11. Praises Flow As Water
Ulmo, not used to being in Valinor and greatly missing the sound of the sea, looked towards his friend. Manwë had to laugh – never would the Lord of Waters come to his table without some distinctive garment. This time he wore a dark helm, foam-crested, and his raiment of mail shimmered from silver down to shadows of green.
Aulë, in deference to the occasion, had shaken the dust of the earth from his own robes, laid his axe and pick aside and stood holding Yavanna's hand in his. Robed in green herself, she smiled and the air was filled with the sweet smell of flowers and wild berries.
Námo and Vairë had entered the room late, bowed to their Lord, and stood by the places allotted to them. Varda shook her head. As always, Vairë had woven their attire and, as always, the weave was perfect and stunning. Nienna stood close by, holding her arms about her, stifling the moan of supplication that was ever on her lips.
Irmo and Estë waited in silence, hearts turned inwards towards Irmo's dreams and visions, which wrapped around them in the deep rest offered by Estë. A gentle clearing of his throat caused the two to turn towards Manwë. They bowed and raised their own cups.
Tulkas, proud, brave, golden-haired Tulkas and Nessa, wind-whipped themselves from their sudden entrance, stood with goblets raised.
Oromë, his hound ever at his side, laid his great horn on the table in front of him, and extended his hand. Vána, birds perched on her shoulders, stood and took it. Her smile caused his somber face to light in joy.
Some called them fickle, these Valar of Ilúvatar, but today, they stood as one. Today they would not be called the fourteen fickle Valar.
Today they would be called constant.
"To Eru! May He be praised now and forever!"
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