#manwe x namo

[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! ♡

[cilil]

Hi! For the Summer Stories event, would it be possible to ask for a soft Calamórë drabble for the fireflies prompt?

Thank you! ❤️

Summer Stories

AN: Yes, it is! Here you go~

Prompt: Fireflies | Manwë x Námo Synopsis: Manwë wants to spend some time alone with Námo Warnings: /

"May I ask where we are going, my lord?" 

A small smile ghosts around the corners of Námo's mouth, hidden underneath his veil. His hand rests on top of Manwë's as he's led through the gardens of Lórien, away from Irmo and the other Valar who are enjoying the evening together. 

"To a place where we won't be disturbed," Manwë answers, sapphire eyes gleaming in the twilight. "Your brother recommended a lovely place he thought you might like."

"You are too kind," Námo says, lowering his head in an attempt to hide his bashful expression. It feels like a dream come true – his beloved wishing to be alone with him and spend time together. Wanting his company out of all the Ainur, many of whom are certainly more pleasant to be around. 

Manwë leads him to a small pond away from the main pathways of Lórien, and they sit down on a small bench together, taking a moment to admire their surroundings. The gardens are silent, safe for a few crickets chirping in the distance and the occasional rustling of leaves whenever another warm summer breeze passes through. Specks of light float around the lake – a species of luminescent beetles, Námo recalls – like tiny lanterns, making it feel almost like home, but warmer and friendlier. 

It takes him a few moments to notice that they're still holding hands. 

"Do you like it?" Manwë asks softly, careful not to disturb the peaceful scenery. 

"It is beautiful," Námo responds. 

He wonders if his lack of eloquence is bothering the other Vala, but before he can begin to worry about it Manwë speaks up again. 

"Just like you." 

A simple statement, yet it manages to rob his breath for a moment. To think that someone would see him this way... 

Manwë squeezes his hand and turns towards him. The wind surrounding him at all times feels like it's gently tugging on the Fëantur's veil and caressing his skin underneath. Námo finds himself mirroring the gesture, gazing into those wonderful blue eyes reminiscent of a cloudless sky on a beautiful summer day. 

He doesn't know how long they look at each other like this. It is only when Manwë slowly removes his veil and leans in for a kiss that Námo closes his eyes and welcomes the tender brush of warm lips against his own. 

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[edensrose]

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ day eight : flight

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖   manwë ⠀〳 námo⠀  ❜࿔ 

· ⊰ synopsis. whilst flying through the airs in need of a break, námo is pleasantly surprised by the eagle that joins him

· ⊰ notes. this event should have been called a manwë event with how much I'm writing for him — not that I mind of course <3

‘Flying all by your lonesome, little raven?’

Upon hearing the familiar voice ring through his ears, Námo rears his presently ebony-feathered head and beholds the mighty wingspan above him. So, that is where the rays of light went. . . they were blocked out by none other than His Majesty.

White, elegant feathers flap through the skies. Twinkling yet slitted sapphire eyes peer at his fellow Vala who also takes the form of a winds' creature. The two of them soar through the skies — one noticeably smaller than the other, yet majestic in every right. A contrast of colours that flutter through the air.

'Have you been stalking me, Your Majesty?'

Námo hears a chime in Manwë's fëa, as though the king had laughed at his little tease. The great white eagle lowers himself so that he is flying side-by-side with his lover.

'Is it so wrong of me to crave my dear doomsman? I heard your song in my skies. How could I turn down the opportunity to soar with you?'

If Námo could, he might have smiled. Instead, to show his appreciation he turns directory and flies a few circles around the larger bird. Brushing their feathers together and nuzzling their soft heads.

'How about we retire to your halls? I would much rather see your true form.' Námo offers, only to receive another chuckle through his head which causes his heart to flutter in the slightest.

'Is someone calling me pretty?'

Námo nearly forgets how to fly. His wings stiffen and he falls a few inches before quickly flapping his wings in panic and regaining his composure. He shoots his head in Manwë's direction, cursing his beady raven eyes that can hardly produce his typical icy glare.

'How about we land? You shall receive a pinch for that one.'

Another laugh as Manwë nuzzles his head against his lover's before agreeing. 'As you wish, my darling.' While Námo might not see it in this form, he can feel Manwë's smile in the air.

And so the two love birds soar through the skies. Dancing through the winds and fluttering amongst each other as they return to Ilmarin's Halls.

· ⊰ masterlist. 

· ⊰ tip jar. 

· ⊰ get tagged for my writing. @cilil @discerningduck @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @wandererindreams @stormchaser819

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ please consider liking, reblogging and / or commenting if you enjoy my work! all feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

[doodle-pops]

The Ainur | With A Short Reader

Request: Can I make a request for headcanons for how the Ainur would be with a short human reader? Around 5 foot tall? Like an elf of about 6 feet would only reach up to some of their chest or lower still, considering they’re like 7-9 foot tall. Would they be cute, teasing, protective, frustrated by the height difference? P.s. I love the way you characterise all the Ainur, it really feels like their personality, you do a fantastic job. - anon

A/N: Happy to fulfil this request and learn that you enjoy my characterisations of them anon. I tend to envision the Ainur as nothing less than nine feet since they are deities and display their power through their heights. So you’re going to appear super short next to them. Nonetheless, Enjoy!

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Manwë

The bird was too stunned to speak. Are you a child or dwarf, certainly that could not be your final height at the end of your growth? Unfortunately, it is your complete height which makes you appear as a little bird before the great King. Now his nickname ‘little bird’ makes more sense.

