The Wars of the Valar by Fiondil

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Chapter 47: Brothers’ Keepers

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47: Brothers’ Keepers

Námo entered the Chapel of Stars some hours later. He gazed up at the star-strewn ceiling and sighed. Before entering the Chapel the first time he had been feeling elated at the thought of his recent endeavors. He couldn’t wait to show his new Halls off to the others, Vairë and Oromë especially.

But then he had come in here and looked up even as he was doing now and despaired. How could what he had done ever compete with the beauty of this? It almost seemed unfair that Atar should have had both him and Manwë create something at the same time. None could possibly help but compare this room with his Halls and find them wanting in both grace and beauty.

"I wanted everything to be so beautiful, Atar," he whispered forlornly into the darkness of the Chapel, "but I failed utterly."

"That’s not true you know." Námo turned to see Manwë standing at the doorway. "We all thought your Halls quite beautiful."

"They were just being polite," Námo retorted. "As were you."

Manwë raised an eyebrow at that as he entered the Chapel more fully. "Are you so sure, Námo? That is not how I remember it."

Námo shrugged. "Then I guess we remember it differently...."

****

Námo and Manwë stood before a doorway set in the side of a small hill. It was made of fragrant nessamelda wood, richly carved with animal figures and plants. It swung open at a silent command from Námo.

Inside was a large round hall with several arches through which could be seen other rooms and corridors. In the center of the hall was a fountain tinkling gaily. Manwë smiled at the statue that graced the center of the fountain: Námo with one of his precious nermir in the palm of an outstretched hand. The nermi was not made from the grey stone of the fountain but from different gems in imitation of the living creature. In spite of the fact that there were no windows, the place was well-lit and airy. It was hard to believe that they were standing inside a mound of dirt.

Manwë turned to Námo, his eyes bright with delight. "Why, this is wonderful!" he exclaimed. "And no, I am not just being polite," he added. "This is truly lovely. But what is it for? Who is it for?"

"The Secondborn," Námo answered, not quite believing Manwë’s words. "When their lives in Eä are completed, they will come here for a time before returning to Atar."

Manwë gave him a measured look. "And Atar had you build this now?"

Námo nodded. "I thought it odd, too, seeing as how they will not appear for some time yet. We don’t even know when the Firstborn will awake."

Manwë nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself. "How will you send them on?" he asked.

"Come. I will show you," Námo replied and led him through one of the arches down a dimly lit corridor until they reached another wooden door, this one bare of any design. Námo gave Manwë an apologetic look. "I didn’t have time to do anything fancier."

"That’s all right," Manwë said. "You’ll have time later for that."

The door opened of itself and Námo gestured for Manwë to enter. Inside, Manwë found himself in a grotto through which a river ran, disappearing into stygian gloom. There was a dock to which was tied a boat shaped like a swan, one of Yavanna’s more exquisite creations. In spite of the dimness of the grotto, the boat shone with an inner light of its own.

"The river is really a dimensional conduit, allowing the Secondborn to leave Eä, though none of us would be able to use it," Námo explained.

"Nor would we want to," Manwë countered. "I like the boat. It’s a nice touch."

The two of them stood there for a moment in silence and then Manwë smiled at Námo. "Well, let’s go back to the main hall. I’ve noticed the walls are rather bare but perhaps Vairë can put up some of her tapestries to give the place more color."

"I... well, I thought that the fewer distractions there were the easier it would be for the Children to come to terms with their lives," Námo said, sounding both apologetic and defensive at the same time.

Manwë simply nodded as they retraced their steps. "That makes sense. I suspect that for most leaving Eä will be hard."

As they entered the main hall again, Námo stopped in shock. The place was filled with the other Ayanumuz gazing about and attempting to guess at the purpose for it. Námo turned to Manwë in dismay to find the Eldest smiling sympathetically. "I thought they should see and judge for themselves whether this is a beautiful place or not."

Before Námo could reply the others noticed them and gathered around. Varda gave Námo a brief smile but did not speak. Oromë glanced at Manwë and then gave Námo a shrewd look when he noticed his wary expression. "Your doing, is it?" he asked, casting his eyes about to encompass the hall. Námo only nodded.

"It’s beautiful," Vairë said and several heads nodded.

"Not as beautiful as Manwë’s Chapel," Námo insisted.

"Of course it is," came the surprising reply from Nessa.

"But it’s so plain and ordinary looking next to what Manwë wrought," Námo protested.

Several of them shrugged. "Plain is good," Tulkas replied, "and there is nothing wrong with ordinary. Much of life is both."

"Why did you create this place?" Ulmo asked.

Námo explained and there was silence between them at the implications of what he had told them. Finally, Varda spoke. "Did you create this place for love of the Children who will someday come here?"

