Birds often imprint on Manwë
Absolutely! At first I thought of ducks but then I thought...you said birds in general. Therefore, all birds love Manwë, and it only hinders him occasionally (and he would never say).
Manwë, wise, strong...bird dad.
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Manwë blows out balrogs like candles on a birthday cake
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As Manwë peered into his wife’s face, through the shadows of Varda’s hair, glittering spills of silver amongst the black, and saw in those eyes the lights far greater than the Trees or the Lamps of old. He thought that many of things his eyes could pierce, through darkness and gloom, across swaths of land and sea, compared ill to the brilliance of her stare, serene and magnificent and bright, and was taken into a world of star-foamed black seas, and spun about like a sea-wind throwing about salt in the air; and peace came upon him, the turbulence of Melkor and the Noldar fading away.
Peace was in Varda’s stare, and home was in the light-filled gems of her eyes.
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How would Manwë feel about gryphons-@outofangband
Apologies again for taking so long to reply - I once again got sidetracked into reading the mythology, it was very interesting, so thank you!
I had never considered gryphons before but I love the idea and I think Manwë would too! Gryphons as kings of beasts (like the eagles) and guardians of the divine just fits so well.
Okay, so now I’ve got a hilarious image of Manwë, Varda and their big guard dog gryphons in Ilmarin (not that they’d need guard gryphons...maybe more like a bunch of big fantastical pets).
And Melkor...just sort of gingerly sidestepping around them.
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You can’t tell me Manwë did not turn himself into a great eagle and bore some elf-children and flew through the skies of Valinor, and Varda watched with affection as her husband laugh as he turned back, tackled by the children, playfully begging to be given mercy.
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Okay, but like, now I’m going to cry because I’m just imagining Manwë weeping into Varda’s arms after sentencing Melkor to imprisonment because that was still his brother, whom he love and adored, and many of land was wrought and torn during their siege of Utumno, perhaps even hating himself for not realizing or trying to save him. And Varda wants to strangle Melkor for causing her love such grief, and I-
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If you don’t think Varda doesn’t paint Manwë’s body with droplets of starlight during moments of leisure and he doesn’t stroke the scars she no doubt bore from Melkor with his own paint, like clouds in the sky, than you’re a coward.
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Summary: Varda is the Kindler of Stars; and to Manwë, King of the Valar, he needs her starlight more often than not.
[Read on AO3 here]
Without Varda at his side, Manwë always found himself drawn into the deepest gloom, with shadowy thoughts rolling through his mind like dark clouds filling the skies in every corner and depth. His heart longed for her, the brilliance of her eyes, and the sweet sounds of her laughter, one so lovely that no wind he could dare muster in the loveliest of springs could compare in its chime. But moments she drew away, to kindle more stars in the darkening skies, the valiant guardians against the shadows and darkness; and to Manwë he thought those shadows fled to his mind, though he knew against it. His fingers softly drew over the laurel of knitted starlight at his brow, an old gift from his love. Soft to the touch and light of warmth it was that for a moment the darkness in his mind fled away, scurrying to the deepest crevices.
Then, the patter of light feet upon hardened stone and rustled clouds came to his ears, like the first winds to melt from the brittle cold of winter to the flower-touched breeze of spring in the lands of Arda. And, like the first stars glimmering out from the darkness of night, bright and brilliant, his wife appeared, garbed in a long sweeping robe of night, with wisps of clouds upon its helms, and a string of silvery light around her waist to serve as a belt. Pale arms glimmered softly like a pond glittering of moonlight, smoothed and untouched, and dark locks framed her proud face, with its high cheekbones, carved jaw, and soft lips. The glow of star twinkled in her gaze, a comfort that burned the shadows from his mind. And Manwë could not keep the smile from his lips at her sight. Long and thick her dark hair fell, sweeping down to brush the glimmering white-gray titles, with drips of stars knitted into her hair like gems and a wispy crown set with the brightest of stars upon rested on her brow. Of their hands they melded both their crowns, together in the times of old, and Manwë remembered those days fondly.
Rising from his throne, garbed in long robes of sky-blue slashes with cloud-white, he strolled upon light and swift feet toward his wife, uncaring if he appeared too eager. Perhaps he did it only because he missed her so, or because it always brought a smile to his wife’s lips. Maybe it was both.
He brushed his lips against hers, feeling that smile of his wife grew, her fingers rising to caress his chest and another to slip in his silvery hair, stroking the strands. His arms drew about her waist, pulling her closer, and tilted his head down to press against her forehead, his eyes fluttering close. Darkness bursted away by the sudden springing of light within his mind, so often occurring whenever his wife was with him. Varda could dispel the deepest and blackest of darkness with a mere glance, he thought.
