A/N: Thank you all for your patience while I worked on this fic. I realize that there have been some very long gaps in updates, and I appreciate all of you who have continued to read this story despite the erratic update schedule. I offer chocolate of your choice in thanks for your continued support.
I want to thank my friend and collaborator, Miriam1, for her invaluable assistance in writing this story. The retelling of our earlier collaboration, "A Ghost in Middle-earth," came from her, as well as a large part of the Judgement, itself. I offer sugar-free chocolate in thanks to her for her help.
Disclaimer: I do not own either Danny Phantom or The Silmarillion.
Chapter 5
Námo braced himself as he left Thîwdín. All three of the Judged conspirators admitted that Thangrod was the instigator of the abomination of Houseless invading the bodies of living Elves.
He already knew from studying the tapestries that this fëa would require special handling.
Still, every soul deserved a chance to prove itself. Námo approached the surly fëa, who sat with his arms crossed. "Thangrod, come with me."
The Doomsman led the rebellious elf to his tapestry room. "Thangrod, these are your tapestries. They tell your story. Now, you have a choice. Either you narrate them, or I will."
Thangrod angrily recrossed his arms, stubbornly refusing to say a word.
Námo sighed. "Very well. I warn you: you may not like the perspective I choose. But even in the face of your insolence, I am merciful. Should you choose to change your mind, I will allow you to take over at any time.
"Let me see, where should we begin?" He scanned the tapestries to find the point he wished to start at. "Ah, here we are. You and Fëanor were in the same archery class, and were the two top students taught by Master Telpëmacar, father of Master Aragon. You also had a great deal in common, not necessarily in a good way," he noted wryly.
Námo continued, ignoring Thangrod's attempt to make an indignant exclamation. "The two of you were best friends, spending most of your free time together, and you were often paired together for sparring lessons. When the two of you spent time with other children, you often assisted Fëanor when he disagreed with others, rather than trying to curb his temper. In fact, both of you rather enjoyed these little fights, and Fëanor had little trouble in enlisting your aid when they occurred."
Thangrod quietly fumed. How dare this Vala reduce his beloved prince's great arguments to the petty spats of children! Still, he refused to say a word that would condemn himself. Just like Fëanor said, this Vala was entirely too full of himself.
"When you reached adulthood, you became Fëanor's second-in-command. And you listened quite attentively when he ranted about his father's second marriage and the births of his younger brothers." The Vala ignored the elf's muttered "Half-brothers" as he turned to examine the next tapestry he wanted to discuss.
As Námo ran his finger along the tapestry, to stop on Fingolfin, Thangrod cut in. "Wait a minute!"
Námo raised an eyebrow. "It was your choice to allow me to choose what and how to narrate. If you feel that I have left out something important, you can take up the narrative yourself at any time."
Thangrod mused to himself, 'Perhaps I should jump in.' He wasn't there yet, but almost.
Námo continued. "Fingolfin and Glorfindel were two of the top students in their class. Master Aragon was top of the class. All three of them were close friends, and spent a great deal of time together."
Thangrod broke in at this point. In a snarky tone, he said, "They were such brats, the lot of them. Fëanor was frequently sent by his father to watch his half-brothers in their classes, around his work in the smithy. Fëanor was resentful of having to give up time he could better spend in learning his craft to watch over his younger brothers, Fingolfin and later Finarfin. Fëanor requested my company, so that he would have someone his own age to speak with."
Námo responded, "It is not unreasonable for the King to ask his oldest son to look in on his younger brothers. After all, when Fëanor himself was a father, he also had his older sons looking out for the welfare of his younger sons."
Thangrod sighed gustily with frustration. "Perhaps. But all of Fëanor's sons were worthy children born from the same mother. Fingolfin and Finarfin were born from Finwë's illegitimate second wife, so they were unworthy of their elder brother's attention. And Glorfindel was an unfortunate sycophant of that illicit child Fingolfin. Further, Glorfindel was so proud, one of a few Noldorin Elves with golden hair."
The elf chuckled as he recalled a favorite incident from that time. "Once, Aragon actually turned the golden child's hair green. Although the dye he used was a blue dye, Glorfindel's hair was of such a shade of blond that the blue dye reacted like it had mixed with yellow dye. I laughed so very hard when it happened. Glorfindel was furious and refused to speak to Aragon until the dye was finally washed out. It took him three days to get it out, the dye was so resilient."
