Summary: Not all is well in Valinor, and things are not what they seem below the surface. A retelling of the decline.
Warnings: Possibly AU.

Thank you, Lyra for nominating this for a MEFA!



Before the Fall

They convene in the Mahanaxar before the release of their brother.

The Children will come to grief, one says in the minds of her brothers and sisters. So it is ordained, and I shall weep for them, so they must not weep themselves.

Why must they come to grief? Cannot they be glad? For this is the Blessed Realm, and not the toilsome outer lands, asks another.

For a little while still they shall be, but there will be greater weeping in the end if the story will not play out as it must. I have seen it, the eldest of them states and rises to his feet. Worry not, sister. They will not go without believing they have a purpose other than the one they are serving. The Children are not so selfless. And would you not rather find joy in the happiness of a few, and brighter once grief has passed, instead of having our sister mourn the grief of all?

I would see them all live in joy.

This is Arda Marred. Such joy is impossible here and the one who would undo our plans has already been born. It began with his mother's choice when he was but a babe, and there will come a time when he will seek to supplant us. We must take action.

In the end there is agreement, for the Elder King allows no disobedience unless it is within his designs. Prison-doors are thrown open, chains undone, and their brother released from three ages of bondage.

Go forth. Do what is your office, he is told, and he goes to do as he is bid. He whispers and poisons and spreads the dark.

They watch the years passing and the children growing in pride and folly as their wayward brother acts his part. They watch the golden noon of Valinor darken into gloom and mete out punishments that would be just, were it not their own design that brought these deeds about. But the Children do not know this, and do not know that this is not the end. Not yet. For although the rebellious prince has departed and they sit in peace, it is not enough yet. Many have been touched, both by their brother and the son of Finwë, and they need to be found out. For peace and gladness, only those that believe the lies they are told must remain. Fëanáro and Melkor would speak truths before Eru about the treacherous Valar, if Eru took an interest, but there is silence from his servants and no room for these truths in the Blessed Realm.

And so they convene and wait and cozen and council until fate takes shape and night comes, and the Trees fail. It is not by chance that the hunt returns empty-handed and no one stalls the marching forth.

And when Fëanáro declares to let the cowards keep the city, they sit in the Mahanaxar and smile, because at long last their plans have come into fruition, and never if not now the Wrath of the Valar appears justified.

The Elder King's voice rings in the minds of his siblings. Take your artists and philosophers and visionaries and the unblinded that disrupt the peace. Go forth to your death with them and let us keep the cowards, little pawn.

End Notes: I wish I could say the plot was mine. Instead I'm deeply indepted to Plato's The Republic and his idea of the 'noble lie' that allows for unconditional love of the 'ideal' state or city, as well as Asimov's The End of Eternity which makes Earth a questionale Utopia as all the usual creative forces had to be abolished.

In conjunction with Elleth finding Manwë's naïveté regarding Melkor's evil hard to comprehend... well. Deconstruction is fun.