Now to the actual brainstorming of Voltron that was promised. This is just two characters talking while bringing up as many personal head-canons as possible and fumbling their way to describing basic elements of the fusion/crossover. Here is the first part if you haven’t read it yet.

…

Findis offered one of her small genuine smiles. “I missed having your assistance. Mother and Nerdanel play audience for me when they can, but I do not feel comfortable sharing my ideas with them when the stories are naught but wet clay unshaped and unfired.” Taking a deep breath as if to steady herself for a strenuous physical task, Findis began to outline her thoughts. “A story for young people to be sold in Valmar, Tirion, Alqualondë, and beyond. To be serialized in multiple volumes and fully illustrated. Something with a sweet ending, for I cannot abide to write a tragedy, and had anyone a desire for unhappy endings, there is yet another edition out of Narn i Chîn Húrin. A group of companions fighting against evil forces off in some imaginary place- you would think our appetite for that had waned, but public taste is what it is. Surely you’ve also noticed how popular those imaginary tales of the hero with the bat-fell are both across the sea and here in Valinor? Not that I don’t also greatly enjoy those stories and the new block-prints created using the original author’s stories and chalk drawings from Balar as inspiration.”

Heledir shrugged. “Aglar’s siblings are fans. I find the tales amusing, though the use of a magical bat cloak for a hero …it is difficult for me to imagine for I was dead before Princess Lúthien used the skin of dread Thuringwethil or took the bats under her protection in Tol Galen. In my memories they are still the spies of Morgoth.”

“A point of those stories is how the hero co-opts those symbols of darkness to turn those weapons against evil. Anyways,” Findis said airily, “that’s why his bright squires are more popular. And Leber’s stories are inspiration for the manner of tale I have been commissioned to write. Brightly costumed fighters coming together to have adventures and fight evil forces, prevailing with great triumph and only a little heartache. Stories that make exciting cartoon prints. Centering on mortals – or at least protagonists that seem mortal. For that I shall need your input most of all. The ‘valiant knights with companion steeds’ is still a popular trend, especially with riders sharing with their steeds at least some form of an ósanwë bond. But I admit I grow tired of writing about white horses. I need another animal, or something besides an animal to be ridden. I was thinking of a ship, perhaps, but animate, as if the swan-prows could have actually spoke.”

“And why not?” Heledir asked, picking up on the undercurrent of her words.

“I know little of sailing,” Findis admitted, “and unlike my brother have little interest in spending a summer in Alqualondë collecting the necessary research while reeking of oysters and seaweed.”

“So no to talking ships.”

Findis hesitated. “I did have a notion. About Vingilótë, and the vessels for the last fruits of Laurelin and Telperion, which you would have enjoyed the chaos and excitement involved in their drafting and launch, had you been with us.”

Heledir squashed the impulse to wince at her words. “I followed Prince Finrod and his father.” His tone was more defensive than he wished, and only years of discipline steeled his body posture to face her open and unguarded.

“It was your own choice, and theirs,” Findis snapped, then smoothed her facial expression into one of detachment. “It is my turn for apologies, Heledir. I promised myself to let that old resentment rest. For too many centuries I had nursed this dark feelings, and you are not the intended target of all my ire.”

“Only a token portion,” Heledir teased.

“I will greet my brother with more than just bitterness to give when he is restored to life,” Findis said. “Though to address him as Fingolfin…it is a most inelegant name; you must concur with me, Heledir. You were fortunate that the Sindarin version of your name retained a similar pleasant mouth-sound.”

The re-embodied veteran of Beleriand bowed his head in acknowledgement and forgiveness, then leaned forward. “Back to this story,” he said eagerly, “Flying vessels, crafted of some rare and especially strong metal in the shape of an animal and with some form of sentience – a holy source of power perhaps, or just infused with some of their creator’s will, as with the swords Anguirel and Anglachel?”

