#blue istari

[annatars-nine-rings]

Art Commissions of my Tolkien OC's Manó and Aratacáno, Maiar of Námo and the Blue Istari done for me by the wonderful: @liusia-piu

[blue-istari-stars-of-the-south]

Commission of my Tolkien OC Manó, Maia of Mandos and one of the Blue Istari done for me by:

Inaillus - General Artist | DeviantArt

Check out Inaillus's art on DeviantArt. Browse the user profile and get inspired.

[danlikes2art]

Istari and Elrond as Nazgul

[blue-istari-stars-of-the-south]

Manó in Sud Siccana WIP

WIP in which my Tolkien OC Manó (Maia of Mandos and one of the Blue Istari) has arrived in the city of Sud Siccana and meets the son of Sauron and god emperor Vanimórë (owned by @spiced-wine-fic who graciously has given me permission to write about their wonderful OC ❤️). This is still in WIP form so I’m working at writing this still so it will probably be changed a little bit before it is finished.

As the Servant of Námo was marched down the bright, torchlit corridor, hands roughly forced down to his sides by the armed soldiers, Manó did not even attempt to struggle. It was evident that these Men were well-trained, and the Maia knew that even if he did try to get away, he would easily be tackled. And he could not risk showing his true powers in front of these Men. Especially when he had no idea who it was that acted as lord over them.

It would give away far too much too early. Too risky.

And he did have plans.

And where in the name of the Lord Námo are you, Aratacáno? Why have you left me to this imprisonment?

Though he searched and searched for his fellow Namodur, Manó could not locate him in the sea of consciousness that was the citizenry.

If the rumors from the caravanserai were to be believed, this city called Sud Siccana was home to the god emperor, and from here, he did rule the South with an army that rivaled any in Middle Earth.

The palace was sumptuously decorated, showing off the obvious wealth that this lord held. Secretly, Manó was in awe at it, but he kept that impression to himself. Saying nothing, the Maia could only hope that the disguise of an older man that he enshrouded himself in would be enough to keep him safe from this…this…

As they went, the group passed many a magnificent space; the Maia caught a quick glimpse of a large bathing pool with aquamarine water with white curtains hanging for privacy where one might repose in the steam. Even to Manó it was quite tempting. To have the chance to wash off the dust of the road. Another held a dining room, brilliantly colored pillows scattered around on the floor for sitting and discussing crucial matters.

An elaborately carved door was thrown open, and Manó was quickly hustled through.

Gathering as much dignity as he could muster, the Maia held his head high.

“Wait here.” One of the guards told him, and Manó was left on his own to take in his new surroundings. Fixing his dark robes, he stared around with interest. He had expected to be brought to some throne room and forced to grovel and beg for his very existence. But no, that was not the case.

This was a room with a massive table at the center, shelves of books lining the walls. Scrolls sat unopened, along with other scraps of parchment. A library of sorts, Manó told himself. When he felt it safe to move, the Namodur reached out, carefully examining one of these documents.

A letter from some important king of a Southron land that Manó did not know of. And he did feel his curiosity rise.

With a cautious finger, he broke the seal.

Inside was written a meticulously detailed manuscript that had to do with a battle off to the east, and begging for troops to come to their aid.

Lord Vanimórë.

Was this the name of the lord of these peoples?

Manó spoke the name silently to himself, felt a chill run up his spine at it, skin crawling.

“And what do you think you are doing, hm?”

The Maia jumped at the sudden voice, turning away from the table, his robes swirling about him. His green eyes widened then, as he beheld the one who had addressed him.

A tall man (no, an Elf more likely) stood in the doorway, watching him with keen violet eyes. Manó had never seen such a gaze in all of his long years, one so piercing and sharp, and it seemed to him like falling into pools of purple light. Long dark hair fell around his shoulders and down to his waist, tied back away from the elegant elegant Noldorin features. Clothed in all black with swords strapped across his back, the Elf crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe, the posture hinting at seduction. A little smile played across the Elf’s face.

Overwhelmed by the presence, as if this Elf was staring straight into his ëala and seeing all that was hidden there, Manó felt the breath catch in his throat.

Steadying himself and at once feeling small before the purple gaze, the Maia bowed, placing a hand to his chest in apology.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to pry.” Manó finally managed to say. “I was merely curious.”

