Rajani Miltion, Lihan Taifun, and Sakura Easterwood
"Let us go on."
Ilmare looks up from admiring her new skin tone (it is a pretty good job, if she says so herself--she has not often tried to look this much like the Children of Eru, but she thinks she looks pretty convincing today, now that she is not blue) and follows after Nienna. The waterfall on their left splashes and roars as if delighted with the day. Ilmare smiles. Well, they are on their way now. It is not so very far to Lorien: Lord Namo of Mandos and Lord Irmo of Lorien are close in residence as they are in heart. She wonders what they are to do once they reach the Gardens of Lorien. It is sure that the Lord of the West has a plan, but he has not told her any details. She does not think Nienna understands any more of the plan, but she asks politely anyway. "Has Lord Manwe said what we will do in Lorien? It will be very restful, I think, whatever it is. Much more relaxing than spending so much time with the dead. At least, so it seems to me."
Nienna is concentrating on walking: on the muscles in her feet and legs, and how the balance of her body changes with each step, on the textures of the path, sand and grass and rock. Walking is much easier than it was for her on her first journey, to Mandos with Aulė, but she has not walked any distance since that time. Only a few steps around the comfortable and sheltering rooms they shared, deep in beneath the Halls of Mandos. Now, walking, under the sky and the trees and the sun, amid wind and waterfall spray and flowering plants, with beetles in the grass and birds overhead, she is again facing the overwhelming range of physical sensations, all at once, and without the help of her sweet guide, Aulė. Where is Aulė? The thought still circles in her mind, though she can spare it little attention while watching for rocks and twigs in the way of her feet.
She looks up at Ilmarė's question. In that moment of inattention, the hem of her skirt catches on the edge of a plum bush, bravely beginning to flower in the early warmth of spring. Nienna stops, untangles her skirt, and then makes an effort to walk more quickly to catch up to Ilmarė. "No," she says thoughtfully, rationing her breath so she can speak and walk at the same time. "Lord Manwė told me very little. 'Rest', he said. 'Rest and heal'. Whatever he means by that. But Lórien is the perfect place for 'resting' and 'healing.'" She smiles wistfully, remembering many pleasant visits to Irmo and Estė's gardens. As her attention moves into the realm of memory, her foot steps onto the edge of a protruding stone, fouling her balance, and she quickly adjusts her muscles to correct her stance lest she fall. The Children make it look so easy to walk and converse at the same time!
Ilmare looks up from admiring her new skin tone (it is a pretty good job, if she says so herself--she has not often tried to look this much like the Children of Eru, but she thinks she looks pretty convincing today, now that she is not blue) and follows after Nienna. The waterfall on their left splashes and roars as if delighted with the day. Ilmare smiles. Well, they are on their way now. It is not so very far to Lorien: Lord Namo of Mandos and Lord Irmo of Lorien are close in residence as they are in heart. She wonders what they are to do once they reach the Gardens of Lorien. It is sure that the Lord of the West has a plan, but he has not told her any details. She does not think Nienna understands any more of the plan, but she asks politely anyway. "Has Lord Manwe said what we will do in Lorien? It will be very restful, I think, whatever it is. Much more relaxing than spending so much time with the dead. At least, so it seems to me."
Nienna is concentrating on walking: on the muscles in her feet and legs, and how the balance of her body changes with each step, on the textures of the path, sand and grass and rock. Walking is much easier than it was for her on her first journey, to Mandos with Aulė, but she has not walked any distance since that time. Only a few steps around the comfortable and sheltering rooms they shared, deep in beneath the Halls of Mandos. Now, walking, under the sky and the trees and the sun, amid wind and waterfall spray and flowering plants, with beetles in the grass and birds overhead, she is again facing the overwhelming range of physical sensations, all at once, and without the help of her sweet guide, Aulė. Where is Aulė? The thought still circles in her mind, though she can spare it little attention while watching for rocks and twigs in the way of her feet.
