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Yavanna flinches as though struck a physical blow at Manwë's words. Her gaze falls again upon the flowers, and she gives a small unconscious shudder at the evil she feels emanating from them. "..he is involved somehow.." The Lord of the West's words echo through her head with the resonance of a death knell, louder and louder with each repetition.
Yavanna shakes her head to clear the thought, causing the tears she did know know were forming to fall from her lashes and cascade down her cheeks. "No." Her whisper is like the plaintive cry of a small injured bird. "Blessed Eru, please, no. Not my Aulë. Please, no." Around them the forest seems to rustle and sigh with her sorrow. Here and there leaves flutter to the ground, or are blown on the gentle breeze in small swirls across the road. One brushes Yavanna's cheek and settles in the hair upon her shoulders.
Yavanna lifts her eyes and turns to stare down the road to Mandos. The movement dislodges the leaf which falls swirling to lie lifeless on the stonework top of the wall. "We must hurry to Mandos," she blurts out, louder. "We must find answers. I.. I need to know the truth." She reaches out to take hold of Manwë's arm in her urgency. "Please, my Lord, we must hurry to Mandos!"
Manwë stands strong, resisting Yavanna's urgency. He continues to stare at the evil flora before him, the look on his face stern and with a stroke of anger. "No," he commands sternly. He knows the mission to Mandos is urgent, but this evil here and now must be dealt with. With a slow motion he looks at the dead elf below and says quietly, "We cannot have another of the Children fall prey to this evil. This wall is clearly not enough to ward off this power," He says with a heavy heart. "We must do something here and now."
Yavanna turns slowly to face Manwë as she hears his words, her mouth open and ready to argue. Her green eyes, normally so verdant and radiant with her joy in the world are now flat and lifeless, the murky green of a rotting swamp, as she studies his face. What she sees there cause her words to die unspoken upon her lips. Never had she seen the Lord of the West look so heartsore and worried. Small lines creased the corners of his eyes and his lips are a thin tense line. She gives a small regretful glance towards Mandos. Her mind knows he is right yet her heart, her heart cries out differently. Turning her gaze again to Manwë she gives a small nod and murmurs , "I will do as you wish, my Lord.'
Turning back to the flowers, he nods in gratitude. "You know what we must do, Yavanna." He then takes her hands and asks, "Are you ready?"
Yavanna gently squeezes the hands that hold hers and gives a small nod. "I am ready." She closes her eyes for a moment and breathes in deeply. Her shoulders square, and her hair seems to develop a life of its own as it dances upon her shoulders. Gradually her features relax and become radiant as though from an inner glow. Her eyes open, and they are the clear crystal green of an emerald again as she raises them to the sky. From deep in her throat comes at first a soft sweet hum of sound. The sound builds and swells until finally her lips part and a song spills forth.
Yet this is no ordinary song, such as are sung around a fire or in a dance hall as one would find in Middle Earth or the songs of joy and comfort such as the Wind, Ainóme, has sung upon their journey. This is a song that calls to all she loves, all that she has created and brought forth with joy and love. The cadences and words are strange and unearthly and beautiful. As she begins to sing, she hears Manwë's rich deep voice join with her own as he sings his own song to all of his creation. Their words entwine and rise together, rising up, swelling out as their voices firm and soar.
Manwë, hearing her sing, joins in the song. He stretches out with his voice to all that he loves. The air, his creation, reverberates in his voice. The love in his voice stretches forth to rid the world of this evil before them.
Yavanna's being radiates with light as the song grows. The very air seems to become incandescent and swirl, drawing in every living thing around them. The mighty trees seem to straighten and vibrate with an energy not usually felt. The shrubs and bushes, grasses and moss, flowers and vines, all rustle and burgeon forth, growing, spreading, pushing under the stonework of the wall, encircling and finally engulfing the dark flowers.
Manwë's voice continues to rise and joins with Yavanna's with an ever growing power. Yavanna hears a great roaring as the air swirls powerfully, whipping their hair and garments about them. It shimmers and swirls with Manwë's might and power as it finds and encapsulates the darkness within the walls. As their voices rise together so does the power of that which they have called. The air whirls and pushes harder down, while the growing things surge and overwhelm the toxic blooms until at last, as the song reaches its crescendo, there is naught but beauty and radiant light within the stonework.
Gradually, as beautifully as it had begun, the song subsides until it finally ends on a lilting note that seems to hang on the air like a delicate ice crystal upon a leaf before finally melting into the warmth of the day. Yavanna lowers her eyes from the heavens and gives a weary nod. "It is done."
Manwë's eyes lower to the ground before them. The evil flowers were nowhere to be seen. He breathes a sigh of relief as the air returns to normal. The evil within it seems to have been blown away. "Yes, it is done." He did not say all of his thoughts. How could he have missed this before? His traveling with Yavanna has opened his feelings to aspects of Aman he has missed.
