97: Who Watches the Watcher?

Nornoros stood calmly in the anteroom to the Valar’s throne room in Ilmarin, waiting for the summons for his trial, though no one was calling it that. It was being labeled an enquiry, but Nornoros wasn’t fooled and knew exactly what it was. Eönwë was with him, ostensibly acting as his guard, but also there to give his fellow Maia some moral support. He gave Nornoros a wry look.

"You don’t seem particularly concerned, my friend, as to your fate," he said.

Nornoros shrugged and gave him a grin. "It will be what it will be. I knew what I was doing when I did it and I have no regrets. Perhaps our lord will remand me to the service of Lord Námo," he added with a sly smile. "I understand you found his... er... tutelage quite enlightening."

Eönwë raised an eyebrow. "You could do worse than become part of Lord Námo’s retinue for a time," Eönwë retorted, "though, in truth, I would hate to see you so demoted." He gave his fellow Maia an exasperated look. "Could you not have been less blatant in your actions, showing yourself to the Children the way you did?"

Nornoros sighed and shook his head. "I have asked that question myself and I see no other recourse I could have taken but the one that I did. I wanted to throttle Ingoldo myself. Young Ingil was correct. The ellon is just being mean for the sake of being mean. And as much as I wanted to tell them where Elindis, Indil and even Ingwë were, I knew enough not to step over that particular line."

"Well, our lord hath summoned thee, my friend," Eönwë said more formally. "I wish thee good fortune. At least thou hast not been summoned to appear at the Máhanaxar."

"For which I am truly grateful," Nornoros said fervently as the two entered the throne room, being careful to do so in fana.

All the Valar were there and Nornoros forced himself not to cringe under their cool regard, but kept his eyes on Eönwë’s back. In truth, he was more nervous than he had let on, and he wondered somewhat bleakly just what his punishment would be. He had so enjoyed watching over young Ingil again and had not realized until then just how much he truly had missed interacting with the ellon and his brother. He suddenly realized that those few short years as their guardian had been some of the happiest in his long life.

"Nornoros, my lord," Eönwë said with a bow and Nornoros pulled his mind back from the past to the present and gave the Elder King his obeisance while Eönwë continued forward to stand between the thrones of Manwë and Varda, stepping lightly over a pile of furs and Nornoros realized that Arafinwë, or rather ‘Pityahuan’ as he was called now, had been sent away for a time; he would not be a witness to what was an internal matter among the Ainur. Then he saw that each Vala’s chief Maia was also in attendance and his heart sank. This was more serious than he had imagined. He schooled himself to stillness, sending a silent plea to Atar that it would be well with him, receiving a slight caress, a feather’s touch, to his fëa that told him that Atar had heard him and, more importantly, was with him.

Then Manwë began speaking and he turned his attention to his lord. "Do you wish to explain yourself, Nornoros, before we pass judgment?"

Nornoros licked lips gone suddenly dry. "There is no excuse for what I did, lord," he said with a sigh. "Yet, I do not think I could have done other than I did. It went against the grain to stand by and watch young Ingil being beaten by Ingoldo, a beating the child did not deserve. Yet, when Ingil himself attacked Ingoldo I knew I had to intervene. I did not want that child’s fëa to be marred by hatred or suffer the taint of kinslaying, for I could see that his rage would have led him down that path if he were not stopped in time. Hopefully, my intervention has saved him from that fate."

There was silence in the throne room as the Valar contemplated the Maia’s words. Then Námo asked a question, his tone deceptively mild. "And what occurred in the council chamber?"

Nornoros turned to face the Doomsman of Arda, squaring his shoulders. "It is true that I... um... whispered into Ingil’s ear words of encouragement, and I expended some of my own power to strengthen his fëa, but I did not directly interfere with his or anyone else’s free will decisions. Ingil ultimately stood up to Ingoldo on his own."

"Yet your orders were to watch only," Námo retorted, still speaking mildly, almost casually.

