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Chapter Two
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With a wistful sigh, Yavanna Kementári turned her gaze to the north, then to the south, and finally, to her left, where Irmo stood with an amused smile on his face. "It is so good to have light," she said to her companion.
Irmo nodded in agreement. "Yes, it is," he said. "Aulë's skill is great."
Yavanna sighed again and placed her hand on the trunk of the willow tree. "I am as pleased as we all are by his feat, but at the same time, I am saddened," she confessed. "It is light shed by fire, and fire brought forth by the burning of wood. Are the works of my hands to be created only to be destroyed by his?"
He did not have an answer to her question.
She looked across the lawn, where many of the other Valar were assembled in a group. It looked as though Nessa was getting ready to dance again. Tulkas was helping her stand. Yavanna recognized the looks on their faces; they were the same looks exchanged by Oromë and Vána. "Tulkas is in love with Nessa."
"You are certain?" Irmo asked.
She nodded. "I am certain. The way they look at each other… I can tell."
"Eyes can be deceptive," he replied. "They should not be trusted, and used only to confirm what is known by the soul."
Yavanna laughed and took a playful swipe at him. "I do not need another lesson in matters of the soul from you, Master of Dreams."
Irmo laughed, too, and stepped back so he was a safe distance beyond her reach. "Very well. I shall refrain from instructing you with my skills if you instruct me with yours."
Yavanna knew of Irmo's desire to create a magnificent garden, and for a brief moment, an image of the two of them standing side by side underneath a canopy of leaves and boughs flashed in her mind. She liked the image. She knew Irmo would be a good husband to her, and that she would be a good wife to him. Together, they would do great and beautiful things.
"I would be honored to aid your dreams in whatever ways I can."
Irmo could think of many ways in which Yavanna could honor his dreams, and he smiled as he perceived that she intended the double meaning. "Yavanna, I…"
"Yes?"
A startled look crossed Irmo's face. "Aulë."
"Aulë?" Yavanna repeated.
She turned around and saw the Smith standing behind her. "Aulë!"
"Irmo, Yavanna," Aulë greeted them respectfully. "Oromë. Vána."
Oromë and Vána returned his greeting, then excused themselves, leaving to join the company of the other Valar.
Aulë wished they had not gone. He felt vulnerable in the presence of Irmo and Yavanna. His sanity began to return. Why had he let Ulmo talk him into this?
"To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" Irmo asked.
Aulë could feel Irmo's mind searching his. It was not Irmo's fault; it was simply a reflexive action his powers took when he was in close proximity with another. By concentrating, Aulë was able to keep Irmo out of his most secret thoughts. The last thing he wanted was for Irmo to learn of his unlikely love for Yavanna.
"I… er… Ulmo…" Aulë struggled to find the right words.
"Your lamps are beautiful," Yavanna said.
"Thank you," Aulë replied, though he could detect the hint of antipathy lingering in her voice.
"Yes," Irmo agreed. He smiled. "Your skills are great."
"My skills are no greater than those of any other of our order," Aulë said, "and they are nothing if they cannot be used to bring joy to the world."
Irmo and Yavanna looked at each other, and Aulë realized they were not as delighted with his creation as the other Valar. He sighed and turned his head away, making a promise to himself to never listen to Ulmo again. Irmo and Yavanna were meant for each other. It was obvious.
"Excuse me," Aulë said quietly, and turned to leave.
"Wait," Yavanna said, reaching out and placing her hand on his arm.
Aulë jumped at Yavanna's touch. Her hands were indeed rough as he'd expected, but it was the lightest and most delicate roughness he'd ever felt.
"We have not offended you, have we?" Yavanna asked.
"It would be impossible for you to offend me, Kementári," Aulë replied, a little too quickly.
Yavanna smiled at him and pulled her hand away. "All things are possible, Aulë."
Not all things, Aulë thought, and a pang shot through his heart.
"Look," said Irmo. "Nessa is beginning another dance."
And Vána had joined her. Oromë and Tulkas stood next to each other, smiling proudly as their beloveds moved in time with the music and each other. Nessa was the swifter of the two, but Vána was more graceful. Both were delightful to watch, and there was none who had not taken notice of the encore.
Yavanna sighed happily as the three of them watched the dancers. "Vána can dance so well." She did not share her sister's love of dancing, and therefore, not the skill, either.
"Oromë is very lucky," Irmo said.
Aulë had to agree. Yavanna's sister was the next best thing to Yavanna herself. And Oromë and Vána were an unlikely match. Oromë was a hunter and warrior, whereas Vána was quiet and gentle. Aulë knew they were not as unlikely a pair as himself and Yavanna, but if Oromë and Vána could find happiness in each other, was there a chance?
Yavanna looked to Aulë, wondering just why the Smith had come over to them. To the best of her knowledge, he was close to neither Irmo nor Oromë, and she never heard Vána speak of him. In fact, of the four of them, it was she who had the greatest amount of prior contact with Aulë, and that was through their duet during the creation of the world. Their music had been surprisingly beautiful, and she thought back to it on occasion, but it was not prominent in her thoughts; there was little she and Aulë had in common, and therefore, growing closer to him was not one of her priorities at this point in time. Was he here to make an effort to reach out to her? If he was, she was not going to deny him.
Aulë glanced in her direction and saw that she was looking at him, too. Their eyes met, and she smiled. By the time it occurred to him to smile back, he'd already looked away. He felt ashamed of himself. How was he supposed to work up the courage to tell Yavanna how he felt if he could not even look her in the eye?
"Aulë?" Yavanna said.
"I'm sorry," Aulë said, forcing himself to look at her, into her deep green eyes, shining like emeralds out of her perfect face. He was sorry. He was sorry he ever allowed himself to fall in love with her.
He excused himself again, and this time, did not allow them to stop him.