Creations pass, but Mairon’s encounter with the stranger shadows his working thoughts.
So he sends word to the dark-haired Maia’s workshop with a description and arranges to meet him at an inn. He takes up a stool, and when the other Maia arrives, swiftly orders them refreshments.
His companion too wastes no time, perhaps sensing his reluctance to begin their conversation.Â
‘Have you called me here for a reason?’ The stranger’s voice is smooth and rich, and dark like a well-caught crust of bread. Back to the window, his eyes are in shadow, but Mairon knows they are a deep brown, resinous like the sap of a tree. The light from outside sets his hair alight from behind, his dark locks and waves carding the rays into shafts over his shoulder. Dust motes dance golden between them against the wine-red walls.Â
Mairon holds his gaze for as long as it takes for him to think through his options, then dips to study his drink, thumbing the grain at the carved stem.
‘I cannot place your intentions.’
The dark-haired Maia hesitates, and Mairon’s head snaps up in time to see an unreadable expression disappear behind a wry smile. ‘Does it matter, when you know I speak true, and our minds align?’
Mairon exhales, twisting his features in return. Their exchange has not left his thoughts, and it is true he feels an affinity. ‘Regardless.’ He looks down, peering intently at his soot-stained fingers. ‘I would still know your designs. We are to inform AulĂ« of any associations with other workshops, so he can ensure our work together is aligned beneath Eru’s will.’ He steels himself to meet the Maia’s eyes. ‘I would not wish to keep our acquaintance from him. I enjoyed speaking with you in the forge. I would hope to do so again. To work together, even.’
The stranger studies him carefully, and his being seems to quicken underneath his attention.
‘Why do you think I am here?’ The Maia gestures to the stones of the inn. ‘I could have ignored your summons.’
Mairon swallows nervously. ‘I would hope it is because I can offer you something in return for your counsel. Although I do not know what.’
The Maia seems to weigh his words, now, as well as his features. He feels like he is being examined for flaws, as a stonemason would a piece of marble. Eventually, the stranger reaches into his clothes, pulls out a piece of darkened rock, and sets it on the countertop.
‘I saw how dutifully you attended to your creations.’ The Maia pushes the rock towards him, lightly scratching the varnish beneath. Mairon frowns, and reaches to rub the mark away, but the stranger catches his hand against the wood. Trapping him there against the surface. His breath catches.
‘I need to know what this is, and how to work with it.’ Mairon’s hand is freed, and he does not attempt to rub the mark again. ‘Learn all you can about this ore. I will come to your workshop in a week. Tell me then what you have learned, and no other. I cannot do it myself, but I know you will succeed.’
Mairon stares at the mysterious ore, which glints at him. His tongue sticks in his throat. But before he can clear it, the stranger is moving, long cloak swinging behind evenly paced steps. He calls out.
‘Stranger.’ He intends to reject the request, in obesience to his Vala. But instead finds himself saying, ‘What should I call you?’
The dark-haired Maia flashes a keen smile back through the doorway. In the enduring light of the Trees, Mairon marks again that his form is beautiful.Â
‘In time, Impatient One.’
Angbang Week 2025
Day 1: Friend | Enemy
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