Tag: Textual Conquests

An unanticipated survival.

salmaganto:

Salgant hadn’t expected to wake up again. He had spent the start of the battle chasing after Tuor, full of the horrified knowledge that he’d just set off a Kinslaying and ensured the death of at least one friend, but neither a crippled leg nor a terrified palfrey lent themselves to speed, and he’d been cornered with only a few members of the Mole and Wing that he’d shouted into rallying together when the walls began falling and the orcs came for them.

Salgant’s men, such as they were, had kept the orcs busy long enough for Salgant to Sing the creatures out of the courtyard they’d found themselves in. Some had even survived the first Balrog’s appearance, he thought, but Salgant’s concentration had become absolute when the second Balrog joined the struggle. The third had been his undoing entirely, and when Salgant’s voice finally gave out, he had seen no other living beings in the destroyed courtyard. Not that he’d had much time to look before he collapsed.

Waking up in the same battered body, rather than the Halls of Mandos, was not in any future he’d anticipated.

A black-clawed foot kicked the elf in his side. 

“On your feet.” The balrog rumbled, filling the cell with the reek of hot metal. She was small for her kind, but still loomed too huge for the scale of the room, crouching and furled and in obvious discomfort.  “UP, you tub of seal-lard, before I drag you out!” 

Beyond the door waited an escort of orc jailers, eyeing the captive with a mix of curiosity and wariness, shackles and a gag at the ready. 

“One note out of you and you’ll have to answer Sauron in writing, because your tongue will be hanging from a hook on my belt, understand?” she hissed, her breath smoking. “To think a little runt like you held off two of my brothers… If they’d been free to join the battle at the Fountain, Gothmog might still be alive. So give me one excuse to kill you on the way up the stairs, ‘hína, and the lieutenant will need to find himself another prisoner to question.” 

She chuckled, and the outline of her jagged grin glowed like the inside of a furnace. “There are a lot of stairs.” 

___

The Pit of the Iron Hells spiraled miles into the earth, half prison, half mine shaft; its stairway chiseled roughly out of the black rock with no regularity or rails to keep one from tumbling into the endless dark. To climb the stairs from top to bottom would take a man a day or more to reach the surface, if he did not rest or tire. The orcs and other guards had ways of ascending vertically by means of pulleys and lifts, but the prisoners working in the deeps made the climb on foot each day, when they were herded back to their cells. 

It was lucky then that Salgant had been held near the surface in one of the less remote dungeons, or Sauron would have been waiting a long time to begin his interrogation. 

When the balrog dumped the minor lord of Gondolin onto the floor of his chamber he noticed the elf was limping, and wondered if that had been a result of the climb or of a less recent injury. 

“Sit, please,” the maia gestured to a chair, giving the balrog a curt nod of dismissal as his guest oriented himself. “That leg of yours must need a rest.” 

The room he’d chosen to meet the unexpected Song master in was ornate and glittering; its walls lined with the polished obsidian ubiquitous to the upper floors of Angband, its sinister fixtures in the shape of serpents and spiderwebs wrought of gold, garnet eyes seeming to wink in the light of the fire which blazed in a maw-shaped hearth. Despite its somewhat grim decor, it was a luxurious change from the pit below and the fortress outside; elegant and impeccably maintained. 

“Our source of intelligence notified us of two Song masters in Gondolin,” he did not say Maeglin, though there could be no other informer. “We were unaware there was a third.” 

Sauron turned to his guest and captive, his tone neither threatening nor plainly read. “You are Lord Salgant of the House of the Harp. I have not heard of you,” he scrutinized the battered elf, crossing his hands behind his back. “Why have I not heard of you?” 

It had taken him a while to tie the now mortal Maia up and drag him along but since Mairon had chosen to be bothersome and uncooperative Ji Indur had finally hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him away. Out of Barad Dûr and to the stables. On horseback they left Mordor, undisturbed by anybody as the wraith had made sure to gag his master and set a cloth bag over his head. Now they were making their way towards the place where Ji Indur’s ship was anchored, awaiting their arrival.

admirable-mairon:

admirable-mairon-moved:

Mairon had exhausted himself rather early on as he tried to fight and didn’t realize how weak a human body is.

He slumped, even dozing off from sheer exhaustion as they traveled on horse-back. Because of this, he didn’t even realize where they were. He could barely hear the waves as his hearing had been muted.

Previous reply here

It took a while for Sauron’s words to sink in properly – for the disgusting meaning behind them to take root in Mairon’s mind. He had been worried before, maybe even afraid – but now he was terrified.
They would doom him to literally rot…! To have his body that was made to be eternal become a rotting, decaying prison. He’d be frail, he’d become worthless, he’d be ugly and rotten, and it terrified him.

It was terrifying for many reasons. Being frail and weak like a kitten was not an experience he enjoyed, and just the thought of being trapped in a body of flesh that was constantly decaying was beyond horrifying.

His vision…!! His many goals…!!!! How was he supposed to be able to get Melkor out of the void if he rotted away in his brother’s tower!? Would he even end up in the void afterwards? Or would he go wherever humans go when they die? Would he ever see Melkor again…?!

“Brother, please…!” he tried, barely more than a whisper, just before Sauron turned to Ji-Indur to free him.

Mairon was pale by now, silent tears trailing down his freckled cheeks as he could barely even feel the pain in his scalp at all. He could feel his bond to Ji being severed – could feel how that part of his fëa was being cut from him, and he gasped, choking and coughing as it felt as if Sauron was tugging at something within his chest – tugging at his very heart.

It was uncomfortable, but not agonizing, and he could handle it.
He had lost Ji – he knew that and there was nothing he could do to get him back. He still didn’t know what it was he had done to make Ji hate him so – He had been a kind master. He had punished him when he disobeyed, of course, but nothing more than that. Ji-Indur had chosen the ring – he had chosen his own fate – Mairon really didn’t think he could be blamed for it at all.

When Ossë spoke directly to him, the amount of his tears increased and he whimpered. How could Ossë use that against him now…!?

“Cousin, please…! I didn’t…! I didn’t know you didn’t want it…!!! You said you forgave me…! You said yes! You spent time with my wolves – with me – you laughed…! You smiled and-and I…! I didn’t know…!!! Please don’t let him…! Please…!! I’m sorry…! I’m sorry! I didn’t know – I swear I didn’t know I hurt you! I only wanted to be good to you, I swear! Don’t do this…!” he begged, until Ossë lowered him and pressed him against Sauron’s chest.

That was when his pleading turned into pure screams of terror. He squirmed and fought, like a cat that was unwilling to be held he twisted and turned in a desperate attempt to escape his brother’s grip. In his terror he reverted from common tongue to valarin – his fear warping his speech into their native tongue.

“Please no! No! You can’t do this! I’m begging you – I’ll do anything!! I didn’t know! I DIDN’T KNOW!!!” he sobbed. “You can’t do this!!! I will atone from my sins in any way you want! Harm me like I did you! Whip me – flay me – I will accept all of it! Eat me alive and crush my body – but I’m begging you not to lock me into a rotting prison of flesh…!!! Please! I must – I can’t – I will never be able to see Master again…! I’m begging you!!!”


@misbehavingmaiar @masteroftheseas @ji-indur

–Ossë’s reply–
–Ji’s reply– 

“Silence!” Receiving the thrashing figure into a vice of an embrace, Sauron bared his teeth at his brother’s ear. “You will see Him again. We will see him together. But it will be I who frees him, not thou.”

It took no more than an instant to restrain Mairon’s trebling hand, corpse-cold and bent like a dying spider; another to slide the gold ring off its crooked finger. 

Fixated on the glittering prize, he replied without sparing the wraith a glance. “Mordor belongs to me now. Your brethren are free in that they may choose to stay and serve me, or resign themselves to a mortal death. Their decision matters little. Their rings are mine, and there will always be more men eager for power.”  

Then his smile flashed white in the darkness. “Thank you, Cousin.” 

The two rings flashed, joined together at their point of contact like a symbol of infinity, then pooled together into One. The burst of light that followed was like the collapse of a star, an explosion of light and a inward surge of pressure so great that for a moment it reversed the tide. 

From the water’s edge, the great fell beast keened and caught its balance as suddenly a scouring wind escaped the vortex, hot as a desert sandstorm that crackled with lightning. Out of the tempest Sauron emerged, seeming larger than before, his stride grander, a feeling of inescapable gravity surrounding him as he walked. 

Exhaling a plume of white steam towards the moon, Sauron shut his eyes as the thrill of having expanded doubly in reach and power caught up with him in a rush of new sensation, an elated laugh bubbling out of him. 

“Incredible,” he gasped, turning his ring-bearing hand over before his eyes, as though he could not comprehend the sight of it. Still marveling at himself he reached down and as if an afterthought, plucked Mairon off the sand, draping him over one arm as though he were no more than a length of damp cloth.

@admirable-mairon @masteroftheseas @ji-indur

It had taken him a while to tie the now mortal Maia up and drag him along but since Mairon had chosen to be bothersome and uncooperative Ji Indur had finally hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him away. Out of Barad Dûr and to the stables. On horseback they left Mordor, undisturbed by anybody as the wraith had made sure to gag his master and set a cloth bag over his head. Now they were making their way towards the place where Ji Indur’s ship was anchored, awaiting their arrival.

ji-indur:

misbehavingmaiar :

admirable-mairon:

admirable-mairon-moved:

Mairon had exhausted himself rather early on as he tried to fight and didn’t realize how weak a human body is.

He slumped, even dozing off from sheer exhaustion as they traveled on horse-back. Because of this, he didn’t even realize where they were. He could barely hear the waves as his hearing had been muted.

He had barely been concious of what was going on around him because of the immense amount of water around him – pushing – flowing – threatening to drag him into the deeps – so in a way he was grateful that Ossë pulled him away from it.

It was painful however – much more painful than it had been when he was a maia – and he couldn’t help but yelp as he was hoisted up like that. His many years with Melkor had taught him to stay quiet most often however, so when Ossë twisted his hand in his hair, he remained silent. He knew how to lessen his pain somewhat, and therefore reached up to take hold of Ossë’s hand. It didn’t do much and he didn’t try to pry him off, but it helped to get some of the weight off his scalp.

He was panting heavily however, as he tried to understand what they were talking about. He didn’t get the details – He didn’t get the exact purpose of either of them – but it was very clear that Sauron would not help him.

