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No Greater Love, Part Two: Repercussions  by MJ

VIII

Dinner and Deviousness

"Are all of us invited for dinner?" Ulmo asked as they continued on at a leisurely pace, nodding and smiling at those who acknowledged their passing.

"Do you think Varda would have it otherwise?" Manwë replied, his tone serene but the sparkle in his eye impish.  "Our household staff is delighted whenever we have guests of the Eruhíni, and those who enjoy cooking have been especially thrilled to be providing for our esteemed Hobbit cousins.  Nárenilda had promised Bilbo a proper Hobbit supper yesterday, but she lamented that she didn't have as much time as she would have liked to make it truly proper.  She wanted to try again today, even after Varda warned her that there would be many extra guests.  She's thrilled to have another chance with such a distinguished group of diners."

Frodo chuckled. "Nárenilda may be happy, but are you sure all your lords and ladies will be?  Our dishes are hearty, but not as refined as the Elven cuisine I suspect many are accustomed to."

"Then it will be a welcome change," Tulkas said, his opinion seconded by nods from Oromë and Aulë.  "Not that I'm criticizing them, mind you, but most of us have never had a chance to share this part of the culture of the Secondborn."  He snorted softly.  "Other than Manwë and Varda and Olórin, none of us have had the pleasure of tasting the fare of the Hobbits."

"Not true," Irmo contradicted.  "Estë and I had that privilege this past Midsummer, at the celebration in Lórien.  Master Frodo has been giving Ványalos instruction in Hobbit cuisine since the day after he arrived in the Hill Country, and they were both very eager to show us all he has learned.  We enjoyed it immensely."

The talk wandered into recollections of other pleasant celebrations as they made their way to the Elder King's mansion.  It was perhaps a quarter of an hour before sunset when they arrived.  As they entered the great mansion, they found not only the seven Valiër awaiting them, but the fourteen Messengers and Eönwë as well.  From their expressions, the Maiar had considerable news, not all of which was pleasant.  Ványalos appeared particularly unsettled, the red of anger on his normally cheerful face clashing rather peculiarly with the coppery hue of his hair.

Manwë noticed all this as well, and sighed.  "Will this wait until after we have dined, or should we deal with it now?" he asked the ladies.

Varda smiled wryly.  "As much of the news of the day has already been shared among us in ósanwë, I believe the discussion of it can wait.  I for one would prefer to enjoy the hard work of our cooks on a calm stomach rather than an unsettled one."  To Frodo's surprise, she winked at him, and he suddenly understood that she had caught his stray thought, wondering if the Ainur were capable of suffering from such fleshly distress.  Her amiable jest made him chuckle, and dismiss the matter as irrelevant.

The meal was taken in the great banquet hall of the mansion, so that all the Valar and the Maiar who had come could partake.  The western wall of the hall held many tall and wide windows that were now filled with the beautiful display of the setting sun.  Before taking their seats, they followed the custom of many in Aman, and sang their thanks for the day, the exquisite voices of the Ainur so enthralling to their mortal guests, they were not able to join them until almost the very end.  When the song concluded, they stood for a moment more in respectful silence until the last edge of the sun disappeared below the far horizon.

Being a meal in the Hobbit fashion, it was less formal than might have otherwise been the case, with no rigidly assigned seating and a casual atmosphere.  The servers brought trays and bowls and platters to the tables where things could be passed about, and extras were set at sideboards, along with pots and pitchers of various beverages.  Some of the couples sat together; Bilbo remained alongside Varda, having taken to her immensely, and the star-queen delighted to dote upon him. Frodo was happy to see Ványalos again and chose a seat across the table from him.  Olórin had elected to sit beside his neighbor, and to Frodo's amazement had to cajole him into doing more than pick at his food.

"It's not that the food isn't excellent," the redhead assured them as he poked at a savory cheese and mushroom tart that Frodo happened to know was one of his favorites in Hobbit cuisine.  "It's just that hearing what I heard today has taken away my appetite — a difficult thing to achieve, as I'm sure you know!"

Yaisawen and Failaner — the twin Maiar who served as messengers for Námo and Nienna — both grinned at Ványalos's complaint.  "Impossible, so I've heard," Yaisawen, the auburn-haired elder of the two quipped.  Her smile faded as she added, "Although under the circumstances, it's fully understandable.  Until today, I had never thought that any of our people who did not follow Melkor could be so... petty and self-absorbed.  Aránayel was a fool, and somehow managed to misguide herself, but she at least was consistent in her behavior.  To the best of my knowledge, she never went about saying one thing while obviously expecting another."

Olórin nodded.  "You must be referring to Lintamacar."

But Failaner shook his head, his own thick auburn hair brushing his shoulders.  "Not just him.  We spent much of the day going hither and thither on errands that were intended to allow us to listen for indications of unrest.   Most of us found that most of the Valar have at least several in their service whose thinking is quite similar.  It isn't precisely that they dislike you personally, Olórin..."

