III

Brothers Abroad

During the three major times of festival in Aman — Erukyermë in spring, Erulaitalë at midsummer, and Eruhantalë in autumn, names that had been used in Númenor during the years of their friendship with the Elves, and which were now used in memory of Elros, son of Eärendil — it was common for those who travelled to Valmar to remain in the vicinity for several weeks, so long as the weather remained favorable.  Because of the throngs who came, it was also common for the three Elven kings to hold special courts, for the benefit of both those who otherwise might have to journey long distances to speak with their rulers.  Although the Valar and their servants occasionally came to witness the proceedings beyond the walls of their city, more often than not, they left the Elves to themselves, or watched unseen.  From time to time, Manwë used this opportunity to hold court among the Ainur, to deal with any matters that might have arisen that would be best handled outside the presence of the Children.  

From the moment he had first become aware of their Father's message for him, the Elder King had known there might be a need for it to be discussed in such a way.  Having heard Eönwë's reports, he was now certain such a gathering was necessary.  In the early days of Arda — before the wakening of the Children, as when the incident between Olórin and Aránayel had occurred — he would have reacted more swiftly, as his herald had feared.  Strangely, however, it had been the coming of the Eruhíni and their ways — which to the deathless Ainur seemed astonishingly hasty, even those of the slow-paced Onodrim — that had taught Manwë the wisdom of slowing his reactions so that all their repercussions could be best understood.  In his command that Olórin join the Istari, he had thought he had considered all the possible ramifications; his overpowering desire to avoid failure had blinded him to the truth of what might result.  He had closed his ears to the counsel of the other Valar, and in doing so had closed his mind.

No more.  This time, he would do his best to see justice done, properly, and he knew that seeking advice from others would be needed.  So, even as he asked Eönwë to act as his herald and give word to the other Maiar that a full court of the Ainur would be held in Ilmarin two days hence, he himself asked the other Valar to join him there late that evening, so the matter could be discussed beforehand.

A short time later, after he had spoken with his fellow Valar, the Elder King met with Olórin in his brother's new chambers on the upper floor, and told him that he wished for the Maia to attend that night's meeting.  The Istar was reluctant to comply.  "I fear that it would be misconstrued," he explained.  "If any of the other Maiar were to hear that I had been invited to a private council of the Valar, it could very well feed the bitterness Eönwë mentioned."

He was startled by the feral gleam in the wind-lord's eyes, and his matching smile.  "I suspect it will — in fact, I hope it will.  I do not mean to use you in an unpleasant fashion, and there are other sound reasons why I would like for you to attend, but experience has taught me that often, the most effective way to encourage those of crooked intent to expose themselves is to make them believe that the events they fear most are indeed about to happen.  Eönwë did not mention it, but I believe that some of the other Maiar are afraid that you are about to be raised into the ranks of the Valar.  That may well be where the Eldar got the notion of the Secondborn becoming Ainur after death -- or perhaps vice versa."

Olórin was so shocked, he could not speak.  Manwë laughed gently, his smile softening as he settled one hand on the Maia's shoulder.  "That will not happen, I assure you.  You are what our Father made you to be, and what you are and ever will be is a Maia.  Moreover, Melkor was never truly counted among the ruling powers of Eä.  He wished to be the sole ruler, and never cooperated with the rest of us in any way.  There is no need to 'replace' him, as some might think.  Were that necessary, the One would have seen to it, long ago.  But why else would any of our people be upset over the fact that you and I are considered brothers in our Father's thought?"

The Maia pondered the question for several long moments; as he did so, the horror in his expression drained away.  "I can think of one or two other possibilities, but they are only variations of the same general idea.  To some who do not know all the facts, it could easily appear that I have been rewarded more than would seem fair, but for your influence and favor."

"Or to those who are too self-involved to see the true merit of others," Manwë said, rather grimly.  "If it will distress you to attend, I will understand and say no more of it."

Olórin pondered the matter, his gaze focused on the images in the domed ceiling above them.  At length, he sighed.  "Your point is well made.  I generally have little taste for subterfuge, but I certainly learned ways to use subtle manipulation during my time in Middle-earth, in ways that avoided outright lies.  With the obstinate or rigidly opinionated, if can be the only way to make them see reason.  If it will help bring this situation to a swift and favorable resolution, then I will of course cooperate.  You were in earnest when you said there are other good reasons for me to be there?"

"There are," Manwë promised.  "You are part of this matter, and as such should be a part of all counsels concerning it.  However we proceed, it will be with your approval, as well as mine."

The Maia accepted that assurance with a grateful smile.  "Thank you.  Some would no doubt interpret your consideration as another example of bias, but I know that is not so.  If Lady Varda intends to give Frodo and Bilbo a complete tour of the mansion, they will not be finished for several hours, will they?"

The Vala's eyes unfocused for a moment, then cleared.  He smiled.  "Yes, she thinks they will not be done until mid-afternoon.  The little ones are both thoroughly fascinated, and Nárënilda offered to serve them luncheon on the upper terrace overlooking the songbird garden."

"A beautiful site," Olórin agreed.  "Are they upset that we have not joined them?"

