Rajani Milton
For many long ages, Ilmarë the handmaiden of Varda Elentári had walked among the stars, drifting from place to place in the heavens, tweaking an atomic reaction here, nudging a gravitational constant there, stirring a nebula over yonder. When Varda Tintallë had set the stars in place, Ilmarë had watched and learned from her, and now she knew where each star dwelt and how it should burn.
The Elves prayed to the Lady Varda, and Varda the far-sighted cared for them and sent them aid. Ilmarë, in contrast, found the Children of Ilúvatar strange. Lovely and interesting, but difficult to understand. So she spent most of her time among the stars, which followed the laws of nature and obeyed her songs and her touch. Each star had its own music, and she spun and danced with the starlight all across the heavens.
Ever since the Great Change, when the world of Elves and Men had been made round and the Straight Road became the only path to Valinor, things among the stars had changed subtly. Of late, Ilmarë had found herself drawn more and more to details and to things near home. She paid special attention these days to her cousin Arien's sun-ship and to Arda's near companions in the heavens. She visited Lord Tilion and his Moon. And wherever she wandered, Arda and the halls of Lord Manwë and Lady Varda upon Taniquetil were always home.
It is on a day when she is tending to Alcarinquë, that greatest of Arda's companions, when she first feels a twinge of uncharacteristic worry. At first she thinks it is the wandering star she is working with--the continual giant red storm on its surface is more violent than usual today--but no, it is something else. When Alcarinquë's great red spot has calmed itself, Ilmarë floats away and tries to pinpoint the source of her anxiety. Something is missing from the harmony of the heavens.
She listens for each of the great stars, and they are all in tune. She sends her thought towards Arien of the Sun, and feels no wrong. Cousin Tilion is there, though his thought is muted, more melancholy than usual. Ilmarë drifts to the edge of the solar system and begins to count inward: Luinil, Nenar, Lumbar, Alcarinquë, Carnil, Arda, Elemmírë. Neptune, Uranus, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Arda, Mercury. But wait. There should be--where is Earendil? Where is the ship bearing the last Silmaril?
Ilmarë counts again, and again comes up short. She listens to the tune of the solar system, and indeed--there is a note missing. Long ago, when the Silmaril was bound upon the brow of a Child of Ilúvatar and set in the heavens, Ilmarë had found Earendil's voice discordant. It was so different from the other stars. Its notes were sharper, filled with an intelligence lacking in the other stars. It sang of peril and loss and a distant fierce hope. She hadn't known what to do with this disruption in her star-tending routine. But the Lady Varda had bid her listen to the whole song now that Earendil's voice was added, and Ilmarë had had to agree that it was improved by his notes.
But now--nothing. Ilmarë flies quickly from one side of Earendil's accustomed orbit to the other, listening and looking. She asks the aethers for news of him, and hears nothing but emptiness. It is as if he were but a memory of ages long past, and not a vital part of this region of the heavens as recently as a few weeks ago. When had he gone? Where had he gone? What is wrong?
Her heart sinking, Ilmarë leaves off her search and makes for home. Quickly she drops into Arda's orbit, then falls through the skies, aiming for her Lady's home in Valimar. Any who chance to look up would see her as a bright streak against the sunny sky. As she flies, Ilmarë begins to panic. She's never lost a star before! And Earendil was special! What will Lady Varda say?!
"She'll know what to do!" Ilmarë pants. "How could I have lost him?" As she falls, she forms a shape fitting to walk among Elves and the Ainur who take their form. Soon she is no longer a shapeless force or a glowing spark. Arms, legs, hair, skin...oh yes, and clothes? Don't Elves wear a layer of something over their skin? Lady Varda usually did when she was talking to the Vanyar, but it's been so long since Ilmarë has done that. She manifests a length of blue cloth and tells it to wrap around her in something resembling Elven decency. She tries to shake most of the star-dust out of her hair, but it is hard to stop glowing.
With a thump, she lands on a wide green lawn before a bright white tower. She looks around for a moment and blinks in confusion. This isn't Taniquetil! It isn't even Valimar. Has she come too far? Has--she starts to panic again--has Arda reshaped THAT much since she was last here? But no, she would know if Lady Varda's home no longer existed. She looks around her and sees a wide harbour with great white ships in the form of swans. Swans--the Teleri. Teleri had always been friends, long ago when she walked in Arda last. Perhaps there is a reason she has been drawn here this time. But what could they have to tell her about Earendil?
