28: Judgment

The next morning was spent quietly as they prepared themselves for the trial, which would begin at noon. The night before, Finrod and Glorfindel had told them all that had happened to them in Lórien. They spoke in generalities, however, glossing over their fight and its aftermath. Arafinwë glanced at Ingwë, whose expression remained unreadable.

"And you say Ingwion has continued on to Lady Nienna’s?" the High King asked as their narrative came to an end.

Finrod nodded. "I saw him before he left. He was not happy to do so, but knew that he had no choice. Ingwion seemed to think that Lady Nienna needed him with her work with Vorondil and Aldundil," he added with a shrug.

Ingwë raised an eyebrow at that, but Elindis merely smiled. "I am sure he will be very helpful."

There were nods all around. "He is a credit to you both," Eärwen said simply, giving them a brilliant smile.

Now, nearly noon, they were all gathered in the courtyard of the inn, waiting for the escort that Manwë had promised them. Even as Finrod was brushing off imaginary dust from Glorfindel’s tunic, several Maiar appeared, giving them all bows. Both Finrod and Glorfindel noted with relief that none of the Maiar were warrior Maiar. In fact, they appeared to be Varda’s People, for all wore indigo tabards with the eight-pointed star that was the Elentári’s emblem.

They only recognized one of the Maiar, Ilmarë, Varda’s Chief Maia, who smiled warmly upon them all, though there was a gravity about her that spoke of the seriousness of her position as leader of the escort. "My lords, my ladies," she said solemnly, "if you will come." She gestured, and everyone filed out of the courtyard, the Maiar flanking them.

The journey through Eldamas and down the central avenue of Valmar was made in silence. It did not escape anyone’s notice that neither Glorfindel nor Finrod slowed down as they came to Lord Námo’s mansion, studiously keeping their eyes before them. Everyone stopped by mutual consent at the foot of the Ezellohar and gave the Trees their reverence before continuing on to the Ring.

Ilmarë led them between the thrones of Manwë and Varda where she bade Ingwë and Elindis to stand. Then she asked Arafinwë and Eärwen to stand between the thrones of Lord Aulë and Lady Varda while Olwë and Lirillë went to stand between the thrones of Manwë and Ulmo. These were traditionally the places where the royal families would stand whenever they were bidden to the Máhanaxar to witness a trial.

"Though in truth, I do not think any of us have stood here since Fëanáro’s trial," Arafinwë commented and the others nodded.

"Neither of us attended that particular trial," Olwë said, nodding to his wife. "We were not interested in the doings of Aman at that time, thinking in our foolishness that your half-brother’s antics were not our concern."

"We learned better, much to our sorrow," Lirillë added quietly.

"We all did," Arafinwë said with a sigh.

Surprisingly, Ilmarë bade Finrod and Glorfindel to stand elsewhere. "For you are both witnesses," she said and led them to stand between the thrones of Námo and Irmo. Neither ellon was pleased by this but realized they had no choice. The others in their party gave them sympathetic smiles.

There were no other elves present and Finrod asked Ilmarë about it. "Oh, they are coming," she answered cryptically before bowing to them all and disappearing with the rest of the escort.

Glorfindel grimaced. "I really hate this," he muttered and Finrod nodded. It felt odd to be standing there looking across the Ring to where his parents and grandparents stood. He looked at his great uncle and aunt, the High King and Queen of all the elves of Aman, and sighed, though he was not sure why. Glorfindel gave him a glance, then put an arm around his gwador’s shoulders.

"It’s going to be all right, you know," he whispered.

"Ever the optimist, aren’t you?" Finrod asked with a thin smile.

"Oh, I’m not an optimist," Glorfindel retorted. "I’m just not a pessimist."

Finrod chuckled. "It is hard to be pessimistic when one has been offered a second chance at life."

"My thought exactly. I...."

But what he was planning to say remained forever unspoken as several other elves began to make their way into the Ring, standing between the various thrones as they chanced to find places. The majority of the elves now gathering were Amaneldi, including a group from Alqualondë. A smaller group, dressed more mutely than even the Teleri and thus marking them as Tol Eressëans, stood nervously, looking about with obvious awe.

