XIV

Enquiring Minds

That evening, shortly after the hobbits finished the excellent supper Nárënilda had provided, Estë arrived with a number of questions from her Maiar.  They were not quite as curious as Námo's, but by the time Frodo and Bilbo had given her satisfactory answers, they were more than ready for bed.

The next morning, Nienna arrived not even an hour after breakfast, also with inquiries from her people.  Bilbo fell asleep somewhere in the midst of their long discussion, needing his afternoon nap; he woke just as the lady was preparing to depart.  The remainder of the day was quiet, and the Mortals were able to spend it enjoying the company of their hosts — a particular delight for Bilbo, as Manwë was genuinely interested in hearing any of the poems the hobbit had written.  Varda's interest in the poetic forms was not so keen, but when she demonstrated how one of Bilbo's works fit perfectly to a tune long beloved by many of the Ainur, both halflings were awed by the breathtaking beauty of both the music and her voice.

The following day, Irmo and Vána showed up at almost the same moment in the early afternoon, while Frodo was being shown some of the more fascinating aspects of the wind chime garden and Bilbo was in the kitchen with Nárënilda, giving her a few pointers on the preparation of some of his favorite dishes.  And when Aulë, Oromë, and  Tulkas came early the next morning before the hobbits had broken their fast or even dressed for the day, Manwë finally put his foot down.

"We invited them here for the week to be our guests and enjoy the hospitality of our house and our city," the Elder King told the trio in no uncertain terms after Márandur had directed him to a study on the topmost floor of the mansion, where both Varda and Olórin joined them.  "They have been commendably patient and accommodating in giving so much of their time to answering all these questions, but we did not invite them here to work, or to be the subjects of examination.  There are well over two full months until their Yuletide begins, and if you must press them with all these enquiries, do have the grace to not impose upon them all at once!"

All three of the visiting Valar had the grace to look somewhat sheepish at their deserved scolding, so much so that Olórin and Varda had to struggle not to laugh or smile too overtly.  "It was just a coincidence of timing," Aulë insisted, despite his abashed expression.  "I had no idea anyone else would come now."

"And I had no idea they'd been so... harassed," was Oromë's alibi.  "I've been busy managing my people's questions and discussions — sometimes very lively discussions," he added with a slight curl of his lip, implying that there had been a few out-and-out fights.  "I haven't been out of my halls in the south since the day of the Court."

"I wouldn't quite describe it as harassment," the Star Queen chimed in.  "I do believe our young cousins have generally enjoyed all the unprecedented interest in their people and their ways.  But as Manwë said, there's time enough before Yuletide.  These questions needn't all be asked and answered inside of one week — a week, I might add, that is almost gone."  Her lips tightened when she said that, a controlled expression of her displeasure over what had happened during the past few days.

The three visitors nodded, much like errant schoolboys caught in some foolishness.  Tulkas sighed, running one hand through his thick golden hair.  "I don't know about your peoples, but some of mine have been driving me to the point where I'd like to take them across my knees and give them a different kind of answer they won't so easily forget!"

Olórin, who was standing near one of the tall leaded-glass windows that allowed the soft early morning light to brighten the comfortable room, kept his own deeper curiosity well-hidden. "Lintamacar?" he asked mildly.

But the Champion shook his head, drawing looks of surprise from all the others.  He immediately clarified.  "Oh, he hasn't been quiet by any means, but he hasn't been asking questions — not like the others, at any rate.  A fair number of my folk are interested in this Yule holiday, the feasting and the celebrating and gift-giving and such, and Nessa's are so impatient to know more about the dancing, it's all she can do to keep them from going to Endorë to pester the poor Shire folk about it.  What he wants to know is just how we're going to make sure the 'right' people are chosen for this Honor Day, and just how much real power and authority they're to be given."

Aulë made a soft sound of unhappy agreement.  "Yes, I've heard similar queries among my people.  So far, they've been polite enough not to press the matter, but I'm well aware that before long, they'll become more insistent."  

The little sigh and nod that came from Oromë showed that the Hunter's experiences were much the same.  "I'm grateful that none of Vána's folk truly care about that aspect of things.  They're totally intrigued by the holiday itself, the merriment and pleasures, and don't care one whit about whether or not any of them are selected to be honored."

"They should be a blessed example to all of us," Manwë commended, only too aware of the issues Tulkas had raised.  "My own people have been more restrained in their various... enthusiasms, but not due to a lack of interest."

"That, my lord, is because of Eönwë," Olórin pointed out, speaking not as a brother but as one of those people.  "He has been their captain in so many things for so long, they trust him to provide them with clear and concise directions for how the... er... campaign is to be carried out, with adequate time to allow for its proper execution.  And many of their questions about the holiday itself have been directed to me, not you.  You, after all, have never lived as a Mortal Man among the various peoples of Endorë, not for one instant."

