#manwë/námo

[gauntletgirlie]

I’m bored so it’s time for another Silmarillion Poll! Since I can’t fit them all on one poll, I’m splitting it into males and females. Female poll is here.

I’ve not included Melkor as I want to see who other than him is liked best. Plus, he was no more counted amongst the Valar so his inclusion is ambiguous anyway!

[whosthatsilmcharacter]

(All art used with EXPRESS permission from the artist)

[mindflayers-and-silmarils]

I love Melkor but like. Man, it must've been like working with that one annoying kid in class. Like yeah he's cool and he might've had some good ideas, but dude just ruined the entire project,,,,

[nyarnamaitar]

thinking about interpersonal relationships between the valar... which valar are close? which valar are less so? i think that, overall, the valar are all very dear to one another. they're only fourteen after all and they've gone through so much together, so there aren't any major distances, rifts or resentments between any of them. i mean, if you spend eternity together, you have plenty of time to communicate, don't you think? also, i generally hc that the valar function more like a hive mind. they live symbiotically, constantly sharing ideas and impressions with one another, even across large distances (they don't need to be physically together to talk). but still, particular friendships did develop and some valar are more intimate than others. i'll start with manwë, varda, aulë, yavanna, vána, námo, and vairë; i'll try to finish irmo, estë, oromë, tulkas, and nessa some time in the upcoming days.

manwë gets along with everyone swimmingly, not just because he's naturally sweet and charming, but also because he puts in a lot of effort to be there for each of his kinsmen. his closest bonds are with varda, ulmo, and nienna, but he is also often found in the company of aulë, yavanna, and námo.

varda is kind and warm, but less sociable than her husband. she spends most of her time with manwë, but is also close with nienna (the stars are particularly bright in the night sky above nienna's tower) and ulmo (it took some time for ulmo to open up to her, but eventually he did, seeing how much she, like him, loved manwë).

aulë is a very social being and, like manwë, entertains good relations with all his fellow valar. beside his wife, he is particularly fond of manwë (aulë's always felt an emotional affinity with his king, a feeling that only deepened once they both lost people they loved to the darkness), tulkas (they enjoy a good wrestling session together), nessa (aulë loves to dance, even though he's no good at it), and vairë (craftspeople recognise each other, don't they).

yavanna and vána are the closest of sisters and can often be found in each other's company. additionally, yavanna is also in the habit of seeking out her king and queen, especially when her heart is troubled. yavanna also consistently invites tulkas and nessa to her and her husband's parties (she adores seeing her dear smith trip over his own feet on the dancefloor). beside her sister, vána is close to estë and irmo. as the incarnation of the passing of seasons and the relentless challenge of starting over again and again ("April is the cruellest month, breeding / Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing / Memory and desire, stirring / Dull roots with spring rain..."), vána, too, gets tired sometimes. in those moments, nothing makes her feel as good as a visit to lórien.

ulmo's dearest friend has always been and will always be manwë. he enjoys his solitary existence in the deep sea, but if there's one thing -- or to be specific, one person -- that draws him back to the land of his kinsmen time and time again, it's manwë. ulmo also cherishes his friendship with varda, a bond that gradually developed over the long ages of arda.

námo and vairë generally keep to themselves, finding comfort in each other, but they do try make time for their fellow valar. námo loves his siblings, irmo and nienna, deeply. if he's not in mandos (which is rare enough), chances are high he's in lórien, napping alongside irmo, or in nienna's tower, watching the eternal waves of ekkaia until they disappear beyond the horizon. as judge of the valar, námo also has regular contact with manwë and a strong friendship has grown between them, built on mutual trust and understanding. if námo is in need of a little bit more estel, he goes to manwë. as for vairë, she loves to visit aulë's halls and marvel at the beautiful things taking shape in the smith's talented hands. sometimes, she and aulë sit together in one of his workshops, she working on her embroidery, he chipping away at a wood block or drawing up a design for an another elaborate project of his, the contentment that comes with creation a living, breathing note of song between them.

[eri-pl]

Also Namo and Manwë — 1 & 5 if you want to.

1 When (how?) they became friends

I would be surprised if you chose this question without thinking about "they both know The Thing", and yes, I imagine this is a big factor making their friendship closer—

OK, an explanation to everyone else who does not follow our conversations: Manwë and Námo both know what happens to Men after they die (more precisely than "they leave Ea") I don't know where it's written, probably in Valaquenta? The other Valar don't know it and it's a Secret. (not necessarily from a reader that has at least a vague knowledge of the author's worldview… but from the other Valar etc)

—But also I assume that the proper Valar are friendly to each other in general, only the closeness of this friendship differs. And they're both introverts (or at least: I see Manwë as more of an introvert and not a fan of being important, and Námo is by necessity not very talkative). Also, Manwë is the most good of the Valar, and Námo is the only one I see as morally fixed (because of his relationship to time & knowledge)—

OK, an explanation to everyone else who does not follow our conversations: we discussed about whether the Valar get "fixed" in being good/bad at some point, or at least some of them, and my opinion is I don't like it generally, but makes sense for Námo.

