Artíre's Choice by WendWriter

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Chapter 1

Artíre was an observer by nature. He was a Maia, and although he was a powerful entity, he was more suited to spying and reporting than to building or the domination of others. He loved the drama of conflict and destruction; it excited him like nothing else, stimulated him to the core of his being, but he was not a fool. He was aware of the likely consequences of rebellion against Ilúvatar the Creator and the Valar, so he preferred to watch the others from a distance rather than taking part. It was this trait that first brought him to the attention of Manwë, chief of the Valar. As Artíre surveyed the changes wrought on Middle Earth by the destruction of the Two Lamps that had been made to light the world ere the Sun and Moon were created, he remembered how he had first come into Manwë's service.

 

He had finished his role in the Song, and was standing to one side. Melkor the evil one had gone out into the Void, seeking the Flame Imperishable so he could use it to create things according to his own will, and Artíre was reluctant to follow him, mostly because he could see nothing of interest there. 

Artíre considered Melkor's actions, and asked himself if he would so desire a world to rule and to shape according to his own desires, or if he would prefer to simply take a world that was already there, and change it to be more to his liking. Unlike Melkor, however, the idea of having power and rule over other wills was foreign to Artíre, and he found it more stimulating to watch events as they unfolded, and to understand the workings of others' minds.

As he roamed the Halls of Time looking out for those of the Ainur who would aid in the shaping of Arda, Manwë found Artíre standing alone, staring into the Void after Melkor.

"Artíre," he said, metaphorically tapping him on the shoulder, "what are you looking at? There is nothing out there but the empty waste of the Void."

Artíre turned to Manwë. "Melkor has gone," he replied, "he seems to think there is something out there, for he has left this place. Why has he gone? Do you think he will return?"

"I do not know," Manwë replied. "I know only that he brought discord to the Song, and that he is now gone from among us. It grieves me to think that he does not wish to be attuned with us, but to be something else. What that is, I do not know."

The Watcher saw no problem with being completely honest with Manwë, because he had nothing to hide. At that point in time he had no concept of duplicity, so lying was impossible for him. "I have no desire to alter the vision of Ilúvatar. If it is His desire to create this world and to give us a share in it, so be it. What will be, will be. I wish only to be there, to see things as they happen."

"And what will you do about those things?" Manwë asked, with concern in his tone.

"I have not decided. I will ponder them and consider them. I may speak of them to those who wish to know, but I have no desire to rule anything, be it a rock or another Maia," replied Artíre.

"When we go to Arda, and begin to shape it, will you take part in that?" asked Manwë.

"I will not take part in any of the labours," Artíre asserted, "but I will observe them as they are taking place. I have no desire to create anything." The idea of actually creating something was, indeed, strange to him. All he wanted was to observe, to see great stories unfold before him, and to ponder them for their own sake.

"Artíre," the Vala asked him, "I need someone to observe events on Arda, and to report to me. Would you do that?"

"I would," Artíre replied. "I would indeed. I will go to Arda with you, and roam to and fro, reporting to you and to those who ask of me."

 

After the trial of Angwë the builder, brother of Sauron the servant of Melkor, who was suspected of rebellion for building his mountain, Celebdil, immediately after the fall of the Two Lamps, Artíre left Valinor and went to Middle Earth. Angwë remained behind to serve his master Aulë.

There was no light in Arda, except for the fires that still burned near where the pillars that had held the Great Lamps had fallen, and the stars that shone faintly above it all. Artíre journeyed throughout the land, observing the changes wrought by the destruction of the Two Lamps, and by the efforts of the Ainur, including Angwë, to restrain the tumults of the earth. He drifted along, for he had taken no shape, though he could do so easily enough. In fact, it was very rare for the Watcher to ever assume a form of any kind. His consciousness moved easily and did not need a vehicle.

The volcano Angwë had formed to stabilise the region so that he could build his mountain was still pouring forth smoke and ash. Here and there, plants were growing. These plants were food for many of the animals that had survived, though the monsters of Melkor had begun to reach these parts, and attacked them when they could. Artíre observed this, and noted that, while the devastation was extensive, and had completely altered the world he had known, it had not destroyed Arda. Fascinated, he looked closely at the creatures that dwelt there, and watched as they struggled to survive in a land that was scorched and dark, and teeming with predators. The Children were yet to come. There was no doubt in the Maia's mind that Melkor would take them and warp them to suit his own desires, and he was intrigued by the thought of the rebel's plans for them. A blast from Angwë's volcano rent the air, and reminded him of his conversation with Manwë in the Halls of Time.

 

"It was about great mountains rising and falling; fire and thunder and lightning; and snow and ice and rain. I feel drawn more to the world Ilúvatar purposed, but I can see that there is beauty of a sort in the changed one that Melkor sang of. He means to have rule over this new world, whether we approve of this or not."