She looks up at Ilmarė's question. In that moment of inattention, the hem of her skirt catches on the edge of a plum bush, bravely beginning to flower in the early warmth of spring. Nienna stops, untangles her skirt, and then makes an effort to walk more quickly to catch up to Ilmarė. "No," she says thoughtfully, rationing her breath so she can speak and walk at the same time. "Lord Manwė told me very little. 'Rest', he said. 'Rest and heal'. Whatever he means by that. But Lórien is the perfect place for 'resting' and 'healing.'" She smiles wistfully, remembering many pleasant visits to Irmo and Estė's gardens. As her attention moves into the realm of memory, her foot steps onto the edge of a protruding stone, fouling her balance, and she quickly adjusts her muscles to correct her stance lest she fall. The Children make it look so easy to walk and converse at the same time!
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It is a beautiful day at Lorien, with the sun shining down on the mystical garden and all that resided in it. Not that it is unusual to have such days here. Down at a stream, Este is sitting on a rock in midst of several animals that live in the garden, enjoying the sun. She sits up a bit when a white dove flies down and lands on her hand. Este can be found here a lot. Often as mythical as the garden itself, she likes to keep to her own, and to her husband, and in his absence she has been sitting especially here many times. Absent-mindedly she caresses the dove as she wonders what had been going on outside of the garden, though she knows something has occurred...a change.
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Ilmarë nods. She steps quickly over a rock in the pathway as Nienna catches back up to her. "I have not often been to Lorien," she says. "My duties keep me elsewhere. Rarely in Arda at all, in fact."
When she thinks about it, she misses her stars and planets, but this is no time to be wishing she were somewhere else. This journey is obviously important to Lord Manwë, and she will see Eonwë again in Lorien. She is still concerned for him, and with the concern comes unease with the Lady Nienna again. "But the Maiar in service there have always reported themselves very happy. They say it is very satisfying work, and the Lord and Lady are good to them."
In the upper airs, Arien's ship is dipping into the west, below a ridge of trees. Already the day is losing its heat. Soon it will be evening. Nienna smiles to herself, remembering long silver twilights beneath the silver leaves of the willows of Lórien. To Ilmarë she says absently, "No doubt the Lord and Lady are good to them because they serve well. Maiar are pleased to serve." Yet, she remembers, that is not always true. The Maiar who served Aulë and herself in Mandos seemed sullen. And Eönwë had sided with them, he whose dearest wish was to serve his own lord, Manwë. How strange. With a sharper sidewise look to Ilmarë, she asks, "Do you get these questions from your brother?"
Ilmare bites her tongue. Even in this changeable body, that hurts enough to keep her from blurting out something rude. How is it that the Lady of Compassion can get under her skin so easily? She would not have thought it possible. "My brother and I speak our own minds, Lady," she says. "I do not order his thoughts, nor he mine." She looks up at the sunset, thinking of Arien, of Tilion, of all the Maiar under her care. "But think you, Lady, that the Valar have no duty to those who serve them? I have not heard such things from my Lady." The thought that the Valar could even contemplate using them merely for their service, with no care to their needs, galls and angers her. It is not what she has known in all her long years. "Perhaps the Maiar of Lorien serve well because their Lord and Lady are good to them."
Nienna walks on. What would a Maia to know of Vala matters?
The land here is soft, carpeted in grasses and many flowers. The light is gentle. Perhaps they are already within the gardens of Lórien. Certainly Irmo and Estë's influence hovers over this land. Nienna does not recognize this area, but sometimes Lórien can be quite changeable -- like Irmo's dreams. At the center is always the Lake, Lórellin, Estë's home. Yet even the shoreline of that lake has been known to shift, dreamlike. It is easiest to come to Lórien without expectation, relax, and find whatever you find. That old habit of relaxing here, and taking whatever comes, begins to steal into Nienna's mind, and she is content to follow the path. It seems, as near as she can tell, to be leading inward, toward the lake. The lake is most likely where Manwë meant that they would meet again. Yet even the thought of meeting Aulë is less urgent, under the silvery shadows and scented breezes of Lórien. It will happen soon enough, and for now the walking is pleasant.