—so they are the most, how to phrase it… well ok, and Varda too. Funnily, I don't see her spending much time with Námo. I wanted to say "their vibes don't match", but that's not really true. I'm sure they were/will be close outside, but the vibe that connects them both is a bit too much for Ea. No, I don't have anything concrete in mind this time, just… they both are in a way very fundamental.

Anyway Manwë and Námo are the two most good in the abstract sense (as opposed to Ulmo, who does a lot of things and I appreciate him, but I think he is often overrated… Ulmo is kinda like the Martha of the Valar if you get my mental image.)

Another explanation needed… I don't know how to explain it quickly, from the Bible, she's got this personality trait... like multitasking but that's not really it? I suppose someone else can explain it better.

And yes, of course when you spend a lot of time with someone contemplating (behold: I did not see "fanboying"! I'm learning the proper tone!) something you can't share with others, you would get close.

5. A scene of them I wish we had

I generally wish we had a scene of them two talking to each other one-on-one. More scenes with the Valar just having interactions would be nice. I know there are some in Morgoth's Ring but probably not with those two.

I don't have a precise scene in mind, not canon-compliant. I just realized I need to draw them at some point, and it does have a lot of background in my head but… I can't think of any particular scene I wish was in the books. Just: more of them.

More asks welcome!

[cilil]

Meeting (disguised) Eru in a cafe - Ainur react

Eru: My son - Melkor: (screaming internally) Sorry, I don't know you Eru: Yes, you do. Melkor: No and my husband says I'm not allowed to talk to strangers anymore (runs) ──────────── Eru: Mairon. Mairon: (rolls eyes) Ugh, not you again. I haven't even done anything - Eru: So you haven't told you husband to run away from his beloved father? Mairon: No. He's a big Vala who can make decisions on his own. ──────────── Eru: My son <3 Manwë: Father! Eru: Come give your father a hug, will you Manwë: (snuggles) ──────────── Eru: Námo? Námo: ... Eru: ...well, you have kept your silence, haven't you? Námo: ...yes. Eru: Good (pats his head) ──────────── Eru: Yavanna, dear - Yavanna: Oh good thing you're here, Father, come and see what Aulë did the other week! ──────────── Eru: Aulë, your wife says - Aulë: I swear I did nothing wrong

[furious-haste-of-malice]

❝ I want you, Námo. I have wanted you for a while. ❞

⊱ Prompt: Blackmail, obsession ⊱ Pairing: Manwë x Námo ⊱ Synopsis: After Námo disobeys an order from his king, Manwë forces him to make it up to him. ⊱ Warnings: Creepy Manwë, power dynamics, sexual content, non-con, the prompt in itself

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Another one for @tolkienpinupcalendar's Dead Dove December and yes, I will be working on these for quite a while longer. Nevertheless: Enjoy!

"Please forgive me, my king." 

Námo was kneeling in the chambers of his lord, head bowed in dutiful penitence. He was as aware as the Vala in front of him that his refusal to speak when he was bidden was a grievous offence to the Elder King's authority, even though he believed it had been necessary to adhere to the divine ordinance he had been given at the beginning of his existence – to never reveal more than what was needed. 

Nevertheless, his being was bound to lawfulness, and he would accept punishment if his lord and his father deemed it necessary. 

Manwë looked as holy and glorious as ever, even seated on his bed instead of his throne. His usual smile had faded, replaced by a sorrowful mien, and the deep sigh that fell from his lips sent a small breeze through the air surrounding them. 

"Worry not, dear Námo. I shall surely forgive you, but I am afraid you will need to make it up to me." 

Despite the perfectly serene and innocent tone, Námo felt a sense of unease, sending shivers down his spine. 

"Anything that is within my power, my king," he said carefully. 

"Very well. Rise." Manwë held out his hand, though it was a gesture of silent command instead of an invitation to take it. 

Námo did as he had been told. Perhaps his obedience could help him atone for his sin, he thought, but then he was caught off-guard when Manwë rose as well and delivered three swift, decisive strikes, the gleam of silvery talons being his only warning – the first one tore off his veil, the second discarded his hood and the third undid the sash holding his robes in place. 

