15: Convincing Námo

"It still doesn’t make sense," Ulmo said in frustration as he, Aulë and Irmo took their ease and watched their home galaxy from a globular cluster as it slowly spun around its core. "How can this be a mirror image of Eä yet have no animal life forms larger than those nermir Námo is so fond of?"

Aulë shook his head. He and Ulmo had been traversing the tenth dimension, checking for similarities and differences. The similarities were eerily close, the differences few, but telling. "What is it that Námo said about this being Eä in potentiality but not in fulfillment?"

"Fulfillment of what, though?" Irmo asked. He had followed the two scientists about, not because he actually understood or had any true interest in what they were saying, but because he had nothing better to do while waiting for his brother to awaken. They had been in the tenth dimension for some time now, long enough for the stars of the Children’s galaxy to shift a degree or two, not long enough to raise any concerns among their Máyar. Irmo was aware that Námo’s own Máyar were understandably upset that they could not come to minister to their Lord, but Manwë had been adamant that none of the Máyar know about this dimension just yet.

"Fulfillment of what is to be."

They turned to see Námo and Oromë standing there. Irmo smiled, but did not go to Námo, having learned better than to approach him uninvited. "Hello, brother. Are you awake for a time, then?"

Námo nodded and gave Irmo a sly look. "Yes, I am, and no I don’t."

Irmo gave him an innocent look. "Don’t, what?" he asked nonchalantly.

Námo grinned and the others were secretly pleased to see their brother Ayanuz’s aura brighten almost to the frequency that was its normal healthy violet. The dark areas, the great rents in his fëa, were slowly closing up. "No, I don’t remember my dreams."

"Don’t remember, or won’t tell?" Irmo countered, refusing to back down. It irked him that, here he had been enjoined by Atar himself to see to the well-being of his fellow Ayanumuz and the Máyar, and Námo refused to let him minister to him.

Námo shrugged, refusing to be baited. "Comes to the same thing, I suppose."

Aulë decided to step in before things became too acrimonious between the two brothers. He sympathized with Irmo’s frustrations, but recognized that perhaps he was too close to the... hmmm... patient... yes, that was a good word for Námo. Manwë had been correct. They needed to let Námo determine the course of his healing.

"Well, now that you’re up," the future Worldsmith said with a smile, "perhaps you can tell us what you learned about this place while you were here alone with Atar."

Námo shrugged again even as he and Oromë settled, joining the others in taking their ease. "Little enough, I’m afraid," he said. "I only realized what this place was just before you found me. Before that, I was too busy healing or fighting with Atar to take any real notice."

"Fighting with Atar?" Ulmo asked with an amused tone. "I bet he enjoyed that."

Námo actually laughed, the first laugh from him that did not have a manic edge to it. It was deep and genuine and they all rejoiced to hear it. "More than I did," he finally said. "I always lost."

Now the others joined him in laughter. When they had calmed, Námo spoke again. "I only know that this dimension will prove important to us in the future, but why that is so has not been given to me to know." He paused, looking suddenly hesitant.

"What is it, Námo?" Aulë asked gently.

Námo did not speak for a time. Instead he gazed across the expanse of space that separated them from their own galaxy and the others wondered if he was actually seeing it... or something else. Finally, he turned his attention back to them and sighed. "I don’t think the Máyar should be told that we’ve found this place... ever."

The other Ayanumuz stared at him in shock. "Why do you say that?" Oromë asked.

Námo shrugged. "Just a feeling I have. I think we should keep this place secret for now. If... if M-melkor ever...."

He could not finish the thought and they all saw his aura darken again in distress. Ulmo, as the oldest amongst them, made a decision, sending a query across the dimensions to Manwë and Varda, who, after a brief consultation between the three of them, gave their consent. "Then that is what we will do," he said decisively. "Melkor will never hear of this place from us."

Námo looked relieved and his aura slowly began to brighten again. "That is not to say, however," Ulmo continued, speaking as gently and as sympathetically as he could, "that our Fallen Brother won’t find this place on his own."

Námo, however, shook his head. "No," he said with great authority, an authority that surprised them all. "Atar will not allow him or his People entrance into this dimension. Melkor can only find it if he suborns one of us and that will not happen among the Ayanumuz. We all suspect that some of our People are in secret sympathy with Melkor. What they do not know, they cannot reveal."

The others looked thoughtful at that and finally Ulmo nodded. "Then we will not speak of it before the Máyar. Manwë has agreed to this."

Námo seemed mollified by that statement and began to relax somewhat. He still kept himself apart from them, with only Oromë nearby but they noticed that he was in closer proximity to them than he had been before and that gave them hope.