Námo raised an eyebrow at this. He noted that, while Aragon was deeply embarrassed by the prank so many yeni later, Thangrod had greatly appreciated the joke. Thangrod still gloated about it. Aragon, at least, recognized the error of his ways.
The Vala asked, "You are not ashamed of this? You are 75 years older than Glorfindel. Aragon was a foolish child playing a foolish trick. What was your excuse for taking pleasure in the misfortune of a child?"
Thangrod decided he had had enough of this. He became angry at the attempt to humiliate him. "That little brat needed to be taken down a peg or two! He was so proud of that golden hair of his." Thangrod rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Young Master Aragon may have regretted that prank, but I enjoyed seeing Glorfindel deal with losing the right to brag about one of his points of pride for a few days."
Námo interrupted. "You have failed to explain why Glorfindel raises such anger in you."
Thangrod blew out an angry breath and said, "Because the golden brat became the 'second-in-command' to that illegitimate Fingolfin, playing like he was my equal, as I was second-in-command to Fëanor."
The elf took a calming breath, then moved on to another tapestry. "Fëanor involved me in many of his plans for his projects. When rumor reached us of Fingolfin's desire to usurp Fëanor's place, I assisted in the construction of the new smithies, including his secret one. I was one of the few he would seek advice from on anything.
"Fëanor never trusted Morgoth's intentions, of course. But there was some truth in what we later learned he had started to convince us of: the Valar were jealous of us!"
Námo crossed his arms and glared at the elf. "Excuse me?"
Thangrod glared back at him, unintimidated by the Vala's anger. "That's right! You heard me! The Valar are jealous of our creative talents! You believe only you are capable of creating things of beauty. We Elves are also capable of creating things of beauty, things even more beautiful! For example: the Silmarils."
Námo raised an eyebrow, as the arrogant elf had just compared the creation of jewelry to the creation of the stars in the sky or a sunset at the end of a summer's day. He composed his features and relaxed his shoulders slightly, as he studied the angry fëa. "I know that Fëanor believed thus. What were your thoughts?"
"Fëanor was right in everything he said!" Thangrod's eyes lit up in righteous zeal.
The Vala could see that Thangrod was, essentially, little more than a lackey.
Said lackey continued, "One day, Fëanor and Fingolfin had an argument over the disposition of the Valar. Fëanor was already convinced that the Valar were nothing more than greedy bastards." He didn't even pause to see the Doomsman's reaction to the slight. "Fingolfin kept insisting that they had done nothing but show us graciousness and love." Here, the elf sneered. "Fëanor persisted in his arguments, and said that their father and the other emissaries had been misled so as to trick them into accepting the offer to live in Valinor.
"Of course, I supported Fëanor. I expressed my belief that Finwë had been a fool to accept living in Valinor over the wide lands of Middle-earth. Glorfindel became angry with me for saying so, and insisted, 'The only fool here is you! You fail to see the King's wisdom and the great love the Valar have shown us.' I was so angry that I nearly attacked the little brat. But Aragon got between us and insisted we take our anger out on the sparring field.
"King Finwë heard of the argument and became angry that his sons were fighting in public. He took Fëanor and Fingolfin home to deal with them privately over the matter. In the meantime, I faced Glorfindel on the sparring field, and the little brat beat me!" Thangrod took a couple of breaths to calm down before continuing.
"Master Telpëmacar was very proud of Aragon for breaking up our indecorous fight as he did, having us wait until we were in the appropriate venue. He said that his son was a very good teacher. I was also proud of the young one. His ability to keep his temper under control and to direct others in the heat of an argument was quite impressive. He eventually became young Master Aragon. While I was proud of Aragon for his skills, I was still angry at Glorfindel for beating me so soundly in our sparring match."
"Why did Glorfindel's skill offend you so, while Aragon was superior to both of you?" Námo was truly curious, hearing the change of Thangrod's tone when he spoke of both younger elves.
Thangrod became thoughtful. "Aragon was the son of a warrior and sought for nothing more than to be what he was: a warrior and eventually a teacher. Glorfindel was a Lord in his own right, and spent all of his time around that usurping prince, Fingolfin." Here, he crossed his arms and glared at the image on the tapestry. "If you must know, I was jealous of the little golden brat."
