After several hours of testing the orb, Nárie and Sauron decided they now had enough information about its current capabilities to start figuring out how to improve it. The orb had proven to be a remarkable creation, capable of capturing and preserving memories with impressive detail. However, they knew there was still much to refine and enhance.
As Nárie stretched, easing the stiffness from his limbs, he turned to Sauron with a determined look. "When do you want to meet to discuss our options?" he asked, his voice filled with anticipation.
Sauron, momentarily lost in thought, took a moment to respond. Testing the orb had been a welcome distraction from the unsettling encounter with Aulë. Now, with the task completed, the weight of his other concerns pressed down on him again. "We can meet the day after tomorrow," he replied thoughtfully. "I want to review our findings and think about the runes that might enhance the orb's capabilities. There are several possibilities to consider."
Nárie nodded, sensing the underlying tension in Sauron's voice. "Alright. I'll bring my notes and we can brainstorm potential improvements." He paused, studying his friend's face. "Mairon, are you sure everything's alright? You seemed a bit... on edge earlier."
Sauron forced a smile, trying to dismiss Nárie's concern. "I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind. We've made good progress, and I'm eager to see what we can achieve next."
As they parted ways for the evening, Nárie couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Mairon's unease than he was letting on. The stiffness in his posture, the guarded look in his eyes, and his reaction to Aulë all suggested deeper troubles. Nárie silently vowed to seek out Olórin. If anyone could help him understand what was troubling Mairon, it would be his older brother.
Nárie decided that the best way to find Olórin would probably be in Ilmarin, the grand palace of Manwë and Varda on the summit of Taniquetil, the highest mountain in Arda. Ilmarin was a place of breathtaking beauty, a testament to the craftsmanship of the Valar and their dedication to harmony and splendor. The palace seemed to be carved from the very essence of light and air, its towering spires and elegant archways shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow.
As Nárie made his way up the winding paths that led to Ilmarin, he couldn't help but marvel at the serenity and majesty of his surroundings. The air was crisp and pure, infused with the song of distant birds and the gentle whisper of the wind through the trees. The path was lined with blooming flowers and ancient trees, their leaves rustling in a symphony of natural music. The higher he climbed, the more the world seemed to fall away, leaving behind only the pure essence of Valinor's beauty.
Ilmarin stood as a beacon of tranquility and wisdom, its walls adorned with intricate carvings and tapestries depicting the history of Arda and the deeds of the Valar. The great halls were filled with the soft glow of ever-burning lamps, their light dancing on the polished marble floors and reflecting off the crystalline windows that offered stunning views of the lands below. It was a place where the very air seemed to hum with the presence of the Valar, their power and grace infusing every corner of the palace.
As Nárie approached the entrance, he was greeted by a Maia of Manwë, who recognized him and guided him through the grand halls to a secluded garden where Olórin often sought solace and inspiration. The garden was a haven of peace, filled with vibrant flowers and gently flowing streams. It was a place where the Maia could connect with the natural world and draw strength from its beauty.
Nárie found Olórin sitting on a stone bench beneath a blossoming tree, his expression troubled as he gazed out over the tranquil waters of a nearby pond. He approached quietly, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere, but Olórin sensed his presence and turned to greet him with a small smile.
"Greetings, Nárie," Olórin said, his voice filled with gentle curiosity despite the worry etched on his face. "What brings you to Ilmarin today?"
Nárie took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "Olórin, I need your help. I'm worried about Mairon. He's been acting strange, and I can't shake the feeling that something is deeply troubling him. Do you have any insight into what might be going on?"
Olórin's expression grew even more serious as he listened to Nárie's concerns. "I have been worried about him too," he admitted quietly. The feelings he had sensed from Mairon yesterday still troubled him—the maelstrom of trepidation and confusion had felt overwhelming. On the one hand, it was better than the slow distancing Mairon had been doing for the past few weeks—stopping their conversations short, claiming he was busy, and often blocking or limiting their bond.
But on the other hand, for several moments when feeling Mairon's panic, Olórin had been convinced that someone was attacking Mairon. The sheer intensity of the fear had been so acute that Olórin had felt an almost irresistible urge to alert the Valar immediately. However, the fact that much of Mairon's panic was mixed with confusion had given him pause.
"At first, I thought he was under attack," Olórin continued, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. "The panic was so intense, it felt like a physical assault. But then, there was this confusion mingled with the fear. It was as if Mairon himself didn't fully understand what was happening to him."
"Did he tell you what caused him to feel like that?" Nárie asked, concern etched into his features. He couldn't think of any reason that would provoke such a reaction in Mairon.
