THE DOOMSMAN

The day was clear and bright, not too cold or warm.  It had rained the night before, and the world still had the new rain smell to it, the drops of water still catching light but not dripping on anyone.  Certainly no one would get their feet wet upon the lawn.  Of course it was beautiful.  There had to be a prerequisite somewhere that stated the wedding of a Valar had to be perfect.  Elladan wondered if they didn't take the matter into their own hands, but he wasn't exactly sure if the Valar had that kind of power.

"Okay, you're making me dizzy," Elrohir said from behind him where he sat on the bed.  Elladan spared him a look, but continued his trek back and forth around the room.  He was dressed in the rich robes that his husband's former wife had gifted him.  A part of him felt like a little kid dressed up in his father's best attire without permission, while another part, probably Námo's part, felt completely at ease in the soft velvet that he was sure would always be the perfect temperature to have on, and was probably stain resistant too.  It was the little things that really made the impact, as his mother would say.

"Maybe if you pace faster you'll outrun time, and it'll be even longer before the ceremony," Elrohir mused unhelpfully.  Elladan gave him another dirty look, even as he peeked out the window for the hundredth time to see the lawn outside their house filling with guests. 

There weren't really that many when compared with a normal elvish wedding, so it could be called small, but Elladan didn't think he'd made it clear enough to his mother that he didn't really want anyone other than his immediate family there.  Which was kind of selfish, since he really should have allowed for Námo's desires, but having anyone Námo would have wanted at the wedding would have only made him more nervous.  Elrond had mentioned that it was nicer to have more guests in this regard so that there were more people to draw the attention of the Valar. 

Elladan couldn't help but be nervous that all of the Valar would be there, even if he knew two of them already.  Oromë had graciously accepted their request to perform the wedding, though he was clearly amused by it.  Doubtless he had never been called upon even as a witness before, even though he was a Valar.  But Elladan trusted him to do well, and to be watchful of him so that he could wrap it up quickly if the half-elf was about to throw up.  At the moment, that felt like a distinct possibility.

"Do you think it's too late to just ditch the wedding and get a quick ceremony in Alqualondë?" he asked Námo mentally.  It had taken him some time to get used to speaking this way, but he soon found it a better way to communicate nuance to his struggling mate.  Námo seemed to grasp things more quickly if Elladan thought it to him.  He was probably adding emotions and memories to his speech unintentionally that the Doomsman could pick up on.  The half-elf wasn't yet skilled enough to listen with that much understanding, but he did like the intimacy of the communications.

Even if he still felt a little cracked every time he did it.

"Your stepfather is the best tracker in all the world.  I don't think we'd make it," Námo replied drolly from where he waited in another wing of the house with Oromë.  His quiet sense of humor had been a delight for Elladan to discover after their bonding, and he continued to nurture it whenever Námo let it loose.

"Indeed, I would catch you long before you left the forest.  Celebrían would kill me if I didn't," Oromë said, having heard the comment.  Elladan wasn't sure when his thoughts were private or not, or if the Hunter really did hear everything and was just so worldly that nothing surprised him.  Elladan had to put his trust in his stepfather and Námo's promise that he would grow quieter over time. 

The Hunter sent a calming pulse along with his words, helping to fight Elladan's anxiety.  He was probably doing the same with his brother Doomsman too.  "Where is father?" the half-elf asked to keep himself distracted.

"He's with his parents," Oromë said.  Eärendil and Elwing had arrived two days ago to help with the wedding.  Their presence had helped to divert Elladan's attention from the upcoming wedding so that he hadn't really had a chance to be nervous until today.  Which was good, because he was sure he was making up for the lack by putting three days worth of anxiety into the few hours from dawn until the wedding.

Elladan loved his grandparents, and he loved the way his father was around them.  Elrond practically glowed whenever they visited, and Erestor had commented that it reminded him of what he was like before Elros had died.  It made Elladan sad to think about, and he always held a little closer to his bond with Elrohir.

Eärendil had a quiet sense of humor that rose up when least expected, and slid in so smoothly that Elladan always missed it at first.  Elwing, on the other hand, had a wicked streak that had everyone in stitches.  But there was an air of sadness about them both.  Again Erestor surmised that Elwing had only begun to find her humor again after so long suppressing it with her grief, and it was sharper for it.  Eärendil had a touch of that Noldor staid quality that made him a little harder to get close to, but since Elladan had met his great-grandfather Tuor that one time, he amended that observation to Eärendil being just like his father. 

