Namo, like the other Fëanturi in my headcanons, has a less organic-looking shape than the Arratar. He and his siblings have very whimsical, almost allegorical forms. His face is mask-like, and he doesn’t have a body so much as robes that fall in the shape of a body. His expression can change but he doesn’t move his mouth when he speaks, and his voice has an echo as though he takes the acoustics of his halls with him wherever he goes.
There’s a common misconception that “Mandos” is both his name and the name of his hall– this is only half true. His name is Námo, and he IS is hall, which is called Mandos. He contains, and exists in, the realm he governs.
He’s really quite pleasant to talk to, if you don’t mind venturing deep into the uncanny valley. He has a strong and uncompromising sense of justice, has pity for those who have suffered but is unwilling to compromise on the laws of his land, unless a greater thread of fate intervenes. He likes formality and logic, and is fond of puzzles and long games of strategy.
His vision of the Theme gave him greater insight into the future of Arda than any of his brethren; but this is of limited use to those in the present. Like the Norse gods knowing the sequence of events of Ragnarök but being unable to avoid it by nature of being gods, the Valar know what will become of themselves and the world during the Dagor-Dagorath. Námo proclaims those Dooms that are necessary to be spoken according to his knowledge of what Must Be, what he saw occurring in the First Music. As with his realm, he exists simultaneously within, and as the embodiment, of Fate; both a participant and its mouthpiece. Yes, he knows it’s confusing. He’s sorry. Would you like a cup of tea? Vaire made it fresh.
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 