A quick note on Dooms and prophesies. It can be very hard to tell when an elf is making a true prophecy and when they're just making calls based on long experience at the best of times so I'm not saying that what Nelyo said was one. Secondly, is the Doom the same as the Doom of Mandos? No, I'm assuming that since said Doom was named by the elves, there are other less significant dooms that were pronounced, and that's what Nelyo is doing. Shockingly, he is not as powerful as even a Maiar so Doom of Maedhros is more of a referential name than something of equivalent weight.
A Smith in Name
Your thoughts race, countless questions fighting for prominence. Is this truly an elven god imprisoned within the Beyond or is there something more sinister at work? What has he been constructing and why did he destroy it?
"Well? I'm waiting." June's voice interrupts your thoughts imperiously.
Fighting back your irritation at being spoken to in this manner, you cautiously begin to extend your senses to seek for answers. While you do so you answer his demand, if only to buy time to think and investigate.
"I am Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol, and this is Merrill of the Sabrae clan." You present your student.
While your thoughts were racing Merrill has been steadily gathering excitement. Her face is dominated by hope and curiosity, though some caution and fear hides in the corners of her eyes. Still, she bounds forward without hesitation and begins the question barrage you had expected.
"Are you really the Elvhen god of crafts or were you simply named for him? On that note, how old are you? Were you a priest of some kind? Did you grow up before the Veil? Why are you in this prison and..."
You allow Merrill's words to fade from your awareness as you focus on your other senses. With a greater awareness extended, you quickly realise that almost every item of furniture in this room is some kind of magical creation. Of particular note is the forge and the mirror.
"Be silent!" Your thoughts are once more interrupted by June's demands. "I did not give you permission to speak. Grovel in submission and maybe I shall show you mercy."
Merrill flinches back as though she had been physically struck, and you can see June gathering his power. In this realm it is almost a physical presence that can be seen with the naked eye.
Merrill's enthusiasm fades and the fear comes to prominence, yet she gathers her own power to defend herself. As proud as you are of her courage you still step forward in the hope of defusing the situation.
"Release your power, there is no need for it." You attempt to placate the furious creature.
The 'Lord of Crafts' eyes turn to you, fury glimmering within. "This menial dares to speak to me without permission, and worse still demands answers from me and you say there is no need for my power? Be silent anomaly, this is a matter between Vhen."
"I will not be silent while you make threats against those I am sworn to defend." You reply fiercely. "Now I ask you once again, release your power."
Thicker still the presence of June grows, and the wisps of blue your eyes can see become a solid glow.
"Or what?" The being ask tauntingly.
"This is your final warning. Release your power and put all thoughts of offence from your mind, lest you see the might of the sons of Fëanor unleashed." You threaten, your voice quiet and deadly.
For a long moment June meets your gaze fearlessly. Your own power answers your call, rushing to the surface and causing white light to bloom opposing June's blue.
All at once, June's power disappears and the blue light fades. You allow your own to fade shortly after as the 'Lord of Crafts' sneers at you.
"You are fortunate that I still need you alive, anomaly." He hisses, pointing a finger at you warningly. "Keep your thrall in line and I shall graciously ignore her impropriety."
Your pride bristles, and you take great offence on Merrills behalf. If you were along you would have immediately launched a vicious defence of your student, the elf in question lays a hand on your arm, halting your words before they begin.
Though her expression is pinched with hurt and the last vestiges of her fear, she shakes her head at you. She jerks her chin in 'June's' direction, pleading eyes filled with curiosity.
"Merrill will remain silent unless addressed." You concede reluctantly. "If you will consent to answer some questions."
"I grow tired of being dictated to within my own realm." June replies in irritation. "I have graciously extended mercy and understanding to you, and still you dictate to me? It is I who shall be asking the questions here."
Many comments of this being a prison not a realm spring to your tongue, but you wrestle them back.
"Perhaps a compromise." You offer. "Among spirits there is a common exchange of question for question. Surely such an arrangement will satisfy both of us."
June sinks into a high backed chair more akin to a throne than anything else. He rests his chin upon a fist and gazes at you consideringly for a time.
"I deem this acceptable. I will ask the first question." The 'god' proclaims. "How did you come to this world?"
For a moment, your heart stops, how could he know that you come from another world? Why does he want to know how?
