Nienna looks up aghast at the Maia's harsh words. Sitting upright, she glares at him imperiously. "What words are these? How do you dare to speak to Lord Aulë so? Why do you speak at all?"
Eonwe turns his gaze from the Maker to the Valle of Compassion, his eyes still bright, and his lips twist into a bitter smile. "Lady Nienna, she who offers comfort and compassionate care to those in dire distress. Who, my Lady, is in need of your gentle embraces and sweet tears this night?" His hands curls into fists, and his gaze slides back to Aule.
Aule watches Nienna as she plays with her looks. He takes great pleasure in her delight in the physical world and her physical body. His frown deepens as the doors of the chamber open and two of his serving Maiar enter. He turns to watch them carry out their duties, untrusting and suspicious, as he was of all these days save the Vala by his side. His eyes narrow as he watches them. There is something.. something about the leading Maia. His walk is wrong. His demeanor is wrong. And something else. He folds his arms as he watches him. There was something familiar about him. But what is it? And now, now not only does he lack the proper demeanor for one in such lofty presence, but he dares to turn and speak! Shocked at first at the audicity, Aulë is slow to realise just who stands so cunningly disguised before him.
Nienna lurches to her feet, and strides angrily to the impudent servant. "Never," she breathes fiercely, "never has any Maia so spoken to a Vala!"
Nyarnyarro stares in growing horror at the Maker's face. Never has he seen a look of such hatred upon another as he now sees upon that of his master as he recognises the one who stands before him. It is wrong. He glances around the chamber, taking in the Lady Nienna lounging indulgently on an opulent couch, the silk and satin draped bed. It is just all wrong. And it is time it stopped.
He turns his gaze to his companion. Eonwë stands tall and proud before the Smith, unflinching. Yes, it is time someone set things to rights, but Eonwë could not do it alone. Not against an Ainu. And he will not have to do it alone, not if Nyarnyaro has anything to do with it. He is only one Maia, true, but he has a voice. A voice that could call others to the Herald's aid. Casting one last look at the other Maia he begins to cautiously edge his way from the chamber. He has fought at this one's back before. He will seek help from the other Maiar here at Mandos, and together they will fight at his back again, and fight he knew they must. He casts one last glance at the thunderous expression on the Smith's face as he slips through the still open doors. Yes, fight they must.
Yavanna's hair swirls restlessly around her shoulders as she follows the Lord of the West down yet another long corridor. The air here is musty and dank for by now they are well below the surface. The hallways are only dimly lit, the flames of the torches dance and leap as they stir the air with their passing, casting eerie shadows ahead of them upon the cold stone walls. "It is as though they know," she thinks as she hurries on. "It is as though they feel the same fear and hurry us on." She stops, rooted to the spot as the realisation hits her. Yes, she is afraid. Afraid of what she will find at the end of this day. Afraid of the very answers she has sought so urgently.
Manwe, lost in his thoughts of unforeseen chaos before him now, stops abruptly when his companion halts. The spirits of the dead flow along the halls, much like a slight breeze of the air. But the air is laden with a chill demeanor. They have descended deep into the Halls of the Dead, and urgency drives them on. But this pause surprises him. He waits a moment, but his anxiety builds. "Yavanna, why do you halt in this pursuit? Do you see something ahead?" Manwe asks worriedly. If indeed something were visible ahead, Manwe wondered now about his very perceptions. He awaits her response, hoping his worries are unfounded.
Yavanna gives a small shake of her head as she looks up at Manwë. She sees the same fear reflected in his eyes. Her heart goes out to him in that moment, for she knows the outcome of this journey is as important to him as it is to her. "I.. no, no, it is nothing." she attempts a reassuring smile as she hurries to catch up with him. "Come, my Lord, let us not delay."
Aule does not take his eyes from the Maia standing so boldly before him as he answers Nienna. "Yes, there has been one. One upstart puppy of a Maia who has spoken so boldly before." His eyes narrow even more now as he looks closely at the one standing so boldly before him. "And I think now he has taken to not only boldness and disrespect, but now, deceit as well, have you not, Eonwë? For it IS Eonwë who stands before us now?' He lets his eyes roam the other insolently before giving a snort, 'I must say I approve of your new look. It suits better your role as lackey to your betters. But you have yet to learn the proper demeanour, I see."
