"I Cannot Find Her!"

Played by:
AelKennyr Rhiano
Rhun Rhiano
Shawn Daysleeper


Aule's feet carry him rapidly across the polished marble floor of the throne room, his heart leaping with hope at Manwe's words.  Surely, surely the Lord of the West will be able to help.  He MUST be able to help.  His strides carry him past the eternal flame until he stands beside the bowed form of the Maiar. He stands then respectfully at the base of the stairs to the throne and lifts his dark, troubled eyes to those of the Lord of the Breath of Arda.  "I.. I cannot find her!" He blurts out, unable to think of a diplomatic way to express his concerns. "I have searched the length and breadth of our lands and I cannot find her!"

'...I cannot find her!'

Gracefully the Mightiest in Arms rises to his feet, the soft creak of leather, the smell a comforting one to his nostrils, mingles with the soft swish of his voluminous robes.  His blue eyes, ever sharp, rise to rest upon the face of the Lord of the West, the coolness of the throne room of Manwe cooling his cheek in a soft kiss, the air filled with all the soft sounds and smells from across the face of the world of the Children of Eru.  Behind the Breath of  Arda, the flat round palantir is affixed to Manwe's mighty throne, and the quiet universe revealed in it moves in an orderly, tranquil, endless progress. He takes a step forward, towards the Lord Manwe, and instead contents himself with a side step closer to the Smith of Arda.   He turns his head sightly toward the Smith of Arda, and cocks his head as he listens to the words.  Quietly he closes his eyes briefly, and stills his inner turmoil.  All the brilliant essences of all the Valar, all the Ainur, all are there just within his ethereal reach, all but one. Where, where was the Giver of Fruits?  Where was Yavanna?

Where was Yavanna?

Manwe looks upon the Smith in genuine attention. He had resolved to assist the troubled Vala, but this request puzzles him. "Cannot find her?" Manwe asks in a perplexed tone. He looks at Eonwe, seeking any sigh of confirmation as to who specifically he is seeking. He wishes not to reveal to the Maker or his trusted Herald his slow decay of foresight, or the weariness of the ages. "Who, what do you mean? How can I help?"

"Cannot find her?"

Aule strides forward unbidden, in his agitation. and takes Manwe's forearm.  "Yavanna!" The name is painful upon his tongue. "Surely you have noticed her absence.  Or is it only I that she hides her presence from?  I cannot find Yavanna anywhere, nor.. " his voice breaks slightly at this confession and he pauses and takes a breath, the next works coming out gustily as he exhales, "nor can I sense her.  She is gone."

'...She is gone.'

A soft gasp escapes the Herald, and the face, normally placid, devoid of personal emotions, betrays the inner turmoil the words of the Lord of the West cause within him.  "Who?" asks Manwe.  His blue eyes grow round, as he watches the Smith ascend the stairs and face Manwe. Quickly, with the fluid strides of a warrior, Eonwe follows the Maker and comes up to his side.  He reaches out a hand and stops just short of touching his Lord. He watches as Aule takes  Manwe's arm, and without thought, the Herald reaches out and lays his hand atop the Smith's forearm, his blue eyes seeking out the gaze of the Smith, and he gives a barely discernible shake of his head. Turning back to Lord Manwe, he bows his head, "I cannot sense her either, my Lord? Please, Lord Manwe, your wise and far-seeing guidance is needed."

Manwe feels a rush within him. He is taken aback by showing his weakness. Swiftly he lifts his hand before Eonwe with a slight facial glance. He predicted his Herald's reaction before it came, as Eonwe is, indeed, very wise of change. He has served the Breath of Arda for many of the long years of the existence of Ea. "Nothing is amiss," he whispers back, in a way conveying that this discussion is now finished. "Yavanna," he says much louder so that Aule can hear. He closes his eyes in thought a moment. "I do not sense her presence," he then says. "This is, indeed, concerning. I must commune further on this matter."

"...I must commune further on this matter."