He cannot fathom how you can be the same size as a bean and packed with all that sass whenever he mentions how tiny you are. You require a ladder if you ever reach his head for a ‘level-headed’ talk.

Has no issue picking you up with one hand and carrying you around like his personal comfort toy when he’s having a bad day. Anyone commenting or teasing gets a look that speaks about them receiving a bolt of lightning.

Let us not forget his avian side which is going to fawn over how adorable you are. You’re tiny and squishy, perfect for belonging in his nest where he can shower you in affection all day long.

The size difference is outstanding. Just picture a baby lying in their parents' bed, looking like a little nugget among the pillows…that’s what you appear like anytime you snuggle in his bed. On numerous occasions, he didn’t see you and almost squished you under the sheets.

With your size, it means wearing his robes and marching around his room or Ilmarin pretending to be him while he silently watches from afar. You are drowning in his robes, don’t even wear his shirt, it’s a gown on you.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Irmo

Your size doesn’t change the way he’s going to shower you with ultimate love and affection. Apart from the minor teasing he’ll conduct for the fun of the situation, Irmo loves you the same way if you are tall.

A gentleman who enjoys using the opportunities when granted to lift you over puddles or streams so he can fawn over how you fit in his arms. He (and the others) can lift you with his pinkie and has done it before.

You are authorised to always sleep on his chest—you look like a kitten sleeping on his chest in his eyes—mainly because you like to roll and so does he and nothing good has arisen from you both rolling together.

Gets lost in crowds and he panics. He’ll be walking around asking if anyone has seen his little lover and he will give descriptions. “They’re about 5 feet, this short and very tiny. They look like an elfling…”

Saw children’s clothing on a walk with you in a boutique, did not know they were for children and excitedly stated, “Oh look! I believe these would look lovely on you! They even have your colours.”

Do not be upset with him, he didn’t know that it was children’s clothing. Irmo only wished to share the moment of shopping with you. But worry not, he gathers the best seamstresses and tailors to fashion you the finest wear that looks nothing like children’s clothes.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Námo

Has a smile on his face anytime you take the lead and walk in front of him, hence his reason for always telling you to lead the way. He’s a simple Vala, he wants to watch as you waddle like a duck with your short legs as you take him to Eru knows where.

Pretends to complain when you ‘borrow’ his robes because you missed him, but gushes mentally at the sight of how you’re drowning in his forever monochromatic black robes.

His viridian eyes were soft at the sight of you walking around, dragging his robes all over. The idea of complaining about getting them dirty has disappeared, and all he is thinking about is how you look like a penguin.

Your feet running across his halls are the equivalent of tiny pitter-patter and it’s how he can easily distinguish your presence; just listen for the tiny footsteps. But it never works out well when you’re among elves and lost in a crowd.

The first time you met his brother, Irmo mistook you for a child Námo adopted and congratulated his brother on softening up to the idea of children. To make matters worse, you played along—much to Námo’s annoyance—and clung to his arm, calling him ‘atar/daddy’.

Irmo was elated, you were dying of laughter and Námo was contemplating his life. He couldn’t believe this was the humour he signed up for the moment he fell in love with someone shorter than most individuals.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Ulmo

Mistook you for the child wandering the shores the first time he saw you in the distance and scolded you for playing in the deep waters without parental supervision. That was until he learned you weren’t a child and your permanent height for a lifetime.

‘Pebble’ was the most suitable nickname he gifted you since pebbles were small and cute…like you. Plus, he brings you pebbles, seashells and pearls from the ocean floor as a token of affection.

Because you’re smaller, your strokes as you swim alongside him are slower, so he’ll call the seals, dolphins or whales to swim alongside you for assistance. You’re even allowed to ride them anytime you two are swimming out in the depths.

Since Ulmo’s true form is staggering, he opts to appear around the same height as you are anytime he has to walk the earth. His favourite place to have walks would be the beach obviously.

Hand holding while watching the sunset and he’s quietly staring at your short fingers holding his larger hand. He loves holding your hand to fawn over the size. He would even slip on a cute ring with a pearl one day.

Because Ulmo is known for having no resting place as he wanders the waters of the world, he enjoys visiting your home. It’s even better if you live near a lake for him to have easier access to seeing you frequently. Cue Ulmo marvels at how small your household items are as he picks them up.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Oromë

Congratulations, you are the perfect size to sit on all of his creatures (and him) to ride through the forest with him. He cannot get over your tiny figure because he knows that you’re about the same size as an elfling and all his creatures are larger than you.

Roughhousing is a thing that occurs between you both and he gets caught up in the experience to forget how easily he can send you on a trip to Estë for healing…because it has happened multiple times.

Picks you up like a sack of potatoes and slings you over his shoulder when he has to carry you somewhere and you’re being troublesome, or he wants to randomly surprise you. You’re as light as a feather as he runs with you through the forest.

Swinging from his muscular arms anytime he flexes his muscles for you? Yes, yes you do, and he loves it. Fuels his ego to know that he’s strong and his lover can climb him like a tree. Clinging to his muscular physique and probably biting him? Yes, you do that he calls you a tiny beast who needs to be tamed.

Not the type to underestimate the size of a creature you can ride because of your size but is also cautious at the same time. Wanted to gift you a Shetland pony because you were small enough to ride one, but back out last minute knowing that he would receive an earful. Gave you a giant-sized tiger or dog as a companion.

You wear his pelts and pretend to act like him, attempting to wield his bow—sweetheart, you couldn’t even draw the strings—as though you were hunting.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tulkas

No different from Oromë and will playfight with you using the strength in his pinkie finger and you’d still have to bandage some body parts because accidents happen all the time. No worries though, he praises your injuries and makes you feel as though you fought a great battle with him.