"Manwë will be visiting soon," Ulmo then said to Námo with a smile. "I believe he, you and Atar are going to have a talk."

Námo grimaced, but it wasn’t with fear, and they all ‘heard’ him muttering imprecations against their Elder Brother and Atar and started laughing good-naturedly.

"Now, Námo," Irmo chided his brother with a smile, "is that any way to talk about Atar?"

Now Námo cringed, looking chagrined, and they laughed again. Ulmo and Aulë exchanged looks, remembering when Námo had first come into Being. They found it amusing to see him acting that young again.

"Well, while we’re waiting for Manwë to make an appearance," Aulë said after the laughter had died down, "what should we do in the meantime?"

"I want to double-check the perimeter..." Ulmo began but Námo interrupted him, giving them all a teasing grin.

"I’ve got a better idea," he said.

"And that would be what exactly?" Ulmo asked suspiciously, half anticipating what the answer was likely to be.

For a moment Námo did not respond, then with a yell, he reached over and grabbed Irmo and threw him into a nearby star. "Catch me!" he cried and then was gone.

The others looked at each other for a moment and then grinned in resignation as they heard Irmo screaming from inside the star. "You can run, brother, but you can’t hide!"

Námo’s laughter echoed through the cosmos and it was joyous. "Well, let’s go find him," Ulmo said. "You know we can’t get any work done when Námo wants to play."

They all laughed at that just as Irmo emerged from the star looking affronted. "I’ll track him," Oromë volunteered. "Come, Irmo," he motioned for his friend to join him, "we’ll hunt him together."

"And when we catch up with him," Irmo said darkly, "he’s going to wish he’d never been created."

*In your dreams, brother!* they heard Námo bespeak them. More laughter, this time taunting, followed.

The four Ayanumuz exchanged amused glances and with a single thought went after their charge unaware that the object of their hunt was hiding in the same star he’d thrown Irmo in, snickering softly.

****

Námo suddenly dropped in the middle of their merry chase and fell asleep, much to the others’ mingled concern and amusement. They felt Atar’s own amusement as he assured them that all was well. Irmo elected to stay by Námo this time and the others removed themselves from the general vicinity so as not to disturb their slumbering brother.

Thus, it was that when Námo finally awoke, and this time he woke where he had fallen asleep, he saw Irmo sitting on a nearby rock. They were on a small planet orbiting a yellow-orange star. It had a breathable atmosphere, but little else to commend itself to anyone. Námo, himself, was lying in a bed of rust-red sand that was as fine as dust. It felt warm in the sun and he reveled in the feel of it against his hröa, for he had again incarnated while sleeping.

Irmo watched his brother with interest as Námo lay there, slowly waking up. He was pleased that the signs of torture were mostly faded from his brother’s hröa. He smiled as he observed that Námo seemingly was mesmerized by the sand on which he lay, running his hands through the grains and shifting his hröa about, as if experimenting with the sensations his motions engendered. He even heard his brother humming softly in obvious contentment.

"Did you sleep well, brother?" he finally asked and Námo looked up with a smile and nodded.

"Well enough," he said as he finally sat up and looked about, automatically checking the spatiotemporal coordinates to see how long he’d slept. He was surprised that he had not slept all that long. "I guess I’m getting better," he opined, though the statement was delivered with some hesitancy and, perhaps, even regret.

"Don’t you want to get better?" Irmo asked.

Námo gave him a startled look. "Of course!" he exclaimed, then looked doubtful. "I mean... I guess."

"What are you afraid of, Námo?" his younger brother asked gently, hoping the question would not offend him.

Námo shrugged. "I don’t know... perhaps I just don’t want to go back. I like it here."

"But this isn’t your home, child."

The two brothers looked up to see Manwë standing there smiling at them. Námo grimaced, looking a little defiant.

"Why not?" he demanded. "There’s nothing back there for me, except Melkor waiting for his chance to take me again. At least here he can’t find me or... or touch me."

For a long moment the other two Ayanumuz did not move. Irmo was grieved at the vehemence of Námo’s tone and Manwë was grieved at the need to destroy the younger Ayanuz’s sense of security.

"There’s Vairë," he finally said in a soft tone and was pleased to see Námo’s defiance checked. "And there are your Máyar," he continued. "They grieve for you and only want you back to lead them again."

"Th-they do?" Námo asked, as if the thought of anyone wanting him had never occurred to him. Another memory clicked inside him and he grimaced. "I don’t know why," he said. "They’ll be better off serving someone else, someone who isn’t so... so.... weak," he ended on a lame note, not knowing what other word to call himself. He was weak, he knew that, weak and stupid and useless and....

"Nay, child," Manwë said gravely. "Thou art not weak save in thine own imaginings. Thy Máyar have need of thee and will accept no other as their Lord."