Nornoros could feel himself growing faint under the Vala’s regard and wondered if he would indeed be given to the Lord of Mandos to serve him for a time and just how he would fare. Yet, the memory of how Eönwë, Fionwë and Olórin were placed in this Vala’s custody and how each of them fared heartened him. Eönwë had been correct when he said he could do a lot worse.

He realized that the Valar were waiting for an answer and he nodded. "Yes, that is true, and I regret that I... overstepped the parameters of my orders, but...."

"You do not regret it enough," Námo said for him when he hesitated slightly.

Nornoros shook his head. "No, lord. I do not regret it enough. Given the same scenario, or something similar, I fear I would do the same all over again, though perhaps I would be a bit more subtle in my approach."

"Nornoros," Manwë said and the Maia turned to face his own lord. "Perhaps I erred in assigning you as Ingalaurë’s guardian. No, let me finish," he admonished when Nornoros looked to protest. "I am not impugning your abilities. You are, in fact, very good at what you do, but I think it is because I asked you to watch over this particular Elf that perhaps your past relationship with him caused you to become emotionally involved, more so than if it had been anyone else."

"Yet, I only intervened when it seemed that Ingil’s very fëa was in danger of being corrupted, lord," Nornoros pleaded. "Admittedly, I know I overstep the bounds with my inspiring him in the council chamber, but I only inspired him, I did not dictate."

"It is a delicate balance, to be sure," Manwë said with a sigh. "Young Ingalaurë is at a crossroads in his life and we must tread very carefully."

Nornoros gave him a puzzled look. "I... I am not sure I...."

"Ingalaurë has a particular role to play, Nornoros," Námo answered for Manwë. "He has a destiny with which we must not interfere."

Nornoros felt a frisson of some dark foreboding course through him as he turned to face the Lord of Mandos. "What destiny, lord? What fate is in store for that child?" He feared the answer, already mourning the ellon’s loss.

Námo shook his head. "That remains to be seen," he said. "There are many factors at play and we can never safely predict the outcome of any of the Children’s actions. We must be careful where we step in, for our own actions could lead to less favorable outcomes. We’ve seen that with Fëanáro and the Noldor."

"And what is true for Ingalaurë is true for them all," Manwë said. "Each of these Children has a particular destiny, and any interference on our part can prove detrimental."

"Yet, to just stand by and watch them destroy themselves," Nornoros said with a shake of his head in dismay. "What purpose does that serve, for them or for us?"

"We Valar cannot be everywhere at once," Manwë answered. "Yet we need to know what is happening elsewhere in Aman. That is why you and others have been assigned to watch certain people. Watch," he emphasized. "It is the hardest thing any of us can do, but it is imperative that that is all we do at this time: watch and take note of all the undercurrents. The Children are suffering from shock with the loss of the Trees. Such a thing has never happened to them before and many are handling it badly. We, unfortunately, have the advantage of having gone through something similar when Melkor destroyed the Lamps, so we are not so much at a loss as the Children are. They are reacting to that loss by lashing out at one another. Ingoldo is as much a victim of this as Ingalaurë. He is not evil, though his fëa has been tainted. We must be as careful with him as we are with Ingalaurë or anyone else. Whatever our personal feelings toward any one individual, we must continue to remember that they are Eruhíni, beloved of Atar and of us. You may hate what Ingoldo is doing, but you should not hate him."

"Nor do I, lord," Nornoros protested, "though I admit that I would gladly throttle him myself, yet, I know that he is in as much pain and turmoil as the others, and I pity him more than anything."

"And that is well," Manwë said with a nod. "It is something we must all keep in mind as we continue to interact with the Children. They are all in pain and they are all to be pitied." He paused for a moment in contemplation. "And now we must decide your fate, my son," he finally said with a sigh.

Nornoros steeled himself for what was coming, hoping he would not shame himself or his brethren by any outward sign of distress at whatever his punishment would be. Manwë gave him a knowing look, as if he was aware of the Maia’s thoughts.

"I think the best thing is for you to continue watching over Ingalaurë," the Elder King said.

Nornoros blinked. "Excuse me?" he said without thinking and Manwë smiled while some of the other Valar chuckled at the Maia’s nonplused expression.

