Seeking the Counsel of Manwe

Played by:
AelKennyr Rhiano
Rhun Rhiano
Shawn Daysleeper



Aule's leather sandals whisper softly against the polished stone floor of the corridor, for all that his is a tall and heavy form.  The lightness of his step speaks of both strength and urgency.  Walls of the finest stone and marble pass by him, but for once the Maker is oblivious to the beauty of the stone or the skill of the artisans.  He casts a sidelong glance at his companion.  Eonwe!  His memories of their confrontations in the depths of Mandos are vivid. Yet here they stride together, urgently seeking the counsel of the Breath of Arda.

He casts a sidelong glance at his companion

Manwe rests upon the seat of Taniquetil, at the top of the Holy Mountain of Aman straddling the Girdle of Arda. He reflects on the events that occurred in the Chambers of Melkor. "All of this happening, under my very nose!" How did all of this escape his vision? Have the long passing ages of Ea stunted his ability to see the every angle of the world? In a frustrated breath he calls to the air element, for he is it's master. With nothing but a thought the air of the empty hall swirls about him, weaving around the statues around the room's circumference. The excited air causes the flame before him to rise, illuminating his face and all in a blaze. With a slight motion of his hand, the wind ceases. As all falls still he hears the footsteps of ones approaching from the corridor. He quickly subdues and hides his frustration, seeking not to show any weakness to his brethren.

He reflects on events..

Together they walk, the soft slap of leather in tempo with the louder, firm claps of well worn boots, lovingly polished to a high shine. The cloak worn by the Herald of Manwe swirls and swishes with each step, fanning the cool air of the hallway.  Blue eyes the color of glittering gems sweep from side to side but remain fixed ahead of them as shoulder to shoulder with Aule, Eonwe walks down the curving corridor that opens into the throne room of the Mighty Lord of the West.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the visage of the Smith, the dark, unruly hair sweeping about him like a living mantle.  He starts to speak, to tell the Vala beside him that Manwe is present, but stops, for like him, the Smith would surely already feel the comforting presence.  All the Ainur shine bright, like stars in the undying twilight sky above them, fixtures in the firmament of their minds, their beings...All but one.  All but one.

He starts to speak.. 

Aule rounds the final curve on the corridor, and, as always, stops in awe as he gazes upon the throne room of Manwe Sulimo, the very Breath of Arda. The ceiling of blue marble cunningly wrought and lit to look like clouds scudding across the sky soars above the curving beauty of the interior.  Nine giant thrones of the Aratar are arranged in a majestic semi-circle on a raised dias.  All the thrones are occupied by an equally larger than life stylized representation of the Aratar.  All but one.  Aule swallows hard.  "Please Eru, let there not be yet another seat become vacant," he prays silently to the One above them all, for one of these images is for Yavanna, his wife.  Yavanna who cannot be found.  Desperately his eyes seek and find Manwe, seated up his throne.  He must be able to help.  He must!

...the throne room of Manwe Sulimo

Manwe looks up at the two that come before him. Eonwe! Eonwe has come, and he stands beside Aule. It was not long ago they lived in despise of each other. That was when they were under the influence of the black magic of Melkor. Now, with Eonwe cured and whole again, he feels better. The Breath of Arda remembers the days when Eonwe was sent away, he pushes those memories aside as his Herald stands before him. Rising, he asks, "Eonwe, my Herald, and the Maker, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Eonwe!

Eonwe checks himself, coming to a stop a step ahead of the Smith of Arda and turning back to look at Aule, puzzled, until he follows the Smith's gaze. Behind the throne of the West, ringed round in a semicircle and seated upon giant, imposing thrones of gold are faceless seated statues, representing the Arator, the mightiest of all the Vala.  One of those faceless forms represents Aule and another Yavanna.  There amongst the statues one throne sits vacant, for the statue representing Melkor was long ago destroyed, the throne all that stands in testimony to his place among the mighty.  Eowne stretches out a hand, almost touching the arm of the Smith, and then lets it drop slowly.  His blue eyes soften as he studies the Vala, and his own heart feels heavy, leaden.

"Eonwe, my herald," calls Manwe, and like a sunflower turning its face to the sun, Eonwe turns around to face the Lord of the West. Despite the grim reason for their presence, tha Maia's heart leaps at Manwe's voice.  Eyes shining, Eonwe steps forward, his footsteps all the lighter for being in the presence of his Lord, his heart, though still troubled, stills and quiets. Coming up to the eternal flame, symbol of the Imperishable Flame, Eonwe drops to one knee. "My Lord Manwe, " he says, and his voice, from long centuries of serving in that hall, rises like incense filling the chamber. "My Lord, the Lord Aule comes before you and seeks urgent audience with the Breath of Arda. Please, my Lord, it is of great urgency. May the Maker step forward?"

".. it is of great urgency...

The Maker of Arda is not one who is familiar with feeling helpless.  Through his might and power, his skill and craft he had shaped the very lands of the world.  His hands had formed the sweeping gentle curve of valley, the majestic ragged peaks and the wide flowing plains.  Yet now he stands in this room, a room he had frequented often over the ages, and feels like a child waken by nightmares and seeking reassurance from a loving parent, so small and helpless does he feel.  He watches as Eonwe steps forward and addresses the Lord of the West, and is humbled that by the sincere concern in the Maia's voice as he addresses his Lord.  The affairs that concern Mawne are vast and heavy, Aule knows.  Will he have time for the Maker?  Will he know how to help?  Anxiously, Aule awaits upon his reply. 

.. so small and helpless did he feel.

Manwe listens to his Herald's plea and motions him to rise. He studies the Maker a moment, seeing him standing further away, as if laden with a heavy burden. He wonders what could have brought him to his halls. It touches him to see that Eonwe himself accompanies the Maker in this task, and  that the Herald requests the Lord of Arda's assistance. It pleases him to see these once hostile beings have come together into his presence. "Please, Maker, I stand here now, and I listen to what you have to say. For do you remember my promise I made to you in the caverns of Mandos that I will listen to your concerns?"