THE DOOMSMAN

Oromë barely paid attention as Varda led him through the winding, glittering streets of Valmar.  He nodded absently to the Elves and Ainur they passed, still willing his anger away.  But he remained aware enough to pause before the great gates to Tulkas' grand palace.  It sat on the edge of the city, towering high into the air with many stories.  A tall bronze tower commanded the attention of the area, shining in the waning sun.  Behind the gate were pillars of copper in a wide arcade* that surrounded a large lawn where even now warriors were practicing their arts.  The maidens of Oromë's sister moved among the sparring men bearing cups of cooling drinks and good wine.

It only took a moment for the Hunter to realize he did not hear the spirits of either his sister or her husband, and allow his Lady to pull him away from the magnificent house.  They walked in silence toward the edge of the clearing that led into the north of Oromë's northernmost forest.  The trees called out to him, sensing his disquiet, and welcomed him gladly for it had been a long time since he had walked these parts.  Their gentle spirits and the soothing silence quickly calmed his nerves so that he was left feeling only annoyed and frustrated rather than murderous. 

Soon enough they approached a wide lawn secluded among tall oaks and yew trees.  Though it was not far by Valar standards from Valmar, few Elves could reach it.  Oromë had seen to that when he had cultivated the area ages ago.  There were far too many paths that looked exactly alike and any elf who wandered this way soon found their feet leading them back to the city.  The Hunter had designed it that way so that his blood sister had a place of quiet that was her own should she desire it.  It had been a wedding present. 

Nessa and Tulkas were the only Valar to be wed here on Arda, though that had been long before the Elves had awoken.  Oromë had always been a little leery of his brother-in-law, though Tulkas had always done right by his sister.  He seemed to make her happy so the Hunter said nothing.  Oromë would always keep an eye on his sister though, but only because he was her brother.

The sparkling lawn before him was vibrant in the darkening light, almost as if it gave off its own light of green.  Oromë knew that to be Yavanna's work.  When she had seen what he was doing, the Queen of the Earth had sown her own magic into the soil so that the glade was evergreen and in spring.  She had done something similar for Vána's gardens. 

Oromë had set aside a portion of his vast forests for his supposed wife that were cut off from the wilder lands by white-thorn of great size that blossomed like everlasting snow.  The innermost ring of her garden was walled with roses surrounding a beautiful golden fountain where Laurelin's light was caught, a counterpart to Lórien's great Mirror.  It was truly Spring's Garden, filled with every color imaginable painted on every flower ever conceived.  Birds sang there year round, or at least Oromë assumed they still did.  It had been a long time since he had visited her garden.  To his knowledge, Vána had not gone there since the trees had died, and that grieved him for he thought that even if it did no good for Vána, Nienna surely needed the garden's beauty and peace.

He knew that the garden missed her, the trees brought whispers from the flowers of their loneliness.  Vána's maidens missed her as well, for they stayed to tend the flowers and the fountain.  Oromë wondered how much of that golden light remained.

His thoughts were interrupted by a blur before him that ruffled his hair.  A moment later a multitude of deer sprang from the forest and dashed along the edges of the green lawn, paying the watching Valar no mind.  A moment of quiet lay over them, the heavier for the sudden rush of activity, before something slammed into the Hunter.

"Brother!" a happy voice shouted into his ear.  Oromë caught Nessa around her trim waist and swung her around.  His sister was not usually given to such displays, even married to Tulkas as she was.  But her marriage had loosened her up a bit, and she had noticed her brother's unease with the formality that all the Valar wore like a shield against the world.  Over the years, she had relaxed enough to allow this small intimacy deciding that there was no need for such barriers between blood kin.  But it was still a trial sometimes for her, and Oromë always let her initiate any such encounter so as not to pressure her into a casualness she was not comfortable with.  The Hunter always delighted in those rare encounters when she let her guard down and played.

"You seem in high spirits," Oromë said, as he finally set her back on her bare feet.  He nodded to Tulkas who had appeared as suddenly as Nessa.  The most valiant of the Valar was tall and thick-muscled, with a ruddy complexion.  His beard and hair were a brilliant gold, and there was a rough look to him.  As ever his face was painted with a large grin.  Without a word he reached out to clasp hands with Oromë.  The Hunter made to shake his hand, but was quickly pulled into a brief hug and was heartily slapped on the back, which momentarily knocked the wind out of him.  Nessa greeted Varda with a quick bow before turning back to her brother.

