Eönwë had stayed at the Máhanaxar after Námo took Mairon away for a private talk. The large, open amphitheater, surrounded by majestic columns and lush greenery, was bathed in the soft glow of the two Trees. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of the ancient stone. As the Valar sent to retrieve Melkor returned empty-handed, Eönwë's heart sank. He could feel the cool breeze against his skin and hear the distant rustle of leaves as they discussed not being able to find him where his aura indicated he was.
"This is troubling," Manwë said, his voice steady but laced with unease. The words seemed to hang in the air, carried by the gentle wind that rustled through the trees. The sound of waves in the distance provided a serene backdrop, starkly contrasting with the tension of the moment. Manwë's blue eyes reflected the fading light, his expression mirroring the gravity of the situation. "If Melkor can cloak his movements from us, it means he can orchestrate his plans without detection. We need to anticipate his next move."
"It's now even more important to find the Maiar Melkor has been talking to," Varda said with a frown. Her deep concern was evident. "Aulë, could you later ask Mairon if Melkor mentioned any others he might've talked to?" Varda didn't know why Námo had felt the need to take Mairon away for a private conversation, but she was unwilling to intrude.
Aulë nodded gravely. "I will," he replied, his voice heavy with worry. "Mairon may hold crucial information that could help us trace Melkor's influence. It's imperative we act swiftly."
Aulë truly hoped that Melkor hadn't talked to or tried to sway any of his other Maiar. It was bad enough that Melkor had been talking to Mairon for a while, and Aulë had only recently noticed that something was wrong. How many other signs had he missed?
"Speaking of Mairon," Irmo started, his tone laced with concern, "Melkor has no doubt guessed why exactly we tried to capture him and who it was that told us about his actions. If Melkor finds a way in or still holds influence over some of our Maiar, Mairon is in great danger."
"Mairon wasn't the one Melkor threatened by name," Nienna said softly. That soft utterance caused the other Valar to stiffen even more, as they remembered the horrifying revelation that Melkor would go so far as to destroy an Ainu's fëa completely.
"And I think if Melkor seeks to make Mairon pay for betraying him, he would especially target those Mairon cares about, not only Mairon himself," she continued, her voice tinged with sorrow and concern.
Manwë's expression hardened, his eyes reflecting the depth of his resolve. The reminder that Melkor—his own little brother—had directly threatened Olórin, one of his cherished Maiar, stoked a fierce protective fire within him. The familial betrayal cut deep, adding layers of anger and determination to his resolve. "We must protect them. Melkor's cruelty knows no bounds, and he will not hesitate to exploit any weakness he perceives," he said, his voice a low, steely promise.
Manwë felt the sting of Melkor's actions more acutely, knowing that this wasn't just an abstract threat. This was personal. The image of Olórin, whom he had mentored and loved, being targeted by Melkor sent a surge of both paternal and fraternal rage through him.
The betrayal was a bitter reminder of the depths to which Melkor had fallen. Manwë's heart ached with the sorrow of a brother lost to darkness, but it also steeled him with the fierce determination to protect his people—his family—from that same darkness. His voice, when he spoke again, was imbued with a blend of sorrow and unyielding resolve. "We will not let Melkor's malice tear us apart. We stand united, stronger than his hatred."
"Eönwë!" Manwë called to his herald, who was standing nearby, his wings rustling slightly as he stepped forward. "Please go warn Olórin, Nárie, and Mairon to be careful and to stick near one of us for the foreseeable future."
Eönwë nodded, his eyes serious. "I will make sure they understand the gravity of the situation and ensure they are protected."
As Eönwë turned to leave, Varda added, "Remind them that they are not alone in this. We are all here to support and protect each other."
Eönwë's wings unfurled gracefully as he prepared to carry out Manwë's command. The weight of the task ahead was heavy, but his determination to safeguard those under threat was unwavering. The Valar watched him go, knowing that this was only the beginning of their efforts to thwart Melkor's insidious plans.
