Chasing Mirages by Russandol

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Captivity

Eönwë travels to Ithilien, before paying another visit to the Moritarnon.

 

This chapter fits the following B2MeM 2012 prompts:

Controversial Topics - O72: Do Balrogs have wings?
Powers and Underpowers - B15: Námo (Mandos): fear of the dead/ghost

 

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37. Captivity

 

Valinor, Year 64 of the Fourth Age of Arda

Upon a southern peak of the Pélori, another sunrise lit the slopes beneath my lair, turning snow into a dazzling mantle of diamonds. Another day of idleness, as I had no duties to perform. Elrond rarely called on me, now that his life in Valinor was far simpler than ruling a realm besieged by darkness.

I blew on the blanket of snow and made a few whirlpools, challenging myself to weave a dozen currents into a complex knot pattern without letting the flakes stray. I had to focus completely on the task, barring idle thoughts. I did not wish to think.

‘Eönwë!’ Mairon’s mind, like weak fingers, tapped on mine. ‘Eönwë!’ Clearer this time. Shock made my snow construct crumble into a heap. ‘I would speak with you. Will you come?’

My thrill at his call was crushed by the bleakness of reality. Wisdom counselled me to ignore his call. And yet, once I made him a promise...

Angry, I whipped the snow into a harmless blizzard, as there was no living being near my hiding place. No one sought an outcast of the Valar. Only another outcast, fallen even lower.

‘Olórin, my friend. The time has come!’ I cried to him alone.

His answer was immediate. ‘I shall listen. Be wary!’

Even before the sun touched the roofs of Tirion, I knocked on Elrond’s door. He received me with his hair tied back in a long plait, yawning.

‘These are not civil hours for a social visit, so I assume something urgent brings you here to disrupt my sleep and Celebrían’s,’ he grumbled, but his smile was fond.

‘I must request your leave,’ I said, looking him straight in the eye. ‘To go to Endórë. I may not return.’

‘So Sauron wishes to see you at last. What will you do? And if the Valar find out, will you...’ Dismayed, he broke off.

‘A very long time ago, before I came to Lindon, I vowed to save him from joining Moringotto in the Void. If I can glimpse a spark of repentance, however faint, I shall keep my promise.’

‘You also swore to fight my enemies.’ His voice had an edge.

‘Then I shall be forsworn. To one of you.’

Unexpectedly, Elrond flung himself into my arms. I ached for a hröa to feel his warmth, and to return his embrace properly.

‘Oh, Erestor!’ He sobbed onto my shoulder.

When he raised his head, his eyes were brimming and mine would have been, had I been truly incarnate. Elrond released me, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.

’Is he worth risking the wrath of the Aratar?’

‘I am not sure, Elrond, but I wish to believe so. I must.’

‘Then you have my leave. How will I know of your fate?’ he asked anxiously.

‘I have asked Olórin to come to you as soon as he hears news.’ He nodded. ‘Give Glorfindel my farewells. As much as I would like to see him, he would try to stop me if I came to him now.’ I laughed. ‘And he might succeed; I have no wings like a Balrog.‘

I was glad to see a brief smile lighten Elrond’s concerned face.

‘Go, Eönwë. May Ilúvatar ever guard you,’ he murmured.

‘And may he bless you and yours, Elrond.’

I leant forward to kiss his brow. Memories of friendship and trust twinned with the fear already roiling within me strove to tempt me away from my purpose, which was bound to be ill-fated.

I forced myself to leave, vanishing before Elrond’s eyes, and flew down the Straight Road to Endórë. Several times I backtracked, but I did not detect anyone following. Mairon’s call guided me like a beacon to an unlikely location, southeast from Minas Tirith, where the beech forests of Ithilien began to climb the dark slopes of the Ephel Dúath. 

Though I was not expecting a trap, on arrival I approached him with caution, swirling slowly around tree trunks and boulders in the general direction of his presence. I found him at last, a pitiful dull cloud, so shrunken as to be almost imperceptible. I fought to hide my horror at what he had become.

‘You came.’ Incredulity, relief, shame and a keen edge of resentment were blended in the pulse of thought that reached out to me.