Manwë shook his head.  "Varda told them that Eönwë had other important news that required our attention, though she mentioned no specifics.  They are sorry that we could not come, but they are so enjoying her company, I doubt they will much notice our absence.  Varda has grown quite fond of them, and the Eruhíni are often astonished and delighted by her charming nature.  It is a side of her they seldom experience directly."

"I have experienced it often enough, and even so, it still delights me.  I must remember to thank her for her graciousness."

"If she will accept it.  She does this as much for her own pleasure as for theirs."

Olórin could see the truth of that.  He acknowledged it with a brief nod.  "Then if we have some time to spare before we must join them, I think I could best use it in seeking Father's guidance, if He will offer it.  I still fear that more harm than good may come of this, if we are not careful.  It puzzles me that He chose to reveal this now."

Manwë snorted, very softly.  "Given how many already knew or suspected, it can scarcely be called a revelation.  But I had also thought to ask His guidance."

Something in his tone struck the Maia as a bell is softly struck, gaining his attention.  He turned his gaze to the wind-lord, then understood.  "Perhaps we should do so together," he ventured, knowing as he spoke the words that it was more than a mere hunch.  "I cannot help but believe that there was a reason Father chose this moment to return my full memory of my death, and my return to Him.  He revealed the truth of our relationship now rather than in the days before Time, and in my heart, I feel that He wishes us to seek His guidance in this, together."

The Elder King smiled.  "I felt this as well, but it would seem I was not so strongly convinced that it was more than a desire of my heart.  We shall do so, then — but not here, I think.  This part of the mansion is private, but there are too many with permission to come here to guarantee that we would not be interrupted."

"If you commanded those with permission to stay away, they would doubtless obey," Olórin noted, his eyes glinting.  "And perhaps this could provide more bait for the malcontents, if it became known that we were cloistered together for a time, and you had ordered that we not be interrupted, in your own house."

Manwë's sapphire eyes widened briefly; then he laughed.  "However our Father may see us in His thought, you will forever be a source of the unexpected to me.  One moment, you resist being part of a private meeting, and now, you are coming up with new ways to expand on my design!"

Olórin grinned mischievously.  "And should a younger brother not learn from the elder?" he asked ingenuously.

"That is often the case — which means I should now take greater care to set a better example.  And I am all the more grateful that Melkor is no longer among us.  Your idea has merit, and I will give orders that we are not to be disturbed.  But I would still prefer to go elsewhere, for my own peace of mind."

The Maia agreed.  "I generally prefer solitude when I am troubled and wish to commune with the One.  It can be so difficult to sense anything beyond the veil of Eä...." 

As he spoke, he unconsciously reached up to touch the crystal circlet; the sensation of its bright smoothness under his fingertips kindled another kind of illumination to his thoughts.  "Is there a place where you go when you seek Father's guidance?  Some place that you would wish to reveal to me, that is.  I know that some things should remain private, even among kin."

Manwë dipped his head briefly, a gesture of gracious acknowledgment.  "Very perceptive.  At times, we fool ourselves into the belief that because we lack the physical requirements of the Eruhíni, we do not share their emotional needs.  Yet among us, privacy can be even more precious because there are often so few other barriers between us."

"Then you need say no more; your private place shall remain yours alone.  My favored spot is not known to many — it is little frequented by any inhabitant of Aman, but I would gladly share it with you.  We will not be disturbed there."

The Vala smiled, his blue eyes sparkling like sunlight on deep water.  "You are generous, my brother -— but I have always known that.  Even before we knew that such a thing as physicality could exist, you gave your joy of being to any who came near you.  If it would please you to share this with me, then I will be pleased to accept."

Olórin returned the smile.  "I am.  And I think you will find this... interesting."

*********

The site to which Olórin took them was far to the south of Valmar.  It was among the lesser peaks of the southern Pelóri, well south of Hyarmentir, so far removed from the commonly inhabited regions of Valinor that even from its considerable height, Taniquetil appeared as a distant flickering beacon, low in the northern skies.  From the crest of the ridge upon which they stood, sharp rocky cliffs fell to the sea on the east, while steep and lushly wooded slopes and deep valleys rolled away to a broad plain on the west.  The air here was warmer, moist and redolent with the scent of growing things, the green of forest and plain intense, suggesting a more tropical clime in the plains below, though the air upon the ridge was refreshing.  A thicket of mixed trees swayed in the soft winds; in their shade, a spring-fed pool murmured pleasantly.  A stream from the pool meandered away between mossy rocks and clinging shrubs until it found an edge of the crest and cascaded down the western face in a small but lovely waterfall.  It crashed and sparkled against the mountainside, eventually disappearing into the abundant trees that were nourished by its waters.

Manwë took in the beauty of the place with a single sweeping glance, his non-physical senses telling him of more than the things incarnate senses could detect.  "I know this place," he said.  "And yet, it seems strange.  This was once called Avathar, very near the place where Ungoliant made her lair, but nothing of her darkness or evil remains."

Olórin confirmed it with a nod.  "Only by the virtue of long years of work.  I'm certain you remember how Oromë and his people scoured this region after the Trees were poisoned, to cleanse the land of Ungoliant's taint."

