[Child of the 7th Age]

Mandos listened intently to the plea of the fallen ones and the obvious respect and gentleness that they had tendered to Giledhel. For a long time, he stood immobile and silent, his eyes grave and imponderable as he weighed what had just transpired in his presence. Náma was not one given to foolish shows of emotion. There was a price to be paid for every evil deed, and these four were no exceptions. The Noldor who had so foolishly deserted Aman had received no blessing from him, but only an unbreakable curse. Surely, these four deserved no more or less, she for her faithlessness to her husband and family, and they for their unspeakable deeds.

This was not the first time Mandos had confronted the fëar of corrupted Elves. Such creatures were rare, but they occasionally hung out in the gloomy anterooms of Mandos, refusing to come within the Great Hall and face their Doom. Instead, they stubbornly remained in the most distant courtyard, letting slip away whatever tiny chance they might have to regain who and what they had once been. Sometimes even those who were brave enough to approach him could not be helped. The ugliness of their lives still weighed too heavily on their hearts. The kindest thing he could do was to have Lórien lay heavy bonds of sleep upon them, sending them into the strange dream world where they could ponder their misdeeds for age after age until they could begin to face who and what they had become. Perhaps, he should do the same for these....

Still, Nàmo felt that somehow these poor creatures were different. He honestly could not recall any situation similar to this. He thrust deep within his mind, searching through his memories that had been given to him at the very dawn of creation. Both he and Manwë had been granted the gift of understanding certain strains and threads in the music that no other Vala had been privileged to hear. What few knew or understood was that he heard the strains of the music still and that sometimes it revealed a new secret. He never spoke of these things to others, but only to Manwë when he requested him to do so.

A tiny light flickered within Nàmo's mind, its sparking ray extending out even into the darknesss of Mandos. There was no difference between that ray of light and the melody that had come to him while in a dreamlike state. The music had been utterly clear in its meaning. The time was drawing near when those who had been most corrupted might be granted one last chance. Many would refuse but a few would find their way back to where they had begun, utterly changed and yet not changed. Perhaps this strange quartet was the first who would go down such a path. For somehow the fate of the woman was not too different than that of her male companions. They could not be split apart.

Turning towards Giledhel and the other three, Mandos addressed them in cool, even tones. "What would you have me do then to help you? What boon do you request? You may not leave these halls for Aman. The bloody path that you followed in life will not permit you to venture yet to Tol Eressea or the shores beyond it, for surely the silver light there would be more than your eyes could bear. Still, I think you have things yet to learn. What do you ask of me?"