Chapter Text
It was the the Second Age of the Sun. Things had been reasonably calm in Arda since Morgoth had been thrown into the Void by the Valar a couple of years earlier. At the moment, nearly all of them were at the mansions of Manwë and Varda for a rare meeting of simply spending time together.
“Even if he is finally behind bars, I still cannot really relax for some reason. It...almost feels like a foreshadow of something that will come…” spoke Oromë as he moved a chess piece. He was playing against Tulkas, who actually tried to not cause too much trouble for once. While he was not that good at sitting still, Tulkas made an honest attempt to remain focused.
“What do you mean, brother?” Nessa asked from where she was helping Yavanna to tend to an injured bird. Oromë did not respond at first, seeing that he needed to watch one of his chess towers from being taken.
“He likely feels that this is not the last trouble we have seen from Morgoth and his followers,” summarized Námo in a sudden voice as he showed up out of the blue, causing his fellow Valar to nearly jump in fright.
“AAAAAAH!”
Oromë hardly felt the need to complain when Tulkas, in fright, knocked over the chess board at hearing Námo.
“I hate when you and Irmo do that, Námo! At times like this, one can almost mistake you for another one of the fëar which you are in change of down in your Halls...what is wrong?”
First now when he had removed his hood it was seen that Námo looked rather tired, with dark circles under his eyes, as if he had not been getting enough sleep for a couple of days.
“You try and get enough sleep when the two oldest sons of Finwë, their many brats and some new visions of the coming future are not allowing you to get any sleep...Yavanna, is Aulë in his mansions? I really need something strong to try and get myself knocked out for some much needed sleep…”
This was not the first time Námo had complained like that about how the Houses of Fëanor and Fingolfin behaved in his Halls, so the other Valar chose to simply let him pass. After all, it was not like that Námo meant any harm in trying to drink something strong, he simply needed some extra help with his sleep problems at times.
“Yes, he is in the forge,” Yavanna spoke without looking up from the bird in her lap, as she tried to heal its broken wing.
“If you need my help, brother, just tell!” called Irmo from his place and got a faint hand wave as thank you from his brother.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
In a more private part of his Mansions, Aulë was sitting at a table and working on something that seemed to be some kind of paint job as he had several small jars with painting colours on the table in front of him.
“Possible to request something strong for sleeping, my friend?”
The Smith Vala did not look very surprised at seeing Námo sit down at the table so he faced him, or how exhausted he seemed to be.
“Just let me finish painting this one and I will give you something.”
A final brush stroke with a deep green colour, and Aulë put down the small stone figure on the table beside several others. They were so small in size that they easily could fit in a Vala's palm. Námo, who had placed his head in his palm during the wait, almost smiled at seeing what it was.
“Some of your newest Children?”
“Aye, those who I plan to become the newest generations.”
If it was anything to make Aulë happy, so was it his Stone Children, the Dwarves. As their Maker breathed on them, the small Dwarves started to move and look around. They did not have any voices to speak with yet, but they still had the curiosity and charm of young toddlers. In fact one of them, a cute little white-blonde one with dark skin, was even brave enough to waddle towards Námo and trying to pull on a lock of his black hair. Námo laughed a soft, tired laugh at seeing the small Dwarfling make several attempts to climb up in his hair.
“I am afraid that my friend's hair is not the best thing to climb in, cutie,” smiled Aulë and freed Námo from the Dwarfling with a careful hold on the Dwarfling's green tunic and placed a cup of steaming hot tea on the table.
“Thank you.”
“I added some alcohol in it so you can sleep more easily. You really need a break from babysitting all those dead people once in a while,” Aulë said while quickly preventing another one of the Dwarflings from falling over the edge of the table.
“Why do you think I came here to borrow that guest room you have made for visits like this?” remarked Námo with one raised eyebrow before drinking the tea and then entering the guest room. He was really tired, and thus it did not take long before Námo had fallen asleep. Aulë sighed, before covering his fellow Vala with a blanket.
“Things really has gone south in so many ways ever since we in our fooliness allowed Morgoth to be free again…”
~X~X~X~X~X~X
A couple of hours passed, before Námo woke up again from his nap, now feeling somewhat more rested. He and Aulë had just joined the Valar in the wast garden outside Varda's mansion, when they suddenly felt something different, a new and rather odd smell, in the air around them. It was not Manwë doing that, as he had raised from his chair at sensing the difference.
“Aulë, are you or one of your Maiar burning some sort of weed around here to clean out the air?” asked Yavanna in confusion while she wrinkled her nose over the smell, as her husband normally never did that.
“Really sure that it is not young Aiwendil this time, honey?” she got in answer from where he was. That Maia of hers was rather infamous among them for being somewhat simple-minded yet kind soul and not always focusing on what he has for task in his hand. On the other hand, Oromë was already seeing that Aiwendil was with the other Maiar around the place and did not do anything strange.
