Eönwë, ere the breaking of the dawn, had forsaken the blessed realm for the furthest reaches of the East; and he beheld in humble adoration the rising of his secret beloved, Árien; the first in all the world to rejoice as the cold veil of night fled before her ethereal radiance.

From his high throne Manwë gazed upon the woman in bemusement, deeming there to be few among the Quendi, Atani or Khazâd that should introduce themselves so brazenly to the Elder King. "Well met indeed, little elf."

"Men profane the name of Ilúvatar as readily as they draw breath." said Manwë. Great and terrible stormclouds he issued forth, such that from east to west all the world was smothered in ashen grey; and the very heavens quaked under the full majesty of the Elder King's wrath.

The autumnal winds of the Elder King whistled fiercely all about the land, arising amid the quiet clefts of the valley as a mighty chorus that shook the very mountains to their core; yet they were tempered in their wrathfulness, and the skies were cloudless.

"In all the times I hath held counsel with the Almighty, ne'er once could I discern what governs their eccentric behaviour."

If the Blessed One among the Aratar, the one who is closest to the mind of the only master of the Flame Imperishable, does not glimpse into their oddity, surely I am free for the expectation of doing so.

Beautiful is beyond all doubt the song with which the wind now blows, flowing from the horizon where the skies touch the sea, lighting up all through the fire of love inside and blazing the darkness away.

For ravishing can be the light shone by two spirits in a single though, two hearts when they beat as one!

Although late in a manner not unusual to me, I second the musings of the Mistress of Gold Flame and the Lord of the Breath of Arda. I cannot, for the light of me, fathom many of the ways and actions of the Children. But wine, that I understand.

"Stand ye tall in the face of adversity, for Eru Ilúvatar seeth thy steadfastness. Set thy heart aflame with holy purpose, that ye may reject the honeyed lies of the deceiver Melkor. No thrall art thou, spineless and broken, to wallow in servitude; but walk freely in the light!"

Cpt. Gen. Maegcalen “Thou wert forced into 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑵𝑮!” roared Eönwë, now terrible indeed to behold; the storm of the Elder King’s wrath given material form. All remnant of his demure composure became expunged in the face of Maegcalen’s paltry excuses, and the Herald’s bellow thundered across >

"I pray that the blessed respite of Estë findeth its way thither unto thee when the night cometh; for it hath forsaken Manwë Súlimo."

"Speakest thou not of fair semblance, little Maia, when thine own hath become so marred by hatred."

❝Greater art thou, but not improved. It is not Manwë Súlimo who flounders amid a black veil of deceit, eager to impress that which loveth him not; thou hast swallowed the bait whole, enraptured by the honeyed promises of a liar.❞

❝By the might of Eönwë Urion wert thou humbled, O Gorthaur; and now thou thinkest to contend with 𝒎𝒆? But, if thou wouldst prove thyself my better, come forth full of vigour from behind my brother's skirts. Grant thy deeds as much weight as thy hollow words.❞

❝How apt that thou doth concede Melkor knoweth not his own limitations. So enamoured with delusions of grandeur that shall prove his unmaking. I will descend from Taniquetil when prophesied moment cometh; and upon the plains of Arda I will strive with him, as it is foretold.❞

"Ever at the Lord's work, O Astaldo."