Chasing Mirages by Russandol

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Exile

Eönwë sails to Middle-earth.

 

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2. Exile

By the time Anar rose above the horizon, I was utterly wretched. As well as impeding almost all movement, Angainor’s links somehow sapped away the thrill of thrumming with the Music that we Ainur rejoice in. Each of its pulses became instead a reminder of lost freedom and squandered time.

When Arafinwë arrived, he only brought with him a handful of warriors. Manwë walked into the Circle with Námo and three of his Maiar. Olórin, with whom I had always been close, was one of them.

‘Are you ready for this, Eönwë?’ spoke the Elder King. Genuine concern tinted his voice and a touch of his mind caressed my thought in reassurance.

‘How can I ever be?’ Aloud, I answered, ‘I am, my lord.’

‘Then let us proceed.’

Angainor flashed and fell from my limbs. The clinking of its glimmering links hitting the stony ground was deafening in the silence of the Máhanaxar. I stretched both my ethereal presence and the material shape that clad it, both free at last from dreary oppression.

At Námo’s request, I discarded my raiment, the same one I had worn during the War. In its stead, I projected a mist of radiance around my naked self for the benefit of the Children, who otherwise would have watched me disappear completely.

The Lord of Mandos stepped towards me, and raised his right hand to the glowing cloud I had become. On his palm he held a luminous orb of confined pure energy from which he would build my hröa. He commanded me to open my mind and follow his instructions precisely. I obeyed in dread.

A shimmering spiral slowly poured out from the sphere and began to envelop me. The familiar tingling of charged matter coalescing around me became, for once, uncomfortable and somewhat disturbing, but I did not oppose it and let my being flow into it.

When the process ended, I found myself merged again with the tangible fabric of the world. The first awareness was that of the loud, steady beat of a heart, of my heart. Then came the overwhelming urge to breathe.

The corporeal raiment of the Ainur, the fana, is created in image of those of the Children of Eru, but remains effectively detached in a way that makes us resemble them while it does not bind us as their hröar do. I could immediately feel the difference to this current shape. My whole being was crammed inside its living flesh, and devoid of any inputs but those acquired through its imperfect senses.

The world around me had dimmed. I began to analyse the unusual sensations carefully.

I heard the sound of my breath, and if I listened intently, also that of the Incarnates who stood nearby. Weak creaking of leather and tinkling of metal also came from their direction. Further away there was the song of birds, and the rustle of the soft wind upon the grass on the hills that surrounded us. I strained my hearing, but there was nothing else. It was unnerving to have lost so much sensitivity, to be deaf to wide portions of the spectrum of frequencies, to fail to isolate each source of sound and to perceive its parameters.

From the kiss of the breeze on my skin I concluded that I was naked. Tentatively, I tensed groups of muscles and they responded to my commands. How did I know to do so, when it was nothing like controlling my fana? I was grateful that Námo had at least provided me with this ability, that I was not completely bereft of power and vulnerable, like a newborn.

I felt the pressure against the soles of my feet, and the mostly unconscious effort to will my body to remain balanced upon them. Somehow I knew I would be able to walk. I wriggled my toes, then my fingers.

Finally I dared open my eyes. Light was both brighter and darker than ever before, a fraction of what I had been able to “see” in the past. I could no longer perceive its duality or measure its path, just observe its effect on what it touched, both colour and warmth. It was frightening to behold the world in this limited manner. I sensed the speed of my heartbeat increase, and the palms of my hands became slightly moist.

‘All is well,’ spoke Námo to my mind. ‘Do not fear.’

I thought of asking how he knew, but I seemed to have lost the ability to speak through ósanwe, even if I could still listen through it. I felt detached from him, from Manwë and from the other Maiar, my kindred. My skin crawled with goose bumps, a most alien, uncontrollable sensation and I shivered with fright, despite Námo’s words.

‘I know what you feel, I have tried it before you,’ he explained. I was not sure whether he had detected my anguish at being imprisoned or just guessed my train of thought. ‘Nod if you can hear me.’

I moved my head down, then up again, slowly. In other circumstances I would have been curious and amused at the thought of the Lord of Mandos submitting himself to such a distasteful experience. But now I was not.

