An Evil is Discovered

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Not for the first time in recent days Yavanna moves through the world oblivious to the beauty around her.  No more does she take delight in the delicate curl of a new leaf or the graceful sway of the tall grass as the air is stirred with her passing, for Yavanna's heart is heavy and her eyes are blind to her surroundings. Today she walks beside Manwë, Lord of the West and his wind Ainóme as they journey to Mandos.  Mandos, where she will find her Aulë.  "Aulë!" her heart cries out for him.  Only now it is not a cry of joyous love as it had been in the past.  Now it is a cry of pain, for her heart has been wounded deeply.  

And so she walks, her heart and thoughts in turmoil, blind to that which is around her.  She does not notice how the tall grasses seem to whisper sadly and wilt at her passing.  She does not see how  the leaves of the mighty trees blacken and curl before falling sorrowfully to the ground, like falling tears, sometimes a few shed here and there, while others seem to gush in heartbreak. 

 The Wind Ainóme walks besides the Lady Yavanna, feeling the sadness of the Valle's heart, while trying at the same time to stay near her beloved Lord Manwë, whose heart, she could feel, was also heavy. Would a song lighten their hearts. Can it help this, she thinks.


Manwë walks with Yavanna and his wind Ainóme deep in thought. He sees the world much differently now  with Yavanna's presence as the trees motion as she passes. The land is much richer to him now than it feels when he walks alone. Yet there is a missing part of his soul. He misses his herald Eonwë.   He questions the judgment he made before but now has a clear purpose to find him.  Even as his thoughts of Eonwë and the Maker are foremost on his mind, he feels the world with one of it's creators.

Softly, the Wind Ainóme begins to sing:

Does it have to be a sad song?
Isn't it a shame?
The ones I try the hardest with
Never stay the same.

And I just can't decide if it's good or bad.
The times I hold the dearest are the times we never had.

We've yet to have,
We've yet to have,
And isn't it a sad song.

So I guess it's a sad song,
And it's a shame, oh it's a shame,
'Cause I think we made a love song
And I know you feel the same.

So I guess it's a sad song,
And it's a shame,
'Cause I think we made a love song
And I know you feel the same.

But the song does not help the heart of Yavanna. The gentle Wind grows silent for a bit, choosing instead to send her Beloved Lord and the dear Lady caressing thoughts.

Yavanna finds herself at times surging ahead of even the long strides of the Lord of the West, such is her urgency to find an answer to the pain in her heart.  At other times she realises she is lagging behind the other two, her footsteps leaden and dragging for there is a part of her that dreads what answer she may hear.  Once before she has known such pain at the hands of her beloved Aulë.  What did it mean that he had spoken so harshly to her again?  Had he hardened his heart against her and turned from her?  She lifts her head and stares down the road ahead as though in search of answers, but there is only an empty road.

Watchful, Ainóme starts and trips as she sees the Lord Manwë, almost like a child of the Children, walking, heavy of heart.  Casting a loving gaze upon the Breath of Arda, she opens her wings. The forest is full of danger, but Lady Yavanna is with them. Softly, she whispers a more cheerful song:

The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
Let others follow it who can!
Let them a journey new begin,
But I at last with weary feet
Will turn towards the lighted inn,
My evening-rest and sleep to meet.

But no one speaks, and she is worried for her Lord Manwë. She spies a flower on the ground, gives a little jump over to it, plucks it up and offers it to Yavanna, looking for a little smile, hoping to ease her sadness.

Yavanna sighs heavily as she walks.  Valimar now is fading behind them in the distance.  She glances back over her shoulder at the receding  rooftops. She does not even remember traversing the town.  She shrugs apathetically, turning her eyes again to the road ahead.  Again her feet hurry her forward.  She must see Aulë soon!  She must!  Again her emotions swung to an urgent need to seek an answer.  Blindly, she strides on.

Manwë thinks, "What could be on the mind of Eonwë for him to go to Mandos?" Walking with Yavanna and Ainóme has cleared his thoughts somewhat, enough to speculate. Eonwë's words that day were not his own. Why had he, the Lord of the West, not overseen this evil? He would soon find out as each step takes him closer to the nature of the evil. It must be confronted and defeated. He dearly wishes Eonwë back at his side.

