Shawn Daysleeper and AelKennyr Rhiano
Time seems to slow and fade away, a meaningless convention for his race, for the Valar, as well. The pit-pat of sand in an hourglass, the tick-plop of the water-clocks in Varda's hall, the ticking of the mechanical construction the Maker himself fashioned once, explaining to an intrigued Lord of the West how the Children sought to measure and harness time...all meaningless, but so much more now. For Eonwe, mightiest in Arms among the Maiar, Herald to the Lord of the West, life without purpose as it has been was nothing more than a measurement of one breath after another, one heartbeat and then a second, one growl of the stomach, silenced but for a short while. But all that has faded away as he listens to the exchange between the Lady of All Things Green, of Animals Living, and the Vala of Compassion.
His body, though, slave to time and physical limitations, reminds him, and he sucks in a sharp breath, his blue eyes ever searching the faces about him. Yavanna, so tall and regal, so hurt and so proud, struggling. He can see that in the way her eyes glance into the chambers, lit upon the beds and the furnishings that spoke of things far clearer than any proclamation. Nienna, eyes sharp and yet to Eonwe, fearful in his estimate. She presses closer to the Smith, and one of Eonwe's hands curls into a fist , but his arm does not move, and years of being by his Lord's side return him to old habits. So he stands, tall, silent, watching, feeling the presence of the Lord of the West beside him, a warmth like the sun.
Manwe Sulimo nods in acknowledgment to the words of Yavanna. "My words will come in due course," he replies to her, and his gaze passes over the Lady of Compassion. "But there is another matter I must tend to just now." Manwe looks over to the one beside him. Manwe sees Eonwe now, not as a Herald or Warrior. The Lord of Arda realizes that Eonwe has been under the influence of the chamber and was not acting on his own. He stands now before him, finally. The separation has been too long and hard on both of them. He reaches out to draw him in with an embrace. He breathes deeply and tries to control his own emotions as he realizes that Eonwe was not himself when he last spoke with him. This is the first time they have spoken to each other since that terrible dismissal.
Eonwe watches as the Lord of the West turns to him. Blue eyes widen and a gasp of surprise escapes him as the arms of Lord Manwe reach for him, and Eonwe watches his own, as though they were a part of someone else and not this physical form, reach out in return. Unbidden, he takes a half step forward, eyes closing as he feels the arms of the Lord of the West, gentle, warm, comforting close about him and pull him into an embrace. Bowing his head, he feels a tremble starting in his chest, moving outward from his heart and spreading. There, in the arms of the Lord of the West, Eonwe, the mightiest in Arms of all the Maiar feels the salty warmth of tears and opens his eyes, marveling still, after all this time, how very warm tears are, how salty as they tumble down his cheek, over his lip and into his mouth. He swallows hard and tries to speak. Oh, the things he wants to say, wants to voice. Was he not the Voice of Manwe? But right now, in the arms of the one who was Father, Brother, Lord, all Eonwe can give voice to is a broken deep sigh, and the two words, "My Lord."
While the Breath of Arda holds his beloved Herald, his emotions begin to lose control. "I was wrong" he begins with difficulty. "I was wrong to not listen to you. I was wrong to doubt you." Manwe displays not his normal, unemotional self as he did in his Halls, but now he gives in to his emotions. "I should not have dismissed you in that manner." His murmur fades into tears.
The murmured words fade, and in the silence, Eonwe can hear the beat of this body's heart, hear his breath, ragged, He hears the stillness in the chamber like a living thing, waiting, waiting. His hands press against the woven gold belt encircling the waist of the Lord of the West, the warmth of Manwe's body reassuring, even as his head spins as the words that have tumbled from the Lord Manwe's mouth. Wrong, I was wrong...the words leave the Maia still but troubled. "Wrong," he whispers. No, such a thing is not possible. "N-no, my Lord," he whispers. "I-I," he pauses, and words, which always before come to him as easily as skill with sword and shield, flee his mind. He frowns. "You are Manwe, Lord of the West, and the Breath of Arda, " he says softly, and his voice is low and fierce, clinging to all he believes that to mean.
