Many thanks to @BeaconHill for betareading.
-x-x-x-
Elves ringed us as Olórin led me out of the keep. Three horses stood grazing in the courtyard, all of them noble Amannic Olombor, the horses whose descendants had become the Mearas of the Rohirric plains.
All three had been readied with saddle and tack. Beside one stood another familiar face, grinning at us as we approached. Aiwendil—once known as Radagast the Brown—no longer wore a beard, and his auburn hair was a shaggy mane down to his shoulders.
"So?" he asked Olórin, looking me up and down. "Is it all as you hoped?"
Olórin smiled slightly. "Not all," he said. "Taylor carries dire tidings from the realms of Men. We must speak with the Valar. Come—we shall tell you more as we ride."
Aiwendil nodded and leapt into the saddle gracefully. "Then let us be off!" he said brightly. "I hope you have not forgotten how to ride in your long absence—Taylor, was it? An odd name."
I couldn't keep the smile off my face as Olórin offered me one of the horses before mounting his own. "Not so odd, among the people I've come to call mine," I said, stepping into the stirrups and swinging my leg over the saddle.
"Lord Elrond," Olórin called out to the stern-looking Peredhel watching us from near the keep's outer gates. "I ask that you sound out the old horn-calls and assemble the old banners."
Elrond's eyes widened. "Do we march to war?" he asked, and though his voice was steady, the words cut through the suddenly thick silence as the assembled elves waited with baited breath for the response.
Olórin glanced at me. "I have not the authority to order that we should march," he said. "But I think it likely that such an order shall come soon." His chin rose proudly, his dark hair glistening in the sunlight. "As once the last Elves in Middle-Earth came to the defense of the kingdoms of Men, so now we here in Aman must return to the defense of those who remained when Arda was sundered. My heart tells me that we will march, because we
must."
Elrond nodded sharply. "Then I shall send out messengers," he said.
"Send word also to the Thorondor's Eyrie," called Aiwendil. "Only he can bring word to your esteemed father."
Elrond's eyes tightened in a complex mixture of emotions. He nodded wordlessly. The ring of Elves parted for us as we rode out of the courtyard and further into the West.
It was a long distance from Tirion to Valimar, but distance and time worked differently in the Undying Lands. Back on Earth Bet, it would have taken days on horseback to cross the distance. Here, the Sun barely moved in the sky. Still, there was time to speak as we rode.
"I have to admit," I said to the two former Istari as our horses bore us along the plain, as a forest of rich emerald-green passed by on our right. "I didn't expect to be, well,
welcomed by anyone. Let alone either of you."
Olórin gave me one of his thoughtful, almost nostalgic smiles. "We who once formed the Heren Istarion are united in loss," he said. "We know what it is to have a friend lose his way. I have long hoped that those who went astray might one day return to us."
Curumo. Saruman. I swallowed. "I am sorry," I said roughly.
"Was it you who pressed the Palantír into our brother's hands?" Aiwendil asked, uncharacteristically solemn.
"No, but I was the one who showed him the visions that so terrified him," I said.
"We were
all afraid," said Aiwendil, lips twisted in a wry, tired smile. "And we all failed in one way or another. I retreated into my woods, hiding from the mortality of Men. Morinehtar and Rómestámo made compromises in their efforts in the East and South, though they never strayed entirely from their mission. Only Olórin never strayed even a little, and he
died for it. And only Curumo ever turned his back entirely on our purpose."
"His flaws were twofold," said Olórin thoughtfully. "There was fear, yes, and yes, that fear was allowed to grow into cowardice. But truly—and it has taken me a long time to understand this—I think his greatest flaw was
envy."
"Envy for me?" I asked. Curumo and I had both been students under Aulë, once, and though I had been more powerful, he at least had remained
loyal. At least until his fall in the late Third Age.
Olórin shook his head sadly. "No," he said. "Envy for
me."
"We all envied Olórin a little," Aiwendil told me with a conspiratorial grin, slightly marred by loss. "You would not know, but he was originally meant to lead us. In his humility, he worried that
he would be too afraid to lead us well, so the position of White Wizard was given to Curumo. But in the end, only one of us stood at the Black Gate on that final day."
