103: The Making of the Great Lights and Other Matters

The Elves did not remain long afterwards. Intarion made a point of speaking to Lord Manwë about the state of things in the Southern Fiefdoms which Lirulin had found on her fact-finding mission and the Elder King assured him that the Valar were aware of what was happening.

"We hope to address that problem shortly," he said to Intarion, "but I thank you for bringing it to our attention. We already have our Maiar looking into it and they are working to alleviate the situation as best they can."

Intarion thanked him and shortly thereafter Lord Manwë dismissed them with a final word of parting for each of them. "Olwë, do not hate us too much," he said with genuine sorrow in his eyes. "You will never fully comprehend the depth of grief we have felt for your loss, for all that has been lost. The decision to stay our hand was not lightly or capriciously made. I hope someday you will come to appreciate that."

Olwë said nothing, but gave the Vala a bow in acquiescence. Then Manwë turned to Eärwen. "My dear, you have held up bravely through all of this. I ask that you continue doing so for a little while longer. You are a credit to all of Elvenkind and I know Arafinwë is very proud of you and counts the days when he can return to your loving embrace."

"How long....?"

"That is unclear," Manwë said with a shake of his head. "There is something Arafinwë must do before he can take up the mantle of kingship, but he will, I promise you. In the time in which he has spent with us, he has learned the things he has needed to in order to be the king the Noldor, nay, all of Aman, needs."

"Thank you," Eärwen said meekly, blushing slightly.

Manwë nodded and then turned his attention to Intarion. "If you will heed my words, Intarion, stay with Ingwion, for I think he will need your help."

"I was planning to join Lirulin in taking Cemendil to Lórien," Intarion replied with a frown.

"That, of course, is your choice," Manwë said, "but I think Ingwion could use your help more."

"I would welcome your presence, Cousin," Ingwion said with a smile.

Intarion nodded but said nothing, looking somewhat troubled. Manwë seemed to perceive his thoughts, for when he spoke, it was with great gentleness. "Do not be overly grieved that you failed in your mission to convince Findaráto to turn back, Intarion. It was not meant to be."

"You know about that, lord?" Intarion asked in surprise.

"Yes. We are not as unaware of events as you all think we are," Manwë replied wryly. "We knew of your quest, my son, and we knew you would fail. Findaráto’s destiny lies elsewhere than in Aman. Even if you had succeeded in speaking with him, he would not have listened. Do not think, though, that your efforts go unappreciated. You and Lirulin are to be commended for your love and loyalty and willingness to endure hardship for the sake of others. You have nothing for which you need be ashamed."

Intarion gave the Elder King a bow and thanked him for his words, and though he still did not feel he had done all he could have to save his young cousin from himself, he felt better for the Vala’s words. Then Manwë turned to Ingwion.

"I am glad you have decided to remain in Eldamas for the time being," he said. "I do not think you will regret it."

"I chafe at the thought of doing nothing, though," Ingwion admitted with a slight scowl.

"I know, but sometimes doing nothing is the wisest course to follow," Manwë said sympathetically. "However, doing nothing and remaining put are not necessarily the same thing. You should occupy your time in speaking with those who saw Ingwë last before he left Eldamas. They may offer you clues as to what may have happened to him."

Ingwion raised an eyebrow, his expression thoughtful. "You were one of the last to see him, were you not, lord?"

Manwë smiled. "Perhaps. Ingwë came to the Máhanaxar where we Valar were still in council and gave us his report of the doings in Tirion. Then he took his leave of us and we saw nothing of him after that. We know he returned to the townhouse to retrieve his horse but beyond that we cannot say. It is for you to discover what happened afterwards, if you can."

Ingwion sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It’s not just Atar for whom I fear, though. Ammë and Ingil and Indil are in Ingoldo’s hands and I dread to think what is happening to them."

"They are presently unharmed," Manwë told him. "Again, it is for you and your friends to effect a rescue, but you would do better to find Ingwë first if you hope to succeed in retaking the city."

"And you will just sit back and watch us succeed or fail and do nothing," Ingwion could not help saying in retort.

Manwë sighed. "I never said we would do nothing, child. I said we would not interfere with events as they unfold. Some things must be allowed, for they are natural consequences of other people’s free will choices. To do what you wish for us to do is to abrogate those free will choices, including yours, I might add. In this, we cannot play favorites."

Ingwion sighed again and nodded reluctantly. Oromë stepped forward and placed a hand on the ellon’s shoulder. "Remain in Eldamas until the time is meet and I will join you when you are ready to look for Ingwë."