A small gasp escaped Námo as his form was revealed to the eyes of his lord, and he saw delight blossoming within the depths of his blue eyes. 

"Get on the bed." 

"M-my king –"

"Now." 

There was something rough and firm within Manwë's voice, something that was usually absent, that many thought him incapable of. Námo's fána trembled when he obeyed once more, leaving him exposed and prone in front of a Vala he had always trusted – until now that he saw his eyes glint like those of a raptor spotting prey in the grass. 

"What do you want from me?" he managed to ask, attempting to suppress his fear when Manwë climbed on top of him with such natural ease – 

As if we were lovers...

"Is it not obvious?" Manwë smiled at him, as kind and sweet as he had always done, but the dangerous gleam in his eyes hadn't vanished. "I want you, Námo. I have wanted you for a while."

Too stunned to speak, Námo could only stare at him as he lovingly cupped his cheeks. 

"You are so beautiful," Manwë sighed. "And now you will finally be mine." 

Námo stopped breathing when he was drawn into a kiss so tender it almost made him forget that it was forced, and his own lips remained stiff and unmoving. He still couldn't believe that he was being subjected to a punishment of carnal nature, at the hands of his pure, benevolent king no less. 

Manwë withdrew after a few fruitless attempts, seeming upset. "You don't wish to kiss me?" 

"Please, my king... n-not this..." Námo attempted to plead, but was ignored. 

"If you continue to be disobedient I can no longer be patient with you. Your punishment is whatever I deem fit, and if I want to make you mine and show you where you belong, then this is what shall be done." 

Talons dug into his sides as Manwë forced him to turn around and slipped his robes off his shoulders, tearing any remaining clothes to shreds. Námo was left lying on his stomach, held down by a Vala greater than himself. A still-clothed groin was pressed against his exposed backside, and he felt flesh hardening against him. 

"Since you have cheated me out of a prophecy, I hope you at least haven't cheated me out of being your first," Manwë whispered in his ear. 

Námo remained silent. He didn't wish to recount the ways in which his wife had made love to him and how they pleasured each other, and his mind struggled to comprehend the depths of the twisted lust his lord had suddenly revealed. How long had he desired him? Why did he believe he had a right to claim him? 

Yet there was no time to ask himself such questions when two hands spread his legs first and then his cheeks, and he heard the sound of a bottle being uncorked, followed by the scent of vanilla and the sensation of liquid being poured onto his skin. 

He prayed that those talons wouldn't be forced inside him, even if that meant he would be taken without further preparation; it was going to hurt, but repairing his flesh would be easier this way. 

It was only then that Námo briefly considered fighting back, yet any spark of resistance was swiftly drowned out by the knowledge that his king was mightier than he, greater in power and stature. Something inside him had given up before the thought had even crossed his mind; perhaps he already knew that it was going to happen regardless. 

Námo buried his head in the nearest pillow when he heard the rustling of fabric and attempted to muffle his cries of pain as Manwë forced himself inside. He had to will his fána to relax and open up, even as it felt like he was betraying himself and his objective of enduring this violation with as much dignity as he could. 

"You feel so good." 

"You are so beautiful." 

"You sound lovely when you cry and moan for me." 

Manwë whispered sweet nothings in his ear while taking him, but Námo refused to break his self-imposed silence. This was neither love nor pleasure, it was punishment just as his lord had said, and he would not think of it otherwise for the sake of his own sanity. He received no touch and no true affection, only the empty words of one whose mind had been tainted by greed and obsession. 

"Say my name." 

Manwë's command seemed to permeate the very air Námo was breathing, but he refused; he did not desire this, and he would not pretend to. 

Taloned fingers closed around his neck. "I commanded you to say my name."

He remained silent. Manwë's grip tightened, making it nigh impossible to breathe, and despite knowing that he couldn't be slain, panic flooded his fána – as well as the realisation that his torment might only continue if he kept refusing. 

Hesitant and in a broken voice, Námo at last obeyed his lord's command. 

"M-man... wë..." 

The whisper of his name and the choked noises he made sent a shudder of pleasure through Manwë's entire fána, and he spilled his seed inside his unwilling lover, withdrawing only after every last drop had left him. 

Námo felt the need to curl up on his side, make himself small and disappear, but before he could move he was turned around to lie on his back once again. 

Manwë looked down at him with a perfectly angelic smile, as if nothing had happened, and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead. 

"You are forgiven." 

Thanks for reading! ♡

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Poll for the ladies coming right up!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Day 5: Free of Evil | Opposition

New day, new drabble...

