Vàna was irked. Now, that did not happen much. She liked to consider herself a calm and sweet-tempered Valië. Those who knew her best did not actually agree with her, but since she was a calm and sweet-tempered Valië, this did not trouble her. There were always bound to be disagreements between friends and family.

But she was irked. And she was despondent. She had come to the conclusion she had no particular skill. The flowers and the birds liked her, yes, but look at all the other Valier! She was useless. No one really cared for her. Her husband should have, at the very least, but oh no, darling Oromë preferred killing animals over spending time with his wife! How insulting!

She reveled in her misery as she viciously braided flowers into her hair. It was rather spiteful of her, Oromë was allergic to them. But what did Oromë really matter? It wasn't like he spent any time with her.

He had never really cared about her, she decided. He had never mentioned anything he loved about her. Not her golden hair nor 'the beauty of both heaven and earth upon her face.'

No, no, no, he was probably out performing taxidermy right now, and completely ignoring her. Life was terrible.

Another insult rankled clear as she angrily pushed aside the waves of golden flowers. He had told her to stay in bed this morning. Why? Because all the birds sang when she got up, and Oromë wanted to sleep in late.

"He's an awful husband." she said, and glared at the flowers that were blooming ever so sweetly, and the birds that were singing ever so happily with their adoring mates. She lifted up her skirts and marched decisively out of her garden, heading towards Oromë's forest. She was going to have a talk with her husband.