Artíre is induced by Sauron to choose between serving the forces of light and the forces of darkness when he would rather be neutral.
Artíre the Watcher was an observer by nature. He was a Maia, and although he was a powerful entity, he was more suited to spying and reporting than to building or the domination of others. He loved the drama of conflict and destruction; it excited him like nothing else, stimulated him to the core of his being, but he was not a fool. He was aware of the likely consequences of rebellion against Ilúvatar and the Valar, so he preferred to watch the others from a distance rather than taking part. It was this trait that first brought him to the attention of Manwë, chief of the Valar.
After the trial of Angwë the builder, the brother of Sauron, who was suspected of rebellion for building his mountain, Celebdil, immediately after the fall of the Two Lamps, Artíre left Valinor and went to Middle-earth. Angwë remained behind, serving his master Aulë.
As Artíre surveyed the changes wrought on Middle Earth by the destruction of the Two Lamps that had been made to light the world ere the Sun and Moon were created, he remembered how he had first come into Manwë's service.
“When we go to Arda, and begin to shape it, will you take part in that?” asked Manwë.
“I will not take part in any of the labours,” Artíre asserted, “but I will observe them. I have no desire to create anything.”
“Artíre,” said the Vala, “I need someone to report to me the happenings on Arda. Will you do that?”
“I will indeed,” Artíre replied. “I will go to Arda with you, and roam to and fro, reporting to you and to those who ask of me.”
There was no light in Arda except for the fires that still burned near where the pillars that had held the Great Lamps had fallen, and the stars that shone faintly above it all. Artíre journeyed throughout the land, observing the changes wrought by the destruction of the Two Lamps, and by the efforts of the Ainur, including Angwë, to restrain the tumults of the earth. He drifted along, for he had taken no shape, though he could do so easily enough. In fact, it was very rare for the Watcher to ever assume a form of any kind. His consciousness moved easily and needed no vehicle.
The volcano Angwë had formed to stabilise the region so he could build his mountain was still pouring forth smoke and ash. Here and there, plants were growing. These plants were food for many of the animals that had survived, though the monsters of Melkor had begun to reach these parts, and were attacking them when they could. Artíre observed this, and noted that, while the devastation was extensive and had completely altered the world he had known, it had not destroyed Arda.
Fascinated, he looked closely at the creatures that dwelt there, and watched as they struggled to survive in a land that was scorched and dark, and teeming with predators. The Elves were yet to come. There was no doubt in the Maia's mind that Melkor would take them and warp them to suit his own desires, and he was intrigued by the thought of the rebel's plans for them. A blast from Angwë's volcano rent the air, and reminded him of his conversation with Manwë in the Halls of Time.
“You speak of beauty in the vision of Melkor,” Manwë pointed out.
“Indeed,” said Artíre, “because it is true.”
There was indeed beauty here, of a sort. Sparks from the volcano flew high into the air, and the colours of the flames and flares from the lava were bright and exciting. As he looked around, Artíre could see that the plants and flowers that survived the initial destruction still clung to life, and even seemed to thrive, after a fashion. Moving further away, he saw the Wild Wood near the Sea of Helcar, which had been created by the fall of the pillar Illuin, and went to explore it.
***
Sauron was there, in his werewolf hame, seeking for signs of the Elves who were soon to be Awakened.
“Hail, Artíre,” he said to the Watcher as he approached him. “What news?”
“Hail, Sauron,” Artíre replied.
Sauron could change his shape at will and though the form he was currently wearing was new to Artíre, the Watcher still recognised him.
“There are growing things that still thrive near the site of the fallen pillar Illuin, which once bore the Lamp. Melkor's monsters are moving further south now that there is little light to disturb them. Your brother Angwë was called to account by Manwë for the building of his mountain, Celebdil, but was pardoned when they saw he had not joined with Melkor, as you did. He has gone back to working for his master Aulë, and has been warned not to love his mountain overmuch, for his heart would become corrupted by his desire to keep it for himself. Therefore, he remains with his lord so that he will not be tempted,” the Watcher reported.
Furred lips pulled back from Sauron's long yellow fangs as he snarled, “My brother remains in Valinor, and will not seek his own pleasure? The Valar demand that he follow the path they lay before his feet, and will not suffer him to build but a rock of his own to take pride in, else he will find himself numbered with the rebels? This is intolerable! Yet Angwë accepts this, and will not complain? Has he no will of his own? Or is that also not permitted?”
Artíre understood Sauron's anger, for there had been times when he had felt it himself. He was reminded of Sauron's comment, “Artíre, your servant, has come to make his report,” when he had gone to Utumno to report to Melkor on Angwë's actions. He decided to prod Sauron.
“The Valar believed Angwë because he brought back a budding leaf that had not withered in his hand, as it would in yours. I am permitted to roam wherever I wish, to observe, and to report to whoever asks me to,” he said. “That is my will, and it has not been challenged. I will not take anyone as my lord, nor will I be a servant of any sort.”
“But if I gave you an opportunity to take part in a scheme of ours that would make a spectacle for you to observe, would that please you?” asked Sauron.