"We have been racing the deer through the forest, brother," Nessa said, her being vibrating with energy.  Oromë was glad to see it, for though she was the Dancer, rarely did she give free rein to her youth and vitality.  The Hunter looked around at the few deer who had remained, seeing that all looked a little spent.  That was not surprising for both Tulkas and Nessa were swifter than anything that went by feet, and Tulkas always teased Oromë about his need for Nahar, even as he praised the steed's great strength and speed.  Nahar at least gave the Valiant Vala a challenge. 

"I thought to find you dancing with your maidens," Oromë said.

"There is time enough for that too.  Soon the stars will be up, and then I might dance, or I might run, or whatever pleases me most," Nessa replied with a teasing smile.

"I suppose it has been a long time since last we met, and I deserve scorn for my ignorance," the Hunter said lightly.  Nessa laughed, holding her brother by his arm.

"Nay, never scorn.  But you are right that it has been far too long since you have graced us with your presence.  Pray, how is your husband?"

"He is well," Oromë said, his spirit singing with the irrepressible joy that flooded him whenever he thought of his husband.  "And you should have come to my kingdom long ago and taken me to task for abusing your patience so."

"Nay, I would not come between lovers on their honeymoon, and you have waited long enough for yours that it is fitting it should last for centuries," Nessa said, and both Oromë and Tulkas laughed deeply. 

"If I am still on my honeymoon," Oromë said when he had caught his breath again.  "Then I shall be on one forever."

"Glad I am of that," Nessa said quietly, her spirit serious in reflection of the depth of her happiness for him.  She had known best what a trial it was for him to wait for his beloved to be born, and then to wait again for his destiny to unfold.  Oromë had often spent time among these trees with his sister on his arm grumbling about his ill fortune.  But all that was behind him now.

"So," Tulkas boomed into the gentle silence.  "Why do you show your ugly face now?  And to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence, my Lady?"

Varda laughed, and Oromë chuckled.  Tulkas was not known for his grace with words, often coming off as uncouth, and when he tried something more formal, the words always fell unevenly from his mouth and seemed ill-placed.  But Tulkas was a straightforward man, and though he and Oromë were forever teasing and insulting each other, it was always in jest.  They were brothers-in-arms, and the closest in mind during times of war. 

And they both loved Nessa.  It was that which had drawn them together in the first place, and like any bond forged in love, it was nigh unbreakable.  Oromë would take Tulkas' company over a hundred thousand of the finest Elven warriors, but not because of his undeniable strength and prowess on the battlefield.  No, he would take him because there wasn't a more loyal, truer friend that could be asked for.  And much like himself, Oromë knew Tulkas was looked down upon by their kin who viewed his love of sports and wrestling as barbaric.  Oromë could only pray to his Father to guide his siblings.  Given Námo's coming wedding, it seemed likely his prayers were at least being listened to.

"You will have to ask your brother," Varda was saying.  "I am here simply for the pleasure of his company as he completes his task."

"And what task brings you to our fair glen?" Nessa asked curiously.  Fishing out the second to last card, he grandly presented it to his sister.

Nessa quickly perused the letter, but got no further than the header, her eyebrows shooting up in shock.  "You jest!" she said with an unladylike snort.  "Námo and Elladan Half-Elven?" Thus saying, the Lady of the Dance promptly fell to laughter.

Tulkas took the card from her hand, before adding his own guffaw and slapping Oromë on the back again causing him to stumble.  "Good for him.  Get some life in his veins.  Much too stuffy if you ask me," the Warrior-Vala said, and that was the extent of the matter in his eyes.

"Do-do you realize," Nessa said catching her breath, "that this means that you will be Námo's father-in-law?"  The idea sent her into another fit of giggles and Oromë could only roll his eyes at her, although he couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. 

"And Lord Elrond too," Tulkas boomed.  "That should please Námo."

"Or terrify him," Nessa said, wiping away her gladdened tears.  Oromë's smile remained polite.  He could feel another pulse of humor from his sister, and knew that she thought her words were as much nonsense as the rest, but having felt the honest distress the bonding had caused his brother, Oromë could not feel the same.  There was a moment where Námo had been terrified, and it was as distressing for the Hunter to remember now as it had been then. 

Accordingly, his humor sobered slightly.  His sister did not note this, but perhaps she felt it for she calmed down and gave him a sincere smile.  "So, a wedding?  Shall I finally meet your husband?"