Sauron – His brother to whom he had gone to get help in his hour of need – Would hurt him worse than Ossë ever could. No fair judgement… No fair trial…. Just the cruelty the two of them were known for.

“Traitor…!” he hissed at Sauron, before being cut off by how carelessly Ossë handled him. Even if he had planned on saying more things – spewing more accusations at his brother – the abrupt tossing of his fragile body made sure that he couldn’t say anything else.

It was a miracle that his neck didn’t snap (he had done so accidently with more than enough elves and men to know just how little force it took to break bones), but the force still tugged and tore at him. It put great strain on his muscles and nerves, and in some places the skin actually even tore, causing him to bleed.

Overall he was intact, but the physical trauma was still enough to make him whimper.

@ji-indur @masteroftheseas @misbehavingmaiar

———-((Ossë’s reply))

“Traitor?” Sauron laughed. “But I am fulfilling the very letter of my word! I promised you I would protect your life, ensure you came to no harm for the duration of your curse, and so I shall!” He strode over the sand to where Ossë held his sibling prone and kicking in the air, his mewling sweet in the dark lord’s ear.

He grasped Mairon’s narrow chin between gloved thumb and finger, squeezing hard with a creak of leather while his voice dripped honey. “I will take good care of you, brother, for as long as you shall live– and it will be a hundred years at least, I guarantee it,” he smiled. “Long enough for your hair to turn white and recede past your ears, for your skin to sag and turn spotty as old fruit, for all that is taut and smooth to loosen and wrinkle, for your amber eyes to grow dull and cloudy, for your gut to billow and your knees protrude, your back bend and your jowls quiver… Oh, my pretty, pretty brother… don’t worry. I’ll look after you even when you no longer have teeth to chew with, and any attempt you make to end your days before Eru calls you home, I will forestall. You see? I will be keeping my promise to you for years and years to come.”  

He stroked Mairon’s fair cheek. It amused him to see his brother dangle so, like a child’s top in the hands of a storm. His cousin-Maia’s wrath was absolute, terrible as lightning at sea, chilling the air and whipping the surf into a lashing spray. It froze him to the core, but delighted him all the same.

Releasing his brother’s face roughly, he pulled back to address the towering figure of Ossë.

“I swear it,” he said, touching his chest. “And to you, wraith, I swear also: when his power is undone, you will be his servant no longer– nor any other’s. But we must hurry; it fast approaches the hour of the curse’s end.”

He beckoned to the kneeling corsair, one of the nine undead men his brother had enslaved to his power, the mirror of his own magic-bound servants. “You, friend of Ossë,” he urged, “you need not wait to receive your boon. I will give it to you now, as a gesture of good faith. Come, give me your ring-bearing hand, and I will unshackle you from his will.”

@admirable-mairon @ji-indur @masteroftheseas

As they had reached the shore again, Ji Indur stood aside to not get in between the Maiar. He was but a mere mortal, nay even less than that and he knew that while Mairon’s anger could not hurt him right now, Sauron’s and osse’s fury could. And he doubted they would hold back should it come to more than just an exchange of angry words. Watching everything unfold with his master’s fury palpable in the air and yet it being such an empty, helpless fury- it did his heart well but somehow he couldn’t truly enjoy it. 

Too often had he struggled like this, at the receiving end of the Dark Lord’s overpowering will. Out of control and like a puppet on strings. It was a fate he had not wished about anybody else, not even his worst enemy. But was it not Mairon who he hated the most? Was this a fate he wished for Him? To age, to grow old- it had been something the wraith had feared. Enough for him to take that accursed ring. To know that Mairon would suffer the fate he had tried to escape but would suffer it eternally…

Ah, it was odd. His anger had been drowned by the cold water, the flame extinguished and all he felt was a strange sort of pity for what would become of his master should Osse and he accept Sauron’s offer. 

Though was there even a discussion to be had? Of course Sauron was right. Should the Master of the Seas use this moment to end Mairon’s life to take revenge, he would have to pay the price because the Valar would question him for such an act. But to keep Him alive and chained up… Eventually He would regain his powers. And then…

He had been kneeling as matters had gotten heated and now as Sauron called him, beckoning him closer, the Umbarim slowly rose to his feet and approached the Maia. Lifting his hand after removing his gauntlet he revealed the ring that had been stuck on his finger for four thousand years. There was a sudden profound fear. What if it was a trap? What if this was his last moment to be? But Ji Indur knew he could not falter, red eyes meeting golden amber fire as he took a deep breath. 

“Free at last…” he said and was surprised how weak his own voice sounded, filled with fear and disbelief. ‘Tis was…too good to be true, was it not? “Take the ring away from me, I beg you. Let me roam the ocean forever, bound to and by nobody but my own will and the tides of time.” 

@misbehavingmaiar @admirable-mairon @masteroftheseas

On principle, Sauron liked the Men of the East. By nature or perhaps simply by accident of geography, they were largely free of indoctrination by elves or Valar. They had their own way of understanding the world, inclined to explore and study the earth to find answers, weaving their own philosophies from whole cloth. Here was one, he thought, who had drunk deep of the well of life and was loathe to give up its pleasures, even if it had cost him all freedom. It reminded him of a parable of a man who had sold his eyes for a chance to see the world; a sad fate, for one so beloved of the sea. 

Not that he would have spared the man, had it been one of his rings on that finger and not his brother’s. Having a servant who was at once beholden to him and to Ossë, who could navigate the waters without fear of the ocean’s wrath, would be a powerful asset indeed.

Sauron reviewed his own words carefully– had he indeed promised that the corsair would be free of all powers, not only Mairon’s? Yes… damn it all. He had been too quick, too eager to close the deal between them, had not considered every potential gain. 
A loss he would have to accept; if all went as planned, he would still come out ahead in this transaction. 

Taking the salt-weathered hand in his own, he met the wraith’s eyes, whose weariness was so much older than the lined and handsome face that bore them. Time had taken much from him, and that was something it was not in the power of a Maia to return. 

“Free you I shall, but I will not take the ring from you; not if you indeed wish to roam the sea forever,” he explained gently. “But it will be yours to remove, if your eternal life becomes too burdensome.” 

Emerald facets flickered with moonlight. The ring was heavy and lustrous; it felt like wealth that wanted spending, like a laughing voice urging you to stay another hour. It would be difficult to unbind its power without breaking it, and without damaging the spirit it held in thrall. 

In his mind, he held up its mechanism for scrutiny. He could see it’s power, a bright green circuit of light whose coursing energy was fed by a vast wheel of fire. The golden wheel had many such looping tributaries, twisted off from its main body like jeweler’s wire, each taking on a discreet color.
Carefully, he drew the razor of his mind between the green and the gold. He felt like a watchmaker attempting to fix a clock while it was still running. Sparks shot from the point of contact, for great ring fought against the loss of energy, resisted any change in momentum. 

For a moment Sauron feared he would lose control-– but his own ring was equal to his brother’s, and its bright power matched it in speed, forcing stability on the rebelling system. 

 With utmost precision and perfect timing, he twisted off the circuit of green light, giving it a final push so that it continued spinning on its own power, independent of its source. Less bright than before, it nevertheless continued on its separate journey without a flicker. 

Sauron opened his eyes, finding the gold band on his finger glowing white hot, until he released the corsair’s hand. 

“It is done,” he breathed, aware suddenly of sweat on his brow, cooling along with his ring in the night air. He looked to Ossë and the dangling maia in mortal form that was his prisoner, and licked his lips.  “…And now, by your leave and by my Cousin’s, I will take my brother, and bestow on him the fate he deserves.” 

@ji-indur @masteroftheseas @admirable-mairon

It had taken him a while to tie the now mortal Maia up and drag him along but since Mairon had chosen to be bothersome and uncooperative Ji Indur had finally hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him away. Out of Barad Dûr and to the stables. On horseback they left Mordor, undisturbed by anybody as the wraith had made sure to gag his master and set a cloth bag over his head. Now they were making their way towards the place where Ji Indur’s ship was anchored, awaiting their arrival.

admirable-mairon:

admirable-mairon-moved:

Mairon had exhausted himself rather early on as he tried to fight and didn’t realize how weak a human body is.

He slumped, even dozing off from sheer exhaustion as they traveled on horse-back. Because of this, he didn’t even realize where they were. He could barely hear the waves as his hearing had been muted.

He had barely been concious of what was going on around him because of the immense amount of water around him – pushing – flowing – threatening to drag him into the deeps – so in a way he was grateful that Ossë pulled him away from it.

It was painful however – much more painful than it had been when he was a maia – and he couldn’t help but yelp as he was hoisted up like that. His many years with Melkor had taught him to stay quiet most often however, so when Ossë twisted his hand in his hair, he remained silent. He knew how to lessen his pain somewhat, and therefore reached up to take hold of Ossë’s hand. It didn’t do much and he didn’t try to pry him off, but it helped to get some of the weight off his scalp.

He was panting heavily however, as he tried to understand what they were talking about. He didn’t get the details – He didn’t get the exact purpose of either of them – but it was very clear that Sauron would not help him.

Sauron – His brother to whom he had gone to get help in his hour of need – Would hurt him worse than Ossë ever could. No fair judgement… No fair trial…. Just the cruelty the two of them were known for.

“Traitor…!” he hissed at Sauron, before being cut off by how carelessly Ossë handled him. Even if he had planned on saying more things – spewing more accusations at his brother – the abrupt tossing of his fragile body made sure that he couldn’t say anything else.

It was a miracle that his neck didn’t snap (he had done so accidently with more than enough elves and men to know just how little force it took to break bones), but the force still tugged and tore at him. It put great strain on his muscles and nerves, and in some places the skin actually even tore, causing him to bleed.

Overall he was intact, but the physical trauma was still enough to make him whimper.

@ji-indur @masteroftheseas @misbehavingmaiar

———-((Ossë’s reply))

“Traitor?” Sauron laughed. “But I am fulfilling the very letter of my word! I promised you I would protect your life, ensure you came to no harm for the duration of your curse, and so I shall!” He strode over the sand to where Ossë held his sibling prone and kicking in the air, his mewling sweet in the dark lord’s ear.

