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Manwe looks thoughtfully at Aule. He appears to be totally controlled by the influence of the chamber. The Lord of the West thinks that he should be the one to convince Aule to come out of the chamber, and he must do it himself and alone. Perhaps without the influence of Eonwe, who is obviously at odds with the Maker. If he were alone, he might succeed in convincing him to come. He turns to Eonwe. "My herald, please escort the Lady Nienna to the upper floor. You need not be concerned for my safety. You and Nienna must both respect my authority in this."
Eonwe stares at the Maker for a few moments more, his gaze unwavering, although when Aule yelled out his "No!" the very stones here beneath Mandos seem to shudder in answer. He slides his gaze over to the Vala of Compassion, standing there, half clothed, her hand dropping from the motion of reaching for the Smith. The Chief of the Maiar looks at her expression, but cannot decide for himself what is writ there. Then, dropping his gaze, he lifts blue eyes to meet the gaze of the Lord of the West. "My Lord," he begins, and lifts his hands, palms up as though to beseech the Lord of the West. "I would for all of Eru's creation to not leave your side," he murmurs, his voice soft, gentle. Then as he watches the face of the Lord he has served and serves still, he clears his throat and speaks again. Dropping his hands to his side, it is the voice of the Herald who speaks, who answers his Lord as he has always. 
"Yes, My Lord," he says, and the voice is the neutral, calm tones of the Herald. His gaze lingers a moment more before he turns to Nienna. "If it pleases my Lady Nienna to come with me. We shall await the pleasure of the Lord of the West above." He extends a hand pointing toward the direction in which Yavanna had left but a short time ago. He turns his body to the side, so that she may pass him.
Nienna frowns, unwilling to be parted from Aulë, unwilling to directly disobey her King. For a heartbeat she hesitates. Two heartbeats. Once again she reaches out a hand toward Aulë. Her eyes wide, she says in a plaintive whisper, "Will you not come, dearest?" Yet Aulë's eyes are not on her at all. With pained eyes, she steps bleakly past Eonwë, toward the hall beyond.Aule's eyes do not waver from the Lord of the West as he speaks to the others. For Aule they could be ants on the ground for all the notice he takes of them. Nothing, nothing matters but the answer he awaits from Manwe. Impatiently he wills the others to be gone. "Listen to me!' he wills silently as he waits. "By Eru's light, you must listen to me!"
Eonwe turns on his heels and follows a step behind her. Quietly he follows her until they are at the steps leading up to the upper halls of Mandos. Reaching out , he gently touches two fingers against her hand closest to him. "My Lady Nienna, perhaps you would like to adorn thyself in more fitting attire for the Vala of Compassion." He stops, his cheeks coloring. "Let the Maiar see you as you always have been, my Lady," he adds and ducks his head, In his chest, his heart squeezes, for he now remembers her as she has been before, gentle words and quiet touch, an oasis of love and tenderness for the Children of Eru and the Maia alike.
Aule 's eyes narrow thoughtfully as at last he shifts is gaze and watches the retreating forms of Eonwë and Nienna. A part of him is uneasy seeing the Herald so close to his love, but he trusts in the pureness of Nienna's heart. He knows this one will not be so easily swayed by honeyed words as had Yavanna. However, his thoughts of Nienna are fleeting, and she disappears from them as soon as she rounds the corner of the corridor and disappears from his sight. There is something much more compelling that needs his attention. "My Lord.." he begins and has to stop to clear his throat at the sudden constriction within it. "My Lord, you cannot mean to destroy the chamber. Please. You cannot."
Manwë turns to the Maker. He hears his anguish in his voice. Aulë always was sure of voice, but Manwe sees now the torment within him. He thinks for a moment as the others depart, and they are left alone. Manwë's curiosity and gentle side is revealed. "Why do you not want the chamber destroyed?" He desires more knowledge as to how his evil brother managed to corrupt two Valar and a Maia. Such knowledge may prove useful in the future should any more of Melkor's old devices surface again. Plus his memory flashes back to the evil flowers. The Maker has a lot of explaining to do. "This is your chance to speak up.""Why? Why is it so important to me?" Aulë's voice is at first incredulous that anyone would need ask such a question. But then, how would he know? So far away on Taniquetil, how would Manwë know all that has befallen the Maker in recent times? With nothing but Eonwë's poisonous whisperings in his ear, how could he know? Turning, he stands beside the Lord of the West and lets his gaze rest upon the chamber.
Aule holds out a hand and does a sweeping gesture to draw the other's attention to the room. "This room, this chamber," he begins. "It is so much more than somewhere to sleep, somewhere to live. It has welcomed me as the home I've never truly had. Here I have found a love such as my wife has never shown me. Here I am safe from everything. Nothing can harm me here. No one doubts me here. I have no need to prove my worth or my integrity. Here.." his eyes sweep lovingly around the chamber, "here is where I belong."
"Where you belong?" Manwë says gaping "You belong in your place among the Valar. You belong with me." He could not believe how corrupted the words of Aulë are. But this device of mind control has been used by the dark powers even after Melkor's time. "This cold chamber is not where you belong, Maker of the Valar! You belong with .." Manwë bites his tongue at the thought of mentioning Yavanna. Aule would have to know, but now is not the time. "You belong with me as my trusted aide and brother."
Aule's breath hisses sharply in between his lips as he hears Manwë's words. The raised hand that had been indicating the chamber freezes in place for a moment as he goes utterly still. Then achingly slowly, in a gesture more befitting an old, old man rather than the strong physical body of the Maker, it drops to his side. Just as slowly he turns to face the Lord of the West. Mixed emotions chase each other across his face like clouds across the sun on a windy day. Hope chases uncertainty, followed quickly by joy, with doubt panting swiftly on its heels, but no, there they were, the words he had so desperately wanted to hear: "You belong with me, as my trusted aide and brother." He shakes his head a little like one waking from a dream, his eyes blinking rapidly with the force of the emotions within. When he speaks, his voice is husky and broken as though from long disuse, "I.. I do." he says simply. "It is all I have ever truly wanted. But.. but Eonwë said.. and Yavanna and.."
Aule stops and blinks again, rubbing his forehead as though to settle his thoughts.
Manwë sees Aulë's side. Eonwë had called him a traitor. But that can wait. He needs Aulë's trust now. Gently, he says, "Trust in me with this, Aulë, and I shall trust in you when I hear your words after it is done. You have my word." Manwë pauses, hoping his words connect to the Maker. "I implore you, Aulë, to join the others at the surface and to trust me to do what is right. For I trust you to do what is right for all of us."
Aule looks deeply into Manwë's clear blue eyes for long moments. Those eyes have seen the passing of Ages, carrying with them events both big and small, but always when he has looked upon them, truth and justice has shone from them like a beacon. It is no different now. Turning his head slightly, he gazes back at the chamber. It seems to shimmer and shift before his eyes, beckoning him almost. He stands and stares at it and the silence grows. Second follows second and become minutes that follow minutes, but there is no sound. At last Aulë inhales a deep breath and lets it out slowly. His shoulders square, and he turns again to look upon that serene and patient gaze of the Lord of the West. "I trust you," he says simply, "And you may trust me." With a slight bow of his head in a salute of respect, he turns and walks up the corridor.
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