Olórin looked embarrassed, but also musing. I remembered that about him—he had always spoken little and thought much. "Your presence, Taylor," he said, and my name was finally starting to sound natural on his lips, "gives me hope. If you can return to us, perhaps Curumo shall too. One day."
"I hope so," I said.
-x-x-x-
We reached Valimar after what felt like several hours, but the sun had not moved even one hour's worth of distance across the sky. The city's spires of silver and gold rose higher than the tallest of Earth Bet's skyscrapers.
We rode past the city's gates at a gallop. I followed Olórin as he sped through the streets, heedless of the Elves around us as he led us directly across the city's main thoroughfare. We crossed the city almost without slowing and passed through the western gate. I saw the two still-glimmering stumps of the Two Trees atop the mound of Ezellohar, keeping them on our right as we turned southward towards the great ring of fifteen standing obelisks of stone.
Mâchananaškad, which the Elves had called
Máhanaxar, the Ring of Doom. I remembered when Melkor had been judged in that circle of stones. I had heard secondhand of the judgement of Fëanor. I hoped desperately that I would be judged less harshly than either of those two.
We slowed as we approached the standing stones. By the time we passed between them into the center of the ring we were barely at a trot. We came to a halt near the great stone orb at the heart of the Ring and dismounted.
One of the Valar was already seated at the stone. I blinked in shock when I noticed him, for he was perfectly still as we passed directly beside his throne. His eyes matched his robes, which were black as pitch, and his skin was a dusky color, almost gray. His eyes pierced me like a pin through the wings of a butterfly.
Shaking, I bowed. Beside me, Olórin and Aiwendil did the same. "Námo," I whispered in reverence—and, if I was honest with myself, a little fear.
"Taylor," said Námo, whom the elves called Mandos, his deep voice sonorous and unsettling. "It has been a long time since last you walked these shores."
I blinked, my head craning up on my neck to look up at him without breaking my bow. "You know my new name?" I asked.
"I do," he said, but did not elaborate. "I have already called the others. They shall arrive soon, and we may begin." He gestured with one hand. "Rise."
I straightened. "Do you know why I'm here?"
"Yes," he said. "Not by prophecy, but by word of mouth. Still, it will fall to you to give an accounting of your business to the others." His eyes darted up to look behind me. "I trust that their eyes will be clear."
I turned and was struck dumb. My hands shook.
Aulë's chosen form was the same as it had been all those years ago. His beard and hair were thick and red, his eyes were brilliant blue. Back then, his eyes had seemed unnatural. Suddenly I realized that they were exactly the electric color of Dragon's. Right now, they looked watery.
"Mairon…?" he murmured.
I winced. "Mairë," I corrected. "Or—Taylor is the name that most means me, now. But… yes. It's me."
"You have come back?" he asked, nearly in a whisper. "Returned to us?"
He didn't mean my physical presence in Aman. "I have."
Slowly, Aulë lowered himself into his seat. His eyes stayed fixed on me, as if he were afraid that I would disappear if he blinked. "Welcome home," he said hoarsely. "My friend."
I swallowed. Part of me wanted to run to him and embrace him, to bury my head in his chest and weep. But the others were already starting to arrive. To my surprise, the next to arrive was
Ulmo. He glided across the grassland like a wave over the water, flowing into his seat to Aulë's left. "Taylor," he said, nodding.
I blinked. "You never left," I realized. "You've been aware of me this whole time."
"Since the Leviathan's attack some months ago," he said. "I knew not what to think until recently. It was more than a little worrying to see Rings of Power upon the hands of Men once more."
"You did not tell me of this," Aulë accused.
"Of course not," Ulmo shook his head. "I had no way of knowing whether this was the work of Ilúvatar, or of Melkor. Had you seen Taylor's actions over the past months, you would have been just as uncertain. I knew not whether I should give you cause for hope or for fear."
I looked down. "I've made more than a few mistakes," I acknowledged.
"Yes," said Ulmo grimly. "You have. We shall discuss it."
"Nonetheless," said Námo, "you come highly recommended."
I blinked at him, but he did not elaborate. A faint hope began to stir in my chest, but I thrust it aside. I didn't want to think about it right now.