The worries of the world and of Melkor bled away from him as he drew his wife closer. Her hand returned to his chest, and a ripple of music danced within his thoughts; her note of the great Music of the World. And he met hers with his own, twining the rolling of winds with the wheeling of light, throwing away the murky scent of evil and the dark shadows of the night.
They were upon his throne before he could realize it, and another kiss was laid upon his lips, a soft hum flowing past as he stroked her sides, revealing in her warmth, of her brilliance, how so easily she could mend the worries of the world from his mind and calm his spirit. Though she kindled stars in the night, she had often said her greatest light was seen in his eyes, like light blushing clouds and brightening the skies, of glimmering skies upon the seas and winds carrying her warmth through all the corners of the world from the Veil of Arda to the deepest crevasses where the shadows whimpered away. Only she could make him feel something akin to shyness at those words; and even now, as she traced his chest and laid another kiss to his chin, she murmured it, in a voice half-longing and half-loving. And he returned it in mirrored whispers of his own, holding her tight against his chest, pressing another kiss to her head. Warmth flooded him like fire kindled soft and gentle, though overwhelming in its sweetness, melting away the cold of the air that often seemed to accompany him during Varda’s time away.
And there they rested for a time, as night bled to day and day to night. Many knew not to disturb the King and Queen of the Valar during these moments, when they sought comfort in one another, away from the growing darkness of Melkor that filled the air with tainted smells and the skies with horrid darkness. In part, Manwë would sing to his Queen, and then Varda would take up the song, in a voice as light as her stars and as calming as the night; and his words would falter at her voice and be drawn to it like a bird drawn to the southern skies during the coming of winter, until that is all he wanted to hear. Many things Manwë was capable of hearing, but when Varda sang, none could dare compare, not the crying of birds in flight nor rustling of flowers in grass, or the soft echoes of the mountains in their somber stony thrones.
None could compare to Varda, his Starlight Queen. And with her in his arms or her at his side, then what else would he need to fear of the world? Darkness banished at her coming, and light burned in his chest at her smile and eyes. With Varda, he could conquer any trial set out, even if the darkness was thickly-strewn. With her light, he could bare it all and passed through unhurt. With Varda, he knew what peace truly was.
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happy pride month silm lgbts
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I just love the thought of the valar just changing their heights at will
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Eönwë: Manwë is very funny when he's wet.
Melkor: What you do with my brother is none of my business...
Eönwë: No, no, Varda takes pictures of him when he bathes.
Eönwë: He always looks very offended.
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*the Feanturi show up to a feast at Taniquetil *
Manwë: Welcome, Lords Namó and Irmo, to our glorious feast! *leans down to whisper to Varda* Who invited the weirdos?
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Varda and Manwë
Picrew.me image ~ https://picrew.me/image_maker/399481
I had to colorize some things lol
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More dark!Namo au stuff
After the chaos has been stilled, and the fëar from Mandos have all been settled in the Gardens of Lorien, Irmo decides that he has to speak with Namó. Leaving the Gardens under the care of his Maia Silindo, the Visionsmaster makes a journey to Angband in a very unconventional way. Using his “Mirror of Dreams”, Irmo travels through the dreams of a specific individual (Namó) and is able to materialize in the same room with that person.
Namó is surprised at Irmo’s visit, thinking that the Vala of Visions preferred his solitude. At first, Irmo tries to talk some sense into the Doomsman, speaking of what had just occurred in Valinor. Namó however, only laughs, claiming that “Manwë deserved the chaos in his precious Valinor”, and “How terrified the king must have been in the face of such disorder.”
This angers Irmo, sayings that yes, Manwë was horrified at what happened and was absolutely clueless about how to deal with the fëar. This is why Namó must forget about Angband and whatever lies he was told by Melkor, and return to take up his post as Doomsman of the Valar. Namó refuses, telling his brother of all that the Dark Vala has promised. “Think of it, brother. No Manwë to confine us to a corner of his kingdom, hiding us away like…like embarrassments! We will be given authority and power as we have never known it!”
In response, Irmo shakes his head in disbelief. Out of desperation, he takes Namó’s hands, saying : “Please, Namó. Manwë has know knowledge of what we do. It is only we two with the power of the spirits. I cannot do it alone. Come back with me, bring the stolen fëar, and Manwë will show you mercy. I know he will.”
