DISGUISE: Emissaries

SUMMARY: As Darkness rises once again in Middle-earth, the Valar discuss a mission for some of their People to undertake.

MEFA 2008: Third Place: Humor (Valar & Maiar)

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For once the Valar were all gathered together in the throne room in Ilmarin. Even Ulmo had agreed to attend. They were alone, for not even their most trusted Maiar were in attendance. Manwë had called them after his Eagles had reported a Shadow beginning to fall upon Eryn Lasgalen and several of the Valar opined that Sauron was perhaps attempting to regain a foothold in Middle-earth.

"Or one of his lieutenants," Tulkas growled when he heard Manwë’s news. "I suspect it is only a matter of time before the Nazgûl rise again."

"Unfortunately," Manwë agreed. "Much sorrow could have been avoided if Isildur had not claimed the Ring."

"Neither here nor there," Námo said coldly. "I do not think Isildur was ever meant to destroy the Ring. I think Atar had something else in mind from the very beginning, a part of the Third Theme we never heard."

"Why do you say that?" Ulmo asked with a frown. "Have you seen something...."

Námo shook his head. "I have not, but I spoke with Isildur briefly before I sent him on his way and he told me he had been plagued by dreams for several nights before the final battle."

"What sort of dreams?" Irmo asked in curiosity.

Námo gave his younger brother a wry look. "Let me guess. You never sent them."

Irmo shook his head. "I did not."

Estë gave her spouse a look of surprise. "Well, if you didn’t send the dreams, then who... oh."

Námo nodded, his smile grimly amused. "Exactly. Isildur was not too clear about them and much of what he described made no sense, even to me, but one thing stood out: in every dream he saw three small figures trudging across the plateau of Gorgoroth towards Orodruin and one of them bore around his neck the One Ring."

"Who were they, did he know?" Varda asked, looking as intrigued as the others by Námo’s words.

Námo shook his head. "Nay, he did not, only he was sure they were neither Men nor Elves nor Dwarves or even Orcs."

They all sat in silence for a time, digesting this bit of information and coming to no conclusions. "That makes no sense," Oromë finally said. "Surely these creatures had to belong to one of the sentient races of Middle-earth."

"As I said, much of what Isildur described made little sense, but clearly he somehow knew that it was not his task to destroy the Ring when it did come to him."

"And now it appears that Sauron is rising once again to plague the Children," Manwë said, his tone sad.

"So what will we do about it?" Yavanna asked. "That is, after all, why you summoned us, is it not?"

"Indeed," Manwë replied. "I have in mind to send some of our People to Middle-earth to help succor the Children in the coming crisis."

"Who?" Aulë asked.

"In what manner?" his spouse enquired almost at the same time.

"Their numbers will have to be few," Varda explained, "and they will not be sent to lord it over the Children but to encourage and teach them to work together against a common foe. Already, Elves and Men are drifting apart and there is even discord between Men so that bonds of kinship and fellowship are loosening and unraveling to their detriment."

"I have in mind to create a new Order among the Maiar," Manwë said. "These will go to Middle-earth as our emissaries."

"Surely not in their own forms," exclaimed Tulkas. "It won’t do to have them walking amongst the Children as they are, else Men especially will become intimidated."

"That is why we think they should go in disguise," Varda replied with a smile.

That idea intrigued them all. "Disguised as what?" Námo asked with an amused look.

"Let us first decide who we will send and then go from there," Manwë suggested and to that they all agreed. For a time there was much debate, some of it heated, as to who would be the most appropriate and many names were offered until finally four were selected: Curumo and Aiwendil from the People of Aulë and Yavanna and from the People of Nienna, Pallando, who, when informed of his selection, asked that his friend Alatar of the People of Oromë and Nessa be allowed to accompany him and the Valar acquiesced to the Maia’s request.

