The Watchers. by hennethgalad

Chapter 1

Read Chapter 1

 

   

    I am Inlassë, great-neice of Ingwë of the Vanyar, and it was my part to smooth the path to Taniquetil on Begetting Day. Not with hand or tool, but by perceiving the thought of the young elves approaching marriageable age, as they set forth on the great climb to stand before the face of Manwë and of mighty Varda.
  There was little to do. All know when the time will be, naturally, and are guided by loved ones to prepare their thought, and order their passion. And I, and my associates, stood at the side of Eonwë and from time to time, once, perhaps, in ten long years, an elf would be pointed out to Eonwë... 
   Eonwë himself, of course, was clearly aware of any elf with turmoil in their heart, but it was felt fitting that we elves judge each other in this, and my associates, my dear friends indeed!, and I were all in agreement that Curufinwë Atarinkë was in turmoil.

  It fell to me to examine his thought, and to my sadness, but not my surprise, the strife between his father and his uncle had disordered his harmony. (I have no gift for the use of words, living so much as I do in the realm of thought, which words scarcely hint at, so I apologise for using such a coarse word as harmony.)

   I questioned Curufinwë, therefore, in thought, and he opened his spirit, and there I perceived his meeting with his uncle, at the Begetting Day of Finwë. 
  The two of them had found their thought to be in far closer harmony than either had imagined possible, and laughed often, finishing sentences for each other. 
   How, wondered Curufinwë, how could it be possible that his father should not also like and admire the marvellous Ñolofinwë?

  Of course, there is no resolution to such a problem, certainly not by me! But we watchers are skilled in such matters; we know songs to diminish a perception to the weight of a feather, songs to show the aggrieved that the burden is not theirs, and songs to turn the eyes of thought up to the stars, rising above all daily strife and into the light of Elbereth.

  Thus we sang for him, but ever his eyes rested on mine, and when at last his spirit shone like a fallen star, and we deemed him befitting, he stood, still smiling at me.
   "When I return from Taniquetil, I would dance with you Malina. Will you dance with me, and let me hear your sweet voice once more?"
   My friends were gasping at his presumption, and I at how he had named me 'yellow'! But the light was in his eyes, and his open heart sang to mine as innocently as the hearts of the Unborn at Cuiviénen. Our hearts, you might say, had already met.
  But as I formed words with which to reply, it came to me that this hesitation was more than my usual struggle with words, this hesitation was a deep reluctance to turn my eyes from his, and my spirit from his heart.

  We married within the year. He called me Malina until he left on that deranged quest...

   Much of my spirit fell with his, at the foot of the mountain. I am still there, watching the unconsuming fire burn in cold grey eyes.

 

   But when Tilion rose, and we were reassured that the land itself had not been destroyed, I went to Nerdanel, who, though she should be counted as a mother to me, feels yet closer to a sister ( I have only brothers) in whom I may confide.
   Of course my grief is as nothing to her own; where I have lost one son, she has lost seven... But still, we understand each other.
   But Nerdanel was in turmoil, having had a dark vision. Skilled as I am in the perception of such visions, she shared her thought with me, and this is what I saw.

   Beneath the silver light of Tilion, sheer black cliffs upheld mighty mountains, vanishing into the shadows on either hand. Between the feet of the mountains and the shimmering black sea an elven host gathered about fires, in posture of mourning. No sound came from that multitude, yet musicians toiled in tears, and mouths moved in song. I understood that they grieved for those lost on the voyage, and as is the way at times with such visions, I found myself able to soar across the face of the throng as a great bird, turning my eyes from banner to standard, seeking my Curu, seeking any of the brethren, or even Fëanor... 

  Nerdanel proposed that we journey to the Halls of Nienna, to beg for tidings of our lost ones. And if there were no tidings, to beg only for the strength to endure the long grief.

 

   No words of mine can prepare an elf for the immensity of the Halls of Nienna. The painting at Mindon Eldaliéva cannot convey the awe, and the sense that an elf is infinitesimal who stands before those towering gates, for the power that is felt comes not from the house, but from She who dwells therein, kindly Nienna.