“Ai, Nienna! You are almost crying literal rivers of tears from whatever it is in the air!” Ulmo commented at seeing what was going on with her and made a clumsy attempt to lessen her tears with some of his water powers, althought that only caused her to become dripping wet and cry even harder even if she did stuttering attempts to thank him for the kindness at least. More than one of the Valar was now coughing a bit and Manwë tried to clean the air with his powers.
“What is going on...wait…”
They all stopped to move for a bit.
“Is you feeling what I am sensing too?” whispered Varda in a quiet voice, as if she could not believe what she was sensing.
“No way…”
“It really is…!”
They looked on each other for a moment.
“FATHER! ”
Abandoning what they currently were doing, the Valar rushed away, forgetting anything about acting like the Gods of Arda as they were. In this moment, they were young children again, eager to find their father.
“This way!”
As the Huntsman of the Valar, Oromë led the way around the mansion while following the strange scent.
Now a voice could be heard singing, and the way in which he spoke simply was charismatic and captivating for any listener:
All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.
It was a man of age, whose almost white hair tended to be a bit unruly at times.
He could be described as a man with eyes of depth but also full of wisdom, wit and humour, sparkling when he told stories or thought of things that please him. Although of age, something about this person could be described as still being youthful. The strange smell which the Valar had felt was actually the scent of tobacco he was enwrapped in because of his pipe. He smiled a friendly smile at hearing a voice calling:
“Faaaaaather!”
Perhaps the Valar had been a little too excited at sensing the aura of Eru Ilúvatar, for one of them ended up tripping on a tree-root and ending dragging several others with him in the fall, landing in a pile at the feet of their father. Ilúvatar laughed in a kind way at the rather amusing sight, the wrinkles round his eyes showing by the movement.
“Long time no see, my dear children. ”
Ilúvatar showed no signs of being annoyed when the Valar tried to get free from each other.
“Get of me…!”
“Would you people mind getting of me, please?”
After a couple of minutes of strugging, the Valar managed to get free from one other and stood up so their Creator could grab them all into a group hug.
“You have grown so much in wisedom like I last saw you. ”
“Grown much in wisedom? I would not exactly say that, not with how things has turned out, especially after everything with my brother…”
Manwë listed several bad things that had happened ever since the first time that Morgoth had woved his strange thoughts into his song, making his song clash against the Theme of Ilúvatar, disturbing the Ainur around him and causing some of them to attune their music to his. Once Manwë had finished talking, the other Valar were quick to voice how they had felt about it as well. Ilúvatar listened with the patience of a father on what they spoke, nodding at times to something and drinking a cup of the tea that Estë had offered him during the wait for her turn to speak.
“...and therefore, I say that we should try to...Father!” protested Tulkas when Ilúvatar gently placed the now empty tea cup on his head with one hand as a unspoken request to his most warlike son to stop talking.
"Aulë, Námo. Neither one of you two have spoken yet. Is something wrong?” asked Ilúvatar when he saw them stand a bit away. Neither one of the Vala seemed willing to talk in front of the others. Sighing at seeing how hesitant they were, for He knew when it was something that troubled His children, Ilúvatar signaled for Aulë and Námo to come with him.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
“Something is deeply troubling you, Aȝūlēz. I see it in your eyes and body language. ” Ilúvatar spoke, using Aulë's name in Valarin as he placed his hand on Aulë's back like how he often had done during the Music of the Ainur as the Valar had been born from him and grown up. Aulë sighed in a defeated way, before picking up something from a bag he wore in his leather belt. In his hand, laid some of the Dwarflings he had been creating earlier.
“I am deeply saddened by the events in the First Age, Father. Not just because of how Morgoth tainted Arda so much and how Mairon refused to come home to me again, but also because of how things had gone so sour between the Firstborn Children and my Children of Stone…it is a great grief for me to know that the new generations of my children might never know the glory days of friendship between their people and the Firstborn...”
In his mind, he remembered the horrible events of Thingol being killed by the Dwarves of Nogrod when they entered a fatal disagreent over the Nauglamír and the Battle of the Thousand Caves. He regained his focus when he heard Námo say:
“...not to complain about Luthien and Beren now Father, but the tales about them has given other young people, especially mortal females, the very silly idea of being able to plead to me to allow them to be together forever in death...claiming that their parents will not allow them to be together with the men that they love for reasons that are actually very legitimate. Often those girls fall for youngsters that are not good for them…as if those crushes can be compared with true love...”
Ilúvatar patted Námo's head in a silent apology for indirectly causing more trouble for him, before looking at Aulë.