"How will I know when it is right for me to leave, though?" Ingwion asked.

"You will know, I promise," the Lord of Forests replied.

"And Ingwion," Námo said, "keep in mind that some things are beyond your ability to control and sometimes, no matter what you do, things do not turn out as planned."

Ingwion frowned, not sure what the Lord of Mandos meant, but he nodded anyway and then they were all making their obeisance to the Valar as Manwë intoned a blessing upon them. Sáyandilmë escorted the Elves out, leaving the Valar alone.

Manwë gave Námo a considering look. "Your words to Ingwion sounded... ominous. Is there something you know that we should know as well?"

Námo gave Manwë a slight smile. "There are many things that I know that you do not, Manwë, for Atar wills it so. Suffice to say that I was merely giving Ingwion sound advice. We all know that some things are outside even our purview to control and we have all experienced things going not as planned. I certainly have. I just wished to make sure Ingwion was aware of this, for things can go wrong however much we may wish it otherwise. Melkor’s destruction of the Trees is a good example."

The others sighed in acknowledgment of this. Manwë gave Námo a considering look. "Have you ever considered taking Ingwion as your apprentice?"

Námo raised an eyebrow at that. "Why would I wish to do that?" he asked.

"We have all taken apprentices among the Children at one point or another, even Vairë and Nienna," Manwë replied. "Don’t you think it’s about time you did as well?"

Námo shrugged. "And what would I be teaching the son of Ingwë? How to greet the fëar of the Elves who are even now coming to me?" he retorted.

"You are one of our greatest strategists, Námo," Oromë said before Manwë could reply. "You could teach him what he needs to know to be a good leader and commander. It’s clear that Ingwë has been lax in that regard, even as Finwë was with respect to his younger sons."

"You could take both of Ingwë’s sons under your tutelage," Manwë said, "for I do not think it fair to single out Ingwion for such and not allow Ingalaurë the benefit of your knowledge."

Námo shook his head. "I’m afraid that I will be apprenticing Ingalaurë in a different manner soon enough."

There was a moment of disbelieving silence among them. Manwë’s expression was particularly troubled, for he was greatly fond of the ellon, of all of Ingwë and Elindis’ children, but he had a soft spot for Ingalaurë and it grieved him to think that soon the child would be in Mandos, though he knew it would be but a temporary severance.

"How soon?" he asked.

Námo shrugged. "Soon enough, and nothing of this is set in stone, as well you know," he replied. "There are other factors at play and the course of history may change."

"But you do not believe that in this case," Manwë stated.

The Lord of Mandos sighed, looking troubled. "No. I do not. I fear that it is Ingalaurë’s destiny to spend time in my demesne where I and my Maiar will watch over his fëa and teach him other things besides strategy and leadership."

"How....?" Manwë started to ask but then shook his head. "No. In this case, I prefer not to know in advance."

"Nor would I have told you," Námo said sympathetically. "Let us put aside the question of my taking on an apprentice for now, if you will, Manwë. We have more important matters to deal with at this time."

Manwë nodded in agreement and turned to Nienna. "How soon do you think Arafinwë will be ready to join Ingwion?"

Nienna shook her head. "That’s hard to say," she answered. "He’s recovered from his injuries and is presently repairing the damage to the cottage. I think once he has completed the repairs we should send him on his way."

"Yet will we send him as Arafinwë or Pityahuan?" Námo asked. "To my mind, he is still too accepting of his lot. His little rebellions, amusing as they have been, have not been enough."

"He needs to show us that he wants that damnable collar removed," Aulë said, nodding in agreement.

"But we haven’t much time," Oromë stated.

"There may be a way," Irmo said, looking thoughtful.

"What way is that?" Manwë asked.

"We give him a true dream," Irmo replied. "We set up a scenario and let him do in the dream what he would do in reality. We can control the parameters, so that while within the dream days appear to go by, in reality perhaps only an hour or so will have passed."

"What dream would you give him?" Námo asked.

"Hmmm.... he was trying to make his way to Valmar after he inadvertently set fire to the cottage. I think this time we should let him reach Valmar and see what he does."

There was a moment or two of silence as the Valar contemplated Irmo’s suggestion and then Manwë nodded. "Let us do this then. Irmo, you and Námo set up the parameters of the dream. How much work does he have left to do on the cottage, Nienna?"

"He just has to finish painting the trim," Nienna answered.

