Chapter 19: Operation: Taking care of Námo

After Roimewen had been dealt with (she'd paled when her sentence was announced, but had sworn allegiance to Varda without resistance. Even though there had been no sincerity in her words, the Valar hoped she had enough honour left that she at least wouldn't betray her oath), Námo returned to Mandos. As it was getting late, it had been decided to postpone the trials of Sámotára and Nityatinwë until the next day, giving all the Valar the chance to recover from the ordeal that had been todays' trials.

Tulkas wasn't the only one whose resolve and patience had been sorely tested and stretched to its limits today.

Námo was becoming thoroughly fed up with Trials. They seemed to be plagued with them right now. Never in their history had the Valar had to deal with anything like this. The Doomsman, while he hid it well, was exhausted from the events of the last couple of weeks. He could not wait for all this to be over, so he could disappear back into Mandos and not have to interact with anyone (other than Vairë, their Maiar, and the fëar under his care) if he didn't want to.

It was a little-known fact that Námo hated socialising.

Arriving in the blissful silence of his study in Mandos, the Vala closed his eyes, taking a moment to just breath. Once he felt calmer, he opened them, blinking in surprise at the hooded Maia giving him an apprehensive look from where they were curled up on his lounge.

He hadn't realised he wasn't alone and, due to his exhaustion, Námo couldn't immediately place who it was. He was simply too tired to focus properly right now, and felt shame creeping up on him that he didn't recognise one of his own children. His Maiar were his whole world, and that he couldn't recognise one of them immediately…

"M-my lord?"

Námo's eyes widened fractionally. There was no mistaking that voice.

"Mairon? What's with the hood, my son? You've never worn anything like that before. Is everything okay?"

The Maia gave a jerky nod of his head.

"Y-yes. I'm not in trouble?"

Námo stooped down to be at eye level. Though he could not see Mairon's eyes very well with the hood casting deep shadows on his face, the apprehension in his gaze was unmistakable.

"Why would you be in trouble, my son?"

Mairon shrugged his shoulders, looking at the ground.

"You obviously aren't very happy right now. I –" The Maia sighed. "For too long, I was told everything remotely bad that happened was my fault, somehow. M-Morgoth's mood swings were always my fault, and any punishment was always brought on myself. I – I guess some habits…"

The Maia trailed off, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground near his feet. When he said no more, Námo spoke gently.

"My moods are not your concern, Mai, and I will never take negative things out on any of you. We all have our ups and downs, some more than others. I just happen to be on a bit of a down right now, but I will be fine. Now tell me, what's the story behind the hood? I didn't know you liked them."

"I don't. At least, I never used to. They restricted my vision, and He didn't like not being able to see my face if the fancy took Him."

Námo sat down next to Mairon, gently taking hold of his hands. Immediately, the Maia melted into him with a contented sigh, even as he continued talking.

"As for why I am wearing one now…I want to be like you. You are the kindest and most loving person I have ever met. Without you, I – well, let's not go there. I never knew what love truly was, until you showed me by your actions. I – I love you, my lord, and want to be more like you." The Maia hid his face in Námo's chest, suddenly embarrassed. "I know simply wearing a hood won't make me like you, but it's a small step in that direction."

Námo blinked a few times. His vision was suspiciously misty, even as he hugged Mairon closer.

"I – thank you Mairon. That – is the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a while."

The Maia raised his head to look up at him. His hood was pushed sideways by the movement, so Námo was able to see the sincerity and pure love shining in Mairon's eyes as he spoke.

"It's all true though. You are the kindest, most loving, and patient of all the Valar. Yet, you are also the one the Children hate the most, the one other Maiar shrink away from, the one whose role in Arda is underappreciated and even hated…"

The Maia trailed off, The Vala gently kissed his brow, before speaking softly.

"Thank you, Mairon. Thank you. I needed to hear that right now."

The Maia just smiled, snuggling deeper into Námo's embrace. Once the Doomsman felt less emotional, he smiled down at Mairon, tucking a stray strand of hair behind one ear.