“Ah yes!” Findis exclaimed, “The ore that fell from the upper airs like a falling star. Thematically it is perfect, for that iron ore was stronger than any sword forged from the substances of Arda, and since it came from Ilmen, or even the outer reaches of Vaiya that envelop everything from the Void, the readers shall not question the premise of the vessels flying through the airs and upper atmosphere. For simplicity’s sake, though, the star-ore should contain the holy sentience. Nerdanel often speaks of how she can feel a sculpture inside the rock she carves, and that she is freeing and assisting the fëa to manifest the refined form of its hröa. So let it be that in this universe, their Ainur could not enter Eä without difficulty, that they had to enter with souls tied to physical material, as inert ore, and needed the hands of mortals to give them a body that can move and fight against evil. And without a pilot they cannot move, as Anar and Ithil need Arien and Tilion. When they pilot the vessels they have a weak connection to the mind of the holy one. Full conversations would be too easy and complicated.”

Heledir twirled the pen in his fingers. “If there is to be than one vessel-spirit, does that require multiple falling ores? Or did they enter the world as one mass? And was it then when they were divided into bullion that the fëa separated?”

“One ore, I think. As for the fëa, I do not know. As even the Valar began as thoughts of the One, the distinction is minor and I write this as entertainment for children, not philosophy and contemplation on the full meaning of the Song. Anyways, this is not our Eä.”

“So we have our holy spirit ships – built in the forms of birds? Mechanical eagles instead of just prows with a bird’s head.”

“Of course, a full body, like those dwarven toys. The pilot shall sit inside and steer with the eyes of the vessel-beast. And eagles, the audience in Valmar shall embrace a story with riders of giant eagles or hawks, for the animals beloved most by Manwë are the most popular of the Vanyar, second only to lions. Surely you noticed how often their motifs appear in the architecture of the city, in all those garish colors you so disdain?”

The pen held in Heledir’s fingers had stilled, and he sat facing Findis with a quivering tension. She stared at his bright eyes with a dawning understanding. “No.”

“Lions!”

“No,” she groaned, but Heledir’s excited was undaunted.

“Flying lions, Findis! Imagine it!”

“I am, and it is ridiculous.” Yet as she said this, the small honest smile returned to her face.

Encouraged by that smile Heledir cajoled, “Lions are easier to draw than hawks, and easier to describe their body movement and expression. You shall have more options to write their expressions have you four limbs and a tail. And the novelty shall easily capture an audience.”

Findis nodded. “You speak truth. And it is easier to sew a soft toy cat or sculpt various poses. One must consider beyond the words themselves and give others opportunities to contribute their secondary creations. So it shall be: giant flying lions of fallen star ore piloted by mortal companions.”

Heledir began to sketch a blocky lioness on his paper, segmenting the joints like the intricate shadow puppets he saw in Menegroth. “How many lions and their pilot-knights?”

“Twelve or fourteen is far too many to keep track of and give each character enough attention and characterization. A smaller party is better.” Findis paused at the look on Heledir’s face. “I did not mean that as a personal judgement or indictment of you and your companions. Well, aside from the hassle it is to have to find lodgings for all eleven of you including my nephew when you convene for a hunting trip or some other excursion, now that you have all been released from Mandos and the gardens of Lórien. Yet three is too few a number. I was thinking no more than seven or nine, perhaps only five. What are your thoughts?”

Heledir paused from the second doodle on his paper, that of an armored figure. Tapping his pen against the sketch, he spoke. “Five is a good number. The leader, the head who makes decisions. Then his right hand and left, and two more dependable legs.”

Findis nodded. “The other important character shall be their princess, the one who gives them their vessels and rules over them outside of battle. And the chief villain, of course.”

“You have already given thought to them?” Heledir asked.

Findis shifted, re-positioning her folded legs into a more comfortable position, and handed Heledir a fresh sheet of paper. “Here are my thoughts.”

…

Notes: Nerdanel and Indis (Why I can’t decide how Findis addresses Nerdanel), Valinorean fangirling over the Edain, Batman exists in Middle-earth as stories, What happened to the bats aka Bat Mama Lúthien