"Yes, I recall his reports, as well as those of the other Valar whose people also aided in that work.  Even after the sun and moon were set in their final courses, they feared that this place might never fully recover, for Melkor had also hidden here, and he had done much to deliberately foul and blight what he touched.   I have often wished that the One had not allowed that darkness to follow us into this new Arda."

"True," the Maia agreed.  "I was in Oromë's realm when that report was given, assisting a group of reborn Avari who had accepted his invitation to dwell in his forests.  His Maiar spoke of little else, as their lack of total success frustrated them.  One evening after Oromë returned from the council, I was present when he and his hunters were discussing that frustration.  It seemed to me that they had truly done all they could, and that the final restoration of this region might be something best done by those whose skills lay more strongly in the arts of healing.  They were intrigued by the notion, and Lord Oromë asked if I would be willing to speak with Irmo and Estë and Nienna, to see if they would be willing to complete the task.  He and his people were already preparing for the war with Melkor that was soon to come, and since it had been my idea, it seemed only fitting that I should be the messenger."

The soft sound Manwë made was one of sudden recognition.  "I remember when he asked if you might take on the task.  You had been so busy working in Endorë, giving encouragement and hope to the Eruhíni, I was surprised to hear that you were again among us."

Olórin smiled.  "You weren't the only one to have that reaction.  I took great care to make my comings and goings subtle, so that few would know for certain whether I was in Aman or Endorë.  But both Irmo and Nienna were most insistent that I return from time to time, to rest and renew my strength.  Helping the reborn was a joy after witnessing so much sorrow and suffering in Middle-earth.  And they were right to insist, even though I was your servant.  You were far too occupied with greater matters, and I knew that you would approve.  Had I not rested even briefly, I would have been of little use in the war — and even I recognized that war with Melkor was inevitable."

Manwë returned the smile.  "They were wise, and I'm glad you heeded them. I also recall that you asked to participate in this part of the cleansing and restoration, to which I agreed.  But Eärendil arrived soon after, and many projects were forgotten during the war."

"Forgotten, but only temporarily.  Those of us who had planned this project remembered, and always had it in mind to return to it, once Melkor was defeated.  After seeing the damage done to Endorë by all of our enemies, it was a balm to our spirits to be able to heal the place that Ungoliant had so fouled.  But it did not come about easily.  Some hurts take a very long time to heal, and this particular poison was tenacious — so much so, it seems, that Lord Eru allowed it to exist in this new version of Arda.  But perhaps He did that to allow us the satisfaction of completing what we had begun.  Each of us would come here for a while, do what we could, then let the next take up the task, over and over until it was finished.  Because we each had unique gifts, we all worked upon different aspects of the task, and by doing it in a cyclical fashion, we were able to achieve a more thorough cleansing."

"That you did," the wind-lord agreed.  "But I cannot recall being told that the work was completed."

The Maia's smile turned wistful.  "That, I fear, is your own fault."

Manwë's sapphire eyes widened.  "My fault?" he said, incredulous.

Olórin nodded serenely.  "I had just returned from our final assessment of the work and was intending to give you that report when I found you already in council, discussing the proposed mission of the Istari.  After you called me forward and commanded me to go as your messenger, I quite forgot about other matters.  I would have expected one of the others to tell you while I was gone, but they seemed to look to me as the leader of the project, since I had initially suggested it.  As no one yet dwelt in this part of Aman, I suppose they saw no need to bring it up during my absence."

"Or they felt that usurping your prerogative was tantamount to confessing their belief that you would be defeated by Sauron and would not return from your new mission." The Vala continued his appreciative study of the region with all his senses; a satisfied smile spread across his face.  "Yes, that is quite likely what happened.  The other Valar and I discussed the empty lands in general terms in our recent councils concerning the Eldar, but very few specifics were mentioned.  In retrospect, I believe Oromë thought that you or one of the others had delivered the report to me, long ago.  It would explain certain things I perceived in his behavior from time to time — odd confusion, mostly."

He laid one hand on the Maia's shoulder, squeezing gently in a gesture of approval.  "I am very pleased with what you and the others who took part in this cleansing accomplished.  The Eruhíni sadly underestimate the Maiar, I fear.  They see the things we Valar do that are of immense power and scale — and they fail to see that the more subtle things wrought by the Maiar are equally necessary, refinements that are merely less obvious and demanding a different kind of power."

Olórin's gaze shifted to the Vala, his expression mingling curiosity and amusement.  "Have you always felt this way about the Maiar, or is this a recent reevaluation brought on by news of our kinship?"

Manwë laughed merrily.  "I have felt this way from the beginning, I promise you.  The first Maia I met was Eönwë, and from the first, I was struck by the quiet beauty and power of what he was.  I saw it in all the others as well, and the immense variety of skills and talents displayed in the Maiar has always been a source of great delight to me.  It saddens me when others do not see this, or dismiss it because they do not perceive the importance of such abilities.  Without the Maiar to help refine our works, they would lack some of their most enriching depth and detail.  To fashion the substance of a world to bring about its abundance of metals and minerals is a tremendous achievement, but it is the skill of the gem cutter that reveals the full beauty of jewels."

