The Wars of the Valar by Fiondil

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Chapter 46: Yána Elenion

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46: Yána Elenion

It was some time before either Námo or Vairë calmed down long enough to think themselves back to Amanaphelun where the celebration still continued. Their arrival was noted but not deemed important until their very stillness as they stood side-by-side and hand-in-hand began to impinge on everyone else’s awareness. Slowly the singing and dancing ceased as the other Ayanumuz stared at the couple. Before either could say a word, Oromë gave a whoop of joy.

"She said yes, didn’t she?" he cried to Námo, grinning from ear to ear.

Námo gave Vairë a quick, shy look then turned to the others and nodded. Immediately, there were glad cries of congratulations and Námo’s Máyar joined with Vairë’s in a paean of joy and thanksgiving.

"Will you espouse now?" Manwë asked.

Námo and Vairë exchanged glances and then as one turned to Manwë, shaking their heads. "The time is not yet," Námo said, "but soon."

Manwë nodded. "When you are ready, let us know."

With that the celebration rose to a new level and it was some time before it ended.

****

The construction of Ilmarin was finally completed except for a few minor details. It was the largest of all their works in Amanaphelun, for the People of Manwë and Varda were the most numerous of the Máyar who had followed the Ayanumuz to Eä. In later ages, the Firstborn would gaze upon Ilmarin with awe but to the Ayanumuz and Máyar it was merely a larger version of the mansion that sat in the plain to the southwest of the mountains.

Manwë was wandering through the halls alone sometime after the feast celebrating Varda’s new stars, his direction somewhat aimless as he thought on many things, not the least being the Coming of the Firstborn. He did not know when or even where that would happen, but he sensed it was soon as the Ayanumuz measured such things. His feelings were mixed about the approaching event. On the one hand, it had been the very thing for which they had all striven. He remembered how he had fallen in love with the Vision and all it held and how the desire to be here when the Children awoke had been the driving force of his decision to forsake the Timeless Halls for Eä.

On the other hand... he paused in his steps, his expression troubled. "I do not think I can be what you want me to be, Atar," he said aloud. "I fear I am not up to the task."

A gentle breeze wafted through the corridor, its alabaster walls gleaming with an inner light of their own. The breeze smelled oddly of the sea though he doubted that Ulmo was responsible. He felt a renewing of his spirit as he breathed in the fresh scent of brine, yet his doubts still remained. He had never told anyone, not even Varda, but in all the ages since coming into Eä he had felt a lack within himself. He did not understand it and it was some time before he came to realize that his sense of incompleteness lay in the estrangement between him and his brother Melkor. He sighed, remembering how the two of them had played together in their youth. He remembered their games and their laughter, but as they matured, Melkor had begun to drift away and Manwë had never fully understood why, believing that perhaps it was somehow his fault that his brother had turned against them all.

*Nay, My best beloved,* came Atar’s loving thought. *It was nothing thou didst. Thou art not to blame for thy brother’s choices.*

"I miss him," Manwë admitted. "I miss him and I love him. Why can he not return my love?"

He felt a gentle caress and it was as a balm to his fëa. *Thy brother can not love any but himself, and I fear in time he will not be able to do even that much.*

The sorrow of that thought was nearly overwhelming and Manwë felt tears welling. "I need him, Atar," he said forlornly. "He is my other half. Together we were strong, but I am not strong alone."

"Thou art stronger than thou thinkest, Child,* Atar said. *Come. I wish for thee to build me a room.*

Manwë blinked in confusion at the seemingly sudden change of subject. "Wh-what room, Atar? Ilmarin is completed. What other room doth it need?"

He felt the smile in Atar’s thoughts. *It needeth one more, a very special room that thou alone wilt bring into existence.*

"If that be thy will, Atar," Manwë said somewhat doubtfully. It never occurred to him to question the necessity of this mysterious room, though he wondered to himself why Atar had waited until now to mention it. If I have to move the conservatory one more time to fit this room of Atar’s in, he thought darkly to himself, I think I’ll scream.