He grasped Mairon’s narrow chin between gloved thumb and finger, squeezing hard with a creak of leather while his voice dripped honey. “I will take good care of you, brother, for as long as you shall live– and it will be a hundred years at least, I guarantee it,” he smiled. “Long enough for your hair to turn white and recede past your ears, for your skin to sag and turn spotty as old fruit, for all that is taut and smooth to loosen and wrinkle, for your amber eyes to grow dull and cloudy, for your gut to billow and your knees protrude, your back bend and your jowls quiver… Oh, my pretty, pretty brother… don’t worry. I’ll look after you even when you no longer have teeth to chew with, and any attempt you make to end your days before Eru calls you home, I will forestall. You see? I will be keeping my promise to you for years and years to come.”  

He stroked Mairon’s fair cheek. It amused him to see his brother dangle so, like a child’s top in the hands of a storm. His cousin-Maia’s wrath was absolute, terrible as lightning at sea, chilling the air and whipping the surf into a lashing spray. It froze him to the core, but delighted him all the same.

Releasing his brother’s face roughly, he pulled back to address the towering figure of Ossë.

“I swear it,” he said, touching his chest. “And to you, wraith, I swear also: when his power is undone, you will be his servant no longer– nor any other’s. But we must hurry; it fast approaches the hour of the curse’s end.”

He beckoned to the kneeling corsair, one of the nine undead men his brother had enslaved to his power, the mirror of his own magic-bound servants. “You, friend of Ossë,” he urged, “you need not wait to receive your boon. I will give it to you now, as a gesture of good faith. Come, give me your ring-bearing hand, and I will unshackle you from his will.”

@admirable-mairon @ji-indur @masteroftheseas

It had taken him a while to tie the now mortal Maia up and drag him along but since Mairon had chosen to be bothersome and uncooperative Ji Indur had finally hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him away. Out of Barad Dûr and to the stables. On horseback they left Mordor, undisturbed by anybody as the wraith had made sure to gag his master and set a cloth bag over his head. Now they were making their way towards the place where Ji Indur’s ship was anchored, awaiting their arrival.

masteroftheseas:

misbehavingmaiar :

ji-indur:

admirable-mairon :

admirable-mairon-moved:

Mairon had exhausted himself rather early on as he tried to fight and didn’t realize how weak a human body is.

He slumped, even dozing off from sheer exhaustion as they traveled on horse-back. Because of this, he didn’t even realize where they were. He could barely hear the waves as his hearing had been muted.

It was true that he had been terrified to the point of fainting – unconcious and weak in the wraith’s arms – but with all the ruckus going on and the shifting back and forth he couldn’t help but wake up. 

And oh how he wished he hadn’t…. 

He startled and thrashed feebly, but there was no way he could get out of Ji-Indur’s firm grip. The cold numbed him, both from the water and the wraith’s body, but he still managed to jerk weakly in terror as he saw the gathering going on. Ji-Indur with his undead face and toxic breath – Ossë in all of his glory – the OCEAN…. And finally his brother. 

He could have wept in relief.

“Brother…!” He cried out weakly, not even managing the courtesy of greeting his cousin.
“Please brother…! Get me out of here…!” 

 

@ji-indur ( @masteroftheseas , @misbehavingmaiar )

When the Fell Beast appeared, its dark shadow falling over those in the boat and water, Ji Indur lifted his head and his heart sunk. He had not expected Sauron to appear but it was no greater surprise either that the Maia’s brother would come to His rescue. Wood splintered, the rowboat reduced to something that barely floated by sharp claws, the creatures shrill voice even making the injured one hurry up the ladder before collapsing on the wooden planks on board of the Kraken, tended to by two of Ji’s crew while the others watched the scene unfolding with fear and a strange sense of awe. Never before had such a meeting be witnessed, three Maiar and an undead man, bound together through the red string of fate. 

Sauron’s words made the wraith’s lips twitch then turn into a thin line. He knew that escaping these invisible chains was near impossible but to hear it said so brutally made his insides vibrate with anger, hand clamping roughly over Mairon’s mouth as the now mortal Maia stirred and begged for help. “You be quiet, you /filth/.” he hissed into His ear, eyes still glowing darkly, “or by Osse I will drown you here and now as you deserve it, you bastard.” 

And then Sauron spoke of freeing him, of severing those ties for good and Ji Indur eyed him warily, disbelief written all over his face. Oh, how often had he been deceived by the Maia of Aule who was now his wet and helpless prisoner. And Sauron was not much better although he felt more respect for him and not just because he was not bound to His will. But deceivers they both were, likely liars, thorough the centuries they had manipulated and bound foolish men and elves, even other Maiar to them. Why should he now trust Him just because He had said all the right words? 

But for now he listened, quietly, feeling his anger wash over him in waves. Was he being played with again. Looking to Osse he knew that Sauron’s offer to his cousin was one the Master of the Seas would definitely mull over. To watch Mairon grow old and feeble, wrinkled and with graying hair… For one who was so proud of His body, His looks… The wraith knew how much that would hurt. To face the mirror in such an aged withered form every day… Ah, such punishment sounded so sweet in Ji Indur’s ears. Still…

“How can we be sure you will keep your word?” he finally dared to ask, grip on Mairon tightening to show that he would drag him down into the depths should Sauron only lift His finger against them. “Once He is returned to you, you have no reason to follow through with what you promised. And can you really sever the tie? What about my brethren? Will they be free as well? And the orc too?”

@masteroftheseas @admirable-mairon @misbehavingmaiar

“Do neither of you listen?! He is under my protection. I have given him my word I will keep him alive and intact for the duration of this curse! You give him to me, and I assist you both in your vengeance by making sure that curse is permanent: That is the exchange!” Sauron growled with an impatient flick of his hand. 

He ground his teeth and exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose before continuing. “You doubt my intentions. That is understandable. You both think I am here to double-cross you. I assure you: that is not my intent. I am here to double-cross him.” 

Mairon reached for him desperately from the surf in a delirium, his weak pleas for help falling on indifferent ears and a suddenly cold gaze.

“Cousin. He attacked you. He burnt you. He forced himself on you. I cannot, will not, tolerate such disgusting behavior from kin of mine. He has disgraced himself utterly. Please, for the sake of our past friendship, let me do this for you.” 

Red eyes begged the maia of the sea for understanding.  

“If you destroy him yourself in cold blood, in mortal form, it will be you who is dragged before the Valar for judgement! You would risk everything, but I have no more to lose.” Sauron struck his chest over the heart.
 “He and I were born of the same fires, but my powers are intact. They are equal to his at their height. Whatever he has made, I can unmake– only I can give him the fate he truly deserves.” 

Looking to the surf and the drenched body that kicked and squirmed there, looking cold, helpless, slender-limbed, he spat on the ivory sand. 

“…You know his vanity means more to him than his life. Let me take it from him, along with his freedom. It will be my pleasure to do so. That is why I will keep my end of the bargain,” he sneered.  “As for the rest, do as you will. I shall unbind your ring, and beyond that I care not where you, nor any of his rebellious servants, go.” 

An evil expression wrinkled his long, elegant face. “Perhaps I’ll set him in a chair atop Barad-dur. Wouldn’t you like to see that, dear Cousin?” 
 

@masteroftheseas @ji-indur @admirable-mairon

Ossë had been warily on the defense, but at the list of transgressions against him he straightened and flared out his fins in proud display. He had not shared that incident with many, and he did not look to the wraith as his eyes flashed to match the trails of light that danced along his skin. Striding forward in the surf, he bent to grab the mortal-Maia by his hair, lifting Mairon upright and snarling down at him before his gaze turned onto his cousin.

“I was going to chain him to the sea floor and keep him for my amusement, but I know I cannot constantly deal with his struggling and crying,” he rumbled, twisting his hand in the golden hair to make his point. “I was going to take him to the Valar and let them deal justice, where I imagine they would weigh his crimes against the Song and offer a suiting punishment, neither too cruel nor too lax.” He looked down into the face of his fragile foe..

“But I do not want fair justice,” the Ainu continued, lip curling and fangs growing to poke between his lips. “I want vengeance. I want him to suffer,” he hissed, an echo of his voice booming around them all, crashing in with the waves. “I want him to know only agony and misery and fear, and when he cannot take any more of it, I want him to shatter and be thrown into the Void!” Ossë snapped his attentions to Sauron, expression twisted in horrific fury, shadowed and sharp angled and alien, a mockery of the elven-styled face he usually wore. “And I want to watch it happen.”

Thrusting his arm out, he made as though to toss the limp form towards his cousin but didn’t release his grip on silken hair, and Mairon’s body jerked in his hand from the force of the throw. Though it seemed an offering, the distance and frothing water between them warned this was not yet a promise. “I know you get something out of this, cousin, even if you deny it. I am not a fool. But if you swear to me that I shall have my revenge, that my little pirate can once more be freed of another’s control – whatever your share, it is worth my reward.”

@ji-indur @admirable-mairon @misbehavingmaiar

It had taken him a while to tie the now mortal Maia up and drag him along but since Mairon had chosen to be bothersome and uncooperative Ji Indur had finally hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him away. Out of Barad Dûr and to the stables. On horseback they left Mordor, undisturbed by anybody as the wraith had made sure to gag his master and set a cloth bag over his head. Now they were making their way towards the place where Ji Indur’s ship was anchored, awaiting their arrival.

ji-indur:

admirable-mairon :

admirable-mairon-moved:

Mairon had exhausted himself rather early on as he tried to fight and didn’t realize how weak a human body is.

He slumped, even dozing off from sheer exhaustion as they traveled on horse-back. Because of this, he didn’t even realize where they were. He could barely hear the waves as his hearing had been muted.

It was true that he had been terrified to the point of fainting – unconcious and weak in the wraith’s arms – but with all the ruckus going on and the shifting back and forth he couldn’t help but wake up. 

And oh how he wished he hadn’t…. 

He startled and thrashed feebly, but there was no way he could get out of Ji-Indur’s firm grip. The cold numbed him, both from the water and the wraith’s body, but he still managed to jerk weakly in terror as he saw the gathering going on. Ji-Indur with his undead face and toxic breath – Ossë in all of his glory – the OCEAN…. And finally his brother. 

He could have wept in relief.

“Brother…!” He cried out weakly, not even managing the courtesy of greeting his cousin.
“Please brother…! Get me out of here…!” 