"You speak of beauty in the vision of Melkor," Manwë pointed out.

"Indeed," said Artíre, "because it is true."

 

There was indeed beauty here, of a sort. Sparks from the volcano flew high into the air, and the colours of the flames and flares from the lava were bright and exciting. As he looked around, Artíre could see that the plants and flowers that survived the initial destruction still clung to life, and even seemed to thrive, after a fashion. Moving further away, he saw the Wild Wood near the Sea of Helcar, which had been created by the fall of the pillar Illuin, and went to explore it.

Sauron was there, in his werewolf hame, seeking for signs of the Elves who were soon to be Awakened.

"Hail, Artíre," he said to the Watcher as he approached him. "What news?"

"Hail, Sauron," Artíre replied.

Sauron could change his shape at will and though the form he was currently wearing was new to Artíre, the Watcher still recognised him.

"There are growing things that still thrive near the site of the fallen pillar Illuin, which once bore the Lamp. Melkor's monsters are moving further south now that there is little light to disturb them. Your brother Angwë was called to account by Manwë for the building of his mountain, Celebdil, but was pardoned when they saw he had not joined with Melkor, as you did. He has gone back to working for his master Aulë, and has been warned not to love his mountain overmuch, for his heart would become corrupted by his desire to keep it for himself. Therefore, he remains with his lord so that he will not be tempted," Artíre reported.

Furred lips pulled back from Sauron's long yellow fangs as he snarled, "My brother remains in Valinor, and will not seek his own pleasure? The Valar demand that he follow the path they lay before his feet, and will not suffer him to build but a rock of his own to take pride in, else he will find himself numbered with the rebels? This is intolerable! Yet Angwë accepts this, and will not complain? Has he no will of his own? Or is that also not permitted?"

Artíre understood Sauron's anger, for there had been times when he had felt it himself. He was reminded of Sauron's comment, "Artíre, your servant, has come to make his report," when he had gone to Utumno to report to Melkor on Angwë's actions. He decided to prod Sauron.

"The Valar believed Angwë because he brought back a budding leaf that had not withered in his hand, as it would in yours. I am permitted to roam wherever I wish, to observe, and to report to whoever asks me to," he said. "That is my will, and it has not been challenged. I will not take anyone as my lord, nor will I be a servant of any sort."

"But if I gave you an opportunity to take part in a scheme of ours that would make a spectacle for you to observe, would that please you?" asked Sauron, with a crafty glint in his dark eye.

"I would certainly consider it," Artíre replied.

"When the Children have awakened, I want you to whisper to them against Oromë, who has come to Middle Earth to hunt my master's monsters and destroy them. Tell them to shun him, if they should see him, for the Hunter will surely catch them and take them away to devour them," Sauron instructed.

"That I will do," said Artíre.

He left then, to seek the Elves who were soon to be Awakened, and when he eventually found them, he carried out Sauron's instructions. It was actually the first time he had lied, and it felt strange to him. Withholding information was a thing he had done many times, but actually speaking words that he knew to be untrue was a completely new experience. He did it mostly because he wanted to see what would happen if the Elves were told things about a Vala that would cause them to fear him. The idea that he could influence events like this intrigued him, and he was not averse to assisting in the making of history as long as he could be free to observe it without being caught up in it.

In the Wild Woods, Artíre found nothing which indicated that the Elves had yet awoken, so he went back to the shores of Helcar and walked along until he arrived at an inlet that was later known as Cuiviénen. Something was stirring there. He moved closer. A group of small figures was walking along the shores of the sea, stopping every now and then to comment on the things they saw. Since he was invisible, not having taken form, Artíre could approach them without disturbing them. They were fair to his eyes, and new, and interesting. He followed them for a while, and they had no inkling that a stranger was there watching them. The group began to break up as the Elves explored the wood, the shore and the mountains. Sometimes, some would leave and never come back, while others would go away for a while and then return. They would ask each other, when someone had been missing for a while, where the missing person was. Artíre would supply the answer, whispering into someone's ear, "The Hunter has come, riding on a great beast, and has taken them away to devour them."

It was always an Elf who had returned after being away for some time who would say that, so the Elves believed that there was indeed a great Hunter who rode through the woods, looking for Elves who were alone or in small groups in order to take them away. Artíre spent some years with the Elves, observing them and seeing how they grouped together, shared information and found ways to protect themselves from the menace of the monsters and other evil things that sought to destroy them. He occasionally whispered messages of fear to them about the Great Hunter, but was usually ambiguous in what he said because he did not want to simply give these new beings to Melkor and Sauron as their playthings. While he knew that both Melkor and Sauron were ranging through the woods seeking prey, he did nothing to either help or to hinder their efforts, except to tell the Elves about the Great Hunter, and to fear him. Besides, he wanted to know how Oromë would react when he saw that the Elves were afraid of him.