He has no doubts, dismisses your strengths and associates them with your size having seen many great warriors display outstanding strengths and feats despite their size. Instead, he encourages you to take pride in your size and all the greatness you can accomplish.

You got a workout buddy, or rather he got a new dumbbell to lift or someone to sit on his back for push-ups. Your weight is inconsequential, but it doesn’t stop you from enjoying the fun in the moment.

Also picks you up like a sack of potatoes and carries you around the place, introducing you to all his close friends and elves. Anytime you need to speak ‘eye-level’ with him, instead of going to lengths to climb tables or a tree, he’ll kneel to your level.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Melkor

Getting called dwarf, child, or both the first time you meet will result in him changing the names and calling you a critter if you attempt to attack him for calling you short. Probably ‘ankle biter’ might be your new name because he denoted that small things have the most rage.

You’re a ferocious ankle-biter in his eyes whose nerves he enjoys getting on because your responses are hilarious. It’s all in jest…or maybe not.

Nothing of his will ever fit you, that also means trying to wear his crown with the Silmarils. It’s currently sitting on your neck as we speak. All you can do is make versions of his outfits tailored to your size.

You’re smaller, so his hands can cover your entire face. Know what that means? Squish your cheeks as you speak to admire how soft and dough-like they are. “Hm, ankle biter, you have remarkably soft cheeks,” he says while squishing your face.

There’s nothing you can climb on to meet his height because he makes sure that there isn’t anything around. He wants you to break your neck looking up at him (bite his ankles and he’ll reach your height).

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Eönwë

“You’re like a hummingbird minus the speed,” he chuckled upon the first sight of your tiny figure. You were lucky he didn’t consider you a lost child who wandered before him in search of help because he was ready to call you ‘child’.

I have to say, Eӧnwё is the best person to try the same ‘daddy’ prank on when you’re walking through the streets of Valimar but clinging to him and acting like a child for the elves to fawn over how adorable the interaction is. There is always an elf who inquires for you to look them in the eye and say, “This is my atya!”

His avian side adores your tininess; and makes you all the more delicate and squishable. You are never again going to leave the nest…just joking, but his protective side goes up a notch because you are TINY.

I mean, he loses you in a crowd easily and you can’t even jump high enough to show your location. You can climb a table or chair but still have to get past the sea of heads before Eӧnwё spots you.

Gets you the smaller version of everything so you don’t have to struggle with holding the larger objects. He once watched as you climbed a chair as if it were a mountain or fought with a glass of wine because the glass was too big to hold.

At least going on flights doesn’t change whether you’re extra small or bigger. Visits in the morning and takes you to watch the sunrise over the mountain from a bird’s eye view.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tilion

Doesn’t matter if you’re tiny or tall, you still look the same from his view in the sky as he guides the moon. But he does melt at the sight of you looking up at the moon.

You are forever his ‘little deer’ even though you’re probably feisty and love to bite or nibble on his arms all the time. Similar to Oromë, carries you around like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder, but more for the fun of watching your short legs dangle.

Doesn’t alter the size of any furniture so he can observe your legs dangling over the edges and sway, or the size difference between you and the table designed for a nine-foot entity.

Roughhousing is a constant must-have between you both because he adores pinning your smaller body under his and making you fight back. Tilion just wants to watch you struggle and wiggle like a worm. Bite him.

Puts you to sleep on top of him because it is the safest option unless you want to be crushed under a giant nine-foot Maia, and you look like a tiny kitten curled up on his chest. The only thing he hasn’t done is pick you up by your scruff.

He’s such a tease when it comes to you both riding through the forest. Tilion will purposefully place you behind him so you can’t see a thing and then tease you about being too small. But it’s all in jest because he’ll have you ride an elk or reindeer or even a pony that was handpicked to match your size.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Mairon

He also assumed you’re an ankle biter as well because he called you short and you were ready to attack. Please, do not release him from your tyranny because he will make fun of your height and pat your head or rest his arm atop your head when he’s resting. Again, bite him.

Complains about your short legs and how slow you are when you’re walking side-by-side but comes to you later to ask for assistance because some tool of his fell into a small hole and you’re tiny enough to get it.

Tells you that he’ll feed you to his wolves if you don’t stop clinging to him when in truth, he loves it. You’re small enough to not be a distraction as he moves about his forge or the fortress, but it’s just Mairon being a tsundere.

Doesn’t see you lying in his bed because his bed is huge and you’re extra small, so he almost lies atop your body. It’s turned into a staring match like how children stare you down without blinking.

Has a tendency to carry you around, for funsies, by holding onto your belt or grabbing the back of your clothes so you dangle as he powers through the corridors until he arrives at his Lord holding you like a briefcase.

Deep down, as much as he teases your size, he enjoys the differences. Watching you fight to lift an object made for his size or dress in his clothes—if you’re brave enough to try this—is entertaining.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster

[feralteapot]

Since I’m not sleeping any time soon, might as well give into the simp thoughts again.

Manwe First Time (reader virginity loss) fic was great.

My brain requires one for Namo . I need to know how it’d go with him.

(Though technically we’ll find that out with Sweet Escape)

Namo taking reader’s virginity fic when.

