Disclaimer: I don't own anything Tolkien owns and I'm not making any profit
off of this
Summary: Mandos and Ulmo have a talk.
Author's Note: All of the Valar (except Varda) are hardly mentioned at all in many other fics and I think they need more credit. So I come up with my 2nd fic featuring Mandos, but this time with Ulmo. Mandos is quite possibly my favorite character in the 'Silmarillion' and Ulmo is my second (or third) favorite Vala. This fic is based on the 'Silmarillion' so Mandos' sister is Nienna and his wife is Vaire, but the appearance of the Halls are based upon 'Unfinished Tales.'
I think Silpion is Telperion, but I'm not entirely sure. So I used 'Silpion' in this fic as Telperion, please correct me if I'm wrong.
This is what happens when I reread the 'Silmarillion' and start paying attention to small sentences and details and then getting ideas.
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Foretellings, Shadowed
Ulmo, Lord of Waters, was troubled. He was worried; many thoughts occupied his mind, for he worried for all of the Children of Iluvatar. Feanor had left Aman, and he too perished and was currently in the Halls of Mandos. The Second Children would come soon, he could sense it. Morgoth, Melkor, was out in Middle-earth working in the dark of the shadows, devising some new type of devilry.
He loved the Children of Iluvatar, and by no means of will would he ever betray or abandon them. But the Noldor had left of their own free will, and Valinor was shut against them, of which he and many others saddened of hearing and knowing. He still desired to help them, to guide them with his counsels, provide them with knowledge they will need to know.
The River Sirion, his most beloved river east of Aman, runs far and it's tributaries alike, and the branches of water tell him much of the goings of the Elves. He cannot decide what to do, he did not know how to guide the Children. If he so wished he could speak to them through his waters, or so come to them in dreams or illusions through the mist. Or so appear to them, shrouded in the mists of his making and advise them in what ways he so could.
All these he could do, but he did not know how to advise them or what he would reveal to them or tell them. For he did not know if his foresight and own perceivings were correct, or read correctly. He could simply let the Children be, but his mind was restless and would not let him, and neither would his love for them leave them alone, vulnerable to the darks of Melkor.
Coming upon the decision to come to Mandos, Ulmo departed from the deeps of the Sea, where he stayed during contemplation. He rarely ever came before the Elves, and even so with the Valar, save Manwe, and at times he would come to Namo, who is often times called by his halls, Mandos.
Mandos was in his halls, thinking. He was troubled, troubling thoughts had occupied his mind ever since Feanor created the Silmarils, and now his thoughts were ever occupied with dread and death and pain.
He did not truly enjoy judging and housing the houseless souls of the Elves, but he did judge and house their souls. To him, it felt correct, as if he were destined for this. But of course, he was destined and he did judge them in whatever way was given to him through the ways of Iluvatar.
He was currently in bodily form, since he discovered it helped him understand certain things a bit more clearly, for if he became flesh wouldn't he understand better the ways of those created by it. He gazed at one of Vaire's weavings, looking at its intricate design and knowing that it was clearly made with skill.
His wife was called The Weaver, and whatever happens in time her works would show them. But was she just called The Weaver just because of her tapestries? For woven things could represent much, and could say much. But her works were not just woven tapestries and materials taken from the earth so they could be put into his halls, she too wove pictures into one's mind, deep enough to move and trap one's soul.
One could look at the works hung in his halls, made by his wife, and truthfully say that they were amazing, true masterpieces and works of art. But no one could compare Vaire's, or any other of the works of the Valar to the works of Iluvatar. Iluvatar created the Valar, and too created his Children, beautiful and amazing creatures. All of the Valar, agreed upon the same thought.
He went to the center of his halls where the vessel in which some gleaming dews of Silpion were kept, providing the only light in Mandos.
His halls grow every passing year, and the cries of the souls of the dead Elves fill them with more sorrow. He places his hand on one of the black jet columns, the palm of his hand feeling the cool stone. Vapors surrounded his halls, covering the already black floor with dark mists, and creeping up the columns. The vapors touched almost everything, it even touched some of the souls of the Elves, but it did not touch the Elves who were full of hope, and it did not touch the dews of Silpion.