You force yourself to show none of your emotions, and reply. "I do not know."
Before you can ask your own question, June leaps to his feet and roars, "Liar!"
"I do not lie." You reply calmly. "That it is not the answer you want is hardly my concern."
"You must be lying, or at least not telling the whole truth!" He replies, more to himself. "Yes, that's it, you don't know but you have an idea, a theory. One that you're not certain of but that is highly probable."
"That is not the question you asked." You remind him. "And I believe it is now my turn to ask a question."
"So that is how you wish to play this?" June says speculatively, then he laughs softly. "Alright, I'll play. Ask your question."
Of all the questions you intended to ask, there is one that is far more pressing than others. "How did you know that I hail from a different world?"
"I saw it." He smirks at you. "What is your best theory as to the manner of your arrival in this world?"
For a moment you hesitate to answer this question, the oath is a personal matter and one you hardly wish to share with a stranger. Silence stretches. June smirks cruelly while you rush to think of a means by which to answer his question without speaking of things you do not wish to share.
"I cannot be certain why I am in this world specifically." You begin, slowly. "I can only speculate on how I left my original. It has to do with what some might call a powerful magic spell, which sets certain actions that must be done and a consequence for failure. In my case the consequence was to depart the circles of Arda."
Behind you Merrill grimaces and places a hand on your back. Her attempt at comforting you is well intentioned but seeing the malicious glee the gesture incites in June, you wish she had done nothing.
"Now I have a question. What is your nature?" You ask as though even considering your oath had not disturbed you.
You are pleased to see that your question has disturbed June somewhat, perhaps he was expecting follow up questions in the same manner he has asked. You however know a number of ways one can peer through space and time to witness events happening or long past, so you do not need to.
"I am an Evanuri." He answers after covering up his displeasure.
"That is not what I asked." You state, annoyed. "I asked for your nature, not your title."
"Yet it is the answer I have given, and it is all the answer you are getting." June snaps at you. "How does one cast this spell, what are the steps involved?"
"One must swear an oath." You reply glibly.
"That is not what I asked!" The elf or elven god, yells.
"Yet it is the answer I have given, and it is all the answer you are getting." You reply smugly.
June leaps from his chair and attempts to loom over you. "Enough! I will not sit here and be mocked by a lower creature! You will teach me how to depart the 'circles of Thedas' now!"
For a few heartbeats you consider having the arrogant creature swear an oath that will benefit you or harm him in some way. It would be just, after a fashion, and perhaps teach him a lesson in humility.
Such thoughts are born not of any true compassion or mercy though, rather of your own pride and irritation, and you fear what might come from abusing the Allfather's authority in such a manner. You are hardly in his good graces as things stand, best not to take any risks.
"Our game has not yet concluded, June 'master of crafts'." You reply, voice mild yet chiding. "You have asked a question and received an answer, yet I have not had a chance to ask one of my own."
"You think I care for your games, anomaly?" June hisses furiously. "I have grown tired of indulging you. Tell me what I wish to know."
"Why should I?" You retort. "I am not your servant, nor am I inclined to obey those who demand obedience without cause. Even if I were, why should I do so when you have already proven how little worth your promises hold. By your own words it is this knowledge alone that stays your hand, why should I surrender it to you?"
The 'Evanuri' looks at you, contempt written large across his face. For a moment you dare hope that your words have swayed him, then he speaks.
"I have tolerated your disrespect far too long, it seems." He says, voice quiet and deadly. "You believe yourself too important to harm, that your knowledge entitles you to make demands of me. You are going to tell me what I want to know, or I will tear this 'Merrill' limb from limb before your very eyes."
"No. You will not." You state.
June sneers. "You doubt me? Perhaps…"
"I was not finished." You interrupt the being. "You will not harm Merrill because I will not allow you to. I have given my word that those who dwell in my lands enjoy my protection, which Merrill does. So, if you dare to attempt to harm her, we will not be speaking any further. Instead, I will set all my might against you until such a time as you no longer draw breath."
"Because of this spell yes?" The target of your wrath asks, somewhere between curious and contemptuous.
You snarl. "Only one so base as yourself would assume that. I need no magical binding to hold me to my word. I would not forsake it for all the wealth of Kazad-Dûm, and all the thrones of all creatures within Arda. It is not within my nature to do so."
