Exploring Westernesse [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Power of the Deep

Out of the great sea arose a figure, tall and kingly. Of great stature was he, at least ten feet tall. He had black and silver hair, and a short beard. His armor was a deep sea blue, with a cape of translucent blue fish scales. Míril was amazed and fell to her knees.

"Arise, child." Ulmo flashed a small smile at her.

He began to shrink in size until he was about the height of an ordinary elf. Ulmo took a step out of the water and onto the shore, taking Míril's hand and raising her to her feet.

"While the honor you do me is appreciated, it is not needed." Ulmo looked at her seriously. "For though you are more strong in spirit and worthy of song than you know, I do not require homage."

"My Lord," she finally managed to say through a rush of tears. "Lord Ulmo! You look different."

"That is my name, yes." He almost laughed. "And Míril Fëanoriel is yours. Bearer of the Silmaril. As for my looks, I can take most any form I wish."

She accepted his answer with a small shrug before continuing. "Lord I would have given up long before the end had you not given me your assistance," she insisted, shaking her head.

Ulmo agreed with her. "You are not the first that I have helped."

Míril supposed this was true. Between giving Tuor special armor and directions, saving Elwing by turning her into a swan, and guiding Finrod and Turgon to found their cities, Ulmo seemed to be the only Vala that actively helped the free peoples.

"Lord Ulmo," Míril began slowly. "Why do you continue to help the people of Middle Earth?"

Ulmo flashed her a tiny, wry smile. He shook his head and turned away from her, back towards the sea. He avoided the question. "There are others who wish to meet you."

Míril did not push her question, instead intrigued by his statement. She looked past the Vala and back into the water of the sea cove. The water began to bubble in two spots, the surface of the water agitating. Out of the left spot rose a woman. Tall and fair she was, hair of yellowy gold and clothes of turquoise. The other was fair skinned as well, but with hair of silver like the Teleri, and clothes dark blue as the deep sea. Both had eyes of varying shades of blue.

"These you have seen as well. They are Ossë and Uinen, my chief Maiar." Ulmo gestured to them and both left the water to join the two on land.

"It is very nice to meet you in person, Míril," Uinen smiled immediately and took the half-elf's hands in her own. "For you helped return the Light to us!"

"Thank you, Lady Uinen." Míril bowed her head. She instantly liked Uinen.

Ossë cocked an eyebrow but nodded. "We are grateful for that, indeed. I am Ossë. Pleasure to meet you." He inclined his head in greeting as he stood with his arms folded.

"The pleasure is mine, Lord Ossë," Míril smiled at him sweetly, determined to kill his frowning face with kindness.

Suddenly though, she grew solemn as her mind drifted to Ulmo's help in her own life. Míril raised her face to meet the Lord of Waters' own deep, sapphire blue eyes. She had a question on her tongue which she could not bring herself to broach.

Yet Ulmo sensed her inquiry. "Ask, Míril Fëanoriel."

At that name, Míril seemed to grow stronger in mind and spirit. "Ulmo. Could we have saved her?"

The Valar visibly saddened for a moment before quickly hiding it. He knew of whom she spoke. "Your daughter's spirit was alike to Fëanor's."

"Ulmo." Míril shook her head and felt herself growing nervous, so repeated her question. "Could we have saved her?"

With a sigh, he responded. "I do not know. Mandos may have the answers you seek, but I do not."

She nodded, letting her head bow towards the ground. She looked at the waves near her feet and felt tears coming to her eyes. She and her husband had done their best in raising Tinneth. They had done all they thought best for her. Yet in the end they had failed. She hoped now that they had not failed her other children by leaving them in Middle Earth.

She buckled over as she thought more of Tinneth and what had happened there. The pain in her side increased exponentially. With a sudden cry, she collapsed to her knees, falling into the shallow waves as they washed over the sand. Uinen looked immediately concerned, taking her hands again.

"Breathe, child. Breathe," she wiped the sweat from Míril's forehead and cooled her with her power. Uinen's touch felt like a cold, damp cloth on her warm skin.

Ulmo looked at her long. "You have yet to see Lorien and Estë? That should be your next stop, eager one. You came to Valinor for healing, not to play."

Míril began to cry then, and Uinen embraced her. Ossë shuffled his feet, watching as his wife cared for the half elf. Ulmo bent down next to her and touched her side where the pain was intensifying. The pain began to subside and Míril was able to free her mind from the traumatic images.

"Shh, little one," Uinen hugged her tightly. "Lady Estë and Lord Irmo will make all this right for you."

Míril nodded into Uinen's shoulder and stood with her help, feeling the place the wound had been four years ago. She felt the scar and sighed. It was a constant reminder to her and her husband of their failure.

Ulmo looked at her deep in the eyes. "Míril Fëanoriel. Bearer of a Silmaril. Warrior of Middle Earth and Guardian of the Line of Luthien. Take care of yourself."

Míril almost laughed at this charge. It was something Aragorn had always told her. In Middle Earth, especially back in the Third Age, she had been known for avoiding treatment as much as possible. Always Aragorn pestered her to take better care of herself.

Some things never change, she supposed. Outwardly she nodded and spoke. "I shall, my lord. I- I believe I am ready to visit Lorien."

With a small smile, Ulmo nodded to her. He stepped back two paces into the water, allowing it to envelope his bare feet and the bottom of his cape. He grew to full stature then once more, at least ten feet in height. He summoned a trident out of the sea with it, a conch shell of tremendous size. It was one of the Ulumúri, the horns of Ulmo. He put it to his lips and let out a single, deep, melodious note. Míril instantly felt like she recognized the music, for it reminded her of the times she would listen to falling water in Middle Earth. It was a deep music of the world.

Suddenly a great Eagle appeared in the sky. Its brown feathers and golden beak were soon recognizable. It was Isilmo once more. The enormous Eagle landed on a rock in the cove. Upon his back was Elrohir. The man looked in amazement upon Ulmo, Ossë, and Uinen. He said nothing, but his mouth was wide and his eyes wide.

"Where shall I bear them, lord?" Isilmo asked the Maia of waters.

"To Lorien." Ulmo told the Eagle immediately. "Take them to the Isle of Lórellin. Bring them to Estë."