The Arms of Yavanna

by Valxyri

The women of the line of Finwë have a special connection to the Vala of Nature, but when that power begins to fade, will it doom even the smallest of them? And can young Prince Eldarion find what he needs to save his family and restore order to Arda? A sequel to *The Hands of the Prince*

3. 3

TIRION"No," Elrond shook his head, inwardly scolding himself, "we don't know the effect that it would have on his mind. After all that has come to pass, I would not risk it." He leaned on the handrail of the balcony, his forgotten spice tea growing tepid between his hands. The dim music of the city rose to meet them through the shining mists of the morning. "it's not," he closed his eyes and shook his head, "it's not wise." He risked a glance at his wife but quickly winced away from her. She was robed in a comfortable cascade of translucent silk, and her eyes were bright with loss.Below them, the city was waking up; cheerful Vanyarin farmers, the people of Yavanna, ten thousand years old, sang songs of greeting and strength to their gentle cattle. The scars of unrest were abstract and distant in this city of stone, second in priority to trade.Somehow, bafflingly, Elrond had allowed himself to be given the title of governor of Tirion after the Breaking of Mandos, which meant that he was uniquely aware of the thinness of the illusion. The sudden re-embodiment of the entire population of Mandos at once had thrown Valinor into unprecedented political chaos, through which the Valar themselves were frustratingly silent. Lands that had been Vanyarin since before the first rising of the sun suddenly had to manage an influx of thousands of new residents, many of whom had not been properly prepared for release. This led predictably to age-old prejudices springing up upon the slopes of Tuna, sparking arguments that High Queen Galadriel was all too happy to delegate to her famously kind and diplomatic son-in-law. And although the Fruit-Giver had not shown her face among the fields of the Yavanildi in yeni, their granaries always seemed to hold just enough to feed everyone, and he thanked her for that blessing. While the people remained fed, the disagreements and tribalism would hopefully not escalate into violence. The remaining Fëanorians had, for the most part, disappeared with Findecáno into the far north and had not been seen in years. The exception was the lady Nerdanel, who had an established atelier to run in the bustling downtown of Tirion where pilgrims came from all across the continent to visit the Temple of Varda, the dome of which dominated the skyline which was becoming visible through the mist across the valley. The house itself was on the mountainside of the city, away from the crowded flamboyance of downtown. "We thought that many things were not possible," Celebrian reminded him. Below them in the terraced garden, Finrod was standing, hip deep in mounds of white flowers, studying something in the soil with his and Amarië's third child in as many yeni. Tilliel was almost four and had inherited her father's pale golden curls. She listened attentively as he whispered to whatever helpless insect he had trapped between his fingers, then shrieked when he let it go, and it buzzed playfully around her head before zipping off into the garden. Finrod made a dramatic show of following the buzzing insect back to its hive in a conical basket as the elfling crept along behind him, clutching one trailing silken sash.Elrond noticed Celebrian's quiet sadness. She watched the two of them, but her eyes seemed to focus beyond the waking world. Her uncle hummed and performed a strange sort of dance, much to his daughter's delight, and somehow managed to lift the edge of the basket and bring out a slab of glistening honeycomb without being stung."I would do anything to go back." She confessed with a sob, leaning into Elrond's arms as he wrapped them around her from behind. She turned away, looking up at him and seeing only her lost children in his features, "I have not the strength left in me to bear another."He took her face between his hands, studying her like an ancient text full of secrets and tragedy. "You would go to him in dreams? Haunt his descendants as an undying wraith in the background of their minds?""No," she pushed him away, "Do you remember when the boys were small? And the house almost burned down?" she paused as a wren landed on the high branches of the cherry tree in Finrod's garden."I do.""I thought I lost all three of you." She confessed, "Ataxo couldn't revive you, and little Ro went limp in my arms like he would breathe his last when we couldn't find Dan." She winced, and Elrond resisted the urge to embrace her again, stuffing his hands into his packets. "I never thought I would be the one to walk away from them." He was about to interrupt, but she went on, "I dream of deep water every night. I don't think they're coming." He couldn't help himself from reaching out and holding her shoulder, his eyes brimming with their shared grief. "and maybe, if things are really different now, we can at least say goodbye." "Celebrian…" He struggled to find the words to deny her the same crushing yearning he felt in his own heart but was saved by the sound of urgent voices speaking rushed Vanyarin below them and the clatter of light feet on the stairs inside the house.Glorfindel appeared through the carved banister railing taking the steps two at a time; he was dusty and wearing riding leathers. A nervous-looking Finrod stood a few steps behind him; the child, it seemed, had been returned to her mother."My lord," Glorfindel bowed to Elrond and Celebrian, "my lady, there's been an attack." Elrond closed his eyes as a hundred dreaded scenarios went through his mind."Do not dwell on the past." Elrond gently put his hands on the sides of his wife's neck, trying to send her