1. A Spark of Almaren
‘Tinwen’ comes from ‘tinwë = spark’ and ’-wen = maiden’
‘Turon’ consists of ‘tur = power,lordship’ and ‘(r)on = lord’, thus it might translate as ‘Lord of Power’
‘Nár’ means, of course, fire
I suppose I should make the note that the ainur speak their own language among themselves (if they use words at all), but, because none of us knows this language, all “new” names appear in Quenyan forms at least until sindarin elves and other peoples get involved.
Oh, and one thing more. I decided to invent a nice new writer name for myself. So I started translating my name into sindar. ‘Heidi’ comes from German ‘Adelheid’, “noble woman”, that is, Arwen... And ‘Laakso’ is Finnish for valley, or ‘Dale’ or even ‘Rivendell’. Elves don’t have surnames, so I must be ‘Valley’s daughter’, that is, Imladviel. Strange.
”With the Valar came other spirits whose being also began before the World, of the same order as the Valar but of less degree. These are the Maiar, people of the Valar, and their servants and helpers.”
J.R.R. Tolkien, Valaquenta
Nár Tinwen : Part I : A Spark of Almaren
by Arwen Imladviel
Among the Maiar are counted Arien and all her sisters. They came to Eä like a rain of flames from the heavens, being spirits of fire. They became servants to Vana the Ever-young. They would walk with her and sing with her, they would obey her orders and help her in her work - all but the very least one, who is called Tinwen. For Tinwen had little power and few skills, save the art of playing and joking. She would run around and hide herself, she would take funny shapes to surprise her sisters, she would forget any work assigned to her and ask questions that had no answers. Nonetheless all loved Tinwen and sometimes Vana herself, feeling even younger than usual, would play with her. When their mingled laughter rang in the air of young Arda, those that heard it thought at first it was the echo of the voices of the Children of Ilúvatar.
In the beginning of days, when the Ainur dwelt upon the Isle of Almaren, Tinwen used to spend a lot of her time wandering around and watching the work of others. Her special interest turned towards Aulë and his servants, for their craft in those days was massive and awe-inspiring and they worked with the fires of the earth that were dear to her.
One day she was obserwing Cúrunir the Maia at the task of shaping a mountain. Cúrunir, however, did not like being obserwed, since his work was’t forming like he would have wanted - the colours of the stone wouldn’t mix right, and the harder he tried, the worse the result. In his frustration Cúrunir shouted at Tinwen, declaring there was no use in the world for the likes of her.
Suddenly another voice replied: ” If there be no use for Tinwen Híniel the Child-minded, then what use is there for the stars in the sky and the sound of the wind in treetops, for the clearness of spring-water and the roundness of seashore stones?” And after this spoke yet another voice, saying: ”Indeed she is a star in the sky, covered with many veils but bright behind them, Cal-Urúnya the blazing red flame”. The first voice belonged to none less than Eönwë the herald of Manwë who had heard the shouting from afar, and the other speaker was Turon, a servant of Aulë who had been working nearby. Thus Tinwen got two new names from two new friends. But between Cúrunir and Turon no friendship would ever be.
Now Eönwë was close to Manwë and had also wisdom of his own. He felt in his heart that the Spring of Arda would not last forever, so he prepared himself for war against Melkor. He became worried for little Híniel wandering often all alone in the wilderness. So he begged Aulë to make a powerful sword, but one small in size - for the raiment and shape of Tinwen was like that of a Child of Ilúvatar in the early youth, she was small and slim, with furry bright red hair (thence ‘Urúnya’)and star-blue eyes, and she usually clad herself in a loose green jacket and red breeches tied with a wide golden belt and walked barefoot. Aulë made the sword, which was sized like a knife and would get warm and glow red if enemies were near. Eönwë took it to Tinwen and instructed her in its use. She understood little about warcraft, but rejoiced at the beautiful artifact and named it Elmacil. Eönwë saw Tinwen’s eyes blazing with joy that moment and the sight was burned into his heart forever, and when he left he carried those eyes with him to Manwë’s residence.
Meanwhile, Turon also thought a lot about pretty little Cal-Urúnya, and her laughter rang in his ears as the sweetest music ever heard, and he would find himself laying his work aside and going to search he knew not what until he found Tinwen. And she would chatter with him and listen to him. Turon decided to make her something to play with. He sought far and found a stone that was black as night but yet seemed to hold brightess on the inside. He cut it in half and shaped it’s halves like two mirrors and polished them bright. The one he kept, the other he took to Tinwen.
He found Tinwen just as Eönwë was going away fom her, and saw her watching his departure with longing. Turon went to her hiding his jealousy as she showed him the sword Elmacil. ”A fine thing this is to have”, said he, ”and I see it be made by none other than Aulë my master”. ”Now, I also have brought you a gift, but I fear it will seem little more than a trinket to one receiving Aulë’s handicraft. For I made my gift myself, and put all my love and all my skill into it, but I know my power to be lesser than Aulë’s”.