Oromë startled at this, for it seemed that in all the time that Elrond had been on these shores, he must have met some of the Hunter's kin and certainly his sister.  But then he realized that no one before Vairë had ventured into his lands but his own ainur.  And Elrond had not really traveled to see the rest of Valinor.  Perhaps they were on a honeymoon, because Oromë knew his husband's only current interest was spending time with him to make up for the long absence.  He could only shake his head at himself.

"Of course.  I'm sure he'll be delighted to meet you."

"I'm sure he will too, if only for the embarrassing stories I can tell," Nessa teased.  Oromë raised an eyebrow at that.

"Well, we shall see how inventive you can be, for I know there are no such true stories for you to tell," he said haughtily.  Even Varda joined in a laugh at that.

"That sounds like a challenge to me," Nessa said.  Oromë only smiled.

"Then, we will see you at the wedding?" Varda asked, breaking her silence.  She and Tulkas seemed content to let brother and sister reacquaint themselves.

"Most assuredly," Nessa said.  "And you must bring your husband to visit soon."

"And bring his sons," Tulkas added.  "I hear they are good in sports.  Elves bring stories of their prowess in the hunt.  We shall see if they are equally good in wrestling and boxing."

"I believe there mannish heritage serves them well in that area," Oromë replied.

"Excellent!" Tulkas said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.  Already his eyes strayed northward to his home where undoubtedly there were such games already going on.  Taking advantage of his distraction, Oromë motioned his sister closer.

"Ah, sister . . . I love your husband dearly, but . . ." the Hunter began awkwardly, not knowing how to phrase his question diplomatically.  Thankfully, Nessa knew his mind.  She gave him an amused smile.

"But you wish me to rein him in at the wedding?"  Oromë colored at the blunt summation.

"If you wouldn't mind.  I know Námo will be quite nervous, and I think Elladan will be too-," he began, but stopped when Nessa held her hand up.

"You needn't justify your request to me.  I know my husband well, and I know his eccentricities.  And though I love them dearly, I know them to be a trial to some.  I will caution my husband and keep a watchful eye.  However," she said, giving her brother a shrewd eye.  Unconsciously, Oromë straightened to his full height in a defensive posture.  "I expect to have a long talk with you about all that is going on.  And I expect to see you here more often."

"Of course, sister," Oromë agreed easily.  "And you are always welcome in my realm.  I am ever glad of your presence."

Nessa gave her brother another sincere smile that warmed him to the core. 

"I fear we must be on our way," Varda said apologetically, but with a gentle smile for the siblings.

"It is always a pleasure, my Lady," Nessa said.  Tulkas turned to nod his fairwell and then offered his arm to his wife.  Nessa waved to her brother before she and her husband darted back into the forest.  Oromë watched them go with a small smile on his face.  It was a long moment before he realized he was being watched.  He turned to see Varda scrutinizing him.

"Do you feel better?" she asked, once again taking his arm.  Oromë thought about the question.

"I do, my Lady.  I hadn't realized how much I missed my sister," he replied, his mood much improved by his sister's merry spirit. 

"Good," Varda replied, letting him lead her out of the forest.  "One more task to complete."

******

Gentle singing assaulted the Hunter's ears, instantly making him drowsy as he walked through the winding living labyrinth.  Several times his eyes began to droop and he was forced to snap them back open again.  Unconsciously his hand fell to his horn.  It was his other great temptation: one great blast to Lórien to wake the place up.

Oromë felt a cool hand on his sinewy forearm, and looked over to Varda.  She gave him an amused look, but shook her head in the negative.  Sighing he let his hand fall from his great horn. 

It did not take them long to reach Murmuran, the palace of Lórien, although it was somewhat hard to tell when they passed through to the dwelling.  As always Oromë reached out to touch the misty walls, and felt his hands absorbed into the material, and, like always, he wondered at Aulë's wisdom to build these halls from mists gathered beyond Arvalin upon the Shadowy Seas.*  The Halls passed through the Garden, its walls mingling with the fog that swam through its veins, and one could not tell which was from what.  It seemed weird even to Oromë.

Varda led him unerringly through the shifting palace to a throne room.  Oromë was rather surprised to see Irmo away from his Mirror, but here he was with Estë at his side, for once looking the role of Lord and Lady of these parts.

"My Lady, what a pleasure," Estë said.  Oromë had some satisfaction in seeing Irmo's eyes droop and he too had to snap them open and force himself to focus, but his satisfaction was dimmed by the fact that Irmo was as likely to do that in Council, or anywhere in fact, as he was here.

"Indeed, it has been long since you last walked these lands," Irmo said, eyes drooping again. 

"And great is my loss that it should be so," Varda replied with grace.  Estë inclined her head at the implied compliment.