A quiet chuckle in his mind alerted him to the fact that even his deepest thoughts were opened to Atar and he felt himself blush for no particular reason. "Sorry, Atar," he said. "Varda sometimes gets obsessive about rearranging things to suit herself."

*Thou dost not have to apologize, My son,* Atar said lovingly. *I know well the strengths and weaknesses of all My children.*

Manwë nodded, then sighed. "For what purpose will this room exist?"

*It will be a place of refuge for thee and thy brethren, where any who enter will find renewing of their fëa. It will also be the place where I may commune more directly with ye all. It may come to pass that even some of the Firstborn will have a need for this room, though it will be thy decision to allow it.*

"Can we not simply address thee directly, Atar?" Manwë asked in some confusion. After all, what need had he for a special room to speak to his Atar?

*As the ages of Atháraphelun wear on, thou mayest be glad for this sanctuary of mine,* Atar explained.

"Very well," Manwë said. "Where then should we put it?" He drew up in his mind the plan for Ilmarin, trying to see if any of the rooms already in existence might serve the purpose Atar had stated.

*No room already built will serve, Manwë,* Atar told him. *This room thou alone shalt create. It will have no existence in this dimension, but will reside elsewhere or even elsewhen when there is no need for it, the decision is thine alone.*

"It will still need a physical anchor in this dimension, though," Manwë pointed out, "else there will be no way to keep it here."

*True,* Atar agreed. "Which means thou must construct the anchor but not make it too obvious.*

Manwë thought about it as he continued roaming the halls. He happened to be facing the outer courtyard at one point in his wanderings and saw the statue of Varda. It was nearly completed save for one detail. He smiled as an idea occurred to him. Varda was the anchor of his life, the one thing that gave it meaning beyond himself. Why not use this statue of his beloved as the anchor for the sanctuary Atar wanted built? There was a certain symmetry to it all that pleased him. He watched as Ilmarë set in place the diamond that would float between the statue’s outstretched hands, representing a star, and decided that would do but he would have to alter its molecular structure slightly to turn it into an effective anchor.

Sending a thought to Ilmarë and the other Máyar who were working in the courtyard to leave, which they did with alacrity, he approached the statue and gazed on it for a long time. "It might work better if it were a black hole," he thought out loud.

*Better, but infinitely more dangerous,* came Atar’s amused reply. *I’m sure thou wilt figure it out.*

"Thou’rt a great help, Atar," Manwë said with a smile.

*I try,* Atar said laughingly and then Manwë felt him withdrawing to leave him to his own thoughts.

The mathematics of what he wanted to do was not difficult and in fact he realized that he had no need to call upon anyone else for help. The changing of the diamond into a miniature pulsar and creating the room to Atar’s specification (the dimensions and details of architecture were already firmly planted in his mind) were all within his powers to affect.

He closed his eyes to better concentrate and after taking a deep breath he began to Sing....

****

Námo found himself wandering through Amanaphelun. He had felt a sudden need to leave the city and go exploring. Choosing a direction at random he walked across fields and through forests until he came upon a range of low hills southwest of where Irmo and Estë had grown their Gardens of Repose. Somewhere northwest of these hills lay Nienna’s sanctuary, hard against the western ocean. Making his way through the hills he came upon a mist-shrouded valley where a stupendously high waterfall cascaded down into a pool. It was a breathtakingly beautiful sight and Námo suspected that Ulmo and Manwë had joined together in creating it.

*They’ve named it the Veil of Tears,* came Atar’s voice in his mind.

"It’s beautiful," Námo said sincerely. A soft caress ruffled his blue-black hair and Námo smiled in contentment.

*Come and walk with Me,* Atar said then.

"Where shall we go?" the Ayanuz asked in curiosity.

*Follow the stream,* came the answer and Námo did just that.