"Though Eru knows, some do, for the most ridiculous reasons," Ványalos interjected sourly.

"...but rather that they harbor considerable feelings of having been cheated, which makes them extremely envious of what they feel are rewards lavished upon you."

The Istar sighed heavily.  "I have known many Elves who feel that the Ainur who did not side with Melkor must be free of such emotions.  I suppose that if naught else of good comes from this, it will at least provide an example that will finally convince them that they are in error."

Frodo suddenly found himself bristling with outrage.  "You consider that good?" he asked, appalled.  "Olórin, have you lost your mind?"

Ványalos managed a crooked smile.  "If he believes what he just said, yes.  I know that you have a well-earned reputation for wisdom, pityandil, and under any other circumstances, I would say that your observation shows remarkable patience and insight — but in this, you are wrong.  The kind of example this sets for the Children is one they do not need, from us or anyone else.  We are supposed to be their guides and teachers, but not in how to behave abominably toward one another!"

The vehemence in the normally insouciant redhead's manner took Olórin aback for a moment, especially when he saw it reflected in Frodo's face.  He glanced at the twins, and at the others seated at their table, and realized that they all felt the same.  In ósanwë, he saw many images of what the messengers had seen and heard, and he knew that they were not exaggerations.  "I stand corrected," he said softly, suppressing a shiver of reaction.  "I wanted to believe that Lintamacar was an example of the worst response to our Father's revelation."

Alyanis, Estë's messenger, was seated beside Yaisawen, and had shared her own experiences of the day in their brief exchange of thoughts.  "He may not be quite as intensely negative as some of the others, but he has certainly been the most vocal about it.  Truly, Olórin, it is comparatively few of our people who think this way, and I do not believe that any of it is actual hatred toward you, or Lord Manwë.  There is a greater undercurrent of... disillusionment, I would say, toward the Valar whom the malcontents serve.  Most of them want greater recognition from those Valar to whom they have dedicated their lives, as they see it, and because they feel that they have not gotten it for one reason or another, they believe their efforts have been deemed insufficient and unworthy."

Ványalos snorted.  "That may be so, but it doesn't excuse their behavior.  Attacking innocents is never an acceptable solution to any problem, real or imagined."

"I should say not!" Frodo agreed most emphatically.  He had not been privy to the communication the Maiar had shared, but his experience of the previous day was enough for him to deduce what had been in the exchange.  "Obviously, none of us are immune to the temptations of our baser emotions.  If the Ainur were, Melkor would not have rebelled, nor those who followed him.  But I know from my own experience that people who believe they deserve something and then take out their frustrations on those who have what they want inevitably wind up causing trouble.  By and large, Hobbits are peaceful and content with their lives, but then there were the Sackville-Bagginses.  They let their resentment over what they felt should rightfully be theirs taint their entire lives, and ultimately all of the Shire. I doubt that the Shire would have come through the War wholly unscathed once it became of interest to Sauron and Saruman, but Lotho's notions of what he thought he should have made things much worse.  Oh, he was a splendid example of how bad a Hobbit can get if he becomes greedy and too full of himself — and if the others hadn't let him get away with it right from the start, Saruman's ruffians might not have had such an easy time of moving in and taking over.  Merry once told me that I wouldn't rescue the Shire by being shocked and sad, and you won't solve this problem by being shocked and sad either, my dear Olórin."

For a long moment, the Istar was completely still, both his thoughts and his expression unreadable; then, he smiled, softly.  "Now I understand why Manwë wishes for you to come to our court tomorrow.  Though we have different fates and powers, we are all Eru's children, with the same capacities for both folly and wisdom.  This world was made to be the habitation of the Eruhíni; we are, in the end, merely guests, here to be of service to the realization of the Music we sang, and the Creator we love.  When others mentioned your worthiness to be counted among the Maiar, they spoke a greater truth than perhaps they intended.  You have comported yourself with more dignity and wisdom than some of my kind have shown, Frodo, and I thank you for it."

The hobbit blushed, at the unexpected praise and the approving nods and glances of the others at the table.  "You're welcome," he said with only a slight trace of a stammer.  "But all I've done is spoken the truth."

"That can be the greatest wisdom of all," Ványalos declared with uncharacteristic sobriety.  "You spoke plainly, without any embellishment or exaggeration which might obscure that truth, or lead others to draw erroneous conclusions."

Frodo sniffed.  "But isn't that what some of Valar did when they implied that I might be made a Maia?"

"Perhaps," Yaisawen allowed.  "And I do not believe that the ends justify the means, if the means are wrong, and hurtful to others.  But did any of them say that you should be counted among the Maiar?"