( @edensrose you’re responsible for this train of thought)

[cilil]

Awww I love this picture so much. Cute borbs

[lamemaster]

Marred Music (Chapter 2)

Genre: Drama & angst (hurt no comfort)

Pairing: Fingolfin x Maia Reader

Summary: When he looked up, however, another pair of golden eyes met his own, your eyes. Bright, sharp, and unblinking, they regarded him with an intensity that made him freeze. Startled, he let out a squeal unbecoming of his dignity and very ungracefully tumbled from the tree.

AN: Second part and the last one

Chapter 1| Chapter 2

Reader POV

“The sons of Finwë are destined to perform valiant deeds in the days to come. Their fate is woven into the very melody of Arda. That fate does not rest with you,” Mandos declares, his voice a commanding force that pins you to the spot, unyielding and absolute.

What began as a simple errand to the Halls of Mandos has transformed into a reckoning of your own truth. How he came to know of your tryst with Nolofinwe remains a mystery. Was it your brother who discovered it? Your lord Manwe? Or was it the Vala’s foresight?

Before you can summon the courage to speak, the Vala continues: “Your beloved will wed another elleth. His fate, and the fate of his children, is sealed. There is little you can alter. Should you attempt to change it by force, the consequences will ripple through many lives in the days to come.”

The overwhelming power of the Vala’s presence weighs down upon you, and your response is meek, your voice trembling: “Would harm come to him in my presence?”

“No one may know what is to come,” Mandos replies, his tone measured yet unyielding. “Yet, blurred lines of fate point to a future apart from you. Something that won't be certain with your presence next to him. A future shrouded in dark is out of our hands,” He pauses, his next words cold and resolute, echoing through the desolate halls. “It is not your fate to be with the second eldest of Finwë.”

You lower your gaze, unable to meet his piercing eyes. The rippling waves of the lake lap gently at your feet, their touch tender, almost reverent, as though the waters themselves mourn with you for what has been taken away.

“I understand,” you whisper, though your voice falters beneath the weight of the words. Fragile and hollow, they carry a sorrow that burrows deep into your soul, a void left by something Namo has stripped from you.

His decree must be obeyed, for it is for the betterment of Arda. Yet, the ache in your heart remains, an unrelenting pain that spills silently from your eyes, flowing like the waters at your feet.

Nolofinwe POV

Nolofinwe yearned for another meeting. He sought out every familiar nook and hidden haunt from the past, yet no matter where he ventured, he failed to catch a glimpse of you.

As a final resort, he turned to the kingdom of his uncle’s people. Perhaps there, among the branches of a great tree, you might be found tending to hatchlings in their parents’ absence, fulfilling your quiet duty.

Or so he had hoped.

But you were gone.

You, who once came at his first call, who crossed lands with such swiftness just to see him, now remained silent.

Had he erred? Had he hurt you in some way? Had someone else hurt you? 

Nolofinwe did not know.

Desperation drove him to seek Eonwe, the fair and noble herald of Manwe. Surely, Eonwe would provide him with answers, some clue to where you might be.

But even Eonwe was gone. The court of Manwe stood vacant of his presence. An absence so unprecedented, so unthinkable, that Nolofinwe was left stunned.

For the first time, he felt truly lost.

And then it came—the ache in his heart. It was unlike the debilitating sickness that afflicted other heartbroken elves. He did not crumble as his father had at the mere mention of Míriel. He did not waste away, nor lose his appetite, nor forget how to smile.

Yet, something lingered in his fea. A shadowed sorrow that remained hidden most days, only to surface at the edges of memory. It struck during feasts, at the sight of peaches, or when a song reminded him of you.

He thought of you every time he saw his elder brother. Birds stopping mid-flight would halt him in his path, their wings stirring a faint memory of you.

But after decades of waiting, Nolofinwe stopped. He stopped seeking. Stopped allowing your name to pass his lips. Stopped searching for Eonwe. Stopped loving you or so he told himself. And in the silence of that lie, he agreed to a marriage with Anaire.

He loved Anaire, he told himself. Truly, he did. Feanaro disagreed, of course, but Nolofinwe no longer sought his approval.

The Eldar wed in love, after all. His was a marriage of love, Nolofinwe insisted. A happy union that blessed him with his children.

Findekano, the most cheerful of toddlers. Turukano, the most responsible of young ones. Irsse, the wild and free-spirited daughter. And Arkano, the youngest and beloved of all.

He was happy. Nolofinwe truly was.

But just the sight of you unraveled him all over again. One fleeting glimpse, and he lost the strength to breathe. Perhaps it was partly due to the fatal wound Melkor had just dealt him but in truth, Nolofinwe no longer cared.

On the bloodied soil of Middle-earth, he saw you once more. A meeting so profound that only songs could hope to capture it. With your wings spread wide against the bleak sky, your descent carried a grace that made even the wind bow in reverence.

In that moment, he knew. He still loved you.

The ache he had buried for decades surged to the surface, and Nolofinwe—now Fingolfin, gasped, blood spilling from his lips.

“Do not move,” you whispered, your voice trembling with urgency. Your hands reached for him, drawing him into your arms with a gentleness so familiar, he barely felt the touch.

He struggled to form your name with his lips, but no sound emerged. His crushed throat refused him even this final plea.

Yet the words remained in his mind, pressing against yours in desperate thought.

“Forgive me. I love you still. I never stopped. I was wrong.”

In the trembling whispers of your healing chants, he catches the glimmer of your tears. Pearls that seem more noble than the Silmarils themselves.

“Let me take you back,” you murmur, your hand tenderly caressing his bloodied cheek. “Please, Nolo,” you beg, your lips trembling, the plea heavy with desperation.

With his broken body and a soul on the edge of departure, he hears the last of your prayers carried into the wind.