"Not within your nature?" June muses quietly to himself. "Oh."
It begins as a quiet chuckle, but slowly it begins to build. All too soon, the prisoner of the tower is howling with laughter, tears running down his cheeks.
"Of course!" He gasps, sinking back into his thronelike chair. "I should have connected the dots, eh 'Knowledge' or is 'Honour' more appropriate? Regardless, I concur, we have a game ongoing. Ask your question."
Irritation flickers within your breast at being mistaken for a spirit again, yet in this case it serves your purpose, so you do not refute his claim. Instead, you return to the topic you were originally interested in.
After a few different phrasings of the question are rejected, you settle on, "How is an Evanuri defined?"
The last of June's laughter fades, and a considering look appears on his face.
"That's none." He begins, only to stop suddenly.
You can tell that his thoughts are racing by the movements of his eyes, so you wait patiently until he speaks once more.
At last, the being makes a decision and says, cautiously, "The Evanuri began as elves powerful in magic, through continuous use and refinement of our arts we eventually became something more."
Merrill gasps, but fortunately June pays her no mind. For your part, you doubt his words. You are willing to concede that this is likely how the Evanuri are defined, but you suspect it is not what they are.
The master of crafts does not leave you long with your thoughts before he asks, "What actions did the elf called Merrill take that lead to you swearing yourself to her protection."
That is information you have not concerns about sharing, though you suspect you know where these questions are leading. "Merrill asked to learn the ways of my people, earning protection as my student. She further came to live in my lands, thus becoming subject to my protection once more. Finally, I account her among my friends, and by that she is entitled to protection thrice over."
"That's it?" June asks in surprise.
"Yes, and that is two questions you owe me." You reply before he has a chance to retract his question.
A snarl breaks through the pleasant mask that June has worn since he began laughing. You meet his gaze unblinkingly, and the mask slides back into place.
"Very well, ask your questions." He says, managing to sound almost unbothered.
"Firstly, I would ask for what given reason did your jailer imprison you?" You prompt.
The elf, or former elf, glares at you raking his nails along the arms of his chair. "You certainly know how to get under my skin, anomaly."
"Are you going to answer the question or not?" You reply.
"Yes. The wolf claimed that," At this point the prisoner begins speaking in Elvhen, 'For too long have you enslaved the People, for that and the murder of Mythal I sentence you to live herein evermore.' And that's two questions answered. What would I need to do to learn the ways of your people?"
Cursing yourself for your carelessness, you reply, "First you would need to be able to leave this place and stay with me a time. I would also need to be convinced that you will not use that knowledge in service of evil. Beyond that, a willingness to learn is all I ask."
The elf sneers at you. "So noble of you. How convenient for you that the only thing needed is also something you can decide on a whim."
"Only one so base as you would assume that." You reply, more sorrowful than furious this time. "By what mechanisms did you 'see' enough to convince you that I was from a different world?"
The elf straightens somewhat, and his smile becomes more smug than condescending. "None know the Evanuris as well as I. Trapped here with nothing but raw mana to work with, I was able to construct a method of viewing distant events…"
"A palantír." Your whispered name interrupts the one called a god by the Dalish.
"What is a Palantír?" June asks immediately.
"A seeing stone." You reply, distracted by your racing thoughts. "It allows the wielder to view distant events, and to speak to others who hold one. My father made them."
The flash of wounded pride, curiosity and anger that crosses June's face is hidden quickly, but not before you notice it.
"I see." The elf manages to state flatly.
Slowly, you begin to piece together why the revelation that another had created something similar wounds the elf's pride. "Ah, your version is not capable of communication."
Both the look he gives you and his next words are laden with venom. "Will you teach me how to escape this prison?"
"I believe I am owed a question now." You chide the former elf. "I told you what a Palantír was after all."
June clenches his jaw and says nothing. You take a moment to think of your question, allowing him to stew in his fury.
"Why are you imprisoned here?" You ask.
"Because the wolf couldn't handle his precious Mythal facing the consequences of her actions." He snarls. "Now answer me! Will you teach me how to escape this prison?"
Merrill swallows nervously, while you consider how best to answer. The behaviour you have seen is certainly unpleasant, and you have more than a few concerns about what he might do if freed, but an eternity of imprisonment is a hefty punishment, especially alone as June is.