The hobbit considered this, then shook his head.  "No.  At most, they said that I deserved it, but not that it should actually happen.  In fact, at least once, Lord Manwë bluntly said such a thing would never happen."

Alyanis chuckled.  "I believe I was nearby when he said it.  More people who overheard reacted to the fact that you called him cousin, I think."

"Just so," said Failaner, nodding.  "What the Valar said of you is true, as Olórin has already observed.  By your actions, you have shown yourself to be in spirit and heart no different than those of us who are not Eru's children of true flesh.  In honor, you deserve to be counted among us, but not in actuality.  What is the need?  Were you to become one of us, you would then be bound by the limits placed upon us, to remain within Eä until its end.  You would lose the Gift of Mortals, and would not be able to follow your kin beyond the circles of the world.  We could not even want to rob you of that blessing.  Yet if those who themselves crave higher rank and reward twist the truth into something that was not intended, they but expose their own crookedness.  No deception is needed, for in their minds, they have already believed such things are possible, of their own free will.  The Valar know this, as do we.  There was never any intent to trick them into believing a lie; rather, it was desired that those who harbor such jealousies and misconceptions be encouraged to express them without coercion, so that in exposing their hurt, they might be healed."

"Just so," Ványalos added.  "I understand that you were disturbed by the argument you overheard yesterday, Frodo.  I was just as disturbed by things I heard today. I do not like to hear anyone maligned, and Olórin is my friend; I love him as a brother as much as Lord Manwë loves him, and thus dislike hearing such things directed toward him all the more.  But only those who allow their own base feelings to blind them to his true worth, and yours, can imagine that the Valar have plotted with our Creator to change what He made both of you to be into something different."

Frodo understood what they were trying to explain, but one thing still nagged at him.  "But isn't that what He did for Lúthien, and Tuor, Eärendil and Elwing?"

"Not precisely," Olórin replied.  "Both Eärendil and Elwing were of mixed blood, and thus had some right to choose their fate, as their sons did.  Lúthien was born of two immortal kinds, and was allowed to give up that immortality for the love of Beren.  Only Tuor was of purely mortal descent, and Eru granted him the life of the Eldar only after his son made his choice.  In that case, it was an act of love, done for the sake of Idril and Eärendil — and, I suspect, because the One knew what Elrond's choice would be. He wished for at least part of their family, which had known so much tragedy and separation yet had done so much to help others, to one day have a chance to be reunited in joy.  In our case, there is no reason for such changes to be made.  They would serve no purpose, not even one of love, as neither of us desire to be other than we are.  Or am I mistaken?"

Frodo blinked.  He had wondered what it might be like to be an Elf — or, less often, an Ainu — and perhaps if Eru had not granted him and Bilbo the blessing of a healed and protected life which they could give up when they were ready to fully accept the Gift, he might have stronger yearnings to be immortal.  No one had ever asked him if he wanted it, not so directly, and he considered his answer for several moments so that he could be wholly truthful.  "No," he finally said.  "No, I'm quite happy being a Hobbit.  I think all mortals wonder what it would be like to never die, especially if they live with immortals, but there's so much more to it than just living a very long time.  And having seen your memory of the Timeless Halls, I want to find out if what awaits mortals is even half as wonderful.  Not soon, of course," he added with a small smile.  "I'm still on the young side for a Hobbit, and there's a lot I want to see and do in this world."

"And I hope to share in some of those things — but I have no wish to become a mortal, nor a Vala," Olórin answered with a small smile of his own.  "I am as Lord Eru made me to be, and I am content.  My only regret is the discovery that others cannot feel the same."

All at the table, Frodo included, nodded their sad assent.  They finished the meal companionably, eschewing grimmer and more contentious topics for a discussion of the fine, and to most quite novel, cuisine.  Frodo, along with Olórin and Ványalos, were happy to answer questions and offer their own observations, which made for a more relaxed mood.  When the meal was over and all but the cups and mugs and glasses for beverages had  been cleared away, Manwë rose.  

Before he spoke, Frodo felt something ripple through the room that set his hair on end and made him shiver.  At first, he thought it was a night wind that had slipped past the tall windows, but he realized a moment later that it was a shiver of power, like the tingle one feels before a near lightning crash.  He glanced about quickly, and the rapt looks in the eyes of all the Ainur told him that they were sharing their news through the swiftness of ósanwë rather than the slower means of physical speech.  The hobbit was glad, for he had dreaded listening to more reports of what he was sure would only echo things that he had heard too much of already.  Very soon, the Elder King sighed.

"So it comes to this," he said, sadly.  "Can it truly be that only the people of Vána have none among them who harbor such bitterness?"