These word put a sadness in Tinwen’s heart that she understood not, and she declared: ”Aulë may be greater than you, but he cares not much for me and did not come himself to bring me the sword. You, on the other hand, have come and I am honored by the amount of work you have done just for my sake. I will be more than pleased to receive a gift of yours.” So Turon gave him the first of the Morglini, the Black Eyes he had made. It was a round slice of stone that seemed dark at first glance, but at a closer look revealed all the colours of the rainbow, and changed hue when turned into an another position. Tinwen was glad and spent a long time watching the colours in the stone. Then she put it into one of her pockets (her jacket had an impressive number of them) and thanked Turon with a smile that was piercing in sincerity. Turon could not forget the sight even if he had wanted to.
Little Tinwen was now wearing a sword on her belt and carrying a jewel in her pocket. She had two dear friends and Vana still loved her. She knew she should have been very happy, but she also knew she was not. The forebodings of Eönwë had given her fears and nightmares, and the jealousy of Turon was cutting her in half like the stone that was cut in half.
One time when she slept Turon woke her up and asked her to come with him.
”Where to?” she asked.
”To freedom!” he replied.
”I am free.”
”Not for long. The Valar wish to possess us and enslave us. Your ‘helper’ Eönwë is involved in the plot. He has been promised he will have you as his prize. He is going to imprison you and eat your heart from your living breast and pluck your pretty eyes out and wear them as decorations”.
”I don’t believe that. Eönwë is not cruel. Vana loves me and would never have me harmed. And my sister Arien is very wise and loves the Valar. As do I.
”Are you calling me a liar ?”
”No. I’m saying that whoever ‘warned’ you has either lied to you or been lied to. Please don’t go. Let us go to the Valar and ask about this.”
”You must come. We have to leave before it is too late.”
”I will not come.”
”Farewell then, Tinwen Cal-Urúnya!”
”Come back soon, Turon! Farewell!”
But Turon would not come back, and Tinwen would not be comforted in her sorrow. None of the games her sisters wanted to play would please her, and she would often go to some hiding place and weep there. Eönwë found her on one such moment.
”Tinwen, come out! I love you, is that not enough? If Turon does not return, then he cares little for you.
You should start living again. Please, Híniel! Manwë has ordained a great feast on the Isle of Almaren. Would you not come and dance with me?”
”I will”, replied Tinwen, and went with him. In her heart she held the hope that Turon would hear of the feast, understand his mistake and return.
The feast was great indeed and merry, and joy came back to Tinwen’s eyes, and she laughed with her sisters and smiled at Vana. Clad in glorious green raiment Tinwen danced for Eönwë, and for Eönwë alone. Then it came to pass that Tulkas espoused Nessa, and on that moment Eönwë held Tinwen very close to him and she knew what he wished.
Tinwen was weary of dancing and slept content on Eönwë’s arms, until she was wakened by a sudden feeling of worry. She felt something strange in her pocket and took out the Morglin-stone and lo! It was ice-cold and covered with frost.
”Oh, Turon, my friend! How could I forget you in the celebration? What has happened to you? Are you in peril? I must come to you at once.” , Timwen thought. She was overcome with panic and without halting any longer she started running northward from Almaren.
Tinwen spent a long time wandering despaired in the forests. And the forests became dark and frightening, haunted by monsters, rotting, pierced with rank, poisonous fens. Tinwen was lost, when she suddenly entered a star-lit clearing. In the middle of it stood a great black shadow. The shadow spoke to her:
She startled, regognizing the voice at once. It was the same voice that had first given her the name, but now it had changed into a mere deep, joyless echo.
”Turon?”, she ventured.
”I have a new name now. Call me Thauron.” With these words the shadow revealed a face, the face of Turon, but illuminated by a sickly light. All love and caring had departed from the eyes. He was handsome, terrible and full of malevolent power; Sauron the Great, servant of Melkor.
Terror filled Tinwen, but she stood her ground unfaltering and drew out Elmacil, which was glowing red as blood. Dangerous was Tinwen Swordbearer on that hour, with Aulë’s craft in her hand, her hair a blazing storm of fire and her eyes anger-filled.
”I see my friend Turon is dead, killed by Thauron, servant of the Enemy. Begone, ere I cut you in half like you cut my heart in half!”
Thauron departed, shouting:
”I do not wish to harm you, for the sake of the memories we share. I wish you could follow me freely someday.”
Tinwen was still angry and still lost alone in the woods. In her despair she called out for Eönwë. And Eönwë came indeed very quickly, for after waking up without Tinwen he had hurried out in pursuit of her. He ran to her and embraced her, relieved. Tinwen told about Turon’s betrayal. Together they took the news to the Valar. Aulë, hearing of the treason of his servant, cursed Thauron and all his works. On that moment the Morglin- stone in Tinwen’s pocket lost all its colours and became as dark as the Void.
Then came the time of war and Melkor broke the lamps of Illuin and Ormal and the spring of Arda came to it’s end. The Valar departed to dwell in Aman and Tinwen went with them, hand in hand with Eönwë.
Long they dwelt contented like brother and sister under the light of the Trees, playing together and making pretty things to rejoice at. Eönwë served Manwë and abode on Taniquetil, while Tinwen built herself a funny little house on and under the western side of a hill.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.