Nienna 's eyes widen as she takes in Aulë's words. She looks from one to the other. "This is Eonwe? You did not exaggerate when you told me of his insolence and treachery. How could he have sunk so low?" She turns back to Eonwe. "Get thee gone! I will not have thy foul presence here!"
"Never has one of the Valar so betrayed herself and us all," Eonwe answers Nienna, his gazes locked upon the face of the Maker. He takes a step forward, toward the Maker, his voice low and quiet, yet it rises up and fills the room with a cold heat. "Deceit," he says, and lets the word settle about them, like a cold mist around the sacred mountains. "Yes, You drink and eat deceit, and feed it to others." He juts his chin in the direction of the other Vala. "You have poured it into her ear, like a poison. You have fashioned it into a whip with which to beat my brother and sister Maiar into submission. Deceit is all you would see..."he pauses and spits out the word, "Maker." He takes in a breath. "For that is what you are best about." And Eonwe casts off the disguise like a used blanket and takes the form that has always been his.
Nyarnyaro's feet slap hard against the stone floor, echoing hollowly in the empty corridor. As soon as he is free of the chamber he shall set out as fast as his legs could carry him in search of help. Now as he runs his mind keeps playing out the scene he had just witnessed. He must get help and he must get help fast! So preoccupied is he, and not expecting to encounter others at such a deep level of Mandos, that he is completely taken by surprise as he rounds a corner and runs full tilt into a strong, muscular body. Shaken from his preoccupation he looks up as he clutches at the other, as intent on saving himself from falling as saving them. "Lord Manwë!" he gasps, his voice a mixture of shock and relief, "Thank Eru, you have come!"
Shocked, Manwe grabs the one before him as he runs into him. After hearing the gasping voice, he steadies himself and the Maia. "Here now, what is the rush?" he asks. "Steady on, slow down, what is so urgent?" He recognizes the panic on the Maia's face.
"Nyarnyaro!" Yavanna gasps, for even in the gloom and in his disheveled state, she recognises the Maia who has served her husband faithfully for many Ages. But this isn't the calm, self-assured Maia she has known for so long. Never has she seen him so perturbed. The urgency of his manner and tone sends a shiver of dread through her. She looks up at Manwë, her eyes huge and luminous, "He serves Aulë, my husband."
Aule moves to stand protectively by Nienna's side as Eonwe takes a step forward. "I see you have gone deaf as well now. Did you not hear the lady's command? I reinforce it with my own. You bring insults and hate to our home. I give you one chance to be gone or face the consequences. Be Gone!"
Eonwe gestures around the chamber as he speaks. "Home?" he asks, voice thick with sarcasm and disdain. "The abandoned stone prison of your fallen and twisted brother, he who would have corrupted and destroyed all Eru wished called into being? Call you it home?" He folds his hands across his chest. "Nay, Maker, upon reflection, you are aright in that. It should be thy home, from this time evermore, such as it was HIS home. For I see me you are no better. Here you speak of home and cosy to a Lady not your own, while with traitorous and painful words you spurn and torment your own sweet wife. Yes. your home should be these walls, but never should they be the Lady Nienna's, for she is but a pawn in your vile and lustful desires."
Nienna sputters and fumes, unsure which of these vile statements to respond to first. With angry tears in her eyes, she simply shouts, "Out! GET OUT!" and points shakily toward the still-open door.
Nyarnyaro takes a deep breath to steady himself even as he continues to shift from foot to foot with impatience. Unable to restrain himself, he blurts out, "My Lady Yavanna, my Lord Manwë, I must tell you. My Lord Aulë and the Lady Nienna are down in the chamber, the one.. the one that used to be Melkor's cell. They.. they are living there and now.." He pauses and flushes with embarrassment as he glances at the Lady Yavanna, embarrassed to be the bearer of such news, yet the urgency of the situation compels him to continue. '"And now, My Lord, Eonwë, your Herald, is down there with them, and he has called my Lord 'traitor,' and I have come to seek help, for I fear my Lord will do him harm. Please! You must come. You must hurry! There is no time to waste. Please!"
