To Travel With Wings

In the coming months, as Silnar recuperated, she learned much about the Avari way of life. These cousins were so like her in form, yet so different in life. They bore the slender, curved ears and long life, but that was all she shared with them. Like their name, Moriquendi, they were dark of hair and eyes. Their skin was the earth and Silnar had never before met any who were as close to the Spirit of Arda as these Avari.

Their lives were led simply in their tents and the surrounding area. They hunted for their food in the forest and the sea, and wore the skins of animals. They were a quiet people in that they never wasted words, they never wasted anything. These Avari were strong in mind, body, and spirit. There was great love amongst them and every night there were communal gatherings where food was given and stories were told. These Avari knew nothing of Gil-galad or Elrond or even Sauron. They knew Morgoth, though, and his evil creations. Their stories and songs were about brave warriors and their deeds against the minions of the deposed Vala. It was rough music, wild like nature and unrefined. It was nothing like the gatherings of Elrond’s home and Silnar loved it. These people had touched something deep inside her soul and had set it free.

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“Will you share a story tonight, Silnar of Imladris? We have gifted you with many of ours, now you shall share.”

Silnar looked at the eager faces illuminated by the fire. What story could she tell that would be worthy of these people? Their stories far surpassed any that she knew. They would not care to hear about the Last King of the Noldor or the treachery of Fëanor’s sons. Closing her eyes, Silnar sifted through her thoughts. There had to be something…..of course, a story Glorfindel had told to her when they were first becoming friends.

“Do you have a story for us, Cousin?” Minyatúr asked, once more.

“I do. It was told to me by one who was born in Aman and who died and was born again. It is about a young Maia named Elvea who served Aulë. She was very beautiful, even for one that is a Maia. Her hair was dark like pitch and her eyes were coal. Her skin was darkened from Aulë’s forge, but she did not mind. In her labors of carrying water to the Vala and helping him hold his heavy masterpieces, she became tall and strong like a warrior.

“Though Elvea loved to work with her hands and listen to the great Aulë in his work, she longed for the sky at night, to see the creations of Elentári. Though her ears rang with silver peals of clanging metal, her heart longed to beat in tune with the eagles that spread their wings in the heavens.

“But that could never be, for she had sworn her service to Aulë. He was good at heart, but prized the beauty and fortitude of Elvea above all his workers and he grew jealous if her thoughts strayed far from his forge. She was not allowed to leave his forge for fear she would not return. Elvea bore this with silent pain for she loved Aulë, but she loved also the stars.

“Kementári, wife of Aulë, would often visit her husband’s forge. She knew well the longing in Elvea’s heart and yearned to give the Maia what she wished for. Kementári came to Elvea after Aulë had retired and said, ‘I know the longing in thy heart, to be amongst the stars in the sky. They are not of my domain, but I can help thee. By my grace, every night, thou shall become a raven, a bird that is dark of feather. In this the night will hide thee and thou might fly amongst the stars that thou cherish. Once the lights of the trees mingle, however, and Laurelin dominates, thou must return to the forge for thy guise will lift and thou shall once more be Elvea.’

“In great eagerness, Elvea agreed and she became a raven and flew through the window in the forge and into the night sky. She reveled in the feel of the wind through her feathers and feasted on the brightness of the stars. So great was her joy that Elvea did not notice the mingling of the lights until it was too late. In mid air she lost her feathers and became Elvea once more and plummeted to the ground. Kementári had been watching Elvea and laid a carpet of flowers for her to land in. Racing to the forge, Elvea was too late. In great anger, Aulë stood in front of the entrance.

“Elvea fell to her knees, weeping, begging for forgiveness. Behind Elvea stood Kementári, her eyes not leaving the fury of her husband’s face. Aulë could not speak he was so angry and motemote the ground with his heavy hammer. Reaching out with his hands, he placed them on Elvea and caused her body to freeze in its position.

“Kementári gasped and cried, ‘What hast thou done?’

“Aulë set his hammer down and glared at his wife. ‘I have preserved her beauty so that she may never leave my forge again. I wish her beauty for me alone.’

“Now, Varda had heard the argument from her home and the winds carried her to Aulë’s forge. On seeing the state of Elvea, her eyes grew sad. Gently placing a hand on the shoulder of Kementári, Varda squeezed in reassurance. Kneeling before the prone body of Elvea, Varda wrapped her arms around the Maia and cleansed her with starry tears.

“Elvea gasped when she saw how close she was to Varda, who bore the night sky in her eyes. Varda spoke softly to Elvea, but clearly. ‘Tell me, daughter of the forge, what is it that thou wants? I will grant thee what thy heart desires.’

“Sighing gently, Elvea said, ‘To be amongst the stars, Varda.’

“Standing, Varda began to sing and a glowing nimbus enveloped the Maia of Aulë who began to rise. Up she floated until she became a twinkle in the sky. Aulë was angry at the loss of his most precious Maia and complained loudly to the Queen of the Valar.
“Varda, however, rebuked him, ‘Thou lost all privileges to Elvea with thy selfishness. Elvea is now a gift to all who wish to gaze upon her beauty.’

“So, now, every night, when Isil rises, a blue star can be seen in the sky. It shines brightest, however, when the moon is setting and the sun is rising, so that Aulë can look out of his window and once more see Elvea.”


Silnar finished and silence greeted her tale. Slowly, Minyatúr rose and bowed deeply.

“A worthy tale, Silnar of Imladris, and one that shall be retold so that none will forget the price of coveting.”

Blushing, Silnar nodded her head. The night was beginning to deepen and the surrounding Avari began to drift towards their tents. Minyatúr stood beside Silnar and searched the sky for Elvea. Silnar directed his gaze to the bright, blue star.

“Do you believe that she is there?”

Silnar nodded. “I believe that she watches over us. Perhaps even now she brings tales to Varda of the Avari across the sea that search for home.”

“I am glad, Silnar of Imladris, that you have come to this village. You bring with you the sensation of great peace and happiness.”

Turning away from her, Minyatúr departed for his tent and left Silnar to contemplate her future and her past.