A low murmur of sound rumbled across the Ring as voices began speculating as to the purpose of their being there, but quieted as flashes of multi-colored lights, too bright for any of them to watch directly, coalesced into the Valar standing before their thrones just as the bells of Valmar rang the noon hour. All bowed to the Powers, though only Manwë acknowledged them with a nod.

"We welcome you, my children," he said gravely even as he and the other Valar took their seats.

It escaped no one’s notice that every one of the Valar was garbed in somber tones. Even Lady Vána had eschewed her usual bright greens and yellows for a deep ochre. Lord Námo looked positively funereal in unrelieved black, while his brother wore burgundy robes instead of his usual white. Lord Manwë and Lady Varda wore matching robes of midnight blue. All the others wore shades ranging from deep forest green (Oromë) to dark gold (Yavanna) to charcoal grey (Nienna).

Beside each Vala stood a Maia wearing the colors of their masters and mistresses. Finrod saw that these were the Chief Maiar of the Valar and gave an involuntary shiver. Their expressions could have been carved in stone and none of them acknowledged any of the elves with so much as a sideways glance, their gazes resolutely on the center of the Ring.

"This is a sad day for us all," Manwë said without preamble, "though as yet only we Valar are aware of its import. A thing has happened that has not occurred since before the creation of Arda. We thought at first to keep this matter between us, but in the end it was decided that you who live amongst us should witness the justice of the Valar and see that none of us is exempt from it." He nodded to Eönwë standing beside him and the Maia stepped forward.

"Let the prisoners be brought forth," he intoned solemnly before stepping back to his original place.

Another shimmer of lights graced the very center of the Ring and a collective gasp rose from the elves as they beheld two Maiar surrounded by a contingent of other Maiar led by Manveru. Finrod recognized Erunáro and Fionwë as well, but the others were unknown to him. He shivered as he realized that these Maiar did not wear the sky blue tabards of Lord Manwë but the black tabards denoting Lord Námo’s People. None of these did he recall seeing while in the Halls of Mandos, for which he was grateful, for they radiated a fell coldness that could be felt even from where he stood. He glanced at Glorfindel and saw that his gwador looked pale and put a comforting hand on his arm.

*Be at peace,* Finrod heard Námo bespeak him and he felt a gentle soothing caress upon his brow. *These servants of mine are usually not found in my Halls, for they serve a different purpose.* But what that purpose was he did not say and Finrod did not feel brave enough to ask. He glanced again at Glorfindel to find that the ellon was looking a little less disturbed. It seemed that Lord Námo had bespoken him as well.

"Let us begin," Manwë said, looking up at Námo. "Read the charges, Morimando."

Námo rose in dark majesty, giving Manwë a brief bow before casting his gaze upon the two prisoners, who had turned to face him. Olórin looked strangely calm, but it was obvious that Lisselindë was barely able to compose herself and refused to look at anyone or anything, gazing down at her feet, though she stood erect otherwise.

"Lisselindë of the People of Irmo, thou standest accused of interfering with the will of one of the Children, one who is a child indeed, thus abrogating her right of freedom from undue coercion. How pleadest thou?"

"Guilty, lord," she whispered though all could hear her. She never looked up.

There were gasps from the crowd but when Námo cast his amaranthine eyes upon them, silence ensued. Turning once again to the prisoners, he spoke, "Olórin of the People of Manwë, thou standest accused of aiding and abetting Lisselindë in her attempt to suborn the will of another. How pleadest thou?"

"Not guilty, my lord," the Maia said firmly, never flinching from gazing upon the dread Doomsman.

Finrod and Glorfindel exchanged startled glances at that and many of the elves could be heard muttering amongst themselves. The Valar and their Maiar attendants remained still as stone. Námo raised his hand and the muttering ceased. He stared at the two Maiar for a long moment before gazing at Manwë. "The charges have been read, the pleas entered. Let the witnesses come forth."