"Eonwe is here!" Manwe says aloud. He suspected he was, but here is telling evidence of his presence. His feelings change from despair to hope. The thought of seeing his Herald again brings a moment of joy to his heart before the doubt and worry come flooding back. Questions whirl in his mind. "What is this about Aulë and Nienna? What has this to do with my Herald?" His need for answers is moved by the Maia's urgency. He says, "Lead us to them."
Yavanna sees the joy flash across Manwë's face as he hears Nyarnyaro's words. So Eonwë is here. But the Maia's words bring no joy to her own heart. Aulë is here also. Aulë, living with Nienna. Aulë whom Eonwë has now called 'traitor' to his face. It is not only Yavanna's heart that feels turned to stone. It is her entire being. Her body feels as cold and hard as the walls around them. Her face feels rigid and frozen, like it will never smile again. Living with Nienna? What did he mean, Aulë is living with Nienna? But the others are moving off hurriedly down the corridor, and she must follow. As with the Lord of the West, she must have answers, but she doubts there will be any joyous reunion at the end of the day, such as she had hoped there would be between Manwe and Eonwë. No. For her there will be nothing but dust as her world crumbles around her.
Eonwe unfolds his arms and gentles his voice as he is moved by the tearfilled voice. "Come with me, Lady Nienna. Take my hand, and let me lead you out of this befouled den of shame." He stretches out his hand to the Vala of Compassion. "You do not have to besmirch your reputation and your honor so, my Lady. Come, let me take you to Lord Manwe, please."
Aule strides swiftly across the small distance separating he and Eonwe. His hands are clenched fists held taut by his sides, and his nostrils flare wide as he glares at the insolent Maia. "Do not touch her! You come here and dare to judge us? Dare to judge ME! You, who are nothing but Manwe's errand boy, his milksop messenger, a lowly Maia, you dare to judge your betters? You come here and pose as so pure and righteous, but it is no virtue that drives your words. Look into your heart, if you have one, Eonwe and see the truth. It is envy. Yes, envy! Envy and bitterness! Envy that you have been denied love throughout your life. Bitterness that all you do with your time is carry tales for Manwe, run and do Manwe's bidding. You probably spoon the food into his mouth and wipe his posterior for him too, when there is need. Hurry home, Eonwe, back to Taniquetil. Your lord might have need of you. Scurry home like the cur you are, for you are not wanted here!"
Nienna draws back from Eonwe. For a moment, the tone of his voice reminded her of something from long ago. Something she can't quite remember. But Aule's rebuke drives that from her mind.
Eonwe drops his hand and casts one last look to the Lady Nienna. In his eyes, undisguised, is a mingling of regret and sorrow. His mouth had softened with his words, but as he turns to Aule, it firms into a tight line, the eyes now bright and sharp. He, too, takes a step forward, toward the Maker. No gentle voice answers the taunts, but one that is low, almost a growl, thick with undisguised disgust. "I should pity you," he answers, "Maker, Smith, Lord of tiny misshapen creatures you once hoped would steal a place upon the world intended for Eru's bright creations. I should pity the worm that walks upon two legs, that thinks..." he pauses and drops his voice lower, "of only his own small worm betwixt those legs." He brought his voice back up. "I should pity he who has such a high place and can do naught but keep it by standing upon the backs of my brothers and sisters. Maker?" he hisses the last word. "It should be you are called Aule the Impotent. Aule the misspent. Aule the Bent. He who had the greatest of destinies but would rather crawl upon his belly and follow his own dark brother in treachery. Thy true Lady is ill served by such as you. I cannot think me but she would be better served with any true Vala but you."
Nyarnyaro needs no further urging and sets off back down the way he had come. He needs not glance back to see if the others follow for he can hear their urgent footfalls behind him as he runs. Thoughts tumble through his mind in jumbled disarray. Please, please, he pleads silently to no one in particular. Please let them be in time! Yet now he runs with hope as well as desperation. Now he runs with the Lord of the West at his heels, and the Lady Yavanna. If anyone can set things right it is these two who now run with him with such urgency. Please, please, let them be in time!
Aule's jaw clenches tight as Eonwe's words fall upon his ears, like blows raining upon his head. With each insult spoken the fists held clenched at his sides rise more and more as his wrath roars through him. He shakes his head to clear his vision of the red film of rage that seems to blur it. Finding his voice at last, he roars, "Why you insolent puppy!"