The Istar arched one pale brow.  "Are you saying that it was a Maia who taught Aulë how to make jewels?"

The white-maned head shook slightly.  "No, but it was Maiar who became fascinated with the process and found ways to improve upon it.  Aulë was too busy with his own larger tasks and did not have the time to spare for such subtleties, but several of his Maiar were intrigued by the chemical processes that could result in variations to the properties of the stones.  They devised ways of encouraging them in harmony with the Music and the manner in which Eru gave it physical existence, enhancing the original designs to result in many more varieties of gemstone than Aulë himself had initially imagined.  Those who say that the Maiar were created only to be our servants cannot see their subtle purpose and influence in the world.  One might say that the Valar gave shape to Arda, but the Maiar gave it color and fragrance."

Olórin's eyes widened slightly, in pleasant surprise.  "That is an interesting analogy — and given how often those things have been linked to us, very appropriate.  You should mention it more often, especially in the hearing of the Eruhíni.  It might improve their understanding of our kind, though some will no doubt take it too literally."

Manwë's gentle laugh was like the merry sound of a welcome breeze on a hot summer day.  "Some, but not all.  Our hobbit guests already understand this, and I believe they would even if they had not known of Lord Eru's whimsey in their creation.  Although I suspect they might couch it in more culinary terms, saying perhaps that while it is the heavy work of the farmer to raise the crops, it is the skill and imagination of the cook in the kitchen who brings out the best in them."

The Maia's laughter was hearty.  "Yes, that would be their nature, to think along those lines!"  He continued to give free rein to his mirth for a few moments more, then tempered it to a smile.  "And having thought of them, I am reminded that Varda will not keep them diverted indefinitely."

Manwë agreed.  "Yes, we should settle down to our reason for coming here.  I suspect you have something more specific than simple meditation in mind."

As Olórin nodded, he reached up with both hands to carefully remove the circlet from his wind-tousled head.  It shimmered with a light of its own as he held it, reverently, mesmerized by the beauty that could be sensed by more than physical eyes.  "If I had been more attentive and less consumed by my own troubles, from the first I would have known that this gift was unique in ways far beyond even such wonders as the silmarils.  While we can create things from substances of Eä, it is only such things that we can refashion without harm that can easily be carried with us when we travel without fanar.  I have no idea how this was made, nor what substance it is made of, yet it has always remained with me, though I cannot refashion it.  I can sense that it is with me, even when I am disincarnate — but how that can be, I do not know.  There is indeed much more to it than meets the eye, and given what Father said of it in my memories — which I feel were not fully restored now as a mere coincidence! — I believe it will aid us in seeking His guidance."

He held the circlet upon his open palms, raising it in a gesture that invited Manwë to touch it.  The Vala did so without hesitation, but with delicate respect.  "I thought from the first that Eru meant this to be more than a simple signet of honor, but I was suffering from my own selfish distractions, at the time."  He closed his eyes as he attempted to concentrate more deeply upon the item in question.  

Presently, he released a deep sigh.  "This is truly wondrous.  I can sense that it resonates with the love of the One, yet I cannot perceive how it does so."  He opened his eyes, which crinkled at corners in the faintest of frowns.  "Nor can I feel the direct connection to Him that you are able to feel."

"That may be because it was made for me alone.  Nonetheless, I feel in my heart that it is an essential part of what we must do now."  The Maia studied the glimmering circlet with more than an intense gaze.  "Perhaps...."  His eyes shone brightly in a reflection off the crystal, the intense blue of a flame's heart; then suddenly, both he and the circlet vanished.

But Manwë's vision was not only the keenest in Eä, it was also that of an Ainu.  He saw that Olórin had not departed, but had merely shed his fana and assumed his natural form.  Although his raiment had dissolved into its own most essential state, the circlet was somehow still present, in the form of a kind of energy that was separate from his own, and yet linked to it.  That perception intrigued him, and the Vala shed his own fana to study it without the interference of corporeality.

This is most unusual, he said to the Maia in their native speech.  It has lost the shape of the crystal, but the energy that remains is not that of any of the substances of Eä.  It resonates to the Flame Imperishable, but does not live as such — yet it is alive in its own fashion, for it is not merely energy that is held captive in a matrix, like the silmarils  Have you perceived this?

Only recently, Olórin admitted.  I was told that it would draw to it the power of the Secret Fire to heal me, but as that healing progressed, that aspect of it diminished, yet its overall energy did not.  Indeed, there are times I can feel it grow stronger, and I have begun to entertain notions of why this might be so.  If I may be so bold as to lead you in this, I think I may have discovered how Father wishes for us to use this now.

Manwë acquiesced without even a trace of hesitation.  Lead on, brother, he replied.  