‘Look around,’ he said.

I did, forcing myself to ignore my frustration at my reduced eyesight. Arafinwë stood close by, and his mien showed wonder mixed with apprehension. From the position of his eyes in relation to mine, I guessed I was of a slightly greater height, whereas before I had always stood at least a head taller than the tallest of the Quendi. This made me feel strangely insecure.

The breeze blew a strand of black hair across my eyes. It felt silky and cool, quite a pleasant sensation. I could also feel the light of Anar warming my face, caressing my flesh. I had never perceived its power this way before, and I spread my arms to the sides and moved my fingers while I watched my shadow replicate their motion on the ground.

With my ears I heard Námo this time:

‘You may find your shape enjoyable, in ways far removed from anything you have experienced before.’ It sounded like a promise. Someone snickered. I recalled Melyanna’s words.

‘I would hold you to this assurance, my lord.’ The first sound of my new voice startled me. It was not as deep as the one I had grown used to as my own when communicating to the Children.

I looked at my hand intently, front and back. I could not shift its shape or size, the colour of the skin that covered it or any other attribute by the power of my will alone, as I could with my fana. I could order my hand to move through the connections already built into the flesh, to which I now was tied, but it would only obey me within the boundaries of its design. I had seen enough broken bodies during the War to know what would happen if I tried to force a limb in a way it would not naturally go.

Effectively I had become the fëa that resided within this hröa, its master. But I was not one of the Incarnates; my “fëa” was a whole Maiarin being, now caged and muffled. If the bonds that trapped me were severed by death or other means, the hröa would decay but I would be free, except for Námo’s command to return to his Halls.

I was yanked out of my introspection by the snort from one of Arafinwë’s guards, who had his sight fixed on something below my waist. I bent my neck to look at myself. I had guessed correctly, I was wearing no clothes at all, but this fact did not bother me. In fact, I was far too clad for comfort. I spared a grudging thought of admiration for Námo’s attention to detail, that had even designed a navel for my body. Then I realised the soldier was looking a little further down, and I stared as well at the sight of my genitals, nestled in curly black hair. The penis was half erect. I wondered if anything was wrong. At least I was male, in accordance with my choice of form.

At Arafinwë’s orders, a cloak was placed in my hands. Olórin helped me wrap it around my new, unfamiliar shape.

In the past, curiosity had led me to acquire some basic knowledge about the main parts of the Children’s hröa and how they functioned to support life, but now I would have to study my new anatomy more thoroughly, as well as its workings. Surely I would find a chance to do so over the next two ages.

I had already found out several interesting facts. A quick experiment had proved that I could only remain unblinking for a short while before my eyes became increasingly uncomfortable. The woollen fabric of the cloak provoked a pleasant tingling on my skin. However, if I fixed my attention on the feeling, it soon seemed to grow into an annoying itch. I scratched it away and enjoyed the pressure of my fingernails raking the skin.

My musings were interrupted when Manwë stood up.

‘While in Endórë, it may be wise to use a new name. I will make my choice known to you at a time of need,’ he spoke to my mind only. I said nothing at his strange statement. ‘May Eru guard you, Eönwë,’ he added, for all to hear.

‘And you, my lord Manwë.’ I began to bow to him, but he took me by the arms, enveloped me in an embrace and kissed my brow. His fana hummed very slightly next to my skin. I shivered.

Then he was gone, and all was made ready for my departure while I waited under the guard of the Noldorin warriors.

 

~o~

 

Endórë, Year 4 of the Second Age of Arda

The Telerin sailors had not been told of my identity and, even before my first day on board was over, they had decided that I was not worth bothering about. Their initial friendly approaches had been at best ignored, mostly rebuked with bitter words, as the depth of my misery was finally revealed to me.

I was alone and banished from my kin, in an unfamiliar body that failed to respond to my expectations and instead demanded constant attention, mostly of rather unpleasant nature. Before being chained to this flesh I was part of the Song, and could willingly entwine my being with the pulsing bursts of energy and the intricate webs of matter that make this world, a wondrous reality wrought in Time.