Námo's contemplation was interrupted when he again felt the mental touch of his twin, Irmo, checking to see if he was still busy. He sat in his dimly lit chamber, the flickering light of a single candle casting shadows on the walls adorned with intricate tapestries. The faint scent of incense lingered in the air, a calming presence in the otherwise still room. He had felt that query several times during his conversation with Mairon but had chosen to focus on the Maia.
'Melkor is gone, and we can't find his presence anywhere in Valinor,' Irmo replied, his worry clear.
'How did he escape?' Námo asked, frustration and concern in his voice.
'We don't know. His presence seemed to be in his room the whole time, but when Tulkas, Oromë, and Ulmo got there, he wasn't there,' Irmo explained. 'It's as if he vanished without a trace. We must find him quickly before he can cause more harm.'
'At least now it will be harder for him to influence events and beings here,' Námo noted, trying to find a positive side. 'But Melkor is cunning; he will still find a way. We need to find those he has started to influence—they could be his way in.'
Irmo agreed.
'Olorin!'
'Olorin!' Olórin glanced up from his book, startled to hear the worry in his usually unflappable friend's voice. He was sitting in a cozy corner of his study, surrounded by shelves filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. The warm glow of a nearby lamp illuminated the pages of the book in his hands. The scent of old parchment and leather bindings filled the air, a familiar and comforting presence. 'Eönwë? What's wrong?' Olórin asked, his brow furrowing in concern.
'We need to meet. Can you contact Mairon while I call Nárie?'
Olorin's confusion deepened. 'Why do you need to talk to all of us? Did something happen?'
'I will explain later. Get Mairon and let's meet at the usual spot,' Eönwë ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Olorin finally agreed, setting aside his book and rising quickly. He reached out through the bond to Mairon. 'We need to meet. Eönwë says it's urgent.'
Mairon's response came after a brief pause, tinged with apprehension. 'Alright. I'll be there.'
The Hidden Glade of Yavanna stood as a sanctuary of unparalleled beauty, nestled deep within the heart of Valinor. Towering ancient trees with silver bark and golden leaves formed a protective canopy overhead, their branches intertwined like the fingers of a loving guardian. The air hummed with the gentle symphony of nature: birdsong harmonizing with the rustling leaves, and a crystal-clear stream meandering through the glade. The ground beneath was a carpet of vibrant flowers, each blossom exuding a fragrant perfume. The soft, ethereal light filtered through the leaves, casting a serene and timeless aura over the entire glade. The gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of nectar, mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest floor.
"Soo... what is this about?" Nárie's voice cut through the tranquility, tinged with both curiosity and concern as he regarded Eönwë, who had been pacing before them for several tense minutes. Nárie exchanged a worried glance with Olórin, both sensing the gravity of the situation.
It was Mairon who broke the heavy silence, his voice tinged with resignation. "Melkor escaped, didn't he?"
"Yes," Eönwë confirmed with a solemn nod. "Melkor somehow managed to evade the Valar's vigilant gaze and is now nowhere to be found in Valinor."
"Wait, what do you mean Melkor escaped? Escaped from what?" Nárie's confusion was palpable, his brow furrowing deeply. "Is this because of our warning? But then how did Mairon know about it first?"
"Your warning?" Eönwë's brow furrowed in turn, puzzled by the unfolding situation.
"I informed Manwë that Melkor had been approaching some of the Maiar and needed closer monitoring," Olórin explained carefully.
Mairon noticed Olórin's cautious tone, a realization dawning on him. "You didn't tell Manwë my name?"
"Of course not," Olórin replied firmly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "You're my brother. What you share with me in confidence, I hold sacred. Though... I did confide in Nárie. I'm sorry, Mairon, but we were both deeply concerned about you."
