Son of Fëanor

That proclamation came like the lightning that accompanies the storm, powerful gusts of air wildly swaying all of Valinor. The tranquil winds of Manwë gave way to something more powerful, something more divine, asserting its might.

For the Elves dwelling in Valinor, it was a misinterpretation of Manwë's anger. Many believed that this fierce wind was Manwë declaring his displeasure at the rebellious behavior of the Noldor.

Oh, how wrong they were! They might be the beautiful children of Eru, but they lacked the senses bestowed upon the Valar.

"Oh, great Eru," Manwë said in a prayer, "What a blessing it is to have your presence in this land of yours."

The Valar knew it. That divine wind, so powerful it even reached the darkest confines where Morgoth dwelled, was Eru's gaze. Somewhere beyond the boundaries of the universe, that celestial being had blessed Aulë's creation with His sight. He had done so once before, adopting the Ainur's creation as His children.

Now His gaze brought a blessing upon that sword, which shone with the same majesty as the nebulas. After all, this sword, born under the yoke of the Valar's blessings, had captured His attention.

A gift to be granted to one of His most beautiful creations, one so pure and imbued with His essence. He knew everything: past, present, and future. Today, they would call Him Eru, but tomorrow they might call Him YHWH, and therein lay His love for that soul that had crossed into this universe, one of His children from another reality.

Ilarion was unaware of the beautiful blessing bestowed upon him. He felt it, a wild wind like Ulmo's seas, yet warm and comforting like Yavanna's spring breeze. It brought him peace.

Then, before his eyes, a nebulous radiance appeared. Silmacil, blessed by Eru, announced its birth with grandeur and nobility. The dancing stars etched in its blade shone with majesty, compelling Ilarion to approach and take it.

Aulë, aware of the changes and blessings, knelt humbly with Silmacil resting in his calloused hands. "Oh, great Eru, your blessing fills me with profound love," he murmured, head bowed. "This sword shall carry your blessing and drive back all evil that does not follow your will."

With that, he rose. His towering figure dwarfed Ilarion. His arms, darkened by soot, and his fiery red hair gave Aulë a wild majesty. Yet despite his appearance, the warmth of his voice revealed his true nature.

"Ilarion," he said with affection and sparkling emotion in his deep eyes, "today marks 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." At this memory, Aulë's mood dimmed.

"Now that apprentice serves under Morgoth. I hope, with this sword, you will bring an end to his reign of evil."

Extending his hand, he offered the sword. Eager to be wielded by Ilarion, it gleamed with the color of a cosmic purple.

"So it shall be, Lord Aulë," Ilarion said, taking the newly forged sword. The smooth grip felt comfortable, its weight as light as a feather, making it the ideal weapon. With a slight motion, Ilarion felt as though the sword had fused with him, becoming an extension of his body.

"What beauty."

---

In Formenor

The sons of Fëanor were regrouping, oblivious to the gifts their younger brother was receiving from the Valar. Now that they despised the Valar, they could not see their younger 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 harbor ill will toward their youngest sibling. For a long time, they had looked at Ilarion with jealousy, as he was the recipient of unconditional love that stung their pride.

"Ilarion is not our enemy; he is our family," Maedhros, the eldest of the eight brothers, reprimanded Amrod with a commanding voice. "He will follow us, even though Manwë's messenger begged him to stay."

At Maedhros' words, Maglor concurred. His voice, so unique and celebrated among the Teleri, resonated as he defended their younger brother. "Ilarion is our little brother. It is our duty to love and protect him, not to hate or despise him."

"Do not blaspheme or try to sow discord among us, Amrod," Celegorm added, his strong character evident as he sternly chastised his brother.

"Let us not waste time on pointless arguments. Ilarion must have already arrived in Tirion with our father. Let us march and join them," said Maedhros, urging his brothers to hurry and gather everything they needed.

Tirion

"None of the Valar can you defeat, neither now nor ever within the bounds of Eä. Not even if Eru gave you three times your strength. As you came freely, freely shall you depart, but you will receive no aid 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 despised the Valar and was urging the Noldor to abandon Valinor filled her with deep fear.

It had been some time since the warm and loving man she once fell in love with had disappeared, his tenderness vanishing after the creation of the Silmarils. Fëanor lied to their youngest son, telling him that 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 merely wanted their 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 boy was the most beautiful creation. His purity made him cherished and loved by both the Valar and the Elven people.

Now her husband sought to take their pure and innocent son to war against Morgoth. She tried to stop him, arguing that Ilarion was too young to go, but Fëanor remained adamant. He would not leave Ilarion behind.

And so, in their desperation, she planned to dissuade her son from following his father. However, a messenger of Mandos came to her with news.

"He who was born under Eru's star cannot be cursed or restrained by any Valar, man, or Maia. If you wish to have your family returned, the pure child must depart. He will leave as a child and return as a man. Forgiveness will be granted through his mercy. The seven stars destined to fade will reverberate with life through the light of the eighth."

She knew it. Once Mandos spoke, it was only what Manwë permitted, and it was a truth that would come to pass. The message carried a profound meaning. She loved Fëanor, but above all, she loved her children.

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."

***

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