-General-
That proclamation came like the lightning that precedes the storm, unleashing powerful gusts of wind that violently swayed all of Valinor. The peaceful winds of Manwë gave way to a mightier, more divine force, affirming its power.
For the Elves who lived in Valinor, it was a misinterpretation of Manwë's wrath. Many believed that fierce wind was the Vala's declaration of displeasure at the Noldor's rebellious behavior.
Oh, how wrong they were! Although they were the beautiful children of Eru, they lacked the perception granted to the Valar.
"Oh, great Eru," Manwë prayed, "what a blessing it is to feel your presence in this, your land."
The Valar knew. That divine wind, so powerful it reached even the darkest confines where Morgoth dwelled, was Eru's gaze. Somewhere, beyond the limits of the universe, that celestial being had blessed Aulë's creation with his sight. He had done it once before, by adopting the Ainur's creations as His children.
Now, His gaze poured a blessing upon that sword, which shone with the same majesty as the nebulae. After all, this sword, forged with the blessings of the Valar, had caught His attention.
It was a gift intended for one of His most beautiful creations, a soul so pure and imbued with His essence. He knew everything: past, present, and future. Today they called Him Eru, but tomorrow they might call Him YHWH, and therein lay His love for that soul who had crossed into this universe, one of His children from another reality.
Ilarion was not aware of the beautiful blessing that had been bestowed upon him. He felt it as a wild wind, comparable to Ulmo's seas, yet warm and comforting like Yavanna's spring breeze. It filled him with peace.
Then, before his eyes, a nebulous radiance appeared. Silmacil, blessed by Eru, announced its birth with grandeur and nobility. The dancing stars etched into its blade shone with majesty, inciting Ilarion to approach and take it.
Aulë, aware of the changes and blessings, knelt with humility, Silmacil resting in his calloused hands.
"Oh, great Eru, your blessing fills me with a profound love," he murmured with bowed head. "This sword shall bear your blessing and repel all evil that does not follow your will."
Having said this, he stood up. His imposing figure dwarfed Ilarion. His arms, darkened by soot, and his red hair like fire gave Aulë a savage majesty. Yet, despite his appearance, the warmth of his voice revealed his true nature.
"Ilarion," he said with affection and a sparkling emotion in his deep eyes, "today is the third time I have forged a gift for someone. The first was the ring for my wife; the second, the hammer for my first apprentice."
This memory shadowed Aulë's countenance.
"Now that apprentice serves Morgoth. I hope that, with this sword, you will put an end to his evil reign."
Extending his hand, he offered him the sword. Eager to be wielded by Ilarion, the blade glowed with the color of a cosmic purple.
"It will be so, Lord Aulë," Ilarion replied, taking the newly forged sword. The smooth hilt felt comfortable, and its weight was as light as a feather, making it the ideal weapon. With a slight swing, Ilarion felt as if the sword had fused with him, becoming an extension of his own body.
"What beauty."
-Formenos-
Fëanor's sons were gathering, oblivious to the gifts their youngest brother was receiving from the Valar. Now that they scorned the Valar, they could not see their brother's actions in a favorable light.
"Ilarion is a friend of the Valar; therefore, he is our enemy," said Amrod, urging his brothers to feel animosity toward the youngest. For a long time, they had looked upon Ilarion with jealousy, for he was the recipient of an unconditional love that wounded their pride.
"Ilarion is not our enemy, he is our family," Maedhros, the eldest of the eight brothers, reprimanded him with an authoritative voice. "He will follow us, even though Manwë's messenger begged him to stay."
Maglor nodded, agreeing with Maedhros's words. His voice, so unique and celebrated among the Teleri, resonated as he defended his younger brother.
"Ilarion is our little brother. It is our duty to love and protect him, not to hate or despise him."
"Do not utter blasphemy or try to sow discord among us, Amrod," added Celegorm, whose strong character was evident as he severely reprimanded his brother.
"Let's not waste time on senseless arguments. Ilarion must have already arrived at Tirion with our father. Let us march and join them," Maedhros said, urging his brothers to hurry and gather everything needed.
-Tirion-
"None of the Valar can defeat him, neither now nor ever within the confines of Eä. Not even if Eru gave you three times your strength. As you came freely, freely you shall go, but you shall receive no help from the Valar."
The mere memory of those words, spoken by Manwë's messenger, made Nerdanel's noble and gentle heart tremble. The thought that her now distant husband scorned the Valar and urged the Noldor to abandon Valinor filled her with a deep fear.
It had been a long time since the warm, loving man she once fell for had vanished; his tenderness faded after the creation of the Silmarils. Fëanor lied to his youngest son, telling him he was the most precious jewel of all, filling his head with the promise that those beautiful gems would belong to him.
But she knew the truth. Her beloved Fëanor simply wanted his son to follow him. Only they and the Valar knew that Ilarion had been born under the stars and blessed by Eru.
"The most beautiful Elf, surpassing even the Valar," as they said, and they were not wrong. Her little son was the most beautiful creation. His purity made him liked and loved by both the Valar and the Elves.
Now her husband sought to lead her pure and innocent son into war against Morgoth. She tried to stop him, arguing that Ilarion was too young to leave, but Fëanor remained adamant. He would not leave Ilarion behind.
And so, in her despair, she planned to dissuade her son from following his father. However, a messenger from Mandos came to her with news.
"He who was born under the star of Eru cannot be cursed or restrained by any Vala, Man, or Maia. If you wish for your family to be returned to you, the pure child must depart. He will leave as a child and return as a man. Forgiveness shall be granted through his mercy. The seven stars destined to wane will shine bright with life again thanks to the light of the eighth."
She knew it. When Mandos spoke, it was only what Manwë permitted, and it was a truth that would be fulfilled. The message had deep meaning. She loved Fëanor, but above all, she loved her sons.
If letting her little Ilarion go meant that all of them would return alive, then, reluctantly, she would accept the departure of her little star.
"Oh, my dear star, shine and guide your brothers. Bring them back to the embrace of this desperate mother."