#considered wise

He shined down upon her and she thought perhaps he may be almost as bright as the fires of Arien till she realized that Arien was actually crowning just behind his head and adding to his brilliance.  

He is of the Maiar surely, she thought.  

When Nerdanel had left her father’s home she had wandered aimlessly across Aman.  She had no purpose.  Her children were gone, her husband lost.  Her role over the past centuries gone from her as abruptly as the light of this land was taken.  How dark those times had been for all.  Nerdanel did not dare believe she suffered any more than any person in Aman, especially Alqualondë.  

But she carried a weight about her.  For she felt the pain of all Aman as acutely as her own.  For was she not responsible in some way?  Unable to keep her family together, unable to teach her children wrong from right?  But then she did not know what wrong from right is anymore.  The lines that defined such things becoming blurred and bent. 

She could find no peace, she was lost.  And so she wandered.

It was Nienna herself who found her.  Wandering in the wild, aimless and emaciated.  She could not eat.  She did not sleep.  She found the new light of the land disconcerting and lacking somehow.  Although the stars shone now in a way they never had but she could find no comfort in that.

And Nienna found her, drawn to her suffering perhaps, and wrapped Nerdanel in her embrace.  She carried Nerdanel back to her halls and stayed with her, comforted her, wept with her.  And for a brief time, Nerdanel knew peace.

But Nienna was not with her now.  There was much healing that was needed in Aman and she was called elsewhere.  

And Nerdanel, like a spoiled petulant child had resented this, and in the Valar’s absence wrapped herself back in her pain.  Till now.

 He smiled and she felt her pain slowly start to ebb away, he smiled and she was able to see through her grief, he smiled and she thought of her father’s warm and loving embrace and the comfort that only a father could give.

He spoke and she watched attentively and could not help but feel that she was a little girl waiting to see the great magician pull a coin from her hair.  

When Isil shone forth for the first time, Tilion's face beheld bloodshed on the shores, a cairn outside a scorched hall, a land and people changed forever and still suffering from shock and grief. And that was only accounting for the Elves still in their care in the Blessed Realm; those gone to the east were, by decree, beyond his reach.

He had left Manwë's side and gone to Everwinter, knowing there was little he might do on the mountain and much good he might accomplish working within Nienna's halls. He had remained there ever since, nurturing hope where he could and battling Melkor's darkness in his own way.

Many had been able to grieve, learn the lessons of grief, and return home to pick up their lives best they could. The halls here were not nearly as full as they had been at first. No, it was in the eastern lands beyond the sea where great and terrible things now happened. In Valinor, it was Mandos that had become the center of attentions for the fates that played out and those Halls where Nienna and her Maiar went most frequently.

She must have trusted Nerdanel to his care, and as his lady never did anything without purpose, there was a reason for it. He was always student to the Children's teachings even when they did not realize it, needing them as much – perhaps more – than they needed him. For what other reason had he come to Eä but out of love for even the possibility of them?

He laughed softly at her words, the sound of bells bright and merry in his voice. "No lord am I, only a servant of this home," he said warmly, his blue and purple raiment shining with iridescence in the light. "I am Olórin, but I fear I am the one who has strayed into a fair vision this morning."