Rajani Milton
Step after step up the long flight of stairs to Varda's private halls Ilmarë walks, the beauty of Ilmarin and the stunning view down the mountainside unfolding around her. But she has eyes for little of the scenery. As an Ainu she needn't walk this whole way, of course, but Ilmarë wants to think, to compose herself before she reports to the Lady Varda.
Earendil is missing! Earendil, whose light is as symbolic as it is physical, Earendil the son of Eldar and Humans and Maiar, who rises bearing the Silmaril and reminds everyone that evil can be defeated and hope can come out of disaster.
Is gone.
And no one knows where, and Ilmarë didn't notice until long after he disappeared! What will the Lady say?
At last Ilmarë reaches the top of the stairs, coming out onto a wide portico. It is late evening, the sky a deepening blue with stars just beginning to prick through. Ilmarë can feel each of them, though in this Elf-formed body she can't see most of them. It was often at this time of day that Varda used to call Ilmarë to her, long ago. Ilmarë looks about for other Maiar of Varda, but all is quiet. There is a low balcony around the edge of the platform, and Ilmarë goes to lean on it, looking down the slopes of Taniquetil through the evening mists to the small twinkling lights of Vanyar settlements far below. It is a view she once knew very well.
"Ilmarë." The Lady's bright voice pulls her from her reverie. Varda's voice is gentle and strong, beautiful like everything else about her. At the sound, Ilmarë turns, and can't help the instinct to bow in respect. It's not for nothing that she is known as Varda's handmaiden: from the earliest days of her memory, she has been drawn to this being of light like a magnet to true North. It doesn't matter that it is centuries since she has stood in this place: here, with her Lady, she is truly home.
"My lady," Ilmarë murmurs, dropping to one knee in the bow of a messenger returning from errantry.
She feels a gentle hand on her shoulder, and Varda beckons her to her feet. "My dear Ilmarë. It is good to see you. Come, let us walk a while and speak of what you have seen."
Ilmarë wants to leap immediately to the thing that has been worrying her for the last several days--Earendil -- but she follows the Lady and dutifully answers her questions about all the other work she has been doing. As she is describing the eccentric orbit of a small object at the far edge of the solar system, not quite an asteroid but not large enough to be a proper companion of Arda, the Lady stops her with a gentle hand on her arm.
"You are troubled, Ilmarë. Speak."
"Oh, Lady." Ilmarë sighs deeply and looks at the floor. "Lady, we have--I have--I've lost the Morning Star. Lady, I do not know what has become of him! He was there and now he is not, and when I went among the Teleri I found that they have known he was gone for some time. They are in distress, especially his wife Elwing, who thinks of him always. Lady, do you know where he has gone? How could I have missed the departure of Vingilot?"
Varda looks sober, as she has all evening. "I do not doubt that Elwing missed Earendil first, and the Elves after her. Were I to be parted from the King of the Airs, I should know it before anyone." She looks out over the balcony at the stars, which fill most of the sky now. "But were you not telling me that you were working far from Arien in the cold reaches between stars, Ilmarë? That is far from the Morning Star's accustomed path."
"Aye, my Lady. I thought I felt something amiss, but I thought it was Alcarinquë. You know how he is--temperamental at times. That great red storm..."
"And did you not come for help when you found Earendil missing?"
"Yes, my Lady. But Lady, if he has been taken, if it is--"
"The Dark Lord? It may be." Varda pauses. The wind plays through her dark hair and starlight twinkles from the gems on her brow. The world is quiet, as if waiting for her next words. "There was a prophecy, at the time of the War of Wrath, that someday the Fallen One would break through the Door of Night. That he would cause dissension in the heavens, and set Arien against Tilion, and bring about the last great battle."
Ilmarë is silent. It is worse than she feared.
"It may be that this time is upon is. It may be that it is but some smaller disaster that has befallen the bright Star of the Eldar. There are things afoot, Ilmarë, that leave me in great doubt in these days."
Ilmarë's heart clenches in fear. If the Lady does not know what to do--! But Varda continues, her voice sure and clear as always. "It is you, Starkeeper, who among my servants has found this troubling thing. So I set upon you this task: to search for the Morning Star, and to find him, and bring me word of what has befallen him. If indeed there is to be battle, we must know."
Ilmarë bows her head. "Lady, thank you. I will do as you say."
Varda touches her arm. "Go now. Be careful, but do not be afraid. You are ours--as the Winds are ours, as Olórin is ours, as Eönwë..." A look of sadness crosses her face, but she continues. "Take those that you need, but be secret in your search, if you can. If the Dark Lord indeed moves against the Morning Star, he will have set ambushes for those who look for him."