A ripple of pleasure emanated from the Maia, his joy in the easily spoken reminder of their relationship.  Keeping the energy that was the circlet between them, he began to rise into the skies above the ridge; Manwë followed.  Swiftly they soared ever higher, until they were at the uttermost edge of the airs of Arda.  Even the highest peak of Taniquetil was now far below them, and only the thin traces of the outer atmosphere provided any connection to the physical world.  Here, away from the presence of other beings, where not even the mightiest of birds flew nor any of the Ainur dwelt, it was as if the veil between the worlds of spirit and substance had also grown thin.  Above them, the stars were visible through the last wisps of air, while below them, the globe of their second Arda shone blue and white and green in the midday light of Anor.  In this place between Arda and the void beyond, there were none of the distractions that abounded amid the teeming life of the world below.

Olórin focused his attention upon the energy that was the circlet, allowing all his thought to be drawn into the circle of its power.  Manwë did the same, and was startled by the unexpected sensation of being drawn into the depths of a strangely benign vortex.  It was not the strength of water or wind that enveloped them and pulled them forward, but rather a tremendous rush of emotion so powerful, it could not be denied.  Recognizing its benevolence, both Maia and Vala surrendered to it.  They did not move from where they were, but it seemed as if the power of the circlet grew until it was all about them, enveloping them in a great bubble of complete peace and love.

Overwhelmed by the experience and the joy of their current state, they remained still and silent until they felt the warmth of Another smiling upon them.  Although they had not moved beyond the bounds of Eä, they sensed that they were in a state in which they could perceive what lay beyond as if they were gazing through clear glass.  "Welcome, my children," a familiar Voice said, each utterance a greeting that was in itself a loving embrace.  "I am delighted to see that you have found this path at last."

It was Olórin who answered first.  "As am I — although I think we could not have found it sooner, Father.  You meant for me to be healed from my hurts of the past age before Your gift could be used in this fashion, didn't You?"

The soft laughter that came in response was of simple delight, not mockery.  "Indeed I did, for your well-being was of greater importance to me.  Until then, all that came to light yesterday could have waited until a later time to be revealed."

Manwë did not question that statement, though it raised its own questions.  "Yet it seems to have become a matter of importance so quickly, I wonder if it would have waited much longer."

He felt the kind smile of the One as warmth that was not physical.  "Perhaps not, but that which this touches upon the most would have waited, nonetheless.  The reactions of the Maiar which Eönwë reported to you have their roots in feelings that they have allowed to fester for more than the few years since Olórin's return from Endorë.  Some have their beginnings in the time before Time."

Neither Ainu was wholly surprised by this revelation, although Olórin was somewhat more aware of it than Manwë.  "I have often suspected as much," he admitted.  "There are a handful of Maiar who have always seemed to grow cold in my presence, and it was not until long after Arda was fully established that I began to understand that they resented me for reasons I could not comprehend.  Were they aware of the kinship between us?"

"No," was the firm reply.  "But some were aware from the beginning that there was mutual affection between you and Manwë, and they allowed their envy to become bitter jealousy.  Too many, I fear, did so because they themselves admired Melkor, and began to emulate him in ways they did not understand would prove harmful to themselves.  His initial jealousy toward the Maiar prompted him to at first reject those who attempted to draw closer to him, until he realized that he could use that attraction to bind them into his service.  I believe you are acquainted with at least one who was injured by his jealous contempt."

"Aránayel," Olórin said without hesitation.  "She admitted that she was jealous of me because I had been accepted by Manwë where she had been rejected by his brother, whom she had once admired."

"But that matter was resolved years ago," the Vala pointed out.  "Surely she has not relapsed into her old ways so quickly...."

There was reassurance in the One's reply.  "She has not, for she took the lessons of the past to heart.  But others have not learned so well, and they are the ones who need to be given an opportunity to reevaluate their attitudes.  That is an issue which needs resolution, for there are many ancient wounds among your people in Eä which require healing.  I did not think that you would object to being a part of that healing, either of you, for you have both ever sought to mend the marring of the Music."

Both Ainur agreed.  "I wish that it need not have been the result of what I remembered at last in the Reckoning," Olórin sighed, a sound which Manwë echoed.

They both felt the compassion of their maker sweep through their spirits, easing the hurt.  "As do I.  Indeed, I would have preferred that there be no unpleasant repercussions to what should have been a joyful discovery.  But I gave all of you the gift of free will, and it did not come with the gift of all wisdom.  Those who have been slow to learn to be wise tend to slip into folly, and the resentment toward what came to light yesterday is indeed folly.  I have always held the two of you to be brothers, in heart and spirit if not in rank or power.  I made it so when I fashioned you in my thought, Olórin, though I did not reveal it to you in the beginning because I knew already that Melkor would use it as an excuse to do you harm.  But did the lack of full understanding in any way diminish the love in your heart?"

"No," the Maia admitted.  "I would have liked to be certain that what I felt was not mere wishful thinking, but the delay in arriving at that knowledge does not change the reality of it, nor its depth.  And I certainly do not regret the protection that ignorance afforded me!  For I know beyond question that if it had been known from the beginning that I was Manwë's brother, others besides Melkor would have considered me an enemy or a rival, and acted accordingly."

