Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, character death
Chapter: one-shot
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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He was a torrent of death and destruction. Anything in his path died, and nothing else did... The Trees, to the North and behind him, went out, but endured though Yavanna had released them from her control. They would simply not grow or do anything else living things would do, trapped in an eternal stasis until the rest of Eä failed around them. Though the world ended, life did not, trapping those that fell prey to the failing tapestry into horrifying limbo's with no one to release them from their bodies.
He did not care, could not care, could only consider the quickly growing chasm in his ëala where his second half ought to be. They were meant to be eternal, undying, bound to Eä... Why had she ceased to be!?
This was not supposed to happen. Nothing in the things he knew of Eru's mind had warned him off this! In fact, he was very certain that this was the complete opposite of what was supposed to happen. Eä should not be ending just yet! She should not be ending... ever!
He howled, pain and grief and agony suffusing his entire being. He was not supposed to lose her!
Up ahead, a wall of darkness greeted him, glowing lines crossing through it.
Námo slammed into it, a living miasma of Doom and fury. His wife had not been one of the Aratar, though perhaps her value should have made her one. She had not been a fighter either, though she could be devastating if properly motivated.
It clearly had cost her, facing the foul spirit all his hate and anger now unleashed itself against.
The thing screeched, but with a being faintly unraveled and now the entirety of Death in Eä being bend to it, the form could only shudder and fail. He tore at it, rot and decay following the bones of his fingers where they found gaps left by his spouse, sinking deep into flesh that was not true flesh.
The ground shuddered, partially from the creature's massive fana falling, and Aulë's hold on the earth here failing. In the distance, fissures opened up as his fellow Aratar had to let go of the lands with only plants and animals in order to maintain the lands with the Children in some faint hope to stop the inevitable. Magma started floating in the air, earth and air mixing in new and terrifying ways as Manwë had to do something similar. He could feel their agony, their need, but it meant nothing to him.
She was on the ground, below where the spirit had been feeding on her.
Her ëala barely held on as of yet, and her fana was decaying like a tapestry left out the elements. His own ëala was burning agony, ice-cold despair... and his fana was a cloud of all things he had ever taken from Eä, of the doom that followed in his wake. He could kill the deathless now, destroy that which was meant to last forever.
"Vairë..." He covered her with himself, shielding her from the dissolving world. She probably was the only one who would be safe near him now. He'd always keep her safe.
Her fana was spoiled, dark veins marring her warm skin, black darkness oozing from her pores and tainting her elegant, destroyed outfit, once the only point of bright color in his existence. Nothingness was spreading like a poison in the light of her being, taking her apart at her seams.
"Vairë." Her rapidly dulling eyes still reflected the stars that fell nearby, craters blooming in the rapidly unstable surface of Arda, fire and destruction spreading.
The cold of his Halls, the death of his being, extinguished those that came too close, leaving them a minor haven of safety in the End of all things.
One arm had already faded into nothing, but her other one rose, reaching into the manifestation of his Song. He solidified, gathering her close, clinging to the shreds of her, trying to keep the threads of her Song with him.
They slipped through his hold like dust, black poison eating away at everything that made her.
He turned his power inward, tearing at himself. Whether it was to give parts of him to her, or to follow her, he would not be able to tell.
"Vairë." Her name burned, in his mind and mouth, a mantra of all her names in all the tongues that ever had been and now never would be spoken. All his focus was on her, on her.
He howled, mad with grief and pain and anger. He was not supposed to lose her! He was supposed to be hers, and she his until the end of the Second Singing!
He could not vocalize beyond her, but his ëala burned with his emotions, a noxious cloud of death and decay spreading like an oil-spil on water.
Arda was falling apart, Eä was unraveling, and he was carving his grief into the corpse of the Song of the Ainur. In the bonds between them, he heard his sister Nienna wail, for her brother's agony, and the destruction of their creation. Irmo, gentle and innocent Irmo, he could not sense, the other too weak to contend with him at this distance.
Lava became water, songs mixing and interfering, warping what little was left at this point.
In the distance, a tree fell, golden Laurelin's foundations evaporating as Manwë's song overpowered Aulë's. Telperion briefly blazed with light brighter than ever before, entire form bending as if trying to reach for his sister.
A spray of flowers launched upward when the massive form landed on a semblance of surface, a rainbow of color catching the light of what stars remained, glowing in the end of the world.