Manwe places his hands on Eonwe's shoulders and draws back to look into his troubled eyes. "I am Manwe, Lord of the West, but I am wrong. My vision is clouded by the dark magic coming from within." He nods towards the chamber behind Eonwe. "I have allowed myself to be misled, but no longer!" He pauses to wipe the tears from his own eyes before he says, "I must now cleanse this chamber. The evil in it has caused all of this. But when I have, we shall talk, you and I. And this time, I promise you, your Lord will listen. But you must listen too, in turn." Manwe's tears still fall, but he does not know if they are tears of joy at seeing his herald again or are remorse from his error.
Eonwe steps back, his hands dropping back down by his sides, feeling the firm assurance in Manwe's grip on the Maia's shoulders. Blue eyes lift up to gaze into the eyes of the Breath of Arda, and Eonwe draws in a long deep breath. There are tears falling from the eyes of his Lord, like rain from a summer sky. His voice is quiet as he answers, but his own eyes shimmer with tears. "My Lord," he starts and then bows his head. "My Lord," he starts again. "Your wish is my will. Your word my course, Your command my desire. I am of the House of Manwe, and so, My Lord, I hear and obey." He lifts his eyes up to meet Manwe's. "Tell your Eonwe what is your Will, and let the Will of the Lord of the West become deed." He clenches his hand and lifts the hand toward his chest over the heart. "Here stands your Maia. All I have ever wished, my Lord, is to serve."
Manwe wipes his eyes once more, and looks at Eonwe. He whispers softly intending only Eonwe hear. "My heart is glad, and my will be your deed," He says gently and then speaks louder so others around hear. "I know how strongly you feel about the Maker and what has happened in this chamber, but I ask of you now, do my bidding as you always have, and trust in me, in what I am choosing to do."
He then raises his eyes to the others around him and says more sternly in his normal tone of authority. "The events here have touched you all, either because of the magicks in the chamber, or because of the actions of those affected by it. I command you now to listen to your Lord and heed his words. Never shall I be so blind again. There has been a great evil here, and now is the time for this to end. All of you must move to the upper floor of Mandos while I cleanse and seal away the chamber."
He looks sternly at all in turn, especially towards the Maker and Nienna. He breathes deeply, hoping all those before him comply without incident
> Next
His body, though, slave to time and physical limitations, reminds him, and he sucks in a sharp breath, his blue eyes ever searching the faces about him. Yavanna, so tall and regal, so hurt and so proud, struggling. He can see that in the way her eyes glance into the chambers, lit upon the beds and the furnishings that spoke of things far clearer than any proclamation. Nienna, eyes sharp and yet to Eonwe, fearful in his estimate. She presses closer to the Smith, and one of Eonwe's hands curls into a fist , but his arm does not move, and years of being by his Lord's side return him to old habits. So he stands, tall, silent, watching, feeling the presence of the Lord of the West beside him, a warmth like the sun.
Manwe Sulimo nods in acknowledgment to the words of Yavanna. "My words will come in due course," he replies to her, and his gaze passes over the Lady of Compassion. "But there is another matter I must tend to just now." Manwe looks over to the one beside him. Manwe sees Eonwe now, not as a Herald or Warrior. The Lord of Arda realizes that Eonwe has been under the influence of the chamber and was not acting on his own. He stands now before him, finally. The separation has been too long and hard on both of them. He reaches out to draw him in with an embrace. He breathes deeply and tries to control his own emotions as he realizes that Eonwe was not himself when he last spoke with him. This is the first time they have spoken to each other since that terrible dismissal.
