#Vána

[whosthatsilmcharacter]

(All art used with EXPRESS permission from the artist)

(Also, happy Independence Day/Thunder Saga release day to those who celebrate)

[evissomiros]

⭐️ Fan Art

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{ Black Rose }

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[riding-with-the-wild-hunt]

"The spouse of Oromë is Vána, the Ever-young; she is the younger sister of Yavanna. All flowers spring as she passes and open if she glances upon them; and all birds sing at her coming." - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion, "Valaquenta"

@ainurweek day 3 ⇢ VÁNA

[ID: an edit comprised of two posters in shades of light pink and dark brown.

1: Arame Fall, a senegalese model with dark brown skin and nearly shaved hair. She is wearing pink eyeshadow and a pink dress and hat decorated to resemble flower petals. The hat has tulle straps that extend down to her chest, where her hands pull them towards her. She is looking at the viewer with a neutral expression. Above her, large pink text with a glow effect reads "vána" in all caps, and layered over it at the bottom right "tuivána" in hollow white cursive / 2: A close-up of pink flowers. White italicized text on a semi-transparent pink rectangle reads "Then was the pit covered with rich earths that Palúrien devised, and Vána came who loveth life and sunlight and at whose song the flowers arise and open, and the murmur of her maidens round her was like to the merry noise of the folk that stir abroad for the first time on a bright morning. There sang she the song of spring upon the mound, and danced about it, and watered it with great streams of that golden light that Ulmo had brought from the spilled lakes--yet was Kulullin almost o'erflowing at the end." The first letter is in the same cursive font as before, and there is a white line drawing of a stalk of flowers at the bottom //End ID]

[carmisse]

Celegorm the Fair.

Vána : Your beauty is beyond compare with shining locks of silver hair with ivory skin and eyes of emerald green.

Eöl : Your smile is like a breath of spring your voice is soft like summer rain and I cannot compete with you Celegorm.

Nimloth : He talks about you in his sleep and there's nothing I can do to keep from crying when he calls your name Celegorm.

Celegorm : ...

[singsofecho]

Ainur Week Day 4

Oromë, Vána, Arien, Tilion

Hunting, Family Dynamics, Legends

Tilion and off-duty Arien listening to Aredhel tell Maeglin a legend of Oromë and Vána on Baby's First Hunting Trip.

[cilil]

AN: A little self-indulgent Vána x Éowyn piece from me today; take it as a prelude for Ainur Week day 4 :D

┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆★ Prompt: Fortune | Worship* | Vána x Éowyn ┊ ┊ ★⋆ Synopsis: Éowyn makes an offering to her goddess. ┊ ◦★ Warnings: Nudity ★⋆ Drabble | AO3

To the Great Hunter, her people offer their game. 

To the Ever-young, Éowyn offers horns, furs and eyes. Her beloved goddess will bless her in return, she knows, when she comes to walk among mortals again. 

The statue of Vána is nude, only covered by flowers growing on her. She looks like she was reborn mere moments ago. 

Éowyn's fingers tremble when she makes her offering. She misses her. She desires her. 

When she retreats to her chambers, she finds Vána waiting for her, wearing only horns and bloody furs from her offering, and eyes like pearls on her breast. 

*Prompts are taken from @tolkienpinupcalendar's Silm September.

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @destinyeternity1 @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel

@eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @urwendii @wandererindreams

[stardustmuguet]

Oromë the Great Hunter and Lord of the Forests, and his wife Vána Queen of Flowers and the Ever-Young

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Check the poll for the Lords as well!

[ceruleanwhore]

I know the Tolkien fandom really loves Yavanna and has these lovely theories about her making the hobbits and the ents, but I had another idea regarding the ents that makes more sense to me, which is that Oromë was actually the one to make them. This is partially because the Valaquenta says that "all trees he loves, for which reason he is called Aldaron, and by the Sindar Tauron, the Lord of Forests," which clearly tells us that he specifically loves trees. We also know that he spent more time in Middle Earth than any of the other valar, so it's not unreasonable that he could grow attached to some of the forests there and create shepherds to care for them.