comfort and healing he did not himself feel, "We will speak more of this later." He kissed her forehead and, feeling her softening to his touch, dared to wrap his arms around her for a long moment before he turned to follow Glorfindel and Finrod into the study.Celebrian sat on the bench beside the railing, looking at the closed door, listening to the silence where the little girl's laughter had disappeared. A wind out of the east whistled through the mountain passes, and it caught her hair as it sighed.This was intolerable. …EDORAS"I began cataloging all this when I first came here." The Queen of Rohan explained, balancing herself against the wall with one arm and her son with the other. "it's a bit of a labor of love." Eldarion held up a lantern to illuminate the small room. He followed behind the king, Sir Brandybuck, and their new guest. Politely lending his stature to keeping the light aloft as he studied the shelves with mild interest.Merry gave a low whistle as the light spread out to fill the chamber. He raised a second lamp above his head, "Has mister Gimli seen this?" He gazed around at the treasures, which reflected in his eyes."Did you think the gold of our halls was only in the rafters, sir Hobbit?" Eomer laughed, taking the lamp from Merry and holding it aloft. He led them through the treasury, passing by organized tables piled high with beaten gold and carefully strung beads of glass and precious gems, suits of gilded armor, and banners of green silk decorated the stone walls. Every artifact was lovingly displayed in sliding drawers with little numbers on pins."Most of the artifacts are Rohirric, some from before these lands were settled," Lothíriel explained, "but others," they now approached the back wall, and Zhan buri Zhan gasped audibly as the light fell on the face of a squat statue of a fat woman. The statue was carved of black basalt, her broad hands rested on her chest, and her boxy mouth was set in a grim expression; she squatted on her haunches so that her emphasized labia were framed between her calves. She was dark and beautiful, and her eyes were blue stones."Mada Võnn!" the short man rushed forward, holding out his hands as if he would grab the base of the idol and stopping at the last minute as he fell onto his knees in worship. The name triggered something in Eldarion's memory, and he closed his eyes to try to remember. "How came she here?" Zhan turned to look at Eomer with blended accusation and wonder."We don't know exactly," Lothíriel explained gently, "she was taken centuries ago from one of your people's holy sites when…""An unfortunate appropriation," Eomer diplomatically cut her off, "One which we seek to repair." He bowed to his guest, "Would this be a sufficient funeral gift? I would also grant you your pick of the yearlings as a sign of goodwill.""You…" Zhan's eyes lingered on the idol in wonder, "You honor us with the return of our goddess," he bowed very deeply and went off on a long litany of words of praise for the king of Rohan and his infinite kindness."Mada Võnn," Eldarion stepped up behind Merry and Elfwine, "is that meant to be Yavanna?" He whispered to the usually knowledgeable hobbit, but Merry only shook his head.Zhan's stoic front had crumbled upon catching sight of the idol. He was effervescent and excited and discussed with the king and queen how the statue should be moved and respectfully packed.Standing a bit back from the others, Eldarion found a convenient hook on the ceiling and set his lamp to gently swing from it. He studied the contents of the table with mild interest. His eyes were immediately called to a spear propped on a stand on the wall at his eye level. It was different in form than the other weapons and armor on display, and he found his hand drawn to it."Where did this one come from?" Eldarion asked when he felt the queen step up to his shoulder."That one's a mystery," she answered, "you may take it down." Eldarion reached for the polearm, an elegant glaive decorated with geometric knotwork and a blade as long as his arm. "the blade and the grip were found in the Entwash by a child. I had a new haft fashioned from the flesh of a fallen Huorn after the war. It will make a fine weapon," she glanced at Eldarion, but he was too fascinated by the fine engraving on the blade to notice her smirk, "it bears the markings both Dwarvish and Elvish smithcraft." She leaned her belly on the side of the table and watched the slash of light pass across the young man's face."I have never seen one like it." Eldarion rolled the spear in his hands; it was light and sharp, and he resisted the urge to spin it around in the small space. "This is the work of a master armorer.""I asked Lord Gimli about it, but he was unfamiliar with the style," she shrugged. "he would hardly admit to it, but I do not believe he even knew what kind of metal it was made of!""I know a smith who may be able to tell us more," Eldarion offered, secretly eager to carry the weapon himself, "this expedition will take us less than a day's ride to the city. I could take it to him after the funeral.""Oh, my dear, it would be such a bother, all that, to indulge a bored mother's idle curiosity.""I think it's interesting, my lady," he smiled sweetly, standing the spear upright. Elfwine stepped up behind him, glowering across to where his father was speaking to the squat man."He wants a whole cart just for the statue!" Elfwine told them in a whisper, rolling his eyes."That's the Vala Yavanna Kemetari you're talking about!" Eldarion corrected him with a deadpan expression, "We are her escort." Eldarion grinned.

Elfwine sighed, and, not for the first time, he told himself that slapping the Prince of Gondor would start an international incident.

Elfwine sighed, and, not for the first time, he told himself that slapping the Prince of Gondor would start an international incident.