 Inside the gate an elf in grey, shrouded in a deep hood, stepped forth from a group in similar garb.
   "Welcome travellers, to the Halls of Nienna."
   We were led to comfort, food and wine, and we sang, at first in praise of Nienna, then of all Arda, and at last in praise of those we loved, or food, or love stories we liked. The wine was finer than any I ever tasted, before or since, and I am of the House of Ingwë, masters of the garden!
   So we revelled, and the elves drifted away unnoticed, until only we two remained, with the one who had welcomed us, who had named neither herself nor any other. 
   But the wine had not dulled my wits, my watchful spirit felt within the stranger a locked room within which somewhat, whether elf or otherwise, brooded in mighty silence. My song faltered, and Nerdanel fell silent, turning her eyes to mine. But I knew only doubt. At last I spoke.

   "What is it within you, lady, that you will not share with me?"
   The elf sighed, then rose and beckoned, and we followed.

   Another set of towering gates opened onto a seemingly endless stair, rising above the lanterns into shadow. I felt the hesitation of Nerdanel, both of the shadow, and of the tidings that might await her there. I too...

   The elf alone carried light, a silver lantern that scarce showed the stairs beneath our feet, but they were smooth and even, and we did not falter. But I strained my eyes to see beyond the pool of light, for there were banners, paintings and other marks upon the walls, and I yearned to see more, or aught! of what they showed. But on we were led, up and up, until at last the elf paused and raised her lantern, and there on white alabaster in letters of black gemstone was graven the terrible Doom uttered by Eonwë to the host of the husband of Nerdanel. And Nerdanel crumpled, weeping, her hands covered her face, her deep-red hair covered both, and she trembled as she wept.
   But I thought of the dream, or vision, of Nerdanel and of the steep echoing cliffs, and the lamentation of the host, or what remained of it, and I thought of the subtlety of the Valar, and wondered if it were a dark jest 'the echo of your lamentation'...
   Rage filled me, rage that these mighty beings should mock us at our weakest, and I turned to the elf with the lantern "Do they laugh, then, the Valar? Do they mock and sneer?"
   The elf sighed and laid a tender hand upon the head of Nerdanel, who drew a great shuddering breath, then rose to follow as we climbed onwards up the dark stair.

   The air seemed to change, the sound, both the sound heard by the ears, and the echoes of distant spirits of the other elves, and far away the great roar of the cities, fell away behind us, as we drew towards a great silence, a silence so powerful it seemed to cast itself in all directions, as sound is cast, until our own quiet footsteps and soft breathing were dulled into silence. I was afraid then, that I myself was disappearing, and I held my hand before my eyes to be certain that I had not. 

   But the stairs ended before the third gates, which swung inwards. The elf, tiny between them, strode forward with her lantern held high, and we followed, if only to remain in the light. And at length there came a wall, and more stairs, which led up to a vast window looking out only onto blackness. The elf climbed the stairs and stood at the top facing the window.

   "I am Nienna." said the elf "Not the whole of Nienna, but a part, a part that you may question." My astonishment at the breaking of the silence was short-lived.
   "What, where is the rest of you?" I blurted out. Curu has been a bad influence...
   But the elf gestured around herself "I am in the walls and the stairs, the gate and the garden, and I hold open the Window."
   She turned then, and Nerdanel took my hand, and I was glad, for beyond the window, dark and silent, was The Void.

   I opened my spirit then, not to the Void but to Nienna, and shared with her my anguish and grief, and Her pity comforted me, and eased my heart. But Nerdanel spoke at last "My Lady Nienna, gentle Vala, was my vision a true one? Are they perished, my Fëanaro, and all my darling boys? Does this mean that even now they await their return in the Halls of your mighty brother? Shall I see them soon?"
   I marvelled at the long sight of Nerdanel, looking to the future with hope, but I myself felt no such comfort.
   Nienna shook her head slowly "What must be must be. Do not bring false hope to my Halls' she gestured to the Window in silence "But watch here, and you shall see that the Valar are not without mercy."

   There was no measuring time in that silence. The lantern of Nienna burned bravely, undimmed and untiring, and I knew it to be no elven craft. We stood, hand in hand, Nerdanel and I, lost children on an unknown shore, but even as we waited, our turmoil was stilled, and we accepted the grief that had torn through all elvendom, far worse than the Great Divide the old ones sing of, when the Avari left us. 

   And so we found our strength, partly within our own hearts, and partly within each other; for the comfort of sharing a burden brings courage to the hurt. And I sighed, and knew that I could endure.

   But the tears of Nienna began to sparkle, the emptiness of the Void was shot with light, a great fan of light that filled the Window and shut out the darkness; and a sound grew, from a whisper to a rumble, to a roar that made the mighty walls tremble, and before our astonished eyes rose Anar.