Yavanna looks at the area within the walls and frowns in thought. Nothing remains there now but verdant and beautiful growth, yet something is niggling at the back of her mind. Something she cannot place. But she has no desire to delay further in reaching Mandos. Her need is even more urgent than before. She MUST find Aulë! Nimble as a girl she clambers down from the wall.
Manwë follows Yavanna as she returns to the ground. Passing the dead elf's body he nods and whispers, "I pray the rest of the Children are spared of this evil." He then turns his thoughts to Aulë and Eonwë, his herald.
Yavanna pauses by the body of elf. Delicately she takes a bloom from the armband of her attire and lays it upon his hair. "Rest well in Mandos, friend," she murmurs. To think that Aulë was somehow involved in this tears at her heart. She straightens and looks at the Lord of the West. The troubled expression had returned to his face. Here before her stood Manwë Súlimo, the Elder King and Breath of Arda, brought low by the actions of her husband. Yavanna's shame was as intense as her sorrow.
Ainóme, the Wind, looks to Manwe. "Please, my lord, don't be worried." She, too, feels his sadness. "Please, tell me what I can do to help, my Lord. I feel the great sadness in you."
Yavanna looks over at the beautiful Wind. "Will you sing for him, Ainóme? Sing for this poor elf to ease his journey to Mandos?"
Ainóme bows her head. "Of course. I want to very much. I keep my harp under my cloak. I wish his travel to Mandos to be one of peace."
Manwë turns to Ainóme, "Please sing a song for him, Ainóme, to rest his spirit."
With a soft voice, Ainóme says, "Eru, listen to my song and give this elf a glorious journey to Mandos' Hall." She takes out her harp, and starts to sing:
Now done with her slow and moving song, Ainóme looks at her beloved Lord Manwë. "Of course, My Lord. I shall fly to inform Lady Varda."
Yavanna looks worriedly at Ainóme, "Take care on your journey, sweet Wind, for I fear these are dangerous times."
Manwë nods in grateful appreciation to Ainóme. "Travel with care, my Wind. For evil seems to have found it's way into our Blessed Lands."
Ainóme puts under the clock her harp. "Do not worry for me, My Lady. I am a Wind of the North. I blow hard into the face of evil." Then she addresses her Lord. "Blessings of Eru, My Lord, I will be back soon with news. " She turns and starts to fly.
Yavanna flinches as though struck a physical blow at Manwë's words. Her gaze falls again upon the flowers, and she gives a small unconscious shudder at the evil she feels emanating from them. "..he is involved somehow.." The Lord of the West's words echo through her head with the resonance of a death knell, louder and louder with each repetition.Yavanna shakes her head to clear the thought, causing the tears she did know know were forming to fall from her lashes and cascade down her cheeks. "No." Her whisper is like the plaintive cry of a small injured bird. "Blessed Eru, please, no. Not my Aulë. Please, no." Around them the forest seems to rustle and sigh with her sorrow. Here and there leaves flutter to the ground, or are blown on the gentle breeze in small swirls across the road. One brushes Yavanna's cheek and settles in the hair upon her shoulders.
Yavanna lifts her eyes and turns to stare down the road to Mandos. The movement dislodges the leaf which falls swirling to lie lifeless on the stonework top of the wall. "We must hurry to Mandos," she blurts out, louder. "We must find answers. I.. I need to know the truth." She reaches out to take hold of Manwë's arm in her urgency. "Please, my Lord, we must hurry to Mandos!"
Manwë stands strong, resisting Yavanna's urgency. He continues to stare at the evil flora before him, the look on his face stern and with a stroke of anger. "No," he commands sternly. He knows the mission to Mandos is urgent, but this evil here and now must be dealt with. With a slow motion he looks at the dead elf below and says quietly, "We cannot have another of the Children fall prey to this evil. This wall is clearly not enough to ward off this power," He says with a heavy heart. "We must do something here and now."
Yavanna turns slowly to face Manwë as she hears his words, her mouth open and ready to argue. Her green eyes, normally so verdant and radiant with her joy in the world are now flat and lifeless, the murky green of a rotting swamp, as she studies his face. What she sees there cause her words to die unspoken upon her lips. Never had she seen the Lord of the West look so heartsore and worried. Small lines creased the corners of his eyes and his lips are a thin tense line. She gives a small regretful glance towards Mandos. Her mind knows he is right yet her heart, her heart cries out differently. Turning her gaze again to Manwë she gives a small nod and murmurs , "I will do as you wish, my Lord.'
Turning back to the flowers, he nods in gratitude. "You know what we must do, Yavanna." He then takes her hands and asks, "Are you ready?"Yavanna gently squeezes the hands that hold hers and gives a small nod. "I am ready." She closes her eyes for a moment and breathes in deeply. Her shoulders square, and her hair seems to develop a life of its own as it dances upon her shoulders. Gradually her features relax and become radiant as though from an inner glow. Her eyes open, and they are the clear crystal green of an emerald again as she raises them to the sky. From deep in her throat comes at first a soft sweet hum of sound. The sound builds and swells until finally her lips part and a song spills forth.
