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She had been dancing joyfully with her Maiar when it all began, not a single worry on any of their minds. The celebration was, mostly, for their work after all, for the harvest after the long growing season they had all labored through. Yavanna was always proud of her followers’ work, and always loved to celebrate it.
But then it had all gone terribly wrong. No one was prepared when Darkness fell, and when they had gone for her Trees…
Aulë and Vána had processed what was happening only seconds before she did, but it was fast enough for them to anticipate her thought and hold her back from throwing herself on Ezellohar in front of Laurelin and Telperion, which was for the best, as none of them had the power to stand against Ungoliant in that moment, even together.
If they had been prepared, perhaps the rest of the Valar would have done more than stare on in silent horror while the Children ran for cover and Yavanna’s horrified screams echoed through the chaos as the last drops of light were swallowed. While Melkor’s laughter was all that prevailed as he disappeared with the monstrous creature, and then, finally, Oromë sprung into action to pursue them.
The rest had been a blur. The Children had to be seen to, protected and calmed as best as they could be. The Valar had to consider their options against the power Melkor now held, in case he were to strike again.
There had been a tiny moment of hope, when Yavanna had realized that she might be able to rekindle the Trees with the light of the Silmarils, that all might not be lost, that the Ainur and Children could still live in the light, that Melkor hadn’t won… But then Fëanor refused them to her. Refused her the solution to their problem, and then blamed the Valar for failing to fix it. And it hardly mattered, because Melkor held the Silmarils anyway, and he had taken that hope with him. There was no way to get them back without risking the yet un-awoken Secondborn, and that hope the Light held was lost.
After the last fruit and flower and been coaxed out of the remains of the Trees and given to Aulë everyone had trickled home, leaving the skeletons of Tulukhedelgorûs and Ibrîniðilpathânezel behind, now standing stark and grotesque, silhouetted by Varda’s stars high above, the only light that remained out of Melkor’s reach. But Yavanna couldn’t bring herself to leave them. She remained on Ezellohar, green no more, curled tightly into herself on the blackened soil, now wet with her tears, and shivered with cold, for the first time ever. Ainur weren’t affected by external temperature, but in grief, she now understood how her creations must feel under the frost.
She heard Vána calling to her in the distance, but Yavanna couldn’t bring herself to sit up and call back, closing her eyes instead and waiting until Vána reached her.
“Do you want me to take you home?” she heard Vána whisper.
“No.” Not right now, it would only made her feel worse; she couldn’t leave the Trees, and Aulë was home and he was meant to be building the vessels, not being distracted by her. They’d find each other later. “Will you stay with me? I can’t leave them, not like this…”
“Of course.” Vána knelt beside her silently and brushed Yavanna’s hair back from her face.
“It’s my fault,“ Yavanna whispered. “I should have made the Trees stronger, I should have been ready to protect them. I should have been stronger.”
“None of this is your fault, Yavanna.” Vána gently continued to brush her hair with her fingers. “Your Trees were strong. It’s Melkor’s fault, and Ungoliant’s.”
“And now the Trees are gone, the Noldor are gone, so many Eldar are slain, half the Eldar are blaming us… If we don’t restore light soon all our living creations will wither too, Vána… I’m just not strong enough to save them.” Another lump rose in her throat, remembering how the Trees remained as dead as they were, even as she poured all the power she had into them.
“Shh,” Vána tried to soothe. “As for the last part your Maiar and mine are working on it. They’ll keep everything going until the vessels can be raised. You just need to rest, and then we’ll survive to fight Melkor another day.”
“I don’t want to fight,” she whispered hoarsely. “I don’t want to create anything else he can destroy.”
“We will always keep fighting,” Vána said firmly, with uncharacteristic fierceness behind her words. “That’s what he’ll never be able to destroy- us. Even with everything Melkor mars, or turns to darkness, the other Valar will keep creating new wonders in Arda and protecting it for the Children, because we love it, and because we love them, and he’ll never be able to stop us from doing that. When he broke the Lamps you made the Trees. We may not win this fight tomorrow, but we will prevail. We always do. For the Children, we must. You’re not alone, he is.”
Yavanna nodded slowly, finally sitting up and letting Vána pull her against her, resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“I miss the Trees too.” Vána’s voice was soft again now. “We all do. I just don’t want to see this hurt you, I know you loved them even more deeply than the rest of us.”
Yavanna almost smiled, and some instinct inside her made her begin to automatically tell Vána that she’d be fine soon. But her little sister was strong, she didn’t need Yavanna to protect her, and Vána probably wouldn’t believe her even if she did lie.
“I did,” she sighed. “I hate the trouble this caused for the Eldar here, for all our living creations, for us. But I also loved them too, I never expected to lose them.”
“We keep making the mistake of thinking that everything will last forever, I think.”
“I wish they would,” Yavanna answered. “Thank you for staying here with me.”
“Some things you will never lose, Yavanna,” Vána told her gently, and Yavanna finally managed a real smile.