‘You called,’ I answered, offering neither warmth nor coldness. I would not make it easy for him.

He swayed nervously, like a patch of shadowed mist blown by the breeze, obscuring the landscape in front of me.

‘Once long ago, I had you raped. Boldly, you said that you pitied me,’ came his thought. He paused, hesitant, and opened a tiny corner of his mind to pour out his memories. Mesmerised, I witnessed my bloody, limp hröa being dumped at his feet and heard my own voice. One day you will regret the path you have taken and long for what is now lost to us, as I already rue my own choices. ‘Those words cast a spell the very moment you spoke them, Eönwë, clamping unease onto my mind ever since.’

‘That day was about an Age and a half ago,’ I retorted. ‘Many have suffered since...  because of you.’

‘I wished to prove you wrong. It seems I have failed.’

‘Why should I help you now?’

‘Because I am utterly broken,’ he snarled. Then he whispered, haltingly. ‘I clung so hard to my dream of order and beauty that it crumbled to dust in my hands. I regret... the loss and the destruction. The... pain.’ Had Mairon been speaking aloud, I am certain he would have stammered. ‘Also... I cast away the one other treasure that I was offered, and crushed it under my heel. I have earned your loathing in perpetuity, and yet once you used to... love me.’

I was struck dumb by fury. How dared he?

‘You think that by feigning humility and dangling that word in front of me I will consent to anything you ask?’ I thundered, and was startled that he shrank further. ‘I have learnt to mistrust the honey around your words, Mairon. What do you truly want from me?’

His weakness and my wrath dimmed our senses. I felt the mob of Maiar surrounding us only an instant before Mairon did, too late to warn him or escape. Bolts of power burst from everywhere and invisible walls were raised to contain Mairon who, once captured, knew the futility of attempting to force his way out. Instead, he kept swirling like a wild beast pacing in circles within the bars of its cage, until he was further restrained by tight bands of energy. Six of the Maiar stood guard to prevent his flight. Strangely, I was not bound, only watched warily by two others.

To my utter dismay, Námo appeared in our midst, clad in his fana. I adopted mine, out of ingrained courtesy before the Valar.

‘You have my gratitude, Eönwë,’ he sneered. ‘I can hardly recognise in you the indignant lover who swore eternal loyalty to this wretch.’

He placed a hand on my shoulder and smiled. My whole being screamed in outrage at his insincerity, meant solely to torment Mairon with the appearance of yet another betrayal. Alarmed, I realised this needling must be a trial, Námo’s attempt to expose my true feelings. If pretence was the game, I could play too.

‘My lord.’ I gave a deep bow and nearly faltered under the deluge of obscenities that came from Mairon directly into my mind, until I blocked him out. ‘I will be glad to witness the completion of the task you appointed to me when he appears at the Máhanaxar at last.’

Námo seemed disappointed.

‘There is no need to dally, Eönwë. By the will of Manwë I shall merely ratify his doom.’ He signalled his servants to depart. ‘To the Moritarnon!’

As his raiment dissolved before me, I froze in pure panic. Námo’s gleeful haste would rob me of the chance to plead before Manwë for a measure of leniency for Mairon. Entering the Void was irreversible until Eä was unmade.

No one stopped me from joining the prisoner and his guards as they travelled at great speed back to Aman and onwards to the Utmost West. Námo ignored me completely; Mairon’s mind did not touch mine, but I sensed the flickering aura of his terror, and the waves of despair he radiated pierced me like knives, along with my own, very familiar guilt.

Frantically, I racked my mind. Begging Vefántur would not avail me, I was certain. Staging Mairon’s escape was not feasible. I could not leave him, and yet, a fear colder than the space between the stars coursed through me at the thought of walking into the Void at his side.

Was there nothing I could do?

The dragons carved on the jambs of the Moritarnon stared at me mockingly. With a deep rumble, the doors opened at Námo’s command, and the blackness beyond seemed to seep outwards, as though reaching for its prey.

Powerless and desperate, I watched the Maiar place Mairon a short distance away from the dreadful gateway, awaiting their master’s final order. The prisoner squirmed, uncomfortable within the restraints which encroached deeply into his weakened presence. Any merging of foreign energy with one’s own was painful, except... My thoughts were interrupted when Námo spoke.