Soon he was walking out of the hills into a more open place that looked westward towards the ocean. It was rather barren looking but it was not empty. Nermir flitted amongst the wildflowers that dotted the landscape and some of the gentle four-footed animals that Yavanna had created and which ranged in herds grazed contentedly, unafraid of the intruder in their midst. They were mostly brown in coloring and their tails were tufts of white. Námo smiled at the idyllic scene as he strolled through the meadows. The nermir especially delighted him and he reminded himself to thank Yavanna for finally bringing them into existence. He noticed that they were all gathered in one area where a single fold of the earth obstructed his view.

*There,* came Atar’s voice, startling Námo, for he had forgotten that Atar was with him.

"There where?" Námo asked in confusion. Then he felt a nudge in his back and turned in surprise to see one of the creatures that had been grazing standing behind him. "Hello," he said, smiling. "Dost thou want something?"

The creature made no sound but butted its head against Námo’s chest, stepping forward at the same time so the Ayanuz was forced to step back. Námo’s eyebrows rose in surprise. "Honestly, Atar, you only had to tell me to move. There was no need to bring in reinforcements."

Atar’s laughter rang through the cosmos at his Child’s put upon expression. Námo patted the insistent creature who was still butting him. "All right, all right. I’m moving," Námo said to the creature. "Seest thou how I put one foot before the other? Now go back to thy fellows and leave me be."

The creature stood for a moment as if gauging the sincerity of this two-legged being and then with a flit of its tail it turned and gamboled back to the rest of the herd. Námo couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. He was still smiling as he made his way towards the nermir still flitting about. He found himself coming towards a gentle rise in the landscape, a swell of earth that could not properly be called a hill. Its lower end faced east with the higher parts moving westward towards the sea. The nermir were dancing about the lower edge.

"So what’s so special about this place?" he asked in confusion.

*This is where you shall build your Halls,* Atar replied. Námo shook his head, clearly not understanding what was being said. *This is where the Secondborn shall come when their time in Eä concludes,* Atar continued to explain, *and from here thou shalt send them to Me.*

"So what am I supposed to do?" Námo insisted. He could not quite understand what Atar wished of him though he was getting an inkling. He knew that the Secondborn would not reside in the World for all its ages, unlike the Firstborn. Escorting them beyond the Circles of the World would be a grave responsibility indeed, yet also a cause for great joy.

*Build thou a Hall,* came the less than illuminating answer, *and I will lead them to thee.*

"Any suggestions?" Námo asked somewhat sarcastically.

He felt Atar’s indulgent smile. *I am sure thou wilt think of something,* Atar said and then he was gone.

Námo sighed and then sat before the rise of earth in contemplation. He remembered his home in Almaren and wondered if that had been ‘practice’ for this. Finally he shrugged and stood, settling within his mind what he wanted to do and then he began to Sing....

****

When Manwë finished creating Atar’s room, as he thought of it, he called the other Ayanumuz to him. Last to arrive was Námo, looking unaccountably tired. They were standing about the statue of Varda, gazing at it with great interest.

"It was just supposed to be a diamond," Varda said, staring at the miniature pulsating star that now floated between the hands of the statue. "Nothing quite as ostentatious as this."

Manwë smiled and gathered his beloved in his arms, giving her a kiss. "I needed an anchor and the diamond wasn’t enough."

"An anchor for what?" Varda asked.

"Follow me," Manwë replied and he led the others into Ilmarin, up several staircases and down more than one hall until they came to a door made of mithril. It had no handle. At its center was etched an eight-pointed star inlaid with diamonds. A multi-faceted sapphire was embedded in the center of the star and water poured out of it into a basin shaped like a scallop-shell.

Manwë dipped his hand in the water and drank and each of the others did the same. Only when Námo, who was the last to taste the water, drank did the door silently open. They stepped inside a small vestibule in which was a sunken pool. A wooden screen carved with their likenesses separated the vestibule from what was clearly the main part of the room. The central panel had a carved Sun-in-glory made of beaten gold.