Now the laws that governed Arda were veiled from me, at best partially discerned through their imprint on my deadened senses, woefully inadequate to predict their behaviour. From comments heard during the War, I could only compare my experience to that of one of the Children suddenly turned blind, deaf and mute.

Though my mind and memories were intact, I had been robbed of my name; instead I had been tasked with a mission that I feared would prove to be unattainable. Worst of all, I shivered from nausea and retched uncontrollably, day and night. Was being seasick part of the punishment by the Lord of Mandos or his final jest at my expense?

Wallowing in self-pity did not allow for a cheerful disposition. My hosts avoided me as far as they could in the confines of the tiny vessel. By the time my feet stepped onto the shores of Endórë three weeks later I had endured as much sailing as I thought I would ever be able to stomach for the rest of my immortal life.

I did not recognise the small harbour. If we were in the realm of Lindon, this was a lesser town from those I had visited in the past, and the style of the buildings was markedly different. When I asked, the sailors told me that we had arrived at the small haven of Eldalondë, or Edhellond in the local tongue [1].

This settlement, far South from the lands of Gil-galad, had been founded by a group of Sindalië who had fled Beleriand in three small ships after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, when they feared the one they named Morgoth would finally claim absolute ownership over the Hither Lands.

‘This is yours,’ the ship captain said in farewell. A heavy, plain leather bag was thrust into my hands. I was too weary and forlorn to care about its contents and merely nodded. When I finally thought of speaking my gratitude, the man had already joined the rest of his crew, who were unloading crates and barrels onto the pier.

I walked on the soft sand along the beach until I felt I could go no further. Sinking to my knees, for the first time I felt wet, hot tears flowing down my cheeks. Their taste, salty like sea-water, startled me. Soon I was asleep on the reeds above the tide mark. When I woke up, the sea wind blew strong, spraying foam on my face, and Eärendil was rising. I cried out to him in greeting, but my voice was lost in the thunder of the rolling surf crashing on the shore.

I admired the beauty of the light of the Silmaril and berated myself for my temporary loss of faith. A rumble of hunger interrupted my thoughts, and I remembered the pack with my belongings.

The bag contained a hunting knife in a sheath, a piece of flint, a little pouch with a handful of small gold and silver coins, a comb and some spare clothes. Unfortunately there was little food in it. I would have to worry about that matter soon. But in the meantime I unwrapped a wafer of coimas sealed with a wax stamp bearing Eärwen’s device, and drank water from a nearby stream.

Recalling my intention to learn more about my body, I decided this was as good a moment as any. With two ages of the world to find my quarry I could well spend a few days assessing my abilities. I focused on skills that I might need to ensure my survival.

How far and how fast could I run? I decided to find out, and for a long while I revelled in the strength of my hröa, in the warmth of tensing and relaxing its muscles—my muscles—in the rhythm of my race; in the smell of the sea and the music of the waves. I looked at them with yearning. Throwing caution to the wind I ran into the sea until I lost my footing.

I discovered at that point that I did not know how to swim. Fortunately the waves pushed me gently back to shallow waters. After coughing up several mouthfuls of sea water, I whispered my heartfelt thanks to Ossë for saving me from the embarrassment of drowning during my first day in Endórë.

I spent three more days in solitude. I practiced throwing stones, and studied their flight paths in relation to their weights. Soon I progressed to my knife and was pleased when I could consistently hit a leaf at any distance up to thirty paces, though I knew I could do better.

I realised how much my body hindered my efforts. It was impossible to replicate exactly the same movement once and again, or to precisely measure the strength of the forces acting upon the knife or the initial angle of its flight, only to roughly estimate them. The more I tried to analyse my actions, the worse results I achieved, until I began to rely on instinct and practice, with much better results.

I climbed trees; I tested how far and how high I could jump, and how long I could hold my breath; I learnt to walk balanced on my hands and to juggle seven pebbles at once. There was a lot of frustration, but in the end I was satisfied with my modest accomplishments. 

The most enjoyable discovery, however, was an additional purpose for the organ that usually lay limp between my legs. Most amazingly, its shape and size could change considerably if I dedicated it some attention, and the unlikely reward was a most intense wave of physical pleasure when the seed of life was released. Had I been granted the power to sire children? Somehow I doubted it.