‘Sauron Ñorthus, hear your doom! You walked behind your master Moringotto on the same ruinous path, spreading evil and inflicting corruption, thraldom, torment and death upon the free peoples of Endórë. Thus it is fitting that you should be cast out from Arda and reunited with him in the Everlasting Darkness, never to return until the end of Time.’

No! This could not be happening! 

‘What have you to say before this doom falls upon you, Sauron?’ asked the Lord of Mandos. ‘Beware! It is far too late for faking repentance and begging mercy.’

Defiance flared from Mairon like a bright flame, overriding the red hue of fear. ‘You shall not have the pleasure of hearing me beg, Vefántur. You and your kindred wronged me and many others. You name me evil, but were you not Manwë’s lackey, protected by your lord’s dubious righteousness, you would deserve the same doom you now condemn me to.’

Wrath was pulsing within Mairon, making him oblivious to pain.

‘As for your servant...’ He wavered, before I felt the gentle touch of his mind on mine. ‘I would have once built my dream with you, Eönwë, had you not been wrenched away by your unworthy masters. Trusting you was indeed my weakness, the trigger of my ruin. It pains me to see you again as the obedient cur of those I despise.’

He paused, unsure. His next words were for me alone, both a caress and a farewell. ‘I will rather remember you as the only one I ever lo-...’

I roared to smother the words he had refused to speak in the past and were too painful to bear now. I rushed to wrap myself around his cloud of dim light, like holding a glow worm between curled fingers. He was weak, pitifully weak. I could crush him with a single burst of my power. Almost above us, the dragons stared menacingly, jaws agape, waiting to devour their offering. Both of us together.

Hope leapt within me when I realised what I must do.

‘You betrayed me, toyed with me, abandoned me!’ I cried, noticing the approaching Maiar and perceiving Námo’s suspicion as he cast tendrils of ósanwë to probe my intent. ‘Yield now, Sauron!’

Lashing at Mairon viciously, a mighty crackling of sparks burst out in the wake of the violent clash of our charges. I cringed at the waves of agony that emanated from his mind. But outwardly, I glowed with seeming joy and satisfied revenge, for all around us to sense.

Mairon’s amusement, masked in pain, surprised me.

‘What a treat, my good Herald, to awaken in you this streak of cruelty as my final act of evil!’ His sarcasm was bitter with disappointment. ‘Is it not a heady pleasure, the thrill of tormenting your hated foe moments before his final demise?’

I froze in horror and eased my pressure a little. He huddled, even smaller, and I closed myself more tightly over him, sensing Námo’s satisfied approval.

‘I will not beg, if that is what you wish,’ said Mairon. His beautiful mind flickered in defiance within my encroaching embrace.

‘Yield, Rušurigas!’ I cried, to him alone. ‘Not to them. To me. I will keep you safe.’

I pressed harder, insistently, and at last he understood.

As his consciousness, his whole being, opened to me in full, I sensed uncertain gratitude and relief from pain, soothing as a balm. Immediately I relented too, letting him flow within me.

Mairon and I merged, as those of our kindred do in rare intimacy, because such joining demands complete surrender to overcome the resistance of our otherwise colliding streams of energy. We had often done it in the innocence of our youthful friendship during the infancy of Eä, before Melkor lured Mairon away. Together we had swum through the plasma at the core of stars, seeking thrill and beauty in perfect companionship.

Wrathful at being outsmarted, Námo struck. Bolts of white-hot power scourged me, hurting like nothing I had felt before, but pain was a price I was most willing to pay for a chance to save Mairon. When the attack stopped at last, I knew I was the victor. 

‘Release him, Eönwë,’ commanded the Lord of Mandos darkly. ‘What you have done, forcing yourself upon him in his weakness, is an abomination.’

Still smarting, I said, ‘Later, perhaps. For now, my lord, if you wish to carry out your pretence of justice, you must cast me out with him. Otherwise, take us to Manwë.’