'That explains a great deal,' thought the Vala.
With a sigh of exasperation, Námo pointed to a tapestry and said, "I know you heard my words to Fëanor when he was banished from Tirion. While I know that the seeds of discord were sown by Melkor, I have already heard from Fëanor concerning his motivation for drawing his sword against his brother. What I want to hear from you is what possessed you to follow along? Was it blind devotion to your beloved Prince? Or was there a guiding principle that you were following? It makes sense to me that Fëanor's sons followed their father, they and their assorted retinues. You, who were Fëanor's right hand, must have had some motivation. What was it?"
Thangrod looked at the events portrayed, and his eyes lit up with righteous anger. "I fully intended to follow Fëanor anywhere he led! Not only did his words make perfect sense, but I could see that Fingolfin was 'sowing seeds of discord' against him. Fingolfin was trying to turn Finwë against Fëanor, and I was not going to stand for such treachery!"
The Vala raised an eyebrow at this brazen elf using his own words against Morgoth, the Source of all Evil, to describe the righteous young Elven Prince.
"So you joined Fëanor in his banishment. Let us move on to his return to Tirion after the deaths of the Two Trees."
Thangrod sighed. "Morgoth had killed Finwë. Fëanor was absolutely furious, and he intended to pursue him and avenge his father's death. He also had to retrieve the Silmarils that Morgoth had stolen.
"But Glorfindel," the elf sneered as he spoke the name, "had to point out that Fëanor was not supposed to be in Tirion. There had been no word from Manwë that the ban had been lifted, he said. Our new King was calling on us to avenge our old King's murder and that little brat had to delay things by complaining of a technicality! Before Morgoth's attack, we had heard that Manwë had fully intended to lift the ban."
Námo broke in, speaking quietly, yet angrily. "While it is true that Manwë had intended to lift the ban, it was Fëanor's own actions and his vile and unjust Oath that caused the deaths of countless Elves, Men and Dwarves that earned Fëanor permanent banishment from Valinor." The power of the Vala's words made Thangrod tremble and realize that Fëanor was mistaken when he ranted that the only power of the Valar was vainglory showboating.
Thangrod took a moment to compose himself. He recognized that he was damned, and his ultimate fate would be some form of destruction. He steadied himself, and decided he may as well enjoy his last moments of defiance. "Be that as it may, at the time, I felt the only reason Glorfindel had to delay the vengeance of Finwë's murder was because he so obviously supported Fingolfin usurping the throne."
Námo noted Thangrod's change in disposition, and decided to continue with the fëa's history. He skipped over the telling of the Kinslaying and the Burning of the Ships, as he knew that Thangrod would only glory in the 'correctness' of his King's actions. Moving on to the tapestry he wanted to cover next, he muttered, "That an Elf can go so wrong is truly disheartening."
Thangrod raised his eyebrows when he recognized the events being passed over. He'd looked forward to telling his thoughts on those incidents. While it was his right to narrate them, if he chose, he realized that it would not help his case if he did as he wished. He waited to see what the Doomsman would highlight next.
About halfway down the fourth wall, Námo stopped. "Let us proceed to after you landed in Middle-earth." He pointed to a tapestry depicting a vicious running battle.
Thangrod looked up at the indicated tapestry and paled. "It was after Fëanor had us burn the ships of the Teleri, so none could go back and retrieve the cowards that followed Fingolfin. Morgoth's creatures attacked us while we were setting up camp.
"In spite of the fact that we were caught by surprise, we were able to not only fight off the enemy, we won the battle after ten days of fierce fighting. But Fëanor was caught up in battle frenzy, and he pursued the foe, thinking thereby to defeat Morgoth and reclaim the Silmarils. I tried to keep up with him, but he far outstripped all of us in the mad dash. I was furious at being cut off from him. Orcs soon surrounded me as I tried to fight my way to his side. It was only because I was overpowered that I was killed."
Námo gave him a moment to compose himself. It is never easy for a fëa to discuss it's own death. When Thangrod appeared ready to continue, the Vala graced him with a resigned look. "Based on your completely unrepentant mien for the wrongs you have done in your life, I recognize that you are completely faithful to Fëanor, and that you are unrepentant for the evils you have done in the name of your Lord and King. An answer is not necessary, but the forms must be followed. Therefore, I must ask: why, when you died, did you fail to answer my Summons?"