Tulkas was next, a scowl on his face. Nessa followed behind him, concern in her eyes as she watched her husband stalk forward. "Sauron!" he growled as he stepped into the ring. He did not sit, instead standing before his throne, glaring down at me.
There was a time when I would have quailed, shaking like a leaf before the wrath of Tulkas Astaldo. I was surprised to find that what fear I felt was muted. "Lord Tulkas," I greeted, bowing. "I am here to submit myself to judgment."
He grunted. As I straightened, I saw suspicion in his eyes, fury, and old pain. "It is a late hour indeed to show penitence," he said darkly. "Why should we trust you? It would not be the first time this council was lied to by one of our own kind."
I took a deep breath, but Námo spoke before I could. "There will be time to discuss Taylor's guilt and sincerity once the others have arrived," he said.
Tulkas turned his glower on the Lord of Mandos. "Taylor?"
"Her name," said Námo evenly. "Sit, Tulkas. The others will be here soon."
Tulkas's lip curled in angry derision. "So she denies the name
Sauron?" he asked. "Why should she be allowed to decide this? That name was given for good reason. It is not for its bearer to choose whether it be cast off."
"No," I agreed. Tulkas' eyes snapped back to me. "I was born into the name Taylor, and it's important to me. But in addition, I took the name
Mairë as an aspiration. It isn't for me to decide whether I have lived up to it."
Tulkas glared down at me for a moment, his eyes searching. I stood before him, unbending, meeting his gaze steadily. I had nothing to hide. Finally he sat, still studying me. "You have transformed," he acknowledged. "Never before have you taken the shape of a woman, or of a Man at all. And as I recall, your ability to take fair form was stripped from you entirely after the breaking of Númenor."
"It was," I confirmed. "And after the destruction of the One Ring at the end of the Third Age, I was banished from the West and left to fade into nothingness. As you can see," I raised my left hand, the green letters of the Tenth Penitent flaring upon my ring finger, "much has changed."
Tulkas' eyes narrowed as he looked at the Ring. "It is Discordant," he observed, but it was not an accusation.
"Of course," I said. "It is a Ring of Power. But the nature of a thing is far less important than the cause it chooses to back."
Tulkas leaned back in his seat. His eyes met mine. "An old lesson," he said. His anger seemed to have abated, though suspicion was clear on his face. "You chose the wrong cause more than once. I am slow to forgive, but I shall heed the wisdom of this council. Taylor."
"As you should," said a stern voice behind me. I turned quickly, and suddenly realized that while my focus had been on Tulkas, the rest of the Valar had arrived. It was Manwë, King of the Valar, who had spoken. His brilliant blue eyes were hard and stern as he gazed down at me from his stone seat. Under that gaze I found the fear which had been so absent when faced with Tulkas stirring again. If any Ainu had the capacity to judge me, it was Manwë himself. But I stood firm and met his eyes. He held my gaze for a moment, then turned to Námo. "You summoned us here, Námo," he said. "I think it fitting that you explain our purpose."
The Doomsman met his King's eyes steadily. "I have not come to judge Taylor," he said evenly. "I called this gathering that she might deliver her message. If judgement is required for you to heed her, then judge quickly."
Manwë frowned, considering Námo, then looked around at the others. "I think we must at least decide whether Sauron–by whatever name she now goes–can be trusted to deliver any message to which we might wish to listen."
Námo leaned back. "Very well," he said. "I shall second the motion in the interest of haste. May Taylor have the opportunity to speak in her own defense?"
"Of course," said Manwë, his eyes turning back on me. "Speak, then. Your crimes are numerous and well-remembered. What defense have you?"
I swallowed. Before I could even collect my thoughts, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I glanced to the side and saw Olórin smiling encouragingly. My lips twitched up in return. I took a deep breath.
"I have no defense for the evil I have done," I said, meeting Manwë's eyes. "There can be no defense for such atrocities. I claim no justification—only repentance."
"How did you come to return to Aman?" asked Nienna softly. Her face was unreadable, but there was a softness in her eyes.
"I can only guess," I admitted. "I did not try nor expect to return. I did not cross the sea by ship. I passed here when my body perished on Earth."