Yet this is no ordinary song, such as are sung around a fire or in a dance hall as one would find in Middle Earth or the songs of joy and comfort such as the Wind, Ainóme, has sung upon their journey. This is a song that calls to all she loves, all that she has created and brought forth with joy and love. The cadences and words are strange and unearthly and beautiful. As she begins to sing, she hears Manwë's rich deep voice join with her own as he sings his own song to all of his creation. Their words entwine and rise together, rising up, swelling out as their voices firm and soar.
Manwë, hearing her sing, joins in the song. He stretches out with his voice to all that he loves. The air, his creation, reverberates in his voice. The love in his voice stretches forth to rid the world of this evil before them.
Yavanna's being radiates with light as the song grows. The very air seems to become incandescent and swirl, drawing in every living thing around them. The mighty trees seem to straighten and vibrate with an energy not usually felt. The shrubs and bushes, grasses and moss, flowers and vines, all rustle and burgeon forth, growing, spreading, pushing under the stonework of the wall, encircling and finally engulfing the dark flowers.
Manwë's voice continues to rise and joins with Yavanna's with an ever growing power. Yavanna hears a great roaring as the air swirls powerfully, whipping their hair and garments about them. It shimmers and swirls with Manwë's might and power as it finds and encapsulates the darkness within the walls. As their voices rise together so does the power of that which they have called. The air whirls and pushes harder down, while the growing things surge and overwhelm the toxic blooms until at last, as the song reaches its crescendo, there is naught but beauty and radiant light within the stonework.
Gradually, as beautifully as it had begun, the song subsides until it finally ends on a lilting note that seems to hang on the air like a delicate ice crystal upon a leaf before finally melting into the warmth of the day. Yavanna lowers her eyes from the heavens and gives a weary nod. "It is done."
Manwë's eyes lower to the ground before them. The evil flowers were nowhere to be seen. He breathes a sigh of relief as the air returns to normal. The evil within it seems to have been blown away. "Yes, it is done." He did not say all of his thoughts. How could he have missed this before? His traveling with Yavanna has opened his feelings to aspects of Aman he has missed.
Yavanna looks at the area within the walls and frowns in thought. Nothing remains there now but verdant and beautiful growth, yet something is niggling at the back of her mind. Something she cannot place. But she has no desire to delay further in reaching Mandos. Her need is even more urgent than before. She MUST find Aulë! Nimble as a girl she clambers down from the wall.Manwë follows Yavanna as she returns to the ground. Passing the dead elf's body he nods and whispers, "I pray the rest of the Children are spared of this evil." He then turns his thoughts to Aulë and Eonwë, his herald.
Yavanna pauses by the body of elf. Delicately she takes a bloom from the armband of her attire and lays it upon his hair. "Rest well in Mandos, friend," she murmurs. To think that Aulë was somehow involved in this tears at her heart. She straightens and looks at the Lord of the West. The troubled expression had returned to his face. Here before her stood Manwë Súlimo, the Elder King and Breath of Arda, brought low by the actions of her husband. Yavanna's shame was as intense as her sorrow.Ainóme, the Wind, looks to Manwe. "Please, my lord, don't be worried." She, too, feels his sadness. "Please, tell me what I can do to help, my Lord. I feel the great sadness in you."
Yavanna looks over at the beautiful Wind. "Will you sing for him, Ainóme? Sing for this poor elf to ease his journey to Mandos?"
Ainóme bows her head. "Of course. I want to very much. I keep my harp under my cloak. I wish his travel to Mandos to be one of peace."
Manwë turns to Ainóme, "Please sing a song for him, Ainóme, to rest his spirit."
With a soft voice, Ainóme says, "Eru, listen to my song and give this elf a glorious journey to Mandos' Hall." She takes out her harp, and starts to sing:
"Come to the valley where hearts may find peace"Ainóme, my wind," Manwë turns to his wind who waits patiently by the body of the elf, "please deliver word to Lady Varda and Ilmarë that one of the Children is dead because of this evil. Lady Yavanna and I press on to Mandos to find Aulë and Eonwë." He gives a smile to his Wind. "I do feel such sadness at his death." He looks again at the elf. "He needs a proper funeral, by the grace of Eru."
Come to the valley for sorrow's release
Your body is weary, you long for road's end
Come to the vale where life sings on the wind.
Follow the white stones to our hidden halls
Follow the bright star to Bruinen's falls
Time doesn't pass here; your cares melt away
Come to the valley, and taste Elder Days."
Now done with her slow and moving song, Ainóme looks at her beloved Lord Manwë. "Of course, My Lord. I shall fly to inform Lady Varda."Yavanna looks worriedly at Ainóme, "Take care on your journey, sweet Wind, for I fear these are dangerous times."
Manwë nods in grateful appreciation to Ainóme. "Travel with care, my Wind. For evil seems to have found it's way into our Blessed Lands."
Ainóme puts under the clock her harp. "Do not worry for me, My Lady. I am a Wind of the North. I blow hard into the face of evil." Then she addresses her Lord. "Blessings of Eru, My Lord, I will be back soon with news. " She turns and starts to fly.
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