The Building of Celebdil by WendWriter

At the very dawn of Eä, the Valar and Maiar went to Arda to shape the mass into the vision of Iluvatar. Aulë the Smith went there to build mountain ranges to provide variety in the landscape. He had many followers. Among them were Artíre, Sauron, and his brother Angwë.

Of the three, Angwë was the most focused on the task in hand. He watched in awe as Aulë, with apparently little effort, caused mountains and valleys to form by the power of his will.

"Master," said Angwe, "show me how to do this, for I wish to make such structures of my own."

"If you help me with my endeavours, I will grant you your desire," Aulë replied.

"I shall help you, then," Angwë agreed.

Angwë did all that his master asked of him, and together with the other Valar and Maiar they made Arda beautiful. Angwë was pleased with the part he had played, but he wanted most to be able to create a thing of his own, that he might say, "This is the thing I have made; I, and no other. It is mine."

Now the Valar and Maiar were spirit beings that had no true, physical form - save what they were willing to affect out of necessity or personal desire. Aulë was pleased with Angwë, and it delighted him to give his pupil what he wished for. Metaphorically, then, Aulë laid his hands on Angwë's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Concentrate," he told him. "And let your mind be in complete accord with mine."

When they were completely attuned, Aulë led him in thought to the ground beneath them. He encouraged Angwë to feel the ground itself, and then to sink below it, deeper and deeper until they arrived at a place where the rock was hot, then deeper still till the rock was molten. Together they encouraged it to rise and lift the ground they stood on. As the ground melted and shifted, metals and minerals were moved, and veins of ore began to form.

Angwë was confused as a flood of information overwhelmed him, insistently adding more and more knowledge of the rocks and minerals and the way they interacted. Aulë guided him, though, and together they shifted elements and molecules in order to raise the hills up and hold them in their new shape.

When they had finished, the land was beautiful to look upon, and all of the Ainur were pleased.

At this time, there was no sun or moon, for Eä was but new-formed. There were stars, but their light shone dimly, so Aulë called Angwë and Sauron to him and together they built the Great Lamps. They made huge pillars to put them on, which Varda lit with a holy fire. In the Isle of Almaren in the Great Lake, the light from the Lamps met and blended. This was the first dwelling of the Valar, and there they dwelt in bliss.

One night, when the Valar were feasting, Melkor came by stealth and cast down the Lamps before they were even aware that he had come. Then he withdrew to Utumno, his fortress in the far North, and called others to join him.

Sauron went at once, hoping to make the most of the opportunities afforded him by the darkness, for he too desired to be a master of realms, and to rule the wills of others.

Though others were quick to heed their master's call, there were some who feared the wrath of the Valar, or that some other consequence would fall upon them. Among them was Artíre the Watcher, who refused to take sides between Melkor's forces and the Valar. He preferred to observe than take part in the events that unfolded on Arda, and secretly moved between Almaren and Utumno, bringing reports to Manwë of Melkor's doings, and to Melkor of the deeds of the Valar. Neither party knew what was in Artíre's heart, or that he was working for both sides.

When the Lamps fell, great was the destruction in all of Arda, and the ground writhed and twisted. The Valar had need of nearly all their strength to restrain the tumults of the earth, and they could not overcome Melkor at the time. Afterwards they feared to rend the Earth again, for they did not know where the Children of Ilúvatar, who were yet to come, would awake. Thus they removed themselves to the land of Aman, the westernmost of all lands on Arda, and there set up the realm of Valinor.

Angwë remained behind, furious that his great labours were now undone. He was determined to salvage what he could, and use the craft taught him by Aulë to make the ruins of what was now Middle-earth into a form that could support life.

Now the earth was torn asunder by the constant earthquakes caused by the felling of the Lamps, and this made it easier for him to will the viscous lava into the shape he desired. First he needed to create a way to safely vent the fierce heat and poisonous gasses that were spewing forth from the cracks in the earth. By the force of his will he fashioned a great well from which the gasses and lava could flow freely. This eventually became the Lonely Mountain, but Angwë abandoned it because it was not the beautiful thing he had envisioned.