 

@ji-indur ( @masteroftheseas , @misbehavingmaiar )

When the Fell Beast appeared, its dark shadow falling over those in the boat and water, Ji Indur lifted his head and his heart sunk. He had not expected Sauron to appear but it was no greater surprise either that the Maia’s brother would come to His rescue. Wood splintered, the rowboat reduced to something that barely floated by sharp claws, the creatures shrill voice even making the injured one hurry up the ladder before collapsing on the wooden planks on board of the Kraken, tended to by two of Ji’s crew while the others watched the scene unfolding with fear and a strange sense of awe. Never before had such a meeting be witnessed, three Maiar and an undead man, bound together through the red string of fate. 

Sauron’s words made the wraith’s lips twitch then turn into a thin line. He knew that escaping these invisible chains was near impossible but to hear it said so brutally made his insides vibrate with anger, hand clamping roughly over Mairon’s mouth as the now mortal Maia stirred and begged for help. “You be quiet, you /filth/.” he hissed into His ear, eyes still glowing darkly, “or by Osse I will drown you here and now as you deserve it, you bastard.” 

And then Sauron spoke of freeing him, of severing those ties for good and Ji Indur eyed him warily, disbelief written all over his face. Oh, how often had he been deceived by the Maia of Aule who was now his wet and helpless prisoner. And Sauron was not much better although he felt more respect for him and not just because he was not bound to His will. But deceivers they both were, likely liars, thorough the centuries they had manipulated and bound foolish men and elves, even other Maiar to them. Why should he now trust Him just because He had said all the right words? 

But for now he listened, quietly, feeling his anger wash over him in waves. Was he being played with again. Looking to Osse he knew that Sauron’s offer to his cousin was one the Master of the Seas would definitely mull over. To watch Mairon grow old and feeble, wrinkled and with graying hair… For one who was so proud of His body, His looks… The wraith knew how much that would hurt. To face the mirror in such an aged withered form every day… Ah, such punishment sounded so sweet in Ji Indur’s ears. Still…

“How can we be sure you will keep your word?” he finally dared to ask, grip on Mairon tightening to show that he would drag him down into the depths should Sauron only lift His finger against them. “Once He is returned to you, you have no reason to follow through with what you promised. And can you really sever the tie? What about my brethren? Will they be free as well? And the orc too?”

@masteroftheseas @admirable-mairon @misbehavingmaiar

“Do neither of you listen?! He is under my protection. I have given him my word I will keep him alive and intact for the duration of this curse! You give him to me, and I assist you both in your vengeance by making sure that curse is permanent: That is the exchange!” Sauron growled with an impatient flick of his hand. 

He ground his teeth and exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose before continuing. “You doubt my intentions. That is understandable. You both think I am here to double-cross you. I assure you: that is not my intent. I am here to double-cross him.” 

Mairon reached for him desperately from the surf in a delirium, his weak pleas for help falling on indifferent ears and a suddenly cold gaze.

“Cousin. He attacked you. He burnt you. He forced himself on you. I cannot, will not, tolerate such disgusting behavior from kin of mine. He has disgraced himself utterly. Please, for the sake of our past friendship, let me do this for you.” 

Red eyes begged the maia of the sea for understanding.  

“If you destroy him yourself in cold blood, in mortal form, it will be you who is dragged before the Valar for judgement! You would risk everything, but I have no more to lose.” Sauron struck his chest over the heart.
 “He and I were born of the same fires, but my powers are intact. They are equal to his at their height. Whatever he has made, I can unmake– only I can give him the fate he truly deserves.” 

Looking to the surf and the drenched body that kicked and squirmed there, looking cold, helpless, slender-limbed, he spat on the ivory sand. 

“…You know his vanity means more to him than his life. Let me take it from him, along with his freedom. It will be my pleasure to do so. That is why I will keep my end of the bargain,” he sneered.  “As for the rest, do as you will. I shall unbind your ring, and beyond that I care not where you, nor any of his rebellious servants, go.” 

An evil expression wrinkled his long, elegant face. “Perhaps I’ll set him in a chair atop Barad-dur. Wouldn’t you like to see that, dear Cousin?” 
 

@masteroftheseas @ji-indur @admirable-mairon

It had taken him a while to tie the now mortal Maia up and drag him along but since Mairon had chosen to be bothersome and uncooperative Ji Indur had finally hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him away. Out of Barad Dûr and to the stables. On horseback they left Mordor, undisturbed by anybody as the wraith had made sure to gag his master and set a cloth bag over his head. Now they were making their way towards the place where Ji Indur’s ship was anchored, awaiting their arrival.

masteroftheseas:

misbehavingmaiar:

ji-indur:

admirable-mairon-moved:

Mairon had exhausted himself rather early on as he tried to fight and didn’t realize how weak a human body is.

He slumped, even dozing off from sheer exhaustion as they traveled on horse-back. Because of this, he didn’t even realize where they were. He could barely hear the waves as his hearing had been muted.

Ji Indur felt Osse’s presence nearing them before he saw the Maia. The water underneath them started to stir and as he looked down into the depths, the bottom so close in the blue green, he notice the massive shape of the Master of the Seas, circling them like a dangerous predator before he broke the surface, causing the Kraken to sway and a wave to wash over man and wraith, almost dragging them under for a moment. The voice reverberated inside Ji Indur’s mind and he bowed his head in a display of respect. 

“I am aware of it, oh mighty Osse and I would not have brought Him under normal circumstances. But the Grey Cloaks struck him with the curse of mortality for three days and I could have ended him there and then and freed myself but alas, it was not up to me to be the first to strike. He is one of the Ainur after all and seeing how He has treated you in the last centuries I decided to bring Jim to you so you can hold council and judge him according to the crimes He has committed against you. I hope you do not see any ill will on my part. Whatever you chose to do, I will accept it as His punishment. And I will not lay hand on him myself unless you tell me to do so.” 

Ji Indur was serious with his words even if it might feel like betrayal to his friends. But he had to believe in Osse to find a punishment suitable for his cousin and to help the Nine -or those willing to- to break their chains. This was the moment where he offered the watery Maia more than just rum and gold- he was offering him his very existence, as terribly corrupted it was. If the Master of the Seas would turn his back on him as well then he knew that none of the higher beings had even a shred of empathy left for what they had created. Of course it was not meant as a test but it could be very well seen like one.

@admirable-mairon @masteroftheseas @misbehavingmaiar

Suspense built in the tableau between wraith and maia, broken by the sound of distant wing beats, a pulsing thrum that grew into the crack of mighty sails as a shadow passed over the moon.

The sailors who had manned the craft bearing Ji and his captive fled splashing into the waves for safety, and a massive fell beast of raven-black scales and iron plate dropped out of the sky. The ship’s boat splintered under its claws where it landed, folding its wide, dark wings. 
As if patiently awaiting instruction, the feel beast watched its master dismount with cold white eyes, sliding off its back saddle to the ground.  
The rider approached, removing his flight mask, a tarnished red hammer slung at one hip, a silver-tipped nine-tails on the other. 

“Cousin, we beg your pardon for the sudden intrusion,” Sauron addressed Ossë with an inclination of his head. “But it seems you are discussing the fate of one I have already laid claim to. The mortal you have half-submerged there at your feet is currently under my protection.” 

He looked from the towering figure in the sea to the corsair kneeling at the water’s edge, and gave half a chuckle. “Ji-Indur. Why am I not surprised by your treachery? I wondered who had managed to smuggle him out from my own fortress… it was a short list of those capable.” 

Sauron tucked the black riding mask under one arm and smiled graciously at the wary gathering. “I understand that you both have significant grievances with my brother-self, and while he is in this… delicate, mortal condition, it would be a unique opportunity for you to seek retribution. I respect this. And though I cannot allow you to kill or maul him while under my protection, I am willing to strike a bargain.”

Moonlight glinted off a heavy ring on the hand that stretched out in offering, its twin around Mairon’s finger, limp and drifting in the wave swell. Sauron smiled, and gestured first to Ji.

“Wraith, your allegiance to my brother has long troubled you. If you kill him in this state, it is likely you will remain bound to his Ring and any remnant of his will, or else destroyed outright with his passing… An uncomfortable way to spend eternity, no?” He laughed. “Perhaps you will consider letting me sever the tie between your ring and his. Only I can do this for you, with a power of equal might to the original bond. You would live on, immortal and retaining some small amount of insight beyond the world of men, free of his manipulation, invisible to his eye, even if he returns to power.” 

“…And you, Cousin,” Sauron shifted, lowering his gaze briefly in respect, “you of all here have the most claim to vengeance. You wish to see him suffer for his crimes, do you not? A mere moment of satisfaction, even if that moment is a long one, would not suffice.” His eyes glowed in the grave light of the moon, colorless and sharp. “To you I offer a lifetime of his suffering. Miserable, weak, aging into grey hair, sallow skin, and sagging flesh, trembling hands and feeble limbs, powerless to do harm to you or yours ever again.” 

The lord of Mordor spread his hands. “Return him to me, and these shall be my gifts to you. Do we have an agreement?”   

Ossë rumbled at the wraith’s words, his gaze transfixed on the limp, mortal shell that held his enemy bound in the surf. If any had the right to be bitter and vengeful, it was the wraith, the little pirate king who had been so free and so bold and bright, who had been chained and broken and forced to become a puppet for a lord of fire and rock. Yet here he had come, taking the fragile Maia and dragging him before another for judgment and destruction.

Oh, he surged into the choppy waters and burst forth again, foaming waters gathering around him eagerly. A dozen punishments, a hundred ideas for torment sprung into his mind – mortal flesh was full of mortal blood, which could be boiled or frozen or pulled from every opening in his body. He could repay his cousin’s ‘gifts’ a dozen times, a hundred times, a thousand times over! Even when Mairon regained his ‘strength’ he would be nothing in the Sea, nothing in the seat of Terror’s power.

But before he could respond, he felt another presence overhead and as Sauron came crashing down nearby, he sent the sea crashing higher up the coast and coiled protectively around the wraith and his guest. He knew that Sauron would be here for only one reason, and he was not about to see his prize stolen from him so swiftly.

“You say you will strike a bargain, yet I have not heard what you expect in return for your generosity. You will free the little pirate and give me a lifetime to watch him suffer – and what, I wonder, do you want in return? This seems too obvious, cousin, are you losing your touch? He is under your protection; you merely want us to rest our case and let you save his miserable, pathetic hide. You will not have him!”