Nienna rushes forward to protect Aule. Throwing an arm around him, she attempts to squeeze herself between the two angry men."It's not true!" Nienna retorts angrily. Her eyes are still stinging. "This vile creature doesn't know what he is talking about. He doesn't know anything. Don't!" she cries desperately. "Don't fight! Just … ," she looks over her shoulder at Eonwe, "… just go!"
Smoothly, easily, Eonwe steps to the side, neatly avoiding the distraught Nienna. "Puppy, am I?" His control breaks, seeing the Vala of Compassion so brought low as to rush to Aule's side and wrap her arms about him, like a common mortal camp follower, selling her wares to one who neither knows or cares more for her than what she offers in the dark of night. "Thus speaks the snake in our midst." And with his words, he raises his hand to strike the Smith.
Yavanna's feet drag as she forces herself to follow Manwë deeper below the Halls of Mandos. Again she pauses a moment, her head tilted and listening. She can hear something. Voices! Muffled by the rock in between, but voices, raised voices. Aulë! That is Aulë's voice! She hurries on, overtaking the others as they round yet another corner in this seemingly never-ending labyrinth of corridors under the Halls of the Dead. Now the voices are louder. Hair streaming behind her, she sprints down the last corridor that leads to the open doors of the chamber that had once held that despised one, Melkor. There! There is Aulë! Despite itself her heart hammers in her chest a moment before she fully takes in the scene before her. Yes, there is Aulë, and Eonwë and.. Nienna. Nienna as she'd never seen her before. Nienna, clinging to Aulë! Her feet that had propelled her so eagerly down the corridor now turn to lead, and she stops short of entering the chamber, her hands hanging limp by her sides, her eyes limpid with pain as she watches the scene unfold before her.
Following the Maia with renewed vigour, the Lord of the West hurries through the maze of corridors. "Eonwe, at last!" He is unsure whether to be glad or anxious, but he has to know. Yavanna overtakes him around a corner, but after a time she stops before an open doorway. The doors to Melkor's old prison. At last, he is here! Manwe approaches and stands beside Yavanna. Over the Ages, Manwë Súlimo, Lord of the West and Breath of Arda had seen many things, momentous, small, joyous and evil, but nothing, nothing could prepare him for the sight before them now.
> Next
Eonwe turns his gaze from the Maker to the Valle of Compassion, his eyes still bright, and his lips twist into a bitter smile. "Lady Nienna, she who offers comfort and compassionate care to those in dire distress. Who, my Lady, is in need of your gentle embraces and sweet tears this night?" His hands curls into fists, and his gaze slides back to Aule.
Aule watches Nienna as she plays with her looks. He takes great pleasure in her delight in the physical world and her physical body. His frown deepens as the doors of the chamber open and two of his serving Maiar enter. He turns to watch them carry out their duties, untrusting and suspicious, as he was of all these days save the Vala by his side. His eyes narrow as he watches them. There is something.. something about the leading Maia. His walk is wrong. His demeanor is wrong. And something else. He folds his arms as he watches him. There was something familiar about him. But what is it? And now, now not only does he lack the proper demeanor for one in such lofty presence, but he dares to turn and speak! Shocked at first at the audicity, Aulë is slow to realise just who stands so cunningly disguised before him.
Nienna lurches to her feet, and strides angrily to the impudent servant. "Never," she breathes fiercely, "never has any Maia so spoken to a Vala!"
Nyarnyarro stares in growing horror at the Maker's face. Never has he seen a look of such hatred upon another as he now sees upon that of his master as he recognises the one who stands before him. It is wrong. He glances around the chamber, taking in the Lady Nienna lounging indulgently on an opulent couch, the silk and satin draped bed. It is just all wrong. And it is time it stopped.
He turns his gaze to his companion. Eonwë stands tall and proud before the Smith, unflinching. Yes, it is time someone set things to rights, but Eonwë could not do it alone. Not against an Ainu. And he will not have to do it alone, not if Nyarnyaro has anything to do with it. He is only one Maia, true, but he has a voice. A voice that could call others to the Herald's aid. Casting one last look at the other Maia he begins to cautiously edge his way from the chamber. He has fought at this one's back before. He will seek help from the other Maiar here at Mandos, and together they will fight at his back again, and fight he knew they must. He casts one last glance at the thunderous expression on the Smith's face as he slips through the still open doors. Yes, fight they must.