Thangrod snarled, "Fëanor had often spoken, saying the Valar were jealous of us. Why should I have followed the demand of a power-hungry Vala?" His defiance belied his true fear.
Námo gave him a Look. Fëanor was the same way. "I expected no less from you. So what did you do... as a Houseless? Since, obviously, you didn't come here."
Taking pride in what he'd done, Thangrod declared, "I made a survey of the territory Fëanor had said, by rights, should be ours. I spent my time going far and wide over the whole of Middle-earth. But, oddly enough, I lost track of Glorfindel, that golden brat. But I made sure to check in on the sons of my beloved King, Fëanor."
The elf walked over to stand in front of a tapestry depicting Morgoth's deception disguised as a concession concerning peace and the Silmarils. To Námo's surprise, Thangrod sighed over the loss of life of the Elves involved; Fëanor's eldest was the only one to survive. "Maedhros' capture, shortly after Fëanor's death, could have been devastating, but Prince Fingon, son of Fingolfin, was able to rescue him far more easily than I expected.
"That War went very badly overall, though there were occasional victories. The cousins of the sons of Fëanor assisted the rightful heirs in keeping Morgoth penned in for several centuries before he and his forces succeeded in breaking the leaguer. And the appearance of these horrendous fell beasts, that I later learned were called 'Dragons,' were necessary to turn the tide. Between these Dragons and the recruitment of Men, along with his other forces, that day belonged to Morgoth.
"I was saddened by Master Aragon's death, but Maedhros survived, as a result of Aragon's efforts. Prince Maedhros joined with Maglor when he could, and they accomplished many great feats and actions together. I also witnessed the division between Curufin and his rebellious brat, Celebrimbor. Tarmafuin's desire to punish him for turning on his father was admirable. I could tell he wished for an opportunity to do so at the dinner where Celebrimbor refused to uphold the Oath of Fëanor, but it was not to be. It was infuriating that Celebrimbor gave up on his father completely when word of Finarfin's brat Finrod's death reached Nargothrond."
Námo waited patiently for him to calm down. He prompted, "And what else?"
"I was proud when Fëanor's third son, Celegorm, tried to court Lúthien."
Námo raised an eyebrow. "You are proud of an Elf who kidnapped a lady multiple times and parted her from her chosen suitor? And this makes you proud?"
Thangrod scowled. "That insufferable human, Beren, did not deserve to wed the most beautiful Elf in all of Creation! Celegorm was trying to negotiate with Thingol, Lúthien's father, for his daughter's hand in marriage in the proper way when she ran off, in the first place!
"Beren had no right! Celegorm was her legitimate suitor. No child of Fëanor would have sunk so low as to marry a mere human. And I was proud of Celegorm for his machinations to keep Lúthien from marrying so far beneath her."
In a quiet voice, he said, "Thîwdín had every right to be jealous of their great-grandson for having an ancestress like Lúthien."
"And yet," the Vala reminded, "that was her choice. And you do not even see that what Celegorm and Curufin did when they held her captive against her will was wrong."
Thangrod was clearly unhappy at the reminder. "Either way, Lúthien and Beren's son Dior succeeded King Thingol on the throne of Doriath. When Fëanor's sons assaulted Doriath, in an effort to reclaim the Silmaril that Beren stole and Dior held, I found myself forced to watch as three of them perished: Celegorm, Curufin, and Caranthir. That nearly half of Fëanor's sons were now gone was disheartening. And the rest were unable to capture the Silmaril. Dior's daughter Elwing had escaped with it in the turmoil. And Tarmafuin died avenging Curufin's death."
Námo appreciated the fact that Thangrod truly mourned the deaths of Fëanor's sons. But while he seemed capable of compassion, it was for all the wrong reasons. Fëanor's sons led an attack on the peaceful city of Doriath. Their attempted massacre was routed, and Fëanor's sons, the aggressors, were killed. Námo shook his head in sadness at Thangrod's misplaced mercies.
He tuned back in to the mournful elf's recounting of the fates of Fëanor's sons.