"Yes, I can think of no greater punishment than to send you back to watch over young Ingalaurë," Manwë replied. "To watch, mind you," he added more firmly. "Do I make myself clear?"

Nornoros nodded, trying not to gulp, and then gave his lord a bow. "Yes, my lord, you do."

"Good," Manwë said with a satisfied smile. "Off you go now and keep us informed of what is happening and remember: whatever is meant to be, must be, however much we would prefer it to be different. If you interfere again without my express permission, I will be far less lenient." The coldness of his tone was such that even Eönwë blinked in surprise, for Lord Manwë rarely allowed his emotions to show. Every Maia there was forcibly reminded of just who Lord Manwë truly was: Atar’s vice-gerent and, other than Melkor, the most powerful of all the Valar, though he rarely chose to exhibit that power.

"Yes, lord," Nornoros said meekly as he gave the Elder King his obeisance and then thought himself back to Vanyamar even as the Valar were dismissing their own Maiar.

When all the Maiar, including Eönwë, were gone there was silence within the throne room for a time. Finally, Manwë stirred, giving Námo a sharp look. "You still haven’t told us what young Ingalaurë’s destiny actually is, you know."

"I know," Námo said unapologetically, "but there are some things about which I may not speak. I can only say that he is destined to live up to his amilessë, to be the ‘Throne Guardian’, but only if we allow events to unfold as they must and not as we would like."

"We haven’t been doing well on that score lately," Tulkas remarked with a wry look and many nodded.

"True," Manwë averred, "but I think we need to focus on what we can do for the Children rather than what we would like to do. To that end, let us concentrate our efforts towards bringing light into the world once more." He paused and his expression became distant for a few seconds and then he nodded, his eyes glimmering with humor. "Mánatamir has informed me that he is returning with Pityahuan."

"Stupid name for an Elf," muttered Tulkas. "Wherever did you come up with it, Manwë?"

"Actually, you can blame Aulë for the name," Manwë retorted with a grin towards the Worldsmith.

Aulë gave them a sniff. "Arafinwë is too fine a name for a thrall," he said and many of them rolled their eyes and shook their heads in amusement.

"How much longer are we going to put up with this nonsense?" Varda asked her spouse. "It was all I could do to just sit there while he crawled across the floor like an abject puppy. I hope we don’t have to witness anything like that again."

"As do I," Manwë said with a sigh. "Námo and I are working on it, but Arafinwë is proving to be as stubborn as most of the rest of his family. At any rate, let’s get back to our discussion about creating more light for this benighted planet. Oh, and Námo, perhaps we should have someone keep an eye on Nornoros, just in case."

"Man tirë i-tirno?" Námo quipped.

"Something like that," Manwë replied with a wry grin. "Any suggestion? It should be someone who won’t rouse his suspicions."

Námo thought for a moment. "Calimo, I think will do. He and Nornoros are good friends, I understand. It would be natural for him to seek his fellow Maia out to see how he is faring after his reprimand. I will tell him to stick around to watch over Ingoldo. If anyone needs watching, it’s that one."

Manwë nodded in approval just as the doors opened and Mánatamir entered with Arafinwë trailing behind him. The Elder King smiled benignly at the ellon. "So, did you enjoy your little jaunt in the snow, Pityahuan?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," Arafinwë said meekly enough. "Thank you."

Manwë nodded and as the ellon took his place beside the Elder King’s throne, he patted Arafinwë on the head as usual. "That’s a good Pityahuan. Now, you’re just in time to hear Yavanna and Nienna give their report about the state of the Trees and then we have some more decisions to make, so listen carefully, for I will question you about this later."

Arafinwë nodded dutifully, "Yes, Master," he said and gave them his full attention. Many of the Valar hid smiles at the earnest look on the Elf’s face.

Manwë turned to Yavanna. "Tell us what you have learned, my dear."

Yavanna nodded, gracing them all with a smile. "We think we can bring forth one last fruit and flower from the Trees and...."

****

"I remember that!" Arafinwë exclaimed, interrupting the flow of Manwë’s recitation of events. "So that’s why you sent me off to play in the snow." He gave Manwë a glare.

