A shockwave of disbelieving gasps swiftly evolved to concerned murmurings ringing the circumference of the stone circle. It was Varda who gave clear voice to the unified accusations of suspicion. "Who was it that sent such visions to the Ladies of the Wood? From your words it seems they did not come upon this 'wisdom' on their own."
"It was my purposeful thoughts which enlightened their minds, my Lady," Ulmo boasted with copious confidence. No sooner had he willingly admitted the full depth of his role in the current concerns than a familiar snort taunted him from across the circle.
"It does not surprise me that you are meddling in the affairs of Middle-earth again, Ulmo, yet even I must congratulate you on the efficiency of your plot. You have somehow managed to manipulate the Teleri and the Kinslayers who spilled their blood all at the same time! How precious, to turn the enemies into arranged bedfellows!"
"The Peredhil is not Teleri -- he is Moriquendi, as was his father before him," Aule gently corrected.
Ulmo bore the needling and nitpicking of his brethren with increasingly short temper.
"Need I remind any of you the sacrifices Earendil has made in the name of Middle-earth and all of its peoples?"
"He had no choice," Vana softly lamented. "'Tis the curse of his blood, on both sides of his lineage."
"'Tis the curse of us all if we allow the line of Earendil to fail." Ulmo paused for a hanging moment, the fire of indignation washing through him. "He may have been born Peredhil, but he was given the choice -- by our decree -- and became of the First Born. Some of us have not forgotten that they, above all other beings, are the most beloved of Eru's children."
Orome erupted in a furious, insulted roar, slamming one fist upon the unyielding arm of his throne as he hurled himself to his feet. "You doubt my love of the Eldar? Who besides me tarried long in Middle-earth after the rest of you forsook its dark woods for Valinor? Who came upon them and loved them in the days of their awakening?"
"No one doubts the sincerity of your heart, nor the purity of your intentions," Manwe soothed with a raised hand, gesturing for the angered Lord of the Hunt to return to his chair. "We should extend that same courtesy to all numbered amongst us here." Waiting until Orome reluctantly regained his seat, Manwe turned his piercing gaze to his dearest and most trusted friend. "There is much in this proposal of yours which concerns me gravely, Ulmo. Elrond was once given the choice to determine his destiny for himself, as was his brother. Would you force a choice just as monumental upon him now?"
Ulmo exhaled wearily, the sunlight reflecting and diffracting off his mail raiment like a veritable rainbow. "His judgment is clouded by the heavy veil of grief. We cannot expect him to come to such wisdom of his own volition. Wisdom must be brought to him."
"Wisdom, or only grief of yet another sort?" Yavanna suspiciously inquired. "Would you also doom the Silver Lady of Lothlorien to a loveless union for the sake of producing progeny? And what of the last of the High Kings? He remains in Mandos' care for now, but yet still has hope of reprieve. Would you take away that hope from him, as well as the hope of his faithful herald whose line you profess to care so deeply for -- the hope that one day they might be reunited? Truly, you appear the enemy of hope this day, Ulmo!"
"It is because of hope that we must do this thing! Hope that the further sundering of Man and Eldar be avoided!" Desperation replaced all hint of insult and anger in the Watery Lord's tone. So much rested upon the outcome of this one council, so very much. How could they not see it? Have they all gone blind? Eru, Great Father, help me to remove the shadows of ignorance from their eyes!
As was her customary role, Varda offered a soothing voice of compromise and clarity. "We gather here not to dwell upon past pains, nor to create new ones in their stead. We are here to built a bridge of hope to the future of all Middle-earth. Do I correctly understand your intentions, Ulmo -- to bind Elrond Earendilion to Celebrian, daughter of Galadriel, and bless their union with the grace of children?"
Grateful that his prayers seemed to have been answered with the swiftness of eagles, Ulmo bowed his head slightly in reverent respect. "Yes, my Lady Queen."
Tulkas, the golden-haired champion of the Valar, fumed in barely contained silence from his seat between his wife and Nienna. He had heard all that had transpired with increasing incredulity. He was often at a loss for sage council at such meetings, and as such frequently did not speak unless directly asked for his opinion. But now he found himself utterly unable to hold his tongue for another passing of breath. "And what of Gil-galad? He and Elrond pledged themselves to each other before the end of the last age. Even the passing of the High King into Mandos' care does not release Elrond from his oath!" Gone from his ruddy face was his usual good humor, no hint of his characteristic laugh remained in his voice.
Ulmo wrung his hands in his lap, understanding well Tulkas' reasons for personal affront. On any other occasion, the Lord of the Sea would have chosen his words with delicacy and deference for the great love which had passed between Tulkas and Manwe's son. For despite Orome's insensitive interjections, none among them truly thought of the union between Elrond and his beloved King as less than a true marriage. Orome was reticent to give his full blessings upon such unions only because he did not approve of the freedom his much-cherished sister had given to her own husband to find love in the arms of another -- another of his same kind. "Finwe was released, and Elrond shall be as well," he flatly explained, with no joy whatsoever in his tone.
