Sun-in-Eclipse

Summary: When the first solar eclipse occurs, the Valar must decide how to explain it to the Elves. Written for the ALEC challenge ‘Sun and Moon’, for which it won second place (tied with Larner).

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‘But Tilion went with uncertain pace, as yet he goes, and was still drawn towards Arien, as he shall ever be;... it will chance that he comes so nigh that his shadow cuts off her brightness and there is darkness amid the day.’ — ‘Of the Sun and the Moon and the Hiding of Valinor’, Silmarillion

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“They will think it is a sign,” Námo said to the other Valar foregathering at the mansion of the Lord of Mandos and his Spouse in Valmar. The Valar were sitting under an arbor in the garden overlooking the Ezellohar and the Máhanaxar, taking their ease on this Valanya, listening to the sound of the bells of the Mindon Nyellion wafting through the air as they sipped on miruvórë. The weekly audience in Ilmarin with Ingwë and his family was over and, as was their custom, they had come to Valmar to spend the rest of the day. They took turns hosting each other and this week it was Námo and Vairë’s turn.

Manwë gave him a slight smile. “Perhaps it is,” he said teasingly.

“A sign of what though?” Oromë asked.

“A sign of our displeasure, perhaps,” Námo ventured with a shrug, “or a sign of Melkor’s victory over their kin in Endórë. Who knows?”

“Well, if the latter, it would only be a temporary victory,” Nienna said with a snort.

“It’s a natural astronomical phenomenon,” Aulë said dismissively. “It was bound to happen, given the parameters we gave to Isil’s orbit.”

“Yes, yes, but they don’t know that,” Námo replied. “So, what do we do about it?”

“Do?” Tulkas asked, giving his brother Vala a puzzled look. “What do you mean? We’re not going to change the orbit to prevent it, are we?”

“No, Tulkas,” Námo said with a laugh. “That’s not what I meant. I meant how do we prepare the Children for this.”

“Should we even bother?” Nessa said with a shrug. “Should we not allow them to come to conclusions on their own?”

“They’ll come running to us for answers, regardless,” Varda said with a knowing smile.

“Perhaps Aulë or Ulmo can quench their curiosity by boring them with the mathematics and physics of celestial orbits that will occasionally cause Isil to eclipse Anar,” Oromë said.

There were sniggers all around. “I can just see their eyes glazing over as Aulë expounds on the subject with his usual enthusiasm,” Námo said, giving Aulë a wink.

“You know they are not quite ready for that,” Yavanna replied, giving her husband a fond smile.

Aulë’s expression was sheepish. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

Now there was actual laughter. “Even my eyes would glaze over,” Manwë exclaimed, “and I actually know what you’re talking about.”

Aulë made a rude sound, sticking his tongue out at the Elder King, which set them laughing again.

“Getting back to the subject at hand, though,” Námo said once they calmed down, “you know there will be panic in the streets of Eldamar. The Children have just gotten used to having the ‘Great Lights’ as they call them, and if, even for a few minutes, Anar’s light is darkened, they will wonder at it and fear the worst, thinking that Darkness has once again conquered the Light.”

The others nodded. “True,” said Ulmo, “and we should alert the Maiar to stand ready to quell any real panic, but I truly do not see what else we can do. To go and explain to them what will happen beforehand will most likely confuse them, yet to wait until afterwards may cause many to lose faith in us, thinking our powers have grown so weak that we can no longer control our own People.”

“Tilion and Arien would find it amusing to think so,” Oromë said with a grin and Vána nodded, equally amused, for the two held the allegiances of those particular Maiar.

“Or even worse,” Irmo stated, “believe that we no longer have the strength to keep the Darkness at bay.”

“It is a sticky situation, to be sure,” Manwë said. “Perhaps we should inform the kings of what will happen and let them decide how to handle it.”

“That might work,” Námo said, giving Manwë a shrewd look. “Perhaps the two of us....”

Manwë nodded. “It is time, I think, to reveal to the Children the meaning of your emblem,” he said, pointing at the Sun-in-Eclipse pendant that Námo wore.

Námo smiled. “I know they have long wondered at it, but none have dared to ask me or any of my People about it.”

“And what answer would you have given them if they had?” Vairë asked, giving her husband a knowing look.