He considered his vision again, which he had shared with Aulë his master: a magnificent high mountain capped with snow overlooking a lake that mirrored its beauty. This would sit like a king with his court among the mountains in a long range. As he wandered through the ruins of Middle Earth, he saw the thing he sought.

Far to the East, a range of mountains had been forced up from the earth by the impact of the Lamp Illuin when Melkor threw it down. The ground was shattered like the shards of a colossal dinner plate. Some of the shards had tilted up, some had tilted down, and constantly bumped and ground against each other as magma bubbled up to the surface. Angwë looked upon these sharp, forbidding, jagged peaks and decided that this was where he would build Celebdil, the mountain of his dreams.

When the Lamps fell, Artíre was at the northernmost reaches of Arda, near Utumno, watching the monsters of Melkor as they ranged through the dark lands where the light of the Lamps was dim. He had seen Melkor go to the Lamps to destroy them, but had elected to say nothing to Manwë, even though he knew what was going to happen, because he wanted to observe the destruction.

Though it thrilled him to his very depths to see what the will of Melkor could wreak, Artíre did not warn him when the Valar came in wrath. Instead, the Watcher stood aside as Melkor fled to Utumno.

Afterwards, Artíre discovered Angwë at work on Celebdil and watched him, fascinated by the determination of the Maia to bring forth beauty out of the ruins of Middle-earth. He hid himself among the rocks and crevices, the better to observe this scion of Aulë. Whom he would give his report to depended on the outcome.

Angwë stood on the pinnacle of the jagged shard he proposed to make into his mountain. He saw that his volcano was helping to stabilise the land mass by venting the gasses and magma. Below him, the broken ground had coalesced in places, forming stable plates of rock that would eventually support life.

Where he was standing, the hot rock was still malleable. Angwë concentrated and willed the entire range to sink into the ground, expand at the base and hold together as a mass. He sank down in thought and moved layers here and there to support the structure. As he did so, he became aware that the inside of the mountains were not solid all the way through. Pockets of gas and air had formed cavities within them.

At first, he was afraid they might collapse. If the weight-bearing layers were friable, the whole range could implode. Anxiously he made his way through it, layer by layer, until he was satisfied that there was no structural damage. There was, however, a most intriguing cavern system. Long years he worked on this, experimenting with dissolving limestone in water until stalactites and stalagmites had formed. Finally, he made his way outside the cavern system, and went to complete his masterpiece.

He looked around until he saw the spot he had seen in his vision. There he would delve a hole that would eventually fill with water. The lake would reflect the beauty of the peak that loomed above it. This was what he had desired from the first, and his heart thrilled at the thought.

Meanwhile, Artíre had been watching him. He had followed Angwë's every move, trying to discern a pattern he could report to either Melkor or Manwë. At the moment, all he could do was wait until Angwë had ceased his labours.

He seemed intent on making a mountain range - no, a mountain - of his very own. Did Angwë intend to set himself up as a lord like Melkor, or was he acting on the orders of the Valar? Artíre remained in hiding and watched the other Maia work.

Angwë did not behave as one who sought power over other wills. If this was indeed his desire, he would have either cozened others into joining him or created monsters to thwart or mock the works of the Valar. But Angwë had never been a friend of Melkor; indeed he had opposed him from the start, and joined Aulë as a servant instead. Had he done this to learn the secrets of construction so he could build things for his own benefit?

If he had been following orders from the Valar, some of them would have come with him to work on the mountains. He would certainly not have been alone in his endeavours. Artíre made his judgement: Angwë was building the mountain for his own pleasure, and apparently for no other reason or purpose. He did not desire lordship, at least for the moment. He was most likely on the side of the Valar. Now who would he tell? He considered this, and made a decision. He would go first to Melkor.