((reblogging for context because the reply got snipped)) 

It had taken him a while to tie the now mortal Maia up and drag him along but since Mairon had chosen to be bothersome and uncooperative Ji Indur had finally hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him away. Out of Barad Dûr and to the stables. On horseback they left Mordor, undisturbed by anybody as the wraith had made sure to gag his master and set a cloth bag over his head. Now they were making their way towards the place where Ji Indur’s ship was anchored, awaiting their arrival.

ji-indur:

masteroftheseas :

admirable-mairon-moved:

Mairon had exhausted himself rather early on as he tried to fight and didn’t realize how weak a human body is.

He slumped, even dozing off from sheer exhaustion as they traveled on horse-back. Because of this, he didn’t even realize where they were. He could barely hear the waves as his hearing had been muted.

He knew of his cousin’s plight, and it was with fierce restraint that he had stayed in the deeps during Marion’s period of weakness. After the pain and humiliation he had suffered, he did not know if he would be able to resist the temptation to inflict equal devastation on the mortal mockery of the Maia. So he hid himself away for his own safety.

Until he felt the icy shadow that blackened the surface, the familiar swagger of Ji Indur darkened by the power and rage of his ring, and a very familiar essence with him. He may have avoided the battle, but the battle did not avoid him. Hearing his name bellowed, he gave up the resistance – surely he could not be blamed for defending his home, his charge, his realm.

Surging towards the point of conflict, he appeared as a scaled behemoth of his usual self, every bit the Terror his legends warned. His eyes flashed as he circled the floating guests, tail caging them in as he fixed his gaze on the limp offering. “Why do you bring him here? His presence is not welcome in my home,” he rumbled, scowling.

@ji-indur @admirable-mairon

Ji Indur felt Osse’s presence nearing them before he saw the Maia. The water underneath them started to stir and as he looked down into the depths, the bottom so close in the blue green, he notice the massive shape of the Master of the Seas, circling them like a dangerous predator before he broke the surface, causing the Kraken to sway and a wave to wash over man and wraith, almost dragging them under for a moment. The voice reverberated inside Ji Indur’s mind and he bowed his head in a display of respect. 

“I am aware of it, oh mighty Osse and I would not have brought Him under normal circumstances. But the Grey Cloaks struck him with the curse of mortality for three days and I could have ended him there and then and freed myself but alas, it was not up to me to be the first to strike. He is one of the Ainur after all and seeing how He has treated you in the last centuries I decided to bring Jim to you so you can hold council and judge him according to the crimes He has committed against you. I hope you do not see any ill will on my part. Whatever you chose to do, I will accept it as His punishment. And I will not lay hand on him myself unless you tell me to do so.” 

Ji Indur was serious with his words even if it might feel like betrayal to his friends. But he had to believe in Osse to find a punishment suitable for his cousin and to help the Nine -or those willing to- to break their chains. This was the moment where he offered the watery Maia more than just rum and gold- he was offering him his very existence, as terribly corrupted it was. If the Master of the Seas would turn his back on him as well then he knew that none of the higher beings had even a shred of empathy left for what they had created. Of course it was not meant as a test but it could be very well seen like one.

@admirable-mairon @masteroftheseas @misbehavingmaiar

Suspense built in the tableau between wraith and maia, broken by the sound of distant wing beats, a pulsing thrum that grew into the crack of mighty sails as a shadow passed over the moon.

The sailors who had manned the craft bearing Ji and his captive fled splashing into the waves for safety, and a massive fell beast of raven-black scales and iron plate dropped out of the sky. The ship’s boat splintered under its claws where it landed, folding its wide, dark wings. 
As if patiently awaiting instruction, the feel beast watched its master dismount with cold white eyes, sliding off its back saddle to the ground.  
The rider approached, removing his flight mask, a tarnished red hammer slung at one hip, a silver-tipped nine-tails on the other. 

“Cousin, we beg your pardon for the sudden intrusion,” Sauron addressed Ossë with an inclination of his head. “But it seems you are discussing the fate of one I have already laid claim to. The mortal you have half-submerged there at your feet is currently under my protection.” 

He looked from the towering figure in the sea to the corsair kneeling at the water’s edge, and gave half a chuckle. “Ji-Indur. Why am I not surprised by your treachery? I wondered who had managed to smuggle him out from my own fortress… it was a short list of those capable.” 

Sauron tucked the black riding mask under one arm and smiled graciously at the wary gathering. “I understand that you both have significant grievances with my brother-self, and while he is in this… delicate, mortal condition, it would be a unique opportunity for you to seek retribution. I respect this. And though I cannot allow you to kill or maul him while under my protection, I am willing to strike a bargain.”

Moonlight glinted off a heavy ring on the hand that stretched out in offering, its twin around Mairon’s finger, limp and drifting in the wave swell. Sauron smiled, and gestured first to Ji.

“Wraith, your allegiance to my brother has long troubled you. If you kill him in this state, it is likely you will remain bound to his Ring and any remnant of his will, or else destroyed outright with his passing… An uncomfortable way to spend eternity, no?” He laughed. “Perhaps you will consider letting me sever the tie between your ring and his. Only I can do this for you, with a power of equal might to the original bond. You would live on, immortal and retaining some small amount of insight beyond the world of men, free of his manipulation, invisible to his eye, even if he returns to power.” 

“…And you, Cousin,” Sauron shifted, lowering his gaze briefly in respect, “you of all here have the most claim to vengeance. You wish to see him suffer for his crimes, do you not? A mere moment of satisfaction, even if that moment is a long one, would not suffice.” His eyes glowed in the grave light of the moon, colorless and sharp. “To you I offer a lifetime of his suffering. Miserable, weak, aging into grey hair, sallow skin, and sagging flesh, trembling hands and feeble limbs, powerless to do harm to you or yours ever again.” 

The lord of Mordor spread his hands. “Return him to me, and these shall be my gifts to you. Do we have an agreement?”   

It had taken him a while to tie the now mortal Maia up and drag him along but since Mairon had chosen to be bothersome and uncooperative Ji Indur had finally hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him away. Out of Barad Dûr and to the stables. On horseback they left Mordor, undisturbed by anybody as the wraith had made sure to gag his master and set a cloth bag over his head. Now they were making their way towards the place where Ji Indur’s ship was anchored, awaiting their arrival.

masteroftheseas:

ji-indur:

admirable-mairon :

admirable-mairon-moved:

Mairon had exhausted himself rather early on as he tried to fight and didn’t realize how weak a human body is.

He slumped, even dozing off from sheer exhaustion as they traveled on horse-back. Because of this, he didn’t even realize where they were. He could barely hear the waves as his hearing had been muted.

The moment they fell into the ocean, Mairon stopped listening. He couldn’t – his terror deafened everything out.

He panicked, unable to even scream as he became white as a sheet. Ji’s freezing aura didn’t help as Mairon tried to weakly claw his way out of Ji’s grasp….

He was dunked in water.

And he was out. Limp as a corpse.

@masteroftheseas ( @ji-indur )

Even if he had expected a fearful reaction, this was overwhelming him with its sheer magnitude. To have the Maia suddenly unresponsive and limp in his arms made Ji Indur pause and refrain from dunking him any further. In the meantime the corsair who had been tossed into the ocean as well had joined him while the stabbed one had been helped on board where he had been bandaged with the hope he might recover. 

What should he do now? Ji Indur was uncertain. To bring Mairon on board of his ship after he had wounded one of his men seemed like an unwise decision though they would not harm him against their captain’s wish. But to remain in the cold water with a man who was more corpse than living being…? With Osse nowhere to be seen, Ji Indur had to make a decision and he had to make it fast. 

@admirable-mairon @masteroftheseas

He knew of his cousin’s plight, and it was with fierce restraint that he had stayed in the deeps during Marion’s period of weakness. After the pain and humiliation he had suffered, he did not know if he would be able to resist the temptation to inflict equal devastation on the mortal mockery of the Maia. So he hid himself away for his own safety.

Until he felt the icy shadow that blackened the surface, the familiar swagger of Ji Indur darkened by the power and rage of his ring, and a very familiar essence with him. He may have avoided the battle, but the battle did not avoid him. Hearing his name bellowed, he gave up the resistance – surely he could not be blamed for defending his home, his charge, his realm.

Surging towards the point of conflict, he appeared as a scaled behemoth of his usual self, every bit the Terror his legends warned. His eyes flashed as he circled the floating guests, tail caging them in as he fixed his gaze on the limp offering. “Why do you bring him here? His presence is not welcome in my home,” he rumbled, scowling.

@ji-indur @admirable-mairon

It had taken him a while to tie the now mortal Maia up and drag him along but since Mairon had chosen to be bothersome and uncooperative Ji Indur had finally hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him away. Out of Barad Dûr and to the stables. On horseback they left Mordor, undisturbed by anybody as the wraith had made sure to gag his master and set a cloth bag over his head. Now they were making their way towards the place where Ji Indur’s ship was anchored, awaiting their arrival.

ji-indur:

admirable-mairon :

admirable-mairon-moved:

Mairon had exhausted himself rather early on as he tried to fight and didn’t realize how weak a human body is.

He slumped, even dozing off from sheer exhaustion as they traveled on horse-back. Because of this, he didn’t even realize where they were. He could barely hear the waves as his hearing had been muted.

“The way YOU were treated?!” He screeched in disbelief, torn between rage and fear at this point. 

“I have been lenient with you! I have allowed you your ship and crew – I have allowed you to keep worshipping Ossë – I have only lashed out at you when you personally insulted Melkor! I have fucking let you into my bed, you traitor!!!
YOU took the ring! YOU willingly joined yourself with me! You swore your loyalty to me!!”

As his hands were released, he refused to go on board still. Instead he moved backwards swiftly, knocking one of the men into the sea, and snatched a dagger from the other, elbowing him in the face before digging it into his stomach.

He still had a lot of fight in Himself, most likely out of fear and panic, the ocean not being His element. Still Ji Indur had not expected an attack like this one. Instead he heard a splash and was too late to stop Mairon from stabbing the other corsair in the stomach. With an angry shout he threw himself at the now mortal Maia and both tumbled over the edge and into the cold water. Trying to grab him tightly and keep him from using the dagger on him another time after what had happened in the throne room, Ji Indur’s aura was flaring him, the dreadful cold even felt on board of the Kraken. 

