Of course Ji Indur had felt his master approach but when he did finally turn, the wraith’s eyes widened considerably while his jaw dropped. After all his lamenting about how much more regal the Nine and the Dark Lord would have looked in Umbarian garb, he had never thought he’d see the day when the mighty One would actually choose such an outfit.
Stammering something he then hurried towards him, bowing his head, just to stare again. “You..you look splendid, my Lord.” he muttered in a mixture of awe and utter confusion before he gestured to the shore where the Kraken was gently rocking in the waves in the deeper waters. “My..my ship is waiting and ready for you. May I ask what kind of fish you’re after? I’m not exactly well versed in the art of fishing I fear.”
“Excellent! Bring nets! And line! And the longest rope you have, and several glass buoys…” The maia tapped his lips, “…and if it be possible to man the ship yourself without crew, it would be best if we were alone.” He looked to the pale horizon with a crooked grin. “Take me past the reefs to the open sea… be prepared to make a swift getaway; if my mere presence on the water be enough to rouse Lord Ulmo from the depths in wrath, then the Kraken may be put to the test. I am counting on your good relations with my aquatic brethren to buy us enough leeway for my purposes… May I count on you, Ji?” He clapped the wraith on his shoulder, meeting his eyes. “In this I will not force you, but I would much prefer to have you by my side.”
Ossë dove to the very depths of the sea to place his gift in his home for safe-keeping. That completed, he had actual work to be done. Sauron could amuse himself with Children’s toys if he desired, but it would not distract him any longer. There were tides to tend, seas to stir, bergs to ice and bays to balance. And while many were tasks he had been assigned by Ulluboz in ages past, it was pleasant work. It was good to have a purpose in this world.
And it was good to keep busy to avoid obsessing over idiotic and suspiciously self-assured cousins.
Sauron laughs. “Beautiful creature, how unkind you are! Would I might dive after you and share the world of lithe freedom you tease me with. Had I but the form and leave to enter… Ah! An idea.”
And with that, he splashes the water blithely and leaves the pier.
“Do you think, Ošošai, that one such as I could ever brave his opposing element, and see the alarming miracles of the deep? I do not think, in all my years, that I ever dove beneath the surface of the sea. What is it like, below? I have spied such colors and abundance of form in what is brought up in the nets of men– yet the sun filters weakly past the shallows, and creatures make their own fey lights to see by. You have such secrets… and I fear them, for their shapes and ways are utterly foreign to me, yet I know they must be beautiful beyond compare. I could learn much from a look into your realm. How lucky you are!”
Oh, how rude. That is no song, that is a clever entreaty to beg a reply! He knows Ossë too well – sing, recite poetry, give a gift, compliment his spouses, and now express awe at his home. Which, truly, is not so surprising – who would not be mesmerized and enchanted by the sea?
Pride and narcissism war against paranoia and nerves. He is already in his deep-sea fana, all scales and bioluminescence and sleek fins and sharp fangs. Cautiously he slides up, into trickles of light that cannot outshine his own glow, past silvery pale fish that reflect the sun and the surface is in sight. With one agile thrust he leaps from the water– Then regains his senses and twists, diving back down. It is no more than a brief display, a solitary show for mere seconds, and he is gone again.
Sauron laughs. “Beautiful creature, how unkind you are! Would I might dive after you and share the world of lithe freedom you tease me with. Had I but the form and leave to enter… Ah! An idea.”
And with that, he splashes the water blithely and leaves the pier.
“Ah. How lovely…” the great maia purrs in appreciation. He studies the carven wolf with a distant expression, running a thumb over the detailed ridge of its back.
“Do you want me to sing you another song, Cousin?”
Ossë is not that easily tricked. Though he hears the question, he does not acknowledge it, floating and idly ‘pacing’ in lazy circles in the depths. Sauron really did have a lovely voice, and if he chooses to sing again, Ossë can see no harm in listening.
It is, after all, just a song.
“Do you think, Ošošai, that one such as I could ever brave his opposing element, and see the alarming miracles of the deep? I do not think, in all my years, that I ever dove beneath the surface of the sea. What is it like, below? I have spied such colors and abundance of form in what is brought up in the nets of men– yet the sun filters weakly past the shallows, and creatures make their own fey lights to see by. You have such secrets… and I fear them, for their shapes and ways are utterly foreign to me, yet I know they must be beautiful beyond compare. I could learn much from a look into your realm. How lucky you are!”
A box, eroded abalone and barnacle-encrusted, bobs to the surface, trailing baubles of green-gold kelp.
Sauron smiles, places the intricate clasp of his design within the parcel and shuts the resisting lid.
“There you are, cousin. Your elf will splendored above all others, though I still believe he holds your leash impudently short. Do let me know how it looks in his silvered hair, as I doubt very much I will see it in person.”
He rolls up one sleeve and sends the box back into the depths with a surge of bubbles. Shaking the droplets off his skin, he adds “…As I know you will be gnawing your fins over it, I do swear, on my left hand, which you may strike from me if I lie, there is no breath of spell on it, not dormant, not disguised, not overt–” he grins, “So you have no reason to squint your eyes at me from the depths, you mistrustful flounder.”