Ulmo came from his waters, drawing near to the Halls of Mandos. Nearing them, he began to feel the gloom that surrounded those halls. The gloom and sorrow was enough to pierce flesh, and enough to pierce the soul. Mandos was a place for souls, tainted and weary souls that have been through much, though some were quite innocent.
Sometimes Ulmo wondered if possibly it seems that the Halls of Mandos are gloomy because of one's thoughts, for the thought of the dead was enough to bring dread and gloom into one's heart. But if one thought of death as something natural and that it was not so terrible then would the halls still feel so dreadful?
Ulmo noticed that the gloom did not pierce him deeply and it but touched him lightly. Why this was so he knew not.
Mandos sensed that someone was approaching his halls and he waited, until Ulmo came.
He saw as the Lord of the Waters came into bodily form, appearing before him.
"Why come you hear Ulmo?" Mandos asked in his quiet voice, being not of many words.
"My mind is troubled, and I believe that you can answer somewhat of them," Ulmo's voice was deep, as the deeps of the Sea of which he is lord.
"Of what would you have me answer," Mandos' dark eyes turned to Ulmo's grey- blue, "for many questions and thoughts are in my mind also."
"Then mayhap we could each answer our questions," Ulmo said.
"What would you ask?" Mandos asked though he knew already. In partial reason was that the thoughts of the Valar were not too often kept from each other and they needn't use words to communicate, and some thoughts were hidden only because they were needed to. As was with at times Manwe would keep hidden, and Mandos would keep often most thoughts to himself.
Ulmo looked at the vessel containing the dews of Silpion, "of the Children."
Mandos followed Ulmo's gaze as he watched the lights of the dew of Silpion play with the dark, causing flickering shadows. "You ask of the Exiled Noldor."
"Yes," Ulmo replied watching the light dance with the shadows, blending and forming a dance. Creating a melody through sight.
"What would you have me tell you?"
"I wish to counsel them, for they now are surrounded by darkness and the ever growing power of Melkor, but I do not know if my perceivings of what is to come is correct. So I ask your counsel or opinion upon these matters. For you see far, and what you perceive could be somewhat different than mine." Ulmo was sure that Mandos would be able to answer his questions, but he did not know if Mandos would answer and reveal subjects that should not be known.
"What did you perceive?" Mandos asked softly,
"That the fate of Arda rests upon the Elves, and when they arrive, the Second Children. I too perceive that all of the Children's fates are bound to the Silmarils, in one way. Am I correct in this, Mandos?"
"You are."
"And yet in what way they are bound, I know not."
"Would it suffice to say that the Second Children are mortal, and therefore will die? Unlike the Firstborn."
"It would not," Ulmo hoped that he would accomplish what he set forth to do, in which he almost always did, almost.
"The fates of Arda are bound to the Silmarils, and try as they might, some of the Children will try to distance themselves to this fate. But through it will their downfall come upon them," Mandos finished.
"Will you not tell me more?" Ulmo desired more information, more knowledge.
"I will not, and I cannot," Mandos replied, though he truly wished that he could confide his worries to his friend. But he could not, for the knowledge was his own, and for him, Iluvatar, and possibly Manwe alone to know.
"Then what of the Silmarils?" Ulmo asked looking down upon the vapor- covered floor. He reached down and tried to trap some within his hand, as he would do with water, but the dark vapor escaped his slightly glowing hand, as if it were fleeing from his light.
"The light will try to trap Melkor, but ever will he escape, fleeing in terror and ever will he try to destroy all that is made by those who rejoice in the Sun and Moon and the Stars. And ever will he try to trap the light, and lead it astray," Mandos said as he watched the Lord of Waters.
Ulmo's hand was still within the vapor, and he noticed that it was not damp. But that it was just there; as if it had no true originated source, and that it came from itself. "Then we too are bound to the Silmarils then?"
"We are and were, ever since we came upon Arda. Through those jewels the fate of many and all are trapped in it. And I foresee that their fates are in the air, the deeps of the earth, and water," Mandos paused and a deep sorrow seem to come from him. "Feanor is here, and his sons will suffer the same fate, all but one. But to him, will the sorrows lie the deepest, and through him will come deep sorrows and mourning, and through him a legacy will be nourished."
