The Wars of the Valar by Fiondil

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Chapter 25: The Changing of the Variable

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25: The Changing of the Variable

WARNING: Certain highly intense scenes related to warfare may prove disturbing to some readers.

****

Námo’s plan was to lead his People on a merry chase through Eä, making himself and them targets for Melkor’s minions without necessarily getting caught. He hoped to make himself a tempting enough target to draw a large number of Melkor’s People away from the fight with Manwë and the other Ayanumuz.

At least, that was the idea.

Naturally, it changed the moment it was put into action. Vairë’s ‘abduction’ was the first change. The second occurred when Maranwë and the other Máyar reached nine hundred million and thirty-seven in their counting. Suddenly, Dark Máyar emerged and attacked them. In truth, Námo’s People had not been keeping any real vigilance, so the attack came as something of a shock.

Maranwë wasted no time, however, in castigating himself for this lapse, but immediately sent a plea for help to his lord even as he rescued Tindomerel from being thrown into the Black Hole they’d been circling by one of the attackers. Energy bolts from both groups flashed soundlessly in the vacuum and several Máyar were stunned into immobility though none were seriously injured. Still, the attackers outnumbered Námo’s People by a factor of three; Maranwë and the others were hard-pressed to keep themselves from being herded past the event horizon and into oblivion.

That’s when Námo and Vairë showed up, their aurae blazing in wrath.

"Maranwë!" Námo shouted even as he negligently tossed one of the fiery Máyar with a single thought into the Black Hole, "get out of here! Everyone head for the next rendezvous point."

"We can stay and fight," Calimo protested, failing to deflect an energy bolt just then, which left him stunned. Námo grabbed him before the Dark Máyar attacking could do further damage and thrust him into Maranwë’s embrace.

"Maranwë, all of you, go!" Námo ordered and such was the force of his will that the Máyar thought themselves away, leaving only the two Ayanumuz to face the horde of Dark Máyar, one of whom was Rushirithir. Námo and Vairë could feel the weight of several hundred Máyar mentally pinning them in place, or so they believed.

"Well, well, if it isn’t our little playmate," the Dark Máya sneered. "Couldn’t stay away from the fun and games, could you, Little One?"

"First of all," Námo retorted with steely determination, "I’m not your playmate and second of all, call me ‘Little One’ again and you will truly regret it."

"Oh?" Rushirithir sneered even more. "And how will I regret it... Little One?"

Námo did not say anything at first. Vairë stood beside him, silently gauging their chances of getting out of this predicament without being captured again. She remembered Rushirithir from before and her aura darkened at his taunting. The two Ayanumuz were surrounded, literally. The Dark Máyar englobed them so that they were standing inside a sphere of dark spirits, some of whom, like Rushirithir, sported whips of fire. Námo stared at the Dark Máya with cool disdain, then turned to Vairë.

"I think these Children need a lesson in manners," he said in a conversational tone. "What do you think?"

"Actually, I was thinking I wanted to take their toys away," Vairë said with equal disdain.

Námo smiled, took her in his embrace and kissed her. "Shall we?"

"Oh yes," Vairë said. "I weary of these Children interfering with our... um... own fun and games. Maranwë was bad enough, but these...."

Rushirithir, not pleased to be so ignored, took his whip and struck at Vairë... or at least he tried to. Even as he was aiming the lashes at Vairë, Námo reached out and grabbed the whip, pulling it towards him along with Rushirithir, who was just startled enough not to offer resistance. At the same time, Vairë pinned him mentally so he could not escape and then Námo was using the whip on him, bolts of searing energy lashing into the Dark Máya, causing him to scream, though neither lashes nor screams sounded in the depths of space. All ‘heard’ his shrieks of pain only in the depths of their fëar. Námo never said a word, merely whipping Rushirithir while Vairë stood by and watched. Rushirithir writhed in agony, his screams primal. The other Dark Máyar never moved. Indeed, they found to their horror that they could not, for even concentrating their will on Rushirithir, the two Ayanumuz had the power to hold the other Máyar in place.