Ossë snatches the box up and darts it safely into the deeper waters for a closer inspection. It is just as beautiful up close as it was from a distance, delicately crafted but sturdy in design. The perfect accessory for someone who needs to look lordly but likes to do the work of a craftsman. And there is no buzz, no hum, no tingle or itch to suggest the trinket is anything more than what it appears. With a huffed chatter he glances towards the light glimmering from the surface – clearly he is too obvious with his thoughts.
But another mood overtakes him then and he thrums with frustration. This is why he does not like when people label his brethren as ‘bad’ or ‘good’. What use is a label on a spirit that defies it? Is he himself not also an example of a spirit whose work can be presented as ‘evil’, and yet is not himself evil?
Drumming his fingers on the box (in a gesture he learned from his Elves), he closes the hair clasp back inside and takes one last look towards his cousin. He promised not to speak to him, but he does owe him some form of gratitude for the generous gift…
A small piece of driftwood floats towards the pier a short time later. As it gets closer, it gets clearer – it has been carved carefully to take the shape of a wolf, with intricate attention to detail. The work is too precise to have been done by a Child.
“Ah. How lovely…” the great maia purrs in appreciation. He studies the carven wolf with a distant expression, running a thumb over the detailed ridge of its back.
“Do you want me to sing you another song, Cousin?”
Oooh myyy, now there’s a maia… Honey why don’t you ditch that old ball-and-chain and come over the fun side of the force.
Of course you’re in a bubble bath. Why wouldn’t you be in a bubble bath…
He laughs and bares his teeth, slapping the water.
“You old codfish. I can hear you down there, stewing in your predicament. Do you want to give your handsome silver first-age antique a gift in return or not? You need not tell him who made it– what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. It is entirely benign and un-enchanted, as I’m sure you can suss. You know I don’t look half as fine in pearls… I have no use for it otherwise. You technically wouldn’t be speaking to me just by taking it.”
Ossë stills warily, wondering just how obvious his thoughts are to see. Either entirely too obvious, or else he is entirely too predictable.
It is only right he have something for his Elf, after all. And though he will surely be pleased by anything, wood carvings and pearls on rope are becoming old; the Elves on the other shores wear beautiful crafts of Noldorin origin. They look regal and noble, and his Elf has earned such honors far more than they have.
And though Nowë will certainly ask where he got such a thing, he can claim Aȝūlēz had crafted it, or Yaiwë. He can shield his memory of its true origin and just admire the harmless, beautiful present… Though wouldn’t he feel guilty every time he looks at it? And what if there is some spell on it that is simply dormant?
…. Still. It will not hurt to get a closer look at it. He sends up an old, long-forgotten jewelry box, left centuries ago on the sea floor.
A box, made of eroded abalone and encrusted with barnacles, bobs to the surface, trailing baubles of green-gold kelp.
Sauron smiles, places the intricate clasp of his design within the parcel and shuts the resisting lid.
“There you are, cousin. Your elf will splendored above all others, though I still believe he holds your leash impudently short. Do let me know how it looks in his silvered hair, as I doubt very much I will see it in person.”
He rolls up one sleeve and sends the box back into the depths with a surge of bubbles. Shaking the droplets off his skin, he adds “…As I know you will be gnawing your fins over it, I do swear, on my left hand, which you may strike from me if I lie, there is no breath of spell on it, not dormant, not disguised, not overt–” he grins, “So you have no reason to squint your eyes at me from the depths, you mistrustful flounder.”
The Zigûr trails his fingers over the water’s surface, letting the ripples break over his hand and kiss his palm with bright reflections.
“A Child is getting the better of you, my dear. What is one little promised gift in comparison to your freedom? That is not the wily storm-brewer I know…”
What a disappointment. Still, the recitation was lovely enough on its own, he supposes. It was too optimistic and childish to assume the courtship would continue on without some antagonistic remarks; it would almost have been disappointing, even.
Small water spouts sprout playfully, sprinkling water at his cousin. The water beneath his hand darkens and churns, a miniature storm to mock his comment. Because it is a thought that Ossë has already brewed over, and he will not allow his cousin to win this easily (or this soon). The gift will be lovely, and his Elf’s challenge was only for this month – it is not a loss of freedom, surely, just a brief and self-enforced solitude.
He laughs and bares his teeth, slapping the water.
“You old codfish. I can hear you down there, stewing in your predicament. Do you want to give your handsome silver first-age antique a gift in return or not? You need not tell him who made it– what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. It is entirely benign and un-enchanted, as I’m sure you can suss. You know I don’t look half as fine in pearls… I have no use for it otherwise. You technically wouldn’t be speaking to me just by taking it.”
Ossë, once again, listens attentively to the poetry offered to him. And once again, he is careful to not respond. But he can’t stifle the chitter of pleased amusement that ripples through the sea.
Perhaps this challenge is the gift his Elf planned for him? Usually Sauron barely even pays him attention, but since the decision to ignore his cousin, he has been gifted with song and verse and offered trinkets.