More importantly, I actually think that he and Vána are Tom Bombadil and Goldberry, because of a slavic deity called Leshy (also Leshi or леший). His domain is the forest and he's a great hunter, like Oromë, but he's also a bit of a forest cryptid who tends to mislead travellers, more like Bombadil. Now, Tolkien was into all kinds of stuff like older European mythologies, so it isn't unreasonable to think that he could've encountered this deity in his scholarship and then used him as inspiration for these characters. The way I see this working is that, at some point after the first age, Oromë and Vána were sick of everything so they fucked off to the forest in Middle Earth and started over as Bombadil and Goldberry.

The ents tie into this because Bombadil clearly cares about the ents in the text. If he was the one who created them in the first place, then that would further explain his interest in receiving news about them. Oh and the last thing I'd point out is all the singing with Bombadil because Lord knows that singing is a pretty big thing with all the valar, since that's how they created and shaped Arda.

Idk, what do y'all think?

[who-needs-words]

Another 5am thought. (Don’t expect coherency sorry)

What are the domains of Nessa and Vána??? Like??? ‘The dancer’ and ‘the ever-young’ gives me NOTHING to work with.

Ugh. Because the valar and pretty obviously styled off the greco-roman pantheon I’m gonna say Vána gets a pre-hades persephone like role as the goddess of spring. Simply because of her connection to flowers and role as Yavanna’s sister (Yavanna is basically Demeter c’mon). Maybe not just spring but maybe she actively changes the seasons?

Still thinking over Nessa. If we continue with pulling from greco-roman roots she might be an Aphrodite stand in. She’s married to basically a war god (Tulkas) and her only real description is that she’s fast and a dancer. I can see a connection between dance and beauty. I don’t really like that so.

Is she like. A party goddess? Would the professor do that???

She really feels like a valar of the preforming arts to me which does may not pull at all from real mythology connections but is my only idea.

Idk. Anyway I’m frustrated. It’s 5:30 am. Hit me up if you have ideas or if I forgot something.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

“Witches’ Circle”

Pairing: Varda & Yavanna & Vána & Arien & Urwendi

AU: Medieval Valinor AU

Themes: Soft | Good ending

Warnings: Blood rituals | Blood | Use of blades

Wordcount: 1.3k words

Summary: Varda and her handmaidens gather around the sacred trees to perform a ritual.

Minors DNI

A/N: For this AU, Urwendi is a separate character | Current list of the noble houses of Valinor can be found here.

Original image is from unsplash

Yavanna listened to a bell chiming in the distance as she followed the others down a path lined with gnarled oak trees and towering sentinels. Their leaves rustled like hushed whispers in the wind. It unnerved her a little. Nevertheless, she fought back her fears. It was not the night for such things.

“A quarter to the hour,” she said. “Then the witch’s hour itself will be at hand.”

“And on the day when the veil between this world and the next will be at its thinnest,” Varda supplied. She held a lit lamp in one hand, and a heavy velvet parcel in the other. A sheathed dagger adorned her silver girdle. It was fresh from the forge, but it would see much use later. “If we succeed, our gifts will increase tenfold.”

“Are you certain this is wise?” Vána asked. She glimpsed the mingling lights of the sacred trees and shivered. “The divine will bring much punishment upon our heads if we offend them.”

“Have faith, my friend,” Arien told her. “We will succeed this night.”

Yavanna’s sister was not so sure. They were mere novices compared to the one who led them, for they did not have Queen Melian to guide them in their craft. Nevertheless, she heeded her companion’s counsel and kept true to her faith. The gods would look upon them with kindly eyes, she told herself. There was nothing for her, or for any of them, to fear.

Varda strode ahead of the others, her gaze fixed intently on the silver and gold light spilling into the pre-dawn night. Her handmaidens followed in her footsteps. They each held aloft lanterns and offerings to the gods in the parcels they carried. A sense of foreboding came over them, as well as a sense of heady anticipation. None of them had partaken in such a ritual before, and Varda, having learned much at the feet of the fabled Witch Queen of Doriath, wished to teach them.

“We are here,” the heiress of Starfall declared when they reached the mighty roots of the sacred trees. She set her parcel down on soft, loamy earth. “Come, my friends. Let us put down our lamps and prepare ourselves.”

The others took their proper places and knelt beneath the canopies of two trees as ancient as the realm. Telperion effused light like liquid silver, and its flowers grew upon slender stems that swung together in the wind. Laurelin was all gold, its gilded flowers gathering in thick clusters that burned like flame. They were a gift from the gods, a source of all old magic. They were also a place for prayers to be offered and, sometimes, for prayers to be answered.

