In the Presence of Manwë - Part 2

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Ilianor Illios, Shawn Daysleeper and AelKennyr Rhiano

All the songs were role-played

Music, piercing through to the heart and soul in its purity of tone, the gentle, clear voice of the Maia of the North Wind floating upon the very Winds of the Undying Lands, came to the ears of the Herald of the Most High Lord of the West, Eonwe.  He pauses outside of the hall, allowing the music to flow over and through him, resonating deepng within him, wherein lies the very Song of Creation.  He can hear the soft, voice of Ainiome, speaking  to the Lord of the West, and his calm, reassuring voice rising in falling in cadence as he answers.  Eonwe bows his head, the music, the voices lulling, comforting.  Then he raises his head, his face inscruptable as ever, and prepares to stride inside at his Lord's bidding.

Ainome feels the presenece of the Banner-Bearer, before he even enters.  "Someone is coming, my Lord. Your herald, my Lord, is here."

Manwe: looks up at the doorway, looking ever westwards. He sees a form blocking the light of the stars beyond. "Eonwe, my herald, do come before me."

His boots rap sharply against the marble floor, and he aprroaches the throne of Manwe with careful respect, pausing as he enters the presence of the Lord of the West to sink into a respectful kneel.  "I am here, Lord of the West, as my Lord has desired."

"Rise, Eonwe. I am grateful you come before me."

Slowly, the Banner Bearer of the Breath of Arda rises and bows his head in respectful salute.

"I can play, my Lord Manwe?" asks the Maiar of the North Wind.

Manwe  gestures to a seat close by. "Please, sit beside us Eonwe.  Ainome's music is most soothing."

 

Aionwe looks at Eonwe, and she sends him a smile as she bows her head and starts to play. "Mae govannen, my Lord."

 Eonwe bows his head in return, and gives to the Maia of the North Wind a rare smile, the warmth reaching his eyes before he once more becomes the Herald, ever reflective only of his Lord Manwe's words and instructions.  "Hail, fair Ainome, Maia of the North, and creator of the most beautiful of music.  I have heard the Children's imitation of thy harp, and am glad to see I may hear the inspiration you give first hand."  He moves to take a bench as Manwe directs, his back straight, and his body  relaxed but waiting. 

"Thank you, my Lord. Tis the voice of the creation that is born in me. I will try to help all in Arda to enjoy the Ainulindale, and my Lord Manwe everyday inspires me with his actions."

Eonwe casts a look over at the Lord of the West and bowing his head once, answered the Maia.  "You speak the truth, Ainome. It is through the actions of the Lord of the West, the Song is made clearer, and we are thus directed into a better understanding of Eru's Will."

Ainome begins to sing "The Lament for the Evenstar (and the little star). "Ne minuial tôl lû (At starfade a time comes)/

 Ir in-elenath gwennin (When you see one brilliant star left behind) ...."

Manwe closes his eyes as the music relaxes him. "The mucic of the Children is part of Eru's Will. Ainome's ability to bring their music here has led my thought to their concern. and to the evil that befell one of their lords."

"Ir in-elenath gwennin," sings the maiar. "I 'îl thinna, i amar ú-dhartha...."

Eonwe turns his sharp eyes to the face of the Lord of the West. "You speak of the King of the Teleri, my lord?" he asks, his husky voice soft.

Manwe nods. He sits still a moment in thought before speaking. "The missive, yes, Eonwe. I trust Lord Aule received my missive without delay?"

Eonwe bows his head and nods. "Yes, my lord.  I dispatched the swiftest of your eagles and conveyed in the message the words you gave unto me.  I have not had a reply from the mighty Lord as yet, my Lord."

As they converse, the gentle Maiar continues to sing in one of the tongues of the elves:

"Ne minuial tôl lû
Ir tirich er-'îl gelair awarthannen
Ir in-elenath gwennin.
I 'îl thinna, i amar ú-dhartha."

 Manwe: smiles as he listens to Ainome's elvish song.

"Am man darthon a linnon
Nu galad hen fireb?
Eirien vi elenyr
Enni e bain.
Brethil nui mellyrn
Enni e bain.
Gwilwileth or alph
Enni e bain.
Tinnu aphada Chelluin
Enni e bain

I laiss e-mallorn ernediaid.
El-lass dithen, el-lass fíreb
Gâr chinnen. Ir dannatha?

I-'îl gelair fîr.
Si e gwanna Menel.
Si gwannathon i amar
Garel lass vi cammen."

Eonwe slowly lifts his head and turns it slightly to watch the deft fingers of the North Wind as they play upon the strings of the harp, the music rising as sweet incense and floating through out the room. He recognizes the lines of the song.

"At starfade a time comes
When you see one brilliant star left behind
When the starry host has departed.
The star fades, the world does not wait.
 Why do I linger and sing
Under this fading/mortal light?

There is a daisy among the elanor blossoms
To me it is fair.
There is a birch tree under the mallorn trees
To me it is fair.
There is a butterfly above the swan
To me it is fair.
A spark/small star follows Sirius
To me it is fair

The leaves of the mallorn are numberless
One tiny leaf, one fading leaf
Holds my eyes. When will it fall?

The brilliant star is fading
Now it departs the heavens
Now I will depart the world
Holding a leaf in my hand."

"Do you want listen to other songs,  my lords?" she asks in her clear, perfect voice.

The words echo in his timeless halls. The songs of late have been those from the Children of Arda, coming from far lands. Those singers, whose eyes have never glimpsed the snows of Taniquetil or the vast halls of the Lord of the West. His thoughts stray further abroad, far beyond the bliss of the Blessed Lands. "Please sing more for me Ainome."

"I am glad to sing for your noble heart, my Lord," she answers. "I sing a song for Valinor, I-'wathrad Balannor..   The Darkening of Valinor."

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