I made sure I savoured this boon often, day and night. Most bizarrely, while I was so occupied, my thoughts would drift into strange fancies, the likes of which had never entered my mind in the past. I had to remember to close it to ósanwë every time I engaged in this pastime.

I was grateful to Námo for this unexpected gift; he had certainly not lied about the pleasures that might be drawn from my restrictive shape. At last, I understood the moans and grunts I could often hear in the otherwise silent vigils during the endless years we besieged Moringotto, and some of the ribald jests that had provoked great mirth amongst the warriors but had meant little or nothing to me.

Also, for the first time I began to grasp the reasoning that had led Manwë to instigate the adoption of laws and customs amongst the Eldar concerning the ruling of this powerful carnal instinct, for which we Ainur have no equivalent. I questioned the need to mandate such tight restraints over what certainly gave so much pleasure to the Incarnates. Instead I understood and even commiserated with their numerous transgressions, which their kings judged and reported dutifully to the Valar. 

Busy with such endeavours and reflections, my food ran out, and I had no choice but to make my way back to the haven, where I bought some provisions. I realised I had paid far too much when I found out that a horse was worth eight silver pieces, one more than I had been charged for my small pile of supplies. I would have to be more cautious if my coin were to last until I found Mairon.

I wondered why this remote place had been chosen as my starting point in Endórë, and not for the first time I wished I was back in familiar Lindon. Ships from the West were a rarity here, and foreigners were eyed warily. Far from Beleriand these people had only heard rumours about the War, but they were fully aware of the lies of Melkor and his minions, and remained ever watchful. I resorted to very discreet enquiries, but even these drew too much attention to me and yielded no answer. When someone bluntly asked if I was a spy, I realised I had outlasted my welcome.

Again I travelled southwards along the shore, this time for many days, until I began to veer northwest. I found nobody in my travels who could help me in my search.

One morning I decided to cease my aimless wandering. Instead I sat, watching the waves and the sky, maybe waiting for a sign that would tell me what I should do, where I should go. But there was no longer anyone to guide my steps, to rule my existence. Ironically, I was free from authority, from orders, except for my duty, which I had two long ages to fulfil.

The seagulls barked loudly above, as in mockery, and dived into the foamy water to catch their prey. I looked at them in despair.

‘Oh friends, would you not lend me your wings today so that I can ride the wind again?’ I cried.

A shadow flew overhead. When I looked upwards, I greeted with joy the sight of one of the great eagles: Lintavailë, scion of Thorondor. We had often shared the thrill of gliding atop the cool mountain currents amongst moonlit clouds, above sleeping lands both sides of the Great Sea.

‘I will gladly let you ride with me, friend Eönwë. Maybe you can tell me why I find you in this strange guise, for I did not recognise you at first,’ spoke Lintavailë. After circling me twice he landed on the wet sand a few steps away. I ran to him and laughed with pleasure.

I scratched him behind the head and on the wings, well knowing how he enjoyed such treatment. Then he studied me while I repacked my few possessions into a bundle I could easily carry upon my back.

‘What brought this penance upon you?’ he enquired. ‘Rumours abound regarding your banishment, and those of my kin who nest upon the peaks of the Pelóri even speak of shunning you, but if such command has been issued, it has not reached me.’

I was dismayed at this news, and hoped it was nothing more than the gossip that inevitably surrounds one who sinks into disrepute.

‘I am not free to tell you, but you will surely hear the story of my fall when you return to the heights of Taniquetil.’ I longed for a glimpse of that mighty peak, my home in Arda.

‘Perhaps I will seek an answer. But first I would bear you to where your errand takes you, if this small service would ease your plight. You have ever been kind to me and mine.’

‘Indeed it would! I am most grateful for your generous offer, Lintavailë, but I do not know where I must go...’ I hesitated. I had been commanded not to reveal my purpose, but Lintavailë would hear the whole tale soon enough. Besides, how would I otherwise have any chance of success in my quest? ‘My duty demands that I find Mairon the Maia, the one the Quendi and Atani now name Sauron. Do you or your brethren know where he dwells?’