The Maia knew that he had to play his cards right with this one. A game of words and intrigue that he was not at all skilled at. Or else, he might find a far worse fate than the short imprisonment back in Tûl Harar. Manó was but a humble servant of the Lord of Mandos. What did he know of plotting and scheming?

How dare he make a Maia, an Ainu of Námo, feel so insignificant!

Anger flared then in Manó’s chest, but was quickly stamped out when the Elf locked eyes, staring him down.

Vanimórë chuckled then, closing the distance between them in a few long graceful strides, swept across the room like a dangerously prideful lion inspecting his realm.

And this indeed was his realm. No one would dare touch this king without the loss of their head and maybe a few other appendages.

Without hesitation, Lord Vanimórë spoke, the voice melodic and commanding all at once:

“I saw you and the other ride through the gates. Have the Valar sent one of their lackeys to come and spy on me? Maybe they’ve come to their senses.”

Head in a storm of thoughts, Manó felt a blush creep over his cheeks as Vanimórë came closer.

A scent of sandlewood.

The Maia a step backward, bumping against the table, sent a few of the scrolls toppling to the floor. Cornered and with nowhere to run, Manó stared straight into the eyes that watched him.

Eru’s name, did this demon have eyes everywhere?

“You…You must have seen wrong, good lord.” Manó replied, scrambling desperately for a convincing lie. “I came here alone.”

The calm smile remained, a dark eyebrow arched, as if completely unafraid and sure of himself in the face of the Namodur. The sight of it irked the Maia, but he kept his words to himself. It wouldn’t do to provoke him.

”Wrong?” Vanimórë said. “I don’t believe so. Especially when you made your arrival so obvious.”

“Sauron’s dark spawn.” Máno muttered, standing his ground.”The Valar speak of you, and not with kindness.”

The lord smirked then, fearsome as any warrior:

”Oh, I am sure that they do. Especially your Master. Isn’t that right?”

[blue-istari-stars-of-the-south]

Tûl Harar WIP: Arrival of the Blue Istari

Just a WIP I am working on involving Manó and Aratacáno, and a few of my other OC's. Princess Fisrah of Tûl Harad, a city in Far Harad, helps her father in the welcoming of two strangers.

From high atop her throne that sat just to the left of her father’s even more grandiose one, Princess Fisrah watched the two men approach. They seemed to be a duo of peasant merchants, with their plain clothing and walking sticks, and the princess sniffed at them in contempt. The princess placed her decorated hands demurely in her lap as she only half-listened to the proceedings. Rings and gems glittered and made a gentle tinkling sound as she made the slightest movement. Sumptuous silk made a soft hissing with the adjusting of an arm or the crossing of a leg. A long, dark braid decorated with expensive baubles sat over a slender shoulder.

Normally, it was her brother Hadhokor who would take part in these sorts of things, him being the first born male by their father. But he was away now, fighting in some skirmish. But her father had seen fit to have Fisrah sit in Hadhokor’s place, telling the princess to take leave of her ladies and their gossiping.

“Strangers from the North,” she heard her father, the Lord Azhab, say with a sneer and a wave of a hand. “Why should I welcome you? Do you wish to bring the Elvish war upon us all? Don’t think that we are deaf to the rumors here in my court. There may be a huge distance between our lands, but word travels fast, especially in the caravans. My people have no need for more wars or for shedding blood. They’ve seen enough of that already.”

One of the two “merchants” stepped forward, the taller of the pair, a reddish tint coloring the silvery locks (his looks almost attractive, even, in Fisrah’s opinion), and he spoke, bowing politely to those assembled:

”You couldn’t be farther from the truth, your eminence. We are but humble tradesmen, my friend and I. We wish no trouble on your citizenry”

Fisrah took note of how her father analyzed the man’s words, his eyes cold and shrewd, sitting forward in his chair and rubbing his bearded chin in thought:

“I see. But how do in know that you’re just not trying to trick me with your silver tongue? And your silent friend. What has he to say about all of this? Or have you instead come to my city to kill me and steal my authority?”

The other man’s head popped up then, and Fisrah could almost believe that she saw a flash of anger there on the ageless Elven features. Though the two seemed to be old men clutching tightly to walking sticks, there was something to them that she could not name. She had never seen one of the Elven folk before, only heard the tales, but Fisrah supposed that this is what they must look like.