Yavanna's hair swirls restlessly around her shoulders as she follows the Lord of the West down yet another long corridor. The air here is musty and dank for by now they are well below the surface. The hallways are only dimly lit, the flames of the torches dance and leap as they stir the air with their passing, casting eerie shadows ahead of them upon the cold stone walls. "It is as though they know," she thinks as she hurries on. "It is as though they feel the same fear and hurry us on." She stops, rooted to the spot as the realisation hits her. Yes, she is afraid. Afraid of what she will find at the end of this day. Afraid of the very answers she has sought so urgently.
Manwe, lost in his thoughts of unforeseen chaos before him now, stops abruptly when his companion halts. The spirits of the dead flow along the halls, much like a slight breeze of the air. But the air is laden with a chill demeanor. They have descended deep into the Halls of the Dead, and urgency drives them on. But this pause surprises him. He waits a moment, but his anxiety builds. "Yavanna, why do you halt in this pursuit? Do you see something ahead?" Manwe asks worriedly. If indeed something were visible ahead, Manwe wondered now about his very perceptions. He awaits her response, hoping his worries are unfounded.
Yavanna gives a small shake of her head as she looks up at Manwë. She sees the same fear reflected in his eyes. Her heart goes out to him in that moment, for she knows the outcome of this journey is as important to him as it is to her. "I.. no, no, it is nothing." she attempts a reassuring smile as she hurries to catch up with him. "Come, my Lord, let us not delay."
Aule does not take his eyes from the Maia standing so boldly before him as he answers Nienna. "Yes, there has been one. One upstart puppy of a Maia who has spoken so boldly before." His eyes narrow even more now as he looks closely at the one standing so boldly before him. "And I think now he has taken to not only boldness and disrespect, but now, deceit as well, have you not, Eonwë? For it IS Eonwë who stands before us now?' He lets his eyes roam the other insolently before giving a snort, 'I must say I approve of your new look. It suits better your role as lackey to your betters. But you have yet to learn the proper demeanour, I see."
Nienna 's eyes widen as she takes in Aulë's words. She looks from one to the other. "This is Eonwe? You did not exaggerate when you told me of his insolence and treachery. How could he have sunk so low?" She turns back to Eonwe. "Get thee gone! I will not have thy foul presence here!"
"Never has one of the Valar so betrayed herself and us all," Eonwe answers Nienna, his gazes locked upon the face of the Maker. He takes a step forward, toward the Maker, his voice low and quiet, yet it rises up and fills the room with a cold heat. "Deceit," he says, and lets the word settle about them, like a cold mist around the sacred mountains. "Yes, You drink and eat deceit, and feed it to others." He juts his chin in the direction of the other Vala. "You have poured it into her ear, like a poison. You have fashioned it into a whip with which to beat my brother and sister Maiar into submission. Deceit is all you would see..."he pauses and spits out the word, "Maker." He takes in a breath. "For that is what you are best about." And Eonwe casts off the disguise like a used blanket and takes the form that has always been his.
Nyarnyaro's feet slap hard against the stone floor, echoing hollowly in the empty corridor. As soon as he is free of the chamber he shall set out as fast as his legs could carry him in search of help. Now as he runs his mind keeps playing out the scene he had just witnessed. He must get help and he must get help fast! So preoccupied is he, and not expecting to encounter others at such a deep level of Mandos, that he is completely taken by surprise as he rounds a corner and runs full tilt into a strong, muscular body. Shaken from his preoccupation he looks up as he clutches at the other, as intent on saving himself from falling as saving them. "Lord Manwë!" he gasps, his voice a mixture of shock and relief, "Thank Eru, you have come!"Shocked, Manwe grabs the one before him as he runs into him. After hearing the gasping voice, he steadies himself and the Maia. "Here now, what is the rush?" he asks. "Steady on, slow down, what is so urgent?" He recognizes the panic on the Maia's face.
"Nyarnyaro!" Yavanna gasps, for even in the gloom and in his disheveled state, she recognises the Maia who has served her husband faithfully for many Ages. But this isn't the calm, self-assured Maia she has known for so long. Never has she seen him so perturbed. The urgency of his manner and tone sends a shiver of dread through her. She looks up at Manwë, her eyes huge and luminous, "He serves Aulë, my husband."