Words: 100

Characters: Manwë & Námo

Warnings: Námo has a hard life

Námo’s remonstrances melted like wax, caroming off the impenetrable walls of Manwë’s incomprehension, unheeded.

“There shall be no more strife,” the Elder King declared confidently. “The time of oppression and opposition is at an end!”

Disheartened, the Judge understood once more that knowing what would come to pass didn’t enable him to change the course of destiny.

All he could do was scream at the unhearing and point out inevitable disasters to the blind.

“He is my brother,” Manwë rebelled against Námo’s tangible wariness.

“So he is,” Námo agreed softly. “I’ll release him, and we shall see what he’ll become.”

@manweweek

Lots of love from me!

-> Masterlist

[edensrose]

╰₊ 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝑰'𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕◞ ₊˚:

. ˚◞♡ 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕◞ ₊˚﹕ only writing for the valar & maiar. lots of oc content will be included. best written characters include manwë, námo, irmo and tilion. be sure to check out my ainur characterisations to understand how I interpret them.

. ˚◞♡ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 & 𝒂𝒖𝒔 ◞ ₊˚﹕

꒰ events﹕valentine kisses ꒷꒦ 2k vamp!ainur au ꒷꒦꒷ athelas drabbles ꒷꒦꒷ kinktober 2022 ꒱

꒰ aus﹕incubi!valar ꒷꒦ merc!ainur ꒷꒦꒷ vamp!ainur ꒱

. ˚◞♡ 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒓 ◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ manwë◞ 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒎 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ námo◞ 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒘𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒆 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ calamorë◞ 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ irmo◞ 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒖𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ melkor◞ 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ oromë◞ 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝒈𝒖𝒏 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

. ˚◞♡ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒂𝒓 ◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ eönwë◞ 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒂𝒃𝒚 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ tilion◞ 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ ossë◞ 𝒊𝒇 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ mairon◞ 𝒊𝒕 𝒊𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝒇𝒖𝒏 ꒱ ₊˚⊹

[gauntletgirlie]

Off the back of this poll and this poll, in which Nienna and Ulmo won out as favourites amongst the Valar, my next question is…

Again, I’ve not included Melkor for the same reasons as last time.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Stranger in a new land

Day 7 for @manweweek

Freeform

Characters: Vampire! Manwë, Námo, Irmo

Time of story 19th Century London, England

Themes: Meet cute | Soft | Fluff | Vampire! AU

Warnings: Irmo nearly gets into an accident (blink and you might miss it)

Word count: 900+ words

Summary: Manwë makes new acquaintances moving to a new city in a new country

This is also available on AO3

London was a hive of activity, even while it was caught in the grips of a chilly autumn. Manwë walked about this bustling city, amazed by the sheer throng of people hurrying past him like a fast-moving river flowing around a boulder: businessmen in their fine suits, mothers and nannies with children firmly in hand, ladies in splendid dresses and thick cloaks and elaborate hats promenading with their suitors and chaperones. The sound of people talking and laughing, along with the din the many carriages and horses plying London's streets created, added to the chaotic cacophony filling the air. Manwë stayed out of other people's way, watching, listening, and discreetly observing. He was a stranger here, having only just arrived in the country after he had acquired a home beyond the outskirts of the city for himself.

“Good evening.” He smiled and doffed his hat respectfully at a young lady who dared to look at him appreciatively. She giggled and looked away before turning to whisper something to a friend who walked out of the nearby shop, her bags full of yarn and thread and lace and bright new ribbons. Manwë continued walking, having little interest in looking over his shoulder. The ladies were beautiful, to be sure, but neither of them caught his eye. Not in that way.

And I could not make myself known to them even if I desired to, he lamented, for I could not risk having the true nature of who I am being discovered.

Manwë was a vampire. He was turned by another while he lay at death’s door. It was what he wanted—to be spared the call of the angel of death—and it was granted to him willingly as an act of gratitude. He never truly regretted his choice, save for those fleeting moments when he came across friends talking and laughing or when he came across companions lost in love. Until now, he did not allow himself the joys of such things, for his companions would age while he remained unblemished, and mortals feared what he and others like him stood for.

We are death and sin made flesh. We are all that they think is unnatural and wrong. Manwë closed his eyes to the cold wind that swept through his silver hair, breathing in the scents of new apples, freshly baked bread and cake, and hot, roasted chestnuts that drifted with it. If he had been mortal, Manwë thought with a smile, his stomach would have rumbled fiercely.

“Irmo! Irmo, get back here!” Manwë's delight in what greeted his senses disappeared when a young man cried—exasperated—as he chased his brother around onlookers who quickly moved out of his way. “Irmo Lórien Fëanturi! Stop running this instant!”