Námo chuckled. “I would have given them my gravest Lord-of-Mandos stare and in as cold a tone as I could manage I would have said, ‘Pray, my children, that you will never find out.’”

There was a split second of silence and then laughter rang out, the sound floating up the Landamallë Valion. The Maiar who were tending to their own business paused to listen and smiled at one another.

****

Ingwë frowned at the two Valar, stealing a glance at Arafinwë and Olwë standing on either side of him. Neither of them looked any happier than he felt. “Is this another of those natural consequences,” he asked, “like the waning and waxing of the amount of daylight throughout the year?”

“Exactly like,” Manwë said with a pleased look. “There is naught to fear, but we wanted to alert you three to what will happen so you may prepare your people. We do not want a panic.”

“No, of course not,” Ingwë said with a sigh. He gave the Elder King and Lord Námo a rueful look. “Are there any other such... er... consequences of the creation of Anar and Isil of which we should be aware, my lords?”

*Sunspots? Solar flares?* Námo bespoke to Manwë, keeping his expression neutral.

*Behave!* Manwë shot back, barely able to keep a straight face. He shook his head. “No, Ingwë, there are no other consequences. You have my word.”

The three kings looked a little less worried. Olwë spoke next. “The question is, how do we explain it so it makes sense? Indeed, I’m not really sure I understand it myself.”

Námo pointed to his pendant. “Have you ever wondered at this emblem?” he asked.

“Of course, lord,” Arafinwë answered. “I do not know an Elf who has not. The emblems of the other Valar are recognizable and nameable but yours....” He gave the Vala an apologetic shrug.

Námo nodded. “I know. I have waited for someone brave enough to ask me about it, but so far, none have.”

“Were we supposed to?” Ingwë asked, giving the Valar a worried look.

“No, Ingwë,” Námo said with a gentle smile. “but knowing the inquisitive nature of the Eldar, I thought perhaps someone might at least approach one of my Maiar, if not me. Even Fëanáro never did. At any rate, my emblem is an exact representation of what will happen in a few weeks.” He held the pendant up so the kings could have a closer look. “Tilion will pass directly before Arien, blocking out much of her light save the corona that you see here. We call this phenomenon ‘ithirdushamanúthan’ in Valarin.”

Arafinwë stared at the pendant and frowned in thought. “I watched as you launched Isil and then Anar and I know that Tilion’s vessel is much smaller than Arien’s. How can he block out her light?”

“Ah,” Manwë said with delight. “A most astute question. If you will, my son,” he said to Arafinwë, “hold your hand out at arm’s length with your palm facing me, as if you were bidding me to halt, keeping it before your eyes.” Arafinwë did as the Elder King commanded and Manwë continued. “When you put your hand, which is smaller than my head, in front of you like so, what happens?”

“Certainly a small portion of your face is now blocked,” the Noldóran answered. Ingwë and Olwë copied him and both nodded in agreement with Arafinwë’s words.

“You probably have experienced this in your daily lives without giving it any thought,” Manwë said, “but it is similar to what will happen between Tilion and Arien. Distance is the key.” He gave Arafinwë a nod. “Go over to the door and put your hand up as before. Is my head hidden from your view?”

“Yes, lord,” Arafinwë answered. “Indeed, much of your hröa is blocked from my view.” He lowered his hand and at a gesture from Manwë he returned to stand with his fellow kings.

Manwë nodded. “And so it will be with Arien. Tilion is much closer to Arda than she and thus, when he passes in front of her, it will appear to us who are here as if he is blocking her light even though, as Arafinwë pointed out, Tilion’s vessel is much smaller than Arien’s.”

“And that is all you need to say to your people,” Námo added. “Tilion will pass between us and Arien and it will only seem as if he is swallowing her light. The phenomenon will last only for a few brief moments and then you will see Tilion moving westward again and Arien’s light will shine forth as before.”

The three kings gave each other considering looks. Olwë spoke to Ingwë and Arafinwë. “If we caution our families and our courtiers to maintain a calm front it will go a long way towards keeping the populace from panicking.”

The other two Elves nodded and then Ingwë turned to Námo. “Your emblem has been known to us since we first came to Aman, lord,” he said, “yet only now do we understand its significance. Does this mean that you knew all along that the Two Trees would be destroyed and that Isil and Anar would be created?”

