✧˖° Day 5: Námo & Navëquen (OC) (plus little onesided crush on Navë's part) | Relationship with the Children ✧˖° Synopsis: After another devastating battle in Middle-earth, Námo comes to the battlefield to summon the spirits of the slain before Melkor can. ✧˖° Warnings: Corpses, death, unpleasant scenery (but not graphic) ✧˖° Oneshot
"You must not speak of this to anyone."
Navëquen had accepted his lord's order without question. It wasn't the first time his silence on delicate matters was required, and it would most certainly not be the last; he needed neither prophecy nor foresight to be sure of it.
What was odd this time was that Námo not only led him out of Mandos, but also pulled him along in spirit as he teleported far away, to a place Navëquen had never seen.
It was nowhere in Valinor, that was for certain. Neither grass nor trees were in sight, the very earth was burned and blackened and thousands of corpses lay still around them, bloody and maimed, many contorted in agony and despair, now silenced forever. Only the distant howling of wind remained.
"Where are we, my lord?" Navëquen whispered.
"A battle took place here not too long ago," Námo said quietly. "Yet I sense that many fëar still linger, fëar that I have not received and who may not have heard my call."
"So you wish to... retrieve them yourself? Do you not think it might be dangerous for you to come all the way out here?" The thought of his lord being threatened by those who had caused such carnage made Navëquen bristle, getting ready to reach for his sword. No matter what foes might await them, he would —
"I am a Vala, of the Aratar no less. No one and nothing in this world can slay me, and I go where I will." Námo raised one hand to bid him stand still. "Use your blade to defend yourself, though there will be no need."
He reached for the ornate clasp holding his long, heavy cloak in place.
"I know I must not be seen by the Dark One. And I know some fëar will forever elude me either out of their own free will or because he got to them first. But I will not surrender thousands of them, not so easily."
"You will summon them? Here and now?"
"That I shall."
His tone made it clear that his decision was final. Bowing his head dutifully, even as worry continued to make his skin prickle uncomfortably, Navëquen proceeded to move behind him and reverently pulled the cloak from his lord's shoulders. While he folded it, Námo reached for the sash holding his outer robe in place, then waited for his attendant to remove it as well.
Despite his best efforts to ignore his feelings, Navëquen felt his cheeks growing warm and suspected that his usually pale, almost colourless skin had assumed a dim shade of pink. It wasn't unusual for him to assist his lord in this manner, but rare to see him in such a state of undress.
Only the inner robes remained now, thin and slightly translucent, allowing glimpses of lily-white skin underneath ink-black fabric. Námo placed his palms together and closed his eyes to focus, mumbling a few words of power under his breath.
"It is as I thought," he said, "they are scattered, lost and afraid. I must gather them here before we can guide them home."
"Yes, my lord." Navëquen knew what to do. He would be holding on to what his lord had discarded, watch over him as he performed a spell of summoning for the slain and tend to his every need as it arose.
Hopefully the One won't choose a time like this to bestow a prophecy on top of it, he thought sardonically, remembering the times he had watched Námo collapse under the weight of a sudden vision and taken care of him.
It was not as though Navëquen minded such a task, he was always glad to be in his lord's proximity; however, it would be rather unsafe to find himself in enemy territory with an unconscious Vala and only his own strength to defend against the forces of darkness, if they were spotted.
Námo began to sing. It was pure song rather than any sort of spoken language, understood by each and every living thing, a wistful melody against the howling wind. Slowly, he began moving his arms, drawing wide circles, stretching and twisting his fána. His feet appeared to barely touch the ground whenever he took a step, his sandals spotless and his skin unmarred by charred wood and shards of broken weapons strewn all over the ground.
Wide sleeves fell back when Námo rose to his full height and appeared to reach for the sky, allowing both himself and those who heard him in the Unseen Realm to pause and behold the regal poise of his chosen form. It was in perfect sync with his mighty ëala, moving, bending and swaying in ways that should be impossible when he began to dance alongside his song, now swift and full of energy.
Oh, how beautiful he was. And how lucky Navëquen was to be the one to witness such a sight, a rare display of power from the eldest Fëantur.
Weightless, Námo twisted, turned and twirled around. His voice filled the air, lonely where normally a choir of Maiar would sing alongside him, now reduced to the gentle hum of Navëquen's quiet notes. Yet even so, the song felt all-encompassing, as if the very spirit of Arda was responding to one of its masters.
Within the Seen, there was only the wind, but within the Unseen, a different kind of storm was brewing. Houseless fëar, first appearing shyly like flickering candles, then flocking to Námo like a herd of spirits, some reaching for him, others crying out. Navëquen had to focus on his fána standing firmly on the ground to avoid being swept away, a task made infinitely more difficult by the sheer force with which he was drawn to the Vala, just as the fëar were.
With one final note, Námo once again reached for the sky, then brought his hands together and let himself fall to his knees, completing the spell. He remained motionless for a while, letting a flood of spiritual power wash over him until every single fëa he could sense had appeared.
"Be not afraid," he said quietly. "I have come to take you home."
Navëquen stepped closer, robes and cloak in hand. "My lord, your–"
"Later."
And with that, Námo's fána vanished into thin air, leaving his remaining clothes to be picked up by Navëquen.
Within the Unseen Realm, his ëala was greater and brighter than before, now fully present, and the fëar eagerly swarmed him, some even attaching themselves to him or hiding within the hair and sleeves of his spiritual form, appearing to them as a great and magnificent lord.
Thus Navëquen trailed behind as Námo guided his new charges across the sea to rest from the turmoils of life. Indeed, it would be best if no one knew that the Judge of the Valar had come to the battlefields of Middle-earth in person to take back the fëar that the Dark One had undoubtedly planned to harvest for his own nefarious purposes, stealing them away from right under his nose.
Navëquen shook his head. Námo had always endeavoured to teach him patience, neutrality, impartiality and restraint, yet surely not even the One could blame him for possessing a heart and emotions that were sometimes stronger than the divine law that guided his hand.
Thanks for reading! ♡
taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose
@elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @singleteapot
@stormchaser819 @urwendii @wandererindreams @ainurweek
