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restitutor-orbis · 3 years

Text

With Starlight

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]

Ship: Manwë/Varda

Tags: Fluff

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.

#the lord of the rings #The Silmarillion #Manwë Súlimo #varda elentári #manwë x varda #varda x manwë #varda: queen of the endless innumerable stars #manwë: carrier of the winds of songs #fanfic #my fanfic #my writing #lotr #jrr tolkien

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