Nienna ignores Ilmare's last words, and Ilmare feels her irritation building again. Yet it is hard to keep such feelings alive when walking in this land. In this place of healing, some are drawn to look inward, and others are drawn to cease to focus on themselves and to look instead at the world around them. Ilmare finds that she cares less and less what the Vala beside her thinks--indeed, she cares less and less for the worries that have been encroaching on her mind ever since she saw Eonwe fall under the shadow. She does not consciously think that all will be well, and she need not worry about the other Maiar under her care, but slowly she finds a sense of peace stealing over her. And slowly she begins to know where she needs to be: a certain point along the lake up ahead. She walks now with no great urgency but with a sense of purpose, a small smile on her face.
> Next
When she thinks about it, she misses her stars and planets, but this is no time to be wishing she were somewhere else. This journey is obviously important to Lord Manwë, and she will see Eonwë again in Lorien. She is still concerned for him, and with the concern comes unease with the Lady Nienna again. "But the Maiar in service there have always reported themselves very happy. They say it is very satisfying work, and the Lord and Lady are good to them."
In the upper airs, Arien's ship is dipping into the west, below a ridge of trees. Already the day is losing its heat. Soon it will be evening. Nienna smiles to herself, remembering long silver twilights beneath the silver leaves of the willows of Lórien. To Ilmarë she says absently, "No doubt the Lord and Lady are good to them because they serve well. Maiar are pleased to serve." Yet, she remembers, that is not always true. The Maiar who served Aulë and herself in Mandos seemed sullen. And Eönwë had sided with them, he whose dearest wish was to serve his own lord, Manwë. How strange. With a sharper sidewise look to Ilmarë, she asks, "Do you get these questions from your brother?"
Ilmare bites her tongue. Even in this changeable body, that hurts enough to keep her from blurting out something rude. How is it that the Lady of Compassion can get under her skin so easily? She would not have thought it possible. "My brother and I speak our own minds, Lady," she says. "I do not order his thoughts, nor he mine." She looks up at the sunset, thinking of Arien, of Tilion, of all the Maiar under her care. "But think you, Lady, that the Valar have no duty to those who serve them? I have not heard such things from my Lady." The thought that the Valar could even contemplate using them merely for their service, with no care to their needs, galls and angers her. It is not what she has known in all her long years. "Perhaps the Maiar of Lorien serve well because their Lord and Lady are good to them."
Nienna walks on. What would a Maia to know of Vala matters?
The land here is soft, carpeted in grasses and many flowers. The light is gentle. Perhaps they are already within the gardens of Lórien. Certainly Irmo and Estë's influence hovers over this land. Nienna does not recognize this area, but sometimes Lórien can be quite changeable -- like Irmo's dreams. At the center is always the Lake, Lórellin, Estë's home. Yet even the shoreline of that lake has been known to shift, dreamlike. It is easiest to come to Lórien without expectation, relax, and find whatever you find. That old habit of relaxing here, and taking whatever comes, begins to steal into Nienna's mind, and she is content to follow the path. It seems, as near as she can tell, to be leading inward, toward the lake. The lake is most likely where Manwë meant that they would meet again. Yet even the thought of meeting Aulë is less urgent, under the silvery shadows and scented breezes of Lórien. It will happen soon enough, and for now the walking is pleasant.
Nienna ignores Ilmare's last words, and Ilmare feels her irritation building again. Yet it is hard to keep such feelings alive when walking in this land. In this place of healing, some are drawn to look inward, and others are drawn to cease to focus on themselves and to look instead at the world around them. Ilmare finds that she cares less and less what the Vala beside her thinks--indeed, she cares less and less for the worries that have been encroaching on her mind ever since she saw Eonwe fall under the shadow. She does not consciously think that all will be well, and she need not worry about the other Maiar under her care, but slowly she finds a sense of peace stealing over her. And slowly she begins to know where she needs to be: a certain point along the lake up ahead. She walks now with no great urgency but with a sense of purpose, a small smile on her face.
> Next