If history is to repeat itself, his listening should gift him with another song next.
The Zigûr trails his fingers over the water’s surface, letting the ripples break over his hand and kiss his palm with bright reflections.
“A Child is getting the better of you, my dear. What is one little promised gift in comparison to your freedom? That is not the wily storm-brewer I know…”
“Nevertheless, it is an honor to know you are listening, my silver, slippery cousin. It is a fine but lonely evening, after all. A maia without company will take all the audience he can get.”
Ossë huffs to himself, offended at his own phrase being used against him. Now that is rude.
Though he made a good point. Damn him double. If he just hadn’t reacted at all, Sauron could have potentially thought he was being ignored. But he responded, which indicated he had been listening to the performance… though, Nowë hadn’t said he couldn’t listen…
Still. How insulting to be called out like that. And there was no reaction that would properly show offense without, from a distance, appearing as just another acknowledgement and encouragement. But doing nothing seemed like trying to do what he was expected to do…
How did he always manage to win?!
(So, lacking any appropriately mature and dignified response, Ossë did the only thing that seemed fair: he tossed a soggy, chewed, rotted boot out of the water to smack his cousin in the head.)
“OW–! Cousin, cousin!” Sauron scoffs. “No need for such antics. Perhaps my song was not for you at all, but only to soothe my own soul in these drear times. The sea is most lovely. How grand it must be, to have a medium so plentiful and full of color, rather than lifeless stones and fire…”
He takes a great sigh and leans to better view the sunset. “Forgive me if I sound sentimental, but I do miss older times… it is near the season of gift-giving, and I have no one to share it with, for no one I love lives yet on this earth.”
“Happy are those with lovers to share with! Ah, Ossë… you are wealthy beyond measure, having not one but two spouses to lift your heart! Have you found gifts to give them yet, for the season? Oh, surely you have– with all the bountiful joy in your marriages, you must have already selected a most splendid gift for Cirdan and Uinen! It would be shameful had you not… especially as the one believes you want curbing for bad behavior. I imagine you want him to think well of you.”
Setting down his instrument the maia reached within his robe and withdrew something flashing.
“Alas, it seems I must keep this small fancy I dreamed up yestereve on the full moon… a hair-clasp for some noble head. I can scarce make use of it myself. It is a shame. If I cannot give it to one I love, I wish some other could.”
*sits on the shore with a mandolin, clears throat, and sings a song*
Oh, no. First recitation of poetry, and now he was mimicking the Teleri and singing for him? Oh, Sauron played dirty.
Ossë keened low and closed his eyes, listening to his cousin’s voice, soothing and gentle and reminiscent of the surf as it rose and fell. Surely it was not against Nowë’s rules to listen from afar, after all. He could not control what people sang on a beach. He was innocent!
So deep beneath the waves he floated, fana fading so he could hear better through the sea, and for the duration of the song he was ensnared. But the moment it ended he shook himself and reformed, and realized with a start that he’d drifted much closer than he’d intended.
Damn him! Two could play dirty. With a thought, he sent a wall of water roaring towards his cousin’s perch. If he so loves the oceans this day, he can have them.
“To borrow a phrase: Rude.”
“Nevertheless, it is an honor to know you are listening, my silver, slippery cousin. It is a fine but lonely evening, after all. A maia without company will take all the audience he can get.”
It had been intended as an innocent game to play with the local fishermen, but he had gotten too cocky. It was common sense to check the crew before swimming into a net, but with all that had happened he’d grown lax.
He was already out of the water before he sensed something was off, and he thrashed in surprise when he realized why. Sure, he could just abandon his fana and flee, but that would be seen as a sign of weakness and fear. And Ossë feared nothing at sea.
Glaring and hissing, he stilled and bared his fangs in mute warning. “I make no promises,” he growled, “not to you.”
“Ouh, Ossë! You cut me to the quick! We haven’t seen each other in an Age! Don’t you want to spend an hour or two renewing our timeless friendship? Besides…”
“…Do you want me to cut you down from there or not? I’m happy to leave you hanging out to dry with the rest of the flounders if you’re not in the mood to chat with family.”
OH you must mean my flippers! Very well– but this is the last time I indulge your little weakness, Ossë. Pleasant as it may be to ruffle your gills, next time I will require compensation for my performance… Admire while you can.
It’s not easy to maintain this fana, you know. Water is decidedly not my forte.
Ossë, Ossë, Ossë! I did it specifically to annoy you, of course!
–!!*is zapped by the laws of meme space*–
Ow. Fine. It’s because they’re traditional symbols of power, wealth, and inheritance. They are conveniently sized (mine especially so) and easy to enchant. I could have made twenty scepters of power, or crowns of power, or anvils of power, but those are ostentatious, difficult to conceal, and not easy to carry around.
Rings can be worn in battle and are not seen as a target. Rings are passed from generation to generation. Rings are worn by every race and class of being in nearly all levels of society. And, as you said, people like them. They want to put them on. That was kind of the idea.
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 