‘I do not, but I can make enquiries. My kindred, great and small, have eyes in most places in Endórë. How would we recognise him?’

I thought for a while, then shook my head in frustration. ‘I do not know what shape he might have adopted as a disguise. Perhaps you can watch out for someone who might speak in the tongue of the Ainur, or of the Quendi of Aman when they believe nobody would hear them, because I was told exiles often miss the sounds of their homeland. Or he might invoke words of Power to engender terror or wonder, to enslave or to charm.’ I sighed, realising the impossibility of the task. ‘I will never find him.’

‘Let me make enquiries, friend. Wait for me.’ He flapped his mighty wings and took off before I could gainsay him.

I gathered evergreen branches and built a lean-to in a sheltered gap between large boulders, well above the high tide line. Then I waited. After a few days, hunger spurred me to eat raw snails and clams, and I picked all nearby trees bare of any fruits and nuts that seemed ripe enough. Survival demanded that I learnt to swim and to fish, so I did. During my earlier days in Endórë during the War, I had watched how fire was made with flint and a knife; I even knew that the secret was to prepare the right materials to catch the sparks without smothering the flame. Yet it took me half a day to succeed. When I did, all the seagulls on the beach flew away, startled by my wild cry of triumph. The pleasure of tasting cooked fish was worth every blister on my hands.

Once starvation stopped being my main concern, I began to grow anxious about Lintavailë. As days and weeks trickled by without news, I fervently hoped that he had not been banned from returning to my aid. Manwë had not commanded that I be ostracised, but his subjects may have chosen to do so if ignorant of the actual terms of Námo’s doom.

The moon had gone round almost a whole cycle and I was frantic with doubt when Lintavailë came back. I could not hide my relief at his arrival, and my thrill at hearing his news.

‘I am confident we may have discovered your quarry’s whereabouts, my friend. I spread word that I wished to find a man who behaved as you described. Many reports came back, but only half a dozen stood out. Of these, I ruled out all but one, based on the details that I received. The most promising account was relayed from a very remote land. I shall be glad to take you there.’

‘Not as glad as I am for your offer, dear friend. I will forever be in your debt.’

The following day, after Lintavailë had rested from his long journey, we departed again.

He bore me upon his back as we flew over mountains, plains, deserts and forests; over barren hills and golden fields, orchards and lakes. During our flight, it was almost impossible to outshout the rushing wind, and we travelled mostly in silence unless he pointed a landmark of interest to me or asked me if I was tired, or thirsty. When we landed and I slid off from my seat between his wings, my legs crumpled under me, sore and numb.

‘Are you well, lord?’ cried Lintavailë.

‘For once, I am pleased to be on the ground.’ I laughed briefly, without joy. ‘Flying on your back is unlike anything I am used to. Strange, being swept by the wind instead of belonging to it. It feels cold, too.’ I shivered violently.

‘You may yet learn to enjoy it. Do not despair!’ He offered me the warm refuge of his wing.

I nestled gladly against his silky feathers, but I could find no rest. So far I had hesitated to ask him, wary of discovering an awful truth about the one I sought, but there was no point in avoiding the matter any longer.

I sighed. ‘Where does Mairon dwell, Lintavailë?’

‘In a realm called Kiinlúum, the “Land of the Sun”in the tongue of its people [2], that lies almost at the furthest East of the world,’ answered the great eagle as he arranged his feathers for the night. ‘The men in those lands never travelled West or heard of the Valar, and it is my belief that Melkor has not walked amongst them.’

I finally dared speak aloud the question that had been gnawing at me for the last few weeks. ‘What did you learn of him?’

Very little. I had to trust the messages relayed by those of my younger kindreds until I was confident they had tracked down the one I sought. A man who was heard using the endearment brîniðil, and cursing the mâchanumâz, in particular Lord Aulë, when a spark burnt his hand.’ From Lintavailë’s loud chirp I was unsure whether he was shocked or amused. ‘I could hardly walk into the town and enquire as to his exact whereabouts and activities, could I? Unless, of course, I wished him to vanish into thin air if he suspected someone was spying on him.’[3][4]

I shifted nervously against his body.

