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Now when all were thus come together, then spake Manwë to them and told the tidings of Sorontur and how the chase had failed, but at that time the Gods were wildered in the gloom and had little counsel, and sought each one his home and places of old delight now dead, and there sat in silence and dark pondering. Yet some fared ever and anon out upon the plain and gazed wistfully at the faded Trees as though those withered boughs would one day burgeon with new light: but this came not to pass, and Valinor was full of shadows and of gloom, and the Elves wept and could not be comforted, and the Noldoli had bitter sorrow in the northern lands.

Thereafter in a great time it pierced the grief and the weariness of the Gods that light is gone from Valinor for ever, and that never again will those Trees bloom again at their appointed times. Only the light of the stars remained, save where a glow lay about the fountain of Kulullin playing still or a pale gleam lingered nigh deep Telimpë,8 vat of dreams. Yet even these were dimmed and tarnished, for the Trees bore dew no more for their replenishment.

Wherefore does Vána arise and seek Lórien, and with them go Urwendi and Silmo9 and many of both Vali and the Elves; and they gather much light of gold and silver in great vessels and fare sadly to the ruined Trees. There singeth Lórien most wistful songs of magic and enchantment about the stock of Silpion, and he bid water his roots with the radiance of Telimpë and this was lavishly done, albeit small store thereof remained now in the dwellings of the Gods. In like manner doth Vána, and she sings old golden songs of the happier days, and bids her maidens dance their bright dances even such as they were used to dance upon the sward of the rose-gardens nigh Kulullin, and as they danced she flooded the roots of Laurelin with streams from out her golden jars.

Yet all their singing and enchantment is of little worth, and though the roots of the Trees seem to drink all that they may pour yet can they see no stir of life renewed nor faintest gleam of light; nor withered leaf glows with sap nor blossom lifts its drooping stem. Indeed in the frenzy of their grief they had poured out all the last remaining stores of brightness that the Gods retained, had not of a fortune Manwë and Aulë come upon them in that hour, being drawn thither by their singing in the gloom, and stayed them, saying: “Lo, O Vána, and thou O Lórien, what is this rashness? And wherefore did ye not first take counsel of your brethren? For know ye not that that which ye spill unthinking upon the earth is become more precious than all the things the world contains; and when it is gone perchance not all the wisdom of the Gods may get us more.”

Then Vána said: “Pardon, O Manwë Súlimo, and let my sorrow and my tears be my excuse; yet aforetime did this draught fail never to refresh the heart of Laurelin, and she bare ever in return a fruit of light more plentiful than we gave; and methought the Gods sat darkly in their halls and for the weight of their grief essayed no remedy of their ills. But behold now have Lórien and I put forth our spells and nought may they avail,” and Vána wept.

Now was it the thought of many that those twain Lórien and Vána might not avail to heal the wounds of Laurelin and Silpion, in that no word of the Earth-lady, mother of magics, was mingled in their spells. Therefore many said: “Let us seek Palúrien, for of her magic maybe these Trees shall again know some portion of their ancient glory—and then if light be renewed Aulë and his craftsmen may repair the hurts of our fair realm, and happiness will be once more twixt Erumáni and the Sea”10—but of the darkness and ill days that had long been without the hills few recked or thought.

Now therefore they called for Yavanna, and she came and asked them what they would, and hearing she wept and spake before them, saying: “Know ye, O Valar, and ye sons and daughters of the Eldar, Children of Ilúvatar, first offspring