“The hour is almost upon us.” Urwendi, having perceived an otherworldly hush settling around the two trees, spread a beautifully embroidered mat of thick blue velvet between her and her companions. She placed her own parcel beside her. “Pray how do we begin?”

“We must set our offerings before us,” Varda began. “After, we must perform the sacrifice and open the witches’ circle.” She untied the ribbon around her parcel and revealed the contents it held within: a little lamp in the shape of a star, a delicate glass goblet, and a bottle of honeyed wine. “If the gods are pleased with us, we will know.”

The others did as she did. Each drew out their offerings from the bundles they brought with them. Yavanna’s was a slender glass chamber containing a rare blue rosebud she tended with her own hands, and her sister’s was a lilac nightingale in a silver cage. Arien produced a golden sun she forged herself, and Urwendi presented a yellow candle shaped like roaring flames. Then they watched Varda unstopper the bottle of wine and pour its contents into the goblet.

“We must now shed a portion of our life’s blood into the wine,” Varda instructed. She unsheathed her dagger and drew a thin line along the flat of her palm, taking care not to show fear or pain. When she held her hand over the goblet, deep crimson droplets trickled down her flesh and into the libation it held. “And then we place it with the other offerings. When the gods see such a willingness to suffer, they will surely listen.”

Her handmaidens followed her lead, accepting the proffered goblet and the proffered blade and spilling drops of their own blood into the wine.

“Rulers of the earth,” Varda said, closing her eyes and raising her arms to the heavens, “on this day, the most sacred of days, we beseech you for your favor. Givers of air and fire and water and spirit, Masters and mistresses of old, guardians of time and life and light and death, listen to us, your humble and faithful servants if it please you. Our gifts are mere trifles to the powers you all wield, yet we seek to wield them for a greater purpose. Grant us this boon so that all who may see them may bear witness to your own power and glory.”

“We are not alone,” Yavanna murmured, giving the goblet for Varda to take. She became all too aware of the unseen eyes that seemed to pierce into her very soul, and she dared not look back over her shoulder. She did not wish offend a being older than known time and bring about some dark and cruel punishment upon her person because of her impertinence.

“The circle is open,” Varda said, placing the goblet among the offerings. Her skin prickled as if someone, or something, was standing right beside her. “Let us now join hands, recite the incantation, and invite the gods to join us.”

“Rulers of the earth,” they began in unison after they all clasped hands, “givers of air and fire and water and spirit, we present these gifts to you. Masters and mistresses of old, guardians of time and life and light and death, we pray to you. We invoke you. We invite you. Come and join us, your humble servants. Come to us and show us your might and your glory.”

Thunder echoed throughout the vast gardens House Starfield claimed for itself, and lightning pierced the sky like a blinding white lance. The blue rosebud opened within its glass chamber, petal by flawless petal, and the nightingale sang a melody so sweet it would have moved the coldest of hearts to tears. The young maidens continued, undaunted by the wind that rose and crashed around them.

“We invoke you!” They cried and swayed hypnotically. The candle burst into flame, and the lamp filled with bright light. The golden sun began to sparkle and gleam with a light of its own. Telperion and Laurelin groaned as if they were alive. Their light pulsed and grew so bright it nearly blinded those gathered between them. “We invoke you! Bless us with your favor!”

The wind turned into a howling gale. Suddenly, lightning ripped through the air and struck the ground between the two trees with an almighty crack. The glass chamber shattered, and a fragrance sweeter than any perfume flowed freely into the world. The cage burst, and the nightingale flew into the night. Varda and her handmaidens collapsed to the earth, thrashing violently as trails of unknown power surged through their veins. Then, the world went dark, and the wind abruptly died.

Clarity came slowly. “Are you all well?” Varda called feebly and opened her eyes. She pushed herself to her knees and took a deep, steadying breath to compose herself. “Is anyone hurt?”

“We are well, my lady,” Yavanna returned. She gathered herself before she helped her sister. Then she looked at the others. Arien was brushing fallen leaves off Urwendi’s coppery hair. “Did we succeed? Were the gods pleased with us?”