Manwë agreed.  "Which is why I cannot regret overmuch the delay in confirmation.   There is so much good that you have done since our beginnings that would have been even more difficult — if not impossible — had our elder brother and all who followed him been set against you as my kin.  Even those who are merely afflicted with unresolved envy would have presented far more problems."  He turned his focus to the One.  "What puzzles me is why You made this choice at all, Father.  Would it not have sufficed if we had remained brothers in heart alone?"

There was an certain wry ingenuousness to the response.  "Ah, but would either of you have acknowledged such a connection, openly?  Or would it have remained hidden in your hearts until the End?  Even the troubles with Aránayel did not bring it into the open."

"And it should have," the Vala acknowledged.  He sighed deeply.  "Perhaps neither of us understood the nature of our affection, but if its existence had at least been admitted from the first, I could not have acted so precipitously in my first punishment of Aránayel, ages ago."  His tone became both wry and remorseful.  "Varda would not have permitted it even if I had considered it, and a good deal of suffering might have been prevented.  But after so long a time of habitually avoiding the truth, I fear that I did indeed require such a public revelation to push me into admitting what my heart had known for all the ages of the world."

He was about to address Olórin when the Maia forestalled him.  "There is no need to apologize, brother," he said, correctly perceiving what the Vala had been about to say.  "I know that your denial had nothing to do with me, or rather it was not because of me, or because you would have been shamed by such an admission.  If that had been so, you would be shamed by it now, and you are not.  If Father did not think it wise for us to know the entire truth sooner, then we could not have known — and even if I had known for certain, I don't think I would have spoken of it to anyone.  You are right when you say that it would have hindered much of what I needed to do, and also much of what was needed of you.  We have already discussed this, and I am content to let it go."  

He turned again to the One.  "So, Manwë and I are brothers, as You created us.  I know You cannot tell us what to do about those who do not care for this news without suborning the freedom of our own wills, but I still feel that You wished for us to seek Your guidance now — and that Your gift to me is somehow a part of it." 

The glow of their Maker's smile was both calming and joyous.  "Indeed.  I knew that when you began to perceive more of the true nature of my gift, it would be time for us to speak again.  There are puzzles and contradictions that vex you, are there not?"

"For both of us," Manwë said in complete honesty.  "My tasks in the formation of Arda concerned much more of the basic substances and functions of the natural laws that would govern its very being, yet Olórin noticed before I that his circlet was not a mere construct of crystalline forms."

"No doubt because he has lived with it upon his person for nigh onto all of five years," Eru allowed most graciously.

"No doubt," the Vala agreed, accepting that observation with good humor.  "Yet it remains a puzzle.  Clearly, it is not mere crystal or any other gemstone, as it appears to be.  Nor is it a repository for another scientifically discernible energy, such as light.  You told Olórin that it was fashioned to draw to it the power of the Secret Fire — of the Flame Imperishable, the spark of Life itself — to heal him.  But if there existed a substance capable of doing so, Melkor surely would have discovered it, and used it to give life to his own creations.  Yet we know he failed in that ambition.  What is this?"  Manwë's puzzlement was genuine, as was his desire to understand what he could not perceive on his own.

The softness that touched the One's smile was that of a parent sympathetic to the frustration of a child attempting to learn something that persisted in eluding him.  "Something ordinarily less tangible than light, but no less real.  It is a manifest form of that which Olórin gave to me, returned to him in a manner that would resonate with what I gave to him long ago, so that he might better perceive that connection which is ever between us.  What it is is that which Melkor never grasped, what is the essence of the Flame Imperishable.  He could not find it for all his searching because he failed to see that it resided within him — the first gift I give to all my children."

The light of comprehension dawned on both Ainur in the same moment, although Olórin spoke a fraction of a second sooner.  "Your love," he whispered, awed by the mere concept that what he had been given was his own love of their Father made tangible by Eru's love for him.  He could say no more, so overwhelmed was he by the magnitude of the gift.

Manwë was no less impressed, but as it did not touch upon him so directly, he was able to remain somewhat more detached.  "It is a magnificent gift, Father, and one that Melkor could never have understood, not after he allowed false pride and jealousy to devour his heart.  None of us were ever able to explain to him that love is not a finite thing, especially not Your love, but he would not believe us." 

He sighed softly, regretfully.  "That is perhaps the most terrible pain I have ever known, admitting that I could not love my own brother enough for him to feel it, to save him from the path of destruction.  But I know now that no one could have loved him as he wished to be loved — selfishly, wanting all for himself and none for others.  It was his choice, not my failure."

The One's smile brightened.  "I am pleased to see that you understand this at last.  This is why I gave you a second brother, so that you might one day heal from that hurt, and why now was the time for that gift to be revealed.  And I gave you to Olórin so that he might one day fully understand that even the most humble of servants is no less worthy of great love than the highest of kings."

The Maia had recovered enough to loose a small sound of amusement.  "You had already taught me that lesson through the Hobbits, my Lord — although I confess that I had not viewed that particular lesson so personally before yesterday's events.  I do not believe I could have seen that aspect so well without this most recent revelation."

Manwë agreed.  "And I believe I am beginning to see how this bears upon the issues that require resolution among our people.  Am I in error in thinking that their attitudes spring from feelings of rejection and neglect?"