"It's... fine," Mairon responded, his thoughts swirling with conflicting emotions. When he heard that the Valar had been warned about Melkor and that the likeliest suspect was his brother, Mairon had immediately assumed that Olórin's loyalty to the Valar had overriden the loyalty he had to him. He had thought that Olórin had told them about his conversations with Melkor and that he had been tempted. Discovering otherwise, and feeling reaffirmed in Olórin's unwavering love and loyalty, evoked a complex mixture of relief and guilt within him.
In the previous timeline, he had forsaken Olórin to join Melkor's dark cause without hesitation. Even now, navigating between his allegiance to the Valar and his own ambitions felt like a betrayal, albeit a concealed one. The weight of his past actions pressed heavily on him. He couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't deserve Olórin's trust, let alone his love.
Eönwë's stern gaze bore into Olórin, his disappointment palpable yet tempered with a trace of sympathy. "How could you hide that?" he repeated, his voice edged with concern. "The Valar needed to know that Melkor was targeting Mairon specifically. It could have ended disastrously, and we were perilously close..." Eönwë's voice trailed off, the weight of their near-miss weighing heavily on his shoulders.
Olórin's eyes widened in realization, the gravity of their situation dawning on him like a sudden storm. He rose abruptly, his anxiety spilling forth in a rush of words. "What do you mean it almost ended badly?!" His voice cracked with urgency, his hands trembling with unspoken fears.
Eönwë looked at Mairon, silently asking if he wanted to answer the question or if Eönwë should.
"Melkor approached me again last night," Sauron began quietly, staring at the ground, unable to meet the concerned looks around him. To have such undeniable proof that others cared about him, loved him, and yet be unable to make the simplest decision about staying in Valinor made him feel awful. "He tried to tempt me into joining his side, but I realized that he was unlikely to achieve what he was promising. When that didn't work, he threatened to destroy those I care about if I didn't."
For the second time that day, Sauron found himself enveloped in a hug—Olórin was clinging to him almost desperately, silent tears streaming down his face. He stiffened, feeling Olórin's tears soak through his tunic. Sauron felt the warmth of Olórin's embrace, the soft fabric of his robes against his skin. The sound of Olórin's quiet sobs and the rhythmic beat of his heart provided a poignant counterpoint to the serene surroundings. The scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers filled the air, a stark contrast to the raw emotion of the moment.
Even as Mairon, he had never been adept at handling emotions—though as Sauron, he had mastered the art of manipulating others through their feelings. To have so recently emerged from his own storm of emotions and semi-breakdown in front of Námo, and now seeing someone he loved weeping over him, completely threw Sauron off balance. 'Help!' he sent almost desperately, his eyes darting towards Eönwë and Nárie.
Awkwardly, Sauron attempted to pat Olórin on the back, his movements stiff and unsure, hoping to provide some semblance of comfort. He had no real frame of reference for how to console others beyond Námo's recent intervention, an experience still too raw and fresh for him to fully process.
Nárie stepped forward, gently placing a hand on Olórin's shoulder. "Olórin, he's here with us now," he said soothingly. "We're all here, and we'll face whatever comes together."
"But he almost wasn't. It would have been my fault if Melkor had managed to blackmail him," Olórin insisted, his grip around Mairon tightening.
"That would still be Melk—" Eönwë started to say, but a quiet, unwitting comment from Mairon froze him solid. "Maybe I should have let him..."
The others fell into a stunned silence. Nárie and Olórin exchanged horrified glances, while Eönwë's expression hardened with a mix of disbelief and concern.
Olórin released his tight hug on Mairon, only to grab his shoulders and desperately search his face for answers. "Why would you even say that?!" Olórin exclaimed, completely horrified.
Too late, Sauron realized he had let slip the thought that had been at the back of his mind since finding out about Melkor's escape. The weight of his realization hit him like a physical blow, his breath catching in his throat. He could feel the dampness of the ground beneath him and the rough texture of the bark against his back as he leaned against a tree for support. The cool air stung his skin, and the distant sound of flowing water seemed to mock his turmoil. He clenched his fists, the sensation of his nails digging into his palms grounding him in the present moment.