“You promised no hurt would come to him…” you whisper, a note of anguish bordering on madness, as you prepare to carry him to the camp, to his sons.

But his breaths falter, and his vision dims. He clings only to the final sight of your tear-streaked face, the anguish etched into every corner of your being.

In your arms, chieftain of the eagles, dies Nolofinwe, Fingolfin. The most noble of the line of Finwe.

Reader POV

You loved him in the blessed lands of Arda. You loved him from the distant shores of Middle-earth. Yet, that love had always been sweetly unfulfilled. From the glimpses you had stolen of his life, you saw your beloved at peace.

His adorable elflings bore so much of him. Their father’s steadfast heart and their gentle mother’s grace.

Namo had been right. Your absence had allowed Nolofinwe to flourish. And that knowledge, bittersweet as it was, had been enough to sustain you through the eternity of the Timeless Halls.

Your brother, however, had been different. Eonwe had protested your decision with a fervor you had never seen in him before. For the first time in his existence, he argued with your lord.

He had begged for you to remain in the Blessed Realm, his cries forlorn, his thoughts tangled in the pain of separation. But the years softened even Eonwe. Eventually, he found it easier to visit you in Middle-earth than to remain at odds with Manwë.

Those visits became your solace. Soaring together through the skies of Middle-earth, you found fleeting joy in the treasured moments shared with your brother.

And so you were content. Heeding Namo’s words, trusting the promise that your beloved’s joy would flourish without you, you found peace.

Until now.

Now, you held him in your arms, cradling what little remained of him. His broken body, fragile and bloodied, rested against you as your wings unfurled to shield him, as though they could still guard him from a fate long sealed.

“You were supposed to prosper,” you murmured, your voice trembling under the weight of your sorrow. “Namo said… next to her, you were supposed to live.”

Your words vanished into the void, unheard by the one who needed them most.

“What use was leaving?” you whispered bitterly, your tears falling unchecked. A sob escaped your lips, quiet yet suffused with anguish. “You absolute fool… How am I to exist after this sight?”

Bringing him to his sons became your labor, a task you bore with unyeilding sense of duty to him. Your pain was your repentance, for leaving him, for allowing him to endure such suffering, and for the heartbreak you could not undo.

To his eldest, the one who carried glimpses of his mother and so much of Nolofinwe’s spirit, you came bearing their father.

Years later, you heard that voice again. The voice of his bloodline accompanied by harp, calling out across time, summoning you. And you came. To Fingon for the rescue of Feanor’s eldest. 

Every time his descendants called, you answered. At every summon of his kin, you arrived, steadfast and unyielding. Yet, the weariness of time began to gnaw at your music, the weight of eternity dragging you down as you gave what little remained of yourself.

Yet, love failed to wither.

Because beyond time, beyond separation or union, beyond pain and pleasure- is where love lies. Far from where it can come to an end or fade away from existence.

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine being a former spirit of Manwe and then becoming a spirit of Mandos

You were a former spirit of Manwe, who became trapped in the form of a raven by Melkor. You then find yourself in service of Mandos and find new life within his halls.

Requested by Anon

Hello!👋 I would like to request a Namo(Mandos) x Maiar reader who once served Manwe until her sudden marriage arranged by Eru himself. She helps her husband with the souls, elven and men, by guiding them to their different resting places. She and Mandos didn't want to get married, but with a lot of convincing from Manwe and Varda they both gave in. (please continue I don't know what else to add🥲)

A little angsty, but fluff pls🥺

(she is like a wind spirit helping Manwe with the winds)

(I don't know what I am thinking/requesting🥲, you can ignore this request👍)

(Author's note: I struggled to come up with ideas for this as I didn't know how reader would end up from making winds to suddenly guide the dead, so I changed it just a bit to fit the original theme and make it work. I hope you're fine with that. Also--- when it comes to characters who are canonically married to someone known. My brain always goes *why not both?*. It might have also become more platonic than romantic. My head lost ideas on that part. Sorry if that was not what you completely wanted but it was the best I could come up with. )

Warnings: Melkor, torture, death, you being corrupted, living and surviving alone, angst, guiding dead spirits, reunion, becoming Mandos's maiar, angst to fluff, and a good ending.

-------------------------------------------------

- You used to be one of Manwe’s wind spirits, taking care of the natural flow of the wind around the world. You were happy with your position as your lord was kind and compassionate toward you and your friends. But then, one day, you and your friends were taken against your will by his less kind brother, Melkor. 

- You and your friends' forms were that of small birds and you had never been part of battles like Thorondor and his eagles, so you were powerless against the fallen valar as he subjected you to his cruel tortures and experiments — trying to discover the secret of your wings that allowed you to fly. 

- You managed to escape by turning yourself into the wind, making him unable to grab you. However, as a mere wisp of wind, you could not help your friends as he twisted their bodies and very souls. It was terrible. You only left when your last remaining friend pleaded for you to escape. However, Melkor did not allow you to leave unscathed. 

- As he was greater in power, he cursed and tainted your body with his darkness. The foul airs forced you to return to your bird form and be twisted into that of a raven, causing you pain and being cut off from your connection with the wind. He laughed in mockery as he allowed you to flee, calling out how you will never be accepted again by Manwe and the other valar for your new corrupted form. 

- After you escaped his domain, you wandered and grieved for many years for the cruel fate of your friends and your new life.  You did not want to believe the fallen valar’s words, but since you could no longer feel the connection you once had with Manwe’s domain, you feared he was right. You were completely cut off, trapped in a form forced upon you by him. Everything felt wrong and you were completely alone. 