Eventually, Oromë came to Middle Earth and arrived at Cuiviénen. When the Elves saw him for the first time, riding on Nahar, his horse, many of them fled for their lives, crying, "Flee! Flee! The Hunter has come to devour us!"

Some of the Elves were not afraid, deeming that he was no creature of darkness, for the light of Aman shone in his face. They became his friends, and told him of all they had seen and heard. Artíre observed this, and took note of those who had not fled from Oromë, and those who had.

Artíre hid from the Hunter because he realized that Oromë might become suspicious of the fact that there was such a story about him and wonder about its source. He might then come to the correct conclusion that it was the Watcher who had planted the seeds of doubt in the minds of the Elves, and caused them to fear him. Oromë would then accuse him of choosing to take Melkor as his lord, and Artíre would be banished from Aman. Furious at the realization that he had been tricked, the Watcher was about to make his way to Utumno when it occurred to him to stay awhile and see if the Hunter would divulge to the Elves any plans he had to protect them. Then Artíre would have something to bargain with at Utumno. Then, he would take with relish the first chance he had to exact revenge upon Sauron.

Creeping as close as he dared, Artíre listened to the conversations between Oromë and the Elves. Eventually, he learned that the Hunter was going to go back to Valinor to tell the Valar what he had seen and heard, and to persuade them to come to Middle Earth to deal with Melkor once and for all. When Oromë had set off, Artíre hastened to catch up with him.

"Hail, Lord Oromë!"he declared.

Oromë pulled Nahar to a halt. "Hail, Artíre!" he replied. "What news?"

The Watcher approached reverently, showing due respect for the Vala, though he greatly feared him now. "My lord, Sauron and Melkor have been spreading an evil report among the Children about you, telling them that a Great Hunter seeks to do them harm. They themselves have been capturing the Elves and carrying them off to some foul end. What can we do to help them?"

"I am on my way to Valinor to tell the Valar what I have seen and heard. Stay here and keep watch for me, Artíre, and be ready to report to me when I return. Follow Sauron and Melkor if you can, and tell me where their hiding places are," Oromë ordered him, and spurred Nahar to gallop all the way to Valinor.

Artíre smiled. He already knew where the hiding places of Sauron and of Melkor were. He had only to wait for the onslaught that would surely come.

On the way to Utumno, the Watcher espied Sauron, still in werewolf shape, carrying the limp form of a subdued Elf in his jaws. "Sauron! Sauron!" he cried, trying to sound desperately afraid.

"What is it?" Sauron asked him, keeping one paw on the Elf, who had just fallen from his slavering jaws.

"The Valar are coming! Oromë has gone to summon them hither. Prepare yourself!" Artíre warned. "Where is Lord Melkor, that I may warn him too?"

Sauron believed Artíre, and forgot the Elf in his haste to lead him to his master. The Elf recovered his wits and seized the opportunity to flee.

In the depths of Utumno, Melkor received Artíre and heard his report. Immediately, he began to prepare for war. He spoke to the Watcher and ordered him to go and spy on the Valar, and let him know as soon as they arrived.

Artíre left, and went back to Cuiviénen, as Oromë had bidden him. The Elves were now safer than they had been before, since Sauron and Melkor were too busy preparing for war to trouble them. Oromë returned, and dwelt among the Elves, helping to guard them from attack from the evil creatures that roamed around the Wild Wood.

Oromë sought out Artíre, to confer with him regarding the Elves and the best way to keep them safe. "I was thinking that, since you have spent more time here than I have, you might know of some place we can remove them to," he said.

Artíre baulked. He had not intended to take sides in the first place, and switching sides now would be dangerous. However, to avoid becoming too entangled with either faction, he would have to relieve himself of responsibility by passing it on to someone else. "It is not truly safe anywhere on Middle Earth, since Melkor's monsters roam freely here, and move further and further Southwards every day. Soon they will range throughout the whole earth. It would most likely be safest for the Children to reside in Valinor with you."

"A novel idea," replied Oromë, "but a good one. In Valinor there is no harmful thing. Why not invite the Elves to come back with me to live there? I will have to take counsel with the others, but it is worth considering."

"I should go to Utumno," Artíre said, "so I can go between you and the other Valar, bringing reports of the war that is to come."

"Go," replied Oromë, and the Watcher went.

As Artíre made his way north, he saw the approach of the Valar, arrayed for war. Suddenly, he was afraid of them, and felt the urge to flee. They would surely expect him to report to them, and he was perilously close to Utumno.

The foothills of the Iron Mountains were teeming with evil beings, for Melkor had many spies, and the Watcher was aware that if he remained there, he would be forced to take sides. He decided to flee. As he made his way southwards, he was accosted by a group of Maiar under Tulkas.

"Hail, Artíre!" Tulkas boomed. "What news?"

