As Time Unrolls by Lyra

Sun III

Sun III.
A Fool's Hope

"I wonder how you can bear it," Manwë says.
Vairë gives him a blank look.
"Watching," Manwë explains. "Whenever I try to look at the world these days, the darkness puts me off."

"I can hardly not look," Vairë says in a deliberately mild voice. "I must record history, after all. How would I know what happens if I did not look at the world, and interview those who have departed from it?"

"Of course you do your work," Manwë says, "but I still wonder how you can bear it." He pauses, avoiding to look at any of the tapestries too closely. "Is Olórin still here?"

"No, my lord, he has already returned."

"Good. Good." Another pause. "But you sound displeased, Vairë. Do you not agree that we should send him back to Endor in this evil time?"

"I quite agree. After all, I watch what is happening there. I am just afraid that it is too little, too late."

"We had to do something."

"Oh, yes. We should have done something long ago."

Manwë tilts his head, studying Vairë. "You do not think that there is hope yet?"

Vairë meets his gaze calmly; she even manages a smile. "I do not know. If you want a prophecy, you must ask my husband. I only deal in history."