He had gone to the Valar hoping they would be able to immediately stop the Dark Lord's threats. But now, he thought, I could've protected them better at Melkor's side...
Sauron already knew how Melkor operated. He could have found ways to secretly thwart the plans that would result in harm to those he cared about. But looking at the horrified glances around him, he instinctively opened his mouth to lie, to evade, to say he misspoke and didn't mean it. "How can you figure out who you want to be if you keep hiding yourself, little Maia?" The memory of Námo's words stopped him.
Less than an hour ago, he had promised the Vala he would try to be more honest with those around him. Was he about to break that promise so soon? Sauron looked away from Olórin's panicked and teary eyes, desperately trying to decide what to do.
Námo had broken something within him—a carefully constructed barrier, erected during his time with Melkor, that shielded him from his own emotions. Since his awakening in the past, the barrier had begun to crack, yet Sauron clung to it stubbornly, fearing the exposure of vulnerabilities that could be wielded against him. Logic and emotional detachment had been his safeguards, his armor against the world.
Yet, as he sat there, the weight of Námo's words bore down upon him. The comfort and understanding they offered were like a beacon, illuminating a path he had long avoided. Sauron found himself at a precipice, torn between the familiar shadows of deception and the alluring light of truth.
Taking a deep breath, Mairon finally spoke, his voice trembling slightly. "It's my fault you're even in danger. If I had just agreed, you would have been safe."
Hearing Mairon's words, Olórin's heart shattered. The hopelessness and sadness in his brother's voice was something he had never expected to hear and hoped to never hear again. In that moment, Olórin desperately wanted to find Melkor and destroy him for harming Mairon, for making Mairon think that giving in to the darkness was ever the right option.
"Mairon," Olórin softly said, pressing his forehead against Mairon's. "I would rather face any threat than have my safety rely on your suffering."
"But—" Sauron tried to insist, the sincerity in Olórin's eyes and the love being sent through their bond destroying the last of his self-control. He felt his eyes start to tear up again, just as they had in Námo's presence.
"So would I," Nárie softly announced, placing a supportive arm on Mairon's shoulder.
"Mairon," Eönwë's voice broke through the tension, softer now, a stark contrast to his usual commanding tone. "Did you really believe we would accept such a sacrifice?"
Sauron looked away, his gaze drifting downward as he grappled with the turmoil swirling within. Sacrificing his potential happiness or the prospect of redemption felt like a small price to pay if it meant safeguarding those he held dear.
"We would not," Olórin affirmed, his voice steady and resolute, the bond between them echoing his stubbornness and determination. "We would do everything we could to drag you back to Valinor."
Hearing those words from Olórin had clarified something deep within Sauron. Is that why? he thought, reflecting on the times Olórin had sought him out as Gandalf, persistently trying to get him to reconsider his allegiance to Melkor. It had always felt like a betrayal, a painful reminder of the brother he had lost to the service of the Valar. But now, understanding Olórin's true motives, the realization washed over him with overwhelming clarity.
Sauron's mind replayed every encounter with Gandalf, seeing them in a new light. The frustration and anger he had directed at Olórin for what he perceived as betrayal were now eclipsed by the recognition of Olórin's sacrifice. Sauron's breath hitched, and he felt a lump in his throat. His brother had given up the peace and beauty of Valinor to guide him back from the brink, never once abandoning him despite Sauron's rejection.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he choked out, the dam of his emotions finally breaking. Now it was his turn to cling to Olórin, his nails digging into his brother's tunic as he struggled to breathe. It felt like he was drowning, as if all the emotions he had suppressed in the past were now rushing him all at once. His body trembled with the intensity of his sobs, each one wrenching from the depths of his soul.