Tuor could be funny, but he had a quiet watchfulness about him that he never let relax.  Elladan was sure that if he could get him in a human tavern with a pint of beer in his hand, he would loosen up spectacularly.  Oddly Elladan could picture Finarfin right beside him.  The half-elf had been really nervous to meet his grandmother's father, but the King of the Noldor wasn't anything like he'd thought he'd be.  That wasn't to say he didn't have the haughty, staid Noldor-thing going for him, but he had a pretty decent sense of humor.  Better, he seemed to understand his daughter's deficiencies and would listen openly where many of the other Noldor Elladan had met generally made an opinion and wouldn't change it if their lives depended on it.  Still, Elladan didn't think he needed to see his other great-grandfather any more often than once a century.

At the edge of his mind, he could hear Námo listening amused.  But he made no action to focus the half-elf, and Elladan knew his fiancé well enough now to know that Námo was using his wandering mind for as much of a distraction as Elladan was.  But even as Elladan felt the coil tightening in his belly, there was a wave of calm building too.  That was Námo.  The Doomsman didn't do anxiety or nervousness.  He was the pillar of calm and steady in a rocky storm, even if he really wasn't.  Elladan wondered how long it had taken Námo to go from simply projecting that image to believing in it so much that he could really be that poised. 

The half-elf wasn't going to question the truth of it at the moment, but he had promised to himself that over the next few centuries, he was going to force his husband to take a hard look at every aspect of himself to see what was really him and what was just shadows.  Elladan knew it would be hard, and he knew that he would have to do the same with himself, but he also knew that Námo needed to clean up the clutter of Ages of negative thoughts and hiding.  The Doomsman would also have to learn how to build a shield between himself and the world, a shadow-puppet for others to see, but to stop accepting that the shadow-puppet was actually a reflection of some sort of himself.  With the anchor of their bond, Elladan felt he could do it.

It was amazing how much the bond had changed things.  Everything was so much easier now, all the miscommunications easier to unravel.  It really shouldn't be so simple.  Simply bonding souls shouldn't have solved as many problems as it did, but it seemed that was the case.  Of course, they still had those occasional bumps where one of them made an erroneous assumption, but they were easier to recognize, easier to fix. 

But Elladan didn't attribute all of that to the bond.  Their little misunderstanding after their first time had done a lot to get them in the right mindset to really learn about each other.  Námo had been practically glued to his side, and they had spent all of that time exploring everything about each other.  It felt good, and Elladan finally felt like he was on an even keel, that he was where he belonged and with whom he belonged.  Nothing seemed so out of reach anymore, and the future looked very promising.

If only he could get through this blasted wedding.

"Would it help if I started the wedding early?" Oromë's dark voice rumbled in his thoughts.

"You better not say that unless you're willing to back it up," Elladan said, finally stopping his pacing to stand in front of the mirror.

"I am," the Hunter replied easily, his humor at the two of them obvious enough for even Elladan to pick up on.

"What about mother?"

"All of the guests are here, and your father is with her.  I'm sure she wouldn't want them to wait."

"Well? Get on with it," Elladan pushed, now thrumming with tension.  He could hear Oromë's laughter as clearly as if the Vala were standing right behind his shoulder.

The clear piercing tone of a horn rang through the forest, probably echoing throughout all of Valinor and possibly even beyond.  The flutter of birds startled from the treetops could be heard even as gentle music started.

"That's our cue," Elrohir said, coming to stand behind his brother.  The younger half-elf set his hands on Elladan's broad shoulders, the contact instantly bringing a different kind of calm.  "You going to be okay?"

The eldest of Elrond's children thought for a moment.  He could feel Námo's spirit as clearly as he could his own flesh.  This wedding wasn't real.  The important bonding had already happened, and no one could undo it.  This was for his mother, and his family, and Námo's kin.  It was to boldly declare what they would be happy just living quietly.  But there was a purpose to it.  Already he could feel Námo pull his power around himself, ready to prove to his kin that this was wise, that this was destined, and that this was his Father's will.  That was important to him, it was necessary for him to move on, and Elladan wasn't going to prevent that in any way.

Taking a deep breath, he found his anxiety gone, somehow stretched so thin between the two of them that neither could really feel it.  Standing straight, Elladan could almost feel his own spirit begin to glow with the faint power his father had gifted him.  He wasn't going to let his husband down, and he wasn't going to let his husband do this on his own.

Striding confidently to the door, he glanced over his shoulder to respond to his twin.

"Absolutely."