"If you prove yourself worthy of being my student, yes." You decide, if he can convince you he is no servant of evil then this imprisonment is far too much.
Frustration flashes across June's face. "Ask your next question!"
"I have felt this place calling to me for some time. What is the nature and origin of this sensation?" You reply quickly, sensing that this conversation is likely drawing to a conclusion.
The self-proclaimed master of crafts' eyes widen in glee. You curse, something about your question has given the elf information he wanted.
"It is a device of my own design, intended to reach out and touch beings from another world and contact them. I had thought it a failure, but it seems that it was simply in need of refinement." June brags, then before you can say anything else. "Are there other creatures that could hear it?"
For a moment, your thoughts race. You could refuse to answer and end the game here, but that would still leave the elf free to experiment and improve his device. The constant irritation of the call aside, there is a risk, however small, that he reaches into the void and the monster within.
The vision shown to you by the fear demon surfaces from your memories, and your imagination fills in the details. Morgoth in truth, returned in all his power, with neither Valar nor Eldar to oppose him.
You cannot allow it; you refuse to allow such a thing to come to pass. "This conversation is over.
June shrugs lightly and smiles. "Alright."
Between one heartbeat and the next an icicle the size of a man strikes towards Merrill. It flashes by you before you can stop it.
Merrill, however, is far better prepared than you. The icicle shatters on an invisible shield, though not the Sandafëo, something native to this world.
"How disappointing, Honour." The attacker taunts, faux disappointed. "For all your speeches about defending the slave, it seems when the chips are down, you're all talk."
Rage and pride stoke the furnace within, until your gaze is occluded entirely by a red mist. This creature dares taunt you so? You will show him the might of the sons of Fëanaro.
June's eyes light up with triumph, and it is as a pail of cold water on your head. He wants you to attack him, why?
Your might gathers, ready to attack or defend, though you have not decided which. Merrill does much the same behind you. The 'master of crafts' smile becomes yet more gleeful and the defences around you stretch and flex to contain the combined strength of the three of you.
That is his game, you realise. He wishes to face you with all your strength to push the defences to their limits and hopefully bring them down where his strength alone would be insufficient.
He wanted you to angry to think, to goad you into fighting because you do not have to face him, you came in and it is within your power to simply leave. Yet he may still get what he wants. Can you truly afford to leave him groping blindly to communicate with something in the Void, where Morgoth dwells?
Fear, rage and pride war for primacy in your heart.
'Bind him' cries your fear, 'Do not let him call the Enemy.'
'Kill him' roars your rage, 'He dares strike at those you protect, no mercy!'
'Do not run' whispers your pride, 'He is nothing before you.'
All around you the defences of the tower bow yet further beneath the strength of the contest between June and Merrill. Time seems to crawl as you see several sharp metal objects fading into existence, while Merrill calls forth yet more invisible energy to shield her.
Beneath your skin your own power strains against your control, eager to join the press and shatter the foe before you. Perhaps if Merrill stood back, you would simply take her place rather than adding yet more strain to the spell work around you.
As emotions war for control, your mind is left free to calculate odds, to weigh possibilities. With the eye of a veteran commander, one thing is eminently clear to you.
"Merrill. We are leaving." You command.
There are too many variables, you are fighting on the enemy's chosen terrain with no clear path to victory. In such situations a tactical retreat is called for, however much that pains you to admit.
"Running so soon Honour?" June taunt. "Surely you do not intend to let the death of your precious slave go unanswered!"
You pull Merrill behind you and hastily created iron shatters on Noldorin chain. Merrill nods in agreement to your words and together you hasten to the door. June throws fire after you, but Merrill meets it with ice, even as the meeting sets your teeth on edge at the strain it places on the tower. Yet, it is enough of a distraction to allow Merrill to leave through the door.
For your part, you pause, wrapping your Fëa about your Hröa and draw yourself up to your full height.
The glory of the kings of the Noldor blazes briefly throughout the room as you deliver a Doom upon June. "Do not seek the darkness. Therein lies nothing that will aid you, for the Lord of Darkness suffers no equals, he has only servants and foes. Should your call succeed, you shall deliver untold suffering unto yourself and all the world."
Whether due to the glory of elder days or the weight of your words, June has no final attack or cutting words for you as you turn on your heel, cloak billowing behind you.
