Book of Hours by heget

The Kindly Man

Manwë

The kindly-faced man sits on a corner of the streets in Valmar, appearing to do nothing at all except bask in the warm golden light and listen to the clarion bells. Sometimes pigeons bob at his feet, or a wandering cat or dog curls their heads on his lap. His eyes are a brilliant blue, when they are not lidded in the peaceful countenance of a man who delights in a warm day and the pleasing tones of the city’s many bells.

"You are one of the Maiar," says a pedestrian with tightly coiled golden hair, standing just so their shadow does not block the light upon the bald man with stunningly clear blue eyes. "I can feel the difference in the souls, between Eldar and Ainur. I apologize that I do not recognize you, though I believe you must be one of the minor servants, for you do not blaze in my senses like many I have met. Is there something you need? You appear tired."

The man sitting on the corner of the street smiles. “A little weary, perhaps. The war has been long, my task longer. But the sound of the bells helps to soothe, and the warm air rising up from the stones, and the kind offers from strangers.” He laughs, the creases around his brilliant blue eyes folding up to cover their brightness, the sound of his laugh as pure and light as the smallest chimes. “Air has a great weight. You don’t feel it, as it is always pressing in from every direction. You don’t see how much it weighs.”