- Ravens already had a poor reputation for being associated with death and darkness. They were seen as ill omens thus the Valars might cast you out than let you step into their lands again. 

- After some years, you learned to survive as a raven. You missed your home and Manwe, but due to your corrupt form, you learned to accept you will never see them again.

- When the first children of Eru awakened, you tried to watch out for them as they lived in darkened lands, meaning they were easy targets to Melkor and his creatures. You couldn't do much as Melkor’s servants were too powerful and the elves began to see you as a spy as you were always there when a servant of Melkor arrived — even though you tried to warn them whenever they were near. 

- However, you then found out something strange. When you found body of a dead elf, you were able to see their disembodied soul and being able to speak with them. It was strange as you were not able to speak with them when they were alive. You have heard some maiars can develop different abilities if they were associated with a certain thing for long periods of time — in your case— death. 

- You knew what would happen to the souls lost in the dark, so you took it upon yourself to guide them toward the direction of the halls of Mandos. 

- It was not easy but when you succeeded in bringing the soul to safety, you decided to help as many souls as you could, saving them from the cruel grips of Melkor’s darkness. It was the first time you felt grateful for your new body as it allowed you to see through the dark and fly unnoticed by Melkor’s servants. 

- You did it for many years. Mandos eventually took notice whenever a new soul came to his halls and spoke about a raven. He would bring it up to the other Valars who would become intrigued by this strange raven.

- When Orome finally located the elves — he also found you. He immediately knew you were a maiar trapped in a singular form. He spoke how your efforts have been noticed by the Valar and expressed his sympathy when you told him you were one of many who Melkor had taken against their will and twisted beyond recognition. He then said you were welcome to enter Aman and asked you to return with him. 

- You felt fearful of the offer as you still saw yourself tainted and did not know how Manwe would react seeing you again. However, through assurance from Orome, you accepted his offer and returned to Aman with him. 

- Manwe was shocked when he recognized you. He then grieved when you told him what Melkor did to you and your friends, and that you had wandered alone in the darkened lands for many years. He said he would not have turned you away if you had come to him. He knew Melkor took many of his maiars, and none ever returned from his cruelty, so seeing one of his maiars return brought relief.

- You felt small joy by his statement. However, the damage Melkor had done to you had already been done. You could no longer create winds or change shape thus there was no way you could serve him again. 

- Mandos then suggested that you could come to serve in his halls instead since you had become more associated with the realm of the dead and spirits. Melkor’s darkness and evil prevented many souls from returning to his halls. You had already guided many souls back to the light and were capable of retrieving them from the darkness unnoticed. 

- You accepted the proposition. If it meant you would have a home again and help those Melkor had wronged, then you would do it. 

- As now a servant of Mandos, you diligently traveled in the darkness, guiding the lost souls back to their rightful resting places. Mandos was grateful for your efforts and through time you learned new abilities and had become a spirit associated with the dead. Melkor could not see you as your black feathers blended you with the dark and neither could he sense you as you moved between the realms of life and death, making his efforts to trap the souls of the lost futile. 

- It was nearly ironic how his own curse had turned against him. 

- Eventually, you became strong enough to overcome Melkor’s curse and regain your ability to change shape. Your form and powers had significantly changed as you were now a maiar of Mandos, but you no longer found anything wrong with your new form. You had even grown to prefer to stay in your raven form. It was small and quick. 

- You had also grown fond of your new valar. Mandos was not the most expressive of the Valars, preferring to watch from the side in silence, but he was kind to you and his other maiars. His wife, Vaire, was also very kind to you. She was easy to talk to and often asked stories about the souls and their tales so she could weave them. In her mind, no story was not worth being weaved. 

- The two valars were perhaps considered an odd pair by the outsiders, but to you, they seemed perfect for each other. Unintentionally, you had become quite involved with their lives. 

- Mandos often allowed you to rest near him and you two would enjoy the peaceful silence inside the halls.

-Vaire would sometimes ask for small requests from you which you were happy to fulfill. 

- You would sometimes end up getting pulled into some small drama when it came to Irmo or the other valars getting bored. 

- Sometimes Mandos and Vaire would invite you for small leisure time, which would include enjoying the peacefulness. 

- In your small free time, you would end up either playing or riding on Gorgumoth in your raven form. 

- You were content with your life. You did not know if your experience was part of Eru’s plan but your past no longer bothered you. You were happy to serve your two favorite Valars. 

[ainur-confessions]

❪ ♡ ❫ ── modern!námo & manwë | polyamory

imagine how absolutely spoilt you would be in a modern setting when dating these two ( they're both dating you but not each other )

you cannot tell me these two do not just radiate s*gar daddy vibes right off the bat. if it's not manwë taking you on extensive shopping trips and immediately getting you everything that you look at for more than five seconds — then it's námo planning out your meals and making sure that they're all delivered to your doorstep along with a bouquet of flowers, that his brother helped pick out, weekly.

imagine getting your nails done with námo or trying out a variety of dresses for manwë.

of course, they meet in the middle when it comes to you and both have no issue with the amount of time you spend with the other. more often than not they are both with you. if one's driving, the other's in the backseat with you. if námo has a case that morning, manwë's ensuring you get your breakfast, if manwë's in a meeting a bit later than expected, námo's pulling up to your university / workplace to pick you up.

oh, and about picking you up from university / workplace, it is an entire riot when they BOTH show up. manwë coming in to lead you out and put his coat over your shoulders. your colleagues are practically staring in envy — and then they see námo leaning against the car. surely not —

and just as expected námo loops an arm around your shoulders and kisses your head before getting you into car. both of them following after.

oh, this isn't even half of it.