“I would certainly consider it,” Artíre replied.
“When the Children have awakened, I want you to whisper to them against Oromë, who has come to Middle Earth to hunt my master's monsters and destroy them. Tell them to shun him, if they should see him, for the Hunter will surely catch them and take them away to devour them,” Sauron instructed.
“That I will do,” said Artíre. It was such a small thing, a little thing, to speak of the Hunter thus if he but used his title, not his name, and merely stretched the truth.
He left then, to seek the Elves who were soon to be Awakened, and when he eventually found them, he carried out Sauron's instructions. It was actually the first time he had lied, and it felt strange to him. Withholding information was a thing he had done many times, but actually speaking words that he knew to be untrue was a completely new experience. He did it mostly because he wanted to see what would happen if the Elves were told things about a Vala that would cause them to fear him. The idea that he could influence events like this intrigued him, and he was not averse to assisting in the making of history, as long as he could be free to observe it without being caught up in it.
***
Moving through the Wild Woods, Artíre found nothing which indicated that the Elves had yet awoken, but as he went back to the shores of Helcar, he arrived at an inlet that was later known as Cuiviénen. Something was stirring there. He moved closer. A group of small figures was walking along the shores of the sea, stopping every now and then to comment on the things they saw. Since he was invisible, not having taken form, Artíre could approach them without disturbing them.
They were fair to his eyes. New, and interesting. He followed them for a while, moving among them, and they had no inkling that a stranger was there watching them. The group began to break up as the Elves explored the wood, the shore and the mountains. Sometimes, some would leave and never come back, while others would go away for a while and then return. They would ask each other, when someone had been missing for a while, where the missing person was. Artíre would supply the answer, whispering into someone's ear, “The Hunter has come, riding on a great beast, and has taken them away to devour them.”
Artíre spent some years with the Elves, observing them and seeing how they grouped together, sharing information and finding ways to protect themselves from the menace of the monsters and other evil things that sought to destroy them. He occasionally whispered messages of fear to them about the Great Hunter, but was usually ambiguous because he did not want to simply give these new beings to Melkor and Sauron as their playthings. While he knew that both Melkor and Sauron were ranging through the woods seeking prey, he did nothing to either help or to hinder their efforts, except to tell the Elves about the Great Hunter, and to fear him. Besides, he wanted to know how Oromë would react when he saw that the Elves were afraid of him.
***
Eventually, Oromë came to Middle Earth, and arrived at Cuiviénen. When the Elves saw him for the first time, riding on his horse Nahar, many of them fled for their lives, crying, “Flee! Flee! The Hunter has come to devour us!”
Artíre saw that some of the Elves were not afraid, and befriended Oromë. He hid from the Hunter because he realized that Oromë might become suspicious of the fact that there was such a story about him and wonder about its source. “If the Hunter should come to the correct conclusion about where the stories have come from, I will be put on trial for rebellion,” he thought. 'Sauron has tricked me! I will take revenge on him as soon as I have thought of a plan.'
Creeping as close as he dared, the Watcher listened to the conversations between Oromë and the Elves. Eventually, he learned that the Hunter was going to go back to Valinor to tell the Valar what he had seen and heard, and to persuade them to come to Middle-earth to deal with Melkor once and for all. When Oromë set off, Artíre hastened to catch up with him.
“Hail, Lord Oromë!”he declared.
Oromë pulled Nahar to a halt. “Hail, Artíre!” he replied. “What news?”
The Watcher approached reverently, showing due respect for the Vala, though he greatly feared him now. “My lord, Sauron and Melkor have been spreading an evil report among the Elves about you, telling them a Great Hunter seeks to do them harm. They themselves have been capturing the Elves and carrying them off to some foul end. What can we do to help them?”
“I am on my way to Valinor to tell the Valar what I have seen and heard. Stay here and keep watch for me, Artíre, and be ready to report to me when I return. Follow Sauron and Melkor if you can, and tell me where their hiding places are,” Oromë ordered him, then spurred Nahar to gallop all the way to Valinor.
***
Artíre smiled. He already knew where the hiding places of Sauron and of Melkor were. He had only to wait for the onslaught that would surely come. The Watcher went straight to Utumno, and on his way there he espied Sauron, still in werewolf shape, carrying the limp form of a subdued Elf in his jaws. “Sauron! Sauron!” he cried, trying to sound desperately afraid.
The Elf fell to the forest floor. “What is it?” Sauron asked him, keeping one paw on the Elf.
“The Valar are coming! Oromë has gone to summon them hither. Prepare yourself! Where is Lord Melkor, that I may warn him too?”
Sauron dropped the Elf, (who quickly recovered his wits and fled) and led Artíre straight to Melkor.
***
In the depths of Utumno, Melkor received Artíre in his audience chamber. “Hail, Artíre, what news?”
“My lord,” replied Artíre, “Oromë the Hunter hath come to Middle-earth. He hath seen the Elves at Cuiviénen, and heard of their plight. He hath returned to Valinor to persuade the Valar to make war upon thee. Prepare thyself, for they are wroth with thee for the destruction of the Two Lamps also.”