"But if she says she’s guilty...." one of the elves standing between Tulkas’ and Nessa’s thrones was heard to say somewhat louder than was necessary.

Tulkas turned his gaze upon the elleth, his mien somber. "There are always extenuating circumstances to be considered," he said softly, though all could hear him. "We did not even deny our Fallen Brother that right."

The elleth looked suitably cowed by the Vala’s regard and offered a whispered apology. Tulkas stared at her for a long moment before turning his attention to Námo, giving him a nod.

With that, the Lord of Mandos sat. Manwë nodded and then turned and said something to Eönwë that none could hear. The Maia bowed his head and faded from view, returning shortly in hröa, leading Lindorillë by the hand as he passed Ingwë and Elindis. Melian walked behind them.

Finrod turned to Námo, his expression dark. "What is she doing here?" he hissed at the Vala. "She’s much too young to endure such a thing. Are you all mad?"

Námo gazed down at the ellon dispassionately. "She is here for the same reason you are. She is a witness." He raised a hand to forestall Finrod’s next retort. "Be at peace, Arafinwion. She neither sees nor hears anyone but Eönwë and Melian and when she leaves here she will think it all a dream. We are not so callous as you would have us."

A child-sized chair appeared about midway between the two prisoners and Manwë’s throne and Eönwë gently led her to it, encouraging her to sit. The child remained still, her gaze unseeing. Manwë swept the Ring with his own clear gaze. "This child neither sees nor hears us, yet I will caution you all to remain silent while she gives her testimony." He turned back to Eönwë with a nod. "Begin."

Eönwë bowed and then knelt beside the quiescent elfling, gently stroking her hair. "Lindorillë, dost thou hear me, hina?"

Lindorillë nodded but otherwise did not speak.

"Good. Now wouldst thou tell me about the other day when Lord Findaráto asked of thee to copy out some letters? Canst thou tell me what happened?"

Lindorillë’s expression became less remote as she looked directly at Eönwë, who smiled at her encouragingly. "Well, Lord Findaráto asked me to copy out some letters," she said. "He has been having me copy letters for some time. He says I need to practice if I’m going to be his secretary."

All could see the pride in her expression as she spoke and Finrod found himself blushing at the curious gazes from nearby elves. He started blushing even more at the next thing Lindorillë said, as she leaned closer to Eönwë in confidence. "He doesn’t have very good handwriting, you know. Sometimes it’s hard to figure out what I’m supposed to be writing." There were quiet snickers all around and even the Valar looked amused, though Finrod noticed that Lisselindë and the strange Maiar belonging to Lord Námo were the only ones who were not smiling. Even Olórin had an indulgent look on his face as he listened to the child’s words. Lindorillë did not hear the snickering and continued blithely with her confidence while both Eönwë and Melian attempted not to laugh."I think he forgets and writes in that funny language he and Lord Glorfindel speak when they don’t want the rest of us to know what they are saying."

Now Finrod and Glorfindel both looked embarrassed as several elves laughed out loud, forgetting Manwë’s earlier admonishment. Their neighbors shushed them, looking askance though none of the Valar admonished them. When silence once more reigned across the Ring, Eönwë spoke. "That’s very interesting, Lindorillë, but couldst thou tell me what happened after thou didst finish copying out the letters that day?"

Lindorillë’s expression became more pensive. "Well... I was almost ready to go and play. Lord Findaráto said I could," she offered, thinking perhaps that this person wouldn’t approve, but Eönwë just nodded. Mollified, she continued. "I was going to go play when I saw how messy Lord Findaráto’s desk was so I decided to neaten it for him." She smiled and Eönwë smiled in return.

"So thou didst put all the papers together," he said, encouraging her to continue.

She nodded. "Yes. Most of them were boring stuff I didn’t understand but there was one...." and here she faltered, her eyes dimming as tears started to form.

"It’s all right, child," Eönwë said, gently stroking her hair and calming her. "There is no need to talk about the letter right now. Canst thou answer another question for me instead?"

"Wh-what?"