******

Námo slowly drifted back to focus.  Stretching, he winced at the deep-seated ache that was so unfamiliar to him, but oddly felt so right.  Beside him Elladan huffed but curled closer to his side.  Even completely asleep, the Doomsman could feel the soul-deep contentment that floated through his husband.

By mutual consent they had decided to spend their first night together as a wedded couple in his rooms in Mandos.  It was starting with a fresh slate, making new memories to counter the complete disaster the last time had been.  And it seemed they had succeeded spectacularly.

Of course, Námo had lost himself in the moment again.  But this time he was ready.  Beforehand he had sought out his brother Hunter, who had patiently gone over every possible thing he might need to know about his own reactions to sex.  It must have been excruciatingly embarrassing for Oromë, but he had done it with his own grace, and Námo would be eternally grateful to him for the help.  Hopefully now that he had learned how to keep the lines of communication open with his husband, he could avoid the largest pitfalls.

Time shifted slowly in the Halls, and Námo who had no need for sleep spent the long hours simply watching his new husband.  It felt good to be able to definitively call him that now.  Though, really, in the eyes of the Valar they had been married for months already.  But it felt more real now somehow.  Námo couldn't tell why.  He would have to meditate on it later.  There were a lot of new things for him to meditate on now.  It brought home sharply the waste of his time before this moment.  All of his meditating, all of his divining of the past was but a never-ending loop.  The Doomsman thought the same things over and over again, thinking them something new.  He had never realized how many aspects of life he had completely ignored.  Hopefully now, with his husband at his side, he could explore more fully the bounty of Eru's creation.  It sent a thrill of new life through his old veins.

A quiet thrum of music distracted him from the contemplation of his half-elf.  Doubtless he was not meant to hear it, but he was the Doomsman, and almost nothing escaped his attention.  He denied it perhaps, if he felt like it, but it did not escape detection.  A little more focused now, he followed the quiet song that brushed the edges of his domain as it moved further into his Halls.

Námo looked down at Elladan, checking to make sure that he was well and truly asleep.  Carefully, guided by an impulse he could not explain, he disentangled himself from the sleepy half-elf.  Elladan murmured softly, but otherwise remained still.  It was only a moment's work to think his clothes back onto himself, and the Vala prepared to leave.

But at the door he paused.

Looking back at his sleeping husband, he was hit with the overpowering memory of the ache in Elladan's soul that night by the river.  Sighing, he returned to sit on the edge of the bed.  Gently his fingers stroked the soft raven locks.

"Elladan?" he said as softly as he could.  The half-elf did not stir.  Continuing his soothing petting, he called again and again until the half-elf gave a mumble of annoyance, and cracked open bleary silver eyes.

"I'm going to leave for a moment.  I should be right back," the Doomsman whispered, keeping his mental voice in that soothing register he used for the most battered of souls.  Elladan grunted, before pulling away and promptly drifting back to sleep.

Amused, Námo kissed his husband's forehead perceiving that this was the extent of the attention he could command at the moment.  Feeling more confident, he quickly left his rooms for the cold of his domain.  It was amazing how simply sharing a space could so drastically change it, but his rooms were now warm and inviting, working their way towards a lived-in feeling that had nothing to do with candle-lighting and red sheets.

Coming from that, the hallway was like a blast of cold dark ether, weighted down with grief and loneliness.  For a moment he wanted to retreat back to the warm nest he had just left.  It brought home to him that he had more to change than his own outlook.  But that was important too, because now he saw that his own loneliness and despair had been poisoning his home, and was doubtless not doing his charges any good.  He trusted that the warmth of his love for Elladan would help speed the healing of many souls, which is turn only made his heart grow stronger with affection.  He was finally in a positive cycle.

Moving unerringly through the twists of corridors, it did not take him long to catch up to the quiet music.  Námo was unsurprised to end up in his former wife's personal rooms.  He stood silently at the door, watching her quietly spin a new tapestry.  For a moment he was struck by the similarity with the last time he had been here, and yet by how completely different he was from that time.

"My Lord Námo," Vairë said without turning her attention from her delicate weaving. 

"My Lady Vairë," he greeted in turn.  It was a long moment before anything more was said, their souls just resting instead of the ceaseless spiritual interaction that usually happened among the Valar.  It was peaceful.

"Are you happy?" she asked suddenly, glancing at him from beneath her long dark lashes.  Námo considered her question for another long moment.  Not because he did not know, but because he wished to take a moment to revel in the sheer depth of his joy.