"Where did you get the hood from?"

Mairon smiled back at him.

"Lady Vairë made it for me. She agreed to keep it a secret. She gave it to me just this morning, before you both left. I think she knew you'd need cheering up when you got back. How were the Trials?"

Námo sighed. Resting his chin atop of Mairon's head, the Vala closed his eyes as he began speaking.

"They were exhausting and stressful. And we still have them on tomorrow. We only got through two today. Nehtartúra and his sister are dealt with, thankfully; but Sámotára and Nityatinwë still have to answer for their involvement in what happened to you."

Mairon swallowed.

"They didn't want to do it. Sámotára was highly upset the whole time, and Nityatinwë was clearly terrified of Nehtartúra. Wouldn't even look him in the eye. I remember that much from before I was knocked out. After that, everything is a blur of pain and confusion, until you found me. What-what happened to them?"

Námo quickly realised Mairon was asking about Nehtartúra and Roimewen.

"Nehtartúra is at my sister's place. He's going to serve her until further notice. He was very angry about it; I don't envy her job in the slightest. As for Roimewen…well, she is now one of Varda's people. If Varda can't set her straight, then no one can."

Mairon's eyes were wide.

"Really? You took them both away from Lord Oromë?"

Námo nodded.

"Yes. We felt they would benefit from spending some time in a different environment. What they did was very serious Mai; and their punishments reflect that. They brought this on themselves, so don't feel it's your fault. Their actions are no one's fault but theirs. Hopefully, they will use this time away from Oromë to their advantage."

Mairon sighed, absently picking at the embroidery on Námo's sleeve.

"Lord Oromë scares me."

Námo closed his eyes in mental pain at hearing that.

"That is understandable, given your past with him. He didn't exactly make a positive impression on you when he found you."

Mairon shuddered.

"I know he has apologised for that, but I can't shake the memory. H-he was so powerful and scary. And when he brought me back here to face all of you…"

The Maia trailed off yet again, though this time Námo didn't know what to say. Memories of what they'd subjected Mairon to in the Máhanaxar still haunted him, especially as he now knew first-hand how broken and traumatised the Maia had been.

Still was, in fact. The fact he did not fear Námo (or his brother; but then it was hard to be scared of someone when you'd seen them parade around in bright pink robes singing out of tune and of-key about…actually, Námo still wasn't entirely sure what Irmo had been singing about. Either way, pink wasn't exactly an intimidating colour, and Irmo's off-tune singing was even less so) didn't mean he was healed. Far from it. Mairon had just admitted Oromë still scared him, and Námo suspected he felt the same way about Ulmo and Aulë. Mairon didn't do well with large, intimidating males, the Doomsman had noted. Even the male Maiar outside Mandos whom took fanar in that form were eyed off uneasily, though that reaction was not as noticeable as it once had been.

Given the form Melkor had most often taken, this wasn't at all surprising. The abuse Mairon had suffered under the ex-Vala had shaped him into what he was today, both the good and the bad. Námo knew the mental scars the Maia carried would never truly fade, but Mairon was learning to not let them dictate how he lived his life.

The hood was clearly another small step towards reclaiming what Melkor had brutally stolen from him.

Námo suddenly yawned, to his intense surprise. He'd never had something as involuntary as a yawn happen to him while in fana without some warning. Mairon looked up at him in surprise, yawning himself, before sitting up and giving the Vala a considering look.

"You need to rest. You've been pushing yourself too hard these past couple of weeks, without looking after yourself properly." Mairon looked at the Vala accusingly. "Haven't you?"

Námo tried not to look guilty.

"I have been looking after myself. It's just been a big couple of weeks."

Mairon glared at him, unimpressed.

"As I said, you haven't looked after yourself properly. I can fix that, but will need back-up."

Before Námo could ask what Mairon meant, the Maia slid off his lap. Grabbing hold of both his hands, Mairon insistently tugged them. Giving in, the Vala stood up and allowed himself to be pulled out of the room. This was a side of the Maia he hadn't witnessed before; Námo was more than a little curious to see what Mairon would do next.