"Canst thou tell me what thou didst hear when thou didst decide to neaten thy lord’s desk instead of going out to play?"

"H-heard?" Lindorillë asked, obviously confused.

The Maia nodded. "Didst thou hear a voice speaking to thee?"

For a moment the child remained quiet and then she nodded. "I was almost outside," she said, speaking slowly, as if unsure of her words, or wishing to choose them carefully, "when something inside me said ‘Thy lord would love thee even more than he doth if he findeth thou hast neatened his desk. See how messy he hath left it? Why dost thou not make him proud of thee by straightening his desk?’ So that’s what I decided to do."

No one moved. Finally Manwë rose and came to kneel before Lindorillë, making her look at him. Her expression was uncertain but when he smiled, she relaxed. "Are those the exact words that thou didst hear, child? No more and no less?"

Lindorillë nodded.

"Did the voice sound familiar to thee?" the Elder King asked then.

She scrunched her face, obviously trying to remember and then her expression cleared somewhat although her tone when she spoke was dubious. "I... I think it was Lisselindë, but she wasn’t there. I was all alone."

Many there cast their eyes upon the accused Maia, who remained stoically still, never looking up.

"D-did I do something wrong?" Lindorillë suddenly asked, looking as if she were about to cry. Manwë gathered her into his arms and rocked her gently.

"Nay, child, thou hast done naught. Thy lord is well pleased with thee and loveth thee, as do I." He then kissed her on the brow and stood her on her feet. "Now, go thou with Melian and she will give thee a treat."

Melian offered her hand to the elfling who took it willingly and soon they were gone. Manwë resumed his seat, while Eönwë took his place beside his lord. The child’s chair was gone as well. For a time there was silence and then Manwë nodded to his Chief Maia once again. The Herald stood forward. "Let Lord Findaráto come forth."

Glorfindel gave his gwador a brief hug before Finrod stepped out into the Ring. He was unsure just where he should stand and was grateful when Fionwë, who was facing him, gave him an encouraging smile and gestured to a particular spot. Finrod gave the Maia a grateful smile and turned to face Lord Námo, instinctively believing that any questions would come from him.

"Describe the letter, Prince Findaráto," Námo said, his voice giving nothing away.

Finrod sighed inwardly and began to describe the contents of the letter. When he was done, Námo asked the next logical question for which Finrod was ready with the answer.

"What was thy intent with this letter?" the Vala asked.

"To burn it," Finrod said firmly, ignoring the whispering around him.

"But thou didst not in fact burn it," Námo retorted.

"Yet, that was my intent, but I was called away before I could do so."

"Called away by whom?"

"Lisselindë," Finrod replied. "She appeared and told me that I was needed elsewhere in Lórien. I am often called to the groves of the Reborn when they become upset, for I seem to have a talent in being able to soothe them with my harp playing."

"So thou didst think nothing about the request," Námo offered.

Finrod shook his head. "I just gathered my harp and told Lindorillë that when she finished her copying she was then free to amuse herself until the noon meal and then I left."

"Did Lisselindë remain behind?" Manwë asked and Finrod turned to answer him.

"I do not know, lord. She was still there when I left."

Manwë nodded and then spoke to Námo. "Continue with thy questioning, Morimando."

"What didst thou do with the letter?" Námo asked.

"In my haste to leave, I shoved it into the pile of letters and documents on my desk. When I returned about an hour or so later, I found that someone had tidied my desk and assumed it was Lindorillë being ambitious. That’s when I found the letter lying on the ground beneath the desk and realized that she must have read it."

"What didst thou do then?"

Finrod told them, explaining how he had gone to Lady Melian’s grove in search of his ward only to be blocked by Lisselindë and Olórin. He then went on to describe their conversation which the Valar seemed to be most interested in, for Oromë interrupted his narrative to ask one or two pertinent questions dealing with the exact wording of the conversation between Finrod and the two Maiar. Finally, he told of returning to his pavilion.

He paused, looking at Námo with embarrassed uncertainty. "Do... dost thou wish me to tell what happened then?"