"You are not," the One confirmed.  "Consider that certain of their feelings and beliefs are misguided — not evil, but they are being distorted by negative emotions which they have harbored for so long, they can no longer see how they are being affected by them.  With this in mind, I believe you will be able to trace the path and see where and how their perceptions went astray."

The Vala nodded.  "Yes, I believe we can, as I can also see that all that has happened was necessary for us to reach this point.  It required such an unprecedented event as yesterday's news to rouse the misguided into speaking openly."  He snorted.  "I have no idea who began the rumor that Olórin was about to be made a Vala, but I see now that it is a good example of just how far some have strayed upon the path of error."

Eru chuckled.  "Indeed, for those Ainur who would think such a thing clearly do not comprehend their own nature, or have forgotten it.  The Eldar, however, do have some justification for such thoughts, given what occurred within the family of Tuor.  But there is no need for such a thing to happen, this time.  Your status and power is in no way relevant to your kinship, nor do you, Olórin, need the burden of increased responsibility.  You often take upon yourself more than your fair share, as it is."

The Maia laughed merrily at this truth.  "Yes, so I have often been told!  I will not doubt it again, since You agree, Father.  I cannot say that You were wrong to have made us brothers, but I will admit that I do not understand why You chose to do so in this fashion.  Would it not have been more... proper for the brother of a Vala to be another Vala?"

The One's smile became wistful.  "By the thinking of some, yes, I suppose it would have.  But you must understand, both of you, that in my thought, all of the Ainur are as one people, all my Children of the world disincarnate.  It was not I who made the distinction between those who came first and those who came later, believing you to be of two separate kinds.  Yes, the Valar have great power and skill, but that was given them so that they could teach their younger brethren when the time came for the Music to be made manifest.  But you are all brethren, as the oldest and youngest of the Elves are of no different flesh, no matter what they call themselves or how they order their nations.  You are both Ainur, and that is enough.  Any other distinction is of no consequence in your relation."

Manwë chuckled, understanding.  "It is only important to us, who saw the difference in our skills and training, and believed it to be a difference in our fundamental natures."

"Just so.  Those who came to be called the Valar came first so that I could teach them all I wished for them to know before I brought forth their younger brethren.  It was my intent that they would then instruct their younger kin as I had instructed them, out of love.  But even as the first of these younger children came into being, I perceived Melkor's jealousy and the harm it would bring.  When I chose to counter some of the pain caused by his choices through a younger brother, I knew that one who was acquainted with the subtle strength of humility would be a better choice than one who was of great status and overt power — for the latter he would see only as a threat, and proof that I no longer loved him.  He never understood that my love for him has not diminished in any way from that brief moment when he was first, and alone.  He could not comprehend that you, Manwë, were his complement, not his rival.  If you, Olórin, had been intended to be ranked as what you call a Vala, he would have seen your kinship with Manwë at once and concluded that you were meant to join forces against him.  How could he not, once his heart had been stained with envy?  At that time, the emergence of another Teacher — which he thought of only as a Power — would, to his mind, have meant that those already in existence were somehow inadequate, requiring another, more powerful than they, to make up for their insufficiency.  You would have been a more terrible rival to him than all the others, and the consequences for the Music — and thus for Arda — would have been even more disastrous."

Both Ainur could see those awful possibilities.  "It would have been just as you say," Manwë concurred in a soft, thoughtful tone.  "I never could understand Melkor's persistently rebellious nature, nor his selfishness, but I have always known that it was power he most desired, and most feared — that a power might exist that was greater than he himself."

Eru's response was one of loving pride.  "And there you have the reason for his rebellion.  He knew that I existed, and was greater than he.  He believed that the ability to create living things would make him at the very least my equal, and felt that I deliberately withheld it from him to prevent that.  He never saw that the greatest power of life is love, and he himself could have shared it with others and thus found what he sought.  He could have given his love to others and thereby multiplied it, but he hoarded it, and made his own heart shrivel and die.  It saddens me that he who might have been the greatest of all my children made himself the greatest failure.  And yet, there is hope, for in the end, his madness might be healed even as Arda will be healed.  The choice remains with him."

Olórin, who had been quiet, deep in thought, spoke up.  "I see the wisdom of Your choice, Father," he said slowly, still thinking.  "But even though You gave us the gift of free will with the gift of Your love, You must have known that in time, we would make the distinction between Valar and Maiar, just as the Children divide themselves into clans and tribes and nations."

"I did," the One confirmed.

"Then You knew how our people might perceive this revelation, that Manwë and I are brothers."

There was a new brightness in Eru's smile, of delight, not mocking.  "Of course.  And I have a purpose in bringing it to light now as well."

Until now, it had seemed to the Ainur that they were within a sphere of pure light, apart from the rest of Eä yet still within its circles, speaking with their Maker through the clearest of all windows, in His presence but not yet with Him in the Timeless Halls.  Suddenly, the light faded and the world around them became visible once more, the stars above and the globe of their Arda below, beautiful in its many-colored glory.  The light of Ilmarin was almost directly below them, and the lands of Valinor and Eldamar spread from the mountains like the most exquisite of tapestries.