"But Melkor?" Ulmo did not fully understand the words of Mandos, but accepted them as they were.
"Melkor fears and hates the Elves, and a deep fear of the line of Finwe is in him. For he senses in Turgon and Finrod something that he does not comprehend, and he fears them to be his downfall."
"Are they to be his downfall?" Ulmo asked.
"That I cannot answer. But Ulmo, your waters run long and deep and their branches go into the most secretive of places. In that way may you help the First Children."
"What of the Second?"
"I do not know for sure, but I do not believe that they will be able to understand the messages sent to them in waters," Mandos' gaze met Ulmo's.
Ulmo began to understand somewhat and decided to ask, "Mandos, how much of the music do you remember?"
"Not much, and yet it plays within your waters," Mandos recalled the sound of the Sea, and of how much it resembled the music.
"Do you hear any discord in them?"
"The Seas are a small echo to the Great Music, and whatever discord is in them has been shaped into perfection. As with the discord of Melkor."
"What did you perceive?"
"I perceive what I perceive, as you do yours."
"Then what do our fates hold?" Ulmo knew that much would happen in the course of time.
"A long road, a long journey."
"Dark foretellings indeed," Ulmo could not see the end of the road being light.
"Indeed, but nay, say rather it is shadowed," For there was a time of day when the sun will shine, and darkness fleeing. And Mandos perceived pain for the Elves, but shining through it would come the light.
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A/N- I think the ending went totally wrong. But anyways, fic was inspired because of some of the lines I read in the Silmarillion. It does say that Mandos foretold air, sea, and earth for fate of the Silmarils, it also says that Mandos saw what was to come except for what Eru chose not to reveal to him. Ulmo might have seen some of the fate of the Elves, but Mandos might have talked to him, might. It might seem that I made Ulmo a bit 'unknowing' but that is not how I view the Lord of Waters. I might edit this though....
I read another line about Mandos that disturbed me a tad bit in the section about Beren and Luthien. So I might pop up with a 3rd Mandos fic about them. I might even do the other Valar, any suggestions?
Please review, constructive criticism welcome!
Summary: Mandos and Ulmo have a talk.
Author's Note: All of the Valar (except Varda) are hardly mentioned at all in many other fics and I think they need more credit. So I come up with my 2nd fic featuring Mandos, but this time with Ulmo. Mandos is quite possibly my favorite character in the 'Silmarillion' and Ulmo is my second (or third) favorite Vala. This fic is based on the 'Silmarillion' so Mandos' sister is Nienna and his wife is Vaire, but the appearance of the Halls are based upon 'Unfinished Tales.'
I think Silpion is Telperion, but I'm not entirely sure. So I used 'Silpion' in this fic as Telperion, please correct me if I'm wrong.
This is what happens when I reread the 'Silmarillion' and start paying attention to small sentences and details and then getting ideas.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Foretellings, Shadowed
Ulmo, Lord of Waters, was troubled. He was worried; many thoughts occupied his mind, for he worried for all of the Children of Iluvatar. Feanor had left Aman, and he too perished and was currently in the Halls of Mandos. The Second Children would come soon, he could sense it. Morgoth, Melkor, was out in Middle-earth working in the dark of the shadows, devising some new type of devilry.
He loved the Children of Iluvatar, and by no means of will would he ever betray or abandon them. But the Noldor had left of their own free will, and Valinor was shut against them, of which he and many others saddened of hearing and knowing. He still desired to help them, to guide them with his counsels, provide them with knowledge they will need to know.
The River Sirion, his most beloved river east of Aman, runs far and it's tributaries alike, and the branches of water tell him much of the goings of the Elves. He cannot decide what to do, he did not know how to guide the Children. If he so wished he could speak to them through his waters, or so come to them in dreams or illusions through the mist. Or so appear to them, shrouded in the mists of his making and advise them in what ways he so could.
All these he could do, but he did not know how to advise them or what he would reveal to them or tell them. For he did not know if his foresight and own perceivings were correct, or read correctly. He could simply let the Children be, but his mind was restless and would not let him, and neither would his love for them leave them alone, vulnerable to the darks of Melkor.