Angwë put the finishing touches to his mountain and rested from his labours. He was delighted with what he saw, but since there was no-one to share his pleasure with, he decided to seek his master and to tell him what he had done. He went back to Almaren, which was by this time unrecognisable. Most of it was drowned in the new Helcar Sea, and there was no trace of the Valar there.

His volcano was still spewing smoke and ash, so it was unlikely that the Valar would return soon. The ground on which he stood was much more stable, though. He turned westwards and beheld something new. Beams of golden and silver light swung around in every direction, illuminating the world. Angwë smiled. The Valar had begun to mend the hurts of the world. Further west, he saw that small seedlings were beginning to grow. He took a small budding leaf and went made his way towards the lights.

Artíre sought Melkor in his stronghold, Utumno. It was easy enough to find: only rank and poisonous weeds grew in that wasteland. Monsters prowled in the perilous forests. As he drew near to the fortess itself, the fissured rocks became a maze to frighten and confuse those who ventured there. He made his way to Thangodorim, the highest peak of the mountains, and waited.

Sauron crept up behind him from a secret passage. "Greetings!" he said.

Artíre slowly turned around. Sauron appeared to be alone.

"Artíre, I believe," Sauron said in affable tones. "Come, we have things to discuss."

Artíre followed him without a word.

Sauron led him down a network of cracks and crevices until they arrived at a gate guarded by two Balrogs. In this haunt of fear, lit by flickering torches in sconces of horn and bone, the very shadows appeared to be watching them as they made their way through the dank tunnels. After a while, they arrived at a place deep inside the complex where no torches burned. Light was provided by furnaces, forges, and small fires on which cauldrons or turning spits were set. Monstrous creatures crouched and snarled in cages and stalls, or strained at chains attached to the walls.

At last they arrived in a vast cavern and went over to a high dais crowned with a throne of bones bound together with iron bands. Wide steps of stone lay before it so that supplicants could make their grovelling obeisance at successive levels. The throne itself was shrouded in shadow, and a great darkness surrounded it.

Sauron and Artíre stood before it, bowed, and waited for a response. After a while, Sauron straightened up. "Greetings, my Lord," he said, "Artíre thy servant is come to report to thee."

"I greet thee, Melkor, Lord of Utumno," Artíre said in neutral tones, "and bring thee this report: Angwë Sauron's brother hath remained in Middle Earth, and hath worked for the restraining of the tumults of the earth thou hast wrought. He hath fashioned a mount of fire like unto Ered Engrin to let the heat from the rents in the earth escape. This hath calmed the writing of the ground, and living things now grow in the outermost parts of the land near where Illuin fell. Moreover, he hath wrought a mountain out of the shards of the earth that remained. He hath taken one mount of the range and fashioned it after his own desires, and there he dwelleth, still contemplating it. He seeketh not after power or dominion that I can discern, but to take a portion of the world and name it unto himself. What he will decide to do thereafter, I do not know."

Melkor was hideous to behold. His eyes were like a flame that withered with heat and pierced with a deadly cold. His features were gnarled and twisted with hate, and as he leaned towards Artíre, a foul miasma of hatred and fear overwhelmed the Maia, who fought for self-control against a desperate urge to flee.

"Dost thou know if Manwë or Aulë have approved these actions?" Melkor asked him.

"I know not, my Lord," Artíre replied with a shudder, "indeed, it may be that when they discover what he hath done, they may well be displeased that he did not aid them instead of doing as he wished. He hath neither spoken to them nor sought the assistance of others. All he hath done he hath done for himself, I deem."

Melkor turned to Sauron. "He is thy brother," he said, "knowest thou his mind?"

"I know not, my Lord," Sauron answered smoothly, "for my heart was ever bound to thee, and I did not keep company with any who opposed thee."

"Go now, Artíre," said Melkor, "and continue thy watch upon him. See what else thou canst discover about his mountain and his intentions concerning it. It may be that I will find a use for it."

