Summoning the Blue Wizards

Not a wind blows across the face of Middle Earth that does not flow through the halls of Mighty Manwe, Lord of the West, Greatest of all the Valar. And with each breeze is carried a million sighs, a million cries, a million laughs, a million hopes and prayers. Eonwe breathes in, though the action is more reflex than need, and the smoke of a fire in a place called the Shire fills his nostrils with the aroma of seasoned tobacco and half green wood. He turns his head as his boot strikes the ancient marble, leaving not a sound, and instead his ears can pick out the gentle notes of an elven love song, far, far to the east, the words tender, aching.  He casts his gaze ahead of up and then up, and for a moment, his eyes watch the twinkling of all the lanterns spread like jewels across the twilight sky, and an idle thought strikes him: where is Ilmare? Which star has drawn her fancy? Then he lowers his gaze from the canopy of the heavens, and instead his thoughts fill of  the one he serves, who has summoned him to this his Hall. 

The sweet scent of the incense as he enters...

 

The sweet scent of the incense as he enters, choosing by custom the right curving hallway, has the effect of filling the Maiar's heart with a sense of peace.  Before he has reached the hall's end, his blue eyes scan the open, spacious room for the figure of the Lord of the West, and his greeting is already upon his lips as he crosses quickly to his Lord's side and drops to a knee. "My Lord Manwe, " He says, his voice rich and full. "I am here at your call.  Tell me how I shall serve."

Eonwe...drops to a knee. "My Lord Manwe..."

"My Herald." Manwe beckons to Eonwe. Manwe rises and steps down to his herald Maia. His thoughts go back to when Eonwe was sent from his side, to be cleansed of the foul black magic of the Chambers below Mandos. That incident nearly cost Manwe his Herald, he whom had been loyal for many ages of Ea, all that is. The Eonwe that is here now is not clouded by the decay of Melkor.  He is whole and dependable and loyal. "Rise," Manwe says and extends his hand. "There is a matter that needs tending to in the mortal world. Something, I know you will do without error."

"There is a matter that needs tending..."

 

The Herald of the Lord of the West lifts his gaze to the hand extended to him, and at the gentle words spoken, his heart gives a leap. Created he was, for when the world was formless, to serve and be ever near the Breath of Arda, and in his heart burns a love deep and abiding, different than any mortal being could encompass. His own hand reaches up and clasps that of his Lord as he rises to his feet, his  eyes resting upon the face of the Lord of the West. "I shall endeavor to serve  My Lord, such as befits him," he responds, the winds of the world swirling about them: sounds, smells upon each tendril.  "What is this matter, My Lord Manwe?"

...his mind drifts back....

Manwe straightens up and his mind drifts back, many years ago to a distant point in time. To the day when five of the greatest Maiar stood in this very hall. The Maiar that shed back their power, diminished their might and knowledge and brought upon them flesh. Those that would then feel fear, care, and weariness. They were the emissaries; the Istari they would come to be called. One clothed himself in grey; Olorin, called by the free folk, Gandalf. His task completed, he returned with the ring-bearer, Frodo, and the Noldor queen, Galadriel. One clothed in white. Curumo, Saruman the fallen, he who deceived and traitored the free peoples and fought for power, cast out of the order, and his spirit departed from Ea. Radagast Awendil the Brown, the friend of birds and animals. He keeps watch over the lands and wanders throughout them. Two others came to his call. They both clothed in Blue colour: Pallando and Alatar. "My herald, do you remember the day when the five emissaries were gathered here, clothed in grey, white, brown  and blue? They that went to Middle-earth to unite the free people against the darkness that rose in the East? The servant of Melkor, Sauron?"

"My herald, do you remember the day....?"

 

Eonwe watches as his Lord's face grows thoughtful for a time, silently waiting his Lord's silence.  Then, the Lord of the West speaks.  Listening, Eonwe nods in answer. "Well, I remember, my Lord.  For Olorin is again amongst my brethren, though Awendil, Pallendro, and Alatar dwell yet in Middle Earth. As for Sauron." Eonwe pauses, and his gaze grows cold at remembrance of the traitor, "Better his name be wiped from all memory for his monstrous acts." He pauses again, and his voice is one more rich and warm as he looks toward his Lord. "I remember the day they all went forth, my Lord, well."

 

His gaze grows cold at remembrance of the traitor.

 

"I had commanded Pallando and Alatar into the East of Middle-earth. I did this as I foresaw a time they will be needed. After the War, there would be remnants of the dark forces remaining in the mortal world. These forces would seek to destroy the elves for their part in the War. Already, the elves are in danger, I fear. It is time for the Blue Wizards to begin their task. It is my request of you, my Herald, to go to these wizards with my command to act. Through the language of the winds, I know the Teleri King, Olwe is sailing now with his companion for the coast of old Cardolan. There along the rocky coast lays the forest of Moire Taure, a remnant of the vast primeval forest that once covered Middle-earth. I fear they will be in great danger."

Manwe pauses a moment in thought before continuing. "Pallando and Alatar must continue to honour the stipulation by which they accepted their task. They must not directly interfere with Olwe or Nole's tasks and can not directly interact with them. They are to protect them and render assistance. They must not," he remembers the downfall of the Maia Curumo, "dominate them or subject them to their power." Looking up at Eonwe, he says, "I know you can find Alatar and Pallando and hasten them to the Moire Taure with all speed."

"I know you can find Alatar and Pallando..."

Eonwe bows his head and says, "Some among the Maiar, who know not the mind of my Lord or the Will of Eru in this mock Pallando and Alatar, saying they failed you and the Vala the Lord Oroome. That they allowed the evil that fell across Middle Earth to flourish and grow." He lifts his head, and glances at Lord Manwe.  "Yet obedient they have remained," he add softly before he adds. "Yes, My Lord, I can speedily deliver your command to them. Shall I, too, assist them to Moire Taure, as well?"

"Eonwe, I can trust your decision on the matter. If you feel their need of assistance, help them as you can. It is imperative they arrive there ahead of Olwe. As I said, I fear dark forces at work in the Moire Taure." Manwe bows his head in thought and then nods. "Yes, that is all."

Eonwe kneels before the Lord of the West.... 

Eonwe kneels before the Lord of the West, and bows his head.  "As my Lord wishes, so it shall be. The Will of the Valar be done." He rises to his feet and takes a step back from his Lord. "I shall ensure the two are there in Moire Taure, my Lord, before the Hope of the Valar and his boon companion arrive. And I shall be speedily, for," he pauses for a moment, and the love and reverence for his Lord enfuses his face and gives his words a deep warmth they never had before he entered the dread chambers of Melkor's bespelled prison below the Halls of Mandos, "For, my Lord, I crave nothing so much as to be at your side, serving you." Then, like the winds surrounding  them, he is gone, quick as thought.