 

~ o ~

 

Imprisonment did not suit Mairon. He swung from outbursts of fury to heartfelt gratitude then to melancholy introspection and even suspicion about my reasons for saving him. I bore it all, still basking in the euphoria of my unexpected victory.

I shifted up and down the spectrum, thinning and expanding within the boundaries of our featureless prison, then contracting without finding ease.

‘Am I still making you uncomfortable?’ asked Mairon for the twelfth time at least.

‘Yes, you are,’ I growled. ‘Merging in motion is pleasant. Crammed in this hole and having to wrap myself around you feels like having swallowed a bucketful of large pebbles that rumble inside with every move I make. Or like...’ I laughed.

‘Like what?’

‘Like being impaled by one of those dreadful objects you used to torment me with, ever denying me relief,’ I answered, longing for my hröa once again.

His brief amusement tingled inside my mind before his mood sobered again.

‘I should feel guilty, perhaps. Or resentful,’ he said. ‘I have loathed you for your part in my defeats. At Orodruin you left me with nothing but rock, weakness, and far too much time to dwell on all my failures and losses. But after having seen the Darkness, Eönwë, I am afraid of facing it again. You should have let me go, instead of drawing out this misery.’ A tremor shook us both, an echo of his fear.

‘Misery, Mairon? Is it such a torture to be locked with me in a narrow, dark cell in Mandos for a few hours, a couple of days at most?’

‘How can you know?’ he asked, fretful. ‘I cannot feel the flow of Time in here; there are no signs of life, no references, just blank emptiness. I doubt the Void can be much more chilling.’ I sensed him squirm.

‘I am only guessing about what is happening. I have allies. Olórin knows I found you because when I spoke to Námo in Ithilien and then at the Moritarnon, I addressed him too. Our Doomsman cannot pretend that we accidentally fell into the Void or flew together to the furthest corner of Ilmen. Elrond, the lordling whom you ever resented, will demand my release. He is stubborn and has already opposed Manwë over me once. Understandably, and given our current... attachment, it seems rather unlikely that the Elder King will grant it, but a trial or at least a hearing is inevitable. We just have to be patient.’

‘You had planned all of this?’ Amazement poured off him.

‘Not well enough, it seems. I never thought Námo would just bundle you away to the Moritarnon. I had no choice but to force myself upon you. I am sorry.’

‘Do not be,’ he said softly. ‘Yielding to you was... a humbling experience, yes, a knock to my battered pride, but not demeaning, unlike what I did to you in Eregion. Indeed, that is the one deed I have regretted every day.’

‘Only that one, Mairon?’ I cried. ‘Can you imagine the anguish of watching Elrond’s beloved fade away after she was raped, poisoned and ruined by the claws and teeth of your minions? Have you forgotten your Ost-in-Edhil prisoners, whom you had tormented before my eyes, Sauron? And the thousands of others tortured or slain as you pursued your madness?’ Images of the horrors I had witnessed flashed through my mind and, now that we were merged, also in his. ‘I begged you to make me into whatever you wished me to be, if only you abandoned your ambitions and your war. However twisted your demands, I would have been… content, maybe even happy at your side. It was not the torment or the humiliation that nearly drove me mad, but the realisation of the monster you had become, of what we had lost.’

I sensed him retreat as far as he could within his confinement, finding no refuge or relief from the overwhelming cloud of guilt, pain and shame that we were building and suffering together. I was no longer able to completely isolate his emotions from mine, but I quailed at the blackness of the despair he revealed.

Silence hung heavily between us for a long while. We stayed out of each other’s thoughts, wading separately through the dark haze of pain and fear that both bound us together and kept us apart, more choking than the walls of our prison.

‘I am indeed fortunate,’ spoke Mairon at last. ‘You repay the cruelty I dealt to you and others dear to you by willingly shackling yourself to me, even though I am dragging you down in my fall. I am grateful.’

I sensed his sincerity. Lies between us were difficult in our forced intimacy. Perhaps for that reason he had not attempted to justify his deeds, or to speak empty words of contrition. But if he was unrepentant...

‘Why did you call me, Mairon? Why now?’

He fretted, uncomfortable. ‘I wondered if... I wanted to know whether you would...’