"Then, as soon as he has done that we will implement Irmo’s dream and see what happens," Manwë said and everyone nodded in agreement. "Now, how are the plans for creating a star for this system coming along?" He then asked, looking at Varda and Yavanna.

"We did not think there was any life left in either Tree," Yavanna answered, "for I sang before them for the longest time and despaired, but even as I was about to give up, Telperion yielded a single flower and Laurelin gave forth one last fruit. It is not much but it is all that we have to work with."

"My people and I have constructed vessels to hold them and preserve their radiance," Aulë said, "until such time as Varda is ready to use them in creating the star and the satellite."

"Show me," Manwë ordered.

Aulë nodded and instantly two round globes appeared before them, floating in the air. The larger of the globes was wrought in a lattice frame of white-gold with diamond panels while the smaller one was similarly made of silver and crystal. Manwë stood and, raising his hands in benediction, blessed them and hallowed them, much as had been done with the Silmarils, so that no evil might touch this last fruit and flower of the Trees.

"Behold," Manwë declared, "this is now our third essay to bring light into dark places, and both the Lamps and the Trees Melkor has brought to ruin. Let us hope that this time our Fallen Brother will have no power for ill to destroy these two vessels."

"Though I doubt it will not be for lack of trying," Námo added sardonically as Aulë sent the blazing vessels back to where they were being kept with a single thought.

"We must choose wisely among our people who will guard these vessels," Varda suggested.

"Do you think they will need guarding?" Yavanna asked, looking troubled.

"How many stars has Melkor deliberately destroyed?" Varda retorted, her eyes full of ancient grief at the memory of stars going nova before their appointed time.

"Then we must make sure that will not happen here," Manwë said firmly. "Though certainly the star will have a predetermined life span."

Varda nodded. "Given the parameters that Aulë and I have set up for the star, it will eventually become a red giant and whatever life exists here will be consumed by its expansion, but that will not happen for at least several aeons from now."

"The tricky part is going to be removing the black hole and replacing it with the star," Aulë said. "The mathematics are rather complex and I want to make sure there are no errors in my calculations before we attempt this. It will involve massive coordination between us and our people."

"Perhaps we should plan to have the smaller vessel launched first," Vána suggested. "It needs only to be placed in a proper orbit around Arda."

"And it would be fitting, don’t you think?" Námo said with a nod. "As Telperion was the first of the Trees to shed his light upon Valinor, let his last flower be the first to shed light on all of Arda."

The other Valar murmured their agreement with this plan.

"I think Tilion might be willing to serve as guardian for Telperion’s last Child," Oromë then said, naming one of his Hunters. "He has ever loved going to Lórien when in need of rest and lying in dream by Estë’s pools when Telperion was in full flower."

"And I will ask Arien to guard Laurelin’s Child," Varda announced. "I promised myself that when the time came I would reward her for her diligence in tending the star that we created for the flat Arda. She was absolutely devastated when it was destroyed."

"Then, let us launch Telperion’s Child first," Manwë said.

"And by my counsel," Estë suggested, "let us not launch Laurelin’s Child too soon afterwards, but allow a time for the inhabitants of the Outer Lands to become used to the greater light, for it will be a wonder to them who have never known the light of the Trees."

Everyone nodded. "And," Varda added, "we can arrange it so that neither light is in the skies at the same time, but as one is setting, the other is rising so we can enjoy the mingling of their lights as we did when the Trees were alive."

"The planet is rotating so that both star and satellite will rise from the west," Aulë said. "For reasons I have never understood, when we created this planet we set its rotation counter to those of the other planets."

"Does it matter?" Nessa asked with a shrug. "So here the star will appear to rise in the west and on the other planets in the east. What of it?"

"Nothing," Aulë said with a slight grin at the Valië’s confusion. "I suppose it’s the scientist in me, wanting everything to be nice and orderly and all the planets going in the same direction."

"We’ll discuss that at some other time," Manwë said with a knowing grin. "I think it’s a little late to change directions now, especially with the Children present. The change in rotation would cause great floods and earthquakes."

"We could always place them in stasis for the time it would take to make the change, so they will never know what had happened," suggested Varda.

"As I said, a discussion for another time," Manwë responded, and such was his tone that they dropped the subject and went on to speak of other matters concerning the logistics of creating an appropriate satellite and star for Arda.