"That does not surprise me," the fair Valië admitted.  "Few of my people were actually involved in combat during the War of Wrath, or its more grim aftermath.  Most of my folk offered everyday but necessary support, such as seeing to the feeding and clothing and comfort of those who were directly involved.  Their work was not as taxing as that of a warrior or a healer.  Indeed, many have felt ashamed that they could not have done more, but I have assured them that their work was sorely needed by both our people and the Eruhíni.  They have long since accepted this, and set any guilt behind them."

Nienna nodded.  "Those few of my people who have revealed this affliction in their hearts are, I believe, less troubled by a need for recognition of their deeds and more by envy.  That Olórin has been my greatest pupil is an old puzzlement to them, for it seems most illogical.  The rumor that he is something other than a Maia is a thing they can seize upon to make sense of that conundrum, yet it also troubles them, for it is new and strange."

"If the incidents our messengers report are even a small fraction of the actual numbers of those upset, I believe we can at least take comfort in the fact that it is still a comparative few who are so stricken," Ulmo pointed out, his manner deeply thoughtful.  "Among my people, I suspect that it is nothing more than envy, not hatred or malice.  There are a few of my folk who would either wish to be my brother in truth, or feel that I should have been created as Manwë's brother, for we have always been very close."

Aulë sighed heavily.  "I wish I could say the same, but I know I cannot.  Ever since Curumo stepped forth to volunteer for the mission of the Istari, some of my people have rankled at any suggestion that he should not be counted as the highest of their order.  He was certainly wise in matters of craft, and very deep in his knowledge of many things, but there have ever been areas in which wisdom eluded him.  When he learned to use his voice to persuade others to his thinking rather than let the merit of his ideas alone provide the persuasion, he began down a dangerous path.  I made many attempts to steer him from it, for it was by such means that Sauron began to think of himself as being superior to his brethren.  Some of my folk did not take well Varda's foresight that Olórin would not be forever his subordinate, and their bitterness deepened when Olórin was charged to replace Curumo after his betrayal by him.  They are sorely in need of healing in their hearts, but alas, that is not among my gifts."

"It is among mine," Námo said in all honesty, "and yet I have not been able to heal all those of my own people who bear a similar affliction.  From the first, when the failure of Pallando became known to us, there were those of my folk who knew him, and came to me when their hearts were troubled by feelings of disappointment, shame, and anger.  Without exception, I was able to assist them in resolving those issues, either alone or with the help of my siblings.  But those who are now demonstrating resentment never spoke of it to me.  What is kept hidden in the heart may remain hidden long before others become aware of its existence.  And thus buried, it may grow to bear bitter fruit."

Irmo agreed.  "For good or ill, that has been the way of it.  Both Námo's people and mine, as well as Estë's, did considerable work during the War aiding those who were wounded both physically and spiritually, or easing the way for those who were dying.  It was a dreadful burden, and many of us were exhausted and in need of considerable rest and healing of our hearts and minds afterward.  I cannot help but think that those who are resentful or angry now never sought as much of those things as they truly needed, perhaps in an attempt to show that they were stronger than others.  I know of at least one of my people whose discontent was revealed today who resumed her work sooner than I had recommended.  But she would not be gainsaid, declaring that she would find the completion of her healing in aiding that of others.  Sometimes, this is true, as the gentle resumption of the very task that was so wearying restores one's confidence in their own ability, and reassures them that the work is not always so overwhelming.  This appeared to have been the case with her, for she hid her resentment well.  Indeed, I wonder if she herself was even aware of it, until recent events and the more open bitterness of others brought it to the fore."

"Likely not," said Nessa.  "Although it is clear that not all can make that claim.  Those of my people who are upset over recent revelations never before showed any sign of discontent.  Yet now, I can see that they were deeply troubled by the fact that their part in the War was not, to their minds, significant.  My archers were most skilled in battling Melkor's beasts and of great help in teaching the Eruhíni who needed to learn from them, but that plainly was not so worthy of note as the role of Eönwë and the warriors who were the vanguard and captains of the assault."

Tulkas loosed a grunt of displeasure.  "My own people were very much a part of that vanguard, beloved, and still, they are some of the most vehement in their complaints!  They have been given praise and told that they have earned honor by many more than I, yet it does not seem to be enough to appease them.  I cannot imagine what it is that they want!"

"Nor I," Oromë concurred, his nod echoed by Yavanna, whose people had fought alongside the Hunter's.  "I cannot think that they missed having a grand victory celebration when the War was ended.  It was a dreadful and painful experience for all involved, especially given how sorely it touched even those who did not fight, and Aman itself.  To celebrate would have been unthinkable.  The memorial that was held was sufficiently difficult."

