How the Mighty are Fallen
folder
+Almaren and Valinor, Pre-Trees - Trees › AU - Alternate Universe
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,499
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+Almaren and Valinor, Pre-Trees - Trees › AU - Alternate Universe
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,499
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I don't own Mairon, Melkor, or any other characters, places, or things within the Tolkien realm and I make no money off this story.
How the Mighty are Fallen Ch. 2
The time flew by entirely too quickly.
On the seventh day, Mairon forced himself to walk to the forge … the same place Melkor had come to him. The place of his rape. Even though it had been cleaned, the Maia could still see the drops of crimson on the stones, smell the musky scent the Vala had emanated mixed with blood and vomit, and he faltered at the door. I have no choice, he told himself, crossing the threshold.
His first visitor was not Melkor, though Aulë’s presence didn’t help him any. His lord looked at him through keen eyes, and Mairon greatly feared the Vala would ask questions he had no desire to answer. Forcing himself to present an outward appearance of utter calm, he went about his duties while Aulë stood and watched.
“Is aught amiss, Mairon?” Aulë finally asked, detecting something a little bit off about the Maia today.
“Nay, my lord,” Mairon answered quietly, not meeting those piercing eyes.
Aulë knew those words were untrue – the Maia before him was far too quiet, too withdrawn. Sighing, he searched for the right words to use to get Mairon to tell him what was wrong. As he thought, his eyes wandered over the forge, and with a start he realized how sterile it looked. “Someone has done some cleaning,” he remarked … ah. There was a very faint wince from the Maia, almost imperceptible, but Aulë caught it.
“It needed it, my lord,” Mairon expressed, finally meeting the Vala’s eyes. “I … have much to do today, I fear. Was there something you wished of me?”
The Vala shook his head. “Nay. I will leave you to your work,” he said, and turned about to walk away. He would seek counsel with Manwë and Námo, and see if either of them knew what was troubling the Maia.
“Too close,” Mairon murmured, once his lord had gone. “Ilúvatar, what am I to do?”
“You dare to ask him, when I told you the only choice you had?”
The Maia spun around, having not heard nor felt Melkor arrive. The Vala stood not three feet away, arms folded across his chest and those pale blue eyes boring into him with malice. “I”—
“Silence,” Melkor hissed, grabbing a handful of the inky hair to jerk the Maia up to him. “You will submit to me in full – do you understand me?”
Mairon swallowed hard, feeling bile rise in his throat at what those words promised. “Y-yes,” he managed to get out.
“Yes what?” Melkor demanded, tightening his hold on the Maia’s hair.
“Yes, my lord!” Mairon cried.
Melkor growled, shaking him. “Nay!” he spat. “I am your master, and you will refer to me as such!”
Mairon had tasted the Vala’s anger once, but what was rising from the being now shook him to his core. Such rage … such hatred and spite, he reflected. Ilúvatar, I beg of you … spare me this!
When the Maia didn’t respond, Melkor snarled dangerously. “We will away to my home now,” he hissed. “There you will learn properly how best to serve me.”
The Maia was hauled from the forge bodily, and from there everything was a blur to him. His eyes were open, but mostly sightless due to the internal conflict, and it wasn’t until they arrived at Melkor’s domain that awareness spun back to him … and he wished it hadn’t.
On the seventh day, Mairon forced himself to walk to the forge … the same place Melkor had come to him. The place of his rape. Even though it had been cleaned, the Maia could still see the drops of crimson on the stones, smell the musky scent the Vala had emanated mixed with blood and vomit, and he faltered at the door. I have no choice, he told himself, crossing the threshold.
His first visitor was not Melkor, though Aulë’s presence didn’t help him any. His lord looked at him through keen eyes, and Mairon greatly feared the Vala would ask questions he had no desire to answer. Forcing himself to present an outward appearance of utter calm, he went about his duties while Aulë stood and watched.
“Is aught amiss, Mairon?” Aulë finally asked, detecting something a little bit off about the Maia today.
“Nay, my lord,” Mairon answered quietly, not meeting those piercing eyes.
Aulë knew those words were untrue – the Maia before him was far too quiet, too withdrawn. Sighing, he searched for the right words to use to get Mairon to tell him what was wrong. As he thought, his eyes wandered over the forge, and with a start he realized how sterile it looked. “Someone has done some cleaning,” he remarked … ah. There was a very faint wince from the Maia, almost imperceptible, but Aulë caught it.
“It needed it, my lord,” Mairon expressed, finally meeting the Vala’s eyes. “I … have much to do today, I fear. Was there something you wished of me?”
The Vala shook his head. “Nay. I will leave you to your work,” he said, and turned about to walk away. He would seek counsel with Manwë and Námo, and see if either of them knew what was troubling the Maia.
“Too close,” Mairon murmured, once his lord had gone. “Ilúvatar, what am I to do?”
“You dare to ask him, when I told you the only choice you had?”
The Maia spun around, having not heard nor felt Melkor arrive. The Vala stood not three feet away, arms folded across his chest and those pale blue eyes boring into him with malice. “I”—
“Silence,” Melkor hissed, grabbing a handful of the inky hair to jerk the Maia up to him. “You will submit to me in full – do you understand me?”
Mairon swallowed hard, feeling bile rise in his throat at what those words promised. “Y-yes,” he managed to get out.
“Yes what?” Melkor demanded, tightening his hold on the Maia’s hair.
“Yes, my lord!” Mairon cried.
Melkor growled, shaking him. “Nay!” he spat. “I am your master, and you will refer to me as such!”
Mairon had tasted the Vala’s anger once, but what was rising from the being now shook him to his core. Such rage … such hatred and spite, he reflected. Ilúvatar, I beg of you … spare me this!
When the Maia didn’t respond, Melkor snarled dangerously. “We will away to my home now,” he hissed. “There you will learn properly how best to serve me.”
The Maia was hauled from the forge bodily, and from there everything was a blur to him. His eyes were open, but mostly sightless due to the internal conflict, and it wasn’t until they arrived at Melkor’s domain that awareness spun back to him … and he wished it hadn’t.