Romennie by Kaylee Arafinwiel

Welcome to Mandos

I base my interpretation of Lord Namo on that of Fiondil. Calimo is one of his OCs, one of the Namolie.

“Come here, my child.”

He looked at her, my master – this trembling Child of Men, so cruelly used – and held out his arms, giving her a loving smile. His amaranthine eyes were soft now; a violet light emanating from him that was peaceful and soothing despite his forbidding black robes. She stood before him, approaching with tentative steps, unsure – and flung herself into his arms, needing the comfort, needing to trust.

“You’re not Atto,” she said softly, and he shook his head.

“Nay, my child. I am not. I am Lord Námo, of whom you have perhaps heard.”

Her grey eyes widened. “I…dead,” she said slowly, and he nodded, stroking her hair.

I watched as my master held this precious Child, more vulnerable than most. “Yes, my child, you are dead,” he confirmed. “But death is merely a new beginning, Little One. There is naught to fear now; no pain, no sadness. Be comforted, Romennie. The hard part is all over now.” He kissed her on the brow, and she shuddered, weeping. I knew she was not hurt – she was experiencing Joy, and Love, a small portion of the Divine which would hold her once she entered the Presence at last.

Once she had calmed, he set her on her feet. “You do not have to stay here, Romennie,” he said softly. “You may go now into the Presence, if you so wish. Indeed, you cannot remain here forever, for it is not Mortals’ lot. But you may wait for a time, if there is something you wish of me.”

“I want Atto,” she said plaintively, “and Ammë. And my sisters, and Menel.”

My lord Námo nodded thoughtfully. “Thou hast until the passing of Meneldil son of Anarion to remain,” he agreed. “Until then, child, sleep and be comforted.” He beckoned me closer.

“Calimo, take the Child to her rest.”

I bowed. “Yes, my lord. Come, Little Sister.” So saying, I led Romennie, daughter of Anarion, to her sleeping chamber and settled her in. In Mandos, Time mattered not; she might sleep for decades, perhaps a century, before her wish were fulfilled. But for now, she would rest peacefully at last.