"You are aware of the growing unrest among the Firstborn in Aman," the One said, the sight below reminding them of this.  "And the news of yesterday has also brought to your notice a similar discontent among your own people."

The latter statement was aimed directly at the Elder King, and he did not deny it.  "It was almost inevitable, I fear," Manwë said with a deep sigh.  "Too many of the Maiar who came to help in the making of Arda have become too attached to it; they have no wish to take up the task of working with new worlds, and the new Children who inhabit them."

"Nor did I intend that they should, unless that is their wish.  There is still much to be done for Arda, of both this dimension and the first, and there are many of your kindred who remained behind in the Timeless Halls who now desire to be a part of the worlds that are yet to come.  There is a great similarity between the growing plight of the Eldar and that of your Maiar.  Neither can be healed through anger and bitterness, but true healing cannot come if those feelings remain hidden, buried and festering.  That is where your kinship becomes most important."

Though they were still unclad, Olórin's frown was quite plain.  The One chuckled softly, reassuringly.  "No, that is not its sole purpose, my son, so do not do more than think it!  In my thought you are brothers because of your natures, and would be so no matter how events had turned since the beginning.  I created both of you out of love, for what I conceived in that moment, and for all that you could be in your lives thereafter.  The potential that lay within you was yours to discover, to nurture as you choose.  The greatest purpose of your kinship is one of love, which you have always shown and shared, regardless of what you are called.  But it is by the example you show now as brothers that a catalyst can be provided for the healing which is needed.  That is why I wished to converse with both of you so directly at this time, to be certain that you understood why I had done this.  If even one of you doubts that your relationship is genuine and not a mere fancy, others will also doubt, and the good that may come of it will be diminished."

The frown vanished.  "I have no doubts, Father, truly," the Maia said most emphatically, and contritely.  "Forgive me if I seem unduly suspicious.  I fear that in my heart, I am not fully recovered from my recent years in Endorë.  Matters there easily led one to be wary of the motives of others, even those whose purposes were good and noble.  Too often, they led to woe.  I trust You.  I would not exist but for Your love, and in my deepest heart, I know that any designs You have for us are always ones for the greatest good."

There was infinite compassion in the One's reply.  "I know, my son, and I know that some wounds of the heart which you suffered will not fully heal until the Music is made right at the End.  This lingering effect of life in the flesh will teach you even greater wisdom, but the less pleasant aspects will fade much sooner, I promise you."

"It eases my heart to know this," Manwë said with his own sympathetic smile for his brother.  "Like you, Olórin, I know that Father has a purpose and will make right all that has gone awry since the Music began — including all the serious harm that came of our mistakes — but it pains me whenever I see even a glimpse of the hurts you suffered in carrying out my command.  I think we will both heal the better now, with the joy of our kinship to sustain us.  And I believe I am beginning to see ways in which this might lead us to resolve our current problems."

"Then our time together has been fruitful."  The loving smile of the One turned to Olórin.  "I am pleased to see that you followed my instructions concerning your gift, even though it discomfited you at first.  You may be glad its know that its healing aspects are no longer required.  If you wish to set it aside permanently, you may."

For a moment, the Maia said nothing, his attention turned toward the energy that was the circlet.  "I am glad to know that I am fully healed," was his earnest reply.  "But now that I may put it aside, I find that I am loath to part with it.  Were it merely an ornament of crystal, perhaps I would feel otherwise, but knowing that it is Your love for me made tangible, I cannot bear the thought of abandoning it."

"Even though it may make you uncomfortable, from time to time?"

"Yes.  Especially now, with the things some are construing from it, because of what was revealed yesterday."

A trace of good-natured humor touched the One's voice.  "Then it may interest you know that henceforth, you may alter its shape as you see fit.  Perhaps it would be less distressing to you to carry it in another guise, such as a ring or wristlet."

If the incorporeal Maia had had eyes, they would have widened in an expression of astonished delight.  His answering, "May I?" was almost that of a youngster who has just been told that he might at long last do something that had been an elusive heart's desire.

Both Eru and Manwë laughed at this response, but kindly.  "Yes, little one, you may," the former assured him.  "You have earned my gift in many, many ways, and there is no reason you should be forced to give it up, or endure discomfort of any kind because of it.  That was never my intent.  Now, you are healed, and more than healed: you have grown, as all your people might have grown, but too few did — though perhaps they may yet choose paths toward their own enrichment, and all of Arda's.  I gave the Ainur control over the substances of the world, so why should you not have control over the appearance of something that had a part of its source in you?"

That had not occurred to Olórin, and it neatly dispelled any mild chagrin he had felt over his reaction.  "There is no reason at all, my Lord, especially now that its healing function has been served.  Thank You for telling me this.  I am not certain yet what I will do, but it is good to know that I have such an option."

"Which is precisely why I told you."  Eru smiled upon them both, an embrace that was not physical, but was warmer and deeper and of perfect love.  "Go now, my sons, discuss this with the others.  I think you will find that they have ideas which will also be most useful."

Next:  Smaller Matters