At first, Namó seems to think about the prospect. But in the end, it was only an act. Sneering, he pushes Irmo away, sending him careening through the dream realm and back through the Mirror of Dreams, the Vala of Visions is returned to the Gardens of Lorien, wounded.
@niphredilien @halfwaytheremama @deepspace-vulture @finwaytootired
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Manwë: Beleriand has sunk, come to Aman.
Círdan: The last ship is sailing We-
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Manwë: Ah, Lord Namó, how is your work with Melkor going?
Namó: Very well, your lordship. Let me show you. *turns to Melkor* Melkor, what do you do when life gives you lemons?
Melkor: Uuh, throw them at people?
Namó: *sighs in disappointment*
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How does Manwë feel about flightless birds or even dodos
Hi! First of all, I’m very sorry for how long this took me to reply to - I’ve gone to see family this week and it’s been a bit hectic but I have been thinking about this question, I promise! Second of all, it’s a weird ramble, so please don’t feel obliged to read it all!
You mention dodos (which I love) and this sent me deep down the rabbit hole of thinking about creationism vs evolution in Tolkien which, whilst not relevant to the question, was very interesting! Especially in regards to the idea of flightless birds being created, rather than evolving after the lack of a predator, or the opening of a habitable niche after a major evolutionary catastrophic event. Why would flightless birds have been created? They occupy an evolutionary place in our world in relation to land (eg. rhea’s, ostriches, kiwi’s etc) or water (eg. penguins) - but I wonder how you could argue for their creation in Arda. ‘Just for fun, these will have wings but shan’t use them!’; I love it.
To delve deeper, you’d have to go into Tolkien’s own views on creationism etc. and I won’t go into that because a) I’d have to use my brain to formulate the ideas I read about and my brain is currently on holiday/total mush and b) this is a fun question! So I’ll stick to a fun answer.
Ultimately in my mind, and I am biased because I love Manwë, he’s a benevolent good figure as a foil to Melkor (who is himself a complex figure). I know there is some discourse as to their passivity in later ages/the role of free will/their judgements on good vs evil, but I am an unapologetic Valar supporter and also here for a good time, not an academic time - that said, the conversation is very interesting. However, at the end of the day, I like the Valar and I like Manwë. He’s neat, he’s nice and most importantly, he loves all birds regardless of what they are. Big, small, flightless or not.
I’ve also got a personal theory about birds - they link nearly every bit of the world. The skies, the seas, islands, mountains, trees. Flightless birds, or ones that can only fly a limited amount, are included in this. In a way, much like Manwë, they connect all aspects of the world. Perhaps different birds represent different Valar - ravens for Mandos, owls for Varda who sees all in the night sky, kestrels for Oromë, penguins (a flightless bird!) for Ulmo, swallows for Yavanna in the spring. So in that regard, I think all birds are special to him - like the rest of his family.
Don’t know who dodos connect to, if anyone, but I imagine he’d love them too! By actual accounts, as they were rather unbothered by humans (sadly), they were most likely rather sweet. Manwë likes birds, birds like Manwë. I don’t think he’d think they were lesser in any way (again, you could go off on a tangent about the Valar and their views on men, orcs etc. but I won't). My headcanon of Manwë is as a counsel of mercy and a healer of broken things, so I don't think he would think they are worth any less than, say, eagles (sapience or not).
TL;DR Manwë loves all birds, flightless or not, because they are not only representative of the ones closest to him, but because he’s fairly non-discriminatory. Dodos are most definitely included!
Please bear in mind that I do need to reread the Silm, it’s been awhile, so this is pretty much all headcanon!
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Here’s some more Feanturi/dark!Namo au HC’s that I’ve been thinking about.
Irmo’s concern for his brother and the fëar soon become more real, when it is found out that Namó and his Maiar have left the Halls of Mandos and traveled to Angband. The Doomsman also takes with him the fëar of the Fëanorians that are still in the process of healing and are still under an enchanted sleep that Namó can put them in.
Now, the Halls of Mandos are in absolute chaos, with fëar running loose around Valinor crying out in pain and heartache for their previous lives. The other Valar are not sure how to respond to such a thing taking place, they just look on in stunned wide-eyed horror. In the end, Manwë begs Irmo to do something. Rallying his Maiar, the Visionsmaster is able to wrangle up the hysterical fëar and bring them to the Gardens of Lorien.
After the chaos has finally been somewhat stilled, Manwë scolds Irmo for other having kept a better watch on Namó. Irmo says nothing in response, keeping his anger to himself.
@deepspace-vulture @halfwaytheremama @finwaytootired @irmolorienasks-imagines @niphredilien
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