A/N: They all belong to Tolkien. I'm just spreading the love.


We are the goddesses. Not star-bright Varda Elbereth, nor weeping, lonely Nienna, nor earthly Yavanna Kementari, whose rows with her husband are the stuff of legends. We are the forgotten ones, the quiet ones, glimpsed briefly when running through the forest, or heard softly on a distant breeze when we sing as we weave upon our looms, but never much thought of. Little sisters of the greater queens, keepers of the hearth, we are the household gods, the women's gods. No soldier in battle may call upon us for glory, but Este shall tend to them afterwards, if Vaire weaves it so. Nessa shall bring them deer, and Vana's songs shall make them smile. We move our world in little ways, but when our brothers and greater sisters have done their work, we shall keep it whole.