FINALLY, a sensible series of questions!
One: Mithril is crunchier, but nothing is a nice as gold, OBVIOUSLY.
Two: Lava, any day; plasma is Varda’s territory.
Three: I am less acquainted with hard construction metals than Sauron, but carbon nanotubes sound delicious, whatever they are.
Lastly: Stirring requires delicacy and a gentle touch– shaking is MUCH more fun, particularly on a tectonic scale!
…Now then, how are you holding up old fellow? We miss your godless machiavellian ways!
No.
Have you?
That is a difficult question! I seldom worked directly with my fellow maiar. Aulë placed me in charge of the Great Forge, where thousands labored together, but -my- work was often not shared. When I forged, I forged under his direction, and to me he gave the greatest tasks to complete. Yet you must understand there was always a feeling of communal support between the maiar of Aulë… We felt united in our joy and work, almost as if we were still connected in the sea of being before time began. In that way, none of us worked alone, and yet, very few of us knew one another personally.
However, I do remember some who struck me as particularly efficient, or creative, or amusing– I liked well one maia in particular who–
“WAS IT I, YOUR WONDERFUL SIBLING, CURUNIR? YOU ALWAYS LIKED ME BEST, DIDN’T YOU BROTHER? HOW COULD YOU NOT!!! AHAHA I AM SPLENDID AND PERFECT LIKE A RAINBOW AND FATHER MADE ME ESPECIALLY TO BE EQUAL (IF NOT SUPERIOR) TO YOU IN ALL WAYS, SO NATURALLY YOU LOVED ME BEST OF ALL. RIGHT? RIGHT???”
…………………….
……..
….
*cough*
–One maia in particular, I remember, was always a pleasure to work with. I believe her name was The Reliable.
She always seemed to anticipate what I needed and had whatever tools or plans ready before I asked for them. Hah… and she had a sense of humor that caught me off guard on many occasions! She was very clever, I recall, but she never used her brilliance to create work of her own, only to improve and make easier the tasks that were given her.
It won’t surprise you to know she serves Aulë still, and was never tempted away from the fold. I cannot blame her– at times I envy those who knew their path from the beginning and never strayed from it. I wish her well, wherever she is.
“BROTHER PAY ATTENTION TO ME!?”
…And that is all.
“SAURON–! I’M YOUR BIGGEST FAN!!!1 BETTER THAN YOU, OF COURSE, BUT STILL A FAN!!!”
…All.
I do not wish to answer this question, least of all to thee.
You know that anything I say now must be in complete honesty, so you wish to set me up to your advantage. If I answer you, it will be only a fragment of truth, something only true of the moment, as though my story had ended, as though I were not still searching. It will only give you one more piece of evidence to advance your self-satisfied assumptions about me. You shall point and say “ah, you see I knew this to be true, and now you have proven it!”
Well, I won’t let you. I know this game; you stage your questions in such a way that makes my answering seem as though I confirm all of your sneaky qualifications hidden in framework, and I won’t play along.
I may be forced to speak the truth, brother, but I am not forced to speak.
“I have no need to lead rebellions or uprisings,” he sighed, smoothing a hand back through the inky hair. “We already rule the seas without being so militant about it and there are days when I have little to no interest in Aman. All I wanted to see there has been destroyed and my brothers will not recognize me now.”
( that’s my boy)
person: *draws a character as a POC* or *interprets a character as trans*
someone else: haha, cool headcanon, but uh, i dont think its canon… just so you know its probably not how the author sees it… yup… definitely not like that actually…
person: that’s cool have you considered that the entire work isn’t real and the sacredness of canon is dramatically overstated because ultimately all fiction is a reflection of the human experience for which there is of course no objective reference point and the process of reflection that occurs between the work and the viewer is ultimately no less valid than the process of reflection between the work and the creator
A magnificent large Achaemenid figure of a winged bull, the mythic beast depicted sitting with his legs folded beneath him, he is seated upon a rectangular base decorated in relief with lion and flowers. Provenance: Sabet Collection. 16 ½ in. h. x 23 in. l. x 7 in. w. (42 x 58.5 x 18 cm) (note: Winged bulls appear throughout the Middle East often as gate guardians with human heads. See the frieze depicting a winged bull in the Apadana Palace Iran.)
No. Not for anything on so large a scale.
I’ve been furiously angry with him for upsetting my forge– or using my stock of ores as his personal buffet without telling me–! But his choices never angered me; not his long absences, or failures, or his fits of bile and distrust. It’s odd, isn’t it? The small, trifling quarrels could send us into rages, yet the great disasters, I cherished. I found they brought us closer, in a way.
I was frustrated.
That seems a mild word. There were aspects of him that I feared and hated very much. I saw his obsessions driving out all that had been wild and curious and carefree, and I… there was nothing I could do, as a maia, as a lover– I could not turn back time, and all the love in the world would not heal the wounds he carried.