"But to some who crave recognition, it may not have been enough," Vairë reflected.  The Weaver's function as a historian had not kept her and her people from participating in the battles, but it gave her a unique perspective.  "The memorial was held for the Eruhíni, to begin the healing that needed to occur, especially in the hearts of the Teleri, once the exiles began to return.  Their losses and their contributions were recognized in a public demonstration of respect, yet among us, there was never a single large gathering for that purpose, as there was fear of disturbing the Children.  Perhaps what was needed was more than the recognition we expressed among our individual peoples."

"Perhaps," Varda allowed.  "But that is hardly an excuse to carry such bitterness for two ages of the world.  It may not be proper for one to ask for praise, especially under the painful circumstances that prevailed after the War, but it is even less proper to nurse such feelings into unwarranted spite and malice.  It is wicked to turn those feelings on those who have done nothing to merit such treatment."

"So what are we to do?" Vána asked, bringing the discussion full circle.  "I gather that you have some kind of plan, Manwë, but does it involve more than calling all our people to court and coaxing those who are harboring ill feelings to reveal them?"

"Somewhat more than that," the Elder King replied with a faint smile.  "All of it, of course, hinges upon our ability to do what you have just said, Vána.  We cannot force our people to reveal what they wish to keep secret, and if any remain adamant, some vestiges of the problem will remain."

Bilbo snorted.  "Yes, and very likely get worse again, if I'm any judge of such things.  No matter what Frodo and I did to try to appease the Sackville-Bagginses, they remained convinced that they should be the heads of the family — and in the long run, the entire Shire.  I'm sure you know how that turned out!"

Frodo's initial thought to chide Bilbo for being impertinent vanished as another, better thought occurred to him.  "It certainly didn't turn out well for us, but I think that this time, it might be just what is needed."

Ulmo regarded the younger hobbit curiously, being familiar with the tale Bilbo had mentioned.  "So you think we should just turn over the leadership of our people to the dissidents?"

Frodo smiled impishly.  "Why not?  Oh, I don't mean permanently, of course, but it seems to me that those who crave attention and praise when they say they don't are really wanting the prestige of being the one in charge — and not of just their little corner of things, either."  

He turned to Olórin.  "Wasn't that part of Boromir's problem, and his father's?  They talked about defending Gondor and preserving it for when the king returned, but the truth was, they really wanted to be the king, with full authority, not just stewards holding the land for someone else.  They may never have said it that bluntly, because it would make them look treasonous to others, but that's what was in their hearts.  Or am I in error?"

The Maia shook his head.  "I'm afraid you are not.  And that was also the trouble with Sauron, and Saruman and Melkor.  They wanted the authority to order their worlds as they wished; they were never content to merely be in service to a higher authority.  Melkor wanted to be Lord Eru, Sauron wanted to be Melkor, and Saruman wanted to be Sauron."

Aulë's brow furrowed with thought.  "And yet Sauron appeared content to serve as Melkor's lieutenant for more than an age of the world," he pointed out.

"I believe that appeared content is the operative phrase, my lord," Eönwë replied.  "If that had been truly so, Sauron would have remained with Melkor and would not have established his own strongholds outside Thangorodrim.  I'm certain he convinced Melkor that this was ultimately to his benefit, giving them more than one point of strength in Endorë, but from what I know and saw of him, Sauron was always most attentive to his own interests, not Melkor's.  Even in Númenor, he invoked his name as something he could use to manipulate the king and his followers.  Everything he has done has been with the ultimate goal of preserving and advancing himself, to take the place of Melkor, as Olórin says.  If he were but a loyal and dedicated servant, he would have been working to find ways to free his master, not become him."

"And he has never made that attempt," Failaner said with considerable certainty.  "One of my fellow servants of Nienna, Ardil, is among those who kept watch upon the Doors of Night after Melkor was taken into his final captivity.  Before Father placed His own restraints upon him to ensure that Melkor would remain captive until the End, Ardil was concerned that Sauron or the other fallen Maiar would at least try to free him while it was still even remotely possible, but not a single attempt was ever made.   I know that if it had been my lady Nienna who was imprisoned, I could not have rested until she was freed.  But then, she has my love, not merely my fealty, and I serve her because of that love, not because of her power."

Manwë was not the only one to nod, sadly.  "Yes, love is something my elder brother shared with no one, and I have no doubt that those who followed him or fell to his ways had similar issues."

Lúsinara, Aulë's messenger, sighed.  "I know that it was true of Curumo," she said in a subdued voice.  "I had thought that he and I were close in heart, but I allowed my own feelings to blind me to the truth.  I loved him, and I believe that in our early days, he returned my affections.  But as the ages wore on, he became capable of loving only the works of his hand, the discoveries he made, the knowledge he amassed, the stature he gained.  Love became something he did not give to others without condition.  Perhaps if he had, he would not have strayed from the path of light."  

