54. Conversations with the Lord of Dead

Before Finrod and Aragorn could speak longer, they were interrupted by an elf that came to the fountain. Aragorn knew him – it was Belthrion, the rope-maker from Falas.

"Finrod, there is someone else you should speak with. He waits you there…" he pointed at one of the halls.

Finrod just bowed deeply, then nodded in greeting to Aragorn, and went in the showed direction.

There was a moment of silence. Then Aragorn looked at Belthrion. "Who are you really?"

The elf smiled. "I am one that was before time. I am the guide on the last road, and judge of souls… I am…" suddenly he changed, his figure growing in power and authority.

"… Lord Námo!" Aragorn answered subconsciously, falling to his knees.

The Vala did not reply, just stood there, an aura of cold and power around him. Then, the Vala's eyes looked distant, like looking into some moment in past or even future that Aragorn could not see. He started to sing. The song carried such aching beauty, such sadness, that Aragorn wept before the first tone ended. Námo sang only a few bars and then stopped and sighed.

"That's Lúthien's song…" he said quietly. "The one she sang to me to soften my heart, so I would allow her to be with Beren forever, even in death…" he sighed. "And now you are here, a descendant of their line, a Mortal in the halls of Elves, neither dead nor living. What should I do with you?"

It was clearly a rhetorical question, but Aragorn looked confused, and a little fearful. Drying his tears, he asked: "Neither dead nor living? But I thought I died… The poison…"

"You should have died," Námo assented matter-of-factly.

"Then why…"

"Because of Sauron," was the surprising reply.

"Sauron? How…"

Námo laughed shortly. "Why, how, when, where… I will tell you. But answer my riddle first."

Aragorn paled slightly. "A riddle? Is this… a riddle game? Like Bilbo with Gollum?"

Námo laughed. "No, of course not. Just a simple riddle."

Aragorn sighed with relief and bowed his head, for he could not do anything else. "Ask then, my lord."

"How many bricks does it take to complete a house?" Námo asked and Aragorn looked at him in confusion.

He thought for a moment, but then shook his head, indeed glad that this is not a riddle game. "I do not know, my Lord… It depends how big the house is."

But Námo smiled and shook his head. "Just one, my friend. Only the last one completes the house."

"Ah…" Aragorn nodded, but there was still a confused look on his face, wondering what does it have to do with a fallen Maia.

"A house of soul is built of deeds," Námo explained. "Only with the last deed, it is complete."

"What is his last deed, then?"

In that moment Námo suddenly stood up, as if a mountain would rise from a sea, and he looked dark and frightening, a cold shiver of inevitable doom.

Aragon fell to his knees without realizing it.

"The last deed of Mairon Aulendil, who became Sauron Gorthaur, is creating all this mess... and saving your life in the process."

Aragorn just stared at Námo, unable to say anything.

The Lord of Dead actually smiled at his expression. "I've told you, you shouldn't be here, haven't I? You should pass through the part of the Halls that's for the Mortals, and through it, beyond the Circles of The World. But instead, you ended here, where the Firstborn wait for their re-embodiment… Do you remember why?"

"He… opened a door…" Aragorn whispered with astonishment.

"Yes. He opened the door for you when he finally headed the call. I have called him to my Halls several times since he lost his power. He has not headed it – until now."

"For me?"

"I find it hard to believe as well…" Námo shrugged. "But it seems so. Maybe he just decided to do it anyways, and helped you along the way. In any case, there is no exit from here that leads beyond the circles of the world. You'll have to return…"

"And go through the proper way?" Aragorn asked quietly.

"Maybe…" Námo answered. "Or not. Your way is your own."

Aragorn nodded slowly, thinking about it. "When, my Lord?" he asked then.

"When you are ready," Námo answered, and then smiled slightly. "But I would appreciate sooner. Your presence is causing quite a stir."

"Oh… I'm really sorry my lord…."

"Don't be," Námo assured him. "I didn't say it's a wrong stir. Your coming was like a stone that sent ripples across the water. Some events that were long overdue have been finally set to motion. But a slight push is enough; too much might have an opposite effect."

Aragorn nodded slowly. "I will leave now, if you show me the way."

"It is here…" Námo smiled a little mysteriously, and in the same moment as he said that, Aragorn saw a door, hanging in the middle of the hall. He hesitated just a moment before entering it.