Námo nodded. "And for love of Atar," he added shyly, not quite meeting the Star-Queen’s gaze.

Varda reached over and lifted his chin so he had to look at her. She smiled. "For those very reasons, Námo, this place is beautiful."

"You might want to know," Manwë interjected, "that the Chapel is not of my own design but rather it was given to me by Atar. All I did was call it into existence. This place, however, is from your own mind, is it not?"

"Yes," Námo admitted. "I asked Atar what I should do but he told me I would figure it out for myself."

"And for that reason, your efforts are greater than mine," Manwë concluded. "You brought all this into existence from your own thoughts, from the depths of your own heart and soul. That shows great power and it was masterfully done. I think this is a wonderful place and the Secondborn should find great peace and solace here before moving on. Well done, brother!"

There was general approbation all around as the other Ayanumuz offered their own congratulations to Námo and they insisted he give them all a guided tour. They were especially enthralled by the swan boat and thought the entire layout of the halls both economical and beautiful. Námo still wasn’t convinced of their sincerity, but accepted their praises gracefully enough.

As they were leaving to return to Ilmarin, Oromë asked Námo what he was going to call the place.

"I’m not sure yet," he replied. "Any suggestions?"

"Hmm... how about ‘Námo’s Hideaway from Vairë’?" Tulkas offered with a wink. Vairë glared at him but the others, except Námo, laughed.

"Perhaps it should be the other way around," Manwë suggested and now it was Námo’s turn to glare. The laughter just got louder as they took turns coming up with other suggestions, some sillier than others. By the time they reached Ilmarin even Námo was laughing....

****

"Your brethren rejoice in all that you do, Námo," Manwë said as the two stood under the canopy of stars in the Chapel. "Unlike Melkor, we are incapable of lying. Your Halls are truly beautiful and I have no doubt that they will grow more beautiful as the ages pass, whereas this Chapel will never change. It will always be as you see it, though I think I might add some candlelight and Vairë has promised me one of her tapestries. Yet, beyond that, all will be as you see it now. On the other hand, I think as the ages progress your Halls will be enlarged and embellished until they are truly works of art. You have nothing to be ashamed of, brother. You are greater and more powerful than you know."

Námo sighed. "I always thought I was the least of you, my... so-called talents of little use to anyone. Sometimes I wonder why I ever came to Eä."

"It is true that your visions can be... uncanny at times," Manwë allowed, "but that is just part of who you are and we have come to accept it. Also, do you seriously think someone like Vairë would agree to espouse you if she thought you were less than you truly are? She’s more discerning than that."

"Melkor said...."

"Melkor has said many things," Manwë retorted coldly and Námo caught a glimpse of his elder brother’s hidden pain when their eyes met, though the contact lasted only a few seconds.

"Would you care to talk about it?" he quietly asked after a brief silence.

Now Manwë sighed and for a long moment did not answer but simply gazed upward at the stars. Finally, he looked down and gave Námo a nod. "Perhaps I should." He paused for a moment and Námo waited patiently, never moving. "I sometimes envy you, you know, you and Irmo," Manwë suddenly said.

Námo felt a shock at those words. "Why would...?"

"You have what I lost," Manwë answered, "a brother who loves you."

Námo did not speak, but indicated with a gesture that Manwë should continue. "You’re too young I think to remember Melkor before he became secretive and moody," Manwë said. "He and I...." but he found he could not complete the thought.

"I remember," Námo said quietly, dredging up memories of an earlier time that was before Time when he had indeed been young and innocent. "Melkor used to tease Varda and made sure you got the blame for it." He gave Manwë a sly smile and the Eldest chuckled.

"She was a force to be reckoned with even then," he commented.

Námo nodded. "I was terrified of her," he confessed, " and Irmo! Every time Varda even looked his way he went running to Atar." He gave a light laugh. "We could never understand how Nienna could be her friend."

Manwë smiled but he eyed the younger Ayanuz shrewdly. "Did Melkor terrify you back then as well?" he asked.

Námo went still at the question and he dropped his eyes, unable to meet Manwë’s gaze. "Sometimes," he finally admitted, speaking softly. "He found me once when I was wandering through the Void alone...." He closed his eyes as a shudder ran through him. "I made sure that I was never alone after that."

"What did he do?" Manwë demanded hoarsely, a sense of horror rising within him.

Námo opened his eyes and shrugged. "Nothing really. It’s what he said that frightened me. I think even then, before ever the first note of the Ainulindalë was Sung, he tried to... to seduce me to his side."

Manwë felt compelled to take the younger Ayanuz into his embrace. "I am so sorry," he whispered.

Námo just shrugged. "Not your fault," he said. "He would call me ‘Little One’... I always hated him for that."

Manwë stepped back to look at Námo more directly. "Hate? Do you truly hate him?"

