Chapter Text
There was the sound of the wind. A cool, whispering sound, high above the ground. Its whispy softness swirled around her as she gazed over the dark landscape, its mountains and forests below spread far into the horizon all around, the work of Illúvatar.
She was called Menelwen, sky maiden, a Maia and the youngest daughter of Manwë. Hers was a lonely existence, tending the skies. Yet her vantage point gave her endless beauty to see. For she would chase the night, and hover in the twilight of dusk and dawn. Her appointed task was simple, to bring a small amount of light into the night sky, visible in the north. And though she was not the only being to bring this particular light, hers was the soft and ethereal spectrum of blue.
She hovered near the edge of a peak, the soft night wind fluttering her shadowy hair and pale blue gown. She extended her hand and exhaled, feeling the soft light going forth from her spirit into the night sky in airy ribbons of silvery blue.
She looked down, seeing the northern landscape below as it was softly illuminated, and she looked upon the vast boreal forests, in which she took great joy. But no greater love did she have than the stars, for when they were brought into being, they lit her night sky with their own gentle light. And she felt somehow less lonely amidst their subtle brilliance.
And she took joy in the dawn, for it was the most pure and peaceful time of the day. At this moment, she gazed serenely toward the Gates of Morning, seeing the first gentle glow of the dawn coming over the land. Soft shades of blue and purple were first, followed by the glow of pink and the softest gold. As the light of the new day opened in the sky, she inhaled, reveling in the beauty of the sky as it changed color, softly revealing the hope of new life. And at last the panoramic landscape below was illuminated in all the pastel colors of the dawn, accentuated by the glitter of the purest shimmering gold.
Her spirit was at peace, existing in harmony with all of the beauty of creation. And soon she would retreat, as the daylight became brighter, to the forests, where she would linger until the twilight came again. And often she would wander the land, moving freely through space and time, hovering in nature's shadows, for she was a reticent being and not one for drawing attention to herself. And this is how her existence was, until one day when she was wandering beneath the shade of the forests of Middle Earth, she beheld a sight that would change her existence forever.
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As Menelwen traversed Middle Earth, she came upon the kingdom of Thingol and the Sindarin Elves. She had observed their civilization with interest from afar, as many of her kind were enamored of the Children of Illúvatar, yet she had never ventured too close, until this day.
She had wandered unseen along the forests which led along the banks of the great River Sirion. Though she lingered in shade, she observed the river in midday, the sun's light sparkling like stars along its surface, its mesmerizing beauty bringing her peace. And the landscape near the river in a certain place was the most serene and beautiful of all, for in the gentle breezes of a springtime afternoon, graceful stems of soft purple flowers swayed in the wafting air.
Menelwen ventured closer, near a small gray stone watchtower of the Elves. It was placed near the edge of the river, surrounded by the same purple sage blossoms. And amidst those blossoms her eyes beheld a greater beauty than all that she had ever seen before. For sitting by the edge of the water enjoying the sunlight was an Elf, a simple Marchwarden. He was dressed in dark gray clothing with silvery armor engraved with the river upon its breast. His dark hair flowed in the soft breezes back from his beautiful face, and his eyes reflected the river in every way, dancing from within with the brightest starlight. He was of gentle bearing, with high cheekbones and delicate features. And at intervals he would reach out and tenderly caress the sage blossoms, as he enjoyed them so much. And at the sight of him her heart was broken, never to be the same again.
For a long time unbeknownst to him, she tarried, hovering near the ground and above by air, seeking his presence wherever he was, by sunlight and by moonlight. And the longer she was near him, the more her heart was filled with love, until one day it was too great to bear.
In her usual place near the river, where she knew he would come, she stayed and looked upon him as always. And each day she came a bit closer, and would at times reach out, and try to touch him. But it was all for nothing, as she was but a spirit, and he was incarnate. She was, in her position, powerless, for she could not reach him through the ether, nor do anything to let him know she was there. Occasionally she would pass by like a soft wind, yet he would never know that it was she who was there, causing his hair to blow back from his beautiful face, or his beloved blossoms to sway in the softness of the air.
But on this day she saw him come down to the edge of the river, as he would often do, and she saw him standing there amidst his purple blossoms. His eyes reflected the river, the midday light glittering within them like a sea of stars. And she observed not only his outer beauty, but that of his gentle spirit, which was more precious to her than all the treasures of Arda.
And it was in this day that she was utterly overcome. And she sat, unseen, behind the little tower where he stayed, and there in the tall grasses which grew near the river, she wept. No longer could she hold this great love within her heart, without it destroying her.
And in that moment of realization, she knew what she must do. She set out, through Ilmen, where through time and space her immortal spirit sought her mother, Varda, the wife of Manwë. And when she came to her, Menelwen fell broken on her knees before her.
"Mother", she called out. "I cannot bear this anymore!". And she lay at Varda's feet and sobbed, and her tears were so many, and so sincere, that the river beneath grew that day in its volume, and its waters came up higher upon the banks where the little watchtower stood, and its edies watered the precious purple blossoms which surrounded the tower.
And Varda in her great wisdom and compassion came to listen, as Menelwen poured out her heart.
"I must go to him", she sobbed, "for I love him."
And Varda in her great wisdom and kindness was herself brought to tears for Menelwen's brokenness, as she had compassion upon all of the beings of Arda. And she saw that her daughter's spirit was sincere.
"Please", Menelwen sobbed, with what felt like her last breath. "Please let me go to him, or I will perish."
Varda nodded. It was not the first time she had seen the likes of this. She recalled Melian, who took physical form in order to abide with Elwe.
She looked with great sorrow upon Menelwen, who was still sobbing in a heap upon the ground.
"You may go to him", she said at last.
Menelwen's heart was given lightness and peace at this, for she was a minor Maia and as such needed permission to do such things. Though she knew that Varda's permission only extended so far, she would have a bit of time to be in the world below. Yet in order to make it a permanent arrangement, more would need to be done.
"Thank you, Mother", Menelwen sniffed, and bowed her head again. And at length Varda bid her to rise, and Menelwen once again went out into the skies and the forests of Beleriand, this time with a purpose in her heart.