“Your sorrow is understandable, my Smith-son. Althought your Children of Stone were not part of the original plan for Arda, I have seen what important roles they will come to play in the battle against Shadows. As for the lost days of glory and friendship between them and the Elves in the First Age...I plan to have that change, if the two of you are willing to listen to this idea I have. ”
Both Aulë and Námo looked up at their Father in confusion over his words. Bending down, Ilúvatar carefully picked up one of the Dwarflings from Aulë. Tiny enough to be half the size of the thumb on the All-Father, the Dwarfling instinctly searched for Aulë as all the Dwarves knew their Maker by sight and his paternal love.
“You've seen the damage words can do, when full of thoughtless pride. Anger and hurt blooms deeply from such deeds, especially when greed gets mixed into it as well. And yet, there is a chance of healing as well. Specific individuals can be able to see past old belief when they get a change to see things in a very different light. It is them we need to protect in times of mistrust and enmity. Say...if a Dwarf and an Elf were to fall in love with each other. If a such relationship were to bloom, I will allow the Dwarves to become alive in Valinor as well and letting the different members from the House of Fëanor be reborn long before the Final Battle. ”
Aulë first looked really shocked, then changed like he actually had been given some sort of hope, while Námo facepalmed.
“Well, I see no reason why we should not try that out, at least once. Just...no more of all that “star-crossed lovers” thing, Father. It was enough trouble when Luthien came after Beren, and there are some of Finwë's descendants who found their One in mortal women…”
However, it was heard in his voice that Námo was willing to test this out, and the grateful look Aulë gave him spoke much of his feelings about his fellow Vala's words.
“Love is a bittersweet thing, my Judge-son. But do not worry. I believe that I have chosen the right Elf for this relationship. I will not blame you for getting shocked when you see who the Elf is, but try and trust me in this. There are some who need to get free from their past and blood ties, which they only can find with someone who does not care about the family history. ”
The tiny Dwarfling crawled around in Ilúvatar's hand, having spotted Aulë and felt somewhat more safe at seeing him close. Yawning, the little Dwarf laid down for a nap on the palm on which the young one was held. Ilúvatar smiled, before breathing gently on the sleeping Dwarfling and a small golden light started to shine around the Dwarfling. As Ilúvatar then sent the Dwarfling away as a spirit to find the chosen parents which Aulë had picked out, the other Valar arrived.
“Father, what did you just do?”
Ilúvatar only smiled at the question, while he did lit his pipe again. This time they were more prepared on the strange smell and Manwë fixed a soft wind to gently blow it away.
“Just fixing the first steps on a new path, my children. ”
Then, Ilúvatar slowly started to be transparent.
“Fa…!”
“ Have no fear. It is simply time to me to return to the Timeless Halls after this visit. But I will try and visit more often in the future. “
Even if they did try and act in a mature, none of the fourteen Valar really managed to hide their sadness over that their father and creator would leave again so soon. Yet they felt a comforting happiness over knowing that Ilúvatar would come to them on a surprise visit in the future as well. As Ilúvatar walked past them, he patted the Maia Olórin on the head and said in a fond voice while pulling up the hood over his head:
“Do not try and duel against any Balrogs before it is time for the Fellowship of the Ring, young Gandalf. ”
Both the Valar and present Maiar gave Ilúvatar puzzled looks over his strange words. Once the All-Father had vanished, Nienna gave Olórin a serious look that made her seem rather frightening despite her tears over that Ilúvatar just had left.
“Have you been trying to leave Valinor for Middle-earth, Olórin?” she asked in a low, dangerous voice to him.
“N-no, my lady! Not since the War of Wrath at the end of the First Age!” yelped Olórin as he nearly tripped backwards in slight fear at seeing this very unusal behaviour from his otherwise very quiet and calm mistress. On the other hand, Aulë saw how Curumo, one of his own Maiar, seemed to be boiling out of pure anger for some reason.
“Curumo? What are you doing?” wondered Aulë in confusion, as Curumo normally never behaved like that. The Maia got all red in his face and turned around with a snort. Aulë sighed, mentally hoping that he would not lose another Maia to the evil of the world.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
A couple of hundred years passed. Until one late winter day in the year 750 of the Second Age in Orocarni, a mountain range in the far east of Middle-earth and home to four of the Dwarven clans:
“AAAAAAAAGH!! ”
The painful scream echoed from inside the birthing chamber, for there was one Dwarrowdam named Ala in the full work of giving birth. It was not the first time she did this, for she was to be a mother of two with this new child. But it did not mean that she was more prepared for the pain this time, since it was little over 30 years since her first childbirth and just because of how much time that had passed, this pregnancy had been a big surprise for the family.
“For the love of the Maker...Balder! You are not going to be allowed to touch me in bed for the next five years, you hear me!?” she snapped while one of the midwives told her to stop screaming and focus on pushing instead. Her husband Balder, who was waiting in a side room with their 30-year-old son Odin, tried to not shudder at his wife's words as he lit a pipe to calm down himself.
