Heart of Flame: A Tale Of Sauron

The Darkness and the Stars

In that hour was made a Darkness that seemed not lack but a thing made of its own: for it was indeed made by malice out of Light, and it had power to pierce eye, and to enter heart and mind, and strangle the very will.

~ The Silmarillion, Of the Darkening of Valinor ~

***

A great crash of thunder roared through the turbulent heavens overhead. Vantaro's bright eyes filled with tears as his sister gathered him to her where they huddled in their mother's study. Luimëníssë had dragged three chairs by the brightly burning hearth and draped a silken sheet over it to create a small tent. With a small lamp on the stone floor between them and the glow of the fire, she had hoped to make a haven for the child as their mother pored through her books and parchments, trying to make sense of what was happening in Aman.

"Do not fear," Luimëníssë chided calmly, though her heart beat wildly at sound of the fiery crashes overhead. "It is only Oromë riding bright, shining Nahar with a grand host, searching for enemies of Valinor."

"Oromë?" Vantaro spoke for the first time since the Darkness from Valmar had spread heavily throughout the land.

"Of course. You know the tales of Oromë. One of the Valar who was last to leave the lands to the east, who found grandfather and the other Eldar of the first Waking at the shores of the Starlit Lake and led them to Aman."

Vantaro's little brow furrowed. "Lands to the east? You mean there is more to the world?"

"Yes, but do not ask me because I do not know much of it," she laughed lightly. 

"I wish to see those places," he said wistfully, resting into her side.

Luimëníssë bit back a rush of tears and kissed the top of his fair head. "Perhaps someday."

Vantaro fell into a restless sleep in a mound of furs, his hand curled around the metal frame of the lamp. The Darkness even permeated to the inner reaches of their home, filling the inhabitants with horrific, unnamed dread. A faint wailing was carried on the wild wind off the rocking sea. Cries of the Teleri carried across the land, mourning the loss of Light and the fearing the end of all things.

"Anything?" Luimëníssë asked coming alongside her mother and pulling a shawl tighter around her trembling shoulders.

Nanwë shook her dark head, her ankle length hair draping loose around her shoulders where she stood by her study table, her eyes scanning a book. She snapped it shut with an aggravated groan and rubbed a hand over her forehead. "I wish they would cease that confounded weeping. It serves no purpose. Not when we must discover what has happened and if anything can be done for it."

In times of stress, Nanwë was unapologetically Noldor. Luimëníssë approached her mother from behind and tugged her arms around her shoulders, resting her head on the back of her neck. "Atar and Náretarnon will send word soon from the City. Don't fret, mother. All will be well."

Nanwë turned towards her and braced her hands on the sides of her face. She pressed a kiss to her forehead. "My shining daughter. May you always bear the Light within you, even in times such as this. If only for your troublesome mother's sake."

"You aren't troublesome."

Nanwë scoffed and her grey eyes brimmed with tears. "I have held you back from your joy too many times because of my own fears. I hate to think that things may end now and you will not have lived your existence as fully as you could have because of me."