Who are these men who claim themselves mere merchants?

”Shall I have my guards search you and throw you into the dungeons to let your flesh be torn apart by my tigers for speaking such treasons?”

Flinching at the image conjured up in her mind, Fisrah idly pushed it from her head. She had better things to consider, places to be, other than such horrid and unnecessarily bloody events. How she detested talk like that!

Tension hung in the air then, staring daggers, neither saying anything to the other. 

It was then, that the princess shifted in her seat, moving gracefully to whisper in her father’s ear in a sweetened tone:

”Father, these men are tired, having clearly traveled from afar. Perhaps we might offer some food and shelter? It is obvious they mean no harm.”

Letting out a huff, the Lord Azhab finally sat back, his arms across his chest. It seemed to her that he did take heed of her words, thinking them over before giving his reply to the two men.

”I’ve heard quite enough from you.” Lord Azhab spat, “Not enough from your friend however. I shall like to hear what he has to say as well. I command it.”

Giving another small bow, the man moved aside, giving room to the other stranger. The princess saw how the silent one slowly hobbled forward, his gaze stern and unyielding as that of his fellow merchant (if that was what they truly were). It was like staring straight into the gaze of the Great Judge himself, having one’s very soul on display.

The princess could not suppress the shiver that slid up the length of her spine, swallowing hard. It was far from a cold day, and yet it felt like an icy wind blew right through the room. 

A group of armed soldiers stepped up, hands on their swords and ready to defend their lord. As if mesmerized, Lord Azhab waved them to step back.

What threat is an old and feeble man, in anycase?

Opening his hands in a friendly gesture, the silent one did finally speak:

”My good and mighty Lord of Tûl Harar, we two are bringers of peace. That is all. We bring no weapons or any enemies trailing behind after us. Nor do we have any dubious connections with the Northern forces from Gondor or otherwise. Let us go free, and we will trouble you no more.”

The man’s words took hold of them then, grabbing their attention and not letting go. Even Fisrah tried to fight it, but in the end had to relent to whatever spell was woven by this strange man who wasn’t just a man. And suddenly, the pair became tall and majestic as any king surrounded by subjects, ready to put out a hand and speak an order to them. 

“You…what power do you have that gives you the right to speak to me like that??” Azhab said, standing from his seat, hands clenched at his sides. 

A hush filled the room, as there was no response. Fisrah brought a hand to her mouth, letting out a soft gasp.

Yes, that was what they were. Spies. They obviously wanted to steal the wealth from her father and cast them out onto the street.

“Spies, then. That is what you are. Spies, and snoops.”

Turning, the lord quietly spoke to a man to stood off to the side, head lowered in respect. When Azhab turned back, he sneered:

“We will show you how we deal with spies, in Tûl Harar.”

[annatars-nine-rings]

Hey guys if anyone is interested in Tolkien AU’s or the blue istari, I’ve a sideblog dedicated to my two Tolkien OC’s (Mano and Aratacáno), Maiar of Mandos and in AU where they are the blue istari. It’s over at @blue-istari-stars-of-the-south

[annatars-nine-rings]

I do have a sideblog based on my two Maiar of Námo OC’s (that are also the Blue Istari) if interested

—-> @blue-istari-stars-of-the-south

[ohmyarda]