“No!” Irmo returned gleefully, evading his older brother’s repeated attempts to catch him. He ran and ran, running as fast as his little legs could take him, flashing cheeky, dimpled grins at anyone who passed him by, and hooting with wild joy. It was all a game to him, and he enjoyed it immensely. He did not stop, not even when others tried to reach out in their vain attempts to catch him on behalf of his much-put-upon brother. Manwë had also seen the little boy racing toward him. He made haste to swoop down and scoop the child into his arms before he could run around him and onto the path of an oncoming carriage.

“And who do you belong to, young master?” Manwë said, dipping gracefully to his knees and smiling at the little boy who struggled in his grasp.

“He belongs to me. Well, our family, that is.” Námo reached them, nearly out of breath from the merry chase Irmo subjected him to. “Thank you, truly, for stopping him before he hurt himself. And my humblest apologies, sir, for him getting in your way.”

“It was no trouble. No trouble at all.” Manwë straightened himself after Irmo was placed into his brother’s care. Then he introduced himself. “I am Lord Amân Mānawenūz, of Taniquetil. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The name he gave was an old one, and it had once belonged to a distant uncle of little consequence. No one had heard of that name since that uncle perished nearly six hundred years ago, and Manwë only made use of it on those rare occasions when he had to introduce himself.

"Námo Fëanturi,” Námo said, extending his hand. When Manwë stood there and looked at it, puzzled, he let it fall to his side. He must not know our ways, he thought to himself. “And this bundle of never-ending delight is my brother, Irmo.”

Irmo squirmed in his older brother’s other arm, but he rewarded the one who saved him with another cheeky grin. Manwë could not help but smile at them both.

“I am pleased I was able to be of assistance to you," he said.

“We were heading toward that teahouse over there to meet our sister," returned Námo. "You are more than welcome to join us, if you like, Lord Mānawenūz.”

Manwë wanted to do nothing more than refuse the invitation. He opened his mouth to speak, to politely say no. Then he stopped himself from doing so. What he was offered was an invitation to have tea with people he would never see again, not an invitation to dine with a lover. No harm would come out of accepting such a request, so long as he was careful not to give too much of himself away. And, he told himself, what better way to learn about this new city than by talking to those who actually lived within it? He took a moment to decide before saying, “Yes. I would be honored to join you and your family."

Little did he know how much his life would change after that day.

[nyarnamaitar]

Manwë is the pretty boy of the Valar

[cilil]

Hi! If you're taking suggestions for your winter prompts, I would love to see something about Námo and Manwë with "Ugly sweaters"

❅ Prompt: Ugly Sweaters | Manwë & Námo ❅ Synopsis: When Manwë visits Námo to deliver a gift, he is quite taken with the Judge's new garments. ❅ Warnings: / ❅ Triple drabble ❅ AO3

» AN: Of course! This was a fun one! Also please have a look at the wonderful art @auurea made for this one - Námo is SLAYING.

When Manwë had made his way to the Halls of Mandos to deliver his gift to the Master of Fate, he had expected the possibility of finding him in a rather despondent mood; what he had not expected, however, were the rather unique garments he was currently wearing. 

"That is a... lovely... uh–" 

"Sweater." 

"–sweater you have there, Námo," Manwë smiled, pointing at the piece in question. 

The sweater was light pink with red and green patterns and white script stating "Kiss the Judge", a splash of colour worn over black under robes. 

"Thanks," Námo responded flatly, keeping his hands folded without changing either his position or expression. 

"Is there a particular reason for this... fashion choice?" Manwë continued to make conversation. 

"I may or may not have lost a bet with my siblings." 

"Ah." He nodded sagely, though, truth to be told, he had no experience of his own with such lighthearted teasing – his brother's pranks were far too malicious to be comparable. "Anyway, I have a gift for you as well." 

Námo sighed. It seemed as though he was trying to display joy, but was too annoyed to be convincing and knew it as well. "Please just tell me it isn't anything ridiculous." 

Manwë placed the package on his lap, the Fëantur's sour expression not dampening his good mood in the slightest. 

"It is a feather pillow and blanket, to keep you warm and for sweet dreams," he revealed. 

Námo blinked slowly. "And my wife will surely be delighted to select a pillowcase and duvet for me that will most certainly not match this comical outfit for my family's entertainment." 

Manwë smiled and kissed his forehead. "Certainly."

"You have doomed me, Elder King, and I shall remember this," Námo grumbled, but thankfully his voice lacked any actual malice. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot @wandererindreams