‘You wished to find out if I would fawn over you again, ever the love-struck fool. Did you not?’ I lashed out. ‘When you had no one else to turn to, or to hurt, only then you remembered me!’

‘No, that is not true. Thoughts of you often consumed my mind, and I hated myself for such weakness.’ He squirmed again. ‘I am tired, Eönwë, tired and sick of failure and loneliness. No doubt I deserve far worse, but... if you leave me, I have no one.’

‘Leaving you seems rather unlikely right now.’ I laughed, absurdly pleased at his confession. ‘I am a prisoner, too. Not the Valar’s obedient cur, as you named me.’

‘I believed you had betrayed me... I should have known better. But when you made obeisance....’ His thought came in uncertain bursts. ‘What will happen to you?’

‘Námo may accuse me of treason,’ I said. ‘We could yet be pushed out through the Moritarnon together, but it is far more likely that the Valar keep me in Mandos, at least while they decide what to do. You are as safe as I am, as long as we remain merged. I wonder if they will just wait and let us drive each other crazy.’

‘What if... if you were to release me and spare yourself? I am too weak to escape from our bond, so you are effectively as much my gaoler as Vefántur.’

‘I am touched by your appreciation,’ I replied, ‘but were we to part now, Námo’s minions would grab you faster than thought. Even if we were granted more freedom and you were pardoned from the Void, I would not let you out of my sight any time soon. You are too devious and dangerous on your own, Mairon.’

He swirled, uneasily.

‘I once pledged to stay at your side,’ I said. ‘I also vowed to free you from Melkor. My fate or my choices, whichever I am given, are linked to yours from now on. That is my promise. But if you believe I am again an easy prey to seduce and sway to your purposes, you are mistaken.’

‘What do you wish me to do in return?’ he asked, ever wary and calculating. And yet I sensed a small measure of hope within him.

‘I cannot afford to fight foes on two fronts, Mairon. Before the Valar, you must answer to me and do my bidding. Otherwise, however little influence I may have will be insufficient to save you from the Void.’

He considered these words for a while. ‘Melkor lured me with the promise of freedom, amongst other things, only to enthrall me. You are asking me to trust you and submit my will to yours, or to stand alone. It is indeed a hard choice, Eönwë.’

Again he dived back into restless introspection. I was glad of his struggle. A quick answer would have made me doubt his commitment.

At last he said, ‘You are willing to risk your own fate for mine, and so, I should trust you. I accept your terms. You have my word, for what it is worth.’ Now he was subdued, verging on gloominess.

‘Chin up, Mairon,’ I said cheerfully. ‘Surely I am no worse than Vefántur or Moringotto as a gaoler. Or than you were.’

His piercing surge of remorse made me cease my teasing.

‘If only we could turn back Time and start anew,’ he said wistfully. ‘But indeed the laws of Eä ban us from treading again on paths we have already walked.’

My memory wandered far into the past in a distant land, to words Mairon had once spoken. Something important seemed to elude me. Annoyed, I turned my attention back to him.

‘You have evaded my question, Mairon. Why did you wish to speak to me?’

He hesitated, radiating embarrassment tinged with guilt.

‘One day I shall tell you the whole story. For now, just know that when at last I freed myself from the furnace of Orodruin, I fled over the Ephel Dúath and did what I have done best in the past.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘I set my snares. I was too weak to shape a hröa, but I could still influence the minds of others. I searched for a means of regaining my power, or at least part of it, by harnessing captive fëar. My first experiments with Gondorian men yielded poor results.  Once detached from their hröar, their fëar were keen to depart, and therefore harder to control. So, I focused my endeavours on the Quendi who had settled in the despoiled forests of Ithilien.’

I forced myself to remain calm despite my revulsion at this abomination, narrated in such a cold, factual way.

‘What do you mean, Mairon?’

‘Only that the Quendi are bound to Arda, and those still living in Endórë do so because they love those lands, and linger even when their hröar are slain, refusing the call of Mandos. The Atani, however, rush to their unknown fate, whether they feared it in life or not.’

That mysterious difference had always intrigued us Ainur, but this was hardly the time for analysing the designs of Eru.