During the debate, Námo remained aloof and neither agreed nor disagreed with the choices that were made. Yet he was uneasy in his mind about three of them. He glanced at Curumo, Aulë’s servant. There was a haughtiness to this particular Maia that reminded him too much of Aulendil who had styled himself ‘Mairon’ but had eventually become Sauron. Pallando and Alatar appeared competent, but the Vala detected a weakness of resolve in them that might prevent them from remaining true to their mission should they become enamored of power. Aiwendil only seemed to be a proper choice, yet the antagonism between him and Curumo did not go unnoticed by the Lord of Mandos and he feared that could spell trouble. He sent a private thought to Manwë, voicing his concerns and was pleased when Manwë did not dismiss them out of hand but accepted them and admitted that he too had certain reservations. Then Námo made one small suggestion and Manwë smiled.

"I think we should send one more," the Elder King said suddenly, taking the rest of them by surprise.

"Who do you have in mind?" Varda asked.

"Olórin," Manwë replied, looking pointedly at Námo.

"He has been serving me for some time," Námo said with a faint smile, "when he is not with Nienna. He has learnt much from us both and I think he will be ideal." He watched Curumo’s expression darken while Pallando and Alatar looked on with disinterest. Olórin was not one with whom they interacted much so they did not know him well. Aiwendil, however, actually looked relieved and Námo hid a smile. Of the four, he was the youngest in Atar’s Thought, and the least sure of himself, yet there was a gentleness about him that warmed Námo. That the Maia was a friend of Olórin’s was obvious from his reaction.

Olórin, in the meantime, was summoned and informed of the mission, which he accepted with humility and delight. "I am thy servant in all things, my lord," the Maia said to Manwë with a bow.

"So now that we have decided who to send," Vairë said, "it still remains for us to decide how they should be sent." She looked at Manwë and Varda. "You mentioned something about going in disguise."

The Elder King and the Queen of Stars nodded. "To send them as they are will defeat the purpose of their mission," Manwë said.

"I have worn this shape for so long, my lord," Curumo interjected somewhat petulantly, "I doubt me that I could easily exchange it for another."

Námo’s eyes narrowed at Curumo’s words, but Olórin merely chuckled. "Come now, my friend, you spend most of your time unclothed. You’re merely out of practice." With that the Maia’s form began to shift until standing before them was an ellon of thirty summers, obviously one of the Noldor by his coloring. Before anyone could comment, the Elf-child was replaced in rapid succession by a Dwarf, a king of Men and a horse, of all things, before Olorin returned to his original form. "There, you see," he said with a twinkle in his eyes, "it’s not that hard. I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it before long."

Curumo sneered at his fellow Maia. "Well, since you’re the expert in shape-shifting, perhaps our Masters should let you decide on our disguises, though I refuse to go as a Dwarf."

Aulë frowned at his servant at that but said nothing. Námo smiled. "I think that’s an excellent suggestion."

The other Valar agreed and Manwë bade Olórin to choose their disguises. For a long moment the Maia stared at nothing in particular as he stood in deep thought. Finally, he looked up at the Elder King and gave him a bow. "With thy permission, sire," he said, "I think something like this might be appropriate." Slowly, he began to change his form. He kept the shape of the Children, but he appeared more like one of the Secondborn. His hair lengthened and became grey as did the beard that sprouted from his cheeks. His face became lined as if he were suddenly old and his raiment mutated from the white tunic and grey surcoat of his office into humble grey robes. He, in fact, became quite ugly in features when likened to his former beauty and all watched in amazement at the transformation.

"And why should any of us demean ourselves to look like that?" Curumo demanded with a contemptuous sniff. "Why can we not appear as one of the Firstborn, who are at least beautiful to look upon, though their beauty barely compares with our own."

Olórin shrugged. "The Firstborn would accept us I think whatever our guise, for there are still some amongst them who remembered us from former times and would welcome us howsoever we appeared. That cannot be said of the younger Children. They would look upon us and either fear us or worship us and that is not our goal. Nay, if we appear humble and more like elderly Men we will be more respected. Men especially revere the elderly amongst them for the wisdom they have achieved."