He made that final observation so drolly, Manwë couldn't help but laugh.  "A good point," he allowed when he mastered his mirth.  "Perhaps I shall, one day.  But in the meantime, we need to address the more immediate situation.  Has Lintamacar been causing trouble among your Maiar, Tulkas?"

Now, the Champion tugged at one of the plaits of his thick golden beard.  "Not in a way that anyone could call trouble.  He raises questions among the others — valid questions, for the most part, but the sorts that can stir up doubts.  This matter of the election of the ones to be honored, for instance.  He's questioned whether or not the Valar will invalidate their choices because they didn't follow specific but unstated rules concerning the process.  And since we didn't actually say anything about the process itself during Court, there are some who wonder if his concern has merit — if we will ultimately manipulate things to honor those we wish to see recognized, not they."

Varda's sigh was heartfelt, as was the look of sympathy she gave him.  "You aren't alone in this, Tulkas.  My own Maiar had several quarrels about these very issues the day after Court.  Fortunately, Ilmarë was able to mediate matters to their satisfaction, without my intervention."

That was something of a consolation to the great warrior, though his mind was not entirely set at ease.  "Frankly, I was hoping someone had come up with a set of rules I can give him, so he'll stop agitating the others.  I didn't come here to ask anything of our hobbit friends, I'm sure we'll learn all we need about the traditions in due time.  I came for advice from you."  He inclined his head toward Manwë, who was both their king and the eldest.  "How much actual authority do we plan to give to those elected?"

The wind lord stroked his chin as he considered this.  "That, of course, is something we Valar must decide, of course.  Clearly, we cannot simply hand over our entire office, no matter how worthy the selected.  Those of the Aratar in particular have responsibilities that are not within the power of any of the Maiar to carry out.  But I do understand your concerns.  It's almost certain that a number of the dissidents will be elected — indeed, that has been our hope all along — and if the authority they are granted on that day is hollow, it will not serve either our purposes or their need for satisfaction."

"Yet neither will a single set of rules suffice," Oromë opined.  "Granting our people the privilege of choice but then restricting the process with rules of our making will ultimately undermine it.  And even the decision as to the ways and degrees of authority to be delegated cannot be universal.  Vána has already told me how glad she is that she needn't worry much about that aspect of this plan."

"While her sister has been fretting without stop over what she should do when the time comes," Aulë said with a sigh so heavy, it was almost a groan.  "I must admit, I see something of Yavanna's point in worrying.  There have been so many among my people who turned against us, it will not be easy for me to grant even a part of my authority to any of them, no matter how briefly."

That was a matter the others understood, all too well.  "It matters not," Manwë assured him, his tone calm but unyielding.  "What temporary authority may be given them will not be given with greater personal power to enforce their wills, whether they be for good or ill.  That would be an alteration of their kind, an augmentation that can come only from Eru Ilúvatar and not from any or all of us."

"Yet what if they should choose to join against us in actual rebellion?" Tulkas asked grimly.  "Our power may be greater than theirs, individually, but they are many and we are few.  To quell a wide scale revolution of Maiar, we would surely destroy much more than was laid waste even against Melkor and his armies.  If we could succeed at all."

That very sobering thought brought some long moments of silence, which were ended when Olórin lightly cleared his throat.  "That may be true, Lord Tulkas, but if I may remind you, only a few days ago, great pains were taken to remind us — all of us, whether we are called Maia or Vala — that we are one people, one kind, of the same origins in the thoughts of the One Who created us.  There is no 'they' or 'we'; there is only us.  Yes, some of us may be misguided and mistaken in our own thinking, but this is nothing new, and those who are are in a vast minority.  Do you truly think that even if half your people turned against you, the other half would not rise up in your support and defense?  Do not make the obstinacy of one or two of your younger brethren into the rebellion of all, not until events prove that such has come to pass."

The five tall Valar regarded the shorter Maia with faces full of wonder; then, Manwë smiled.  "My brother has justly earned his reputation for great wisdom," he declared, inclining his head to said brother in an expression of gratitude.  "If we allow events of the past to make us afraid of what might happen in that part of the future we cannot see, we will surely cause the very outcome we wish to prevent.  Let us instead study the circumstances immediately at hand.  Lintamacar believes that we will disallow the election of any who displease us and base that decision on hitherto unspoken rules.  Is that your concern, Tulkas?"

The Champion nodded.  "Yes, just that.  Couldn't we prevent that by giving out a concise set of rules or guidelines now?"

"Not necessarily," Aulë replied, his dark brow creased in deep thought.  "If we do that, he's likely to then claim that we're attempting to control the outcome by setting contingencies beyond those that were stated during Court.  What he's attempting to do is create a belief that we've set up a no-win situation to assure the results we favor rather than a just outcome."

From his own nod, Oromë had reached the same conclusion.  "It would be in keeping with the elements of unrest that have already been reported to us."

