(2000 years, roughly, later)
Manwë glanced up from his scrolls with a raised, silver brow. The worry that presented itself on Irmo's face was cause for confusion. The tall Valar, taller than most, walked as if gliding, his feet barely touching the marble flooring as he moved. Valar of Dreams and desires, the only reason he would leave his wife's side and their gardens was if the situation was dire.
"I assume you've had a vision, brother?" Manwë asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but it carried easily to the other male's ears.
As soon as he was within reaching distance of their King, Irmo swept gracefully to one knee, bowing his head in a show of respect. His long, coal colored hair fell over his shoulders, completely masking his face.
"I am afraid so. Our elves are in even more danger than we first feared."
"Stand, and speak with me. What news have you?" Manwë stood, just as graceful, if not more so as the Valar of Wind, his cloak barely making a sound as it was swept back behind him, enabling him to walk. His "brother" followed suit, staring down at the floor with dark eyes, thinking before speaking, choosing his words carefully.
"Their numbers are dwindling, their powers waning. It has become worse since the last War."
"They've been at peace for many years now. Surely they only need time-"
"They are running out of time, brother. It has been two thousand years, roughly. Something must be done. More and more are giving up hope and sailing. Others died and fell into my brother's Halls." It was the first time he'd ever spoken so harshly, his voice deep and vibrating with power, demanding the attention of the King. Instead of taking it badly, Manwë only peered at him with yet another raised brow. Irmo dipped his head in apology, but Manwë only smiled.
"Perhaps it is time all of our people sailed, and left the mortals to their own demise. We should call a council. What is it you suggest?"
"The Elvenking, Thranduil. He is still a much needed part of the future. If he does not continue on, and he chooses to sail, many things will change, and not for the better I fear. Ensure the continuation of the elves by placing a Valar with them. The Elves of the Greenwood are the worst off. Thranduil has responsibility, but he grows weary. His purpose is not yet fulfilled."
Manwë stopped walking, halting all progression he was making towards the Throne Room. He turned slowly, pale blue eyes taking in the other male. Then he gave a great sigh; and they wondered why he held a head of gray hair.
"My fellow Valar, you are summoned to meet in the Hall of Eru. There are situations that must be met and handled with care."
He sat, slowly, in the tall pale throne, and waited. Irmo stood at the head, a little off to the right, as he was the one to bring us such things. Slowly, one by one, the other Valar appeared, some fading in subtly, walking in, and others appearing in a blinding flash of light. He lifted a brow at the more dramatic entrances, and crossed his arms. All arrived, and after a moment the deep voice of Eru filled the cavernous room.
"Irmo, tell us what you know." The disembodied voice commanded, and Irmo cleared his throat before replaying his entire dream for them. They watched, worried faced, and Nienna cried even harder than usual.
"What do you suggest we do?" Eru's voice echoes around them again, and the others glanced around at each other, then finally glanced upon their king, who stiffened under their scrutiny.
"Well don't only look to me. I called a council for a reason." He looked over them, pursing his lips, and beside him, Varda gave a soft chuckle, melting his heart.
From a corner, Estë moved forward, a soft light emanating from her. Her blonde hair hung bone straight, golden in the dim light. Irmo turned to take his wife in, his eyes narrowed as if he knew what she was to say before she even spoke it.
"I offer to give my strength to your creations. I offer them healing and strengthening of their blood."
A collective gasp rose, and instantly Irmo let out a harsh "No." She lifted a brow at him and he gentled his voice, realizing his error. She was his wife, not his object. "You cannot. You will become too weak.."
"And they must not know of our interference. It may disrupt their path." Vairë interrupted, turning her silver gaze to the king, stepping forward.
"Then let us bring our kin home. Their time should be done." Tulkas opened his large arms, gesturing wildly in his distress.
"The time of the elves is not yet over. I swear there will be dire consequences if they are brought home too soon." Varda opened her mouth and spoke words for the first time. The strain there had Manwë reaching for her hand.
Bickering commenced, loud and angry. Fear had worked it's way into their hearts, troubling them, turning them on each other. The only voice of reason came from the very back of the room, it's holder casually leaning against the wall, playing with a small dagger.