Námo stared at the Elf for some time before answering and Ingwë paled under his regard. “No, Ingwë, I did not know for sure,” he finally said, speaking softly. “When we first created our thrones that form the Máhanaxar, something compelled me to carve on the back of my throne this image. It was something I had seen before in another part of Eä long before Arda was ever brought into existence.”

The three kings gave the Vala looks of surprise. Then Arafinwë’s expression became more thoughtful. “Ithirdu-dusham-dushamanúthan,” he muttered, stuttering over the strange sounds of the Valar’s own language, a language which the Elves had not tried to master.

“The word means ‘overshadowing’,” Manwë said helpfully.

Arafinwë nodded. “Halië, then,” he said with a decisive nod.

“As good a word as any to describe what happens,” Námo said with a shrug.

“I agree,” Manwë said. With that, the audience seemed to be over and the three Elves made their obeisance before being escorted out by Manwë’s Herald, quietly discussing between them how they would handle the news to their people.

“Well, that hopefully solves that problem,” Námo said with a smile. “I wonder how Melyanna will explain the eclipse to the Children in Endórë.”

Manwë gave a snort. “I doubt she will begin teaching them celestial mechanics.”

Námo barked a laugh even as he faded from Manwë’s view.

****

Melian, Maia Queen of Doriath, sighed as she looked upon the stricken faces of the Children who were her subjects. Even her lord husband seemed nonplused as he gazed upward at the sight of Ithil overtaking Anor. How to explain it as simply as possible?

“Ah,” she said brightly, coming to a decision, “Tilion still pines for Arien, I deem. See you how he is drawn to her, his very shadow cutting off her brightness. But I do not think she will let him get too near to her, for look, even now he flees from her wrath. Tilion has ever loved Arien, all know this, but Arien has eyes only for another and she loves Tilion not. Tilion has always been a fool where Arien is concerned.” She shook her head in what she hoped was a believable expression of amusement at the foibles of her fellow Maia.

Those surrounding her and Elu continued staring at the drama unfolding in the heavens above them, quietly commenting to one another on the Queen’s explanation. She watched as Finrod exchanged glances with Galadriel and Celeborn, both of them giving him a shrug, as if unsure how to take her words. Lúthien, she noticed without surprise, was dancing under the eerie shadowy light, apparently unconcerned by the strangeness of the situation. Elu Thingol lowered his gaze from the heavens to frown at his wife, while she plastered an expression of serene indifference on her fair countenance. Then he glanced at Finrod, giving him a questioning look, as if his Noldorin kinsman’s opinion was the only one that mattered.

Finrod glanced pensively at Melian and she suspected that he did not believe a word she had spoken. She gave him a brilliant smile, daring him to contradict her. His eyebrows went up and there was a slightly amused look on his face, as if he recognized the game she was playing, but when he turned to Elu his expression was more sober and he shrugged. “Works for me.”

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All words are Quenya unless otherwise noted.

Ezellohar: The Green Mound of the Two Trees, adopted and adapted from Valarin.

Máhanaxar: Ring of Doom, adopted and adapted from Valarin.

Valanya: ‘Powers-day’, the last day of the six-day week of the Eldarin calendar used in Aman at this time.

Mindon Nyellion: Tower of Bells. They would go silent at the Mingling of the Light of the Trees.

Landamallë Valion: Avenue of the Valar that runs between the mansions of the Elder King and the Lord of Mandos [landa ‘wide’ + mallë ‘street, road’, Vali ‘alternate plural of Vala’ + -on ‘plural genitive suffix’].

Hröa: Body.

Noldóran: King of the Noldor, an attested word.

Ithirdushamanúthan: (Valarin) Literally, ‘Light Marred’, which is the closest I could come to ‘eclipse’, given the few words we have of the Valar’s language. Cf. Atháraphelun Dushamanúthan ‘Arda Marred’. Manwë’s translation is obviously very free.

Halië: ‘The Hiding’ or ‘The Overshadowing’; gerundial form of the verb halya- ‘to veil, conceal, screen (from light), overshadow’. Cf. the adjective. halda ‘veiled, hidden, shadowed’. See ‘Etymologies’, s.v. SKAL-, The Lost Road, HoME V, and Vinyar Tengwar 46, ‘Addenda and Corrigenda to the Etymologies — Part Two’, page 13. ‘Overshadow’ is a synonym of ‘eclipse’, whether as a verb or a noun.