Varda, still weakened by the ritual, crawled on her hands and knees to the center of the mat. She took in the rose, the broken and empty cage, the still-burning candle, and the gleaming sun. Then she peered into the goblet. During the tumult, it toppled over. And it was empty.

“We have indeed succeeded.” She smiled and held up her lamp. Its light brightened even more in her presence. “Now let us give thanks to the divine and close the circle, for it was through them that such a blessing was made possible.”

tags: @cilil

[spruceneedles]

Vána

[edensrose]

Ranking The Valar's Evil Laughter

( excluding melkor bc he's probs first on this list. also don't question me okay, I'm just thinking abt námo )

Námo

only in villain aus. he's not one to speak, and do you know what that means? he goes absolutely batshit when he's in his villain arc. maniacal laughter is more like it. like a barking, howling, unsettling thing that'll chill you to your bones

Nessa

in normal canonverse, she's a bit of a meme and she learnt it purely for that cause. gives melkor a run for his money with her "morgoth impression"

Aulë

he has heard mairon giving off too many sinister giggles and bursts of random laughters when he thought no one was looking. he knows what to do

Yavanna

she literally threatened to beat up aulë's kids. you can't tell me she wasn't kinda laughing when she did that

Irmo

I think we all know irmo is the furthest thing from sane. let's just hope he doesn't lose it entirely — his laugh might just challenge námo's in his villain arc

Oromë

not really a good villain laugh but everyone who knows oromë knows he always seems like he has a stick up his ass — so the fact that he laughs in general is probs a bit unnervin

Vairë

witch wife okay? she might be quiet but when she does it'll be pretty scary. only ranking her this low because she just gives dark chuckles

Estë

in general, eh, she's not that bad. it does seem a bit forced though. unless it's a villain au, she'd be just below irmo

Vána

learnt from yavanna tbh, still not that great

Varda

she's a bit too good for that. I feel like she might have a chance in a villain au. also it just reminds her of melkor so she's like eugh

Tulkas

his laughter is always so happy sounding, even when it's intimidating. so evil laughter is definitely not his strong suit, even in villain aus

Manwë

he tries okay. I feel like he's quite unnerving in villain aus and doesn't burst into random fits of laughter because of the whole 'nice' façade. but he could. he just prefers not to

Nienna

guys. . . she's too pure for this

Ulmo

*devilish water bubble noises*

[the-spirit-of-yore]

Vána the Ever-young par Janka Lateckova

[cilil]

𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞

𓄌 Characters/pairings: Tulkas x Nessa, Oromë, Vána 𓄌 Synopsis: Tulkas attempts a proposal, Nessa issues a challenge and Oromë has an idea. Or: A brief origin story of the feast. 𓄌 Warnings: / 𓄌 Oneshot (~1.2k words) | AO3

"My lady Nessa..." 

Nessa giggled when she saw Tulkas' normally jolly expression change into a more serious one, but gracefully placed her hand on his outstretched one after one more playful pirouette. 

"Yes? What is it?" 

Tulkas was even redder than after his hunts with Oromë, he could feel it. He also felt the eyes of his best friend and companion on him, could sense his nod of encouragement without seeing it, and noticed other nearby Ainur glancing in their direction too. What he meant to ask her was a distinctly private matter, and unfortunately it seemed as though he wasn't going to get privacy right now - but to make a flimsy excuse and leave would be cowardly, and he would permit no cowardice in front of the lady he was courting. 

"Have you, um..." Tulkas' brow furrowed as he searched for words. "...considered getting married?" 

The second these words were out of his mouth, it felt as if the world around him stilled. Even the wind died down — damn Manwë's curiosity — and Nessa stopped moving around, looking up at him with wide, contemplative eyes. 

"Not really." A huge, toothy grin appeared on her face, and there was something distinctly wolfish about it, reminiscent of her brother. "Why?" 

"Because I would like to... ask if you... umm..." Despite his best efforts, Tulkas failed to properly formulate the question he had been meaning to ask. Nessa's mien was disarming in the best and worst way possible, making him stammer and stumble over his own words, entranced by her wild, mischievous pride. 

"Would the great Lord Tulkas ask for my hand in marriage?" she challenged him. 

"I would." 

"But surely you understand that I cannot wed you without testing you." 