Olórin shook his head, his expression troubled. "No, he was evasive. He didn't want to talk about it. Though..." Olórin trailed off, unsure how much to reveal. He had been reluctant to confide in even Manwë, though he usually trusted him with everything. However, this was different—he didn't want to betray Mairon's secrets. Mairon had trusted him by telling him about being approached by Melkor and being offered a different path from Eru's vision. Olórin knew that warning Manwë about Melkor's true intentions was crucial, but he couldn't do it at the expense of revealing Mairon's involvement, which might get his brother punished. This dilemma had weighed heavily on him, and it was one of the reasons he had been sitting in the garden for more than a day, trying to decide how to reveal one without the other.
Nárie noticed Olórin's hesitation. "Olórin, you can trust me. If there's something more going on, I need to know. For Mairon's sake."
Olórin sighed, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. "Mairon confided in me that Melkor approached him, offering a different path from Eru's vision. He's been struggling with it ever since. I didn't want to betray his trust by revealing this to anyone, even Manwë, but now I'm not sure what to do. Melkor's influence is dangerous, and I fear for Mairon's safety and well-being."
Nárie's eyes widened in shock. "I thought he was supposed to be reformed?!"
Olórin nodded, his expression grim. "That was the reason given for why Melkor was allowed to roam Valinor freely. The Valar believed he had changed, but if he's approaching Mairon with offers that go against Eru's vision, it's clear that he's not as reformed as we were led to believe."
Nárie ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. "I've seen Melkor around Valinor for several months now, including in Aulë's Halls, but he never approached me. If he's actually not reformed... do you think he will harm Mairon if he finds out he told on him?"
Olórin's eyes widened with alarm. He hadn't even considered that possibility. "That makes it even more crucial to keep Mairon's involvement out of any retelling. Melkor's wrath could be devastating, and Mairon would be at great risk."
Nárie paced back and forth, trying to think of a solution. "We need to find a way to warn Manwë without implicating Mairon. But how do we do that without raising suspicion?"
Olórin thought for a moment, then spoke with determination. "We could focus on Melkor's actions and behavior. Perhaps we could bring up concerns about his influence on the Maiar in general, suggesting that his presence might not be as harmless as it seems. If we emphasize the need for vigilance, it might prompt Manwë to take action."
Nárie nodded, seeing the merit in Olórin's plan. "Yes, that could work. We need to be careful with our words, but it's a way to raise awareness without putting Mairon in danger. In the meantime, we should keep a close watch on Mairon and ensure he knows he can trust us."
Olórin agreed. "I'll speak with Manwë and express my concerns about Melkor's behavior. I'll frame it in a way that highlights the potential threat without revealing Mairon's involvement."
Nárie placed a reassuring hand on Olórin's shoulder. "We'll get through this together. Mairon is lucky to have a brother like you looking out for him. And as his friend, I'll do everything in my power to help him too."
Olórin smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Nárie. Your support means a lot. With our combined efforts, we'll protect Mairon and ensure he doesn't fall prey to Melkor's schemes."
As they sat in the tranquil garden, the two Maiar solidified their plan. They would alert Manwë to the potential danger posed by Melkor while safeguarding Mairon's secrets. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but with their unwavering determination, they hoped to steer Mairon away from the shadows and toward a brighter future.
After receiving Olórin's warning that Melkor might be unduly trying to influence some of the Maiar into joining his side and that he might be trying to restart his campaign against Eru's vision, Manwë called a meeting with the other Valar at Máhanaxar, the "Ring of Doom." The atmosphere was tense as the Valar gathered, each sensing the gravity of the situation. The majestic circle of thrones, adorned with the ancient power of the Valar, felt even more somber under the weight of the impending discussion.
As soon as the warning was relayed, Tulkas, the Vala known for his strength and unwavering resolve, rose from his seat. His fists were clenched, and his face bore a fierce expression. "I told you he couldn't be trusted!" he declared, his voice echoing through the sacred halls. "Melkor's nature is unchangeable. He thrives on discord and deception. We should have never allowed him such freedom."
Varda, the Lady of the Stars, who sat beside Manwë, nodded thoughtfully. Her silver hair shimmered like moonlight, and her eyes, deep as the night sky, held a wisdom as vast as the cosmos. "Tulkas, your concerns are valid," she said, her voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of worry. "However, we must consider our actions carefully. If Melkor is indeed attempting to sway the Maia, we need evidence and a plan to counteract his influence without causing further unrest."