“Is it supposed to take this long, Adad?” asked Odin nervously as a new scream was heard from his mother inside the birth chamber. Almost as if she had been hearing her grandson, Balder's aging mother Frigga looked out from the chamber for a moment to say:
“It is much you do not know yet about the world, grandson of mine.”
Odin could only nod to his grandmother's words. A few more minutes passed. Then, finally, the first cry of a newborn could be heard from inside the birthing chamber.
“A girl!”
“It is a little girl!”
The joy over it being a living child, was mixed with double the joy over that it was a newborn girl; for the Dwarrowdams were only one third of the Dwarven race and thus every new girl born among the Dwarves was worth far more than what any non-Dwarf possibly could understand.
“Balder! Odin! Get in here and meet our new family member.”
Once the little girl had been washed and wapped into a baby blanket, she was placed in her mother's waiting arms so her father and brother could enter the birthing chamber. Like her 30 year older brother Odin, the infant girl had inherited her father's golden hair and his genes for pale skin had given her a lighter skin tone than Ala's black skin.
“Look at her, beloved Ala. Mahal has granted us one of the highest honors we can have: being the parents of a daughter,” spoke Balder in a tender voice, almost to the point of tears in pride, as he carefully held his newborn daughter. At the sound of his voice, she opened her eyes and made a small sound without really starting to cry.
“What will you call this lovely little lady?”
“Narvi. Her name shall be Narvi.”
The newly named baby girl started to cry softly, making Balder give her back to Ala so she could nurse Narvi and in doing so, giving her the first meal in life. After finishing nursing and being gently burping so she would not get a belly ache later, Narvi yawned in tiredness before she fell asleep, for both mother and daughter was much exhausted after the hard work of birth. None of the Dwarves in the chamber heard a soft, invisible whisper from the All-Father Himself:
“ Now, little one. You have a task that can bloom into a new era of glory between the Eldar and the Children of Stone. Bloom with your whole spirit and may you soon know the wisdom only time breeds. Bloom and bring your colours to the vast bouquet that is my Children. There's room to grow in skill, bloom in life, and learn one thing; Your gifts are meant to be shared even with those outside your race. May you succeed in bringing life and joy to someone who really needs it. ”
~X~X~X~X~X~X
At the same time, far longer northwest in the Elven city of Ost-in-Edhil, the capital city of Eregion:
Celebrimbor looked up from the small altar he hade made for his dead family members, the lit candles giving the room a soft light.
“What...is this strange feeling?”
He did not know exactly what had caused him to stop lit the candles the moment before, but for some reason it did not feel like something bad. Rather, it felt like a omen of something good that would be coming to him in the future.
“Whatever it is, I hope that it might be something that will help me stop feeling so lonely ever since so few of my relatives are still alive…”
Looking out on the night sky, Celebrimbor saw that it was a full moon outside. The sight caused him to smile faintly in a sorrowful manner, as he turned back to the altar and sent a long prayer to Námo that his paternal family would be allowed to be freed from the Halls in a not too far away future. As the years had passed since the War of Wrath, Celebrimor had come to fear that he never would be free from his background as the grandson of Fëanor and the sins of his family they had had commited in the Three Kinslayings. Even if he never had been part of those events or raised a weapon towards another Elf, Celebrimbor still felt as if his own hands were covered in unseen blood from the horrible deeds of his family and that he would never be able to clean his hand free from the sins of the past.
“So much death and grief, for three cursed gems my grandfather made…”
Sighing, Celebrimbor picked up one of the few remaining drawings of Maedhros that she had allowed to be made of herself in the First Age, then another one: A hand-drawn portrait, in the kind of parchment used for portraits, in profile from the person's left side. The Elf captured in the drawing was a male, with an unkempt mass of dark red hair and a V-shaped scar on his left cheek along the jaw line form his left ear. But what one really got captivated by when looking at this portrait, was that it was a completely merciless gaze in his black eyes. Side by side, the two drawings showed that Maedhros without the slightest hint of possible doubt, even with how scarred she was after her time in Angband, was the mother of the male Elf.
“Aunt Maedhros...if only we had known what really had happened in Angband much earlier, would we have been able to help you get your child back? My unknown cousin Rûsa, who was taken from you almost straight after that you had given birth to him? ”
Even if he had only known about his cousin for about two days before both Maedhros and Rûsa had been killed after that Rûsa had tried to escape from the Noldorin camp by using Maedhros as hostage, Celebrimbor still felt that it should have been something he could have done to prevent their deaths at the end of the War of Wrath.
“I am so horribly sorry for how it ended that day when both of you died, aunt Maedhros...I really wish that we could have freed my poor cousin from Angband long before he had been shaped into the feared Warg Rider of Morgoth…and I cannot even imagine the horrible pain and grief you must have felt at learning that he was your own son...” Celebrimbor cried bitterly at the memories.