"And then, Amrod and Amras, Fëanor's youngest, fell in the assault at Sirion, leaving only the two eldest alive. Of course, the young twins had done very little in the Wars. They simply followed their older brothers. But Elwing fled Sirion, with the Silmaril, yet again! The remaining Elves all thought she drowned when she dove into the Sea, but I saw the sea bird with the brightly glowing star on its breast as it flew away."
Námo spoke emotionlessly. "You saw correctly." He thought, 'Thangrod has no need to know that Elwing's husband Eärendil now carries the Silmaril nightly across the sky.'
Thangrod fingered the tapestry that carried the story of the two remaining sons of Fëanor, as he remembered them. "That Maglor chose to raise Eärendil's sons was intriguing. They were fascinating to watch, their skills phenomenal in many branches of knowledge. Poor Thîwdín was among the Elves that stayed with the Fëanorion after the War. The young one had potential to go far in his chosen occupation. A pity the poor ellon was slain by Orcs while hunting."
Námo was almost proud of him for having such compassion for someone other than either himself, Fëanor, or his sons. He allowed Thangrod to collect himself from mourning for Thîwdín.
"Maedhros and Maglor did a worthy job raising all the war orphans as they did. When that task was complete, they made one last effort to fulfill their father's Oath. They attempted to retrieve the Silmarils from Morgoth. And when the Valar finally deigned to take part in Morgoth's final defeat, they destroyed the spirit of the sons from fulfilling their father's Oath. Maedhros killed himself in despair at losing his right to his father's Silmarils. Maglor was still wandering the shores of Middle-earth, the last I checked on him, singing laments."
Námo felt it only right to correct Thangrod's misconception. "While Maedhros and Maglor repented of the evil they had done and mourned the lives they had destroyed over Fëanor's vile Oath, the purity in the stones themselves rejected the sons of Fëanor for the blood on their hands. Do not concern yourself with their Judgement."
Thangrod nodded in understanding. He recognized that he had worn thin the patience of the Doomsman, and he had better focus back on himself. However, the point he wanted to share was not solely on himself, so he asked, "May I share my thoughts on meeting the adan child spirit?"
Námo told him, "Yes, for that will complete your story."
He took a cleansing breath, and began. "I continued to wander for some time. One day, I decided to check on Curufin's brat. I finally sensed the presence of Glorfindel's fëa in the area, and I wanted to find out if he really was there. And then there was the entrance of the adan child spirit. The green swirl caught my attention, but the child himself was fascinating..."
Thangrod juggled his emotions. That child spirit defeated him, but his very convenient placement in time and space put him closer to achieving his goal of conquering Glorfindel.
He decided to stow potential anger at the adan child in favor of waxing poetic on how close he came, and how the child unwittingly helped him.
"Unlike the Houseless, the child spirit had form, which was intriguing, all by itself. The poor thing was lost, but sought civilization. The closest city was not the closest settlement of Men, but he never specified what he was looking for. It suited my purpose, well... several purposes, to send him to Celebrimbor's stronghold."
Námo raised an eyebrow and let the fëa ramble.
"It amused me to know that I, as a Houseless, could speak to the adan spirit, but it took the half-Elven brat to work out how living Elves could communicate with the child. Since said child spirit could sense my presence, I had to spend time in the farther reaches of Ost-in-Edhil. Still, the rumor mill worked to my favor, and without effort, I learned of Elrond's progress with learning the adan's living language."
Thangrod cut his eyes to a place on the tapestry as he gathered his thoughts. "As I said, I had actually lost track of where the Golden brat spent his time, but his fëa was particularly strong. It was not until he came back from his patrol that I saw Glorfindel. Without sensing organs, I could smell the strength of his body that had been fortified by the fëa that... I see visited here and came back to Middle-earth." He closed his eyes and balled his fists in remembered lust. "I simply could not resist the pull of inhabiting his body."
Námo raised both eyebrows. "Is that so?"
Thangrod shimmied in a snuggle of self-comfort. "Indeed. It was glorious. But that... adan spirit has a power I have never heard of. I had heard of Houseless invading Elves' bodies before. But I have never heard of a force, besides an individual struggling fëa, that could slow, never mind halt and reverse, the process!"