She looked toward Olórin, her dark eyes full of sadness.  "Do not regret that you could not persuade him to repent, Olórin.  I fear that his desire to lead the Istari was but a step along a road he had sought to follow long before you were charged with that mission.  He ever coveted Sauron's position, and once he had achieved that part of it which had been his among Lord Aulë's people, it was inevitable that Curumo would desire the status Sauron enjoyed in Endorë, once he was there.  He would have wanted to depose him so that no greater servant of the Smith would remain to be his rival, and within Endorë, he would have wished to be held in similar reverence — or fear, if reverence could not be had.  That he wanted all this was not your fault, nor Lord Aulë's.  Curumo could have craved things for the good of others.  Instead, he craved what fed his selfishness, and thus he came to the small, mean end that he deserved."

Though he knew all too well what Curumo had done as Saruman, and how mean his end had been, Frodo felt deep pity for this lady of the Maiar who had loved him.  Touched, he stood and bowed deeply to her.  "I have only met you before in passing, Lady Lúsinara," he said, "but I feel moved by what you have just said.  I did not love Saruman — Curumo, as he was in Aman — for I did not know him until long after he had fallen.  I am told that I had good reason to hate him, for the way he despoiled my home and my country, out of spite and malice.  Yet I could not help but pity him, and wish that he might have chosen to mend his ways rather than succumb to evil.  I never quite knew why — until now.  I think you are right when you say that he did not love others as he ought to have done, and I think he did not truly love himself, either.  Both are a sickness deserving of pity.  I grieve for your loss and hope that someday, there will come a time when Eru Ilúvatar will grant him a chance to see his sickness for what it is, and choose to be healed."

Lúsinara regarded the hobbit with great surprise, then smiled wanly and inclined her head in acknowledgement of his unexpected graciousness.  "That is what I hope as well, Master Frodo, and I thank you.  You are most kind and compassionate."

"He is that indeed," Olórin said, favoring the hobbit with a warm smile before turning to the messenger.  "I share that hope, Lúsinara, for both your sake and Curumo's.  I truly believe that he had a good and wise heart in the beginning, and that he might have cared for you as you cared for him, had he not fallen victim to the lure of pride.  Even before he betrayed Lord Aulë by following the ways of Melkor, Sauron did much that stirred the harmful sort of pride in his fellow Aulendur.  In the end, I believe that was Curumo's greatest mistake, and it became his downfall when he refused to turn away from it."

"That lure has led many to do things they later regret," Manwë agreed, "myself included.  It is in the humbling that comes after our pride fails and betrays us that we learn the wisdom to better resist when it tempts us again."

"And that is what some of our people need to experience now," Námo said.  "The humbling — but not by punishment or degradation.  They need to be made to see and understand the true nature of the pride that has led them to jealousy and bitterness."

Bilbo harrumphed softly.  "Well, then, if that's the case, Frodo has the right idea.  The Sackville-Bagginses were just that way, letting their pride make them jealous and bitter, and greedy.  The mistake my nephew made with Lobelia was not staying around to keep an eye on her — or Lotho.  She wanted the fine home and the prestige.  He wanted more, too much more, and there was no one there who could make him stop, not even his own mother.  As we say, he bit off more than he could chew, and in the end, it bit him back."

Manwë had been gazing upon the elderly hobbit as he spoke, his expression growing thoughtful.  "I see your point," he said when Bilbo was finished.  "Properly offered, a taste can be as good as a feast — and a feast can make one sick if they hunger for it to the point of gluttony."

Varda looked up at her spouse, her eyes gleaming with amusement at the way he had couched his response in terms a hobbit would find appropriate.  "I understand what you mean, beloved.  But can it be done in such a way that it will not bite us back, as Bilbo says?"

The wind-lord's glance shifted from Bilbo to Varda, then to Frodo and Olórin.  Both the Maia and the hobbit wore faintly impish smiles; the latter nodded.  Manwë caught his brother's brief thought, and returned the smile.  "Yes, I believe it can.  We will proceed as we have planned, and come tomorrow, we will find who of our people are content with a taste, and who will succumb to the lure of gluttony."

He bowed to the Mentacolindor, most of whom were regarding him with curious or mildly puzzled expressions.  "I thank all of you for the help you have given us today, and regret if your service brought you any discomfort.  Your assistance in this effort has been invaluable, for with the information you have provided as well as the suggestions that have been offered, I believe we can restore harmony among our people without resorting to severe measures.  Cousin Frodo," he added with a genial smile, "I thank you as well for your cooperation today.  If you are still willing to attend our court on the morrow, we will arrange your transportation to Ilmarin tonight."

"Would you like for me to be there as well?" Bilbo asked.  "I'll understand if you say no, of course, since I'm not trying to intrude on your business.  But if it would be helpful to have me there, I'm willing to come."

Manwë considered the suggestion for a few moments.  "It might be of help, although I have no desire to draw you into a matter that might prove uncomfortable for you."  His glance shifted from Bilbo to sweep the others in the hall.  "Are there any objections — or further insight anyone might wish to offer?"