Aulë, whose gaze was fixed on the floor, sighed deeply. "I have seen him wander my halls," he admitted. "He observes, speaks little, but his presence alone is unsettling. Yet, I had hoped that his time in Mandos had wrought some change in him." He looked up, meeting Manwë's eyes. "But if Olórin's warning holds truth, we cannot ignore it."
Aulë furrowed his brow, his thoughts racing as something occurred to him. He recalled the peculiar demeanor of Mairon earlier that day. The usually composed Maia had seemed unusually tense, distracted by thoughts he seemed unwilling to share. His responses to Aulë's inquiries had been curt, almost evasive, and there was a palpable tension in the air, as if he were holding back something of great significance.
Mairon had stood perfectly still, as if by not moving he could avoid drawing any further attention to himself. His posture was tense, every muscle taut, exuding a sense of heightened alertness. The way he watched Aulë warily, eyes flickering with an almost feral intensity, was unsettling. Mairon seemed to be searching for a sign of... something, though Aulë couldn't discern what. It was as if Mairon expected a hidden threat to emerge at any moment.
There was something distinctly animalistic in his behavior, reminiscent of a cat—crouched, poised on the brink of flight. The comparison was apt, for Mairon's every movement suggested a readiness to spring into action, to bolt if necessary. The slight aura of uneasiness emanating from him was palpable, adding to the impression that his primary instinct was to find the nearest exit and escape.
"Did Olórin mention any of the Maia Melkor has approached by name?" Aulë asked, his voice tinged with worry.
"No," Manwë replied solemnly, his gaze fixed on Aulë. "But I sense that Olórin knows at least one of them and is trying to shield them."
Aulë's concern deepened. He knew Olórin well enough to trust his instincts, and if Olórin was protecting someone, it meant the situation was grave. The pieces began to fit together in Aulë's mind, creating a picture that was troubling. Mairon's unusual behavior, his tension, and evasiveness—all seemed to point to one conclusion: Melkor had approached him.
Aulë felt a surge of protective anger. Mairon was one of his brightest and most talented Maia, and the thought of Melkor corrupting him filled Aulë with a fierce resolve. He had to find a way to help Mairon without driving him further into secrecy and fear.
"Mairon has been acting strangely," Aulë admitted, his voice heavy with concern. "He's been tense and evasive, as if he's hiding something. I fear Melkor may have already spoken to him."
At Aulë's words, Manwë frowned slightly, his eyes flashing with sadness. He had truly hoped Melkor would change. He had often visited Melkor during his imprisonment in Mandos and tried talking him out of the path he had chosen. At first, Melkor had only screamed at him and cursed Eru. Later, he had started speaking of regrets, but something about his demeanor had always seemed off. Manwë had wanted to believe in his brother's repentance, despite the nagging doubts that lingered in his heart.
And so, at the end of his punishment, Melkor was given one last chance—maybe foolishly, but still, only Eru knew everyone's final fates, and everyone deserved a chance at redemption.
It was Námo who interrupted Manwë's thoughts. "We should at least give Melkor a chance to defend himself," he said, his face stoic and betraying not a hint of his inner thoughts.
Námo stood tall, his presence both serene and imposing. His long, dark hair flowed like a river of shadow down his back, contrasting starkly with his pale, almost luminescent skin. His eyes were a piercing gray, deep and inscrutable, capable of seeing into the very essence of those he judged. Draped in robes of midnight blue, adorned with silver threads that glinted like stars, Námo embodied the quiet, unyielding authority of his station. There was an air of melancholy about him, a reflection of the burdens he bore as the keeper of souls and memories.
This measured response was characteristic of him. His ability to remain calm and gather all necessary information before pronouncing any judgment was well-known among the Valar.
Manwë nodded slowly, though the weight of disappointment still pressed heavily upon him. "You are right, Námo," he conceded. "We cannot condemn him without allowing him to speak for himself. Despite our doubts, we must hold true to our principles of fairness and justice."
Aulë, still troubled by the thought of Melkor's potential influence over Mairon, spoke up. "But what of the Maia he has already approached? We must protect them from any further manipulation."
"Indeed," Nienna agreed. "We must ensure their safety and well-being. This situation requires both caution and wisdom. We must approach it delicately to avoid pushing them further into Melkor's grasp."
Námo's expression softened slightly, a rare sight that hinted at the depth of his concern. "We must also consider that Melkor's manipulations could be subtle, playing on the doubts and insecurities of those he targets. We need to provide support and guidance to our Maia, showing them the strength of our love and trust."
