Played by:
AelKennyr Rhiano
Shawn Daysleeper
It has been some time since Manwë has returned from Mandos. He still worries about the condition of his Herald. He dearly misses Eonwë at his side in the throne room, but does not wish to summon him to the White Mountain. He decides to go see for himself how his healing is progressing. Out of care and loss he goes to the lake in Lorien for a moment of serenity before meeting him.
((Out of care and loss he goes to.. Lorien.))
The lake is clean and clear. It's magical properties absorb all evil from those that are being cleansed. It is a quiet place, and he welcomes the serenity and calm after the chaos and darkness he has been feeling in the underground hold of Mandos and in Melkor's old prison. The prison is now safely inaccessible and buried under rubble by the Lord of the West himself. Such things are now past, and the West is renewed.
He is now eager to see if his Herald is healed. At the shoreline, he looks over the smooth waves, seeking out Eonwë.
Clouds drape themselves across a velvet sky that never changes, never loses the calm tranquility of an unscarred place. Soft they look, as they do a slow and majestic saunter across the skies, and the trees atop the great waterfall behind the Maia seem to stretch green branches towards them, as though their limbs could reach and trail wood fingers across the smoothness of the clouds. Crickets call a drowsy counterpoint to the raucous song of the water as it dances and slips across worn and lichen covered stone to drop into the waters of the lake. Breathing deep as he floated languidly swims, the perfume of trees heavy with fruit, flowers drunk with their own nectar, and the heady scent of green grasses fill his lungs. Powerful arms slice through the surface of the water as the Maia, at ease now in this physical form, glides through water, unaware of his grace, unaware of his beauty, conscious of creation around him, of him, in him, and nothing more.
The water, cool when he enter, slides over his flesh like the warm carress of a patient lover, and when he pauses in his swim, treading water, little fish rise from some hidden sanctuary and nibble at his toes, causing the Maia so gasp in surprise and splashes the water as he jumps.. laughter spilling from his lips, rushing to fill the air with another sound of creation.
(("Laughter?" thinks Manwe.))
The serenity of the garden does not hurry Manwë. He strolls further along the lake shore enjoying the beauty around him. He enjoys setting aside his worries and duties while he seeks out his Herald. Walking further he is drawn by the sound of laughter. "Laughter?" thinks Manwë. He spies a form in the water and recognizes it as Eonwë.
((He spies a form in the water.. Eonwe.))
Water, Air. It is but a difference of sensation, thinks Eonwe as he dives down into the water, feeling the push of the water against his body. Touching the bottom, he pauses as he flexes and then clenches his toes, the silt softness of the bottom sliding between and over those same toes. The disturbance to the bottom causes little brown puffs of silt and sand to rise up as Eonwe pushes off the bottom and propels his body back up to the surface. Breaking the surface of the water, Eonwe tosses his head forward and back, lifting a hand to push long dark wet hair back and away from his eyes. There, on the banks, stands a figure that was not there before. A form well known and much loved.
((There, on the banks, stands a figure..))
There stands the Lord of the West. "Manwe, " Eonwe breathes, and the word is a song, a wind, a hope, a pledge of love, and a prayer. He rises from the water, as soon as he utters the word, uncaring and unashamed that he is clothed only in flesh. It is the Lord of Arda who stand there. His Lord, and his heart swells at the sight.
((He rises from the water.. clothed only in flesh.))
Manwë feels his heart lighten at Eonwë's good spirits as he plays in the water. He sees how tranquil and confident he moves as he walks out of the lake. So very different from when he last saw him. He is free of the burden that had poisoned him before. The legacy of the Fallen One claims him not. Manwë looks him in the eyes and smiles. "Eonwë, my Herald."
((.. it is then that he realizes his nakedness.))
The wind swirls and dances across the lake, across the shore, as though to honor he who is the Lord of Winds, and as it cools the water upon Eonwe's skin, it is then he truly realizes his nakedness. A rosy flush sweeps across Eonwe's cheeks as the Maia, with a thought, adorns his body in a white rainment such as he has seen the Vanyar wear when attendant upon the Breath of Arda. Blue eyes, so often sharp and level in their regard, now shine with a reflected love. "Manwe, my Lord," answers Eonwe, now dressed fittingly to be in his Lord's presence. He closes the distance between him and his Lord and taking one of the hands of the Lord of the West, Eonwe drops to his knees and bows his head, touching his forehead to the back of Manwe's hand. "My Beloved Lord, "Eonwe says, and his voice is as it were before. No, no, it was more; deeper, richer, fuller, filled with equal parts joy and sorrow.
((Eonwe drops to his knees...)
Radiant is the face Eonwe turns up to gaze into the face of the Lord of the West. "I am thy servant, my Lord. Let the Will of the Lord of the West be my guide."
Manwë's face colors slightly at Eonwë's dedication. Holding Eonwe's hand he smiles. At last, he is healed. He urges Eonwë to his feet. "You, Eonwë, have stood at my side all the long ages of the world. Your actions and words say to me that you have indeed found the path of Herald once more. Your place is not at my feet, but at my side, as it once was. I now ask you, will you rise and take that place again and become the Voice of the Lord of the West?"
(("Your place is not at my feet..")
Eonwe rises at Manwe's urging, his gaze locked upon the face of the Lord of the West as his eyes shine with unshed tears, He clutches the hand tightly and swallows, confused for a moment at the sudden thickness of his throat, the loud pounding of his heart. Yes, he thinks remembering his dream/trance. I am I, Eonwe. "I am Eonwe, who is your Maia, now and evermore. It is to be at your side that I exist, Lord othe West. Let me be by your side. Let me serve you, with love and hope that I shall never again disgrace what I am or who you are. Command me, Lord of Arda, and thy words will be my will."
(("I am Eonwe, who is your Maia, now and evermore."))
Manwe looks at Eonwë, then looks at the empty place at his side. "Then if you will do my will, take your place beside me again. There you will serve me with love and hope." Manwë waits, holding his hand to his side.
(("..take your place beside me again..."))
The Great Song is in the voice of the Lord of the West, in his words, his look, his gesture. All about them, in the garden of Lorien, to Eonwe, the Maiar, the Mightiest in Arms in Arda, He who was the Voice of the Lord of the West, all creation still and waited. Waited for the response of a Maia. As does he who is the greatest of the Valar, the closest to the mind of Eru himself. Here stands Father, brother, friend, Lord, and the answer that rises forth from Eonwe is part of that Song.
((Eonwe moves to take his place by Manwe's side.))
Smoothly, Eonwe moves to take his place by Manwe's side. "My Will is the will of the Lord of the West. He speaks, and I am his Voice. Thus it has been. Thus it shall always be." He pauses and then looks over at his Beloved Lord. "But now, my Lord, I know who I am. I know what I am. And I know I belong." He gives a soft smile, then, just for his Lord. "I know I belong."
(("I know I belong."))