Tulkas, less of a deep thinker than his brethren, was simply appalled.  "Then how do we prevent it?" he wanted to know, plainly at a loss.

Again, Varda favored him with compassion.  "By requiring them to take up the responsibility that is an inherent part of the privilege they were given.  Each of our peoples must decide upon their own methods of electing the ones to be honored, just as we must each decide the ways in which we will share with them both the joys and burdens of our daily lives as the governors of Arda.  From all the hobbits have told us since the Court, this tradition of trading places is often a learning experience for both those who lead and those who serve."

"Oh, yes," Olórin confirmed, chuckling even as his thoughts ranged back to his long years across the Sea.  "Even my one personal experience as a recipient during Honor Day in the Shire taught me things I didn't know — if nothing else, the degree to which Hobbits are willing to go to make good on anything they view as a pledge or obligation, even if it involves Outsiders.  I already knew that Bilbo was quite stubborn that way, of course, from his deeds during the quest of Erebor, but I had often wondered if that was simply the result of his desire to prove himself to Thorin, given the Dwarf's scornful attitude towards him, and hobbits in general.  That day, I learned that it was not only a deeper trait of Bilbo's, but of Frodo as well.  Even the Gamgees took their obligations as honorees quite seriously, which convinced me that if my premonitions concerning the role of Hobbits in the coming war were accurate, they would not fail whatever that role might be for want of determination.  I had already known that in some ways, but something in the experiences of that day convinced me even more deeply and strongly than before.  They would be true to any task they took upon themselves, for as long as their strength of mind and body allowed — and perhaps even longer. So yes, in being one of the honored, I learned from the experience."

Manwë fully agreed.  "And perhaps in observing this tradition in our own fashion, we will also discover things to treasure in one another, precious things that we may have only glimpsed before.  We cannot hope to cure all the hurts that may exist due to prior mistakes and misconceptions, but if we begin to make the effort, in time, I believe we will all benefit from it."

The others did not dispute that wisdom.  "Do you think we should not confer with each other on these matters, then?" Oromë wondered.  "I would rather not fuel any new rumors that we are involved in some hidden collusion."

It was Aulë who snorted and dismissed that worry with a wave of his hand.  "Those who are inclined to believe such things already do.  So long as we remain open and do not behave abnormally, as if we are deliberately hiding our actions and discussions, they will have no reason to become even more suspicious."

"Besides," Olórin put in rather cheerfully, "if you think the Maiar of your houses are only discussing these things with others in your service, you have no idea what dreadful gossips we can be!"

That impish remark drew laughter from the five Valar, and eased the tension in the room.  "So does this mean we shouldn't bother our hobbit friends with any new questions about Yuletide?" Aulë asked when he'd reined in his mirth.  "My people know very little about the periannath, I'm sorry to say, but unlike Curumo, many of them are keen to learn more. Not all my folk believe the only worthy crafts and arts are those of the forge."

As she listened to the discussion as only she could, Varda gathered the glimmers of ideas into a clearer plan.  "Bilbo is due to leave with Elrond and his household in two days — as all of you should know, since you were invited to the farewell feast earlier this week.  If you can write down some of your questions for him to take with him back to Tirion, I suspect he will be quite happy to answer them as best he can, over the next two months.  He takes great pride in demonstrating his skills as a scholar," she added with a fond smile.

"And while Frodo has told me that he wouldn't mind staying here in Valmar for as long as might be needed, I think it would be best if we returned to Lórien fairly soon," Olórin said.   When Manwë gave him a puzzled look, he explained.  "He thinks that I should have more time to spend here, getting used to the fact that I now have the family I always longed to have.  And while I don't disagree with him in principle, I also don't feel it would be wise to change my entire life so abruptly, especially given the current circumstances.  Some are bound to interpret an unexpectedly extended stay as the prelude to a permanent move."

Manwë offered no argument, but his answering smile was filled with regret.  "While I would enjoy more time with you as well, at the moment, I fear those same persons would deliberately misconstrue it as collusion or favoritism.  And at the moment, I have taken as much time away from my duties as I dare.  Should I neglect them much longer for the sake of personal pleasure, the more reasons will I give the dissidents to deepen their grievances and rebellion.  No, return to Lórien as you originally planned.  If Frodo is willing to share the task of providing answers about Yuletide and its customs, we can give him part of whatever written questions are brought tomorrow, and later direct some of those seeking information to visit him at your house."

"We ought to do that, when we have a chance," Varda said.  Now, both brothers looked at her, perplexed.  "Visit Olórin and Cousin Frodo in their home," she clarified to her spouse.  "The last time we were there could hardly be called a social call, or even one of courtesy."  She was referring to the time not long after the Istar's return from Endorë, when all the Valar had gone to his home in an almost vain effort to prevent him from diminishing into nothingness.