Námo stopped only when Rushirithir succumbed to unconsciousness. Then he mentally grabbed every whip held by Melkor’s minions and thrust them towards the Black Hole. Only when the last whip disappeared did he and Vairë release their holds on the Máyar.

"We’ll be going now," Námo said in a tone that held no emotion as he took Vairë into his embrace. Then they thought themselves away, leaving behind dumbfounded Dark Máyar wondering what had happened to their prey, while their leader remained insensate, his dark aura shredded by his own force whip.

****

The two Ayanumuz emerged at the designated rendezvous, a planet orbiting a blue star that had a breathable atmosphere, to find Maranwë and the other Máyar in a state of panic and near despair. Before he could even get his bearings Námo found himself surrounded by weeping Máyar practically falling over each other in their rush to be the first to offer an apology for being so negligent in their duties. Námo gave Vairë a wry look and a shrug which she returned with an indulgent smile.

"Children!" he practically shouted, "Cease this unseemly display at once."

It took them a few seconds to comply and most of them remained on their knees, for they had all incarnated when the Ayanumuz had appeared. Námo and Vairë also incarnated as an accommodation to the Máyar. For the Máyar to have clothed themselves as they did was a sign of abject subservience, which rather surprised the Ayanumuz, though Vairë sent Námo a private message telling him that her own Máyar had done something similar when she had returned to them.

*I think they need reassurance that they still have your favor, Beloved,* she said to him, *and your love.*

*Could they ever doubt it?* he asked in perplexity.

*No more than you doubted Atar’s love,* she reminded him gently and he cringed slightly at that, knowing that he had indeed doubted their Atar’s love after what Melkor had done to him and what he had been forced to do while Melkor’s captive.

"Why these tears, my Children?" Námo said, reaching down to wipe the tears from Tindomerel’s face, she being the closest to him. Maranwë, he noticed, remained in the rear, and had indeed gone flat on his face, refusing to look up. Námo sighed, but returned his attention to the others. "See ye, we are both well and unharmed."

"W-we failed thee, lord," Tindomerel stammered.

"How did ye fail me?" Námo asked, curious as to what answer they would give.

"We should not have allowed Rushirithir and the others to find us," Calimo answered.

"But I wanted him to find ye," Námo stated with a slight smile. "I wanted Melkor’s People to attack ye."

That stopped them all cold and even Maranwë looked up from his prostrate position. Most just knelt there looking stunned, but Tindomerel furrowed her brow. "Thou... thou didst wish for them to find us?"

Námo nodded, continuing to smile. "Yes, my Daughter, I did. Oh, not necessarily then or there but I figured eventually they would go after ye knowing ye would call for me. They thought to use ye to trap me, while all the while I was using ye to trap them."

For a long moment, no one spoke while the Máyar digested that bit of news. Maranwë, Námo noted with approval, even raised himself to his feet to face his lord. "Thou’rt most devious, lord," he said emotionlessly.

Vairë actually snorted at that. "You think?" she asked with an innocent look on her face and several of the Máyar actually snickered. Námo flashed her a smile and a mental kiss before turning his attention back to his People.

"I apologize for what ye have been put through, my Children," he said soothingly. "I did not tell ye my plan for fear that...."

"Nay, lord," Maranwë interrupted. "We are thy servants in all things." He bowed and the others rose and offered their own obeisance.

"Well, now that’s cleared up, Beloved," Vairë said. "What do we do now?"

"Have we missed the signal from Lord Manwë?" Tindomerel asked.

Námo shook his head. "It has not yet come, and so I think we should continue as we have. Melkor’s People will be coming after us soon and...."

Even as he was speaking, several beings emerged, surrounding them on the plain where they were standing and then going corporeal themselves. Námo noticed with grim humor that Rushirithir was not amongst them. Almost immediately, Námo’s People surrounded the two Ayanumuz in a protective circle.

*Why don’t we just think ourselves away?* Vairë asked Námo as she eyed the Dark Máyar advancing upon them.