Olórin held him tightly, his own tears mingling with Mairon's. "It's alright," he whispered soothingly. "We're here, and we won't let you go through this alone."
Nárie and Eönwë exchanged solemn glances, their expressions softening with empathy. They stepped closer, forming a protective circle around the brothers. "We'll face whatever comes together," Nárie said gently, placing a reassuring hand around Mairon's shoulders.
It felt like the tears would never stop. The torrent of emotions, so long suppressed and ignored, now surged forth with an unyielding force. Sauron, who had once prided himself on his iron control and unshakable composure, found himself utterly overwhelmed. His chest heaved, and his hands shook uncontrollably. No matter how hard he tried to calm himself, to force the emotional flood back down, he couldn't. Each attempt to regain control only seemed to intensify the onslaught, the waves of sorrow and regret crashing over him with relentless fury.
As Mairon's emotions overwhelmed him, Olórin continued to hold him close, feeling the depth of their connection like never before. The bond between them, always strong, seemed to open fully for the first time, allowing a flood of emotions and memories to pass between them. Olórin felt Mairon's pain, his guilt, and his struggle—but then, something more.
Visions, fragments of another timeline, began to surface in Olórin's mind. He saw Mairon as Sauron, standing beside Melkor, orchestrating great acts of evil and destruction. The images were vivid and stark: lands laid waste, people enslaved, and a darkness that seemed to choke the very life from the world. Each scene struck Olórin like a physical blow, the weight of Sauron's actions in that alternate timeline pressing down on him.
Olórin's heart pounded as he processed these revelations. His brother, his beloved Mairon, had been responsible for unspeakable horrors. The enormity of it was almost too much to bear, and for a moment, Olórin's hold on Mairon tightened instinctively, as if to anchor himself in the present.
Mairon, sensing the change in Olórin, looked up, his tear-streaked face filled with fear and resignation. He could feel the shift in their bond, knew that Olórin had seen the truth. 'Olórin...' he whispered. 'I never wanted you to know. I—'
'Shhh, Mairon. Give me a moment,' Olórin cut him off. His voice was calm, but his eyes shone with unshed tears.
Olórin took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He needed a moment to center himself, to process the horrors he had witnessed. What he had just seen was more awful than anything he could have ever imagined—not only because of the darkness his little brother had sunk to as Melkor's chief lieutenant, but also because of the profound difference between Sauron and the Mairon he knew. It horrified him to know that Melkor's corruption could have such devastating effects.
When Olórin opened his eyes, he confirmed what his bond had already been telling him—that Mairon was already resigned to losing him, already grieving the loss of their bond and Olórin's love. But despite everything he had seen, the thought of giving up on his brother had never even entered Olórin's mind, and seeing him so sad grieved him deeply. Olórin started gently running his hand through Mairon's hair, seeking to offer him comfort and get his attention. 'I don't hate you,' Olórin whispered, sending a wave of love towards Mairon.
Mairon, still reeling from the torrent of emotions, was shocked by Olórin's soft declaration. He stared at his brother, wide-eyed, his breath catching in his throat. How could his brother still love him after witnessing the depths of his darkness? 'How? Didn't you see—?' he asked, his voice laced with disbelief.
'I saw,' Olórin gently interrupted. 'The darkness you were a part of, the choices you made, the pain you caused.' Mairon flinched. 'But I still love you,' Olórin affirmed.
Mairon felt adrift; Olórin's reaction made no sense. How could he still love him after seeing the depths of his darkness?
'Mairon, you must understand something.' Olórin cupped Mairon's face in his hands, forcing him to meet his gaze. 'I do not condone what you did. Those actions were terrible, and the consequences were devastating. But I see your remorse, your desire to change. And I believe in you.'
Mairon's eyes widened in surprise. 'You... you still believe in me? After everything you saw?'