Námo shrugged. "I do not know. I only know that I do not — cannot — love him. He hurt me too much for that."

"Whereas I cannot stop loving him no matter the harm he has caused," Manwë said with a sigh, an expression of extreme sorrow on his face. "Always I pray that he will find his way back to us... to me... to Atar, but I fear my prayers are in vain and my hope is as dust."

For some reason Námo could not help but smile, though it held no warmth. "We’re a pathetic pair, aren’t we?" he asked wryly and Manwë found himself smiling back, the mood lightening between them.

"You never seemed to mind Aulë or Ulmo calling you ‘Little Brother’, though," Manwë commented shrewdly.

Námo sighed. "From them I knew it meant that they loved me. From Melkor... he made me feel worthless and insignificant."

"Yet you are neither," Manwë retorted. "You said it yourself, Aulë and Ulmo love you, as do we all. Can you truly believe we would think any less of you or dismiss your honest efforts in creating beauty?"

"I always thought that because fewer of the Máyar took oath with me that they only did so because no one else wanted them, that they were too weak and useless for anyone else."

Manwë gave Námo a look of shock and disbelief and for a long moment he could not reply but finally he pulled himself together and his expression became sterner. "They cleaved to you, Námo, because they recognized your worth... and theirs. Never doubt that. And if the Máyar in your service are fewer than those who serve the rest of us, what of it? Do their brethren despise them and shun them? I think not." He paused as he gauged the effect his words had on Námo, who still did not look convinced. "Do you know what Eönwë said to me when he returned to my service?"

Námo shook his head, giving Manwë a quizzical look.

"He told me that while he was with you he learned the true meaning of the word ‘love’ when he witnessed the way you treated your Máyar and the way they responded to you. He said that he almost envied those in your service for what they receive from you and he thanked me for, and I quote, ‘punishing me so lovingly by giving me over to Lord Námo’s correction.’"

Námo stood there speechless, staring at Manwë, searching desperately for any sign of insincerity in the Eldest’s words, and detecting none, he found himself suddenly weeping. Manwë took him back in his embrace and rocked him gently.

"You see," he said softly, "you are loved and respected by all, not the least by me."

"Th-thank you... brother," Námo stuttered.

Manwë gave him a squeeze and then released him. "You know, I just realized something," he said quietly.

"Wh-what?" Námo asked, attempting to wipe the tears from his face.

"I lost one brother, but Atar gave me six others, including you. I’m not as alone as I once thought." He bent over and gave Námo a brief kiss on his brow and smiled. "Thank you, brother." Then, without giving Námo a chance to respond, he glanced briefly up at the stars still shining down upon them and walked away, leaving Námo alone once more. For a long moment Námo just stood there, staring after him.

*Well done, best beloved,* Atar’s voice came to him in quiet approbation.

"What do you mean, Atar? I did nothing."

*On the contrary, Child of Mine, thou didst give unto Manwë what he needed most... thy compassion.*

"I guess...." Námo replied doubtfully, trying to remember just when he’d been compassionate.

*It is for that very reason that I created thee, Child,* Atar said. *Thou art the Compassionate One, the Consoler and Comforter. That is thy true purpose in Eä. Judge and Doomsman thou shalt be of necessity, but these roles shall not delimit what and who thou art. Thou’rt more than thou deemest, Námo."

Námo contemplated Atar’s words, thinking back on the conversation between him and Manwë. "I think we both needed each other just now," he said.

*Indeed,* came Atar’s reply.

"I’m not the only one Melkor has hurt," Námo acknowledged, speaking almost to himself. "He always made me feel... weak."

*Yet it is in thy very weakness that thou’rt strong,* Atar said, *for when thou dost encounter weakness in others thou canst give them thy compassion born from the experiences of helplessness thou hast suffered and in giving them that thou givest them also hope to overcome their own sense of impotence, just as thou hast. That is a mighty gift indeed and a grave responsibility.*

Námo nodded, realizing the truth of Atar’s words. "I thank thee, Atar," he said simply.

*Thou’rt most welcome, Child,* Atar replied, sending a loving caress that eased the final ache in Námo’s fëa. Námo gave one more glance at the stars shining above him and then started to leave the Chapel. *Where goest thou?* Atar asked.

Námo suspected Atar knew well enough, nevertheless he answered, "Back to my Halls. I have much to do to make them even more beautiful for the Children when they at last come to me. I only hope they will appreciate my efforts on their behalf."

*They will,* Atar assured him, *as do I.*

Námo smiled, and for the first time in a long time, he felt himself truly blessed.

****

Nessamelda: (Quenya) ‘Nessa-beloved’, a fragrant tree found in Aman.

Note: There is no definite description of Námo’s Halls, but certainly it would have started out less elaborately than it later became.