Aule glances at Eonwe as he feels his hand atop his, noting the slight shake of the head, and he looks down at where he has hold of Manwe's arm, his long, strong fingers clutching the fabric of his garment tightly. He had not even been aware he had laid hands upon the Lord of the West such was his agitation.  He begins to uncurl his fingers, but then the movement is arrested as he hears Manwe's words.  "Concerning?  My wife, one of the Aratar has utterly disappeared and you want to 'commune?"  His voice is rising as he speaks, driven by his worry.  Rather than releasing his hold, he now shakes Manwe's arm. "Is THIS what your promise is worth?  Milksop words and no action? Something must be done.  You MUST do something!"

A frown crosses the face of the Maia, and he turns his body  to face the Smith and takes a step  that puts his Lord behind him. His hand tightens upon the forearm of Aule, and blue eyes turn steely as he lifts his chin and speaks in a voice deadly calm to the Vala, forgetting all else but that his Lord had been seized upon so. "My Lord Aule," he says, "Remember thyself. It is your Lord you have lain hands upon.  No wisdom can be had from rising temper.  Desist, Maker, and let the words of Manwe flow, that we may better understand."

He takes another step, butting his hip against the arm of the Maker. His eyes remain steady, but his voice drops, and the deep richness of his voice becomes warmer and more urgent. "You called me friend but moments past, outside these walls when first I brought unto our Lord. If I am friend now, remember yourself. If your wife, the Beloved Yavanna matters, remember yourself. "  He wills his gaze to penetrate the thickness and heat of the Maker's voice. "Desist, Lord Aule, desist, if naught else but for she whom you despair for."

"Desist, Lord Aule, desist.."

Manwe does not pull his arm back but says in a softer more gentle and emphatic tone to the Maker, "Listen to my explanation. Acting in haste and anger does not lead one on the wise path to solution. I must consult with Eru, Lord of All. Through this communion a path will present itself so that I can find your wife. This I make my priority. So may I suggest you accompany Eonwe for a time, and allow me to do this. I will summon you both before me once I derive our course of action. For finding your wife will involve you, dear Maker, foremost of all."

Aule shakes his head as though waking from a daze and stares into the steel blue eyes of the Maiar beside him.  There was another time, not so long ago where those eyes had looked at him with scorn and wrath. Now, though, he sees nothing there but a need to both protect his Lord, and something else.  Could it be the Herald of Manwe felt concern for him?  For Yavanna, definitely, but for he, Aule, too?  Aule takes a deep breath and releases his hold upon Manwe, letting his hand drop listlessly to his side, and with the gesture all fight seems to leave him.  His shoulders slump and his chin drops, fully expecting justified wrath from his Lord for his impetuous actions.   But wait, what was this?

Aule lifts his head and stares at Manwe as he takes in his gentle words.  His dark eyes flood with relief, and he bows his head humbly as he speaks. "I forgot myself, my Lord.  I humbly ask your forgiveness.  You asked me once to trust you just as you gave your trust unto me, and poorly this day have I returned it.  As you will, so shall it be.  I shall await upon your summons."

Slowly, Eonwe takes in a breath. The Maia needs no breath, but the physical body with which he has clothed himself does. As he draws in the breath, he feels how he had tensed his muscles, how prepared he was to wrestle with the Smith in defense of his Lord, and now he relaxes his stance, allowing a glint of relief that it had not come to that to flow into his gaze and in his rich voice as he steps aside. "I shall gladly do my Lord's bidding and take you where you may rest and refresh, my Lord. If you will grace the humble home of a Maia, I should serve you myself and be boon companion until my Lord should summon me  from your side or else call you to his."

He glances over to Lord Manwe and gives a small bow of his head, the earlier look given to the Herald by the Lord of the West not lost upon him, even as he moved to defend his sovereign Lord.  "Your wisdom is our guide, my Lord, "he says, his voice reverent. "I am ever thy Herald, my Lord, and thy word is my will."

He steps back and gestures to the Maker of Arda. "My Lord, pray lead, and I shall follow. We must leave the Breath of Arda to know the Mind of Eru."