*I want to keep them occupied,* Námo said. *If they are playing with us, they’re not helping our Fallen Brother and that gives Manwë the advantage.*

*But they outnumber our People three to one,* Vairë pointed out in a reasonable tone.

Námo raised an eyebrow at her. *Our People?*

She merely smiled. Námo was about to bend down and kiss her but one of Melkor’s minions chose that moment to throw something at him. Several of his Máyar attempted to deflect the projectile but the speed with which it had been thrown and the suddenness of the attack took them by surprise and their reaction was too slow. Námo felt a blow to his head and he collapsed to his knees, stunned. He heard confused shouting and Vairë was kneeling beside him, cradling him. It took him a moment to localize the pain and alleviate it enough to focus on what was happening. He glanced at Vairë and his grey eyes were cold.

"I’m getting tired of this, aren’t you?" he asked through gritted teeth.

Vairë nodded as she helped him to stand. "Let us end this charade once and for all."

They turned their attention to what was happening around them. In spite of the fact that Maranwë and his brethren were outnumbered by the Dark Máyar, they were holding their own, though a few were lying stunned. None had gone incorporeal, though, which Námo found interesting. Many were grappling with one another, pounding on one another with fists or rocks (and that was what had been thrown at him he suddenly realized with some irritation). It was difficult, in fact, to separate out his own People from Melkor’s in the melee ensuing around them.

The two of them waded into the fight, grabbing Dark Máyar every now and then and throwing them bodily away with negligent ease, rescuing their own Máyar from suffering serious physical damage. No one fought with any finesse and in fact they were all rather awkward about it, unused as they were to dealing with one another on an incarnate level. It was all rather new to them and the experience was not pleasant. Námo had less problem with it having had to sufferl being in hröa for so long while Melkor’s captive, so he was more effective in grappling with the enemy attacking him. Vairë was not helpless either, having learned something about coping with the physical while a captive as well.

It was while Námo was being attacked by four of Melkor’s People that Manwë’s signal came. "Now is not a good time, Manwë!" he shouted, not sure if Manwë could hear him when he was in hröa, even as he was pushing two of the Dark Máyar off him and tripping a third while the fourth was doing his level best to choke him from behind. Námo bent forward while grabbing the Máya by his arms and pulling him over his head to land on top of the Máya he had just tripped.

Námo then grabbed Vairë and shouted, "Time to leave this party."

Vairë nodded and then the two of them exerted their full powers and pushed the attackers off their People with a single thought while at the same time gathering Námo’s Máyar to themselves and thinking themselves elsewhere, leaving Melkor’s minions once again wondering what had happened.

****

They made three additional ‘jumps’ around the universe to elude Melkor’s People before Námo decided they could stop so he could change the variables on the beacon. It was necessary that there be no interruptions. They all settled in the midst of clouds of gases and dust billowing about them in shades of ochre, coral and brilliant sulphur yellow. Námo turned to his People.

"This time ye must indeed protect me, for I need all my concentration on completing my task. If Melkor’s People attack again, I will not be able to help."

"We understand, lord," Maranwë said with a bow.

"I will watch over thee, Beloved," Vairë said, "so that thy People need not be concerned for thy safety." She gave him a kiss which he returned.

"That is well, Beloved," he replied. "Now let’s see about changing the variable before Manwë comes looking for us in high dudgeon."

She giggled and the Máyar smiled even as they took up defensive positions around the two Ayanumuz. Námo then shut them all from his mind and searched his memory for the information he needed. He sent his thoughts ranging through the universe until he had located the two beacon-stars. It was necessary to change them at the same time. Vaguely, he noticed that there was movement among his People and Vairë’s aura went dark with some emotion that he could not identify, but he pushed these distractions from him.

He called to mind the formula Ulmo had imparted to him and double-checked the configuration of the variable before Singing the change. Even as he did so, he could ‘see’ the beacon-stars changing their positions, moving across Eä so that they were in triangulation with the intended space-time coordinates for the real Atháraphelun. He was just congratulating himself on a job well done when he heard Vairë shouting.

"Námo, watch out! Melkor’s just arrived!"