In the uttermost West, Angwë saw that the beams of light he was nearing actually mingled at regular intervals. When he drew nearer to Aman, he saw that a great mountain shield wall had been raised, but there was a gap where he could enter. He saw the silver sand of the beach near the harbour, and made his way towards it just as the silvery light gave way to that of the golden.

Awe slowed him down, and Angwë took in the new sights of this fair abode of the Ainur. As he travelled, he saw the mansions and gardens of the Valar, and his heart was glad, because it proved to him that Melkor could never triumph over Manwë. Finally, he came within sight of the Lights themselves, and when he did, he was surprised. Those Great Lights were actually the fruit and flowers of two trees!

He went up to them to take a closer look, so he could discern how exactly it was that trees could shine so brightly, waxing and waning to give a different quality of luminescence for two different... what would he call them? Periods of time. Angwë sat down and observed from close quarters as the trees glowed and faded, glowed and faded. There was a bright time and there was a dim time. Surely this was the work of Yavanna. And Varda. The hand of Aulë his master was clearly absent from this phenomenon.

He was still sitting there, fascinated by the light of the Trees, when Eonwë Herald of Manwë arrived. "Angwë," he asked him, "where have you been? We have been looking for you ever since the Great Lamps were destroyed because you helped us make them, but we could not find you. Come with me to Máhanaxar, the Ring of Doom. You must face the judgement of Manwë before you are allowed to dwell here with us."

When Angwë arrived at Máhanaxar, he had expected to be asked to give a report on all that he had seen and done. When he saw them look at him with suspicious eyes, he was afraid. He stood there for some time in silence, and after a while, it became oppressive for him. Now and then he would look at his master Aulë, and try to catch his eye. If only they would say something! They just sat there and looked upon him from time to time before returning to personal deliberation.

At last, Manwë spoke. "Angwë," he said, his voice stern and serious, "look at me."

Angwë turned to face the Lord of the Valar.

"Do you know why you have been summoned here?" asked Manwë.

"To explain my conduct at Almaren after the Fall of the Great Lamps?" asked Angwë in tones that betrayed his confusion.

"What happened there?"

"The Lamps were cast down by Melkor," Angwë answered in a small voice.

"The Lamps were cast down by Melkor," Manwë repeated. "Where were you when they fell?"

Angwë recoiled at the thought that he was under suspicion for the atrocity. His mind spun at the implications. He would be condemned and banished from the world into the Void. He could not bear that. There was so much he wanted to do; so many things to be built using all the lessons he had learned from Aulë. The idea of being forever sundered from his beloved master horrified him more than anything else. To be counted an ally of Melkor was the most appalling thing to him, and there was no way he would allow this.

"My Lord," he explained, "I was in the North-west, near the Blue Mountains. I was seeking a place to begin a project I have had in mind. While I was on my way back to Almaren to seek my master Aulë, Helcar toppled over and Illuin crashed down. Vainly I hoped to stay its fall, but did not arrive in time. The ground around me began to break up, and I used the techniques Aulë taught me to ease the earthquakes; I joined some broken pieces together by the force of my will, then went to look for you."

"Did you really believe you could achieve all that by yourself?" Aulë butted in.

"No, my Lord," Angwë replied, "though I remembered everything you taught me, and calmed down the crashing earth where I could."

"But it never occurred to you to seek us out at the time," Tulkas stated, his brawny arms folded in belligerent fashion.

"No, my lord," Angwë agreed. "I was confused and afraid. I strove to contain the roiling of the shattered earth around me, then I sought my master."

"Who is your master?" Aulë thundered. "Whom do you serve?"

"Master, you have always known my mind, and it is unchanged," Angwë wailed. "Look! I have brought you all a token of my goodwill." He produced the budding leaf that he had taken from the sapling, and handed it to Yavanna.

Yavanna took the leaf in her hand and caressed it. She smiled at Angwë. "How long has this leaf been in your hand?"

"Since the new lights first shone upon the world," Angwë answered her.

"My lords," Yavanna said gladly, "it still lives!"