"I am, my Lady," he said solemnly, and that was the most understated thing that had ever left his mind.  A small smile crossed Vairë's red lips as she bent over her work.

"I am most glad, my Lord," she said quietly.  Námo cocked his head to the side, studying the waves of her soul that rippled through the air like the ripples on a lake.  Now that everything was settled reasonably well with Elladan, he found himself falling easily back into his old way of perceiving.  He had not noticed before because he had had too much else on his mind, but now he could see Vairë with a level of detail few could match.

"And you, sister?  Are you happy?" he asked after a lengthy pause.  Vairë flashed him a smile.

"Everyone asks me that.  I am very well, brother," she said easily, but Námo caught a tendril of her song and held it fast, garnering her attention.  She gave him a questioning look. 

"You and I never bonded, but we have spent Ages in each other's company.  You cannot distance yourself so easily from me, nor will I accept these half-truths you let fall so easily for our siblings.  Tell me truly, are you happy?  For me, for yourself?" he ordered quietly. 

Vairë looked at him for a very long moment before sighing and setting her shuttle down.  "I should have known that it would be you of everyone who would demand more than I have given willingly.  It is not untruthful to say that I am happy, for I am busier now than I have ever been, and I feel more accomplished than ever before.  I feel that I am doing something useful, and that means more to me than I can say."

She paused, and Námo caught the note of sadness in her chord.  He gave a gentle push on her soul to keep the momentum of her disclosure going.  The Weaver graced him with a sad smile.  "I am happy now, or rather happier than I had been, but I know well that the work of our lives is not what defines us, it is not what gives us true meaning as soul-children of our Father.  Seeing you of all people reminds me of that, and I wonder if I shall ever find what you have found, what our brother Hunter has found.  I find myself wishing for such a love.  I do not wish to have you back, for I can see that you and I were never a match in that regard, and so letting you go was never the difficult part.  I . . . I find myself hopelessly envious when I see you with Lord Elladan, when I hear your spirit wander about these Halls so happy that I think you must be in a daze."

Námo did not blush, but thought fondly that perhaps she was quite correct on this point.  But he said nothing and kept his spirit quiet, encouraging her to say all that she would say.

"But more than that, I find that I fear to look forward beyond this moment.  I fear to look into the future and see only me and this work.  I love it now, but it could so easily be a burden.  And when I am still alone in another hundred Ages, would I not grow bitter from it?  I fear that almost as much as I fear the loneliness.  I do not wish to spend my eternity without someone by my side, someone special just for me.  However," Vairë said, stalling any comfort Námo might have offered.  There was a completely incomprehensible smile on her face, neither thoughtful nor sad, joyous nor contrite.  The Doomsman had no idea what a smile like that meant.

"Even as I fear this new future, I embrace it whole-heartedly.  I fear loneliness, but I do not dwell on it, not that much, not really.  If I have learned anything by watching you through this trial, by listening to the unerring advice our brother Hunter has given you, I have learned to put my faith in our Father.  If I am to suffer alone, He will give me the strength to endure, perhaps to find a hidden joy in it.  But I think He will rather have a mate for me.  And if I am patient, He will lead me to my own soulmate.  I have faith in that, and it carries me through each day, gives me hope for the future.  So, yes, I am happy.  It might not be forever, but I would not have you bear any burden that was my doing.  You are not responsible for me, and your fate cannot be guilty of my sorrow or my joy.  It is, just as you and I are.  I am glad of your joy, and it brings me comfort and pleasure."

Námo remained silent after her speech, studying her to see if there was anything she was hiding.  But he saw that this was the truth as she saw it, and he nodded to himself.  Straightening, the Doomsman walked over to where she sat.  Vairë watched him curiously, and with a slight hint of alarm.  Both of which turned into bemusement and amazement when he bent to kiss her cheek.

"I wish for your happiness as well.  If there is any task you would have of me, I would gladly undertake it.  If I can help you find your mate, I would do that also.  I may not be your soulmate, and he or she may not show for time uncounted, but I will be here for you.  You will not be alone; we will work together as we always should have.  I will walk this road with you," he said solemnly.  She gave him that puzzling smile again, her eyes misty.

"Thank you, my Lord," Vairë said sincerely, ducking her head to hide her tears of gratitude.  Námo nodded again.  He could sense that she needed a moment alone, and so left silently.  But even as he walked quickly to return to his husband's side, he vowed to himself that he would keep an eye on Vairë. And that whatever happiness he had now been granted, he would share with her in turn.  There was no limit on his heart.

THE END

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