Oromë snorted, grinning crookedly.  "Not that you won't proceed as you see fit, regardless," he joked, then turned more serious.  "I know something more of the Hobbits than many of our people, and from what has been said, I suspect that your plan is to... adapt one of their customs to address our current difficulties."

The Elder King nodded.  "You presume correctly."

Ulmo saw the connection at once.  "Then it would be best if Master Bilbo attended as well," he declared.  "He is the elder, and as such would be considered the greater authority by most of our folk, as they are more familiar with the ways of the Elves."

Riellë, Vána's messenger, appeared quite puzzled, as she was probably the least familiar with the halflings, both as a people and as their guests in Aman.  "I don't understand," she admitted, giving Ulmo a look of apology, in case she had offended him with her interruption.  "What custom are you referring to?"

Ulmo's smile indicated that no offense was taken.  He gestured to Frodo.  "Perhaps you should explain, young Master Baggins, as the idea was yours."

Frodo blushed faintly, but inclined his head in acceptance.  "As far as I know, Lady Riellë, it is something peculiar to the Hobbits.  As a part of our winter celebrations, which we call Yule, those of us who are fortunate enough to have others in our employ set aside one day of the Yule season to honor them.  By our custom, on that day, the servants become the masters and the masters the servants.  In that way, we all learn to appreciate both the privileges and the difficulties of one another's roles.  Obviously, it can't be done in quite the same way when there are many servants and few masters, but the general spirit of the tradition can be suitably adapted, as Lord Ulmo said."

Tulkas made a sound of sudden realization.  "Ah, it would suffice to 'reward' the dissidents in such a way."

"So I believe," Manwë confirmed.

"But have we sufficiently identified the greatest malcontents to implement such a plan effectively?" Yavanna wondered.

It was her messenger, Ornedil, who answered, his tone and expression grave.  "We have, my lady," he assured her.  "As we have been about on this business today, so have others of our people been gathering information and passing it on to us.  Not as spies, but as ones who are also disturbed to find such unrest among us, and wish for it to be healed."

The other messengers made sounds or gestures of agreement.  "I in particular have drawn such confidences," Ványalos chimed in.  "It is widely known that Olórin and I are good friends, and while those who harbor ill feelings toward him have not been inclined to show me their displeasure, those who are appalled by such bitterness and animosity and have witnessed it have been eager to tell me what they know, so that I might inform Lord Irmo, or warn Olórin of these secret enemies.  We Mentacolindor have shared what we discovered throughout the day, and I believe we have identified all of those with the greatest grievances and complaints."

"There are others who are even now verifying the information," Eönwë added, as he had been included in that sharing.  "Before court convenes at dawn, we will know for certain.  The number varies in each of the peoples of the Valar, but there are at most seven and as few as three in each group.  In total, there are sixty-two such dissidents, seven of whom are particularly bitter or angry."

Aulë released a sigh that sounded the deep rumbling of the earth itself.  "Few, as all our people are numbered,  but too many for my liking."  He ran one hand through his dark hair, his expression a mixture of sadness and dismay.  "It grieves me to think that so many believe we have neglected them — or that we may indeed have failed some, by not properly recognizing their efforts."

Manwë was not the only one to commiserate.  "It is indeed a sad discovery, but we will find a way to resolve it.  We can ill afford for this to lead to open strife, for I do not think Arda would survive another war among our people."

Both Bilbo and Frodo paled.  "You — you don't think that could actually happen, do you?" the elder hobbit asked, a bit shakily.  "Goodness, the war with Sauron alone was quite horrible...!"

Varda patted his arm in consolation; Manwë regarded him with blue eyes full of sympathy.  "Every war in which any of our people have been involved has had terrible consequences for Arda; those in which many of us fought were indeed the most destructive.  None of us can say that it is impossible for such a thing to happen again, for Melkor alone was able to begin many long ages of strife.  But for myself, I think it unlikely — and this time, I am speaking with a clearer understanding of evil than I have ever known.  Unless there are some greater and more corrupt persons directing matters in utmost secret, those who are showing displeasure or anger now are not truly evil.  Misguided, perhaps, and selfish, but not evil.  War could happen, but I cannot believe that any of our people wish for that as a supposed resolution to their grievances."

"Nor do I," Námo said, his sentiment echoed by many of the others, Vairë in particular.

"Your own experiences are remarkably similar," the Weaver said, favoring both halflings with a gentle smile and warm understanding in her dark almond-shaped eyes.  "Much as your kin desired position and prominence and wealth among the Hobbits, and were able to find others of like mind to collude with them in acquiring it, none of them wanted the fate that ultimately befell them, or the Shire.  If you had but known how far they might stumble down the path of folly, you might have been able to avert some of what happened, but not all."

