{editor's note: Súlimo, "Breath", is one of Manwë's titles.}
Shawn Daysleeper
Taniquetil. It is said to be the greatest mountain in the World. Its white stone climbs from the ethereal lamplit paths below, where walk the Vanyar. Higher, the paths become steep, sheering off into the dark recesses far below, overlooking the shadowy seas and lost isles that guarded the coast of the Blessed Lands. At it’s greatest height are the halls of Sulimo, the master of the element of air and the forces of wind that orders and brings chaos to the calm and storm. The timeless halls of the Holy Mountain are empty, save for the clamour of one soul: that of Manwe, Breath of Arda and Lord of the West.
Upon the departure of his dismissed herald, he sent away those around him. Long have many lives of mortals passed since Manwe felt this way. He expected Eonwe to arrive, deliver his report of Aule: such as the norm of ways in his halls. But not this day.
Now that he was alone, he did not conceal his mixed emotions. Anger and hurt. But more hurt and angry. He is shocked that Eonwe, a lesser Maia, displayed disrespect and smugness before the Aratar, the greatest beings of Arda save for Eru himself. Moreover, being caught off guard placed him in an uncomfortable situation. But his pride aside, his thoughts turned to Eonwe.
His respect, kindness, and strength smoothed over all council held in these halls. His solidarity and his desire to take the difficult tasks and complete the missives of the Valar impressed the Lord of the West. He was always willing to please, and never turned down a task. His loyalty was fierce: none dared approach Sulimo while Eonwe stood at his side. Manwe turned to his side, Eonwe’s place empty. He will be missed…
Shaking his head, he says, “I need to figure out what to do now.” Reflecting, he could not help but remember the words of his former herald: was he betrayed by the maker? “No,” Manwe said aloud with slight anger. The air became charged, and static rang forth from the walls. “Aule has reason enough to rid the world of potent dark magic, should it have been needed to be destroyed. He is protecting us, his knowledge of the Chambers complete.” But even as he spoke, his loss of Eonwe flared up in his heart.
He needed someone to confide in. To help unburden his heart. Closing his eyes, he summoned Ulmo, Lord of the Deep and the waters of the world. More than that, he is a dear brother. After finishing his summon, he looked up at the door, half expecting Eonwe to have returned. The doors remained closed. With a single tear, he whispers aloud, “Come to me, soon.”
Upon the departure of his dismissed herald, he sent away those around him. Long have many lives of mortals passed since Manwe felt this way. He expected Eonwe to arrive, deliver his report of Aule: such as the norm of ways in his halls. But not this day.
Now that he was alone, he did not conceal his mixed emotions. Anger and hurt. But more hurt and angry. He is shocked that Eonwe, a lesser Maia, displayed disrespect and smugness before the Aratar, the greatest beings of Arda save for Eru himself. Moreover, being caught off guard placed him in an uncomfortable situation. But his pride aside, his thoughts turned to Eonwe.
His respect, kindness, and strength smoothed over all council held in these halls. His solidarity and his desire to take the difficult tasks and complete the missives of the Valar impressed the Lord of the West. He was always willing to please, and never turned down a task. His loyalty was fierce: none dared approach Sulimo while Eonwe stood at his side. Manwe turned to his side, Eonwe’s place empty. He will be missed…
Shaking his head, he says, “I need to figure out what to do now.” Reflecting, he could not help but remember the words of his former herald: was he betrayed by the maker? “No,” Manwe said aloud with slight anger. The air became charged, and static rang forth from the walls. “Aule has reason enough to rid the world of potent dark magic, should it have been needed to be destroyed. He is protecting us, his knowledge of the Chambers complete.” But even as he spoke, his loss of Eonwe flared up in his heart.
He needed someone to confide in. To help unburden his heart. Closing his eyes, he summoned Ulmo, Lord of the Deep and the waters of the world. More than that, he is a dear brother. After finishing his summon, he looked up at the door, half expecting Eonwe to have returned. The doors remained closed. With a single tear, he whispers aloud, “Come to me, soon.”
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