Aule's Dilemma by Uvatha the Horseman  

Aule Tries and Fails

The Mansions of Aulë - Present Day (TA 3018)

At breakfast the next day, Aulë announced that everyone in the Mansions, his Maiar and Aulëndil, as well as the small number of Yavanna's people in residence, would have to clear out of the Mansions from early afternoon until well after dark. He'd worked alone on secret or dangerous projects before, so what he was asking of them wasn't unusual. He suggested they spend their day off at Market Day in Valmar and gave each of them a few coins to spend at the market.

All morning, he had his Maiar bring wood by the armload and baskets of charcoal to the courtyard, and pile it by the largest of the demo forges. They carried water to top off the largest of the quench barrels and filled a smaller one with oil. He had them bring all the tongs he thought he'd need: wolf jaw, bolt, offset, and pickup tongs, as well as several hammers, including a short-handled sledge. He arranged them on the tool bench in the order he'd use them, and laid his favorite hammer on the anvil.

The noon hour arrived. It was the worst time for forging, the time of day when it was impossible to tell the color, and hence the temperature, of hot metal in direct sunlight.

Aulë released his servants from all work for the rest of the day and posted Rhosfindel and Celebtan, the highest-ranking of his Maiar, to stand watch on the road to keep anyone from returning early. From their long faces, he guessed they weren't happy about having to stand guard duty while everyone else got to go to the Market, but they got up and trudged down the road to take up their positions without complaint.

Once everyone had left, Aulë walked through the buildings to be sure they were really empty. Once he was sure he was alone, he unsealed the Vault and brought out the specialized tools he'd made for this task: clamps, needle-nosed tongs, and a tiny chisel with a super-hardened tip, tools specially made for the project that he preferred to keep out of sight. The anvil had a hole in the back for holding tools. Into it, he fixed the jig he'd made to hold the Ring while he worked.

After all the tools were out, he retrieved the schematic showing the Ring's inner workings and pinned it to the easel they used during demos. The list of steps needed to do the Unmaking, simplified and numbered for clarity, went on the tool bench, weighted down by a pair of tongs. He spread out his notes on the edge of the hearth and skimmed them, jotting down a few reminders to himself. Setup was complete.

He moved slowly, taking longer than necessary to arrange his tools, making extra trips for things he probably wouldn't need. He didn't want to do this, but he was a high-ranking Vala whose duty it was to enforce the law. The law came before his personal feelings. He didn't have a choice about doing this. Unfortunately, the only way through it was through it, and putting it off didn't make it any better.

The afternoon progressed. The shadow of the Mansions moved across the flagstones until the anvil, the edge of the hearth, and finally the tool bench. The light was perfect for forging. This was it.

He made one more trip to the Vault to retrieve the small leather pouch that held the Ring. His mouth was dry, and it had nothing to do with thirst.

With everything he needed laid out within easy reach, Aulë donned his well-worn leather apron, but also leather gloves, sleeves, and something like a helmet with a mesh of tiny holes over the eyes. Over the physical gear, he added a few shielding enchantments. He practiced going through each of the steps, both to memorize the list of instructions and to get used to the weight and clumsiness of the heavy protective gear.

At the anvil, he opened the pouch and shook the Ring into the jig he'd made to hold it during the Unmaking. It looked like smooth yellow gold, with no writing on it. As he adjusted the fit, his hand brushed against it accidentally. It was filled with a sense of resignation, like a man being led to the scaffold. Aulë regretted that. He didn't like to cause suffering, not even to an inanimate object.

He built up the fire, using an enchantment to make it burn hotter than usual. He worked the bellows until jets of flame shot out of the mounded fuel. Using tongs, he put the Ring in the fire, some parts artificially cooled and shielded from the heat with clay. He followed the list, taking care not to forget a step or do anything out of order. He focused on the procedure and the mechanics of how the parts fit together, not on what it would cost. Finally he lifted the Ring, white-hot, glowing too brightly to show the writing. He fixed it in the jig made to grip it for this last, fatal colored glass beads.

-o-o-o-

The last step. He took it from the fire and dropped it on the jig, placed a chisel over a spot he knew how to find based on the fiery writing, and raised the sledge.

It was like the Dwarves, all over again. Only this time it was the first apprentice he'd ever trained, the one most like himself, his favorite.

Do it in one strike, make it quick. It was more merciful that way. The Ring cooled until the inscription was visible again. At this temperature, the blow he was about to strike would do nothing. The moment passed. The hammer slipped from his fingers and struck a paving stone.

"I can't do it." He lowered his arm.

Aulë stared into the fire. He didn't tend the fire; he didn't work the bellows. The flames burned down, the embers glowed deep orange and red, and the Ring continued to cool. The inscription faded until it was almost unreadable.

He stripped off his protective gear, then slumped onto a bench with his face in his hands. He felt disgusted with himself, not for failing at the task, but for having agreed to do it in the first place.