'Yes,' Olórin replied firmly. His voice was filled with conviction, not only because he loved his brother but because of what he could feel through their bond. Their bond was still wide open, allowing Olórin to sense Mairon's fëa as clearly as his own. He could feel the aftereffects of Melkor's influence still lingering, but Mairon's fëa was already no longer like Sauron's, despite what Mairon's own mind kept telling him.
Currently, Mairon's mind was still too entrenched in the mindset of the Dark Lord of Mordor to sense what had already become obvious to Olórin. The shadows of his past actions loomed large, clouding his judgment and making him doubt his capacity for change. Every decision, every step he contemplated, was weighed down by the memories of his time under Melkor's influence, making it difficult for him to envision a future untangled from that darkness.
Yet, in the depths of his turmoil, Eru's intervention had sparked a transformation. It was as if a small, flickering light had been kindled within Mairon's soul, gradually growing brighter each day. This light represented his true self, the part of him that yearned for redemption and sought to distance itself from the sinister paths he had once walked. Olórin could see this transformation clearly; he could feel the shift in Mairon's fëa, the subtle but unmistakable signs of change that Mairon himself was too burdened to recognize.
Olórin understood that the journey ahead would be arduous. He knew that Mairon would stumble, that the weight of his past would threaten to drag him back into despair or darkness. But Olórin was determined to stand by his brother, to offer him the unwavering support and love he needed to navigate this treacherous path. He would never force Mairon's choices—true change had to come from within—but he would be there, a constant source of strength and guidance.
"Mairon," Olórin whispered, his voice trembling with empathy and reassurance. "You are not alone in this. We will face whatever comes together. You have my love, my support, and my faith. Always."
At that, the tears that had momentarily stopped restarted, though not the grief-filled sobs of before, but quiet, overwhelming tears of relief. Mairon could feel Olórin's presence wrapping around him like a protective cocoon. It was as if Olórin's spirit was reaching out to his own, a soft, soothing balm to the raw wounds of his heart. The gentle flow of love and compassion from Olórin was a stark contrast to the darkness that had enveloped him for so long.
It was this bond that gave him the strength to face the depth of his emotions, to allow himself to be vulnerable in a way he had not been for ages. Mairon leaned into Olórin's embrace, feeling the warmth and acceptance radiating from him.
Somewhere in the middle of it, Olórin started to hum a soft melody while running his fingers through Mairon's hair. The familiar tune was a lullaby from their early days, a soothing reminder of simpler times. The gentle notes intertwined with the hum of the glade, creating a cocoon of warmth and safety around Mairon.
Nárie and Eönwë stood close, their presence a silent but powerful testament to their support. Nárie's hand remained on Mairon's shoulder, a steady, grounding touch. Eönwë, despite his stern demeanor, watched with an expression softened by empathy.
Gradually, Mairon's tears subsided, the storm of emotions settling into a quiet, exhausted calm. He remained in Olórin's embrace, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of his brother's chest, the comforting hum of the lullaby still lingering in the air. Each breath he took felt like a small victory, a step away from the abyss that had threatened to consume him.
Mairon, for the first time in ages, allowed himself to lean on those who loved him. It was a foreign sensation, this reliance on others, yet it felt inexplicably right. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he felt his body relax. The walls he had built around his heart began to crumble, piece by piece, and as they fell, a profound sense of relief washed over him. It was as if the very act of breaking down was an act of liberation. He had been a prisoner of his own making for so long, trapped by his fear, guilt, and pride. Now, in the warmth of his brother's embrace, he began to see a glimmer of hope.
Unknown to any of them, another one of the shadows that had been clinging to his fëa was destroyed. These shadows, remnants of Melkor's influence, had whispered lies and fostered the darkness within him for so long. They were insidious, feeding on his insecurities and magnifying his worst fears. But with each tear shed, with each moment of vulnerability shared, they lost their grip on his spirit. The oppressive weight that had haunted him since he joined Melkor lightened ever so slightly, like the first rays of dawn piercing through a long, dark night.