“Ever do they seek to impede me!” shouted Melkor. “I thank thee, Artíre. Go now to Cuiviénen, and watch for signs of Oromë and the Valar. When they come, tell me.”
Artíre bowed and left without another word.
He made his way back to Cuiviénen, as he had been bidden by those on both sides of the coming conflict. What could he do? He had no desire to take sides, and now he found he was being drawn into a situation where he would have to choose one or another. The Watcher knew he would have to step very carefully, whatever happened.
***
When he arrived at Cuiviénen, Artíre found that Oromë had already returned, and was attempting to persuade the Elves to come to Valinor with him. Carefully considering what to say, the Watcher made his way towards the Vala.
“Hail, Artíre, what news?”
“My lord,” he replied, “Melkor is preparing for war against you at his stronghold in the far North. His spies have told him that the Valar are coming.”
“Go back there,” said the Hunter, “and keep watch.”
Artíre bowed and left at once, relieved that Oromë had not asked more questions. Though he had but stretched the truth a little, Artíre found that the things he had said were creating unwanted consequences, and now he was having to lie outright to avoid getting into trouble with either side. What had begun as an exercise in creating drama for its own sake was turning into a war, and if either side ever found out what he had done for the other, he was sure to be punished.
***
As Artíre made his way north, he saw the approach of the Valar, arrayed for war. Surely they would expect him to report to them, and he was perilously close to Utumno. What could he do?
The foothills of the Iron Mountains were teeming with evil beings, for Melkor had many spies, and the Watcher was aware that if he remained there, he would be forced to take sides. He decided to flee.
On his way southwards, he was accosted by a group of Maiar under Tulkas the Wrestler.
“Hail, Artíre!” Tulkas boomed. “What news?”
Artíre froze, aware of the creatures and evil spirits of various kinds that lurked among the rocks and crevices of this place. He hoped the Wrestler would not ask too much of him.
“Where is the hiding place of that traitor Melkor?”
Artíre was terrified. Of all the Valar, Tulkas was the most utterly fearsome. Lying to him was not an option, but betraying Melkor might lead to unwanted consequences. He needed a diversion. A shout in the distance provided a distraction, and as a host of monsters made a sortie from the fortress, the Watcher allowed himself to be swept up in the battle.
“Artíre!” Tulkas shouted. “The enemy has captured him. See! Over there, in that crevice! Go and get him back!”
Artíre groaned as he heard the muffled sounds of Tulkas ordering his troops to rescue him. The last thing he wanted was to be claimed by either side. The Watcher made his way deeper inside the crevice, which led into a rough tunnel. The way ahead was blocked, so he began to clear the piles of debris, the better to make his way through the tunnel, and filled it up behind him to hinder those who followed him. The Watcher could hear someone scrabbling through the slag.
“Artíre,” shouted Tulkas, “we are coming!”
The Watcher scurried deeper inside until he came upon a door set into the rock. It opened, he was admitted, and the door was shut again.
A pair of Balrogs loomed, dark and dragging darkness with them. “Hail, Artíre,” one of them said, “what news?”
“Tulkas is on his way here,” gasped Artíre. “Take me to Melkor!”
As he went deeper into the fortress, he could see a multitude of orcs and monsters of various kinds rushing about, carrying weapons.
***
Melkor was with Sauron at a stone table in a large chamber, deep under the main fortress. It was hidden behind a door that had been cunningly wrought to look like a part of the wall of the tunnel that led to it. Artíre went in, trembling.
“Hail, Artíre, what news?” asked Melkor.
Artíre looked at Melkor like a fieldmouse at a stoat. “Tulkas approacheth, my lord,” he quavered. “He is here inside the fortress.”
“Sauron,” Melkor instructed, “go thou and distract him.” The rebel turned and fled. “Artíre, go with him, for I do not wish for any of the Valar to find thee here, nor to learn all that thou knowest about me.”
Artíre turned and fled.
He followed Sauron through a series of tunnels that had been delved into the heart of the mountains.
“Come quickly, Artíre,” Sauron said, “surely the Wrestler has discovered that you are welcome here. If he does not know this yet, he will soon.”
Fear drove the Watcher on. He had to get away from there. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“I know of a place we can hide in,” replied Sauron.
***
Many miles away, far from where the battle for Middle-earth raged, was a fortress. At its heart was a volcano which spewed forth fire and molten rock. Artíre could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. “This place is much like Utumno,” he remarked.
“It is a place I have spent much time building,” replied Sauron. “My stronghold is deep underground, and very well guarded. I have ordered my people to hide themselves and let no-one discover their existence until the Valar have left Middle-earth. Come with me and hide here.”
“You deceived me, Sauron, and I will hide elsewhere,” Artíre replied bitterly. “From the first you have worked towards this end.”
Sauron turned around to face the Watcher, a look of utter contempt on his face. “Did you not say you would take part in a scheme of ours that would make a spectacle for you to observe?”
“Yes I did,” replied Artíre as he turned away. “If I had known it would end like this, I never would have told you.”
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