Hope you guys enjoy this long chapter! I tried my best to answer some of your questions in it and provide insight into the Valar. To make the story, I decided to push up the timelines of Tolkien's events and make Legolas approximately 100 years older than Arien (there is a ton of debate in the Tolkien world about Legolas's age, so just roll with me on this one). Let me know what you think!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: COUNCIL OF MAHANAXAR
The Powers of the World rarely directly intervened in the world's course of events but, with Middle Earth being down on its luck, it was time they stepped in.
Deep in the Pelori Mountains, south of the remains of the Two Trees of Valinor just outside the golden western gates of Valmar, the Ring of Doom had commenced. Within the circles of the Mahanaxar were the thrones of the Valar where they passed judgment and gave order to the world.
The last time the council was joined together was when Melkor, the Creator of Dark Powers and the First Dark Lord, was judged and sentenced for his evils, during the Frist Age. His unspeakable acts started when he withdrew from Earth after his intention of ruling over Aman for himself was discovered. They should have known he would return to regain dominance; with his disciple Sauron and Gothmog the Lord of Balrogs by his side and flew in that peaceful night…
The imperial family had crossed the horizon for the celebration of Arien's 600th birthday and her coronation that was held in Rivendell. The celebration went on into the night, everyone danced like they'd forgotten how to stand still. It was an exhilarating day for everyone – it was the day that all of the Valar's preparations where to pay off, the perfect day where all was to come true.
Vardamir had parted the rough Encircling Seas at the edge of Vinyamar and sailed the fairest ship ever fashioned over the luxurious waters, soaring them back into Aman.
Docking into the harbor of Valmar, they were joined by the rest of their ever-watching family who had a few surprises up their sleeves for the now crowned Princess. The palace from a distance looked to be made entirely out of ice, but when you were close enough to touch you could see that it was a crystal palace. It seemed to grow right out of the ground like a diamond glacier. The sea soon turned into a beautiful river leading up to the opulent city, allowing golden bridges to reach across the banks leading to the square that reminded one of an open iridescent oyster, cluttered with delicate pearls shinning with the colors of the ocean.
Laced gold tile, French doors, arched windows and strong Corinthian columns gave way to vaulted ceilings, which drew the eye towards the gracefully curved bifurcated staircase that held four ornate thrones positioned in front of the family's painting that portrayed them when Arien was born. The candle light dispersed the dancing figures through the glass casting hauntingly beautiful movements into the night. The stars that Varda had hand placed appeared like glitter, as if Arien could scoop it all up in her hands and shower herself with the dazzling confetti of light.
Orome had lifted her above his head, spinning around as the merry waltzing continued. "Yavanna!" She cried as she caught her grandmother's attention, Orome gently placed her back down as she ran into the awaiting open arms. Yavanna quietly stole her away from the celebration, leading her outside. The patio had an electric beauty, so much like the rest of the private garden, where the ivy stuck onto the stone like a painting, and the fragrance of jasmine filled the air.
"My dear Arien." Her angelic voice caused the trees to dance. She beamed down at her as they sat on a bench that was once part of the first sea boat to cross into Amen. Yavanna took a rectangular box from her robe and placed it into Arien's lap.
"For me?" She asked, she stroked the leather box before opening it, revealing a golden pendant. She glanced up at Yavanna, before taking it out of the box, the metal cold against her fingers. It was polished and cut to perfection, clearly made by the Valar themselves.
"Yomenie Tirion." She whispered, her eyes squinting as she read out the ancient elvish, transfixed by the enchanting jewel. A magnificent rainbow aurora surrounded it, giving off an ethereal glow.
'Together in Tirion.'
Once she translated the words, she gasped. "Oh grand-mama! You mean it?" She bounced up eagerly.
