In LOTR with Harry Potter system-Chapter 456: The Resurrection of the Twin Holy Trees

The Sun-vessel and Moon-vessel arrived at last. Arien and her companions bore the golden fruit and silver flower aboard, delivering them to Varda.

These were the source of Arda’s sun and moon. In ancient times, after Morgoth and Ungoliant had conspired to destroy the Two Trees, the Vala Yavanna had coaxed forth one final fruit and one final flower through her song, the last gifts of Laurelin and Telperion, to replace the Trees and continue illuminating the world.

Now, in a great harmony of divine voices, the assembled Valar sang together, and with the golden fruit and silver flower as their core, they shaped something far grander: a true, blazing star, and a luminous moon to accompany it.

The star born from their song burned with a fierce, solar fire. So intense was its radiance that only Arien, the Maia who had always tended the Sun-vessel, could endure its heat and guide it. The star’s gravitational pull was immense, its surface scorching beyond measure. Were it not for the dense cloud layers summoned by the Valar to shield Arda from the worst of the Sun’s fury, the earth would have been reduced to barren, lifeless wasteland.

But the Sun could no longer remain within Arda’s atmosphere. Varda pushed it outward into the void, setting it in orbit far beyond the other celestial bodies. The Moon was likewise set into its own orbit, positioned at opposing poles, east and west, each tracing a great circle around Arda.

And so, for the first time, Arda’s Sun no longer merely rose from the eastern horizon of Middle-earth and set into the western sea beyond Valinor. Instead, it encompassed the entire globe. The former Lands of Eternal Darkness, the lightless regions that had never known the Sun’s passage, were illuminated at last. Every shadow retreated. Every dark corner of the world received its share of light.

When the work was complete, a colossal star system had come into being, centered upon Arda and composed of hundreds of millions of celestial bodies, each set in harmonious orbit.

The space beyond Arda was no longer a void of perpetual darkness. It was filled with light and color. Spinning planets infused the once-silent expanse with a quiet, majestic vitality.

Of course, even the combined efforts of all the Valar had produced a star system that occupied only a tiny fraction of the sub-universe created by Eru Ilúvatar. The vast majority of space remained shrouded in darkness and emptiness. But the subsequent expansion, transforming this single star system into clusters, galaxies, and perhaps one day filling the entire sub-universe with celestial bodies , could not be accomplished overnight. It would require Varda to create stars continuously, patiently, across unimaginable spans of time.

Though this might seem an endless and overwhelming task, for Varda, whose domain now extended across the infinite potential of cosmic space, it was not a burden but a calling. Something to pursue with tireless devotion.

And as the celestial bodies continued to evolve and multiply, it became clear that the true supreme power in this new cosmic order might ultimately belong not to Manwë, King of the Airs, but to Varda, the goddess who commanded the ever-expanding universe of stars.

In gratitude for the other Valar’s aid in creating the star system, Varda granted each of them a celestial body to claim as their own.

Ulmo, Lord of Waters, claimed the water-world Raimë, Neptune.

Tulkas, the Champion, claimed the fire-world Carnil, Mars.

Aulë, the Smith, claimed the ringed world Lumbar, Saturn.

Yavanna, Queen of the Earth, claimed the great world Alcarinquë, Jupiter.

Manwë, the Elder King, claimed the ice-world Luinil, Uranus.

The remaining Valar likewise chose celestial bodies according to their natures and preferences, each selecting a planet whose attributes resonated with their own domain.

Among the Maiar, Arien and Tilion, who had faithfully guided the Sun-vessel and Moon-vessel since the destruction of the Two Trees, were granted the Sun and Moon themselves in recognition of their ages of devoted service.

As for the Star of Eärendil, Venus, the brightest light in the heavens, it remained with Eärendil, as it always had.

And for Sylas, Varda prepared something singular.

In gratitude for the one whose wisdom had made all of this possible, the Star-Queen personally fashioned a dazzling star and set it at the celestial north pole of Arda. Unlike every other celestial body, which moved and shifted along their orbits, this star was fixed, immovable, eternal. It became the central axis of the constellations, the point around which all other stars appeared to turn.

It was Arda’s North Star.

Varda named it Doelir.

Permanently fixed, the Star of Sylas would guide Arda’s beings forevermore.

The new planetary system was complete. Yet Varda still faced one troubling problem.

Though her stars were luminous, they could not compare to the brilliance of the Sun and Moon. The universe was boundless, and while the Sun could illuminate Arda and its surrounding space, its light could not reach the most distant reaches of the void. Varda could continue creating stars endlessly to fill the darkness, but compared to the infinite expanse of the cosmos, each new star was like a single firefly in an endless night, beautiful, but impossibly small.