The Doomsman narrowed his eyes at the casual dismissal of the most heinous violation a fëa can commit against another elf. Even so, the elf under Judgement continued his tale obliviously.
"I was weakened and disoriented. I needed to leave the presence of the destructive spirit, so I drifted away to Swanfleet to recuperate."
Námo interrupted the narrative. "Why was Swanfleet your chosen location for convalescence?"
"As the connection of the Greyflood and Glanduin Rivers, the eddies and flows created a marshland with waters still enough to deter the living Elves from visiting, but the confluence created a place of peace for Houseless. Many Houseless drift after their own interests, but marshes like the Swanfleet are perfect refuges for Houseless that need a rest from their pursuits."
Námo nodded and filed this information away, as it would be extremely useful. Perhaps he could send a couple of Maiar to herd the Houseless back to Valinor. Yes... They would wear blue, thus visually separating them out, marking them for their chosen task. He would ask Clockwork if the Time Master's young charge had a spare containment device...
Returning his attention to the recalcitrant fëa, he said, "I thank you. Please proceed with your tale."
Thangrod took a moment to recollect where he stopped. "Where was I?"
"You chose to recover from your disorientation in the Swanfleet. I imagine you would tell about your meeting up with..."
"Ah, yes. I had complained about the strong fëa in the body I desired. Tarmafuin taunted me about giving up too easily. I reminded him that I had at least initiated taking steps to acquire my goal. After some consideration, he decided that the body of Celebrimbor was a worthy prize.
"Thîwdín and Master Aragon were attracted by our conversation about putting desire to deed. Thîwdín described all of the sterling qualities of the Elven Eärendilion."
Thangrod sighed. "Master Aragon was the voice of reason. He reminded us that none of us actually earned the status of Elf Lord that we desired to usurp. He was contented to take the body of a healthy, strong Elf that has all the skills we carefully built for ourselves as we learned from his father, himself, or his son. While we probably should have listened, Tarmafuin, Thîwdín, and I were blinded by our individual agendas and continued on our chosen path. Master Aragon took his own advice."
The fëa shook his head in reflection. "Regardless of why we chose our specific targets, I recognized that we had a strike team. We had our goals, we had the opportunity, and now we had the support we could give each other as we attended to acquiring our individual conquests.
"We came back to the city, and I formed the strategy: first we needed to know the location of the powerful adan spirit before we began. Tarmafuin was too enamored with the fact that his target was so close, in Celebrimbor's home and capital, but Master Aragon chided him for his impatience."
Thangrod ran his finger along the tapestry. "Honestly, it was a perfect plan. But like all plans and strategies, just because it looks good on parchment is no guarantee of its fruition in the execution. It should have worked. But all of us underestimated the adan spirit because of his youth. Even Thîwdín had more than two centuries over the child."
He looked back at the Vala. "Despite his extreme youth, the adan was a worthy adversary. He may have defeated all of us, but he never sought glory nor position. The last words I heard the boy say were: 'And that's for causing such pain to my friends!'
"I suppose such informality can be forgiven for the child. But the fact that Elrond and Glorfindel are Elf Lords was not referenced by the boy – merely the fact that they were his friends. Whatever Judgement I may receive, the boy was valiant and pure of heart."
Námo lowered his eyebrows as he studied the elf. He found it rather ironic that the lives of the three fëar that went after the Elf-Lords all revolved around Aragon and his family, simple soldiers with no interest in unearned status.
Still, he must pronounce Judgement on this wayward fëa. He straightened himself, so he stood taller. "Thangrod, you are a complicated fëa. After the retelling of your story, it is clear that you are completely unrepentant of your heinous crimes and your aiding and abetting of the wanton destruction of the decent Peoples of Valinor and Middle-earth."
The Elf shuddered in wide-eyed horror as he recognized the fact that the Vala just described him the way any Elf would describe an Orc.
"For these crimes, and your unwillingness to recognize your wrong, setting aside your unwillingness to change, you shall remain a ward of these Halls until the End of Days."
Thangrod was shocked into silence. That he was faithful to his Prince, and then King, and vigilant over the welfare of his sons, was ignored. Instead, the fact that he was compared to an Orc took his breath away. He had no response but a wide-eyed stare at the Doomsman.
"It should please you to know that the same punishment has been given to your comrade-in-arms, Fëanor."