Artíre froze, aware of the creatures and evil spirits of various kinds that lurked among the rocks and crevices of this place. He hoped the Wrestler would not ask too much of him at this time.

"Where is the hiding place of that traitor Melkor?" asked Tulkas, in a businesslike tone.

Artíre was terrified. Of all of the Valar, Tulkas was the most utterly fearsome, for he was the only one who had ever been able to put Melkor to flight. Lying to him was not an option, but betraying Melkor might lead to unwanted consequences. He knew exactly where Melkor's lair was, but was dismayed at the thought of leading Tulkas and his forces there. He needed a diversion. A shout in the distance provided a distraction, and as a host of monsters made a sortie from the fortress, Artíre allowed himself to be swept up in the battle, and used the opportunity to find a hiding place.

"Artíre!" Tulkas shouted, intending to rescue him. He made his way to the vent where he had seen the Watcher apparently fall.

Inside, Artíre found his way blocked, and began to clear piles of debris, the better to make his way through the tunnel.

Tulkas followed him, shouting, "The enemy has captured Artíre! Help him!"

A door opened, Artíre was admitted, and the door was shut again.

There was a loud noise as a cave-in overwhelmed the Wrestler for a moment. With a mighty roar, he shoved the debris aside, and waded through it to the door. By the force of his will, Tulkas smashed the door, and forced his way into the chamber behind it. His Maiar had followed their lord, and they all went into the chamber to do battle with the monsters they believed to be holding Artíre.

The Watcher fled deeper inside the fortress and was led to Melkor. Too terrified to resist, Artíre complied. As he followed the Balrogs who were leading him, he could see a multitude of orcs and monsters of various kinds rush about, either carrying weapons to be used in the war, or carrying equipment to hide from the Valar.

In a large chamber deep under the main fortress, Artíre saw Melkor and Sauron at a stone table. It had been formed partly through the will of Melkor, and partly by the movements of lava and gasses in the volcano. It was hidden behind a door that had been cunningly wrought to look like a part of the wall of the tunnel that led to it. He had been directing the battle through various minions from his underground lair. Melkor was working with Sauron to devise a plan to keep the Valar out of the lower levels of the fortress, if they should get in at all.

"Hail, Artíre, what news?" he asked the Watcher.

Artíre looked at Melkor like a fieldmouse at a stoat. "Tulkas approaches, my lord," he quavered. "He is here inside the fortress."

"Sauron," Melkor instructed, "go and distract him." The rebel turned and fled.

Sauron seized Artíre and led him through a series of tunnels that had been delved by slave labour into the heart of the mountains. "Come quickly, Artíre," he said, "surely the Wrestler has discovered that you are welcome here. If he does not know this yet, he will soon."

There was no argument to offer to Sauron. Whether he liked it or not, Artíre had been inveigled into taking sides, and he would never again be permitted to attend meetings of the Valar at Máhanaxar, or to have fellowship with either Vala or Maia unless they were also accounted rebels. The Watcher went with Sauron to another vent on the far side of the mountain, and together they fled to Angband, where they hid in a deep cavern until the war was over.

"There is no way back to Aman for you," said Sauron, who was in no position to be smug, though he finally had what he had wanted.

"You deceived me, Sauron," Artíre replied bitterly. He would always regret having decided to involve himself with the rebel's schemes.

"You were willing enough to tell the Elves about the Hunter who came to devour them," he pointed out. "Now be silent. I am unwilling to endure your wailing, for you have brought this calamity upon yourself."

"You said it was a chance to make some history, and to create a spectacle," Artíre replied in sour tones. He blamed Sauron for everything. "Instead, it was an opportunity for you to ensnare me in your web, so I would be forced to side with you against the Valar."

"But you had already sided with the Valar," Sauron protested. "You were deep in their counsel, and willing to tell them everything you saw and heard, so that you could sit back and watch what became of those you had made reports about."

"That is not what happened at all!" Artíre shouted, forgetting their peril. "I did not tell them everything, else they would have found you and Melkor sooner. I did tell them about the monsters, which they would have seen for themselves anyway; and about your brother Angwë, because they thought he had joined with you and Melkor, and he had not."

"You told them about my brother," Sauron said, "forcing him to choose to either join them or be banished from Aman, and perhaps from Middle Earth also. You go back and forth, stirring the pot and watching it bubble. Now you have brought about this destruction and the downfall of us both with your meddling. Begone! Go and hide somewhere else, Artíre, for I cannot abide your presence here!"

"Alas that I listened to you, Deciever," cried Artíre. "For there is nowhere in Arda or Aman where I will ever be welcome again. Curse you for causing me to lie to the Elves, for I am also cursed! If only I had not mentioned my desire for conflict and drama!"

He turned back to face Sauron one more time before he left the cavern, with rancour in his gaze. "If I had known it would end like this, I never would have told you."

 The End.

 

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