B2MEM 2013 March 4: Light and Darkness

[kayleelupin.livejournal.com]

B2MeM Challenge: Day Four: Discovery/ "Down the swift dark stream you go
Back to lands you once did know..." (well, water and darkness and reunions, anyway)
Format: ficlet
Genre: general
Rating:
Warnings:
Characters: Rushirithir (Balrog of Moria), Acairis (you'll see =) ), Eonwe, Ilmare, Nienna, Tilion, Ulmo
Pairings:
Summary: Rushirithir's stay at Nienna's continues, and a chance meeting with an old friend brings new meaning to his views on Light and Darkness.
A/N: Many thanks to Fiondil again, whose influence has made itself known in my writing by the use of Acairis. Thanks also to Aearwen, whose view of the canon character Acairis becomes has firmly planted itself in my headcanon. Acairis seemed intended to become said character, though Fiondil never explicitly stated it, but the Muse insisted, and so...



Rushirithir's stay in the house of Nienna progressed apace. In the mornings he took breakfast with her - he was surprised to find that after being without physical form so long, he should crave it and the nourishment it required, but there was something about being clothed in flesh, and clothing his form after the manner of the Children, that appealed to him. Breakfast was no lavish affair, and in truth he paid more attention to the pleasures of conversation and company than the food. Nienna's table was never solitary; Tiutalion, her Chief Maia, sat at her right hand, and oftentimes Eonwe or Ilmare would descend from Ilmarin to breakfast, dine or sup with the Lady. Rushirithir felt his heart clench when Eonwe's piercing gaze rested on him, and when the Herald of the Valar graced Nienna's table with his presence, Rushirithir would stare into his porridge bowl, stirring the cinnamon, cream, and dried fruits further into the mixture before taking another bite.

Ilmare's presence was easier to bear. She bore Rushirithir no ill-will, he knew, for she said so the first time she saw him at Nienna's table. "Welcome home, Little Brother," she said solicitously, and her indigo gaze warmed him like a star core's heat. "It fills me with gladness to see thou'rt come home to us." Rushirithir felt heat rising in his cheeks, and bowed his head.

"I thank thee for thy welcome, Sister," he replied, "and I will do my best to become full worthy of being thy brother again." Varda's Chief Maia had merely smiled and patted his hand.

"Thou'rt well on the way, Rushirithir. In time, our Lord and Lady will welcome thee into thy proper sphere again. Atar hath forgiven thee; we could do no less. Is it no so, Eonwe?" she asked, surreptitiously poking her brother in Atar's Thought. Eonwe studiously avoided answering her.

Nienna turned a look upon Eonwe, and it was some days before the Herald had a place at her table again. He muttered an apology to Rushirithir, and the younger Maia couldn't be sure, but he thought later as he took a walk in the gardens, it was Eonwe sweeping the garden walk with a besom. He supposed he must be imagining things. Eonwe was Chief Maia of Manwe, Herald and Oathkeeper, the highest of all the Maiar. Surely he would not lower himself to such a menial task.

Rushirithir sat down on a bench in the cloister garden, watching as the other Maia swept the paths free of debris. It was Eonwe, he realised, and when Eonwe drew closer, he shrank away from the older Maia. Eonwe sighed, set down the besom and turned to Rushirithir.

"Rushirithir."

"Speak, lord, thy servant is listening," Rushirithir whispered, and Eonwe blinked twice.

"Art thou one of the Eldar or Atani, that thou speaketh so? Am I Atar Himself, that thou namest thyself my servant? Am I thy master?" Eonwe demanded.

Rushirithir blinked in surprise. "Thou'rt Eldest and wisest, First among us and leader."

Eonwe fixed Rushirithir with a hard look. "Do not start that again, Little Brother. Well thou knowest where it got thee last time."

Rushirithir crumpled as though Eonwe had struck him, as memories of his fawning over Melkor assailed him. Melkor's touch, Melkor's false, pretty words, his reassurances that one day...one day...they would Create and Rule together...Rushirithir didn't even know he was screaming, didn't know he was sobbing, didn't know he had tried to run, so lost in his dark memories was he. But Eonwe caught Rushirithir and held him fast, held Rushirithir against his breast and murmured soothing reassurances, rocking the younger Maia and whispering of his and Atar's love.

Suddenly Nienna and Tilion were both there, and Eonwe barely acknowledged them as he continued trying to soothe Rushirithir's tidal wave of emotions.

"What in the Name of Atar happened?" Tilion demanded of Eonwe. "I could hear his screams all the way on Tol Eressea! What hast thou done to him, Eonwe? I am surprised Tiutalion is not here already!"

"I sent him elsewhere," Nienna interjected. "What happened?" she asked, more calmly than Tilion, who looked ready to throw a tankard of ale into Eonwe's face.

Eonwe sighed, and settled for explaining the last few moments through osanwe rather than speaking aloud. The other Maia and Valie sighed in tandem, and Tilion took Rushirithir from Eonwe, hugging Rushirithir close.

"You. Go away," Tilion ordered Eonwe. "I've had enough of you. I ought to just take Rushirithir back with me."

"No, Tilion," Nienna said firmly. "Rushirithir is still my pupil and patient, and he will remain here. As for Eonwe...if he spoke so, it was necessary."

"What?" Tilion all but screamed, and the shock jolted Rushirithir out of his own pain. "What do you mean, it was necessary....my Lady?" Tilion added belatedly, realising that Rushirithir was staring at him open-mouthed.

Eonwe had Thought himself away and Nienna answered, "It was necessary to begin Rushirithir's healing. Is it not so, my son?" she asked, looking at Rushirithir and offering him a handkerchief, which he made judicious use of.