[dirty-ainur-confessions]

Whenever I think of Manwë or Námo or Irmo, I just get all moan-y and turned on. I think I have a type *cough* Ainur *cough*.

oh love, absolute same. I have no idea what makes them so attractive to me but I am absolutely feral for these three valar on particular — especially manwë and námo. there's just something about them. imagine a foursome with those three, I'm. . .

[arofili]

Blasphemy

Maitimo tempts Death itself, though in a more exciting manner than usual.

Back to Middle-earth Month | 3/22/22 Russingon Tropes Bingo: Fingon names Maedhros “Russandol”; Maedhros names Fingon “the Valiant”

also a kinkmeme fill for @valasania-the-pale ... AND the 2000th work in the Russingon tag on AO3!!

Rating: E | No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Maedhros/Fingon Characters: Maedhros, Fingon, Fëanor, Námo, Manwë Word count: 1.6k

READ IT ON AO3!

[furious-haste-of-malice]

Hi! I loved your Manwe x Namo story you wrote a while ago and was wondering if I could request another thing with them with Namo on the receiving end of the whump? Feel free to delete this if it's not something you want to do. Thanks!

All tied up in July

AN: Sure thing! I apologize for the delay, real life and other stuff kept me busy, but here you go - and I hope you don't me using this prompt for one of my series :) @tolkienpinupcalendar here's another (very late lol) submission!

⛓ Prompt: Immobilization | Manwë x Námo ⛓ Synopsis: Manwë has noticed that Námo has been avoiding him since their last encounter and decides to seek him out again ⛓ Warnings: Inappropriate use of lightning, non-consensual immobilization, forced masturbation ⛓ Short oneshot (~800 words)

"You have been avoiding me, Námo."

Námo turned swiftly to face his king, his veil  fluttering from the sudden movement, nearly exposing the lower half of his face. 

There was a sort of sternness in Manwë's voice that had him worried, one that usually wasn't present in his melodious, lilting tone. 

Yes. The truth was that Námo had been avoiding him ever since that night, ever since he had been punished — taken against his will. His fána had hurt for days after, though he had taken great care to conceal his injuries and wash away any traces of illicit coupling. 

It wasn't as if he could make use of it as evidence of a crime anyway. The Blessed One, Ilúvatar's favourite and dearest to him, was above being accused of such things. 

"Forgive me, my king. I sought to rectify my mistake by performing my duties to the best of my ability," Námo explained himself, bowing his head. 

Manwë frowned at him, his serene demeanour fading, and he knew then that he was going to be hurt again. The only question remaining was how badly. 

"You disappoint me, Námo. It is unbecoming of you to make flimsy excuses." Manwë took a few steps forward, and Námo forced his fána to stand still.

They were close now, too close, and he was able to be touched. And sure enough, a pair of taloned hands reached for him, yet before they made contact, small bolts of lightning danced between them, sizzling through the air. 

Námo wanted to gasp in pain, but found that he couldn't. His muscles refused to obey him. He was immobilised, helpless in his own fána, to be toyed with as his king pleased. 

Manwë watched him for a few moments, admiring his work and the faint twitching of muscles as his spell held the Fëantur in place, then pulled his veil aside and leaned in to kiss him. 

"We shall work on your lack of reciprocity another time," he whispered. "For now, you may simply receive." 

To Námo it felt almost merciful that he wasn't expected to kiss back. He wanted to withdraw, to move away, but each time he even thought of it another burst of lightning coursed through him, keeping him in this strange state of captivity. 

Shall I be defiled again? Or has he devised another method of punishment? he silently asked himself when Manwë decided he had his fill and moved behind him instead. 

"It was truly unfortunate that I had to punish you last time," he sighed wistfully, now removing Námo's hood and veil so he could nuzzle the smooth, dark hair hidden underneath. "But now I shall show you pleasure. You would like that, wouldn't you?"

Námo knew no answer from him was required, nor did his opinion matter. His king had decided that he wanted him, wanted to do these things to him, and he could not refuse; to disobey the Elder King was to disobey the One, and his father had always been strict with him. 

Too easily were his robes parted, too casually slid a hand between his legs, finding treacherous flesh responding to the whizzing, buzzing currents holding his fána in an iron grip. 

"So you do enjoy submitting and being helpless," Manwë whispered, pushing his hair aside with his free hand and kissing his neck. "I shall take note of this." 

Mercilessly, the hand wrapped around his cock and began to stroke. 

Resistance, even with his normally impeccable control over his own fána, was futile. Námo could only twitch and jerk weakly, trying to suppress any sort of pleasure he felt, though it was a battle he knew he was soon going to lose. Not even he was beyond the weakness of flesh when he chose to wear it. Not even he could force it to stop feeling. 

A tiny tremble in his legs, a jolt in his hips, a twitch in his cock, a faint whimper, that was all Manwë allowed. 

Námo felt sick. Even closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to witness his fána being defiled was difficult. And despite his best efforts to force down the rising pleasure, to disconnect and imagine himself elsewhere, he was helpless against Manwë's power and his hands on him, eventually forcing an orgasm out of him. 

The air smelled like a mixture of storm and sex.

When Manwë finally released him, Námo fell to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut, his limbs feeling exhausted and numb. 

"I know, I know. You are so very sensitive." 

The same hand now stroked his hair, leaving evidence of his defilement behind, white droplets between black strands. 

Námo was certain he would have thrown up if he had been in the habit of ingesting food. 