Thangrod closed his eyes in sadness. Námo recognized that, somewhere deep down, he had touched the untouchable conscience. It may take centuries, but he may actually grow to learn to repent.
Námo continued. "Despite the evil within you and the actions you have committed, there is an underlying compassion, oddly enough, that you have shown to your younger companions. Your respect for Master Aragon was to be commended."
Thangrod opened his eyes in surprise. Though he was compared to an Orc, the Vala found some redeeming value in him. The beginning of hope, but only the beginning of hope, sparked within him.
"The pity you have shown for Thîwdín and the tremendous respect that you have shown in discussing the 'adan child spirit', as you have called him, shows that there is some part of you that seems like it may be redeemed, some time, and because of this, I shall tell you how your sentence shall be mitigated.
The elf sighed with relief. Perhaps all was not lost.
"Once Thîwdín has learned the lesson that he needs to learn while resting in these Halls, I shall permit an interview between you for an hour or two, so that you may, perchance, learn what he has gained."
Quietly, Thangrod murmured, "I would like that."
Námo nodded. "If this goes as well as I hope, it can be arranged for you to have an interview, or a few, with Master Aragon."
Thangrod said, "Master Aragon is quite an adept teacher. Perhaps, this time, I will attend his lesson."
"It would benefit you greatly, if you did," Námo agreed. "Further... Should Tarmafuin bring Curufin to a state where either of them will be worthy to be reborn, perhaps we can reconsider terms, and a meeting between the three of you may occur."
Thangrod gratefully acknowledged, "Thank you for your mercy in allowing me a chance to reconsider my ways, my Lord." He was quiet for a moment, and he jerked his head as he realized that the Vala just gave the possible option of seeing Curufin again.
"Until the End of Days is a long time, my Lord. Might I have the opportunity to visit with all of the sons of Fëanor?"
Námo stroked his chin. "If they have made significant progress, and seeing you will not damage their growth to becoming better fëar on their way to being cleansed and rested and preparing to be reborn, it is a distinct possibility."
Thangrod winced at the description of himself being a damaging influence and tainted. Still, he needed to know. "Are all of them to be reborn?"
"All of them have the potential." The fëa smiled with the comfort that the precious sons of his beloved Prince were not lost.
Námo smirked. "Ironically, Maedhros, who has been the last to die, will most probably be the first to be reborn."
Thangrod was cheered by this idea. He had already asked so much. Still, he very hesitantly asked, "My Lord, would it be possible for me to visit Fëanor?"
Námo frowned. "I am not yet certain. If I can be certain that Fëanor will not poison the progress you shall make, then perhaps."
The elf was very surprised. "Thank you, my Lord. You are very merciful, and most generous."
The Doomsman smiled. Perhaps it would be possible for this particular fëa to change, to repent, and to grow. If this was possible, then perhaps he may lessen the fëa's sentence. The elf was right: 'Until the End of Days' was a very long time. But that was a thought for another day, and not necessarily to be shared at this time.
Námo said gently, "You are welcome. I will leave you to your contemplation. If you will excuse me, refreshments will be brought to you."
A/N: The Maiar clad in blue are a reference to the Blue Wizards Tolkien mentioned in passing in an essay in The Unfinished Tales on the Istari. According to the essay, it is unknown what purpose the Blue Wizards served or what became of them. However, at least one of them was supposed to serve Mandos. Regardless, no note was made of Tolkien's purpose for them.
Miriam and I decided that both Blue Wizards served Mandos. We also decided to give them a purpose; as such, we now know their task in Middle-earth!
Glossary
adan – (Sindarin) Human.
fëa – (S.) spirit. pl. fëar.
Maiar – angelic spirits of the same race as the Valar, only less powerful. The known examples are Sauron and the Five Wizards, or Istari, of whom only three were named in published works: Saruman, Gandalf, and Radagast.
Melkor – (Quenya) He Who Arises in Might. Morgoth's name prior to his theft of the Silmarils.
Ost-in-Edhil – Celebrimbor's capital. Danny Phantom visited this city in "A Ghost in Middle-earth."
Valar – a powerful Race of beings. They are akin to Maiar in the same way that archangels are akin to angels.
yeni – (S.) Long years. One yen is 144 solar years.