Námo shook his head. "Not at this time. Suffice to say that thou didst go from thine interview with these two Maiar dissatisfied and in a... let us say ‘foul mood’, and leave it at that for now."

Finrod nodded, looking relieved. Námo, meanwhile appeared to be communing silently with Manwë and the other Valar. After a moment, his gaze became more ‘present’ and he addressed Lisselindë.

"Why didst thou do what thou didst, child?"

Lisselindë’s stoic posture crumbled somewhat and she flinched at the question. Without looking up, she whispered, "He signed the letter. He meant to send it. I couldn’t let him. It was wrong."

"How dost thou know I meant to send it?" Finrod asked out of turn, too surprised at the Maia’s confession to follow protocol.

Lisselindë gave him an accusing glare. "Because thou didst sign it. I saw thee."

Before Finrod could speak, Námo intervened. "Didst thou sign it, Findaráto?"

Finrod turned to look at the Lord of Mandos and shrugged. "I suppose I did, but...."

"See thou! He admits it!" Lisselindë exclaimed, casting Finrod a disapproving look. "What kind of lord...."

"Silence!"

Námo’s command was spoken barely above a whisper but the force behind that one word sent more than one elf to his knees and Lisselindë quailed.

"Perhaps we should produce this letter," Irmo said in the ensuing silence.

Finrod shook his head. "I fear it was destroyed when Glorfindel and I... well... thou knowest," he said, looking at the Vala helplessly.

Irmo smiled. "No. Not everything was destroyed. We did find the offending letter mostly intact." He gestured and a ragged scrap of vellum appeared in his hand. He stood and handed it to Námo who took it, giving it a negligent glance. Then he gestured for Finrod to approach.

"Is this the letter in question?" he asked, allowing the ellon to take the letter. Finrod gave it a cursory glance, well aware of the fact that it was indeed the letter in question.

"Yes, my lord, it is."

"And is it signed?"

"Yes, but...."

"But what?"

Finrod held the letter up so Námo could see. "Look, lord. Look at the signature."

Námo took the letter from Finrod and studied it more closely. For several heartbeats no one moved. Then Námo handed the letter back to Finrod. "Show this to Lord Manwë," he ordered.

Finrod bowed before striding across the field to hand the letter to Manwë, who in turn studied the letter carefully. Then, to the amazement of the bystanders, the Elder King smiled. "Ah... I see what thou meanest."

He handed the letter back to Finrod. "Tell us whose signature is on this letter," he commanded.

Finrod shrugged, turning to look at Lisselindë. "I did indeed sign this letter. It is signed ‘Finrod Felagund, Aran Nargothrond, Hîr Tol Sirion’."

"I... I don’t understand," Lisselindë replied in confusion.

"I signed it with my titles from my life in Beleriand which is no more," Finrod explained. "That’s why I said I had no intention of sending the letter to King Ingwë. As soon as I wrote it I knew it was wrong, so I signed it as I did. Had I truly desired to send it I would have signed it simply with ‘Findaráto, Haryon Noldoron’, for that is the only title recognized here in Aman. Though I was once a king, I am one no longer. This signature," — he held the letter up — "is invalid. None would recognize it, not even my beloved great uncle, the High King."

At that moment, Ingwë stepped forward. "It is true," he said in a ringing tone. "Though I honor my great nephew and the life he carved for himself in the Outer Lands, his titles there have no legal standing here in Aman. I would not have accepted this letter had it been sent as is." He then bowed to Manwë and stepped back to stand beside Elindis.

Silence stretched for several heartbeats while everyone attempted to assimilate this bit of news. Lisselindë stared at Finrod for the longest time in dismay and then surprisingly turned to her fellow prisoner, her eyes flashing with fury. "Thou knewest! Thou knewest and thou didst not tell me!"

Olórin, for his part, did not flinch. "Of course I knew, my dear." His tone was somewhat acerbic. "I am not as unintelligent as all that. Thou mayest recall I peeked over Lindorillë’s shoulder while she was reading the letter and saw the signature. It wasn’t even completed." He stole a glance at Finrod, giving him a brief smile. "I noticed thou didst not finish writing ‘Sirion’."