"I suppose so, my Lady," Rushirithir said quietly. "It made me think of...things. From before. Of...of him."

Nienna gave Rushirithir a sympathetic nod. "There is no denying, my son, that it formed a large portion of thine Existence. But now that thou hast chosen a different path, it is necessary to understand the choices thou once made, and why they led where they did. It is thine task to discover the consequences thy choices hath brought, not only on thyself, but others."

"Am I not forgiven then, my Lady?" Rushirithir asked meekly.

"Atar hath forgiven thee, as well thou knowest," Nienna replied quietly. "That is more important than the feelings of any of the rest of us - except one. Learn to forgive thyself, my son. I have forgiven thee, and so have many among us, including the other Valar. Yet I cannot force any to forgive thee, for it is their free will choice whether to...or not. But do not despair, best beloved."

Do not despair, best beloved. Rushirithir kept those words close to his heart as he wandered up and down the beach, keeping just out of reach of the water's edge. He often stayed for a long time at the rockfall that marked the World's End, knowing instinctively not to climb it. Eventually, walking the beach and studying the rockfall became a daily habit. Everyone else seemed to keep away from the edge, so he considered it his private haunt after some weeks.

But one day, Rushirithir came to the rockfall to find someone above him, climbing it. An elleth, he thought, and a youngling at that. She couldn't be more than fourteen or so, and yet she was already far above him. Without thinking, Rushirithir scrambled up after her. She cannot go up there! She'll die! Why is no one coming after her? his mind screamed as he continued to climb. "Stop!" he cried. "Stay where you are!"

She didn't hear him, or was just ignoring him. They climbed higher and higher, and the sound of the waves fell away, the stars grew nearer and brighter. They were dangerously close to the Void. "Stop, little one," Rushirithir begged. "Stop, I'm right below you, come down. You can't go there."

"Why not?" she called down. "I just want to see. The Dark is so beautiful."

"The Dark?" Rushirithir hastened after her. They were both sitting on top of the rockfall now, and he knew if he looked what he would see. The Void, stretching out endlessly before him. But he did not look. Instead, he grabbed the child and, in his hurry to get down, he jumped. He didn't have wings anymore...if he ever had...and he made this leap with blind estel, faith that someone, or Someone, would catch them both. They landed, not on the black sand as he had intended, but in the Sea, and Rushirithir began to panic.

He had gotten them away from the Void, they weren't hurt, the child wasn't hurt, but a new sort of void threatened to swallow them. Oppressively the water surrounded him and he struggled and kicked, tightening his hold on the girl all the while, when he found them being lifted bodily from the Ekkaia by a pair of strong arms. Gasping, Rushirithir pressed his face to the chest of the one who held them, and found his view obstructed by a rough green mass of hair. Beard, he thought, and then froze as he knew just who it belonged to.

Clad in chainmail, robed in green silk and crowned with coral, the Lord of Waters carried Rushirithir and the child to the shore and lay them down above the waterline. He sat down on a fallen log. "Art thou well, Rushirithir, Ungwëliantë?" he asked.
The child cringed and Rushirithir stared. For the first time he noticed the Light in her eyes, akin to his own, and knew her to be no Elf. Her dark hair had made him take her for a Noldo at first, but now he saw her for her true self - especially as her form shifted. She cast off her fana and Rushirithir did out of habit as well, noticing the interplay of his fellow Maia's aura - mostly ultraviolet, he saw, ultraviolet and a violet so dark as to be nearly black. "Acairis?" he asked, and her aura rippled in the equivalent of an embarrassed nod.

"Acairis I was, and Ungwëliantë the Dark, who never thought to be released, for my crimes were far too great. And see you, Brother, even now the Dark enthralls me as once it did. For did Mbelkoro not seduce me with his lies, even as thee?"
Rushirithir wrapped himself around Acairis comfortingly. "But see thou, Acairis, no longer art thou the Weaver of Darkness. Thou'rt Remade even as I. We no longer have to be poisoned by that one's lies. Atar hath forgiven thee?"

"Yea," Acaris replied, "he hath. He spoke of my being his Instrument of Destruction, for Light hath no existence without Shadow, nor Creation without Destruction, to keep the balance. And so I only ever did Atar's Will, though I did not see it."

"Light hath no substance without Shadow, just as Shadow hath none without Light," Rushirithir mused. "But when such is used to work against Atar, surely that is evil?"

"Art thou listening to me, Brother?" Acairis demanded irritably. "Atar used thine actions for His ultimate Design, for if thou had not perished with Olorin, many lives would not have come out as they did. Even as the Great Lights would not have been brought to fruitition at the proper time, had I not struck down their forebears. All is done as Atar Wills it, in the end, even if we do not know it."

"Indeed," spoke a third voice near them, and Rushirithir observed the interplay of blue and green hues, brighter than Acairis' aura and his own. "Even so did Atar use me, that I be the chink in the armour of Doom that my brethren might not see. For even the Valar might take courses not best for them; and I quietly worked in my own way to be Atar's secret Voice in the hearts of His Children."
Rushirithir regarded Ulmo with new respect, and he felt Acairis brighten at this, understanding. The three incarnated once more, and Rushirithir found he had much to think about.

Comments

[kayleelupin.livejournal.com]

Thank you, Erulisse!!! :)

Any favorite bits?

Kaylee

[engarian.livejournal.com]

The language is so appropriate for the characters and I love that you're working with Nienna. She tends to be ignored much of the time (except for Elf Interrupted, of course). I'm really enjoying your whole slant on this :-)

- Erulisse (one L)