forgemaiar:
misbehavingmaiar:
–
“Oh, splendid– I’ll simply have to hunt for you up every river in Middle Earth! That does narrow the search down.”
The smith feigned petulance, but sincerely made note to use his Cousin’s full name in the future. He knew first hand the irritation of being called names not of one’s choosing.
Mitsanár’s captivated examination gave him great satisfaction. It was a recognized weakness of his, a foible he suspected was engrained in him since the beginning; some part of him would always seek to impress, and would chafe at disregard.
“I have no idea. I’ve never seen its like again, and I did not have the luxury of excavating it,” he confessed with regret. “Many things were born out of Melkor’s progenitive chaos, some of which even he was not aware of. Perhaps it was unique, living and dying in secret, only to be discovered as a fossil, preserved in the ice of primeval seas… Who knows,” Sauron shrugged, “but it made for a pretty locket.” He smiled; “Keep it, if you wish. Maybe you can learn more about it than I did.”
Another weakness of his, giving gifts. He did not covet the products of his labor so much as the experience gained in their making, and it pleased him to know others kept artifacts of his; small reminders of his influence turned over in many hands, looked at and admired.
He blinked, finally registering something said full minutes of conversation ago. “…Did you just call me Thoughtful-One?”
“I did not say if water was the only hint… although I did not say if you could ask for more either. Mm, but you can’t stick a waterwheel in any old river, can you? Surely a mind as sharp as your own could narrow it down even farther than that?”
Mitsanár looked up from the clasp and smiled sweetly. Games were a habit as much as a hobby, but he knew if Sauron truly wished to find his workshop it would be just a matter of time. Still, it was more pleasant to play with one who knew the rules better than most. He was curious how quickly the bigger Maia could find it, not only for the game’s sake, but to see how much Sauron had guessed or already knew about him, as well as to see his wit at work firsthand.
And all that aside he’d never mentioned how many places he’d settled in. He liked riverside dwellings in general, but which was the real workshop and which was just another house?
He wouldn’t tell Sauron of course. That would ruin the surprise.
He turned his eyes back to the strange gorgon clasp, watching it stare at him no matter how he tilted the thing. His silent laughter from earlier faded into a thoughtful hum. He stood by his earlier statement that it was creepy; if he kept the gorgon he’d have to hide it from Laume lest it frighten her. “…I wonder if it was frightened to be alone,” he found himself murmuring. He could almost imagine the lines etched into its face built from worry as well as age. Had it known what it was? Where it had come from?
“You know, for all the wandering I’ve done I haven’t really gone exploring. Not properly anyhow. I sort of wish I had, now. Thank you,” he said with another smile as he carefully pocketed the piece. “I’ll be sure to let you know should I learn anything new.”
His smile simultaneously spread and softened as Sauron recognized his nickname. “Mosanwë? Yes I did. It’s a tendency of mine to give names, and I thought you would like it better than naming you after your generous body hair.” He slid part of the smith’s glove down to pat his forearm hair. Oh it was warm! “If you dislike it I can find you another one.”
“I’ve had so many names over the centuries, it seems irresponsible to add to that ponderous list… Of course many of them are less flattering than this one.”
The little Maia suddenly pulling down his glove made him startle and blink with a perplexed expression, but he made no move to pull away. Mitsanár’s warm brown hands seemed impossibly delicate against his arm, pattering up and down like a squirrel on a cedar tree.
“Since I came to Middle Earth I’ve been called Cruel, Abhorred, Foul, Dark, and even Unnamable– I suppose ‘Sauron the Hairy’ is rather a step up from that,” he considered. “What other names would you give to me, Pîn-Caranmîr? For now I’m curious what you think my most noteworthy traits are.”
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 