1.) Where does the raiment that the Valar clothe
themselves come from? As in, who creates that?
Spirit becoming or taking on flesh, incarnation another Christological
association here, but the divine being able to wear form like clothing is a
feature of many religion systems. This is another one of those mysteries
that cannot be comprehended in physical terms, for it is the production of a
physical form out of a non-physical essence and begs the question what physical
form is.
Now the Elves are divided between the fëar (the soul or spiritual side) and
hröar (the body which can be killed) and the soul has to have a house; when the
body is killed, the soul must go to the Halls of Mandos and to return to the
world needs to take on flesh again. But the Valar are in essence purely
spiritual beings and can exist "houseless," so they do not need a container to
appear, and are (for the most part) not tied to the physical stuff of
Arda. Morgoth becomes locked in his body only after disseminating his
spirit into the fabric of Middle-earth, so he's the exception.
2.) What do you picture the Valar to look like? Are
they bound to size?
Elves, only taller and grander. They are not giants, but have a more
powerful, beautiful (or terrible I should add) form than even the absurdly
gorgeous firstborn Elves.
3.) The way I read it, the Valar have gender, but the
physical expression of it is not what makes their gender. Why the
inclusion of this specification?
Well, Tolkien isn't one of those who believes gender is a social construct!
:-) It is an expression of soul, and the physical form is but a
by-product, the way that spiritual side manifests itself inside Arda.
4.) What of the name "Valar?"
Non-etymolically correct association here, but I think of the Valkyrie whenever
I see that name. (Cue the Wagner music... the Flight of the
Balrogs!!). I like the meaning Tolkien gives that name: the
powers. That's perfect for angelic demigods or whatever else we want to
call
them.
But an equally basic passion of mine ab initio was for myth
(not allegory!) and for fairy-story and above all for heroic
legend on the brink of fairy-tale and history, of which there
is far too little in the world (accessible to me) for my
appetite....Also -- and here I hope I shall not sound absurd --
I was from early days grieved by the poverty of my own beloved
country: it had no stories of its own (bound up with its tongue
and soil), not of the quality that I sought, and found (as an
ingredient) in legends of other lands. (Letter #131)