"Of course, I do little one!" She laughed lightly at the child's enthusiasm. Yavanna knew Arien had longed to visit Tirion and learn from the Valar. Mother Earth had gotten each Valar to add a unique crystal to the pendant. What Arien would soon find out upon her first visit to the city was that the pendant was a Silmaril, one of the three most precious jewels of all of Middle Earth that could never be harmed.
"Arien, there you are. It is time." Aerathine's voice rang out behind them. Arien quickly joined Ecthelion at the entrance of the ballroom and he took her arm placing it on top of his.
"You ready?" He questioned. He was clad in dark silver and hues of blue that contrasted with his dark hair that showed the intricately woven white crown he wore. He twinkled like the moon, while she dazzled like the sun; two best friends who were as identical as they were different as brother and sister.
"Born ready." Her eyes shone up at him. This was the moment she had been waiting for her whole life. Even though after her time with Legolas made her feel as if she had left half of her with him, she no longer cared about the royal coronation at Rivendell or having to dance with the insipid Prince Cornelius. She cared about this - her crowning moment. They walked elegantly, as if on a cloud up to the set of thrones. Her parents sat gracefully next to one another, holding hands as the blessed moment unfolded in front of them. Her brother squeezed her fingers lightly, a silent reminder that they were in this together.
"Ecthelion of the Fountain, Vessel of the Moon, I dub you Warden of the Great Gate and one of the Twelve Houses of the Gondolindrim." Manwe the Eldar King moved forward taking a long, bright jeweled sword and slowly brought it down on both of his lean shoulders before he kneeled in front of Ecthelion. The Prince stood to his full height and took the sword from Manwe's outstretched flat palms.
Arien was incredibly proud of Ecthelion as he held it up the Orcrist for all of Valinor to see. He was the strongest, most steadfast, more lordly, and most valiant elf Middle Earth had seen. He had built the Seven Gates that surrounded the Havens of Falas protecting the entrances of the major cities from any evil. He fought alongside the Noldor evils during the Battle Nirnaeth Arnoediad and slaughtered three Balrogs at once. He bowed and sat down, leaving her standing in the middle of her family.
"Arien…" Varda began as she floated towards the young woman carrying a crown and orb in her grasp. The globe of gold surrounded by a cross girdled by a band of crystals held in place the large citrine at the summit. She curtsied as the Star Queen lightly placed the crown on top of her head, making the gold hue of her hair glow.
"Arien, as Vessel to the Sun and Goddess of Fire, I give you the first seed of Laurelin." She slowly straightened up and the orb that held the seed, which was to become the sun, was placed in her awaiting hand. The roaring of the crowd as she stood tall in front of all of Valinor was deafening yet intoxicating. After the coronation, the crowded dispersed and she slipped out with her grandmothers to her bedroom so she could see the future path laid out for her.
"How do I open it?" She carefully inspected the orb.
"Your pendant." Yavanna sat on the edge of the tufted bench at the end of Arien's bed. She took the golden pendant from around her slender neck and placed the crystal sideways into the tiny slot till she heard a soft click, turning it once. The top of the orb popped open and inside the deep green velvet held a tiny marbled golden seed.
"As you grow, the seed with thrive till it is time for you to follow the Star path." Vana told her simply. She would purse Earendil's path, when he placed the North Star, which is particularly visible in the morning and evening, into the sky when she was born. Arien stared down at the seed in awe, but before she could say anything, her ornate doors flew open violently and Earendil tripped in with a crazed expression.
"We must go." He breathed quickly, glancing around the room. "Quickly." He added urgently when no one moved.
"What is going on?" Vana questioned as Arien's grandfather Elros Minyatur tumbled in and grabbed the two Vala women by the forearms dragging them out of the room without a single word. Earendil moved towards Arien as a terrifying screech and crash came from the hallway. The once lit corridor, now dark as it engulfed everything; the darkness was like she had never experienced. It ate up everything in its path, not giving any mercy as it destroyed the palace.