With Merrill's working still in effect, you can walk right past the defences, even to the point of simply walking out the gate, rather than daring the walls once more. As you leave, you see the tension in Merrill's frame. At first, you dismiss it as nerves and fear of her working failing, yet it persists even as you emerge from the gate.
You reach out to clasp her shoulder. Eyes filled with doubt and concern rise to meet yours, and you smile to alleviate her nerves.
"You did well." You praise her. "I apologise that I was too slow to intervene."
Merrill's expression lifts a moment. "Don't worry about it, you were focused on getting information. That was what was really important."
Despite her words, Merrill's expression soon falls once more. For a moment you remain silent, waiting to see what she might say or do.
Finally, you prompt her, "While I would never command you to speak when you did not wish to, I would know what dark thoughts trouble you so."
Merrill starts at your words. For a time, she is silent then she turns back to you and asks a quiet question.
"Was that really June?" Merrill's eyes are wide with fear or sorrow or perhaps anger, you are not sure even she knows which. "That hateful tyrant that dismissed me as a slave?"
"I suppose it could be a spirit that saw the being you call June in the days when they were present." You reply thoughtfully. "Or one that imitated the concept without ever witnessing the original."
Merrill's face lightens somewhat. "I suppose that's possible, but then why the prison? And I know spirits can be powerful, but they don't use magic the way mages do."
"I would not say that June cast spells in a manner typical of mages." You observe, more to take the edge off her worries than out of any hope of ending the conversation.
"What if it's not!" Merrill shouts, her emotions finally resolving into injured pride and fury. "What if the gods were tyrants and monsters that enslaved the People! What if everything I have ever believed, everything I revered was a lie! Are the Dalish praying to demons or worse?!"
You do not reply immediately, well experienced in such matters. Merrill's rage is not directed at you and giving it time to run its course will ensure you do not become a target for it. As you watch, Merrill slowly clams down from fury to mere agitation and worry.
"This is not the first time such has happened." You remind her. "Nor is it the first time you have realised that you are not what you thought you were. How did you solve that problem?"
"What are you…." Merrill begins, only to stop as she realises. "That's different, I could go into the Beyond to retrieve my immortality, I can't do anything about this! I don't even know if I'm right or just worrying about nothing!"
"Then let us examine the worst case scenario." You say calmingly. "You are correct, your 'gods' are in fact monsters in disguise that used your desire for protection to enslave you. What then?"
"I'd have to tell everyone. Oh Dirth… It would be bad. It'd shake the very foundations of Dalish culture." Merrill says, twisting her fingers in anguish.
"Yes, it would be a painful transition." You agree soothingly. "Yet, your people would survive. They would form up once more and face the world with a culture based on something just the smallest part truer."
"It's not that simple. Is it?" Merrill asks, eyes pleading.
"For my part I have never understood the human need to worship things." You explain confidently. "My people do not worship anything. Well maybe ourselves at times, but that is a character flaw not something to be praised."
Merrill laughs hollowly. "Not even the Valar? What about that Eru?"
"We do not worship the Valar." You reply, offended. "We revere them as teachers and respect them as the rulers of Aman and servants of the One, but we do not worship them."
Continuing in a calmer voice, you move on. "As for the One, we do not worship him. We do not see the point, he never demanded it of us, and if he wanted us to, it is within his power to simply make us. Since we feel no need to, we are left to assume that he has no interest in us doing so."
Merrill's expression transforms from distress to thought slowly. "That is, unprecedented, I think. There are people who don't believe in gods, but to believe in a god but have no religious rituals at all."
"My people are not human. We do not think as humans do." You remind her. "My worldview allows for omnipotent omniscient beings that have absolutely no need of me."
"Still, as nice as it is to hear that my people don't need gods to be a fully functional culture, I don't really see how that helps in the short term." Merrill states.
"Remind me to tell you of my own people's troubles with the Valar sometime." You propose. "For now I would like to do what I can to prevent June from contacting anything beyond the circles of this world."
Merrill shudders. "Yes, I'd rather not see the real Morgoth, the Fear demon was bad enough."
You extend your senses and are immediately halted in your attempt. The call was distinct enough to locate but trying to examine it in further detail quickly leads to anything unique about it being buried beneath the chaos of the Beyond, or the dark malice of the tower before you.