Finrod shook his head. "I stopped when I realized I was writing the place where I died, though it had a different name by then."

"But... why didst thou not say anything?" Lisselindë demanded. "Why didst thou let me...."

"Because I had not the authority to stop thee and I could see that thou wouldst not be persuaded from thy course. I do admit that I allowed thee to think that I agreed with thee, at least in thy motives if not thy methods, in the hopes of mitigating whatever damage might follow but Lindorillë’s flight put paid to that and the best I could do was to persuade thee not to flee into the nether regions of Eä in hopes of eluding justice." He then turned to Lord Námo and bowed. "So while I plead not guilty in aiding and abetting Lisselindë in her attempt to suborn Lindorillë’s will, I fear I must plead guilty of... misleading a fellow Maia and causing her to fall into error. For that I ask thy forgiveness." This last he said to Lisselindë.

She could only stare at him, her entire demeanor one of shock and dismay. Finally, she turned to face Lord Irmo, who sat in impervious silence. "I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...." She started to weep and Olórin put an arm around her shoulders and embraced her, speaking softly to her.

Námo ignored the tableau in the center of the Ring, turning his attention to Manwë. "Art thou satisfied with this witness, Calimando?"

"Yea," the Elder King said with a nod. "Let him be dismissed."

Námo nodded and gestured to Finrod to resume his place next to Glorfindel. The ellon bowed to both Manwë and Námo before joining his gwador, who gave him a hug. "You did well, brother," the golden-haired ellon whispered. "Now I suppose it’s my turn, though I can’t imagine what questions they would ask me about it all."

Both Irmo and Námo overheard him speaking and there was a ghost of a smile on both their lips. Irmo leaned over and gestured for Glorfindel to approach. "You are not a witness, Glorfindel," the Vala said softly, though Finrod could hear him well enough. "My brother and I merely wished to keep you in our sights. You are much too dangerous to be left on your own."

Glorfindel did not know if he should be affronted or appeased by Irmo’s words but when he heard Finrod quietly chuckling behind him, he sighed and gave the Lord of Lórien a lopsided grin. "I guess I make your lives rather interesting, don’t I?"

"To say the least," Irmo said with all sincerity, though his eyes twinkled with barely concealed mirth. Then he sat back in his throne, his expression becoming more severe, all levity gone and Glorfindel resumed his place next to Finrod. Some decision had been made among the Valar in the interim and now Námo rose, gazing dispassionately upon the two prisoners.

"Lisselindë of the People of Irmo, in thine arrogance thou didst arrogate to thyself a right that is not thine, indeed is not the right of any of us who have been set in Arda as Guardians and Protectors of the Eruhíni. And this deed was unlawful whether of Aman or not of Aman. Therefore this doom is now made: it is the will of the Valar that thou shalt no longer be counted amongst the People of Irmo and Estë but will be given unto Lady Nienna and will give unto her thine allegiance until such time as the Valar decide that thou mayest return to thy proper place. In that take counsel with thyself, and remember who and what thou art."

Lisselindë fell to her knees, hiding her face in her hands. Olórin placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Námo, meanwhile, addressed him.

"Olórin of the People of Manwë...." he began then paused, giving the Maia a rueful look, the first hint of emotion he had displayed during the entire proceeding. "I am afraid thou and I are stuck with one another once again."

Olórin bowed, giving the Vala a brief smile. "And I shall endeavor to be ever obedient unto thee, my lord. May I ask how long this time?"

Námo turned to Irmo and then looked at Manwë before returning his gaze upon the waiting Maia. "We’ll work out the details later," he said somewhat drolly and Olórin bowed, accepting the Valar’s judgment.

Then with a gesture from Manwë, the prisoners and their guards faded from view and Eönwë stepped forward. "This Judgment is over. Valar valuvar. Go now in peace."

With that the Valar and their Maiar attendants disappeared, leaving the elves to fend for themselves.

****

Haryon Noldoron: (Quenya) Throne-prince of the Noldor.