"Hurry – now!" The orb crashed to the floor as Earendil pushed her towards the white balcony that was as delicate as a cake-topper; he glanced around quickly trying to come up with a plan. The once midnight velvet sky turned to blood, the stars were nonexistent, as between them arose heavy puffs of fog that blanketed the sky, hiding the full moon in its full glory behind them. But the moon fought, oh how it fought to shine its light on the earth, but the clouds that had rolled in stretched over the sky, giving it a hazy ominous feel.
"Down here!" Her father shouted from the patio below. He quickly calculated the distance for safety and then grabbed her by the waist.
"Wait –" She backed up, "What are you doing? What's happening?" It was then she heard the sickening bawl from Gothmog. The adrenaline flooded her system, it pumped and crashed hard against her rib cage like it was trying to escape. It surged so fast Arien thought she might vomit, tasting the saliva thickening in her throat as beads of sweat trickled down her spine.
"Arien do you trust me?" Her great-grandfather blurted. Her wide eyes stared into his for a moment before simply nodding. "Close your eyes." He told her soothing her hair before gathering her in his arms and gently throwing Arien from the third-story balcony. She felt the cold air brush past her, her golden gown floating elegantly up around her as her father easily caught her.
"I've got you." He whispered as her feet came in contact with the cold silver stone. She didn't even have time to glance back at her great-grandfather before she was rushed around the corner of the castle. Her once bright and cherry home now seemed hollow and shattered. She couldn't keep up with his long legs as he bounded over falling stone and rubble as she tried to block out the surroundings screams. It was the kind of screams that made your blood drain; it pieced the brain and ignited some primeval pathway.
"Take your sister." He ordered, handing Arien off. She pleaded for him to stay with her, but Ecthelion grabbed her and sprinted fluidly over the golden bridge, his movements as sleek as a black cat in the night. Vardamir stayed behind fighting back the black monsters – the ones that appeared in her nightmares all those years ago. She felt something claw at her from above, but she dared not glance up.
A string of curses unraveled from the monsters tongue, like yarn unfurling, as the creature advanced once more. Its golden scales shimmered over the stone with hot anger along with its dark, cold eyes. Every flap of its wings rattled her bones and struck her heart. They tried to dodge a swing from its massive claws, but it struck Arien's side and she collapsed into her mother's arms. When Ecthelion knew for sure Arien was safe and alive, although her breathing was labored, he unsheathed the Orcrist.
"Arien we must go -"
"No!" Arien wouldn't leave one more of her family member behind. Gothmog dropped to the ground, he stool tall and menacing, glowing as if he was constantly burning, holding a flaming thronged whip and a black axe. All she heard was the diamond blade hit the axe; a deafening slashing sound rang in her ears.
She sprinted through the valley with Aerathine and down a tiny steep rocky slope, her feet slipping, grasping at shrubs with her hands. Arien's legs gave out causing her to stumble down like a snowball, twisting her ankle and gashing her forehead. Blood dripped into her eye as Nessa pulled her up and soon her feet hit soft sand. She had never been on this side behind the castle walls. Her mother stopped suddenly, causing Arien to crash into her back. She spun crouching down to Arien's eye level and spoke what sounded like ancient elvish before kissing her forehead. Arien's head swarmed in pain and she blacked-out, when her eyes opened she was on a ship.
Her blurry vision took in the flames that engulfed her home and with each flame that licked the sky she knew another one of her possessions was alight. Her breath hitched as she watched the immemorial spire that stood tall on the palace's roof, split off and fall into the fire – it made her heart clench up. What was going on? Where was everyone? What had her mother said to her? Why was she on this ship by herself? Arien had felt someone's solid arms around her, but she didn't know whom it was or where she was headed.
Decay quickly spread across the land as Melkor and the dark spider Ungoliant searched high and low for the princess. Out of frustration Melkor thrust a great spear, torching the Two Trees of Valinor, as Ungoliant drank the sap that poured from the wounds, draining the Trees of light and poisoned the land of Aman. The fire within the Lamps scorched a great portion of the world, and they quickly withered and died, plunging Aman into complete darkness. Containing the catastrophe caused by the Tree's breaking kept the Valar occupied long enough for Melkor and his forces to follow the ship veiled by starlight that carried the princess across the horizon.