****

Later, Námo was wandering through the gardens surrounding his and Vairë’s mansion, where they overlooked the Ezellohar and the Máhanaxar, admiring the night-blooming jasmine that Yavanna had given him to plant. She had created the flower and others like it when the Trees died and had gifted her creations to each of the other Valar. "So we have something that naturally blooms in the dark to enjoy," she had told them. Now, Námo was pleased to see that the jasmine had taken root and was flourishing. He was contemplating transplanting some to grace the gardens around Mandos when he sensed the presence of his sister nearby, which surprised him, for she was unclad, a rarity for them now that the Children were amongst them. With a single thought he shed his fana, his deep purple aura shining through the night.

*Sister, what ails thee?* he sent to her.

For a long moment Nienna did not respond and Námo even wondered if she had closed herself to all thought-sendings. He also noticed that her aura seemed dimmer, less vibrant than it usually was, the calm deep blue now looking dull, as if all the color was being leached out. He had never seen her like this, not even when they were battling Melkor in ages long past and all looked hopeless for them.

*Sister?* he sent to her, somewhat hesitantly. In many ways, he was more powerful than Nienna, but she was still his older sister in Atar’s Thought, the one who guided him in his early existence, and he had always looked up to her.

*It’s all right, Námo,* Nienna said.

Námo took that as an invitation and soon joined her on the Mound of the Trees. He hesitantly wrapped his aura around hers in an electromagnetic hug, not sure if she would welcome such familiarity even from her own brother, but she did not refuse his embrace.

*What is it, Nienna?* he asked again. *Thine aura is nearly as grey as the raiment that thou dost normally put on when thou art clad. Why art thou unclad now?*

*When I am clad in fana, the grief is too great for me to contain and I find myself weeping,* she replied. *Unclad, I cannot weep, though my fëa still is burdened with sorrow. I fear the loss of the Trees hath hit me harder than I first thought.*

Námo gave a mental sigh and wrapped himself more firmly around his sister, lending her his strength. *I know thou didst not endure the Music to the end,* he said gently, *yet I have always thought of thee as strong.*

*I do not weep for myself, as thou dost know,* she said, *but sometimes the burden of grief becomes too great for me. I do not know why Atar made me thus.*

*To teach the Children pity,* Námo said with great assurance. *To teach them endurance in hope and the wisdom that comes from it.*

*I have had little to do with the Children, except for one or two and then only briefly,* she said. Then her aura brightened in amusement. *Arafinwë is a prime example of why I don’t invite them to my home very often.*

Námo laughed, giving his sister a warm hug. *Come with me,* he said. *Come with me to Mandos and see the Children there. Some of them are awake now, those who came to me in earlier times. I think thou wilt find that in interacting with them thine own burdens will be lifted for a time.*

For a moment Nienna did not answer, but then she gave the electromagnetic version of a nod. *I would like that,* she said simply, and with a single thought, brother and sister made their way to Mandos, leaving the Trees and all that they represented behind.

****

Notes:

1. Varda’s mention of the flat Arda and what became of it is chronicled in my tale The Wars of the Valar.

2. Lynda wondered if Nienna, who helps Námo to console the fëar of those in Mandos, ever needed consoling herself. I promised her I would address that question in one of my stories, and I thought this was as good a place as any. Thanks, Lynda, for the suggestion.

3. While mythologically we can have separate lights for the Sun and Moon, most people would say that, scientifically speaking, that is impossible. Yet, consider the following:

‘Before we had an understanding of the quantum nature of the universe we could so easily think of the Moon as just this object in the sky. Its light was thought of as just the light from the Sun that had been reflected our way. And of course there’s some truth here, for if the Sun were suddenly to go dark then the Moon would go dark. But there is another and more subtle quantum sense in which the Moon is not just an object and its light is not just reflected from the Sun....

The Moon is not a dead object, but is instead an ongoing scintillating event....it is false to think of photons as "bouncing" the way a ball would bounce when thrown against a wall. Instead, the photons from the Sun "interact" with the particles of the Moon. As with every interaction at the quantum level of reality the process of this interaction begins with the annihilation of the particles as they are absorbed into the all-nourishing abyss and is followed by the creation of a new set of particles. If this new set contains any photons, these photons are new. They did not exist in the previous instant but, rather, came forth out of the annihilating event of the interaction.

Thus, it is not true to say that the photons of light arriving here from the Moon have just been bounced from the Sun. Moonlight comes from the Moon, for moonlight is created by the Moon.’ — Brian Swimme, The Hidden Heart of the Cosmos: Humanity and the New Story (Orbis Books, 1996)