A fire rivaling Anar itself flashed in Tulkas' eyes, the unadorned champion clearly understanding what Ulmo's suggestion implied. "You, who have never wed, would doom Gil-galad to eternity in the dark, hopeless halls? How ironic that you once pleaded for mercy for the Noldor, only to damn the greatest among them to the worst punishment of all!"
Lithe Nessa, who much preferred carefree dancing upon carpets of grass to the pains of politics, reached out an beseeching hand and tightly clasped the wrist of her husband, silently urging him to remain in his seat. "If they had only chosen to love each other without the formal binds of marriage, as I have graced upon my husband and Fionwe, we would not be faced with such terrible choices now. Yet I find I cannot blame either for following the genuine calling of their hearts. There is far too much pain in Ea for me, or any of us, to condemn true love of any sort."
Although Aule felt naught but empathy for the High King and his Herald, he could see no solution which left all hearts unbroken. "But they have sworn before Manwe and Varda, and in the name of Eru himself, and it is law that the Eldar may have but one spouse in this world. Therefore, we are bound to the statute of Finwe and Miriel in this matter, if indeed we decide to agree to Ulmo's request."
Vaire slowly shook her head in disbelief. "Galadriel would banish her brother's grandson from the world forever, with no hope of reprieve? I do not believe her heart to be so cold."
"It is not coldness, but love," Ulmo instantly retorted, without hesitation, and without the joy he usually relished when it was apparent his will would prevail. "Love for her people, and for all of Middle-earth. Her line has suffered much, and will suffer more still. Such is the song we have composed for them, since the days before we entered the world."
"The line of Earendil will also face many more sorrows in the unfolding of this age, for the sake of both their bloodlines," Manwe sagely offered. "Elrond will suffer most of all, although he believes fate can hand him no greater pain that that which already weighs upon his heart."
Varda sat silently in reflection for a moment, then gave voice to the ultimate concerns of her heart. "We cannot possibly ask that he bear these burdens alone. His strength wavers, even now. If he is told what more pains he will face in the name of Middle-earth, I do not know if his heart can support the load. I will not bear to see him without hope or help." With a slight smile of affection and foreknowledge illuminating his face, Manwe tenderly clasped his wife's hand in his. "He will have his share of both, by Eru's decree. You are correct, that he cannot be told of all that will face him, but to none are given complete knowledge, not even the Valar. Eru alone sees all."
"I may not see all, but I see this with the keenness of eagles. I will not doom Elrond to an eternity without love, or hope. Celebrian cannot doom Gil-galad to the shadows without hope of reprieve. Sacrifices will be expected of them all. She will be made to sacrifice her own life, when the time comes." Varda's tone made it as apparent as the cycling of the moon that this point was not open for negotiation.
Despite this, Aule still felt the need to give voice to lingering reservations of his own. "But what if Mandos deems that Gil-galad should not return? 'Tis his judgment that sets the sentence for those who enter his halls, and it is only by his leave, in addition to yours, that they return to the world."
A secretive smile blossomed across the Star-kindler's countenance, her already indescribable beauty now rivaling that of the stars themselves. "Love will return to Elrond's heart, and his arms, when he requires its strength the most, no matter what else Mandos pronounces. The dark brilliance of the stars has already blessed the Peredhil's heart. The golden light of Anar shall have its turn to do the very same. That is my decree!"
Manwe contemplated this in sage silence, and after a time, and seeing no disagreements, ended the discussion. "Mandos, what sayeth you on this? It is time to speak the doom of Gil-galad -- the doom of them all."
All eyes trained to the far end of the circle, where the stone-faced Lord of the Dead finally broke his ominous silence. His deep, dispassionate voice reverberated among the stone thrones, his words instantly and indelibly woven into the invisible fabric of fate.
"Gil-galad shall remain in my care for the better part of this age, until such time as Celebrian willingly forfeits her life in his place, for as Varda has asked, it is my decree also that she do so at the appointed time. The High King will then be given the choice we deny him now -- to return to the arms of his lawful spouse, if that is still his heart's desire."
Manwe nodded in tacit approval. "So be it. Varda will show them all a vision of what is to be, and what can be, if the doom is allowed to pass. But to this Elrond and Celebrian must both agree of their own free will. That is my decree." Slowly rapping his sapphire scepter against the stone floor of the council circle in a steady beat which trembled the earth beneath all of Valinor and Middle-earth, he signaled the pronouncement of the Valar's final judgment in this matter.
With nothing further to say, Manwe sat in patient silence while his companions one by one departed for their own duties, their own concerns, leaving him finally sitting alone among the blackened stones, lost in heavy thought. After the passing of some moments he raised his eyes to the skies, and waited in knowing patience until one of his faithful eagles winged to his side, in response to the unmistakable call of his thoughts. "Tell Olorin I wish to speak to him immediately," he softly explained to the noble bird. "I have an important task for him...."
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