Aule's Dilemma by Uvatha the Horseman  

Aule Learns How to Unmake the Ring

The Mansions of Aulë - Present Day (TA 3018)

Aulë built up the fire and brought the Ring up to white-heat.

After bringing it to white-hot many times, he'd memorized the major structures and the bands of connection between them, the sinews and ligaments, he still didn't know how they worked.

He reached for it with the tongs but lost his grip, and it disappeared among the coals. Both it and the fire were yellow-white, so it took some digging to find it again.

He finally found it among the coals and pulled it out. He was accustomed to holding it right-side up with the first phrase of the Binding spell showing. Now it hung out of the jaws of the tongs at an awkward angle, flipped upside down with the first phrase covered and the second and third phrases showing. Looking at it from an odd angle, he saw a structure so small and insignificant, he hadn't noticed it before.

It was an invisibility spell. Invisibility was one of the first spells taught to beginners. There was no need to give the Ring an Invisibility spell. Its master could have made himself invisible just by willing it. They all could.

There was something wrapped around the tiny an Invisibility spell, something larger and more complicated. It was common practice to create an advanced spell by taking a simple spell and building on it. Concealment spells, which were difficult to cast, used Invisibility spells as a base.

The Concealment spell explained something Aulë had wondered about. They knew Mairon was wearing the Ring when captured by the Númenorians. They could have taken it from him at any time, but they hadn't. Why not? Because they didn't know he had it. They didn't know it existed at all.

By this time, Aulë knew what to look for, he could spot it easily. The Concealment spell was part of another structure, which then linked to another. The little slip of Invisibility spell was the thread that, when pulled, unraveled the rest of the mystery.

One thing that surprised him was how much of his own soul Mairon had put into the Ring. It was a brilliant, daring, and utterly foolish decision on Mairon's part. He and it were entwined. There was no way it could be destroyed or unmade without unimaginable harm to his former apprentice.

Aulë could look at the Ring in its white-hot state and view the whole design. Certain functions could have been streamlined or combined to be more efficient, but that was normal for a first attempt.

Aulë re-drew a couple of features on his drawings of the Ring's design. He wanted to capture the most recent things he'd learned while they were still fresh in his mind.

This piece that Mairon made, even with its rough edges and pieces jammed in where they didn't fit, was a highly skilled piece of work. No, it was a masterpiece. It was a shame to destroy such a masterfully wrought piece of work, but that was the task set before him.

While he was working, Aulë had been focused on the mechanism of the design. He hadn't considered how destroying it would affect its maker. Mairon would lose much of his power, certainly. Enough to prevent him from taking physical form again. He'd hate that.

His former servant had committed terrible crimes. Aulë ground his teeth. His former favorite was getting off lightly. He hadn't stood trial, he hadn't gone to prison. After the Invasion, he'd been stripped of the ability to take on a fair form. Now he was about to lose the ability to take a physical form at all.

His former servant had free will and he'd made poor choices. These were the consequences. Aulë had no qualms about proceeding with the Unmaking.

There had been something like a trial following the Invasion, where Aulë learned that Mairon had been behind most of it.

Aulë had taken it hard. He tried not to think about what he'd done afterwards, but the memory kept slamming at him.

-o-o-o-

Some time later, Aulë stepped into the Vault and sealed the door behind him. The space smelled of chalk dust and cold ashes.

His workspace looked like it always looked when he was in the throes of an intense project. Piles of papers covered every flat surface. His desk had almost disappeared under open notebooks, lists, and sketches. The chalkboard had been filled, erased, and filled again.

After much effort, alone and in secret, he finally understood how his former student had made the Ring. He was more than a little impressed. The design was brilliant, original, daring, and intensely risky. He'd put himself in great danger to make it.

Once he understood how the Ring was made, he wrote a note informing Lord Manwë of his progress. However, he hadn't learned how to unmake it yet, so the note went unsent.

Aulë fashioned a crude model of the Ring's inner workings from wire and twine. He turned the model in his hands. The Ring would not come apart easily. There were ways to do it, but not ways to do it safely. After some time went by with no progress, he began to favor the volcano approach. But he kept at it, and when he had a sequence he liked, he wrote a short list of the steps he needed to take and pinned it to the wall.

Unmaking it would be mostly a matter of opening up the Ring and severing a critical ligature that connected two major components. The ligature should have been easy to reach, but unfortunately, connections stretched over unrelated components, and random bits were wedged in where they didn't quite fit.

Some time later, Aulë stepped into the Vault and sealed the door behind him. The space smelled of chalk dust and cold ashes.

His workspace looked like it always looked when he was in the throes of an intense project. Piles of papers covered every flat surface. His desk had almost disappeared under open notebooks, lists, and sketches. The chalkboard had been filled, erased, and filled again.

After much effort, alone and in secret, he finally understood how his former student had made the Ring. He was more than a little impressed. The design was brilliant, original, daring, and intensely risky. He’d put himself in great danger to make it.

Once he understood how the Ring was made, he wrote a note informing Lord Manwë of his progress. However, he hadn’t learned how to unmake it yet, so the note went unsent.

Aulë fashioned a crude model of the Ring’s inner workings from wire and twine. He turned the model in his hands. The Ring would not come apart easily. There were ways to do it, but not ways to do it safely. After some time went by with no progress, he began to favor the volcano approach. But he kept at it, and when he had a sequence he liked, he wrote a short list of the steps he needed to take and pinned it to the wall.

Unmaking it would be mostly a matter of opening up the Ring and severing a critical ligature that connected two major components. The ligature should have been easy to reach, but unfortunately, connections stretched over unrelated components, and random bits were wedged in where they didn’t quite fit.

-o-o-o-

Aulë had discovered the Ring's design, figured out how to unmake it, and forged the specialized tools needed for the Unmaking. He could proceed with the Unmaking at any time. There was no excuse not to update Lord Manwë on his progress.

He found a sheet of scrap paper, then chose his words carefully with respect for the great secrecy of the project.

     To Lord Manwë, Aulë the Smith sends greetings and hopes this finds you well. I wish to convey news of my success in the endeavor we discussed, and am proceeding to the next step as planned.

He read it over, satisfied it conveyed the message while still being discrete. He found a good sheet of parchment and wrote out a fair copy. As he waited for the ink to dry, he dug through a drawer to find his personal seal, a heraldic device of an anvil and hammer. He dripped red wax on the flap and stamped it. There. Signed and sealed, just one step shy of signed, sealed, and delivered.

The hour was late. That was enough for one night. He put the wax and seal back in the drawer, along with the letter.