Námo did not look convinced and Manwë resisted a sigh. "Come," he said more gently. "I promised you and I and Atar would talk. Let us go somewhere more private, shall we?"

Námo sighed and nodded reluctantly. "I still don’t want to leave here," he retorted somewhat petulantly. "I like it here. No one can touch me here." That last was said somewhat wistfully, as if he almost regretted it, but only just. He gave Manwë a defiant glare. "No one can make me go back."

Manwë nodded. "No, child. No one can make you do anything you do not wish to do, not even Atar."

That thought seemed to mollify him somewhat and he almost smiled at the thought, allowing Manwë to send him the coordinates for where his elder brother wished to go for their "talk", leaving Irmo alone. Ulmo, Aulë and Oromë were by his side with a single thought, though, offering him what comfort they could by their presence and their obvious concern for both brothers.

Irmo sighed, looking somewhat distraught. "What if he never wants to leave?" he asked them.

Ulmo shook his head. "Atar won’t allow him that luxury. He may not force Námo to return but he will perhaps make returning seem more desirable than staying."

The others gave him a quizzical look, but Ulmo merely smiled, unwilling to say anything further.

****

Manwë purposely led Námo to the planet where the Máhanumaz met for their discussions. He wanted to see if Námo would make any connections. He had been concerned when he realized that the younger Ayanuz had blocked out most of his memories of who he was. The thought of Námo willfully forgetting himself disturbed him on a deep level without understanding why.

*He needs to forget all so he can accept all.* Atar’s thought brushed against his mind, leaving a sense of peace behind.

"Do you recognize this place, Námo?" Manwë asked as they settled themselves in the amphitheater where they were wont to meet. It seemed strange to him to be here, knowing that this place was not real.

*But it is, Child,* came Atar’s amused words. *It’s very real, but the reality is different from what thou hast in Eä proper.*

"It’s where some of us meet," Námo answered, somewhat disinterestedly.

"Yes," Manwë agreed. "It is where we Máhanumaz meet."

Námo merely shrugged, still feeling defiant. Manwë smiled at him gently. "They miss you, you know, your brothers and sisters. Do you miss them?"

Námo nodded reluctantly. "Sometimes."

*Tell us thy thoughts, child,* they both heard Atar say and Námo sighed, looking less defiant and more uncertain.

"If I go back... what will I do there?"

Manwë wasn’t sure how to answer that and silently appealed to Atar for help, but Atar was being annoyingly unresponsive to his pleas. He sighed, realizing that it was up to him to find a way. "Do you remember what you did before?"

Námo shook his head. "Was it important?" he asked hesitantly.

Now Manwë smiled. "Yes, Námo. It was very important. You helped to keep Chaos in its proper sphere rather than allowing it to run rampant. You are able to bring Harmony out of Chaos. No one else can do that as well as you."

"Truly?" Námo now appeared intrigued.

"Truly."

The younger Ayanuz thought about that for a time. "There’s no sense of Chaos in this dimension," he finally said.

"I know," Manwë said in agreement. "That is why I think you should return to Eä with us. Your talents are being wasted here where all is latent promise rather than operative actuality."

*Thine elder brother is correct, best beloved,* Atar then said gently. *Thou'rt needed in Eä. Soon Artháraphelun will rise and thy presence will be required. Thou'rt the key.*

"Key?" Námo asked, perplexed. "Key to what?"

"The key to our success," Manwë replied, though he did not elaborate. He had the feeling that whatever memories Námo had blocked, he had to come to them himself. Giving him the information would do no good. He felt Atar’s smile of approval and reveled in the feeling of warmth and love that flowed from the very Source of his existence.

"But what...."

"Nay, child," Manwë said, speaking more formally and even more sternly than before, "if thou wouldst know what we mean, thou must journey with us back to Eä. The answers lie there, not here."

For a long moment Námo did not respond, and Manwë noticed that the younger Ayanuz, though not in hröa, was actually trembling. He longed to reach out and take Námo into his embrace but feared to move, not wishing to cause him any more distress. Atar, however, had other ideas.

*Take him into thine embrace, my son,* Atar said and as gently and as lovingly as he spoke there was still a sense of command to those words that Manwë dared not disobey.

Without thinking about it further, he slowly reached out, ready to see Námo flee. The younger Ayanuz, however, merely stood there, and when Manwë had him fully in his embrace, Námo did not struggle but allowed himself to collapse into Manwë’s embrace fully and wept, though his tears were droplets of pale blue light rather than water.

"Hush now, best beloved," Manwë crooned. "All is well. Do not be afraid."

"But I am," Námo whispered. "I’m very afraid and I don’t know why."

