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Making History

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Kanafinwё Makalaurё was dying. Most of the Valar found this absolutely unacceptable. In fact, all but Ulmo were resolved not to let death befall him.

He slept brokenly in the Healing Halls at Imladris, the city's lord tending him with pursed lips and buried panic. Fever had near claimed him ere dawn that morning, but by some miracle, he still drew breath. Elrond Peredhil sent up a prayer to all the Valar and settled in for another fearful night at his foster father's bedside.

He'd scarcely finished any work that day, too preoccupied with worry for the ancient elf barely clinging to life in a bed three floors down. Finally, Erestor and Glorfindel had walked in, taken the stack of paperwork from his desk, and shoved him toward the door.

Now he sat in a hard chair for the third night in a row, a too-familiar worry nagging at him. The same worry he'd felt before the Battle of Dagorlad and—and before Sirion, Eregion, Numenor, so many others… He took a shaky breath and resigned himself to the fact that his Adar wasn't going to last the night. And if Námo wished to claim Maglor Fёanorion, Elrond would be at his side until the last, and pick up the pieces after.

A furious gesture stirred storms on the sea far below. "We are not meant to do this!" Ulmo cried.

His protests went unacknowledged save by Vairё.

"We are doing this, with or without your help," she said, her thousand eyes unblinking. The aqueous Vala was shocked that even the usually placid Vairё was so determined to go against Eru's plan. He knew she was trying to convince him to join in with their treason, but he would not. The last time a Vala went against Eru… No. Ulmo would not help them. Not even if he could hear the Peredhil's desperate, panicked prayer… Guilt started to creep in, but he turned away from where the other Valar were working their magic.

It was Nienna's shout that told him something had gone wrong. Ulmo whirled to face her and the others, no longer worried about what Eru would think. He stepped in without thinking, following Varda's lead. He didn't know exactly what they'd been doing at first, but now it seemed like a half-desperate attempt to keep the subjects of their spell—because there were apparently two of them now—from dying horribly.

When the urgency had passed, they all gathered to see what they had wrought, and they stood aghast when they saw something that should not be.

Ulmo glared at the others, not quiteknowing what to say but needing to say something. Finally, he decided on a rebuke. "I knew you shouldn't have tried anything so drastic. I told you not to do this! And you did it anyway, and it went wrong, and now look what's happened." He gestured sharply with each sentence, stirring up his ocean further until the skies had gone dark.

Something should be done. Something must be done. But this mistake couldn't be fixed by anyone save Eru himself.