Manwë again led the way by stepping into the pool and immersing himself fully before stepping out again. The others followed and when Námo, who again was last, stepped out the central panel opened, allowing them entrance. The room was rather bare of any ornamentation. Only the floor was covered with a soft carpet.

"I was thinking perhaps one of Vairë’s tapestries could go here," Manwë said, pointing to the wall opposite the screen.

Vairë nodded, her eyes gleaming with delight at the challenge.

"So why exactly has this room been created?" Varda asked her spouse.

Manwë smiled with secret pleasure. "Look up," he said and they did.

Námo felt himself reeling at the sight. He could not understand the emotions that ran through him at that moment. He had only just finished creating his Hall when Manwë had summoned them. He had felt elated, if tired, by his efforts. He now had a purpose beyond being the harbinger of Doom. The Secondborn would be his charge and he was looking forward to tending to them and comforting them, for he had no doubt that they would be grieved at their leaving Atháraphelun. He hoped he would be able to reassure them that all would be well with them. It was an awesome responsibility and so he had taken great pains to make the Hall as beautiful as possible.

But now... He looked up at the immensity of the ceiling and the utter beauty of what Manwë had wrought and compared it to his own efforts and felt... shamed. He had been thinking of showing off his handiwork to the others but now knew he would never do so. It would be too embarrassing after this. He began backing up, a need to leave overwhelming him. None of the others seemed to notice, so enthralled were they by the ceiling.

*No, Child,* Atar said to him quietly yet firmly, stopping him in his tracks. *Thou hast no need to feel shamed at thine efforts.*

*But, Atar, it’s... I tried to make it as beautiful as possible but...* He shook his head not sure how to explain the sense of inadequacy he felt at that moment. He had no doubt that his brethren would be very polite and tell him he’d made a lovely go at it, but they would be comparing his efforts to Manwë’s and it would be obvious to everyone that Manwë was the better Singer.

*That may be true, Child,* Atar said, divining his last thought, *but not the whole truth. Thou didst create a wondrous place of rest and beauty and I am well pleased with it and with thee. What matters the opinions of others?*

But it did matter, it mattered greatly. He knew he was the least of the Ayanumuz, barely tolerated by the others. Were not the Máyar who cleaved to him fewer than those who took oath elsewhere? Were they not the weakest of them, accepting his lordship because no one else wanted them? He saw the looks of disbelief when he spoke of his visions, though they had all learned to accept them, however grudgingly. He always cringed a bit whenever he had to speak them, knowing that they would most likely be resented. He felt a soft caress across his brow, a balm to his fëa, but he still was not happy.

"Námo, why don’t you come and join us?"

He opened eyes that had been closed while communing with Atar to see Manwë standing next to him, a concerned look on his face. Námo could only stand there, shaking his head and started to back away but Manwë forestalled his flight by taking him into his embrace and holding him.

"What is it, brother?" he whispered. "What troubles thee?"

"I... I thought it was... beautiful until I saw what... what thou hast done," Námo stammered.

"Thought what was beautiful?" Manwë asked, keeping the younger Ayanuz in his embrace.

Námo, however, would not or could not answer. He did not try to leave Manwë’s embrace, but neither did he accept the comfort being offered. He was too heart-sore. Manwë sent a plea to Atar for understanding but got no help there. Apparently, whatever troubled Námo was to be dealt with without Atar’s assistance.

"Show me," he finally said. "I will judge if it is fair or not."

Námo shook his head. "You’ll be polite about it but...."

"Indeed?" Manwë interrupted, sounding amused and exasperated at the same time. "Well, would it help if I promise not to be polite? Now, enough stalling. Show me."

The last was obviously a command and Námo knew he could not disobey. Cringing slightly at having to show Manwë his feeble efforts he gave the Eldest the necessary coordinates and they were instantly away.

****

Yána Elenion: ‘The Chapel of Stars’.

Note: A full description of the Chapel of Stars can be found in Elf, Interrupted: Book Two: Glorfindel’s Quest, chapter 11.