To truly fill the dark universe with light and life, she would need to create more suns. Only stars of that magnitude could bring warmth and vitality to the void. Even the Moon, luminous as it was, could not compare to the Sun’s life-giving power.

If the Two Trees had still lived, Varda could have stimulated the growth of more golden fruit from Laurelin, and from each fruit fashioned a new sun-star. But the Two Trees had been destroyed, poisoned by Morgoth and devoured by Ungoliant. Though Yavanna, the Queen of the Earth, had coaxed forth one last golden fruit and one last silver flower before the end, the Trees had withered completely after that final effort. They were dead beyond recovery.

Or so everyone believed.

Just as Varda’s expression darkened with sorrow, Sylas stepped forward.

"Teacher, I may have a way to revive the Two Trees."

Varda’s eyes lit up instantly. "Sylas, what method do you have?"

Her trust in him was absolute now. Ever since his guidance had led to the creation of the star system, Varda had regarded Sylas as a true equal, weighing his words with the highest respect.

The other Valar turned to him as well, their expressions ranging from surprise to intense curiosity. Yavanna, in particular, leaned forward with keen interest. She was the creator of the Two Trees, if she could not revive them, what method could Sylas possibly possess that she lacked?

Yavanna knew of only one path to resurrection: before the Trees had fully withered, the three Silmarils could have been broken open to extract the original light of the Two Trees contained within them. With that primordial radiance, she could have used her power to restore them. But Fëanor had refused her plea absolutely, clutching the Silmarils to himself with fierce, unyielding possessiveness. Without the original light, Yavanna had been left powerless to heal the Trees’ poisoned roots.

And now, the three Silmarils were scattered beyond all hope of reunion, one lost in the fiery chasms of the earth, one cast into the depths of the sea, and one set in the sky as the Star of Eärendil. Each had found its own destiny. There was no gathering them again.

Indeed, when the Valar had shaped the new sun-star around the golden fruit, Varda had not hesitated to use the remaining Silmaril as its core, repurposing its light for the greater good of the cosmos.

Facing the watchful eyes of the assembled Valar, Sylas remained calm. He raised his hand and gestured toward a tree growing in the gardens of Ilmarin.

They watched as the power of time enveloped the tree. Before their eyes, its trunk began to shrink, reversing at a speed visible to the naked eye. Branches retracted into the trunk. Leaves furled and vanished. The tree grew smaller and younger, decade after decade unwinding in moments, until at last it was nothing more than a seed buried in the earth.

A stunned silence fell over the assembly.

"Truly, a mysterious and awe-inspiring power!" Yavanna exclaimed, her green eyes bright with wonder and a radiant smile spreading across her face. "You intend to use the reversal of time to restore Laurelin and Telperion to their perfect, living state?"

Sylas nodded, but his expression carried a note of honest humility.

"The Two Trees were destroyed four ages ago. My power over time, though it has grown greatly, may not be sufficient to reverse so vast a span on my own. I will need the aid of Lady Yavanna, and of the other Valar as well."

Yavanna’s smile deepened, warm and gentle.

"Laurelin and Telperion were trees I once sang into being. Now that there is a chance to see them live again, I want nothing more. Whatever you need from me, Sylas, you have only to ask."

"Then I thank you, Lady Yavanna," Sylas said with a respectful bow.

The other Valar likewise pledged their support. And so, the assembled Powers of Arda, alongside Sylas, descended via the golden bridge of Ilmavelë from the summit of Taniquetil to Valmar, the great city of the Valar in Valinor.

Valmar was a city built for beings of divine stature, vast beyond mortal comprehension, its proportions those of giants. Its inhabitants were the Valar, the Maiar, and those Elves who dwelt in the Blessed Realm.

The streets were paved in silver, gleaming as though cast from pure metal, their surfaces scattered with countless crushed diamonds that caught the light with every step. The rooftops of the city’s buildings were fashioned of gold, not gilded, but solid, luminous gold, and the great gates displayed a pale, yellowish-green hue, intricately carved with scenes depicting the history of the world from the moment of creation to the present day.

Within the city’s towers, domes, and public halls, innumerable bells of silver and gold hung from every arch and spire. They rang ceaselessly, marking daily announcements, celebrations, councils, and sacred ceremonies. The sound reverberated throughout Valmar, solemn and holy, yet never harsh or shrill. Instead, the countless bells wove together into a vast, harmonious symphony, a sound that was deafening in its fullness yet crystalline in its clarity.