“Lenient because you left me with something that would just be a matter of compassion and decency? Something that is hardly extraordinary? And you are trying to tell me you made me a gracious gift by giving me what was rightfully mine? I was a sailor from the beginning and I had been willing to ride the waves on your behalf. But that is not even the point. You turned me into this monstrous being! Yes, I took the ring! Yes I joined willingly at first. Until I realized you had lied to me! Deceiver! You have always been like that! Annatar the giver of gifts! What happened to Celebrimbor? Did you deceive him out of the goodness of your heart? You are a snake!” 

He tried to dunk the Maia-now-man a few times, before calling out for the Master of the Seas. 

“Osse! Osse!”

@admirable-mairon @masteroftheseas

“Who the hell are you?” The blonde asked, standing in the doorway of the forge. Her cousin was missing, but perhaps Celebrimbor was doing something in his study instead of the forge. He had other lordly things to do after all.(Twilightblossom)(For Sauron)

twilightblossom:

misbehavingmaiar:

twilightblossom:

misbehavingmaiar:

misbehavingmaiar:

“Oh! Pardon, milady, I did not realize I had company so early…” the stranger tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe and made a short bow.

 “It’s been a season since my introduction at the Midsummer banquet– my travels have made me scarce lately, and no doubt there are many who are wondering exactly who this odd Vanyar fellow mucking about in the forges is! I am a teacher here, by leave of Lord Tyelperinquar– with whom I am meant to be meeting today, in his forge, where we shall begin our lesson. Which is why you find me here, ah, unaccompanied…  ” He laughed, warm and slightly sheepish.

  “I promise you, I am no burglar. My name is Annatar, called Aulendil. I had to see with my own eyes the great university I’d heard tell of. I know of no other place on earth but Eregion where so much knowledge and talent can be shared between so many; elf, dwarrow, and man alike! Ah, you see, I am already quite in love with this kingdom, my words are agush, do forgive me. What might your name be, dear lady?” 

[snip]
The forgemaster drew back his venerable head, mouth shaped into a silent “o”.

“I see! A true daughter of the Noldor indeed! I don’t doubt you have a backbone of steel. But these are happily more peaceable times, and I hope very much that those of us–” he inclined his palm, deferring to her, “or rather, those of you, who took the brunt of the continental wars, can rest, and ease your minds from such desperate thoughts.” He smiled, crooked but kindly. “Noldor… Always so hot-headed and willing to leap towards extremes… Tyelpe is often the same way.  It makes him bold and tireless and in many ways I find it admirable… but I confess, it is a frustrating tendency! Perhaps it is naive of me, but this place makes me believe we can build a future where youngsters like yourself will never again have to consider whether or not they would die by the sword.” 

He held out an arm, muscles beneath the soft cream robe as hard and round as a tree trunk– a smith’s arm, to be sure– and gestured invitingly that the elleth might take it. “Lead the way, milady. If my tardy pupil arrives while we are away, he will just have to wait for our return.” 

“As my mother would say, or I suppose quote, ‘There is always a calm before the storm’.” She replied evenly, if not coldy. The blonde did not comment further to his words, feeling that they had somehow struck a nerve. The Noldor….they were a passionate people, and the Vanya before her was perhaps not to fond of her family. However very few were fond of her family considering the crimes that her father and uncles had committed. Crimes that seemed to placed upon her and Tyelpë’s heads more often then not.

Lothuialneth took the smith’s arm, and led him away from the forge. “He’ll probably work on something while we’re away.” She murmured. “I doubt he will be bored. Now where have you been in the city? Or have you simply been about Tyelpë?”

Aulendil laughed abruptly. “I have indeed been dogging your outrageous cousin since I arrived! He is a whirlwind of kingly duties and maddening genius– I feel I’ve simply been dragged along in his wake. I dare say it has been an immensely demanding friendship, and rewarding beyond measure. But…” he rolled his shoulders in a shrug “…the only parts of the city I am deeply familiar with at this time are the roads from the palace to the university and from there to the forges.” 

As they walked the smith took note of his companion’s brittle expression, and his smile became less merry and more sympathetic. “I fear I have offended you, my lady. It is an unfortunate truth about me: my sentiments are too Vanyarin for the Noldor, and too Noldorin for the Vanyar! I am an odd sort of fish out of water wherever I go, and my travels have been far and wide… But know that whatever my manners, I consider Tyelpe to be a friend, and his forefathers to be masters of their craft. I know the wars left great rifts between our peoples. I know too that there were no simple roads to justice nor to peace. Who knows if the means justified the ends on any side.” His eyes turned to the path ahead, harder than they had been. “There were no victors of the Wars of Wrath… No party without a valid motivation, and no innocents.”

Closing the door to the forges behind them, he sighed. “All the more reason to move forward, no? Look what we can create in a city where all the speaking peoples work together… behind us the past is dim with pain, but the future shines brighter than Aman.” He stepped briskly into the morning light with the elfin lady on his arm.  “But enough pontificating! Tell me what occupies you here in the city– and how do you manage such precocious kin?” 

@twilightblossom

“I do not usually occupy myself in the city.” She replied quietly. “All the stone, and walls actually tend to make me feel a bit…..closed in. My mother was very close to nature, and I spent much of my time with her when I was growing. Tyelpë and I are rather differently in the respect of interest.“ To be far, her mother was a Maia, and even if she had stayed in Aman it was not only her influence that had led to her love of nature. Her father had nurtured that love as well. “I suppose it rubbed off…my mother’s love of nature and it’s creatures.”

No victors? Morgoth had in some measure in her mind. He held the Silmarils til the Valar intervened. He tortured her uncle. He had a great many victories, and her heart swelled with anger as they walked even though the emotion never made it to her face. “Perhaps not.” She replied after a moment. “No, but innocents were murdered in that war. Women and children who had done little to deserve the ending dealt to them. Yes, those that took part of the kinslayings are guilty of that atrocity, but those actions should not define their descendants.” She remembered the Doom well. It damned their whole line. Was she innpcent of killing kin? No, and she would never claim it, but it was once she was young, and terrified. Their parents had told them to stay put, but in the chaos that ensued she was left with a choice: her own life, or the life of this one elf that decided that taking barely of age elves, grandchildren of Feanor, would help. Truly had either of them been slaughtered she imagined the First Age to be far worse then it had been. “Nor should it condemn them.”

“Tyelpe is hard to follow. Sometimes it seems mad, but truly what he creates is beautiful.” Lothuialneth knew quite well that Her Uncle would be proud of his son. However, sometimes she questioned if her own father would be. If he and her mother would understand her choices in the end. “You have hit an old wound. But enough talk of sadness, how about I take you to the stables, hmmm? Surely, even a smith needs to know where to keep his horse, yes?”

As Mormiriel spoke of the toll the war had taken on innocents, Aulendil looked as if he might make retort, but he closed his lips over bitten teeth, and the spark of emotion–anger? bitterness? grief?– that lit his face quickly cooled. “Yes, the losses on all sides were…” 

He shook his head. “…Would you believe, I haven’t had a horse since I left Dunland!” he laughed flatly, “I left my last steed crossing the Glanduin and took the rest of the road by foot. So of your no doubt inestimable stables, I am also ignorant. You have your work cut out for you, milady; we can begin there, and then, perhaps, you can introduce me to a venue wherein I may procure some breakfast?” 

Her first thought was that she would need something far more comfortable then her current attire, but then anything was better then a dress. “I could make you something if you like.” She offered quietly after a moment. “I can show you some places later on where you can get something yourself.” She often made her own food anyway. She always arrived late into the evening or too early for anyone to be up for it to be otherwise.

“Besides food what would you be interested to see? You’ve been to the forges, obviously, so you know where those are.” She was trying to be a good hostess, which were shoes not often filled by her. Tyelpe was better the diplomacy then she was, he was a lord after all, and she had always been a child of the wood. Given her parents, it wasn’t surprising really. “We can go to what interests you more, and then go to whatever is left.”

“My lady! That would be exceedingly kind of you…” he pressed a hand to his chest in a bow that put him level with her eyes. “I’d be honored to breakfast under your roof, if it is no imposition.”  
He searched her face as he unbent, sensing she was new to playing host, and nervous. He smiled, and gave her a quick wink.  
 “I’ve been suffering the hospitality of the dunendlings for months. I promise you, a slice of fresh bread and some tea would seem like a king’s banquet to me. You can do no wrong.” 

Sunlight began to crest over the red sloping rooftops of the city, steam rising from the stone streets as the frost that had accumulated overnight melted off into the gutters. No one but bakers and students with dark circles under their eyes stirred in the market square.

“…Such peace…” Aulendil sighed, a white cloud rising into the air. “I know your cousin would do anything to make it last.  Let us hope he succeeds.” Turning to his guide, he clicked his tongue; “…The library! That’s what I wish to see first and most of all. I hear its only rival lies in far Umbar. I’d love to compare them for myself. What do you say to that, Lady Mormiriel?” 

A Hidden Shrine

elf-and-iron:

“Father, all the Arts have their patron but this one.”

Oropher raised an eyebrow at his son, and a shadow creased his smile. “Do you not give your thanks to Aulë when the wire bends true, and mere metal becomes a song in the hand?”

“Of course,” said Thranduil, but he was a perceptive boy, and he saw the shape of something he was not being told.

~

The boy, bending wire into spiraling baubles, became a youth; the youth began to learn the arts of fire, and mere baubles became gleaming jewels, more suitable for wear than for dangling to adorn a window’s arch. He wore them in deliberate contrast to stark and elegant Oropher, and when he ran and danced with the other youth of Nivrim, often the chime of metal on metal accompanied him.

Still, the thought did not leave his mind that all other Arts had a patron; that all other patrons had a shrine, be it Aulë’s grotto tucked away beneath the roots of the greatest oak, or the open, living structure of intertwined trees dedicated to Elbereth herself. Aulë was the master of all crafts, yes – but in his shrine were the loom and the brush, the chisel and the potter’s wheel. The forge was conspicuous by its absence.

Still he could not find the answer; still the shape of something hidden teased at his mind. Asking bore no fruit, for the elder Elves merely frowned and asked why he wanted to know; pushing for an answer received only his mother’s gentle remonstrance, and an overheard argument wherein she wanted to tell him… whatever it was… and Oropher did not. “He is still too young,” Thranduil heard, and he clenched his teeth and crept away silently through the branches. He did not hear “I do not want to burden him yet,” nor did he hear “Our little wild thing will fly to the forbidden, so best we do not forbid.”

