Rebellion by Uvatha the Horseman

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The Talent Scout

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The Talent Scout

Mairon sat at a table in back of the tavern, opposite one of Oromë's Maiar. He knew the young man's name, but nothing of his character or interests. His companion believed this was a chance encounter. Actually, Mairon had been stalking him for days, trying to manufacture an excuse to spend time with him.

Today, the noontime crush in this popular tavern gave him an opportunity. When he spotted his target sitting alone at a small table, he squeezed through the crowd and deliberately bumped the table hard enough to knock over the young man's tankard. Ale spilled across the surface, narrowly missing his lap.

"I'm so sorry. Please let me buy you another drink."

Without waiting for an answer, he called out,

"Barmaid, bring us two tankards of your best ale."

He pulled over a chair from another table and sat down, uninvited.

"Have you ordered lunch yet? It's on me."

An hour later, Mairon was leaning forward, feigning interest while his new friend talked about bird watching.

"I like birds, too."

Except that I can't tell a nuthatch from a sparrow. Where's Aiwendil when you need him?

He'd have to learn the names of common birds before their next meeting, if this scheme was going to work.

Mairon crossed his arms when the young man crossed his, and tapped his toe with the same rhythm as the man tapped his. Mirroring was a powerful tool. It could make the other person feel like they'd known you all their life.

He touched the letter in his pocket. He hadn't told anyone else about it. It was his secret, and it made him feel powerful and important. It was a personal note from someone he cared about deeply, ending with a simple request. "Identify the dissatisfied ones, and in them, plant the seeds of Rebellion."

Mairon realized that what he was doing was dangerous. If he got caught, he could go to prison. But he was being careful.

And besides, I'm too smart to get caught.

When the noontime meal came to an end, Mairon picked up the tab. "You can get it next time." he told the young man. It created an obligation on his new friend that there would be a next time. After all, it takes time and repeated contact to build trust.

When the young man had left, he pulled out a small notebook and wrote down everything he could remember.

Name – Roch.

Affiliation – Oromë.

Interests – bird watching, cares especially about the kind of house sparrows that build mud nests.

He wrote down every trivial thing he could remember about the man, left handed, medium height and slender, preferences in food and drink, where he lives, who his friends are.

He'd made no attempt to find out whether his target was dissatisfied with his life in Valinor, even though that was the piece of information he was after. Pressing him for confidences too early would just scare him off. He knew from experience it would come out naturally over time.

-o-o-o-o-o-

He met one of Vairë's Maiar for dinner at another tavern that evening. They'd built a close friendship over many meetings. At the last one, Mairon judged him nearly ready to hear about the Rebellion.

When he arrived, the man was waiting for him at a booth in the back.

Good, they could speak privately.

"What are you having?" asked his friend.

"Have you ordered already? I'll have the same." said Mairon. "And what are you having to drink? I'll have that too."

Mirroring also works with food and drink. The downside was having to eat a meal he didn't like, when he was the one paying.

Mairon leaned forward and listened with all his attention as his target vented about being a servant in Vairë's household.

"I hear you." said Mairon, nodding sympathetically.

Normally he would have said 'I see', but he was mirroring his target's speech patterns.

The barmaid cleared away the dishes, and Mairon picked up the tab. He waited until she was out of earshot. Then, with studied casualness, he asked,

"I hear that Melkor's people have built a fortress, the largest in Arda."

"Wouldn't that be something?" the man sighed.

"What do you mean?" asked Mairon.

"It seems so brave and desperate of them, that's all. It's kind of exciting, really."

"I thought so, too." agreed Mairon. "I hear that, as Maiar, they have a lot more freedom than we do. That they live like adults, the way the Valar do here."

The other man looked off into the distance. "I'm sorry I didn't go, when the others left."

After his friend left, Mairon stayed behind for a few minutes, writing up his notes. The man had sung Melkor's discordant theme in the Music, at least for a little while. Mairon felt sure he would join the Rebellion. All he needed was a little push.

-o-o-o-o-o-

A few evenings later, Mairon met with yet another target. At the end of the evening, they picked a time for their next meeting and said goodnight. Ten minutes later, he closed his notebook and got up to go home.

The tavern was packed. There was a crowd near the door so thick, he had to turn sideways and push his way through it. In the press of bodies, someone put a folded piece of paper in his hand and closed his fingers over it. He shoved it in his pocket before anybody saw.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Back at home in the Mansions of Aulë, he sat on his bed and pulled out the letter. The seal was Melkor's.

Melkor. The most beautiful creature in Ea, and the mightiest. Black hair, high cheekbones, laughing eyes ..

He smiled, savoring the moment before he broke the seal and unfolded the paper.