"And the visage you take now is the same as the one you wore among Men?" asked Yavanna.
"It is," I confirmed. "I was born some sixteen years ago to a Man, and appeared for most of that time to be an ordinary girl. I only began to awaken to my powers, to the Song, a few months ago. I remembered my history even more recently."
"A strange story," said Oromë neutrally. "Perhaps even an unbelievable one."
"It's the truth."
"And what is it that killed you?" asked Varda from her place at Manwë's right. "Have Men become so powerful as to threaten a Maia?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but Ulmo cut me off. "It was decided," he said, fixing Manwë with a level stare, "that we would judge Taylor's past before discussing her message from Earth. So let us do so."
Nessa hummed momentarily before speaking. "There are no ships left that could pass into Aman," she said quietly. "Not since the Sundering of Arda in the Fifth Age. There is only one way left into these lands." She looked at Námo. "You told us that Sauron had been banished, that his spirit could not return Westward when his One Ring was destroyed. Was this true?"
"It was," Námo confirmed.
"Then that is all the endorsement I need," said Nessa, smiling at me. "There is no subterfuge, no false face, no lie or deceit that could circumvent the judgment of Eru Ilúvatar. If Taylor has returned to us, then it is His will that she do so."
"It could be that she was sent to us for punishment," Irmo said, his high, musical voice at odds with his harsh tone.
"As Doomsman of the Valar," Námo said dryly, "if you can suggest a punishment more dire than being banished to the Sundered Arda until the end of time, never again to take physical form or interact with another thinking being, I would be very interested to hear of it."
Irmo narrowed his eyes at Námo but said nothing more.
"Have any of you further questions?" Manwë asked.
"I have," said Ulmo, leaning forward. "Taylor. It was mere weeks ago that your name as
Annatar was whispered in terror. You have done wrong not only in ages past, but in these latter days also. If you claim to be repentant for your crimes as a servant of Melkor, what defense have you for those more recent?"
I winced, but it was only right that the bleakest period of my second life should come back to haunt me now. "I have no defense to justify those, either," I admitted. "But I can explain what happened. I came back to myself in pieces. My power returned first, and then my memories in two parts. When the first of my memories returned, I recalled most of my history, but as through a fog. I remembered the great battles of the War of Wrath. I remembered the might of Mordor. I remembered my desire to
control and
order the world—for its own good, or so I told myself.
"That was a dark time. I began building myself a fiefdom among men, seizing loyalty and control. The rest of my memories returned by the grace of Ilúvatar." I looked down at my boots. "Someone I loved refused to follow me into shadow," I said quietly, feeling my eyes prickle. I felt Olórin's hand rest encouragingly on my shoulder. Bolstered, I continued. "She resisted. In my foolish rage, I tried to kill her. Her sword broke, and the shards pierced me, just as they had in the Second Age. And I remembered then how my story had ended last time. I remembered what it meant to be Sauron, and I realized that I didn't
want that again. I wanted…"
I hesitated. How could I say it? How could I put that profound experience, that moment in the rain, into mere words? "I felt abandoned," I said, looking up and meeting Ulmo's sea-green eyes. "Even as early as the First Age, I had felt forsaken by Ilúvatar, and by the Valar. In that moment, I realized how wrong I had been. I suddenly saw Ilúvatar's part in every one of my failures. I understood at last that He had not forsaken me—I had forsaken
Him. And I wanted to return to His side, if he would have me. That was the moment when I became penitent. For all my crimes, recent and otherwise. I could have kept going as I was, at least until Ilúvatar intervened. I chose not to."
Ulmo considered me for a moment. "I see," he said at last, perfectly neutral.
"Then I cast the question of Sauron's judgment to a vote," said Manwë. "Is her repentance sincere? Let all who question her sincerity, indicate so."
Five hands rose, including Manwë's own. Irmo, Oromë, Estë, and Vána voted with him. To my shock, Tulkas did not, merely leaning forward in his seat.
Manwë scanned his fellow Valar, then lowered his hand. "All those who believe her to be sincere," he said, "so indicate."