"That's true," Frodo allowed after a moment's reflection.  "What happened in the Shire was dreadful, but with or without Lotho's cooperation, I fear Saruman's ruffians would have done what they did.  They turned against Lotho in the end, regardless."

"Just so," Námo confirmed.  "I am not, perhaps, as freely imaginative as others of our people, as it is part of my duty to speak of certainty, not possibility, but as the Keeper of Mandos, I have learned much of the ways of the heart, both its strengths and weaknesses.  Those who let their base emotions gnaw inside them until they are hollow of heart tend to act in ways that are entirely too predictable, even without foresight.  By the time he became interested in your country, Curumo had become so filled with jealousy and a desire for personal power that he could only have avoided what came to pass if he had been willing to let go of those things to make room in his spirit so that the better nature he had abandoned could return."

A frown creased Bilbo's brow.  "But what if these new troublemakers have become like him?" he wondered.  "You can't force them to let go of their envy and bitterness, can you?"

"No," Irmo replied.  "But you and Frodo have given us a way that may allow them to experience the error in their ways that will lead them to believe that changing them will be more to their liking than keeping them.  If they persist in keeping to those habits even then...."  The dream master's shrug was eloquent.

"There are things that can be done which will neither violate their free will nor allow them to continue to spread dissension among us," Manwë assured the hobbit.  "Do not concern yourselves on this account, my cousins.  You have provided us with a path toward resolution that may well be the best for all involved."

With that, he stood and gave a gracious bow to the messengers.  "You have my deepest thanks for the help you have given us today, especially as it was not always the most pleasant of news you had to bear.  I have no doubt that your service will prove invaluable in healing the problems that have been brought to light.  If any of you should chance to hear more that could bear upon these matters before our court tomorrow, please do not hesitate to bring it to our attention."  He was not speaking in the royal plural, but rather meant all of the Valar, who were equally concerned about this situation.  "It is not my wish that you who have been our faithful and trusted couriers should become spies or carriers of idle gossip; indeed, we have ever relied upon your discretion, and not one of you has ever failed in that trust.  But I believe that all of us have been troubled by the bitterness we have found stirring in our midst, and wish to heal it by peaceful means."

He then turned to include the others.  "I thank all of you for your patience and forbearance in this matter.  We  will need to determine the specifics of this plan before court begins tomorrow, so if you would bear with me a little longer this evening, I would ask my fellow governors that we meet in our council chamber in Ilmarin after we have seen to the transportation and comfort of our hobbit guests."  

Manwë gave Frodo and Bilbo a small, warm smile.  "I think it best if you come there tonight," he told them, "so that you might have a full night's rest after the journey."

Frodo, who had been to Ilmarin only once, shivered slightly at the memory of that exhilarating -- and terrifying -- flight on eagle back, and nodded.  "Yes, that' s a very good idea!  Especially if we're to travel as I did the last time, and at night!"

Bilbo, who had heard the tale of that journey, and recalled his own trips via lesser eagles, winced.  "Goodness, you can't be meaning to take us up to the heights of the tallest mountain in all the world, clinging to the back of a giant bird -- in the middle of the night!?"  He looked up at the standing wind-lord, then turned his wide-eyed, stricken face to Varda.

She gave him a sympathetic smile along with a soothing pat on his arm.  "Not to worry, Cousin Bilbo," she assured him.  "We know of the hobbit distaste for such things, and would never wish to distress you so.  No, we had thought to take you in the manner of our people.  For incarnates, such journeys are best done with you asleep, so that the shifting of the very fabric of the world about you will not cause you distress.  When you are ready to go, we will send you to sleep and take you to Ilmarin, where we will see to it that you are made comfortable for the remainder of the night, so that you will awaken refreshed in time to break your fast and prepare yourselves before court begins.  Is this agreeable to you?"  She looked first at the elder hobbit, then at the younger, seeking the approval of both.

Now, the two hobbits traded glances; then Frodo looked up at Olórin, who smiled softly.  "There is nothing to fear," he said with confidence.  "Such movement presents no danger to your lives or minds, but our experiences with the Eldar and their reactions has led us to take this precaution.  They find what we take for granted profoundly unsettling -- much like an extreme version of how most hobbits respond to being taken onto a boat.  If you sleep through the voyage, you never risk any distress."

"That's true," Bilbo agreed with a sigh of relief followed by a small chuckle.  "It wasn't merely because of old age that I slept away so much of the journey from Middle-earth!  And when we wake, breakfast will be ready?"

He said it with such eagerness and such a hungry and roguish gleam in his eye, it brought laughter to many lips and smiles to all.  "We will have it served to you in bed, if you like," Manwë promised with a wide, fond smile of his own.  And so it was settled.

Next:

Before the Dawn





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