"I sense that you are not here to enjoy the Garden," Estë said quietly, her speaking voice too close to that of her singing one that they seemed to meld in a way that made every word a lovely trill.

"Indeed," Oromë said, stepping forward and giving the last card to Estë.  "I am bid to give this to you."

Estë took it with a delicate raised eyebrow.  Her movements were agonizingly slow, while her husband practically slept beside her.  She was silent for far too long when she actually got around to reading the small card.  Varda and Oromë shared a concerned look.  Their confusion only doubled when she suddenly laughed, something unusual for her.

The sudden sound seemed to startle the sleepy world around them.  For a moment the walls of the palace were solid and strong, birds fluttered away, and the constant sleepy murmur that passed for music here startled to a stop.  Irmo blinked and looked at his wife as if she had suddenly grown another nose on her lovely face.

Smiling, she wordlessly handed him the small card.  More alert, he took it with caution.  Again Varda and Oromë shared another confused look when they were met with the complete stillness of his music as he read the invitation.  No Vala's music was ever still.

"Brother?" Varda questioned softly when it seemed even to her that he had been quiet for too long.

Without a word, he carefully refolded the paper tucking it into its envelope and handed it back to his wife.  Varda and Oromë exchanged another look when it looked like Irmo would go back to sleep.  They quickly shifted their focus to Estë, who looked more amused than either of them could ever remember seeing her.

"We have already had a visit from Námo and Vairë," she said by way of explanation.

"And?" Oromë demanded when that answer seemed to satisfy Varda and she said nothing.  She gave him a condescending smile, one that he was all too familiar with.

"And Vairë let it be known that her husband was not her husband any more, and such was both their desire."

"Oromë," Irmo suddenly spoke, eyes completely closed.  "How does you husband like my river?"

The Hunter frowned at the complete non sequitur, and it took him a moment to realize what his sleepy brother was even talking about.  It was so long ago that he built his house that he almost forgot Irmo had offered freely to shift the course of one of his rivers so that it flowed into Oromë's realm and brought soothing music for Elrond to listen to.

"He loves it dearly.  It is the only reason that we have not moved nearer the sea," Oromë said truthfully, even as he rolled his eyes at the oddity of his brother.

A gentle smile played on Irmo's beautiful face.  "I am glad," he said, his words slowing in the way people's did right before they dropped off to sleep.

"Will you be able to stay awake for the wedding?" Oromë asked in amusement, unable to help himself.  Irmo opened one eye part way, but quickly closed it again.  Beside him Estë laughed.

"What could be more exciting than seeing one of our kin married?  I doubt even my beloved could sleep through that," she said lightly.  She glanced at him, but he seemed already in his realm of dreams.

"We will not keep you longer," Varda said.  "It has been a pleasure."

"And to you as well, my Lady.  May good fortune shine upon your path," Estë replied kindly to them both as they took their leave.  Oromë gave his Lady his arm and in an instant they were back in his woods.  Unconsciously he breathed deeply to be on familiar ground, away from the cloying atmospheres of his kin. 

It took him a moment to realize that his Lady was once again watching him closely.  He lifted an eyebrow in silent question.  She replied by shifting her gaze to the house where they could both feel Elrond curled up next to the fire with a book in his lap, his spirit humming with quiet happiness.  It soothed Oromë instantly, settling everything within himself back to its rightful place.  He could easily have lost himself in watching his husband for the rest of the night, and not noticed his Lady leave.  But of course she had other ideas.

"I have enjoyed this day," she said sternly, and he gave her a curious look sensing levels of complexities in her music that would take him years to unravel.

"Then did you find whatever it was you sought?" he asked politely, knowing his Lady's mind and intent were beyond his knowledge and always would be. 

Varda pursed her lips together in thought, once again focusing on the content family hidden behind wooden walls.  "I believe I did.  But even if I did not, there was much to be gleaned by this outing.  Much that I would not have seen but through your eyes, and I thank you for that."

Oromë gave her a peculiar look, making no attempt to hide the fact that he did not understand her meaning nor was he making any great attempt at doing so.  She gave him a fond smile in return, and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

"I see your mind is now with your husband, and I will not keep you.  Thank you for today."

"You are welcome, my Lady.  I am always glad for your presence," Oromë responded promptly.  Her smile turned distant at that, and she patted his arm distractedly before disappearing.  The Hunter gave her odd gesture a moment's thought before forgetting all about it. 

He turned resolutely to his home, ready to snatch up his husband and disappear with him for the rest of the evening.

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