Played by:
Rhun Darkmoon
They say the night is darkest just before the dawn, yet in Middle Earth even at that hour, the night-time sky is still lit with myriads of stars. One can gaze upon it, and despite its inky expanse there is no sense of emptiness, for the glorious panoply of heavenly bodies that reign there fill the eye and mind with a beauty beyond belief. If one listens, breathes deep and truly listens, the ear cannot hear it, yet the very air seems to vibrate with an ethereal celestial chorus. Standing, eyes cast upwards, feeling rather than hearing the Song of the Stars, one can never feel truly alone, or truly bereft, for every living thing seems part of that Song, cradled in the velvety embrace of the night-time sky.
Aulë has always likened the mental connection shared by the Ainur to this night-time magnificence. In the vast space of thought the presence of each of the Ainur shimmers diamond bright needing only a conscious effort to reach out and touch the mind of one of those shining beings. Manwë, Varda, Ulmo, Irmo, all of them he could pinpoint exactly should he have need. Each shone in his mind with their own personal radiance, each hums with their own recognizable vibration. As with the diamond-bright midnight sky of Middle Earth, he has never felt truly alone. Always there has been that connection there.
Brightest and most beautiful of all for Aulë has been the light of Yavanna. Now as he runs-- long, well-muscled legs covering the ground in easy rapid strides-- he searches for that light. "Yavanna!" he calls into his consciousness, but there is nothing but echoing silence. The place in his mind where her light has always shone is nothing but a dull flat blackness. "Yavanna!" his cry echoes through his mind, vibrating with an increasing desperation. To not see her light, to not "feel" her there wrenches at him; a physical pain far worse than the protest of muscles pushed beyond endurance in his haste to reach her palace. His lungs burn with their need for oxygen, his breath rasping hoarsely, as he forces this physical body to his will, but it as nothing to the pain of her absence from his awareness.
He trips and stumbles painfully. His legs, rubbery with exhaustion, are barely able to stop him from falling. So preoccupied has he been searching his consciousness for her he has not noticed that for some time now he has been running through her realm, the Pastures of Yavanna, until his feet trip on the first step of her palace. Now as he catches his balance, he surrenders to the needs of his body and stands, hands on knees, half bent, with mouth open as he gasps for breath. He stares down at the inlaid marble between his feet, feet covered in dust from his rapid journey. A half-hearted rueful smile curls his lips as he mutters, "Well, you certainly know how to present yourself in such a manner to impress a lover." The smile fades from his face, for he knows it will take far more than clean feet to mend what he must mend.
His breathing more steady now, although tremors still run through the tortured muscles of his legs, he straightens at last and looks about him, seeking the comforting sight of home - her home, yes-- but where she abides is always home to him. The small light of pleasure that had begun to shine in his eyes at the prospect of home dies stillborn as he gazes upon her gardens. Wizened, yellow and dead now stood where once had been verdant and lush. Mighty trees that have stood tall and majestic through all the Ages were now leafless, their bare branches clawing blindly at the sky; some with the stark raw wounds where branches have broken and fallen. The elegant terraced gardens are lifeless and brown. Shrubs and plants that have bloomed eternally are nothing but husks, fallen and broken, so dried and lifeless as to be unable to support their dead weight.
With growing horror Aulë turns to see the beautiful ivy that drapes the palace is nothing more than a shriveled web of brittle twigs. A last surviving withered leaf drops and falls as he watches, joining a myriad of others that litter the once immaculate marble entrance. Beyond he can see the magnificent oak on the upper terrace. How he had teased her when first she had planted it there, saying they would find acorns in their supper one day, while secretly he had been pleased at her vision. Together they had watched the seedling grow and flourish until its spreading branches had stood like a dense green crown over her palace, branches that were now dead and broken, one limb lying shattered against the marble colonnade.
"Yavanna!" This time his cry is ragged and urgent as he forces his still protesting legs to carry him up the steps and into the palace. "Yavanna!" His call echoes around the empty rooms as he searches for her. "By Eru, what's happened here?" he mutters under his breath as he finds nothing but silence and decay. Where are her Maiar? Surely they would know. But the palace is still and silent. Standing on the upper terrace, having searched every room, Aulë looks down upon the devastation around him. Life, there is no life here at all. Nothing stirs. No birds sing in the bleached gardens. No small things scurry in the now dead forests. No one stirs in the palace. Aulë is quite alone.
Again he reaches out with his consciousness, feeling for her, but all he feels is a sense of despair. Looking around him he cannot tell if it comes from the air around him or inside his own heart. He reaches again for her and again there is utter silence. Yavanna is gone. She is utterly gone. He fights the urge to fall to his knees and howl like a babe as the realization washes over him. "No!"Tthe cry is wrenched from his throat. No! She cannot be gone! He would find her. He MUST find her!