Aule moves to stand protectively by Nienna's side as Eonwe takes a step forward. "I see you have gone deaf as well now. Did you not hear the lady's command? I reinforce it with my own. You bring insults and hate to our home. I give you one chance to be gone or face the consequences. Be Gone!"Eonwe gestures around the chamber as he speaks. "Home?" he asks, voice thick with sarcasm and disdain. "The abandoned stone prison of your fallen and twisted brother, he who would have corrupted and destroyed all Eru wished called into being? Call you it home?" He folds his hands across his chest. "Nay, Maker, upon reflection, you are aright in that. It should be thy home, from this time evermore, such as it was HIS home. For I see me you are no better. Here you speak of home and cosy to a Lady not your own, while with traitorous and painful words you spurn and torment your own sweet wife. Yes. your home should be these walls, but never should they be the Lady Nienna's, for she is but a pawn in your vile and lustful desires."
Nienna sputters and fumes, unsure which of these vile statements to respond to first. With angry tears in her eyes, she simply shouts, "Out! GET OUT!" and points shakily toward the still-open door.
Nyarnyaro takes a deep breath to steady himself even as he continues to shift from foot to foot with impatience. Unable to restrain himself, he blurts out, "My Lady Yavanna, my Lord Manwë, I must tell you. My Lord Aulë and the Lady Nienna are down in the chamber, the one.. the one that used to be Melkor's cell. They.. they are living there and now.." He pauses and flushes with embarrassment as he glances at the Lady Yavanna, embarrassed to be the bearer of such news, yet the urgency of the situation compels him to continue. '"And now, My Lord, Eonwë, your Herald, is down there with them, and he has called my Lord 'traitor,' and I have come to seek help, for I fear my Lord will do him harm. Please! You must come. You must hurry! There is no time to waste. Please!"
"Eonwe is here!" Manwe says aloud. He suspected he was, but here is telling evidence of his presence. His feelings change from despair to hope. The thought of seeing his Herald again brings a moment of joy to his heart before the doubt and worry come flooding back. Questions whirl in his mind. "What is this about Aulë and Nienna? What has this to do with my Herald?" His need for answers is moved by the Maia's urgency. He says, "Lead us to them."
Yavanna sees the joy flash across Manwë's face as he hears Nyarnyaro's words. So Eonwë is here. But the Maia's words bring no joy to her own heart. Aulë is here also. Aulë, living with Nienna. Aulë whom Eonwë has now called 'traitor' to his face. It is not only Yavanna's heart that feels turned to stone. It is her entire being. Her body feels as cold and hard as the walls around them. Her face feels rigid and frozen, like it will never smile again. Living with Nienna? What did he mean, Aulë is living with Nienna? But the others are moving off hurriedly down the corridor, and she must follow. As with the Lord of the West, she must have answers, but she doubts there will be any joyous reunion at the end of the day, such as she had hoped there would be between Manwe and Eonwë. No. For her there will be nothing but dust as her world crumbles around her.
Eonwe unfolds his arms and gentles his voice as he is moved by the tearfilled voice. "Come with me, Lady Nienna. Take my hand, and let me lead you out of this befouled den of shame." He stretches out his hand to the Vala of Compassion. "You do not have to besmirch your reputation and your honor so, my Lady. Come, let me take you to Lord Manwe, please." Aule strides swiftly across the small distance separating he and Eonwe. His hands are clenched fists held taut by his sides, and his nostrils flare wide as he glares at the insolent Maia. "Do not touch her! You come here and dare to judge us? Dare to judge ME! You, who are nothing but Manwe's errand boy, his milksop messenger, a lowly Maia, you dare to judge your betters? You come here and pose as so pure and righteous, but it is no virtue that drives your words. Look into your heart, if you have one, Eonwe and see the truth. It is envy. Yes, envy! Envy and bitterness! Envy that you have been denied love throughout your life. Bitterness that all you do with your time is carry tales for Manwe, run and do Manwe's bidding. You probably spoon the food into his mouth and wipe his posterior for him too, when there is need. Hurry home, Eonwe, back to Taniquetil. Your lord might have need of you. Scurry home like the cur you are, for you are not wanted here!"