"But you will get used to it," Manwë continued, friendly as always. "I shall seek you again." 

"Y-yes, my king." Námo's entire fána shook too violently for him to even nod. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

[cilil]

𝓐𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓼 - 𝟐𝟎 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

⊱ Doom

Characters: Námo/Manwë Synopsis: Námo wishes he could be more than just another servant to his king. Warnings: Angst Follow-up to ⊱ Fate

So it is doomed.

Every time Námo is ordered by his king to pronounce his judgement, every time he utters these words, it feels like he himself is damned, alongside those unfortunate souls who have chosen an ill-fated path; yet unlike the Children of Ilúvatar, he was never really given a choice to be someone different than he is.  

He stands in the Ring of Doom, tall, proud and elegant, his fána concealed by long robes and veils, his hands folded neatly underneath wide sleeves, his expression betraying no emotion. Manwë gazes upon him from his throne, contemplates his words and finally accepts with a gracious nod. 

"So be it." 

And in an instant, Námo is deprived of the warmth of blue fire within his eyes again, a silent dismissal. He bows his head and sits down, feeling oddly small. Of course the Elder King's gaze wouldn't linger on him; he is but a servant of His Majesty, and his appearance certainly doesn't draw attention due to his modest attire. He must always maintain the dignity and appearance befitting of the tasks he was made for, and Eru does not permit him to stray from his path. 

Námo knows he will have to admire his beloved king from a distance and show his adoration and devotion through his service; for that is all that will ever be, so is his doom.

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

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[edensrose]

Manwë : I made tea.

Námo : I don’t want tea.

Manwë : I did not make tea for you. This is my tea.

Námo : Then why are you telling me?

Manwë : It is a conversation starter.

Námo : That’s a lousy conversation starter.

Manwë : Oh, is it? We are conversing. Checkmate.

[doodle-pops]

“How Much Do You Love Me?”

A/N: This was originally planned for the underrated character event and ended up being scrapped at the last minute. Enjoy!

I’D DIE FOR YOU…in a heartbeat, if you ever asked them to choose, they would instead give their lives so that you can continue living. They preferably die, even if the act was selfish, which meant leaving you alone for the rest of your life. It would pain them to leave you behind to suffer and grieve their deaths, but it was better than staining their hands with blood while continuing to live. It simply wasn’t a part of their nature. It felt more heroic to give their life to save the love of theirs.

Celebrimbor, Fingolfin, Fingon, Argon, Finarfin, Finrod, Angrod, Aegnor, Glorfindel, Ecthelion, Egalmoth, Rog, Galdor, Beleg, Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan, Erestor, Gil Galad, Manwë, Irmo, Námo, Eönwë, Tilion

I’D KILL FOR YOU…and there’s no joking around when some got on their knees and swore to remove anyone and anything that threatened to harm or take you away from them. They have no issue in removing the enemy with their hands—getting them dirty was all a part of your protection. The act of taking someone’s life never or no longer bothers them so long as you remain safe and alive.

Feanor, Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, Amras, Fingon, Turgon, Maeglin, Thingol

I'D BURN THE WORLD FOR YOU…and they would do it in a heartbeat if that was the only way for the both of you to live in peace without any enemies and threats. A guaranteed method to sustain both your happiness and forever. A world without anyone to obstruct your love and steal either of you away. They would set the world on fire to remove everything so long as you remain at their side, and from the ashes, they’ll merely create a new world for you both to live in peace.

Feanor, Thingol, Melkor, Mairon

Masterlist

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[irmolorienasks-imagines]

Random Irmo headcanon(s)

Me and @elf-in-a-mask think that when Irmo sleeps with Manwe, he does it in melkor's form because Manwe sees him too strongly as a friend. Manwe is a lot different than Namo when it comes to intimacy; knowing what happens between the two and how it affects Irmo, I don't think Manwe would have the heart to treat him like that too. He knows that Namo does not hurt him on purpose, he is just Bad With Feelings, but still, he doesn't want Irmo to feel like he's being used by everyone -despite he would not complain either way cause he  has come to believe that this is part of his work, to be taken advantage of. 

As to how Irmo appears to Melkor in his dreams and who’s form; he’d definitely not take Mairon’s cause Melkor would be hurt by that and Irmo doesn't want to hurt him. Perhaps he only appears to him as himself, wanting to be comforted -by the wrong person, might I add. Or perhaps he appears in his nightmare form and crawls next to him to cuddle. Generally Irmo thinks of his nightmare form as a resort of sorts, where noone is going to desire him and hurt his feelings.He walks such a fine line, you see, and I think he has come to love his own suffering; which is so... natural for him. It is the kind of insanity that everyone understands. 

That’s why he has Silmo, always ready to jump in and help. For Silmo is no fool, he has been with irmo enough to know how he feels, and that is one of the reasons he hates Namo so much, because he sees him as responsible for Irmo's suffering. Namo has just as much hate for Silmo though. He’s angry that the Maia thinks that he is hurting Irmo, because truth is, Namo doesn't have the slightest idea about what is really happening in irmo's mind, cause -duh- he's THAT bad with feelings. He just thinks the stupid maia is blaming him for no reason and he feels “left out” in a way because he cannot understand what Silmo can. He tries but it only comes across as being fake and a strange distortion of feelings. It's not that he doesn't love Irmo like Silmo thinks, it's just that he cannot express it, because that is totally against his nature. Irmo understands this and that is why he hasn't told him anything about what troubles him, because he fears it would make things worse. Deep inside him he knows that Namo loves him, but his insecurities, inferiority complex and low self-esteem don't let him to believe it.