He had followed her all the way to Numenor, where he almost grasped her in his talons before they were chopped off by a ginger elf. He fought his way through the precious lands, stopping only a moment to see if he could take the Silmaril jewels, which caused him to lose her in the process. Melkor offered the Noldor elves terms of surrender, but when they didn't take it he took to slaughtering the race, including King Mahtan. The few remaining Numenoreans and subsequently the Dunedain sailed eastward and settled in the Havens of Falas.
He captured Prince Cornelius and when he wouldn't give up Arien's location, he sunk the Island and chained him to the cliffs of Mordor. Melkor had broken the world, causing sickness and rot to grow. In fixing Valmar, the Valar gave Melkor virtually free-reign in Middle Earth. As a result, the continent languished in darkness and Melkor filled its lands with terrible creatures and decay; turning the Greenwood Forest into Mirkwood. When the First War of the Jewels ended Middle Earth was left in a blanket of bleakness after the night the vessel of the sun was transformed. A decade later when Middle Earth erupted with the idea that Arien may be still alive, Sauron took to battle all the races resulting in the War of the Last Alliance. When he was defeated, the council had sent as many Maiar's as they could to Middle-Earth, to provide a strong opposition to Sauron.
Melkor was the reason they were in this situation in the first place and this was the last straw. Each Valar had a specific role in protecting and guiding Arien while she roamed Middle Earth, but when the Fellowship left the heavenly gates of Rivendell and the Prince of Greenwood still had not connected the dots, they were exasperated: something more needed to be done.
"Oh, for pity sakes." Yavanna spoke throwing her hands up in the air, her frustration caused sparks to fly from her finger tips. She had planted and caused to flourish the first growing things of the world, which she had long prepared and if Sauron was going to cut down every tree, she would have no more of it; the imbecile was pouring poisons into the veins of the world. She had placed everything that survived the first darkness into a great sleep, including the Ents until the rise of the Sun and the Moon could occur once more. With the Valar stuck in the Darkening of Valinor with no sun, she was too occupied with trying to heal the Two Trees to deal with any of this.
"Oi, watch it woman!" Ulmo yelled as he swiftly patted his arm as the tiny embers hit him. His hair like shimmering sea foam and grey clock which appeared as a mist veiling a coat of mail which glittered like fish scales flickering green hissed at the scorching speaks. The King of the Sea glared at Mother Earth as she simply shrugged her soft shoulders that were exposed from her earth toned robe, as she picked a dead flower from her floral wreath crown that sat on top of long golden hair.
Ulmo seldom came to the Councils of Mahanaxar, and only when in great need as he preferred to stay in the waters. He didn't understand why he couldn't go back to governing all the waters and communicate with them through the very veins of the world: it was how he stayed in touch with the earth, and thus knew more of Arien's life and Sauron's movements than any other.
"How could we ever think elves to be thought of as wise?" Aule, the Smith slumped low in his chair, propping his chin on his closed fist. He was responsible for fashioning and crafting the substances of which the world was composed of; from creating the dwarves out of impatience for the Eldar, constructing all the realms buildings, and forging weaponry and armor. He had guided Fundin and the folk of Thrain 1 to care for Arien when she was the lost, injured and lonely child all those years ago.
"You're the one who created everything. If no one's wise, it's because you are not." The dark figure Mandos, the Judge of the Dead, spoke under his breath. He was stern, dispassionate and never forgot a thing. He sat studying his ghostly fingers; as disinterested in this conversation as he was when the Minyatur mariner, Earendil came to Aman and begged for assistance. Why they just didn't allow him to turn her into a Vala, like he turned her great-grandfather's line into half-elven, was beyond him.