‘Do not fret. He has not become a dreadful lord of werewolves, or a commander of dark armies. Beyond that, I only know the name he has adopted.’

‘What is it?’ I asked eagerly, now that my worst fears had been allayed.

‘Yúum Síihbalóob.’ He spoke the alien syllables carefully, and I repeated them, intrigued. ‘I do not know its meaning.’

We fell silent. He knew I did not sleep because I kept moving restlessly.

‘What will you ask from him, Eönwë?’ he whispered, as though not to disturb the quiet of the night.

‘Something I fear he is not willing to give.’

I recalled our earliest times in Eä, before Mairon was drawn to Melkor, when we explored the new worlds together, merged in a single burst of playful light, watching Varda kindle the stars. He began to attend Aulë’s forges, where he was introduced to the mysteries of taming the forces and shaping the particles that made up Arda. After his first lesson, he came to see me, excited and happy, and gave me a gleaming object.

‘What is this?’ I was thrilled at his gift. He had always been generous, keen to share the wonders he discovered.

‘My first tangible creation, made of a matter Aulë has named ibri.’ I studied it from every angle, while he smugly watched my puzzlement grow. [5]

‘What is it?’ I asked, finally defeated.

‘A flute. You can command the breeze to make music with it.’ He laughed. ‘I would not know how, but theory says it should work. Try it!’

Try I did, and the sweet, wavering sound that rose from it kept me enthralled ever since. 

Now, I tasted again the sorrow of having stood by in idleness while he was seduced and I was robbed of his affection.  With hindsight, my warnings to Mairon had lacked weight, and I had dismissed too easily my growing misgivings, as resentment against his incipient arrogance, or as jealousy against He Who Arises in Might.

‘You cannot understand.’ Mairon impatiently waved aside the doubts I had voiced about his decision to become Melkor’s disciple. ‘Melkor has already shown me beauty beyond anything you have ever seen, pleasures unlike any I have sampled before, and glimpses of knowledge that not even Manwë possesses. At his side, I will master what Aulë deems too advanced for us Maiar to comprehend. Why would I waste my time at the forge, or toying with pretty sparks in your company when there is so much to be learnt?’

I should have threatened, pleaded; but I was hurt by his disdain and occupied with my own endeavours. Too busy to notice the trap that was inexorably closing around him.

During the journey, these memories haunted me often. More than once I found myself blinking away tears while staring at the diamond studded sky, or at the silver sheen of Isil. If Lintavailë ever noticed my distress he never asked anything, and I was grateful for his discretion. Otherwise, I would have shrunk with embarrassment, unable to explain the unfamiliar blend of emotions that sometimes overwhelmed me when my hröa grew weary.

 

 

Notes:

[1] In “History of Galadriel and Celeborn” (Unfinished Tales) there are two versions of the founding of Edhellond. One attributes it to seafaring Sindar who fled Beleriand in three small ships at the height of Morgoth’s power – possibly after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. A second version makes the establishment of Edhellond later by a group of Sindar, a remnant of the people of Doriath who went South in the beginning of the Second Age. I am settling for the first option to ensure that Edhellond is there at the time Eönwë’s banishment begins. 

[2] All the local names and terms used in this imaginary realm of Kiinlúum are based, more or less loosely, on translations from Yucatec Mayan vocabulary. In some cases I have sacrificed apostrophes used in the correct spelling of words for phonetic purposes, just to make them a bit less awkward to the reader's eye, but this is likely to have altered their original meaning, so please don't take these words as true translations, only as inspiration.

[3] ibrîniðil (Valarin) silver flower.

[4] Mâchanumâz (Valarin) the Authorities or Powers, that is, the Valar.

[5] ibri (Valarin) Silver. The etymology of this word is not explicitly provided by Tolkien, but tentatively isolated from Ibrîniðilpathânezel, the Valarin name of Telperion mentioned in The War of the Jewels (The History of Middle-earth XI).

 

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Chapter End Notes

For those of you who have read my story Kinslayer, also posted here in SWG, now you know where the plot-bunny came from!