None the less, he was drawn to the vacuum, and in a surge of great feeling he ran. Down the boughs, into the carved and ornate cave that served his family as home, flying like the deer before the hounds. He took up his tools, and took a great breath, and ran again.

Past his own room, half sheltered in stone and half shaded by great trees, and out into the forest, to a place he and few others knew, he darted. It was a quiet limestone hollow, its entrance a low arch crowded by unshaped roots and hidden beneath an exuberant spray of flowering canes. A hollow in the trunk above let in light, filtered by leaves.

Inside was a low bench, crafted of twisted wood and carefully planed and polished. He swept aside the few bits of wire that adorned it.

What did a shrine need? Open space – the oak wood had that aplenty, and this little chamber had some of its own. Quiet seclusion – that was here also. And something to direct the mind, to focus the thoughts. To guide the work.

Thranduil knew not what he was focusing on, save that he felt keenly the lack of something to which to dedicate himself. Yet, he had a thought, and in careful secrecy he assembled it.

A ceramic tray, blackened from the fire below and glossed irregular white with flux above; a hammer, a delicate thing with a handle of silvery wood; a pair of copper tongs, impeccably clean, but their tips rainbowed with heat. Last, a single unburnt rod of charcoal, still showing the texture of the bare wood it had once been.

At last the youth arranged the tools upon the tray, blew out a breath he hadn’t realized he held, and sat back.

He contemplated his work for a short time, smiled, and took out a hair-fine wire, and a tiny glittering stone to spin upon it, to craft an earring. This was no place for hot work, not yet- but it could be, and perhaps it would.

In all innocence, he sat and worked his project, in contemplation of his new shrine to the Maia of the Forge.

It began like an itch, something tickling up the spine. 
There was little to do in the darkness of the keep but wait, patient as a stone, for scouts and messengers to bring tidings from afield. The sensation burned brighter in the absence of distraction. 

The throne room was cold. The castle was empty of servants to tend and maintain it. The marshland air was damp and the wet crept up every wall and grew on every tapestry. Wolves gnawed bones in the courtyard and orcs patrolled he halls. 
With a sudden intake of breath, Thû was filled with a sudden longing for heat, for the ringing of metal; cold ashes swirled in the dead fireplace and he ached to set it ablaze. What was it that had snuck into his brain like a gadfly? And why did his exile to this wet, chilly island feel so especially unbearable today?

The smithy here was pitiful; a peasant’s excuse for an anvil rusted unused in the  abandoned court. Who stoked the fires in the Great Forge in Angband, now that he was gone? Was his workplace too gathering dust, abandoned now that he’d been dubiously ‘promoted’? 
Unbidden his heart recalled the rush of ignition, the oxygen-devouring inferno, the shimmer of convection and the white heat of molten ore. He remembered his forge– not at the heart of Thangorodrim, nor even Utumno, but farther back in the reach of his past; a place he’d tried to forget, the memories interlocked with the sight of familiar red hands, rough as sandstone, guiding him, offering support and direction.

Thû closed his eyes, growling with a shake of his head that sent stray guard-wolves cowering. Behind his eyes, he sought the source of this irritation, isolated it to a single point. And as he focused upon it, it grew; like a knock at the door, like a stranger calling his name. 

 He was not accustomed to being the recipient of prayer. He was not like Ossë, to whom the Falathrim built shrines, who sailors praised and offered supplication. Nor was he Melian, whose name was thanked day and night by those she sheltered, lending her strength. He was The Cruel, The Abhorrent; loved by none save those as removed from the Valar’s light as himself, and that had been the nature of his existence since before the first elf opened their eyes to see the stars. 
That was perhaps why the feeling took him by surprise, why the faint brush of acknowledgement against the walls of his spirit eluded naming. 

But whatever it was, it had a child’s voice. And it came from just beyond the border of Melian’s Girdle, on the edge between forest and fen.  

It was a long, long way from Tol Sirion as men might travel. But for a spirit unclad, it was a short journey, and in a grove shaped by water and stone and root, he found the source of his peculiar, gentle torment. 

He moved without shape, without sound, and watched the oak-dark fall of hair over delicate shoulders stooped in concentration, observed the silverwood hammer, to tongs, the tools of his trade set into a hasty-made shrine, built with both impudence and sincerity. And the little nut-brown prince, all fawn-limbs and intense eyes, whose nimble fingers bent jewelry out of spider-silk wire, attentive yet carefree. 

Curiosity moved him more powerfully than caution or cunning. 

“Boy,” he asked, moving the air with thought rather than sound, “what are you doing? Why do you build to me, whose name you do not even know?”

“Who the hell are you?” The blonde asked, standing in the doorway of the forge. Her cousin was missing, but perhaps Celebrimbor was doing something in his study instead of the forge. He had other lordly things to do after all.(Twilightblossom)(For Sauron)

twilightblossom:

misbehavingmaiar:

twilightblossom:

misbehavingmaiar:

twilightblossom:

misbehavingmaiar:

twilightblossom:

misbehavingmaiar:

“Oh! Pardon, milady, I did not realize I had company so early…” the stranger tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe and made a short bow.

 “It’s been a season since my introduction at the Midsummer banquet– my travels have made me scarce lately, and no doubt there are many who are wondering exactly who this odd Vanyar fellow mucking about in the forges is! I am a teacher here, by leave of Lord Tyelperinquar– with whom I am meant to be meeting today, in his forge, where we shall begin our lesson. Which is why you find me here, ah, unaccompanied…  ” He laughed, warm and slightly sheepish.

  “I promise you, I am no burglar. My name is Annatar, called Aulendil. I had to see with my own eyes the great university I’d heard tell of. I know of no other place on earth but Eregion where so much knowledge and talent can be shared between so many; elf, dwarrow, and man alike! Ah, you see, I am already quite in love with this kingdom, my words are agush, do forgive me. What might your name be, dear lady?” 

Pale brows shot up in surprise. Surely she hadn’t been gone a season, but then she had never seen this stranger in front of her until now. It would seem that she was gone for far longer then she should have. “I suppose that would explain it.” She allowed after a moment. “It isn’t often Lord Tyelperinquar takes mentors, as I’m sure you know.” It wasn’t often her cousin let anyone he didn’t know well into his forge, but Celebrimbor was a grown man, and surely did not need his cousin looking out from him. However, being ten years his senior, it didn’t stop her from being concerned for her cousin even if he was full grown.

“Mormiriel is my name.” She offered carefully after a moment. It was a lie. Her name was Lothuialneth, but she rarely used that name anymore, and Tyelpe was the only one who knew otherwise that it wasn’t her name. “The kingdom can be rather enchanting, so I will not judge you for it. I find it refreshing, really.” The elleth offered him a small smile to try and reassure the other that his excitement hadn’t bothered her. To be truthful, she would have punched him it the mouth had he been a thief, and it was refreshing not to need to do so. Yet.

“Ah!” the smith cried, recognition dawning, “I ought have guessed! Your cousin has spoken of you with praise– and, if I may be so bold, some trepidation. You are, I take it, not a force to be trifled with.” He winked. “You are as lovely as your name! And a fine name it is… invoking a fine and noble ancestry. I myself may trace some far distant kinship to Lady Indis… though, I realize amongst present company that is a topic around which to tread lightly.”  

Aulendil  took a disparaging glance towards the door of the smithy. “…As my pupil seems to have more important errands to attend, or else has overslept most egregiously, wouldst care to accompany me on a tour of the grounds? I am still and slowly becoming acquainted with the city, and you seem a reputable guide. –If milady has the time and inclination, of course.” He cocked his head with an inquisitive smile that crinkled his eyes. 

It would seem that, even though her cousin had mentioned her as family, the other had thought her from Fingolfin or Finarfin’s lines. Many had, but those that knew her father knew better then to come to that assumption given how much she resembled him. A few things could be attributed to her Maia mother, but it would seem that most would think otherwise. “I did not survive the last age by being dainty. A lady I may be, but I can still die by a sword even if I do not know how to use one.” She replied dryly. If anything her father had been sure that she knew how to protect herself here. It wasn’t Valinor. Her mother could not appear from thin air(almost literally sometimes), and save her. Lóthuialneth had learned quickly she was on her own.

“He probably overslept from staying in the forge too long. ” she replied with a wave of her hand. “It’s not uncommon for him to spend long days and nights in the forge working on a piece or something.” Lóthuialneth paused as he asked if she would take him on a tour. It was rare for her to indulge such a thing, however this once would not hurt. It was rather nice outside after all. “I would be glad to take you on a tour.”

The forgemaster drew back his venerable head, mouth shaped into a silent “o”.

“I see! A true daughter of the Noldor indeed! I don’t doubt you have a backbone of steel. But these are happily more peaceable times, and I hope very much that those of us–” he inclined his palm, deferring to her, “or rather, those of you, who took the brunt of the continental wars, can rest, and ease your minds from such desperate thoughts.” He smiled, crooked but kindly. “Noldor… Always so hot-headed and willing to leap towards extremes… Tyelpe is often the same way.  It makes him bold and tireless and in many ways I find it admirable… but I confess, it is a frustrating tendency! Perhaps it is naive of me, but this place makes me believe we can build a future where youngsters like yourself will never again have to consider whether or not they would die by the sword.” 

He held out an arm, muscles beneath the soft cream robe as hard and round as a tree trunk– a smith’s arm, to be sure– and gestured invitingly that the elleth might take it. “Lead the way, milady. If my tardy pupil arrives while we are away, he will just have to wait for our return.” 

“As my mother would say, or I suppose quote, ‘There is always a calm before the storm’.” She replied evenly, if not coldy. The blonde did not comment further to his words, feeling that they had somehow struck a nerve. The Noldor….they were a passionate people, and the Vanya before her was perhaps not to fond of her family. However very few were fond of her family considering the crimes that her father and uncles had committed. Crimes that seemed to placed upon her and Tyelpë’s heads more often then not.

Lothuialneth took the smith’s arm, and led him away from the forge. “He’ll probably work on something while we’re away.” She murmured. “I doubt he will be bored. Now where have you been in the city? Or have you simply been about Tyelpë?”

Aulendil laughed abruptly. “I have indeed been dogging your outrageous cousin since I arrived! He is a whirlwind of kingly duties and maddening genius– I feel I’ve simply been dragged along in his wake. I dare say it has been an immensely demanding friendship, and rewarding beyond measure. But…” he rolled his shoulders in a shrug “…the only parts of the city I am deeply familiar with at this time are the roads from the palace to the university and from there to the forges.” 