Personal theory on the Blue Istari

So I have really been pondering the concept of Morinehtar and Rómestámo lately, alongside my good friend @slithertoes. What has come to be decided is that their Maiar names may very well be Alatar and Pallando, seeing these were the early references of the two. What follows is what I have decided to establish as my own personal preference in reference to the two wizards. Tolkien never did specify what happened to them. It is just evident that, seeing as Gandalf/Olorin was the only to succeed in his stand against Sauron, they failed in some mannerism of speaking - or merely did not desire to return to Valinor at all. What we do know about Alatar and Pallando is that they were Maiar of Oromë. They were chosen to stand against Sauron and be sent into the east because of their master's knowledge of the distant lands. After all, the east was where the elves had awakened at the bay of Cuiviénen to whom Oromë came across in his adventuring. Therefore Alatar and Pallando would be best suited for the long journey, given their wisdom as well as their stamina as hunters. There are speculations as to when the Blue Istari arrived within the east in their guise of wizards. Some say it was in T.A. 1000 alongside the other Isari, others argue that it was before such; in TA 1600 alongside Glorfindel. No matter, what can be known is that their purpose was to keep the east from falling to Sauron. Therefore they possessed little to no involvement in the Lord of the Rings trilogy because it mainly occurred within the westlands. Tolkien did confess he had two theories as to what happened to the Blue Istari. His first, stated in 1958, was - "(I) think they went as emissaries to distant regions, East and South, far out of Númenórean range: missionaries to 'enemy-occupied' lands, as it were. What success they had I do not know; but I fear that they failed, as Saruman did, though doubtless in different ways; and I suspect they were founders or beginners of secret cults and 'magic' traditions that outlasted the fall of Sauron." Here it was confessed the two were corrupted by Sauron, as was Curumo, and created secret occults of dark magic. The second theorized in the end of Tolkien's life, however, confessed a very different outcome of the two. "Their task was to circumvent Sauron: to bring help to the few tribes of Men that had rebelled from Melkor-worship, to stir up rebellion ... and after his first fall to search out his hiding (in which they failed) and to cause [?dissension and disarray] among the dark East ... They must have had very great influence on the history of the Second Age and Third Age in weakening and disarraying the forces of East ... who would both in the Second Age and Third Age otherwise have ... outnumbered the West." Here Tolkien allured that they were very essential in keeping the fall of the south, and protecting the victories of the west. Evidently the two are very altered and very contradicting. So the question that remains is, which is true? Did they fall from grace or were they saviors of the south? After all, Morinehtar is described as being 'darkness-slayer' and Rómestámo as 'east-helper' and therefore it seems to confess that their nature is very much in alignment to the secondary theory. But as stated earlier, only Gandalf was the one to succeed in his quest. It is stated clearly within the text; "Wilt thou learn the lore || that was long secret of the Five that came || from a far country? One only returned. || Others never again." That means, even if they had protected the eastern elves and man from the influence of Sauron, they still failed in the end. Either that or they stayed amongst Middle Earth or even perished to death as Curumo met his end. Therefore, I have come to accept an alternative to the Blue Istari, to which I personally feel rather drawn to for the theory combined the two Tolkien had pondered. That one fell to the thrall of Sauron, while the other stood against him in defense of the east, each struggling against the other. Now the question remains, which Blue Istari fell to Sauron and who remained adamant in the quest given to them by the Valar? To decide such, one must look at each Blue Istari individually. For while they were both kinsmen of Oromë and renowned friends, each were brought into the council by a different circumstance. Alatar, or Morinehtar, was one of the original three Wizards selected by the Valar for the journey from Valinor to Middle-earth (the other two being Curumo and Olórin - Saruman and Gandalf). It was he who selected his friend Pallando (Rómestámo) to travel with him into the Outer Lands. Therefore it is evident Alatar possessed more of a moral obligation to seeing the defeat of Sauron, and therefore maintained a greater will of purpose to the task then Pallando, who had merely been brought alongside as support. One would then assume that perhaps it was Pallando who was more easily subjugated to Sauron's manipulation, seeing as he did not possess the personal desire to save Middle Earth. However, it is evident that Sauron does not always target the weak over the strong. For when he came to Middle Earth in the Second Ages as Annatar, he knew well that man was more easily lead astray, but he knew that the elves possessed the greater opportunity, despite being more difficult to betray. Therefore I am more drawn to the thought of Alatar failing in his purpose, as Curumo had. That his stronger will was sacrificed to the means of the enemy; and Pallando was left to fight against his friend and companion who had once seen such great purpose in him. @slithertoes had heavily assisted with this thought, for she had confessed that Pallando knew well of Alatar's original purpose. That Alatar would not have wanted for darkness to succeed, and therefore Pallando knew it was his destiny to finish what his friend had started. But either way, no matter who fell and who remained adamant, the end I presume must end in the death of both. Therefore I believe just as the west fought against itself, so did the east. For Alatar enthralled with magic as Tar-Mairon once did with the citizens of Numenor, and Pallando stood ready and spoke of good council despite being under persecution. For as it states, both failed in their purpose and never did return; and though no doubt this theory, as any other, has its flaws; I merely cannot help but consider such when it comes to the ill fated Blue Wizards, who are forever lost under the light of their brother's moon.