"Now listen here pal, I didn't come here to be insulted! I could dragonize this cave in a minute!" Aule threatened, leaning forward in his chair.
"Oh? Well, where do you usually go?" Mandos simply raised a dark eyebrow, rolling his black-hole eyes at Aule who sat with his mouth open like a cod fish at the unexpected comeback.
"Gentlemen!" Varda, the Star Queen commanded, opening one eye to stare at them. "There is no time for petty arguments." Her bright white eyes shut once more as she concentrated on preserving what little was left of the Sun's rays and keep Arien's soul alive. She hoped Middle Earth would call for Arien soon, for the established course of the Moon and the Sun were beginning and time was running out. Like the prophecy written before the Earth was created: Arien would follow the Star of Earendil into the sky before the last flower of the Two Lamps fell.
"Can't you do something Irom?" His wife Este the Gentle, asked sweetly reaching over to place a hand on his arm. He was beginning to boil over, with all of them asking him to do something. As the Chief of the Maiar, she was the last to directly interfere when she sent Melina to Middle Earth.
"I've done all I can do… besides smacking him in the face. How many hints does he need! I mean at least she's doing something!" Irom's frustration seethed through his tone, he pushed off his throne and began pacing the grand hall. As the Vala who was responsible for the creation of dreams and visions of desires, it was all he could do to lay out the path for them, to wield Arien to see her past and Legolas was beginning to push his buttons.
"We're all open to suggestions Irom." Orome spoke with desperation. He couldn't bear to watch Arien be hunted by Sauron and suffer anymore. He would use the Bridge of Heaven that he made using her wife Vana's golden hair when Arien first left Aman, to get to Middle Earth and hunt the vast lands for his granddaughter. The folk and beasts he trained in pursue of evil creatures were no more, so he thought he might install his old friend, the Maiar Radagast for assistance.
"I can't keep her young and healthy in her human form for much longer." Vana's soft tone was no more than a whisper, her bright hair dulling as her powers grew weaker with each passing season that was filled with shadows and half-light. For over 3,000 years she kept Arien's human form young and healthy, making sure no human illness affected her.
"Great woe I feel is on the horizon..." Nienna, the Lady of Mercy could feel the grief that was to come, her gray hair growing with each tear shed on Middle Earth. She pitied the suffering and hoped the endless grief that was to come would provide endurance of the spirits. After the War, Nienna mourned for the destruction of the Two Trees, and her tears are what brought healing to Arien in her human form when she was rescued by the dwarfs.
"I'll smash Sauron's head in before he lays a finger on her!" Tulkas, the Wrestler's voice roared throughout the hall, causing it to tremble from the force. His thunderbolts zapped from his mighty hands, bouncing around as the Valar's moved to take cover.
"We will not start another war over this. Too many have been fought, and too much has been lost." Manwe, the Elder King's voice was laced with authority. The winds and airs were his servants as he easily evaporated the thunderbolts. He was a kind and compassionate Ruler of Earth, who was unconcerned with his own power. "Is there anything we are over-looking?" The council fell silent as they all thought of what to do next in this delicate situation. After a moment pause, "Vaire what are you thinking?"
"I might be able to weave into their story and alter their meetings… or possibly with Irmo's assistance intertwine their dreams." She sat upon her chair, one leg hosted up over the arm rest, as she weaved her tapestry of the coming War of the Ring. With the passage of time and its many ages, her woven tapestries expanded and clothed all the wall of the Halls of Mandos, showcasing the stories of Arda. Out of all the Varlar, Vaire was by far the scariest, one never wanted to piss her off as she could easily destroy their life for, she was the one who gave each individual their story… their purpose.
"Either way, we must speak to Mithrandir." A dull female voice came from the shadows. Este nodded her head thoughtful at the frail woman and put it into motion: Gandalf would be reminded of the reason he was placed on Middle Earth, fall into the icy waters of Mandos and pay them a visit.