Ilmarë nods and stands a little straighter. It is good to have something to *do*, and to have her Lady's blessing. She bows to the Lady again, and takes her leave.
As she begins to descend the stairs, she hears another voice in her mind. It is the Lord Manwë, summoning her to his halls. Through the link, she sends respect and acknowledgement of the summons. She turns her feet towards her Lord's chambers. It is good, she thinks, to be home.
> Next
Earendil is missing! Earendil, whose light is as symbolic as it is physical, Earendil the son of Eldar and Humans and Maiar, who rises bearing the Silmaril and reminds everyone that evil can be defeated and hope can come out of disaster.
Is gone.
And no one knows where, and Ilmarë didn't notice until long after he disappeared! What will the Lady say?
At last Ilmarë reaches the top of the stairs, coming out onto a wide portico. It is late evening, the sky a deepening blue with stars just beginning to prick through. Ilmarë can feel each of them, though in this Elf-formed body she can't see most of them. It was often at this time of day that Varda used to call Ilmarë to her, long ago. Ilmarë looks about for other Maiar of Varda, but all is quiet. There is a low balcony around the edge of the platform, and Ilmarë goes to lean on it, looking down the slopes of Taniquetil through the evening mists to the small twinkling lights of Vanyar settlements far below. It is a view she once knew very well.
 |
| Ilmarë |
"My lady," Ilmarë murmurs, dropping to one knee in the bow of a messenger returning from errantry.
 |
| Lady Varda, the Star Queen |
Ilmarë wants to leap immediately to the thing that has been worrying her for the last several days--Earendil -- but she follows the Lady and dutifully answers her questions about all the other work she has been doing. As she is describing the eccentric orbit of a small object at the far edge of the solar system, not quite an asteroid but not large enough to be a proper companion of Arda, the Lady stops her with a gentle hand on her arm.
"You are troubled, Ilmarë. Speak."
"Oh, Lady." Ilmarë sighs deeply and looks at the floor. "Lady, we have--I have--I've lost the Morning Star. Lady, I do not know what has become of him! He was there and now he is not, and when I went among the Teleri I found that they have known he was gone for some time. They are in distress, especially his wife Elwing, who thinks of him always. Lady, do you know where he has gone? How could I have missed the departure of Vingilot?"
Varda looks sober, as she has all evening. "I do not doubt that Elwing missed Earendil first, and the Elves after her. Were I to be parted from the King of the Airs, I should know it before anyone." She looks out over the balcony at the stars, which fill most of the sky now. "But were you not telling me that you were working far from Arien in the cold reaches between stars, Ilmarë? That is far from the Morning Star's accustomed path."
"Aye, my Lady. I thought I felt something amiss, but I thought it was Alcarinquë. You know how he is--temperamental at times. That great red storm..."
"And did you not come for help when you found Earendil missing?"
"Yes, my Lady. But Lady, if he has been taken, if it is--"
"The Dark Lord? It may be." Varda pauses. The wind plays through her dark hair and starlight twinkles from the gems on her brow. The world is quiet, as if waiting for her next words. "There was a prophecy, at the time of the War of Wrath, that someday the Fallen One would break through the Door of Night. That he would cause dissension in the heavens, and set Arien against Tilion, and bring about the last great battle."
Ilmarë is silent. It is worse than she feared.
"It may be that this time is upon is. It may be that it is but some smaller disaster that has befallen the bright Star of the Eldar. There are things afoot, Ilmarë, that leave me in great doubt in these days."
Ilmarë's heart clenches in fear. If the Lady does not know what to do--! But Varda continues, her voice sure and clear as always. "It is you, Starkeeper, who among my servants has found this troubling thing. So I set upon you this task: to search for the Morning Star, and to find him, and bring me word of what has befallen him. If indeed there is to be battle, we must know."
Ilmarë bows her head. "Lady, thank you. I will do as you say."
Varda touches her arm. "Go now. Be careful, but do not be afraid. You are ours--as the Winds are ours, as Olórin is ours, as Eönwë..." A look of sadness crosses her face, but she continues. "Take those that you need, but be secret in your search, if you can. If the Dark Lord indeed moves against the Morning Star, he will have set ambushes for those who look for him."
Ilmarë nods and stands a little straighter. It is good to have something to *do*, and to have her Lady's blessing. She bows to the Lady again, and takes her leave.
As she begins to descend the stairs, she hears another voice in her mind. It is the Lord Manwë, summoning her to his halls. Through the link, she sends respect and acknowledgement of the summons. She turns her feet towards her Lord's chambers. It is good, she thinks, to be home.
> Next