‘What happened?’ I asked.

‘One prisoner, he was... his defiance, his words reminded me of you while... in Eregion, as though that day when... when I crushed your emerald was being replayed before me. As his life hung in my power, while my servant waited on my signal to swing his blade, I saw with the utmost clarity that his death and a thousand more could not buy what I desired. In his eyes, wild from the torment I had ordered to weaken him, I saw you again, boldly telling me I would regret my choices, and pine for what I had lost. There and then, I did.’ He paused, perhaps expecting my gloating, but I was too stunned to think of a reply. ‘I let all the captives go before I called you,’ he added.

Hope flared within me at the sliver of remorse he had revealed, then it waned. Mairon would never speak his confession before others, not even to save himself from the Moritarnon. Even if he did, a few spared lives would make too minute a dent in the overall tally; worse still, there would be outrage when the purpose for Mairon’s victims became clear. I was appalled myself. To capture fëar, instead of letting them fly...

The answer I had pursued leaped bright and clear into my thoughts, as an echo whispered from long ago.

‘Wherever it is they go, at times I wish we could follow them,’ Mairon had said about the Atani after Nikteháa’s death. Wherever it is they go, they leave Arda but not into the Void.

What if others not of their kind were allowed through that threshold?

For hours I pondered my idea, piecing together bits from deeply buried memories. Finally, I explained it to Mairon.

‘Are you addled?’ he cried. ‘For all we know it may be another portal into the Everlasting Darkness instead of the embrace of Eru the pious yearn for! Or do you truly believe those tales we used to spin about infinite variations of his Music by others of our kindred? About an endless chain of altered versions of this Eä?’

‘Who knows? But it may be your only chance to cheat the Void. Others have been granted mercy, and exile, maybe through that very route...’

Mairon’s scepticism shifted into curiosity. ‘Others?’ he asked.

‘Long before the Quendi awoke,’ I began, ‘Manwë was often outraged by his kinsman Makar and by Méassë, Makar’s fierce sister. Their lust for blood and violence often stirred trouble during our early times in Aman.’

‘I remember them well,’ said Mairon. ‘They were amongst the most enthusiastic followers of Melkor’s themes in the Music.’

‘And they kept stirring trouble even in Valinor, promoting fights between the Maiar that sometimes escalated into near battles and ferocious rivalry outside their halls. Manwë finally lost his patience and banished them.’

Mairon laughed. ‘I wager they were glad to leave behind the boredom of Aman.’

‘Indeed. We all assumed they settled somewhere in Endórë, but no one has seen them again. Now I wonder...’

‘Arda is vast,’ argued Mairon. ‘There must be a simpler explanation for their disappearance.’

‘Maybe. And yet, there is something else. I once overheard Varda speaking to Námo, before the coming of the Children. The Star-kindler said, “No, not even I can map those paths. I told Meassë all I knew and I dearly hope it was enough. But the Gift will guide the Atani.” What paths would she speak of, but paths of dark and light, Mairon, uncounted paths that pierce the fabric of Eä, fold Arda upon herself and lead... Eru alone knows!’

For a while my fellow prisoner fell silent, fretting. Soon, his anxiety burst out in a flurry of superimposed thoughts and doubts. ‘To the Atani this journey is presented as a Gift, but who would accept a boon that strips you of all you’ve ever had, and maybe of your own self? Do you believe they are born anew, again and again until the end of Time, as some have hinted? What would be our fate, Eönwë, were we allowed to pass that door?’ He wavered. ‘And if it is Eru who awaits...’ He faltered.

Much later Mairon said, almost wistfully: ‘The Valar will never allow it, Eönwë.’

‘They may not. First you must pay for your crimes.’

 

 

 

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Notes:

 

[1] Rušurigas (Valarin-based, from the words meaning "fire" and "heat") an old nickname originally given to Mairon by Aulë, which Eönwë now uses again in their intimacy

[2] Makar and Méassë were two Valar, the god of War and his sister, included in earlier versions of Tolkien’s mythology but removed in later revisions. (“The Book of Lost Tales”, History of Middle-earth I)