…If I had rebelled– and it is difficult to determine how I might have done so, as my service to him was voluntary– it would have been to rip away those hateful lights he’d fallen prey to… Would that betrayal bring back what had already burned away? I very much doubt it. However much I longed to have him back, it would have severed the last bond of trust between us, and I could not have born his wrath, or worse, his sorrow, at their loss.
So I did not rebel. I do not think it would have changed matters greatly if I had– except to prove correct those who called me a turncoat without loyalty.
I imagine it felt similar to holding the last vestige of salvation in your remaining hand and having it sink smoldering through the earth, beyond retrieval.
You know what it is like to be beyond all hope, don’t you Noldo? And if you still insist that you clung to some kind of victory in the end, then ask your surviving brother what it is like to lose everything in the world that mattered to you, then face the notion of scratching out a living on this bitter earth for the rest of time.
In any case, what you heard is false. I did not grovel– certainly not before Manwë, at whose feet I have never and will never lay. I did not make it so far as to even glimpse the Undying Lands. I spoke with Eonwë the herald, and as my bond restricts me to the truth, I will tell you that I begged. For what, and on what condition, I am not beholden to reveal. Suffice to say it was denied me, and when I asked what would become of the survivors of Angband, he told me they would be hunted with the same mercy as they had shown their enemies, but as a maia, I and any like me would find our only hope of pardon in the Circle of Doom in Aman.
You have met Eonwë. Surely you remember how sour the pardon of Aman tastes.
I had no intention of ruling– what was there to rule in the wreckage? And by what merit could I hope to replace Melkor? If any hope of rebuilding a haven for my master’s children remained in my heart, it was smothered. There was no hope left for me or any of my kind except revenge; revenge is the last comfort of the defeated, but it can sustain one through many trials– as you know.
And lastly, by your torture we hoped to further demoralize your remaining kin and deepen the fractures in the line of ascension. That is the simplest and most practical justification, and the truth… However, you and I both know my Master had more personal reasons for your humiliation. Can you guess? I presume it was because his victory over your father was a hollow one; it was Feanor he wished to ruin, and being robbed of him, you were the brightest light remaining to the Noldor that he could sully.
And as for me… being unable to lie, I must tell you that beyond my desire to please my Master (and as interrogator, to cut my teeth on a prince of the Noldor), I was curious to dissect you as thoroughly as I was able. You were, and are, a fascinating specimen. I admit at first it was a pleasure to bring low one so cocksure and so proud, yet it was only after you had broken– and once broken, pieced back together all cracks and smolder– that I found you… preoccupying. What I hoped to achieve was the mapping of your contours, the lay of your mind. I have not yet finished.
Melkor: OH that is simple! The Eldar are the very worst dressers! Especially the Noldor. Encrusted in gemstones with no coordination or contrast–! Disgusting! Hmmm, but the elves on the continent are a close second. BORING! And then there are the Vanyar– equally ostentatious and twice as stifled! …I suppose the best dressed would be my acolytes in the Temple of Freedom. It’s a shame I never had a chance to tell them so!
Sauron: ……………………………….Ainur.
Melkor: For which category, beloved?
Sauron: Both.
Of course I was using you to get my way. My way would have been your way. You would have been given freedom once I overthrew the rule of the Valar, but that does not make you my equal. Freedom from Ainur law would not negate the discrepancy of power between us! I am second only to the creator of the universe, and as he has seen fit to abandon us, the only equal I count is my brother.
But neither are you my servant. I have never thought of you as such, nor do I consider you “another Sauron”, whatever that may mean. He serves me because that is his wont– you obey no command except grudgingly. You are a force of nature I would have unleashed against my enemies. Beyond that why would I seek to control what is by nature wild and masterless? Do you not know me better by now?
y’all are trying to lure me back into roleplaying i see how it is
Send me a △ and ask a really invasive question aimed at my character. I’ll rate how much I don’t want to answer on a scale of 1-10. Then answer. || ACCEPTING.
((This one is mildly hard given how very many Mairons there are, and how many I’ve written with. But for the sake of lulz, basing it off of @misbehavingmaiar ’s Sauron.))
Ossë curled his lip and looked away, fins flaring out with discomfort. “What is it with the Children and kissing? You are all so very obsessed,” he deflected, buying time to consider his response. “Physical contact is such a strange thing, and to mash faces? I do not understand why it is considered so exciting. Bad enough you Children do it all the time, worse that many of my brethren enjoy it, as well.”
But he could not put it off forever. “I… No, not Mairon. That form of his was nothing but foul to me, and the craft he performed while wearing it? Disgusting.”
“… But if you speak of the Ainu who bore that name among many others, yes.”
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 