Nienna draws back from Eonwe. For a moment, the tone of his voice reminded her of something from long ago. Something she can't quite remember. But Aule's rebuke drives that from her mind.
Eonwe drops his hand and casts one last look to the Lady Nienna. In his eyes, undisguised, is a mingling of regret and sorrow. His mouth had softened with his words, but as he turns to Aule, it firms into a tight line, the eyes now bright and sharp. He, too, takes a step forward, toward the Maker. No gentle voice answers the taunts, but one that is low, almost a growl, thick with undisguised disgust. "I should pity you," he answers, "Maker, Smith, Lord of tiny misshapen creatures you once hoped would steal a place upon the world intended for Eru's bright creations. I should pity the worm that walks upon two legs, that thinks..." he pauses and drops his voice lower, "of only his own small worm betwixt those legs." He brought his voice back up. "I should pity he who has such a high place and can do naught but keep it by standing upon the backs of my brothers and sisters. Maker?" he hisses the last word. "It should be you are called Aule the Impotent. Aule the misspent. Aule the Bent. He who had the greatest of destinies but would rather crawl upon his belly and follow his own dark brother in treachery. Thy true Lady is ill served by such as you. I cannot think me but she would be better served with any true Vala but you."
Nyarnyaro needs no further urging and sets off back down the way he had come. He needs not glance back to see if the others follow for he can hear their urgent footfalls behind him as he runs. Thoughts tumble through his mind in jumbled disarray. Please, please, he pleads silently to no one in particular. Please let them be in time! Yet now he runs with hope as well as desperation. Now he runs with the Lord of the West at his heels, and the Lady Yavanna. If anyone can set things right it is these two who now run with him with such urgency. Please, please, let them be in time!
Aule's jaw clenches tight as Eonwe's words fall upon his ears, like blows raining upon his head. With each insult spoken the fists held clenched at his sides rise more and more as his wrath roars through him. He shakes his head to clear his vision of the red film of rage that seems to blur it. Finding his voice at last, he roars, "Why you insolent puppy!"
Nienna rushes forward to protect Aule. Throwing an arm around him, she attempts to squeeze herself between the two angry men."It's not true!" Nienna retorts angrily. Her eyes are still stinging. "This vile creature doesn't know what he is talking about. He doesn't know anything. Don't!" she cries desperately. "Don't fight! Just … ," she looks over her shoulder at Eonwe, "… just go!"
Smoothly, easily, Eonwe steps to the side, neatly avoiding the distraught Nienna. "Puppy, am I?" His control breaks, seeing the Vala of Compassion so brought low as to rush to Aule's side and wrap her arms about him, like a common mortal camp follower, selling her wares to one who neither knows or cares more for her than what she offers in the dark of night. "Thus speaks the snake in our midst." And with his words, he raises his hand to strike the Smith.
Yavanna's feet drag as she forces herself to follow Manwë deeper below the Halls of Mandos. Again she pauses a moment, her head tilted and listening. She can hear something. Voices! Muffled by the rock in between, but voices, raised voices. Aulë! That is Aulë's voice! She hurries on, overtaking the others as they round yet another corner in this seemingly never-ending labyrinth of corridors under the Halls of the Dead. Now the voices are louder. Hair streaming behind her, she sprints down the last corridor that leads to the open doors of the chamber that had once held that despised one, Melkor. There! There is Aulë! Despite itself her heart hammers in her chest a moment before she fully takes in the scene before her. Yes, there is Aulë, and Eonwë and.. Nienna. Nienna as she'd never seen her before. Nienna, clinging to Aulë! Her feet that had propelled her so eagerly down the corridor now turn to lead, and she stops short of entering the chamber, her hands hanging limp by her sides, her eyes limpid with pain as she watches the scene unfold before her.
Following the Maia with renewed vigour, the Lord of the West hurries through the maze of corridors. "Eonwe, at last!" He is unsure whether to be glad or anxious, but he has to know. Yavanna overtakes him around a corner, but after a time she stops before an open doorway. The doors to Melkor's old prison. At last, he is here! Manwe approaches and stands beside Yavanna. Over the Ages, Manwë Súlimo, Lord of the West and Breath of Arda had seen many things, momentous, small, joyous and evil, but nothing, nothing could prepare him for the sight before them now.
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