Aldudénië by Celeritas

[labourslamp.livejournal.com]

Author: Celeritas
Title: Aldudénië
Rating: G
Theme: Light and Shadow
Element:  Olórin among the Eldar
Author's Notes:  Done entirely at the last minute; consequently, I wouldn't be surprised if there were any canon errors.
Summary:  Olórin finds himself at a loss after the Darkening of Valinor
Word Count:  950, sans canon quotes

 

But of Olórin [the Quenta] does not speak; for though he loved the Elves, he walked among them unseen, or in form as one of them, and they did not know whence came the fair visions or the promptings of wisdom that he put into their hearts.

 

The Valaquenta

 

 

 

Ruin.  His kind needed not rest, but he had never felt so weary in all his life, and all his thoughts jumbled together as he tried to grasp the tumult of the past days—weeks? hours?—so that this one word alone stood out and resounded in his mind.  They were utterly ruined.

 

Oromë himself had returned last, driven back from his pursuit of the one who was his brother, blinded by the Unlight of the Gloomweaver so that he could go no further.  Melkor was fled.

 

The Noldor were leaving now, returning to mourn in fair dark Tirion, and no one had the heart to stop them, for they had lost the most of all: the light of the Trees, the works of their hands, and their King.  They had perceived the same thing that he, that they all had: change, slow, grinding, inexorable change was in the air, and no one knew how he was to be a part of it.

 

So it was that even as the Noldor departed, he found himself drawn towards the Máhanaxar, where surely now the Valar must sit in council and deliberate what to do.  Unclothed he drifted thither, and found indeed that Manwë and Varda were already upon their thrones, and many Maiar and many Eruhíni were standing outside the Circle, lending what little support they could in their grief.

 

Drifting away, he found once more the dreadful scar of the Darkening—the Ezellohar, on which lay the broken hröar of the Trees.  And there he found the one he sought, the one who alone could give him guidance in these darkened times; and though her tears had long ago washed away the defilements of Ungoliant, still she wept.

 

She saw him, though she did not turn her head, and reached out to him in thought.

 

Ah, she said, my fair Olórin, what brings you here in these troubled times?

 

Making his way so that he faced her, he abased himself before her.

 

My lady, he said, I would weep with you a while, for my heart is heavy and I need to gather my thoughts.  I have lost all hope, and I know not what to do.

 

Would that we could weep together, you and I, she said.  But the time for tears and for reflection grows short; I am summoned to the Council of my kindred and I will not disappoint them.

 

My lady, what should I do?  Is there aught I may do to help you?

 

Nay, she said, or rather, not in that way that you think.  She drew herself to her full height, and for a moment he glimpsed the depth of that power within her which she normally masked.  But if you would ask for my advice, I would say this: take all the time that you need at the Mound, to mourn for what once was and what could have been.  Then, go among those who are grieving and unburden their hearts.

 

I do not understand, my lady.  How may I unburden their hearts when there is no hope?

 

She stared at him right in the eye, and her look was so unfathomable that he felt as weak and foolish as one of the Eldar in the face of her wisdom.  No hope there may be, but despair is a canker that eats at the heart of these people who have known no sorrow.  It must not be allowed to take root in them, lest the treachery of Melkor ruin more than the land.

 

And he did not think he understood, even now, but he knew now what to do and he bowed before her.  And when she left he sat alone upon the mound and wept.

 

At last, when his heart was filled with some semblance of peace, he went out to where the Vanyar were weeping.  He did not know how long the Valar had been in council, but the loss of the Light had wearied many and though no one had left the circle, some minds wandered even now in dark dreams.

 

Tentatively he approached one, though she could not see him.  Her eyes were staring into the distance, focused on nothing.  Briefly he reached out to her with his mind, and saw that she dreamed of shadow, swallowing the world around her and drowning even Taniquetil itself in a black fog.  He backed away.  For how was he to offer consolation to her when he feared the very same things she did?  If he were to comfort her in her mind with images of light, would he not be merely offering her a lie?

 

Nay, the answer came at once, but a truth beyond the lie.  For though beauty may never be again, yet beauty was there once, and it deserved to be honoured, not shunned because it was no more.

 

Suddenly that look in the Lady Nienna’s eye became somewhat clearer.

 

Again he reached out to the Vanya, and worked into her dream images of those Trees that were, and of the beauty of Valinor before its darkening.  By the time he left her to move on to another, her dreams were filled with myriad mingling lights, and though tears stole down her cheeks they were not ones of despair.

 

When she awoke, she felt strangely refreshed, and departed from the group to sit apart.  And taking her festival harp upon her knee, which should have been used to sing the praises of Yavanna, she began to form in her mind a lament, some suitable way to turn all that had happened into song; and so cleanse the last traces of darkness from inside her, from inside them all.

 

 

 

Of the deeds of that day much is told in the Aldudénië, that Elemmírë of the Vanyar made and is known to all the Eldar.  Yet no song or tale could contain all the grief and terror that then befell.

 

Of the Darkening of Valinor, The Silmarillion

Comments

[pearltook1]

Beautiful, Celeritas. It is a good thing to not forget the beauty that has been.

[labourslamp.livejournal.com]

Indeed, especially with such wondrous beauty as must have been present in the Two Trees.