Once in a Fair Green Country
V
"Melkor will be attended to," said Manwë, but his kinsman, Tulkas, had already left the Ring of Doom to find the errant Vala, charging through the assembled crowd of witnesses and Maian onlookers. Olórin stepped aside to let him past, then turned his attention back to the proceedings. He chose to remain unseen to all but the Valar and his own kind, for across the Mahanaxar he could see Irimien amongst the group of elves who had seen the incident in the square or knew of it. He imagined Irimien would not notice him, even if he did take on physical form, yet it was easier this way. Beside him he sensed Eonwë and Ilmarë, and felt their attention on him rather than the debate within the Ring. Perhaps they were watching his reaction, seeing if he would speak up in defence of the elves, or of Fëanor in particular.
Olórin, in truth, did not know what to say. He knew that this was a matter beyond his wisdom, and so had been, in a way, glad to tell Manwë what he had seen and leave the incident in the hands of the Valar.
"However," Manwë went on, "there is still the matter of Fëantáro. For though the malice of Melkor may be, at the root of it, to blame, it was this ellon who did break the peace of Aman, and who drew his sword upon his kinsman. Such cannot be ignored."
"Thou speakest of thraldom," said Namo the judge. "If thraldom it be, thou canst not escape it; for Manwë is King of Arda, and not of Aman only. And this deed was unlawful, whether in Aman or not in Aman. Therefore this doom is now made: for twelve years thou shalt leave Tirion where this threat was uttered. In that time take counsel with thyself, and remember who and what thou art. But after that time this matter shall be set in peace and held redressed, if others will release thee."
"I will release my brother," said Fingolfin suddenly. For a moment all, Vala, Maia or Elf, looked upon the younger son of Finwë, and Fëanor turned, for the first time since his arrival at the Ring to look upon the group of elves. He remained implacable, but Olórin fancied he saw something in Fëanor’s eyes, something more than mere surprise. Despite his years observing the Quendi, Olórin still could not understand them.
"So be it," said Manwë. "For twelve years this doom will stand. And with thee go thy sons, and any who would choose to stand by thee despite thy wrongdoings."
"Never have I let my son go alone into the world," replied Finwë, standing at the head of the elven crowd. "In my solitude, before my life was blessed with love and the hand of Indis, he was my strength and my sole endeavour. If it is the will of the council that some might travel with Fëanor and remain with him in this exile, then I shall quit my halls and travel with him. Those amongst my household shall have the choice. I shall feel no malice to those who wish to remain in Tirion."
"If thy heart is set," said Manwë, "none shall endeavour to stop thee. Let us hope thou canst persuade thy son to heed his father’s word once more."
"And what of Olórin?" whispered Eonwë darkly, shifting closer to Olórin. "Will he follow after those he has grown to love, or will he remain with his own kind?"
"He will remain," Olórin replied with utter surety. "There is nothing for him."
As he spoke, his gaze fell again upon Irimien, as she moved off with her people.
"It is not wise to follow," said Ilmarë, as the Maiar too drifted away from the Mahanaxar, with no real destination in mind. "There is an ill wind, can you not sense it?"
"I have heard it in the voice of Manwë," added Eonwë. "I have heard him say to Varda that he thinks things are soon to change. Long has he watched the writhing corruption in Aman, yet what can he say? What can he do against it, since the Quendi are free beings? If they choose to spoil that which was provided for them, then they must accept the consequences. All that Manwë and the others can do is to ensure the section of their populace corrupted by Melkor’s ways will not ruin all of Aman for their kind."
"For your own sake, Olórin," Ilmarë continued, "do not follow her. You know of whom I speak, though Eonwë may not see it. Our kind must not follow one side or the other, but must stay true to our masters. Trust that the Valar know best."
"I know this," Olórin told her gruffly. "We all have our duties to do. We must think of that alone, and let the Quendi take their own path without our interference."
Olórin left them at that, hoping that it would be as easy to enact this philosophy as it was to speak it.
