The 24 Days of Christmas Challenge
Day 11: Fourteen Fickle Valar Manwë, the wind rushing and whirling his robe
about him in splendor, held in his left hand a goblet filled with
nectar from the vines of Taniquetil. Turning, he extended his right to
his mate, and Varda, clothed in raiment bedecked with her beloved
stars, rose to stand beside him.
Ulmo, not used to being in Valinor and greatly missing the sound of the
sea, looked towards his friend. Manwë had to laugh – never would the
Lord of Waters come to his table without some distinctive garment. This
time he wore a dark helm, foam-crested, and his raiment of mail
shimmered from silver down to shadows of green.
Aulë, in deference to the occasion, had shaken the dust of the
earth from his own robes, laid his axe and pick aside and stood holding
Yavanna’s hand in his. Robed in green herself, she smiled and the air
was filled with the sweet smell of flowers and wild berries.
Námo and Vairë had entered the room late, bowed to their Lord, and
stood by the places allotted to them. Varda shook her head. As always,
Vairë had woven their attire and, as always, the weave was perfect and
stunning. Nienna stood close by, holding her arms about her, stifling
the moan of supplication that was ever on her lips.
Irmo and Estë waited in silence, hearts turned inwards towards Irmo’s
dreams and visions, which wrapped around them in the deep rest offered
by Estë. A gentle clearing of his throat caused the two to turn towards
Manwë. They bowed and raised their own cups.
Tulkas, proud, brave, golden-haired Tulkas and Nessa, wind-whipped
themselves from their sudden entrance, stood with goblets raised.
Oromë, his hound ever at his side, laid his great horn on the table
in front of him, and extended his hand. Vána, birds perched on her
shoulders, stood and took it. Her smile caused his somber face to light
Some called them fickle, these Valar of Ilúvatar, but today, they stood as one. Today they would not be called the fourteen fickle Valar. Today they would be called constant.
“To Eru! May He be praised now and forever!”
"Of all the pantheons I've had to deal with, your group is the worst!"
fumed Illuvatar. "You want fancy trees, then you ruin them, you want
sparkly toys, then you fight over them and lose them! And you've been a
complete failure at bug-control, too. What am I going to do with you?
And don't answer that, it was a rhetorical question. You - all of you
there - you're on time out! One minute per year you've been alive. Yes,
in your rooms, and I better not hear the door slam."
"Just what I need," he grumbled to himself as a cacophony of door-slams were heard. "Fourteen fickle Valar, and the world isn't even half over yet."