As they walked the smith took note of his companion’s brittle expression, and his smile became less merry and more sympathetic. “I fear I have offended you, my lady. It is an unfortunate truth about me: my sentiments are too Vanyarin for the Noldor, and too Noldorin for the Vanyar! I am an odd sort of fish out of water wherever I go, and my travels have been far and wide… But know that whatever my manners, I consider Tyelpe to be a friend, and his forefathers to be masters of their craft. I know the wars left great rifts between our peoples. I know too that there were no simple roads to justice nor to peace. Who knows if the means justified the ends on any side.” His eyes turned to the path ahead, harder than they had been. “There were no victors of the Wars of Wrath… No party without a valid motivation, and no innocents.”

Closing the door to the forges behind them, he sighed. “All the more reason to move forward, no? Look what we can create in a city where all the speaking peoples work together… behind us the past is dim with pain, but the future shines brighter than Aman.” He stepped briskly into the morning light with the elfin lady on his arm.  “But enough pontificating! Tell me what occupies you here in the city– and how do you manage such precocious kin?” 

@twilightblossom

“I do not usually occupy myself in the city.” She replied quietly. “All the stone, and walls actually tend to make me feel a bit…..closed in. My mother was very close to nature, and I spent much of my time with her when I was growing. Tyelpë and I are rather differently in the respect of interest.“ To be far, her mother was a Maia, and even if she had stayed in Aman it was not only her influence that had led to her love of nature. Her father had nurtured that love as well. “I suppose it rubbed off…my mother’s love of nature and it’s creatures.”

No victors? Morgoth had in some measure in her mind. He held the Silmarils til the Valar intervened. He tortured her uncle. He had a great many victories, and her heart swelled with anger as they walked even though the emotion never made it to her face. “Perhaps not.” She replied after a moment. “No, but innocents were murdered in that war. Women and children who had done little to deserve the ending dealt to them. Yes, those that took part of the kinslayings are guilty of that atrocity, but those actions should not define their descendants.” She remembered the Doom well. It damned their whole line. Was she innpcent of killing kin? No, and she would never claim it, but it was once she was young, and terrified. Their parents had told them to stay put, but in the chaos that ensued she was left with a choice: her own life, or the life of this one elf that decided that taking barely of age elves, grandchildren of Feanor, would help. Truly had either of them been slaughtered she imagined the First Age to be far worse then it had been. “Nor should it condemn them.”

“Tyelpe is hard to follow. Sometimes it seems mad, but truly what he creates is beautiful.” Lothuialneth knew quite well that Her Uncle would be proud of his son. However, sometimes she questioned if her own father would be. If he and her mother would understand her choices in the end. “You have hit an old wound. But enough talk of sadness, how about I take you to the stables, hmmm? Surely, even a smith needs to know where to keep his horse, yes?”

As Mormiriel spoke of the toll the war had taken on innocents, Aulendil looked as if he might make retort, but he closed his lips over bitten teeth, and the spark of emotion–anger? bitterness? grief?– that lit his face quickly cooled. “Yes, the losses on all sides were…” 

He shook his head. “…Would you believe, I haven’t had a horse since I left Dunland!” he laughed flatly, “I left my last steed crossing the Glanduin and took the rest of the road by foot. So of your no doubt inestimable stables, I am also ignorant. You have your work cut out for you, milady; we can begin there, and then, perhaps, you can introduce me to a venue wherein I may procure some breakfast?” 

doegred:

misbehavingmaiar:

[snip ]

When the Noldo’s knife carves a precise triangle into his chest, his attention is bent entirely in frantic anticipation of an answer that never comes. Maedhros is toying with him. The chilling light catches the elf’s eyes like poison… He will not reveal the secret of this prison yet, there is too much satisfaction to be had in making his captive wait. Sauron knows this– this is his game, though he has never played this side of the board before.

But as the circuit is completed, white fire sears him where flesh makes contact with iron, and his mind goes blank. 

Metal has never betrayed him this way before.
The shock of it draws a belated howl from him; it is as if his body is refusing to acknowledge the bite of a loyal hound until its fangs were bloodied thrice over. His delayed screams surprise even him. 

Once, long ago, the maia had felt the gaze of Namo pass over his spirit. It had been cold and hollow, its pull unforgiving. Just beyond the agony of this strange electric fire, he could feel that same chill tug beneath the heat– it feels like dissolution. It feels like the nearest he can come to death.

The interior of his fana twists and pulls violently in opposing directions, his very atoms seem to wish to fly apart, and it is all he can do to hold the repelling forces together with brute strength of will.  It is a small blessing that his jaw locks, for otherwise he would find himself begging through the roar of pain. 
When he has fought in the past it was to maintain advantage; now, all thought is consumed by the urgent need to survive, to hang on, to regain control.

His eyes and flesh glow with the magnitude of this singular effort, unable to maintain the semblance of humanity any longer. Flakes of black oxide and ash peel off his molten skin. The harder he pulls himself in, the hotter the fire within him grows, and the whiter the heat of his frame…

When the core of him burns yellow-white as a furnace, he can feel the terrible power of Maedhros’s machine begin to slip. It gives him enough leverage to wrench himself off the wall, and with a drunken lurch, he takes a threatening step towards his gaoler. 

“Pers… perseverance.”  He hisses, smoke rising from his mouth and body. Waves of heat distort his vision, but he can see well enough to lunge. 

Even through the haze of drunken hate, this curtain of rotten joy that, rather than being parted by the bone-white blade, is made thicker and thicker with every thread of skin that snaps under its caress, even as his gaze is clouded by the sweetish smell of the Maia’s blood rising in arches of bubble though the air Maedhros should see the signs. After all this possibility is hardly an unexpected one, and yet the Noldo notices barely in time to react. Suddenly the droplets of blood until now floating, start falling around Sauron’s body as his eyes glow and the machine looses some of its grip of him under the heat radiating from the Maia’s body.  Behind his shoulders Dimhelesin gasps sharply and his distress hits the Noldo like a wave, sobering through their link, in the same instant in which the metallic smell of burning conductors and ozone reaches him, even stronger than the corruption from the Maia to his newly awakened senses. There is almost no time for rage, fear of loosing his prisoner, or satisfaction at seeing his enemy’s desperate effort.

“DIN! FULL!”

His voice is a roar and yet there is an odd elation in his words even as the Fëanorion grits his teeth, strong enough for his jaw to hurt, and his whole body coils backward. His eyes shine, never leaving his enemy’s and, in the same instant that the Maia takes his first step ahead, Maedhros springs into action.

Behind the Fëanorion’s shoulders his herald barely blinks before moving fast, with military precision, and sharply lowering the lever that control’s the energy flow to the apparatus, any sign of doubt or emotions in his face erased by the danger.

In one swift movement Maedhros’ body launches forward, his hand brandishing the knife in a spasmodic grip.

Around them the hum of machinery rises to a frenzied buzz, the inscriptions surrounding the machine glow livid and suddenly the air is cold enough to make the Fëanorion’s breath rise in a wisp of vapour as he slams his left foot on the tiles, using the force of his movement to bury his knife in Sauron’s shoulder and its momentum to immediately drag it across the expanse of his chest, deep enough to scrape over bone with a screeching chirrup.

With a deep, harmonic, drone the lines of power flare back to life, invisible and yet unyielding, encasing the Maia once again as the temperature lowers and the corona of blood droplets surrounding Sauron rises once again, stretching in elliptical wings around the fuse of the field, and if he were lucid enough Maedhros would know that barely a whisper of space stands between him and unconsciousness. Yet right now all he can feel is the drunken satisfaction of flesh opening for him as a scream of agony tears through the air and the inscriptions on his blade shine like a park of fire in and out his enemy’s flesh.

Just enough to take him out for a while, just that. That much is all he needs.

Maedhros’ very thoughts are tinged with a desperate elation as he opens his mouth, humming the few words of power that he knows and now uncoil on his tongue: not the power of the West, or the power of convictions.. Not only, at least, but the deeper power, the one that links together matter and makes crystal shine, the one that burns without heat in the heart of his people’s gems and makes light flow effortlessly, as it is doing now, though certain ceramics and refined carbon.

It is with a savage last thrust that Maedhros drags the blade to touch the previous cut, closing a broader circuit in Sauron’s body. His lips almost form the words echoing in his mind.

Just enough power for now..

The Fëanorion’s voice is a savage hiss as he buries the knife in the flesh and the ceramic blade chips on the Maia’s ribs with a clear tinkle.

“Yes.. Perseverance..”

This is not happening! This is not happening to me, this cannot happen to me! He’d been in control, the solution to the problem found: heated iron fell immune from the grasp of lodestones, that should have returned the upper hand to him! Had he miscalculated? No… his breath fogs, ice crystals branch across metal and glass, his core of heat faltering in the unnatural cold. 

The invisible power reaches out to him again, halting his momentum as surely as if he were walking into Manwë’s windstorms. Clawing the ground uselessly for purchase, he loses his grip in the vertigo, and rises contorted into the air with a scream of helpless anger.

Every movement of the Noldo and his subordinate are precise and desperate, part of a plan, gaining on some precarious goal. They are a soldier’s motions, and yet, beneath all, he recognizes the drunken passion of a more personal motive.
It was not so long ago when their positions had been reversed.

 Fear makes the great Maia’s heart thunder in his chest, drowning out the horrible drone of the mechanism with its pounding. The Noldo’s knife plunges again and again, thudding into him and parting him with gushing lines. A hard, intimate vibration through his bones as the knife rattles across his ribcage promises a future of unbearable pain– if indeed there is a future. 

Maedhros’s face is the only unclouded image he can see; star-bright eyes wide and terribly focused, lips parted and damp as if the elf were panting with lust, his rune-etched blade sizzling with the Maia’s blood. 

His eyes shut as another shriek is torn out of him by the opposing fields of the machine, hot lightning crackling through the fresh outlets carved in his flesh. He feels himself losing this body– the one he has no replacement for, the one Aulë made him so long ago. He cannot bear it. He cannot afford this.

“I beg you, stop! Please! I surrender!” Darkness floods his vision and he can no longer tell if he is housed in flesh, or dead, or dreaming. 

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