Coming upon the decision to come to Mandos, Ulmo departed from the deeps of the Sea, where he stayed during contemplation. He rarely ever came before the Elves, and even so with the Valar, save Manwe, and at times he would come to Namo, who is often times called by his halls, Mandos.
Mandos was in his halls, thinking. He was troubled, troubling thoughts had occupied his mind ever since Feanor created the Silmarils, and now his thoughts were ever occupied with dread and death and pain.
He did not truly enjoy judging and housing the houseless souls of the Elves, but he did judge and house their souls. To him, it felt correct, as if he were destined for this. But of course, he was destined and he did judge them in whatever way was given to him through the ways of Iluvatar.
He was currently in bodily form, since he discovered it helped him understand certain things a bit more clearly, for if he became flesh wouldn't he understand better the ways of those created by it. He gazed at one of Vaire's weavings, looking at its intricate design and knowing that it was clearly made with skill.
His wife was called The Weaver, and whatever happens in time her works would show them. But was she just called The Weaver just because of her tapestries? For woven things could represent much, and could say much. But her works were not just woven tapestries and materials taken from the earth so they could be put into his halls, she too wove pictures into one's mind, deep enough to move and trap one's soul.
One could look at the works hung in his halls, made by his wife, and truthfully say that they were amazing, true masterpieces and works of art. But no one could compare Vaire's, or any other of the works of the Valar to the works of Iluvatar. Iluvatar created the Valar, and too created his Children, beautiful and amazing creatures. All of the Valar, agreed upon the same thought.
He went to the center of his halls where the vessel in which some gleaming dews of Silpion were kept, providing the only light in Mandos.
His halls grow every passing year, and the cries of the souls of the dead Elves fill them with more sorrow. He places his hand on one of the black jet columns, the palm of his hand feeling the cool stone. Vapors surrounded his halls, covering the already black floor with dark mists, and creeping up the columns. The vapors touched almost everything, it even touched some of the souls of the Elves, but it did not touch the Elves who were full of hope, and it did not touch the dews of Silpion.
Ulmo came from his waters, drawing near to the Halls of Mandos. Nearing them, he began to feel the gloom that surrounded those halls. The gloom and sorrow was enough to pierce flesh, and enough to pierce the soul. Mandos was a place for souls, tainted and weary souls that have been through much, though some were quite innocent.
Sometimes Ulmo wondered if possibly it seems that the Halls of Mandos are gloomy because of one's thoughts, for the thought of the dead was enough to bring dread and gloom into one's heart. But if one thought of death as something natural and that it was not so terrible then would the halls still feel so dreadful?
Ulmo noticed that the gloom did not pierce him deeply and it but touched him lightly. Why this was so he knew not.
Mandos sensed that someone was approaching his halls and he waited, until Ulmo came.
He saw as the Lord of the Waters came into bodily form, appearing before him.
"Why come you hear Ulmo?" Mandos asked in his quiet voice, being not of many words.
"My mind is troubled, and I believe that you can answer somewhat of them," Ulmo's voice was deep, as the deeps of the Sea of which he is lord.
"Of what would you have me answer," Mandos' dark eyes turned to Ulmo's grey- blue, "for many questions and thoughts are in my mind also."
"Then mayhap we could each answer our questions," Ulmo said.
"What would you ask?" Mandos asked though he knew already. In partial reason was that the thoughts of the Valar were not too often kept from each other and they needn't use words to communicate, and some thoughts were hidden only because they were needed to. As was with at times Manwe would keep hidden, and Mandos would keep often most thoughts to himself.
Ulmo looked at the vessel containing the dews of Silpion, "of the Children."
Mandos followed Ulmo's gaze as he watched the lights of the dew of Silpion play with the dark, causing flickering shadows. "You ask of the Exiled Noldor."
"Yes," Ulmo replied watching the light dance with the shadows, blending and forming a dance. Creating a melody through sight.
"What would you have me tell you?"
"I wish to counsel them, for they now are surrounded by darkness and the ever growing power of Melkor, but I do not know if my perceivings of what is to come is correct. So I ask your counsel or opinion upon these matters. For you see far, and what you perceive could be somewhat different than mine." Ulmo was sure that Mandos would be able to answer his questions, but he did not know if Mandos would answer and reveal subjects that should not be known.