The other Valar considered this.

Eventually, Manwë rendered his judgment: "Mellkor craves darkness and loves to ruin our works, but Angwë has ever sought to fashion things of beauty. Sauron is gone, and many others also, but Angwë must be of the light if living things thrive in his hand."

From a distant corner, Artíre observed the trial. He was still angry with Sauron for insinuating that the choices he made about whom to consort with were for Melkor alone to decide - "servant" indeed! He decided to tell Manwë what Sauron's brother had been doing, and how things were in the realm of Melkor at Utumno. For the moment he would say nothing of Sauron's doings in case it robbed him of the drama he loved.

It pleased him to discover that both Manwë and Aulë were oblivious to Sauron's involvement with Melkor. Many of the Maiar were unaccounted for as yet; in the confusion that followed the destruction of the Lamps, many had gone astray, and wandered about in Middle Earth, easy prey for Melkor unless they were willing to resist him. The fear and rage that coursed through Máhanaxar like a flash flood down a dry valley thrilled the Watcher, and he had no intention of letting it end if he could help it.

At the moment, the Valar seemed willing to accept Angwë's story because he had brought back a budding leaf which throve in his hand. Artíre had told them that all living things under Melkor's sway were rotten and corrupt - no wholesome thing could abide with him and remain as it was. This had given Angwë a chance to prove his innocence. The only thing he had achieved, then, was to briefly cause the Valar to doubt the loyalty of Aulë's apprentice, then provided an opportunity to vindicate him. It was just as well Artíre had nothing personal against him, or he would surely have tried harder to get the Maia banished from Arda. As it was, he elected to leave things as they were. He saw no point in drawing attention to himself.

At the Ring of Doom, the trial of Angwë the Builder continued. The budding leaf had not fully convinced the Valar of his innocence, and he stood before them, unsure of his fate.

Yavanna was still holding the leaf. Turning to her husband, she said, "Is there yet a charge to be made against your servant? Look, he has brought us a sign that life is returning to Middle-earth. Let us release him to live among us as he formerly did."

Aulë looked with friendlier eyes upon him, and turned to Manwë. "My Lord," he said, "shall we not release him? Has he not proved himself to us?"

Manwë gripped the arms of his chair as he looked around the circle at each of his colleagues. Last of all he looked at Angwë. "Angwë," he said firmly, "you have indeed brought us a token of your innocence, but you have yet to tell us why you went to work on that mountain you wanted to build instead of helping us."

"My Lord," Angwë replied, "it is try that I did not seek you out, and that I worked on my mountain instead, but I did not make a stronghold or attempt to build a realm of my own. All I wanted was to make a mountain by myself so I could take pride in something I had done without anyone's help. This I have achieved. Please do not hold it against me. Now I wish to return to my place at Aulë's side, if he will accept me."

Manwë turned to Námo the Doomsman. "Námo," he said to him in formal tones, "is there any further charge to bring?"

Námo stood, and everyone stood with him. Turning to Angwë, he said to him, "Angwë, you have laid yourself open to a charge of treason against us staying behind when we left Middle-earth. You have freely admitted to the building of this mountain, which you say is not a stronghold but a symbol of your strength and will. The penalty for such vanity will surely be paid, not only by you but by any who seek to claim any part of creation in Eä, and call it his own. This doom I pronounce: you must relinquish all claim or title you believe you have to any piece of land in Arda, or your own lust will consume you."

Everyone trembled when they heard this, and took it to heart. Angwë trembled also, knowing that what Námo had said would surely be his fate if he failed to heed the warning, or appreciate the chance he had been given to prove to them all that he was on their side, and not on Melkor's. But deep in his heart a spark of desire for his mountain was hidden, and would never be quenched. For Angwë coveted the thing he had made, and was jealous of it. The one thing he feared was that someone would alter or destroy it, and this he would not countenance. Thus the building of Celebdil had set him on a path that would eventually destroy him, and, though he knew it, he chose to ignore it.

The End.