Manwë and the other three Valar exchanged amused smiles. "Well, you cannot complain that you didn’t have fun playing, can you?" the Elder King asked, giving the ellon a knowing look.

Arafinwë blushed and looked down at his empty plate, for he had long finished eating and was merely nibbling on some fruit and cheese while Manwë filled him in on what had been happening.

"It was an internal matter concerning one of my People," Manwë said. "It did not concern you."

"Yet you tell me about it now," Arafinwë pointed out.

Manwë nodded. "So you would understand all the ramifications of what has been happening. You are the only one who will have all the pertinent information which others lack."

"And what am I to do with this information?" Arafinwë enquired, looking somewhat troubled.

"That remains to be seen, and ultimately it is for you to decide," Manwë stated.

Arafinwë frowned. "It troubles me what you have told me about Ingoldo and Ingalaurë. What else has been happening with them? Did Ingil find Elindis and Indil? And where is Ingwë in all this? I really can’t believe you’ve just sat back and watched as we all went insane!"

"And what would you have had us do, Pityahuan?" Námo asked, his tone dark.

Arafinwë cringed. "Why do you still call me that?" he asked, not ready to answer the Vala’s question, for, in truth, he had no answers.

Námo cast him an amused look. "Consider it an epessë if you will."

"Nothing admirable or honorable about being called a hound," Arafinwë muttered.

"That depends on one’s point of view," Aulë said. "Hounds are tenacious in their pursuit of their goal. They are also trustworthy, intensely loyal and faithful to their masters. I can think of worse traits for a person to have."

"At any rate, what would you have us do?" Manwë asked. "What course of action should we have taken that would not have made things worse?"

Arafinwë sat in contemplation, going through one scenario after another and discarding them almost as soon as he thought of them and finally sighed. "I don’t know," he said dispiritedly. "I do not think I’m wise enough to venture any opinion on the matter."

"You are wiser than you know," Námo said. "We, who see further into Arda’s history than any mirroanwë still hesitate to interfere, for you are still a mystery to us, and I suspect you always will be."

"Yet, you interfered with the Noldor," Arafinwë said.

"And look where it got us," Nienna retorted with a snort.

Arafinwë gave her a wry grin. "Where it got you is me, lady. If Lord Námo had not come among us and spoken his doom, I would not be sitting here. I would be somewhere else."

"But you see our problem, don’t you?" Manwë insisted. "Where do we draw the line between rendering aid and interfering, between succoring and dictating? It is an impossible situation, and we do have our own concerns about which none of you Elves are aware."

"The creation of the Great Lights," Arafinwë said with a nod.

"And that is just one thing," Aulë pointed out. "There are other matters about which we will not speak."

"And there is this," Námo added, his expression still dark. "Some things must happen whether we wish them or not. There are some things over which none of us have control, however much we would like to believe we do. Free will rules all, even us, and we must be careful how we tread. That is no less true for you as it is for us. You will be given information others do not have and in the normal course of events they would never obtain it. It will be up to you to decide if and when and who should be given certain information. It is one of the duties of a leader to discern this for the benefit of all, or at least for most. There is no easy answer to any of this, Arafinwë. Manwë is the Elder King but in some ways he has less freedom to choose one course or another than the rest of us by virtue of being the Elder King. When you finally take up the crown, you will find that true for yourself as well."

Arafinwë’s expression was more thoughtful as Manwë spoke. "All that aside, we still need to tell you about Ingwion."

Arafinwë nodded, pushing back his plate and lifting his goblet of wine as he leaned back in his chair. "By all means, lord, tell me what Ingwion has been up to all this time."

Manwë smiled. "Well, first you need to know more of what happened with Ingalaurë before we can speak about Ingwion and others. Ingoldo, as you can imagine, refused to cooperate in telling them where Elindis, Indil and Ingwë were so Ingalaurë ordered a massive search and...."

****

Man tirë i-tirno?: ‘Who watches the watcher?’

Epessë: ‘After-name’, a nickname, mostly given as a title of admiration or honor.