Ainóme walks in front of her Lord, so it is she who suddenly sees something on the ground, through the branches of a tree. Her song is stopped  immediately. Approaching slowly,  she makes a discovery: a body on the ground. She screams out, "My Lord, COME!"

Manwë is stirred from his thoughts of Eonwë when Ainóme screams. He quickly strides forward, looking towards Yavanna as he does.  Yavanna looks up dazedly at the sudden cry.  She glances around her and sees Ainóme standing by something in some dead grass beside a high wall.  Warily she approaches.

Ainóme, looking at the body on the ground, moves near and tries to touch it.  As she turns the body, she screams louder.  It is elven!  Her heart breaks. How is this possible?

Horrified, Manwë looks upon the dead elf before him. A feeling of sorrow comes over him. He remembers a report of a dead elf delivered by the king of the Vanyar, but he did not feel the same as he does now. Moreover, he feels evil nearby. Leaning over the elf, he whispers, "Do you not sense it, the Evil?"

Yavanna hurries forward and stops beside the Lord of the West. Standing so near she can feel his sorrow. Now as she tears her gaze from the prostrate form before them and gazes into Manwë's eyes she can see this tragedy is moving him deeply. She blinks rapidly as she hears the word 'Evil' and turns her head to look about her. He was right. The air felt heavy and oppressive and.. something else, as well. Her eyes took in the heavy wall nearby, 'You are right," she murmurs, "and whatever it is, it's coming from beyond that wall."

Sadly, the Wind whispers, "Not even a song can bring to life this elf. He is now with Mandos, but the pain, the pain is deep."

Uncharacteristically inquisitive and eager, Manwë looks at the wall. "Why... has this wall always been here?" They were some distance from the town. "Perhaps we should investigate what lies behind this wall?"

Yavanna narrows her eyes thoughtfully and examines the wall. She takes a few steps forward and puts her hand upon it, palm downward, against the stonework and opens her senses to it.  She gasps and steps back hurriedly, rubbing her hand upon her cloak as she does so. "Aulë!", she manages to force the word past a throat suddenly closed and tight, "Aulë built this wall!"

"Aulë?  But why? This is even more cause to stop and investigate." He looks up at the wall and reaches towards the top to climb on top of it.

Silently, the Wind Ainóme listens to them as they speak, unable to find anything to add.  Yavanna glances up at the worried face of the Wind.  Normally so cheerful and bright, even she was now subdued and worried.  "Wait! Wait, my Lord, Let me come with you!" she calls as she sees Manwë clambering up the rough stonework.

Manwë reaches the top of the wall and with barely a glance down over the other side, kneels down and offers a hand to Yavanna, his face concerned as he does so. "I think it is best if you look at this with me."

Yavanna  reaches up to accept Manwë's helping hand. For one who had spent time clambering among the branches of might oaks the wall was no challenge to her really.  Once on the top she turns to survey that which lay beyond it.   She staggers a little and clutches onto Manwë for support, such was the depth of  darkness she felt emanating from the clusters of dark flowers that lay before her.  Unable to tear her eyes away from them she gasps, 'These.. these are not of my making!" She turns to Manwë as she continues, "There is an evilness in them, a powerful darkness.  I.. I think we know what killed yon elf."  She glances down at the anxious Ainóme below. "Do not come up here Ainóme. It is not safe for you."

Down below,  the Wind obeys Yavanna, though she feels her Lord has need of her.

"Not of your making?" Manwë asks as he steadies Yavanna on the wall. The evil emanating from the flowers is intense.  He looks at the elf below.  He could almost feel for him: he must have suffered a painful death.  As he turns back toward the flowers he glances upon the wall. "If they are not of your making, then perhaps they are a creation of Aulë's?"

Yavanna shakes her head slowly, deeply troubled, "I.. I cannot say if Aulë made them.  They are too evil for me to risk reaching out to sense whose energies made them.  I just know he made the wall, whether to hide them, or contain them, I know not."

Manwë looks back at the flowers.  As he does so he recalls the incident when the Maker crafted a new race of Children hidden from his brethren's eyes, then tried to hide them from the face of Illuvatar "If he did create these flowers, it would not be the first time he has succeeded, but the evil..." he pauses a moment in thought "even so, you are certain he built the wall around them, so he is involved somehow. I say he has a lot of explaining to do" Manwë finishes sternly.

> An Evil Destroyed