Six hands this time. Námo, Vairë, Varda, Nessa, and Nienna all did so immediately. Last to join them, to my even greater surprise, was Tulkas Astaldo himself, who did not look at me, instead meeting the eyes of his wife, Nessa.
Ulmo abstained. He was looking at me thoughtfully. I wondered what he was thinking. Had I convinced him not to vote against me with my answer to his question? Or had he thought I was lying? I didn't know. He was inscrutable as a storm at sea.
Aulë abstained too. As I met his eyes, I saw there heartbreaking hope. I understood. He wanted, so
badly, for me to be sincere—and so could not trust himself to judge my sincerity. I smiled at him, doing my best to convey my forgiveness.
"Very well," said Manwë. "By a narrow margin, we agree upon Taylor's sincerity. In that case, has anyone an objection to leaving her penance in the hands of Eru Ilúvatar?"
No one spoke, so he nodded. "Very well," he said. His eyes met mine. His face was still stern, but the coldness in his gaze had abated. "By my authority as Chief of the Valar," he said, "I return to you, Taylor, who was called Sauron and Mairon before, the right to reside in Aman, if you so choose. Your banishment, at least by our law, is ended."
My breath caught. Suddenly the proceedings of the previous several minutes seemed to sharpen in my memory, growing more real. I had almost not realized the importance of what was happening. My mind was still on what was happening back on Earth Bet. I bowed low before Manwë. "Thank you," I said, my voice shaking. "I… I'm grateful. Humbled."
"If we are now agreed that Taylor is worth heeding," said Námo dryly, nodding to me, "I would bid her speak. Tell us your purpose."
I swallowed, looked around at the fourteen Valar, and spoke. "Ungoliant's brood has resurfaced," I said. "They have grown in strength and hunger, and have returned to Men to destroy them. One of them came to the world where I had been reborn and killed me this morning. I suspect he has begun to kill everyone I knew there. He is only one of hundreds, each of them growing fat on Light and Song." I took a deep breath. "I contend that this is the beginning of Dagor Dagorath," I said, nodding to Námo. "As was prophesied. And I ask permission of the Valar to return and help my friends—and, if any are willing, I ask also for support in the coming battle."
Silence fell. Manwë studied me impassively as the other Valar glanced at each other.
Finally, Ulmo cleared his throat. "I never left the worlds of Men," he said, looking around at his fellows. "Though my presence is muted in some, and I retain full awareness in only a few, I retain some awareness in all. Taylor speaks true—this child of Ungoliant has scattered his own brood across an entire world of Men, and now that brood has begun to feast. Time is short: if it remains our part to protect men from Silence and Discord, then we
must act."
"My Halls are always busy," said Námo quietly. "But today, a dam has burst. A flood of men has passed into the dark today, and upon some of their Fëar are unmistakable wounds. The marks of Silence, feeding. It is not quite how I expected the prophecies would be fulfilled, but the signs are unmistakable. War has come back to the scattered remnants of Arda." He looked at Manwë. "Will we fight?"
Tulkas struck the arm of his chair with a clenched fist. "Are we truly considering hiding away here while Ilúvatar's children die in such great numbers?" he growled. "We have confirmation from both Námo and Ulmo. It no longer matters whether we trust Taylor's word. We are called to the defense of Ilúvatar's secondborn. Shall we really refuse?"
Manwë took a deep breath. "What say you, Olórin?" he asked, meeting the eyes of my guide. "Think you that it is time we returned from the West at last?"
Olórin bowed low. "I do, my King," he said simply.
Manwë bowed his head. "Then we shall," he said. He looked among the other Valar. "Gather your forces, your bannermen, your servants and arms. Assemble your fleets. We shall return by the straight path. First, to the world from which Taylor returned to us—then, onward to the rest."
Tulkas leapt to his feet with a cheer, fists raised in excitement. The other Valar were more sedate, but anticipation hummed among them. I sagged in relief.
As the council dissolved, Námo stood and crossed to the three of us in the center of the ring. "Taylor," he said. "Before we march east, you must come with me back to my halls."
I looked at him. My heart thudded in my chest. I didn't dare speak.
He just nodded. "There is someone with whom you must speak," he said. "You will be parted for a time, until this war is done, but you should at least have time to say goodbye."