"Agreed," Manwë said, a note of determination creeping into his voice. "We will convene with Melkor and give him the opportunity to speak. But we will also reach out to our Maia, offering them reassurance and understanding. They must know that they can come to us with their fears and doubts."
It was decided that Tulkas would be the one to find Melkor and bring him back here. His strength and fearlessness made him the natural choice for such a task.
"I will not let him escape," Tulkas vowed, his fists clenching at his sides. "If he is up to his old schemes, I will see to it that he answers for them."
As Tulkas departed on his mission, the remaining Valar exchanged glances of unease. The memory of the last war with Melkor was still fresh in their minds, the scars it had left on the world and their hearts not yet fully healed. None of them wanted another conflict, but neither could they afford to ignore the threat or lose their Maia to Melkor's insidious influence.
Moments later, Tulkas reappeared with Melkor in tow. Melkor sneered slightly, brushing off the arm Tulkas had grabbed. "There was quite no need for you to force me here," he said with a mocking smile. "It's like you don't have any room up there in your head but for brute strength."
Tulkas's eyes narrowed, but he held his temper, his muscles tense and ready for any sudden moves. "Just sit down, Melkor," he said in a low, controlled voice.
Melkor chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, Tulkas, always so predictable." He turned his gaze to the assembled Valar, his expression shifting to one of feigned innocence. "What is this about, Manwë? I thought I was free to roam Valinor as I pleased."
Manwë's eyes, usually filled with serene wisdom, were now hard and cold as ice. "Melkor, we have heard disturbing reports that you may be trying to influence the Maiar and rekindle your old ambitions. We are here to determine the truth of these allegations."
Melkor's face twisted into a mask of offended dignity. "Influence the Maiar? Rekindle old ambitions? I have done nothing of the sort! I have kept to myself, following the rules set upon my release. I seek only to be left in peace, to reflect on my past mistakes."
Aulë stepped forward, his eyes boring into Melkor's. "Your words are hard to believe, Melkor. There are signs, troubling signs, that suggest you are not as repentant as you claim to be. One of my Maiar has been acting strangely, and I fear you have something to do with it."
Melkor's sneer returned. "Oh, Aulë, always so quick to judge. Perhaps your Maia's troubles stem from your own failings. Have you considered that possibility?"
Before Aulë could respond, Námo's calm voice cut through the tension. "Melkor, your behavior has always been a source of concern. We will not act hastily, but we require your cooperation. If you have truly changed, you will have nothing to hide."
Melkor's eyes flicked to Námo, then back to Manwë. "Fine," he said with a dramatic sigh. "Ask your questions, make your accusations. I have nothing to fear from the truth."
Manwë's voice was steady, but there was an edge of steel to it. "Melkor, it is not just about your words. It is about your actions and their impact on those around you. We have heard reports that you may be attempting to sway some of the Maiar to your side. Can you deny this?"
Melkor's expression was one of righteous indignation. "I have spoken to many in Valinor, as is my right. If some have found my words compelling, that is not a crime. I merely share my thoughts and regrets, as any would."
Manwë exchanged a look with Námo, then addressed Melkor again. "We will speak to you, Melkor, and also to those who have interacted with you. If there is any hint of deceit or manipulation, you will face the consequences."
As the questioning began, the tension in the air was palpable. Melkor's answers were smooth, practiced, each one a carefully crafted piece of his defense. But beneath the surface, the Valar could sense the undercurrents of his true nature, the simmering darkness that had never fully left him. His words dripped with feigned contrition and calculated humility, yet the underlying arrogance and disdain were unmistakable to those who knew him well.
Manwë's eyes remained fixed on his brother, searching for any flicker of sincerity in his demeanor. Varda stood by his side, her gaze cold and unyielding, her skepticism unhidden. Nienna listened intently, her compassion tempered by a wary vigilance. The others, too, watched with bated breath, their hopes for genuine repentance dwindling with each evasive answer Melkor gave.
After several hours of relentless questioning, Melkor was finally released. He maintained a facade of composed dignity as he left the Ring of Doom, but inside, his anger festered. The moment he returned to his house in Valinor, his controlled exterior crumbled, and his true feelings erupted.
"How dare they!" Melkor seethed, his voice a low growl as he paced the confines of his grand abode. "How dare those slaves of Eru interfere with my plans and tell me what to do!"
His eyes burned with a malevolent fire as he considered his next move. The Valar's scrutiny would undoubtedly increase, making it more difficult to sway any of the Maiar to his side. Yet, he relished the challenge, seeing it as an opportunity to prove his superiority once again.