"I doubt if any Secondborn has achieved any amount of wisdom, seeing how short their lives are," Alatar said somewhat disdainfully.

"Then perhaps you should spend some time in my Halls, Alatar," Námo offered coldly, "and listen to the wisdom of those who have suffered death in all its agonies before you make such unthinking statements concerning any of Atar’s Children."

The Maia visibly paled and gave the Lord of Mandos his obeisance and apology, which Námo accepted without speaking further. Manwë raised an eyebrow at Námo but otherwise did not reprimand the younger Vala. "I think Olórin’s suggestion has merit. Yes, I think incarnating as elderly looking Men will work."

"One other suggestion if I may, my lord," Olórin said.

"Say on, Olórin," Manwë commanded.

"I think it behooves us to become fully incarnate, and allow ourselves to suffer pains of hunger, and thirst, fear and fatigue, just as the Children do."

"Why should we do that?" Aiwendil asked, not in belligerence, but in actual curiosity.

"How can we truly understand them and help them and win their trust if we do not suffer with them, both in joy and sorrow?" Olórin answered.

"In other words," Námo said gravely, "you wish to suffer the possibility of bodily death."

"It seems only fair that we take the same risks as they do simply by being born as Incarnates," Olórin replied with a shrug.

Curumo looked appalled at the idea, while Pallando and Alatar seemed uneasy. Aiwendil merely looked thoughtful, then gave his friend a brief sunny grin. "Sounds rather exciting when you put it that way."

Olórin laughed and gave Aiwendil a hug. "Just don’t go falling out of trees and breaking your neck."

The Valar smiled at that and Manwë nodded. "Then it is decided. Choose what guise you will so long as you appear as elderly Men."

"As you will be truly incarnate, though," Námo interjected, "your hröar should age but slowly as do those of the Firstborn and like the Firstborn you should suffer no illness, but fatigue you will know and hunger and thirst. Doubt and fear will be your companions and your memories of Aman will be clouded. Much of your innate powers will be curtailed that you be not tempted to use them."

The Maiar nodded their understanding, though, again, Námo noticed Curumo grimacing at the thought of no longer having the range of powers he presently enjoyed. One by one they made the transformation. Aiwendil adopted brown robes and a dark green cloak, befitting one who was a servant of Yavanna. Pallando’s robes were a deep blue for some reason, but did not look out of character. True to form, his friend Alatar copied him, though he adopted a blue that was several shades lighter. Finally, Curumo made the transformation and Námo frowned at the pristine white robes but did not otherwise comment. Of the five, Curumo still looked too regal and haughty but there was nothing any of them could or would do about it.

Manwë merely nodded as each made his transformation and when all five stood before him in their various guises he stepped down from his throne and handed each of them a staff as symbols of their office, naming Curumo as the head of their Order which he called the Istari, a word that Men would render as ‘Wizards’ in their various tongues.

"Ulmo has made arrangements for your transportation to Middle-earth," the Elder King told them. "Remember your oaths to us, my sons, and may Atar watch over you."

One by one, beginning with Curumo, they all received the blessings of the Valar before filing out. Olórin was the last and when it came Námo’s turn to give him a blessing he smiled at his former servant, his eyes bright with merriment. "I wonder what Curumo would have said if you had decided on the horse."

Olórin burst out laughing, then bowed to the Lord of Mandos, giving him a wink. "Actually, my lord, I was almost ready to go with the Dwarf, instead."

Laughter followed the Maia out of the throne room as the humblest and wisest of the Istari joined his fellow Wizards to begin their journey to Middle-earth.

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Ellon: Male elf.

Note: According to Tolkien, Sauron’s original name was Mairon ‘the Admirable’. [Parma Eldalamberon 17, s.v. SAWA-]