"We should strengthen them by blood, of course. But more directly, and indirectly than anyone has suggested." Oromë said softly, and still his voice carried. Silently in the background he had been thinking, his dark midnight blue eyes staring into the hazle of his wife's. He knew what he must do, and Vána knew that it was a terrible, terrible idea. There was no way that what he was suggesting was going to blow over well with their daughter nor her husband, but sometimes, sacrifices had to be made. Now they felt like weeping like Nienna.
"Of what do you speak, Oromë?" Manwë asked, but before he could tell his plan, Eru's voice broke in again.
"Summon your family here, Oromë. We will decide then."
Caramel skin shimmered with ethereal light as she danced and sang with her mother, father and three siblings under the stars. Wild waves and curls bounced merrily around her face in a heavy mass as she lifted her hands and danced the circle around the small fire they had built. Her mother feared that her daughter would ever decide to wear her hair straight, scared the mass would make the small girl fall over it would be so long. The color was beautiful, all the browns of the earth, like her grandfather and her father. She didn't get the lovely strawberry blonde of herself or her grandmother, but she was given their eyes, almond shaped, and ever changing hazel. No one could ever tell if they were green, brown, grey, or blue, and they soon realized it depended on her mood. Her skin had grown an almost golden brown, darkened by the kiss of the sun. Nielíqui and Òmar had been gifted with a beautiful daughter, one of a curious nature and a temper like her grandfather, ever defiant and free spirited.
But she was beautiful and adept at plants like her grandmother. Her voice and dance she did indeed get from her parents, and her quick learning of instruments was also from them. She liked hunting with her grandfather, planting with her grandmother, and then times like these were spent with her parents. She loved animals, and for her coming of age her family created and presented her with a beautiful white tiger, larger than any seen before, and she named him Ainur to honor them all at once. Faeilân Nyeri, treasured daughter of the Valar, became a skilled warrior, fighting on the back of her Ainur, and by his side, and she became skilled with many weapons.
It was on this night, one she thought to be like any other, that she found herself in the Great Halls of Eru, clutching the hand of her little sister Isadara, watching with grating nerves as the other members of the Valar stared at them with sad eyes. They had been celebrating Isadara's coming of age, their father singing, mother dancing with her children, and her grandparents playing instruments as they sat by the fire. It had been a joyous and happy occasion, even their older brothers Thorontur and Locien had joined in the fun, kicking dirt up as they moved their feet in time to the song. It was with troubled eyes that their grandmother and grandfather had left them, being summoned. And soon after, the entire family was there, the boys standing with their father and the two girls standing between their father and mother. Nielíqui wrapped a reassuring arm around her girls and smiled.
"Forgive us for calling your family away during your celebration. But it is not without great cause." Manwë started. He looked to Oromë, and with sorrow, he told his family of the elves' troubles and their plan to ensure their survival.
"And you chose my daughter for this!?" Nielíqui's instant outrage had her husband's arm wrapping around her waist, pulling her away before she could latch her nails into her father's face. But even as he pulled her away, Òmar was stepping in front of her, nostrils flaring.
"Our daughter has just come of age, and already you wish to take her from us? To give her to an elvenking? Not only is he hardly worthy, but she is still just a child!" He turned to the rest of the Valar, all with downcast eyes, ashamed to meet them. "And you all agreed before even bringing it to us first? What family is this?!" His voice boomed on the last part, and the small family's outrage was only silenced by the commanding, deafening voice of Eru.
"Silence! It was meant to be discussed, and if I say she will go, she will go!" his voice softened, and he added, "It is, as of now, they only way."
Fae's breathing was ragged, and both she and her siblings looked to their parents in fear, and their grandparents in utter confusion. The betrayal was enough to make her sick to her stomach. And Isadara, the poor child was shaken, literally trembling against her older sister's side, and the pleas of their two older brothers, Thorontur and Locien, fell on deaf ears. Again her breathing became ragged, and as she looked down into her sister's eyes, the fear there broke her, and her mind was made up, and she was stepping through her family, parting their bodies with force as she moved forward.
"No! Not her. Take me! Take me in her stead!" her voice rang out, successfully silencing everyone in the chamber, including Eru. She hadn't even realized who had spoken until all eyes fell on her. The only thing that broke the silence was Nienna's constant wailing in the background. Well...shit.