Despite repeated attempts and wracking your mind for any scrap of lore on such matters you find nothing that is analogous. The Palantír was the closest comparison, but you know enough of how those work to know that is not how the call functions. Those facilitate the extending of one's mind beyond the normal confines and communicate by bringing two of such minds together to exchange thoughts.
Eventually, for all your determination, you are forced to admit defeat.
"I cannot comprehend anything of this call or what June might be doing. Are you able to determine anything?" You ask Merrill
Merrill shakes her head almost immediately. "I can't even sense this call, so I wouldn't even know where to start looking. Plus the tower seems to be specifically designed to impede magic, there is nothing I can do."
You are not proud of the series of insults and curses upon June that issue from your lips after Merrill finishes her response. Fortunately, it seems Merrill takes your anger in stride, rather than flinching when your voice starts echoing from the nearby fruit mountain.
"Well, we've done all we can, come on let's go home." She says, when you finally break to breathe.
"You are correct. My apologies." You say, now exhausted by your anger.
Merrill grins mischievously at you. "Oh don't thank me yet. You still owe me that story about 'troubles with the Valar'."
You grimace. "Not now. It is not a pleasant tale, and this is neither the time nor the place. Another time."
"Alright." Merrill allows. "But I'll hold you to that."
"Let us return." I am tired, hungry and irritated. If I must spend one more moment in the Beyond I fear I will create one of these 'demons'." You jest.
Merrill's laugh has a decidedly noticeable edge to it, and you cannot help but feel that she is rather eager to get you out of the Beyond.
Weekly Report
One of the crueller demands of leadership is that, no matter how much you want to collapse into bed and sleep upon returning to Edataurëo, you must instead attend to your duties. In your study there is a letter from your 'contacts' who have found employment in the cities of your neighbours.
The letter reads:
Greetings your lordship.
Things're pretty quiet out here. Soldiers drilling, weapons getting bought up by the castle and barns are full like someone's expecting a famine. Weirdly though, there's a shortage of food. I've seen mostly the same stuff that your lot sells. So, I figure that the barns aren't exactly full because there's a local surplus. Gotta wonder what's going on there, yeah?
The lads and I are settling in pretty well. There's plenty of work for the enterprising sort, got me a job running messages for the Wyn's chef which I figure works out well for you. Landuril's working at a flower shop somewhere in Brecilbay, so don't expect much out of him. Big surprise from Sind, turns out he used to be a smith's apprentice. Managed to get an apprenticeship up at Whitecliffe castle.
That's about it, we'll be by for our pay in a few.
Arpo.
You stare at the signature for several long moments. The criminal's name is literally 'thief'. This is Auriel all over again, only more concerning than funny. Incidentally, you are probably going to need to teach the elf how to write in code, or at least speak circumspectly enough to avoid accusations of spying if the letters get intercepted.
You are surprised when, after penning a reply indicating that the way Arpo writes should be reconsidered, one of the rangers knocks on your door. It is not Anneth, and based on his dress and bearing, he has ridden straight here from some duty.
"Sir." The man says, saluting. "News. That gem's been doing it's work, but it's stirred the spiders something fierce. We've been in running battles for three days now, but we're keeping them at bay."
Thoughts racing, you respond calmly and succinctly. "Losses?"
"None yet sir." He replies, sounding relieved. "We're trading ground for safety at the moment. They can't catch us and when they do, well…"
Taking your expression for the demand to get to the point it is, he continues.
"Ever seen a dog bite a giant spider?" He asks rhetorically. "It ain't pretty, but I bet it hurts worse. Dogs drive back the spiders whenever they catch up. I swear they're setting ambushes too, but I can't prove anything."
"Is the situation stable?" You ask.
"For now, it's a stalemate, but it could go either way at this point." The man admits ashamedly.
"Return to your unit." You instruct him, turning your mind to your plans for the coming week.
The door slams open and Ranger storms in dragging a much younger human with him. "Kid, this kid wants ya to storm a haunted castle for him."
Just ten minutes without something going wrong Námo, is that too much to ask?
The Doom of Maedhros
That night, as you finally close your eyes after handling the complete storm of nonsense that has built up in your absence, your dreams are dominated by a dark tower and green light.
This much is not new, but what is new is the voice.
"Is anyone listening?" June asks the void.