Belenos and Rhûn Darkmoon
Voices swirl around Aulë's head like the buzz of angry bees: Yavanna and Nienna exchanging heated words, the whining voice of that treacherous whelp Eonwë as he grovels to the Lord of the West, and indeed the, at first soft and then authoritative, tones of Manwë Súlimo himself. He blinks as he tries to take in what they are saying, raising a hand to rub absently at his forehead to ease the throb that is always there whenever he leaves the chamber. He glances wistfully over his shoulder at the room as though sending a silent promise that he will soon return.
Finally the buzz of Manwë's voice ceases. As he turns his gaze again to the group before him, his eyes fall upon Yavanna. There she stands beside the Lord of the West. He glances from her to the other who now also stands beside the Breath of Arda, that treacherous cur, Eonwë, who has now twice drawn blade in his presence. His lips curl into a silent sneer to see these two standing by Manwë's side. How is he to ever convince his Lord and brother of his sincere intent when he has these two pouring poison in his ear? Who began it, he wondered? Was it Eonwë, jealous of his power among the Valar? Or was it his very own wife? He turns his gaze again to Yavanna. To Aulë's eye her stance is proud and haughty. Yes, yes, he knew who must answer for this.'"Are you pleased with yourself, wife?" he asks, his voice a low rumble in the sudden silence that follows Manwë's words.
Until now, Yavanna has forced herself to keep her attention on Manwë as he spoke. She has no desire to look upon her husband as he stands there with Nienna by his side, her arm around him so possessively. Her mind tries to ignore what her eyes and ears tell her. Now his voice draws her, as it always had, even as his tone pierces her like a knife. Her skin flushes pink as she forces herself to turn and look into her husband's eyes. What she sees there chills her more than the bitterest of winter winds, and it is all she can do to stammer out a reply, "I.. I have no reason for pleasure in any of this."Aulë snorts in derision at her words. '"Do not play the humble maid with me, Yavanna," his voice is a low growl of scorn as he continues. "This is not the first time you've gone running whining to Manwë about your husband! You dare to speak to this sweet one by my side about remembering her place, when you cannot remember yours? Where is your loyalty to your husband?" As he speaks, Aulë's voice had been slowly rising until with his ire.
Stung beyond endurance, the sharp pain in Yavanna's heart hardens into something more fierce, and her eyes flash green fire as she retorts, "What loyalty would I owe a husband who has none to me? Look at yourself, Aulë!" She flicks her gaze like a whip over her husband and the one who stands with him. "You have the gall to stand before your wife with Nienna hanging off you like any common street strumpet of Middle Earth, and you speak to me of loyalty?"
"Do not speak of her so!" Aulë's voice is a savage roar as he steps forward, his hand raised as though to strike the very words from her lips.
Yavanna's eyes widen, but she does not flinch before the anticipated blow. Again her eyes flick over Nienna and then back to her husband. Her expression hardens, and she tilts her chin up defiantly, as though daring him to finish his action. "You have your wish, husband. I shall not speak of her so. I have no intention of speaking of her ever again. Nor you. I wash my hands of you both. I care not whether it be dark magic or simple common lust behind all this, but I wash my hands of it. And you." With a small bow of her head in an ironic salute of farewell, she turns her back on the one who has been her mate through all the Ages of the world and walks away.> Next