Eonwe watches as the Lord of the West turns to him. Blue eyes widen and a gasp of surprise escapes him as the arms of Lord Manwe reach for him, and Eonwe watches his own, as though they were a part of someone else and not this physical form, reach out in return. Unbidden, he takes a half step forward, eyes closing as he feels the arms of the Lord of the West, gentle, warm, comforting close about him and pull him into an embrace. Bowing his head, he feels a tremble starting in his chest, moving outward from his heart and spreading. There, in the arms of the Lord of the West, Eonwe, the mightiest in Arms of all the Maiar feels the salty warmth of tears and opens his eyes, marveling still, after all this time, how very warm tears are, how salty as they tumble down his cheek, over his lip and into his mouth. He swallows hard and tries to speak. Oh, the things he wants to say, wants to voice. Was he not the Voice of Manwe? But right now, in the arms of the one who was Father, Brother, Lord, all Eonwe can give voice to is a broken deep sigh, and the two words, "My Lord."
While the Breath of Arda holds his beloved Herald, his emotions begin to lose control. "I was wrong" he begins with difficulty. "I was wrong to not listen to you. I was wrong to doubt you." Manwe displays not his normal, unemotional self as he did in his Halls, but now he gives in to his emotions. "I should not have dismissed you in that manner." His murmur fades into tears.
The murmured words fade, and in the silence, Eonwe can hear the beat of this body's heart, hear his breath, ragged, He hears the stillness in the chamber like a living thing, waiting, waiting. His hands press against the woven gold belt encircling the waist of the Lord of the West, the warmth of Manwe's body reassuring, even as his head spins as the words that have tumbled from the Lord Manwe's mouth. Wrong, I was wrong...the words leave the Maia still but troubled. "Wrong," he whispers. No, such a thing is not possible. "N-no, my Lord," he whispers. "I-I," he pauses, and words, which always before come to him as easily as skill with sword and shield, flee his mind. He frowns. "You are Manwe, Lord of the West, and the Breath of Arda, " he says softly, and his voice is low and fierce, clinging to all he believes that to mean.
Manwe places his hands on Eonwe's shoulders and draws back to look into his troubled eyes. "I am Manwe, Lord of the West, but I am wrong. My vision is clouded by the dark magic coming from within." He nods towards the chamber behind Eonwe. "I have allowed myself to be misled, but no longer!" He pauses to wipe the tears from his own eyes before he says, "I must now cleanse this chamber. The evil in it has caused all of this. But when I have, we shall talk, you and I. And this time, I promise you, your Lord will listen. But you must listen too, in turn." Manwe's tears still fall, but he does not know if they are tears of joy at seeing his herald again or are remorse from his error.
Eonwe steps back, his hands dropping back down by his sides, feeling the firm assurance in Manwe's grip on the Maia's shoulders. Blue eyes lift up to gaze into the eyes of the Breath of Arda, and Eonwe draws in a long deep breath. There are tears falling from the eyes of his Lord, like rain from a summer sky. His voice is quiet as he answers, but his own eyes shimmer with tears. "My Lord," he starts and then bows his head. "My Lord," he starts again. "Your wish is my will. Your word my course, Your command my desire. I am of the House of Manwe, and so, My Lord, I hear and obey." He lifts his eyes up to meet Manwe's. "Tell your Eonwe what is your Will, and let the Will of the Lord of the West become deed." He clenches his hand and lifts the hand toward his chest over the heart. "Here stands your Maia. All I have ever wished, my Lord, is to serve."Manwe wipes his eyes once more, and looks at Eonwe. He whispers softly intending only Eonwe hear. "My heart is glad, and my will be your deed," He says gently and then speaks louder so others around hear. "I know how strongly you feel about the Maker and what has happened in this chamber, but I ask of you now, do my bidding as you always have, and trust in me, in what I am choosing to do."
He then raises his eyes to the others around him and says more sternly in his normal tone of authority. "The events here have touched you all, either because of the magicks in the chamber, or because of the actions of those affected by it. I command you now to listen to your Lord and heed his words. Never shall I be so blind again. There has been a great evil here, and now is the time for this to end. All of you must move to the upper floor of Mandos while I cleanse and seal away the chamber."
He looks sternly at all in turn, especially towards the Maker and Nienna. He breathes deeply, hoping all those before him comply without incident> Next