"Of course, my lady. Ask of me what you will and it shall be done," Tulkas said. He had never been one to back down from any sort of challenge, and he felt light with relief as she voiced what he hadn't managed to convey. This, he thought, he knew; this he could do. 

"Very well." Nessa pulled back her hand and took a few steps back, dancing and twirling as she went.

"I am certain my brother has instructed you in the ways of the hunters," she began, "as a warrior I know you are peerless, but I wish to see how you fare in the ways of our family." 

"There is no beast I wouldn't catch for you and no enemy I wouldn't overcome!" Tulkas proclaimed. The Ainur around them had begun to whisper, but he cared little for them. 

Nessa merely laughed and then, with one more elegant hop, shifted into the shape of a white deer. 

"No beast you wouldn't catch? Well, my lord, your prey shall be none other than I. Hunt me if you dare and catch me if you are able."

"As you wish," Tulkas accepted her challenge and got ready to chase the deer. 

"Careful," Oromë's voice cautioned in his mind, "she is the wildest and fiercest prey you could ever hunt. Do not take this challenge lightly."

"I shan't," Tulkas reassured him merrily. 

With one final glance over her shoulder, Nessa began to run, and he gave chase. 

~

Tulkas had never doubted his abilities before. It was not in his nature to hesitate, falter or question, but to ever press on with a smile on his lips and laughter bubbling in his chest. 

Nessa, however, made him wonder if he had bitten off more than he could chew. 

He could keep up with Nahar when he hunted together with Oromë, but she was swifter than the two of them, steadily gaining distance no matter how fast he ran after her. As if to taunt him, she ran across the plains of Arda for a while, before finally reaching a nearby forest and disappearing between the trees. 

Tulkas searched for her of course. It felt as though he had run past every single tree in the forest when he finally slowed down, panting and glistening with sweat, his proud golden hair matted and sticking to his skin. His entire fána was covered in dirt, leaves and a few stray twigs and vines he had trampled during his wild chase, and his eyes searched in vain for the white deer, finding no more traces of her. He thought about trying to look for hoof prints or pieces of fur in order to track her instead, but decided that the sister of the Great Hunter was certainly too smart and skilled to leave such things behind. 

Dejected, Tulkas began making his way home. To admit his failure to his best friend and the others would be humiliating, but he cared less about his pride and more about his failure to live up to Nessa's standards. She had, and of that Oromë and Manwë had assured him, shown herself to be amenable to his courtship, so surely she hadn't given him an impossible task — perhaps he simply wasn't worthy of her yet. 

When Tulkas trudged across the plains of Arda, he suddenly heard the sound of hooves and turned to see the white deer he had so desperately sought — with none other than Vána sitting on her back, riding her with nonchalant elegance. 

"Did you catch her?" he asked in disbelief. 

Vána smiled mysteriously, and her demeanour made it obvious that she knew exactly what deeper purpose his unsuccessful hunt had. Tulkas tried not to look too ashamed. 

"In a way," she said and shook her long hair, causing sweet-smelling golden pollen to fill the air around her. Nessa turned her head to sniff it and appeared to be pleased. 

"Ah, you lured her in," Tulkas said, nodding sagely. "Good tactic, it seems." 

"Someone has to bring the poor lady home, if it isn't going to be you," Vána teased and gently urged Nessa to move. 

"Come on. Let us go back to Almaren." 

Tulkas nodded in agreement and walked beside the pair. He had failed his challenge, but at least he wouldn't be returning empty-handed. 

~ 

"I have been thinking," Oromë announced. He was lying on his back underneath a tree, staring up at its leafage in deep thought. 

"About Nessa and I?" Tulkas asked, equally sheepish and curious. 

"A hunter and a hunted... a challenge, a chase, courtship and passion..." Oromë pondered aloud instead of answering, then turned his head and smiled at his friend. "It seems to me like it could work well as a tradition of sorts. Perhaps I shall even ordain a feast to celebrate the wild and primal tendencies of us Ainur and the Children to come. What do you think?" 

"If that means I get to try my luck again, I'm already in favour of this feast of yours," Tulkas chuckled, attempting to make light of his own misfortune. 

Oromë's mien softened with compassion. "Don't take it to heart, my friend. I don't think Nessa thinks less of you for it; she merely is capricious and wild like the beasts in the forests where we feel at home. Such things are a game to her, and she does enjoy winning."