Journey in the Spirit Realm -- The Ritual

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Between the World of the Living and the World Beyond

Olwe feels his fëa, his soul, pushed away from the Gate to the Halls of Mandos.  Backwards he falls, until the dark figure is a tiny speck, then gone. Now Olwe is  cast afloat surrounded by a universe of stars, those being born, those fading into the darkness of decay.

Alone, adrift, a fear seizes him as his spirit starts to comprehend that he is between the world of the living and the world beyond.  Barred from Mandos, separated from Tilion, he is in a place of existing nonexistence.  His thoughts alone propels him, but to where, to what?  He strains to feel any part of his physical body, his hröa, and could not.  Is this, then his fate?  Nothing?

Using senses completely unrelated to physical bodies, Nienna has followed the king's spirit from the ritual chamber, on its dark journey.  The path to the Halls of the Dead, the realm of her brother Mandos, were easy to trace.  All the dead came on this path, except those who chose eternal darkness. 

Olwë Is No Longer at Mandos' Gates

As she approaches the dark gates, she can see that Olwe's spirit is already leaving -- turned back by her brother, doubtless at the High King Manwe's command.   Irmo follows his sister along the spirit path, and reaches Mandos' Gates. He also sees that Olwe's spirit had been turned away and has drifted into the emptiness.  Finding Olwe now, in the pathless and timeless realm of the spirit world is less sure.  Yet he must be found, and returned to his body!

Olwë, as He Was in the Undying Lands

Olwe turns slowly in a circle as he floats, only the vastness of the stars surround him.  Slowly, he looks down, and sees he is without clothes.  The embarrassment, the habit of the need for clothes gives fuel to his thoughts, and he is instantly dressed.  He raises an arm,  recognizing this outfit from centuries past.  This is the courtly attire that the High King Ingwe bestowed upon him when he first arrived in the Shining Lands. He remembers now, the gentle thoughtfulness of Ingwe, knowing his younger kinsman arrived with only the clothing suited for the rigors of their journey. He remembers Ingwe gently tugging on the shoulders of the jacket, as he surveyed the cut of the cloth.
 
"I did not know your shoulders were this broad, brother," he murmured, then standing back to take in the overall effect and smiling.  The way he said, "brother" brought a small, shy smile to the young Olwe.  "Come," Ingwe had then said, slipping an arm around the Teleri's shoulder.  "It is time to meet Lord Manwe, Olwe."  The young Lord had looked up at Ingwe with trepidation.  Ingwe squeezed his shoulders.  'You brought your people home.  Now allow another to do as much for you, " he had said.  Home...but he did not lead them all home.  At each place they rested, more Teleri were left behind in Middle Earth.  He did not bring them all to the West.  And the feeling of failure now sits upon the Teleri Lord like bitter ashes.

 Distances in the spirit world are meaningless. But Irmo of the Spirits could locate the lost spirit of Olwe. To Irmo, Olwe's spirit is like a beacon, floating amid the myrid stars of the Void.  Within an instant, Irmo is at Olwe's side. He sees Olwe clothed and alone.   Nienna follows her brother Irmo, a much more familiar presence, and soon finds him with Olwe's lost spirit. 

Olwe comes into an awareness, as much as he sees, a figure...no, two before  him. He knows there is no air to breathe, but he gives a "gasp" as he beholds two countenances well known to him.  He looks first at the Vala of Visions, and his etheral voice carries all the reverence locked within his heart.  "Irmo."
"Olwe, we have come to help you return to your body."
"Come with us, please.  You need to return to your body."  Nienna reaches an ethereal hand toward him. "The Gates of Mandos draw all spirits toward them.  The path of return is harder to find."

"Olwe," added Irmo. "You have been given another chance. You must live on in the world of the living. You will not die now, for there is a continued purpose for you."

Olwe turns his eyes to the Vala of Compassion.  He remembers Nienna.  He remembers the way it felt, those first few moments after the Kinslaying when he knelt in the blood of the slain on the docks, and she was beside him.  "You held me," he blurted out, remembering.  "After the Noldor left, you held me, and your tears fell with mine."

"Yes."  She smiles kindly.  "I remember.  That was long ago."
 

Alqualondë in the Early Days

Olwe turns his gaze to the Lord of Dreams, pain and grief in the look. "My lord," he answer, the agony in each syllable.  "I've failed you, the Valar, so completely, so utterly.  I..." He casts his eyes downward. "How can I have purpose when Darkness seized me so easily?  Held me so tightly?" He looks back up.  "I have spent long centuries in the West, among the Valar. I have felt you, always, around, near, watching, like loving kin.  I could open my thoughts and...hear..you. Then came I to Middle Earth and so easily defeated was I, robbed of the most precious thing to me, next to my people. And even they I lost, before ever returning from the West on your commission."

Nienna gives him gentle rebuke. "There are dark forces moving, more powerful than one Elf can defeat.  That does not mean you failed."

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