A noise overhead makes her look up. Something else is falling too! A bird--no--a woman! A bird changing into a woman, and that doesn't usually happen, does it? Ilmarë isn't sure, but she doesn't remember flying Elves. The bird--the woman--cries out, then tumbles onto a balcony and lies still. Ilmarë breaks into a run.
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The Elves prayed to the Lady Varda, and Varda the far-sighted cared for them and sent them aid. Ilmarë, in contrast, found the Children of Ilúvatar strange. Lovely and interesting, but difficult to understand. So she spent most of her time among the stars, which followed the laws of nature and obeyed her songs and her touch. Each star had its own music, and she spun and danced with the starlight all across the heavens.
Ever since the Great Change, when the world of Elves and Men had been made round and the Straight Road became the only path to Valinor, things among the stars had changed subtly. Of late, Ilmarë had found herself drawn more and more to details and to things near home. She paid special attention these days to her cousin Arien's sun-ship and to Arda's near companions in the heavens. She visited Lord Tilion and his Moon. And wherever she wandered, Arda and the halls of Lord Manwë and Lady Varda upon Taniquetil were always home.
It is on a day when she is tending to Alcarinquë, that greatest of Arda's companions, when she first feels a twinge of uncharacteristic worry. At first she thinks it is the wandering star she is working with--the continual giant red storm on its surface is more violent than usual today--but no, it is something else. When Alcarinquë's great red spot has calmed itself, Ilmarë floats away and tries to pinpoint the source of her anxiety. Something is missing from the harmony of the heavens.
She listens for each of the great stars, and they are all in tune. She sends her thought towards Arien of the Sun, and feels no wrong. Cousin Tilion is there, though his thought is muted, more melancholy than usual. Ilmarë drifts to the edge of the solar system and begins to count inward: Luinil, Nenar, Lumbar, Alcarinquë, Carnil, Arda, Elemmírë. Neptune, Uranus, Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Arda, Mercury. But wait. There should be--where is Earendil? Where is the ship bearing the last Silmaril?
Ilmarë counts again, and again comes up short. She listens to the tune of the solar system, and indeed--there is a note missing. Long ago, when the Silmaril was bound upon the brow of a Child of Ilúvatar and set in the heavens, Ilmarë had found Earendil's voice discordant. It was so different from the other stars. Its notes were sharper, filled with an intelligence lacking in the other stars. It sang of peril and loss and a distant fierce hope. She hadn't known what to do with this disruption in her star-tending routine. But the Lady Varda had bid her listen to the whole song now that Earendil's voice was added, and Ilmarë had had to agree that it was improved by his notes.
But now--nothing. Ilmarë flies quickly from one side of Earendil's accustomed orbit to the other, listening and looking. She asks the aethers for news of him, and hears nothing but emptiness. It is as if he were but a memory of ages long past, and not a vital part of this region of the heavens as recently as a few weeks ago. When had he gone? Where had he gone? What is wrong?
Her heart sinking, Ilmarë leaves off her search and makes for home. Quickly she drops into Arda's orbit, then falls through the skies, aiming for her Lady's home in Valimar. Any who chance to look up would see her as a bright streak against the sunny sky. As she flies, Ilmarë begins to panic. She's never lost a star before! And Earendil was special! What will Lady Varda say?!
"She'll know what to do!" Ilmarë pants. "How could I have lost him?" As she falls, she forms a shape fitting to walk among Elves and the Ainur who take their form. Soon she is no longer a shapeless force or a glowing spark. Arms, legs, hair, skin...oh yes, and clothes? Don't Elves wear a layer of something over their skin? Lady Varda usually did when she was talking to the Vanyar, but it's been so long since Ilmarë has done that. She manifests a length of blue cloth and tells it to wrap around her in something resembling Elven decency. She tries to shake most of the star-dust out of her hair, but it is hard to stop glowing. With a thump, she lands on a wide green lawn before a bright white tower. She looks around for a moment and blinks in confusion. This isn't Taniquetil! It isn't even Valimar. Has she come too far? Has--she starts to panic again--has Arda reshaped THAT much since she was last here? But no, she would know if Lady Varda's home no longer existed. She looks around her and sees a wide harbour with great white ships in the form of swans. Swans--the Teleri. Teleri had always been friends, long ago when she walked in Arda last. Perhaps there is a reason she has been drawn here this time. But what could they have to tell her about Earendil?
A noise overhead makes her look up. Something else is falling too! A bird--no--a woman! A bird changing into a woman, and that doesn't usually happen, does it? Ilmarë isn't sure, but she doesn't remember flying Elves. The bird--the woman--cries out, then tumbles onto a balcony and lies still. Ilmarë breaks into a run.
> Next