"What did you perceive?" Mandos asked softly,
"That the fate of Arda rests upon the Elves, and when they arrive, the Second Children. I too perceive that all of the Children's fates are bound to the Silmarils, in one way. Am I correct in this, Mandos?"
"You are."
"And yet in what way they are bound, I know not."
"Would it suffice to say that the Second Children are mortal, and therefore will die? Unlike the Firstborn."
"It would not," Ulmo hoped that he would accomplish what he set forth to do, in which he almost always did, almost.
"The fates of Arda are bound to the Silmarils, and try as they might, some of the Children will try to distance themselves to this fate. But through it will their downfall come upon them," Mandos finished.
"Will you not tell me more?" Ulmo desired more information, more knowledge.
"I will not, and I cannot," Mandos replied, though he truly wished that he could confide his worries to his friend. But he could not, for the knowledge was his own, and for him, Iluvatar, and possibly Manwe alone to know.
"Then what of the Silmarils?" Ulmo asked looking down upon the vapor- covered floor. He reached down and tried to trap some within his hand, as he would do with water, but the dark vapor escaped his slightly glowing hand, as if it were fleeing from his light.
"The light will try to trap Melkor, but ever will he escape, fleeing in terror and ever will he try to destroy all that is made by those who rejoice in the Sun and Moon and the Stars. And ever will he try to trap the light, and lead it astray," Mandos said as he watched the Lord of Waters.
Ulmo's hand was still within the vapor, and he noticed that it was not damp. But that it was just there; as if it had no true originated source, and that it came from itself. "Then we too are bound to the Silmarils then?"
"We are and were, ever since we came upon Arda. Through those jewels the fate of many and all are trapped in it. And I foresee that their fates are in the air, the deeps of the earth, and water," Mandos paused and a deep sorrow seem to come from him. "Feanor is here, and his sons will suffer the same fate, all but one. But to him, will the sorrows lie the deepest, and through him will come deep sorrows and mourning, and through him a legacy will be nourished."
"But Melkor?" Ulmo did not fully understand the words of Mandos, but accepted them as they were.
"Melkor fears and hates the Elves, and a deep fear of the line of Finwe is in him. For he senses in Turgon and Finrod something that he does not comprehend, and he fears them to be his downfall."
"Are they to be his downfall?" Ulmo asked.
"That I cannot answer. But Ulmo, your waters run long and deep and their branches go into the most secretive of places. In that way may you help the First Children."
"What of the Second?"
"I do not know for sure, but I do not believe that they will be able to understand the messages sent to them in waters," Mandos' gaze met Ulmo's.
Ulmo began to understand somewhat and decided to ask, "Mandos, how much of the music do you remember?"
"Not much, and yet it plays within your waters," Mandos recalled the sound of the Sea, and of how much it resembled the music.
"Do you hear any discord in them?"
"The Seas are a small echo to the Great Music, and whatever discord is in them has been shaped into perfection. As with the discord of Melkor."
"What did you perceive?"
"I perceive what I perceive, as you do yours."
"Then what do our fates hold?" Ulmo knew that much would happen in the course of time.
"A long road, a long journey."
"Dark foretellings indeed," Ulmo could not see the end of the road being light.
"Indeed, but nay, say rather it is shadowed," For there was a time of day when the sun will shine, and darkness fleeing. And Mandos perceived pain for the Elves, but shining through it would come the light.
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A/N- I think the ending went totally wrong. But anyways, fic was inspired because of some of the lines I read in the Silmarillion. It does say that Mandos foretold air, sea, and earth for fate of the Silmarils, it also says that Mandos saw what was to come except for what Eru chose not to reveal to him. Ulmo might have seen some of the fate of the Elves, but Mandos might have talked to him, might. It might seem that I made Ulmo a bit 'unknowing' but that is not how I view the Lord of Waters. I might edit this though....
I read another line about Mandos that disturbed me a tad bit in the section about Beren and Luthien. So I might pop up with a 3rd Mandos fic about them. I might even do the other Valar, any suggestions?
Please review, constructive criticism welcome!