In the solitude of his thoughts, Melkor's mind turned to Mairon. He had sensed potential in the young Maia, a blend of ambition and skill that could be molded to his advantage. And so, Melkor had begun to weave his insidious plan, meticulously crafted to draw Mairon into his web of influence.
It all started innocently enough, with casual conversations about the art of forging. Melkor would often wander into the workshops where Mairon toiled, offering subtle suggestions to improve his techniques. "Have you considered tempering the metal at a slightly higher temperature? It would yield a much stronger blade," he would say, his tone one of genuine interest and camaraderie.
Mairon, eager to learn and perfect his craft, listened attentively. He was impressed by Melkor's vast knowledge and his willingness to share it. These interactions quickly became a regular occurrence, with Melkor offering advice on various projects. The young Maia began to look forward to these visits, finding in Melkor a mentor who understood his aspirations.
Gradually, the conversations shifted. Melkor started to hint at grander visions, speaking of the potential to create wonders that would surpass anything seen in Valinor. "Imagine the marvels we could bring to Middle-earth," he would muse, his eyes gleaming with fervor. "But, of course, the other Valar would never agree to it," he would add, a note of feigned disappointment in his voice.
Mairon listened, his curiosity piqued. The idea of crafting something truly magnificent, something that would leave a lasting mark on the world, was incredibly alluring. Yet, he couldn't shake a nagging doubt. The Valar had always been his guides and mentors, their wisdom shaping his path. Could they truly be so blind to such potential?
The last time they met, Melkor took a bolder step. "What if we worked together, Mairon?" he proposed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We could bring our vision to Middle-earth, improve it in ways that Eru failed to foresee. Think of the possibilities—the beauty and order we could create."
Mairon hesitated, his heart and mind at war. The idea was intoxicating, but the implications were dangerous. Aligning with Melkor meant defying the Valar and Eru's vision, a path fraught with peril. Yet, the seed of doubt had been planted, and Melkor's words resonated deeply within him.
As Melkor left Mairon to ponder his proposal, he felt a sense of triumph. He had sown the seeds of ambition and doubt, and he knew that Mairon was at a crossroads. With careful nurturing, he could turn the young Maia to his side, gaining a powerful ally in his quest to reshape the world according to his vision.
But for the past few days, ever since that conversation, Mairon hadn't come to their usual meeting place. Melkor's frustration simmered beneath the surface. He had been so close to securing Mairon's allegiance, yet now the young Maia was avoiding him.
And now this interrogation by the Valar? Someone must have blabbed to them about what he had been up to, and there were very few Maiar to whom Melkor had even hinted at his true intentions—Mairon being one of them. The thought that one of his own might have betrayed him gnawed at his pride.
To make matters worse, Aulë had mentioned strange behavior from one of his Maiar as a cause for concern. It hadn't sounded like that Maia was the one who had told the Valar about him, but the coincidence was troubling.
Melkor's mind raced as he considered his next move. He couldn't afford to let his plans unravel. He needed to secure Mairon's loyalty and ensure that the Valar didn't become aware of his schemes. Their scrutiny would only intensify from here on out, and he had to be more cunning than ever.
He would have to tread carefully, weaving his influence with even greater subtlety. Mairon was crucial to his vision of a new world order. The young Maia's skills and intellect were unparalleled, and with the right guidance, he could be turned into a formidable ally. But how to draw him back in?
Since his release from Mandos, Melkor had devised a cunning enchantment that allowed him to evade detection for short periods of time, though using it was draining. This spell enabled him to slip away from his quarters unnoticed, giving the illusion that he remained confined within his rooms. He had used this enchantment to clandestinely meet with the Maiar who were closest to swaying to his side, carefully nurturing their doubts and ambitions.
Now, with the Valar likely still engrossed in their meeting, Melkor seized the opportunity to speak with Mairon. He needed to uncover how deeply Mairon had been involved in the recent exposure of his schemes and to solidify his loyalty before Aulë could intervene and sway Mairon's allegiance back to the Valar.
Activating his enchantment, Melkor felt a familiar, comforting cloak of invisibility settle over him. Concentrating, he focused on the unique energy signature of Mairon. The young Maia's presence flickered faintly in his mind, a blend of turmoil and latent power.
Using his powers to sense Mairon's exact location, Melkor reached out across the vast expanse of Valinor. Mairon was in a secluded garden, a place he often retreated to when he needed solitude. Melkor's lips curled into a satisfied smile. The garden was perfect for a private conversation, far from the watchful eyes of the other Valar.
With a thought, Melkor activated his teleportation ability. The world around him dissolved into a swirl of darkness and light, reforming almost instantly into the serene surroundings of the garden.