Not so long ago, Manwë would have felt the sharp pangs of bitter regret and shame over what had caused that incident, but enough had since passed between him and the Maia since then to heal those hurts.  "I would enjoy that as well, but I'm afraid it must wait until after we have done more to settle the unrest among our people."  

He turned to the three visitors.  "If you would be so kind as to inform your ladies, I will see to it that the other Valar are instructed to collect and write down some of their peoples' questions for Frodo and Bilbo to take with them when they depart."  He then gave the three a glance that was both warning and amusement.  "I trust you'll keep your lists to a sensible length."  

Tulkas blushed sheepishly, Aulë coughed, and Oromë rolled his eyes.  But all three took the Elder King's point.  The hobbits were Mortal, after all, and they neither could nor should spend all hours of the day and night attempting to instruct the Ainur or appease the idly curious.

With those decisions made, the visitors made their farewells.  Aulë headed out the study door, Oromë simply vanished, and Tulkas was about to follow the Smith when he paused, turning to  Olórin as if he'd just remembered something important.  "Have you and Lintamacar ever had some sort of fight or disagreement?" he asked in his blunt way.

The Istar shook his head.  "Not that I'm aware of.  We aren't of the same mind in all things, that I know from having heard him speak at various councils and gatherings over the years.  But he and I have never actually worked together, even on those few occasions when I served you.  It would be most accurate to say that we know of one another, but are not actually acquainted.  Why do you ask?"

The flickering expressions that moved across the Vala's mobile face made it clear that he was debating whether or not to say more.  Finally, he shrugged.  "He seems to have taken the matter of your relationship to Manwë as a personal insult, from what I have heard and have been told by reliable sources.  It is as if he bears a powerful grudge against you, the sort I've most often seen in those who have somehow been bested in battle, or felt shamed by losing an argument they believe they should have won."

"We have seldom spoken more than a few words to each other, and none ended in conflict," Olórin told him with some regret.  If they had fought at some point, the warrior Maia's current attitudes might have made more sense.

Tulkas grimaced, letting loose a deep breath in a rushing sigh.  "Perhaps I'm misinterpreting the situation.  When you return to Lórien, just ask Irmo what he thinks of my pitiful attempts to learn... what did he call it?  Complex interpersonal relationships and subtle non-verbal communication."  He snorted, self-derisively.  "I know where my strengths lie, and I'd rather wrestle an army of Balrogs than the kinds of subjects he tried to teach me."

The Champion then made his own farewells and departed.  Olórin looked the way he had gone with eyes unfocused, lost in his thoughts over all Tulkas had just said.  

A touch on his shoulder drew him from his reverie.  "I do not doubt that what you told Tulkas is true," Manwë said in a gentle voice, full of trust.  "But have you ever spoken against Lintamacar to another, or said harsh things of him that might have been heard by another and repeated to him?"

The Maia's automatic denial died on his lips, which he pressed together as he searched his memories, understanding what his brother was implying: that a carelessly spoken remark about Lintamacar might have been heard, repeated, and gradually made into an insult through the twists and turns of gossip.  "I don't think so," he said at length.  "I try very hard not to be a part — or a source — of rumor, and while I've known that he has a reputation for being brash and hotheaded, I've also tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.  Until the past few days, I've seldom had reason to talk about him; I would even venture to say that almost everything I ever have said about him to others has been said during this past week.  And I don't believe that any of it was something that could be taken as an insult."

Manwë gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.  "Then I needn't warn you to mind what you say hereafter.  You have always been the very soul of discretion — save for those times when your temper is pricked by injustice or insolence."

Olórin winced even as he accepted that assessment.  "My temper, or my pride," he said with a sigh of submission to the truth.  "And from what I have seen of him, Lintamacar's verbal darts are often aimed to strike such foibles.  I will do my best to be wary, should we happen to meet.  Perhaps better yet, I will do my best to avoid meeting him!"

"I doubt that will be possible," Varda observed with her own sigh of resignation as she stepped closer to join them.  "I feel in my heart that of all the dissidents, Lintamacar will not be assuaged until he has stirred up some open confrontation.  Whether it is a particular battle he wishes to be fought or full revolution...."  She shook her head in uncertainty.

Manwë reached out with his other arm and drew her close.  "We must all take care during the coming months.  It seems to me that his rebellion is more personal in nature, but until we have determined the causes behind it, we need to be cautious, lest we fan the small flames of individual resentment into a more widespread conflagration."

With that bit of wisdom shared, he shifted the hand on Olórin's shoulder to slip his arm around him, and then gave both his wife and brother a warm, if brief, embrace.  "Well, then," he said cheerfully in a "that's that" manner.  "Shall we head down to breakfast?  I'm sure that by now, both our hobbit cousins have at least three helpings' worth of a head start on us!"

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Close Encounters