My Heart Lies Where My Eyes Alight by wind rider

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3: A Reminder for Earlier Happiness

I need a beta reader to help me with this piece up to the last (the fifth) content-wise. Would someone please? I need to delf deeper into the story in each piece, but I cannot do so alone, given my limited knowledge of Tolkien's earlier ages.

 

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“Are you still mad at me?” Manwë asked needlessly. The sudden meeting of the Valar had gone roughly, as he had predicted. However, in his prediction, he had thought that his beloved spouse would back him up, not turn on him like this.

 

 Varda was standing with her back turned to him. She did not acknowledge him with any gestures. If she were actually a statue, he would not know, he thought sourly.

 

 “Father forbids us to take a direct hand on the unrest among all those factions of Elves,” he protested, irritated. “You know that. Why did you turn your back on me during the meeting?”

 

 The ‘statue’ moved. But Varda walked away instead of coming up to him.

 

 Manwë was more than vexed at this point. “Varda!” he snapped, employing his most commanding tone. “Turn around and look at me.” He feared what he would see in his spouse’s eyes or face, but he was too disappointed and angry to care about it before too late.

 

 Said spouse heeded not his demand, anyway.

 

 The Queen of Stars glided swiftly along the last corridor and turned to the left passage in the intersection between several hallways. Manwë, intent on melting the ice in her, failed to notice where they were going.

 

 He only did when it was too late.

 

 They were in a dead end. A tapestry decorated the wall denoting the end of the corridor, covering it from floor to ceiling. Crystal chandeliers the fruit of the Ñoldor’s workmanship lit it, revealing the sharp, vivid colours – as if it were a painted relief, not a tapestry. All Valar and Maiar were shown there, all in play in the newly-established Almaren.

 

 Looking at it and absorbing the view, anger dissipated from his soul.

 

 “We were more carefree back then, even with Melkor and his minions actively seeking our ruin,” Varda whispered, echoed unwittingly by Manwë. For a time, uncomfortable silence enveloped them as their eyes roamed the piece of Vairë’s work and drank in its details. Slowly, the peace and playfulness depicted in the picture worked their way into their tired hearts and minds and soothed them.

 

 “Look over there. Lúnwë was wrestling with his brothers in the mud puddle and Tulkas was throwing more mud at them,” Manwë whispered in a slightly-tremulous voice after a time, pointing at a spot in the tapestry.

 

 “They looked like they were newly-created by Father that way. Eönwë and Fiönwë are too deep in their duties lately and Lúnwë rarely goes out of his chamber anymore. Could we coax them to play again, do you think?” Varda murmured, her voice the soft tone of a concerned mother.

 

 “I do not know, beloved. We have other matters to attend to now… matters that are more pressing,” Manwë pointed out with great reluctance. And thus their wandering minds returned to the freshly-adjourned meeting.

 

 Varda sighed ruefully. “I apologise for my harsh words and my treatment of you, beloved,” she said with all sincerity. Her eyes, though, were fixed at the tapestry, at another spot of it.

 

 “Why did you oppose me so?” Manwë asked, this time purely curious… well, and a little disappointed.

 

 “You proposed to take no action, beloved.” Varda shrugged and shook her head. “Father forbids us to take a direct action against the unrest, but he does not forbid us to… tweak the situation here and there, I believe. Irmo was right in proposing to send peaceful dreams of the unity of all Elves to them.”

 

 “But in that way we would interfere with the Children’s free will,” Manwë protested, secretly dreading the chance that this mild discussion would turn out like the heated one in the meeting he had just escaped.

 

 “Would you listen now?”

 

 Varda’s question, spoken without rancor or admonishment, threw her spouse off.

 

 “Yes?” Manwë replied hesitantly, not knowing why Varda asked so.

 

 Divining his mind, Varda turned to face him fully and arched a sad smile. “Did you not notice that we, in our frustration, fear and ego, competed with each other for our opinions and propositions to be heard and agreed? We did not consult one another. Did anyone ask why you chose to take no action upon this new danger or why Irmo wished to plant happy dreams in the Children’s minds?”

 

 Manwë shuddered. His argument was lost before it could reach his lips. “That reminded me of the discord Melkor created when Father asked us to play that Theme…”

 

 “Indeed.”

 

 Varda’s serene admission made Manwë cringe.

 

 “Do you recognize this, beloved?” She pointed to the spot she had been contemplating before he could utter a word.

 

 The place she indicated in the picture was that of Ulmo, Estë, Nienna and Irmo grouped with the Maiar Ossë, Uinen, Tilion, Arien, and Olórin. Arien was standing a little outside the circle of the group , her hands on her hips, looking rather petulant and rueful. Ossë was curled in his perch in Ulmo’s arms like a scared youngling, while the other four Maiar were crowding around him with various expressions of hope, eagerness and sadness. Irmo, Estë and Nienna appeared to be talking and gesturing, yet neither Ulmo nor the five Maiar appeared to be listening to them.

 

 “It was not long after Ossë was nearly turned fully into Melkor’s slave,” Manwë supplied, his posture tensing. “If my fallen brother had had his way, that poor boy would have been a creature of flame and shadow now…”

 

 “What cost Ulmo and Ossë in the rescue?” Varda continued as if quizzing him further… which she might be doing in truth with a purpose of her own.

 

 “Ulmo cleansed and freed him at the same time, but he unwittingly did just what Melkor had intended to do; he enslaved Ossë.”

 

 “And what happened next?”

 

 Manwë grimaced. “The discord rivaled that of what we have just experienced, but back then our people were also involved in it.”

 

 “Now the scale is smaller, and yet you already despair of ever finding a solution for it?”

 

 “Your way of thinking is strange this time, my lady. Besides, I did not intend to say…”

 

 “That you did not know what to do both about your brothers and sisters and the Firstborn anymore?”

 

 Manwë refused to respond to that. He inched away from her and veered his gaze from the tapestry. Varda was as stubborn as ever, nevertheless, and he could not escape from her when her mind had been set like this.

 

 “We are going to find a way, beloved. There is yet time to ponder about everything. Let us stay before this tapestry for a while and recall happier times.”

 

 And they did just that. Slowly but surely, they retraced the details in the picture and let their minds wander back to the time depicted in the tapestry. Laughter filled their ears, accompanied by cool breeze scented with life and the light drizzle courtesy of Salmar and a few other Maiar under Ulmo. Mock shouts and half-hearted imprecations turned the edges of their lips upwards and put twinkles in their eyes…

 

 “Remind me to thank Vairë for this, beloved,” Manwë sighed with contentment.

 

 Varda chuckled, replying, “You have thanked her countless times before, my lord. I am afraid this time she would be irritated with you if you repeated it again.”