~*~
The sun had tried hard to break through the black clouds that drifted up to the swathe the skies above Nienna’s halls. Small streaks of distant gold could just be seen through the twisting vapours, yet somehow that glimmer of light only leant weight to the mournful atmosphere about the place; so beautiful, yet it could not fully penetrate the clouds and remained forever out of reach.
Olórin hesitated for a long while before entering, but finally, when he came to the great hall, he found the Vala by her brazier, face barely visible in the dying light, a fog of dark, newly wrought cloud around her feet.
"She is not there," Nienna said by way of greeting. She did not look up from her work.
"Not yet," Olórin replied.
"Every day now you come to Mandos. Every day you leave, unable to decide if you should rejoice or weep."
"If she comes to Mandos," sighed Olórin, "then I know that she has met her end in Arda."
"Namo ought not to allow you to wander so about his halls," mused the Vala.
"He does not let me wander. Yet his servants will answer my question each day. They tell me if her fëa has come to Mandos and will say naught more. Then I go, unsure why I wished to know."
"Because there is more pain in that," said Nienna. "To know that she is slain would be to have some final word upon it all. And ‘twould give you hope, for if she and her kind may one day be pardoned and released, you may be reunited in Aman. If she lives then you will not see her again, but you would know she was well, and you could close your mind to her. The unknown kindles hope and it is that hope that causes pain, for it is that faintest of glimmers that we desire most, that we long for."
"How can I wish for death?" asked Olórin. "Only so that I can see her? It would be heartless of me, selfish in the greatest sense. I ought not to feel that way."
"And Namo ought not to allow you in those halls to ask after her. Yet he does. For whether you speak with him or with his servants, his permission is given and he knows of it. If you would question every tremor within your being, Olórin, you shall never again know happiness. These things pass, like clouds across the sun, casting their shadows for but a while, before something entirely new succeeds them. The wisest among us can never predict every caprice of fate. Only Eru knows, and we must adapt and learn as best we can. Only Eru can be flawless."
"Then one day I may forget her? And this madness I have succumbed to?"
"No," said Nienna. "But one day you may understand it."
~*~
"In all my years," said Gandalf quietly, "I never heard news of her again. I do not know if she lives here in Arda still, or if her spirit shunned the summons of Mandos and lingered here. No doubt I may never know. And if I were to find her again, I do not know what I would do. For she means so much to me still, and yet my heart no longer years for her as once it did. Nienna was right. I have never forgotten her, yet my heart seems to have healed in part. No longer do I ache to think of her name, but instead I remember her with fondness only. True, there has never been another, nor do I think there ever will be, but it no longer grieves me."
He sighed deeply.
"So there, my friend. The old man is far older than you can imagine, and yet he was not wise enough to escape the follies of the heart. Though I ought not to have spoken of it, and I would ask you not to repeat anything I have…"
Gandalf glanced over at Elrond and then smiled. The Master of Imladris sat in his chair, head slightly to one side, his features relaxed his eyes closed. Gandalf wondered for a moment just how much he had heard before sleep overtook him, and gave the wine bottles a dire glance, cursing them for loosening his tongue. Then, wearily, he rose and prized the goblet from Elrond’s hand, setting it down safely on the desk. He could find out how much Elrond knew in the morning.
"Goodnight," Gandalf whispered, then withdrew into the shadows, wandering out onto a balcony above the river where he could look out upon the night.
Middle-earth was such vast place, he mused. And he had no time to find her. Though he knew that somewhere, out there in the dark, she may have been singing to the stars, or sleeping on a talan in Lórien, or watching the sea in Lindon, there was no real chance that he would see her again. There was too much to do. Duty again must take precedence.
Yet though he knew this, he still wondered, if one day...
And he smiled as he smoked his pipe and remembered those moments again.
~*~
Notes
Mandos / Namo’s speech if from The Silmarillion: Of the Silmarils and the Unrest of the Noldor