"Your memories...."

"I remember how I came to be here, what... what Melkor did...and I know that if I go back all will seek to keep me safe, but even so, when I think of returning, I am overwhelmed with fear and I don’t know why." He continued to weep even as Manwë continued holding him, at a loss as to how to respond to Námo’s words.

"Are you afraid that others will shun you?"

Námo stepped slightly out of Manwë’s embrace, his aura dim. "Do they not anyway? I remember little of my life before... before Melkor... but I remember that I was the very least of you."

"Why do you say that?" Manwë asked, puzzled.

"Few of the Máyar have pledged themselves to me. Even Vairë has more Máyar in her train than I. I do not know why those who have sworn themselves to me even bothered. They would do better to give their oaths to Irmo or Oromë, instead."

He stopped and Manwë forbore to speak, sensing that there was more that Námo wanted to say. Finally, the younger Ayanuz whispered, almost in a confessional manner, "I used to think that perhaps some... some of the other Máyar would see how... how worthy I was and would want to... to switch allegiance and take oath to me."

Manwë resisted a sigh, suddenly realizing just how young Námo was at this point, how young he was compared to himself or Varda. He sent a swift thought to his beloved spouse and shared the information with her. He could sense her exasperation, concern and sorrow for this one who stood before Manwë so forlornly.

"Yet, those who have sworn themselves to you are fiercely loyal to you," he finally said with as much conviction as he could muster, hoping his words would convince Námo of the truth of them. "I have never seen such loyalty from any of the Máyar as I have seen exhibited amongst your People. And I have seen how Vairë’s People came to you, not to Varda or Irmo or even Oromë, but to you to offer their oaths until such time as Vairë returned to them. Any of the Ayanumuz would have gladly taken them under their protection, but they came to you. Does that not tell you anything?"

"Only that their trust was misplaced," Námo said forlornly.

Now Manwë was beginning to feel exasperated himself. "Tush," he exclaimed. "That is just plain silly and such self-pity is unbecoming of one of the Máhanumaz. I know that what happened has... eroded your self-image and self-confidence, but I assure you that none think the less of you. If anything, you’re something of a hero in the eyes of many of the Máyar."

Námo gave Manwë a disbelieving look. "Whatever for?"

Manwë chuckled. "Can you not guess, child?" he asked with amusement. "You rescued Vairë and Therindë and offered yourself to Melkor as a sacrifice for the sake of the others."

The future Doomsman of Arda stood there rooted in shock. "They think what!? Sacrifice? I didn’t sacrifice anything, I was captured, pure and simple. If I hadn’t been so stupid as to incarnate when I did I would have won free." Now his expression was one of disgust. "Sacrifice! I’ll ‘sacrifice’ them," he said darkly and Manwë could not help but laugh.

"Then perhaps you should return to set the record straight," he suggested blandly. "The rest of us have had little luck in convincing them otherwise."

Námo almost agreed, but then hesitated, his expression uncertain. Divining his reluctance, Manwë leaned forward and took the younger Ayanuz into his embrace once again, pleased that Námo allowed him that privilege. "You can always return here if it gets too much for you," he stated softly. "If you do not remember how you crossed the dimensional fields..."

"I remember," Námo protested. "Atar showed me the way."

"Then, wilt thou return to Eä with us?" Manwë asked more formally. "Wilt thou take up thine office once again as Lord of Harmony and Right Order... and my vice-gerent?"

Námo gave Manwë a measured look. "I failed in my duty to you..."

"Nay, child," Manwë declared. "You did what you should have and I am proud of you. We all are."

For a long period neither spoke. Manwë was vaguely aware of Atar hovering over the two of them, loving them and content with whatever decision this child of his would make, yea or nay. Finally, Námo stepped back from Manwë’s embrace again and straightened, his aura going a deep violet with resolve. It was tinged with a shade of red that Manwë suspected was indicative of fear, a fear the younger Ayanuz struggled to keep under control.

"Yea, Lord," Námo intoned. "I will go with thee back into Eä."

Manwë felt a sense of relief wash over him, not realizing until then, how much he feared the answer. Then Námo’s aura darkened more toward the red and Manwë held an imaginary breath.

"D-do we have to go back im-immediately?" Námo asked hesitantly.

Manwë smiled, his steady blue aura brightening. "Nay, child. We may linger yet a little longer. Aulë and Ulmo are too enamored of this place to leave quite yet."

Námo actually snickered. "You mean, you’re going to have to drag them back to Eä." Then he gave his elder brother a wicked look. "Can I help?"

At that Manwë and Atar both laughed and soon Námo joined them and the sound of it, rich and deep and full of bells, was as a balm to Manwë’s fëa.