As he led Námo into the communal sleeping quarters, and the Vala saw the huge pile of pillows, blankets and cushions that had been piled up in the centre, he began getting an inkling of what Mairon had in mind. This was further confirmed when Marilwë appeared with Námo's nightclothes, dropping them into his arms without ceremony.

"Vairë sent them. Call when you are ready but leave the shirt off. It'll be more comfortable."

With that, Námo was left alone with an armful of nightclothes. Feeling bemused, the Vala nonetheless did as ordered, neatly folding his robes and placing them off to one side, before donning his sleep pants. When he was ready, he sent a mental call to Marilwë.

A few seconds later, and the room was very full of Maiar. Námo found himself being forcibly moved over to the pillow/blanket pile he'd noted when he'd first arrived, and made to lie down on his stomach. More than slightly bewildered, he opened his mouth to say something, only to groan in pain instead as strong hands began messaging his tense shoulders with warm oil. Moments later, the soothing scent of lavender permeated his noise, causing any resistance he might have had to what was happening to melt away.

"You have some knots in your muscles." Nurulírë observed critically as his hands skilfully kneaded said knots, eliciting hisses of pain/agony from the Vala. "What have you been doing lately, to make yourself so tense?"

Mairon spoke up from where he was helping Elenfirië and Alassë un-braid and comb out Námo's long black hair. The Vala felt it was a bit of a waste when he could do it himself in a few minutes, but had to admit it felt nice. Especially with how Mai was running a comb over his scalp…

"Not looking after himself is what he's been doing. Ah, Fanyamírë. Do you have the cream?"

Námo did not hear a verbal answer. But, as something warm was rubbed into his feet by deft hands, anything that didn't involve how he was currently feeling rapidly became irrelevant.

"Damn these muscles. His back is one huge knot. Ambariel. Do you want to start on his lower back? I'll never be done at this rate."

Námo groaned in pain as another pair of hands started kneading the taunt muscles in his lower back. Despite the way parts of his back felt like a knife was stabbing through the muscles, the Vala lost himself in the bliss of the moment. Closing his eyes, Námo allowed his Maiar to do whatever they pleased with his fana, manipulating it in whatever direction was needed.

All these hands giving him massages felt so good…

Námo blinked awake, disoriented. Not least by the fact he'd apparently been sleeping, something the Valar very rarely did. There was no reason to, as, even in fanar, they rarely got tired enough that actual sleep happened. Realising he was surrounded by several warm bodies, Námo opened his eyes and, without moving a muscle, looked around.

There were advantages to being a spirit in physical form.

What the Vala saw was at least eighty percent of his Maiar scattered around him, all fast asleep. Several (like Mairon, Marilwë and Elenfirië) were cuddled right up to him, while others slept cuddled up with each other nearby. Remembering dimly what they had done last night made Námo smile softly.

He felt he was the most blessed Vala alive. That his Maiar would do something like that for him, simply because they'd decided he wasn't looking after himself…

They were all still fast asleep, so Námo closed his eyes again. He didn't need any more sleep as he was no tired, but lying here surrounded by his children filled him with a peace and contentment unlike any he'd ever felt.

Even the thought of the Trials they were holding that day didn't cause the feeling to abate. He felt refreshed and positive, ready to face the new day with an energy that had been absent lately.

That had been absent since before the War of Wrath, if he were being honest with himself. It wasn't only the Maiar whom had found the last hundred or so years difficult. Looking back, the Doomsman realised he'd been so flat out looking after others, he had indeed neglected to look after himself. Mairon had been right.

Damn, that Maia was perceptive. While he knew it to be a result of having to anticipate the desires of an abusive bastard before said bastard even knew his desires, Námo couldn't help but be impressed. Mairon was truly remarkable, and never ceased to impress Námo with his optimism and insight. More and more, Námo saw glimpses of the Maia he could be; that he would be, given enough time and love.

Mairon's potential for good was astounding. Námo would do everything in his power to ensure the Maia was given everything he needed to reach it.