In Darkness Bound by Fiondil

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Chapter 46: Melkor in Avathar

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46: Melkor in Avathar

Melkor surveyed the darkness and shadows which covered this part of Avathar. They seemed even darker than elsewhere south of the Pelóri. During his previous sojourn in the South, when he had first fled the Valar, he had wandered aimlessly for a time. He was surprised to find some of his former servants there skulking in the ever present darkness, snarling at Varda’s stars that blazed overhead. Melkor thought to use them, but in the intervening ages since his imprisonment, these Úmaiar had sunk into a state of forgetfulness. Many, taking on the physical characteristics of the wild creatures that roamed these lands, had mated with them and were now more animal than ainu in spirit. Most refused to acknowledge him as their former Master and he had turned away from them in disgust. Those few who remembered their allegiance to him agreed to make their way secretly across the Sea to Angamando and there prepare the way for his return, for Melkor had no doubt that at some point he would indeed return to reclaim Endórë for his own.

And now, here he was once again skulking through the shadows, having eluded the watch that the Valar had set upon the mountains. He sneered at the thought. Pathetic fools and most of the guard was now to the North. He laughed and thought it good sport that he had beguiled Manwë so easily. His brother had no right to hold the title of Elder King, as far as he was concerned.

"Elder Fool is what he is," Melkor muttered as he made his way along a mountain ridge. During his previous visit to the South he had heard rumors that one of his former servants, one whom he had seduced from the Light and had made his mistress, though she had later disowned him as her Master, still lurked somewhere in the deepest shadows of Avathar. She went by a different name now, but there could be no doubt as to who she was and had been. Those who spoke of her did so in whispers and that alone intrigued Melkor. All any could say was that she haunted a ravine where the mountains came closest to the Sea.

He surveyed the area, taking note of one particular cleft that seemed darker than all the others. But no, it wasn’t so much darker but rather there was simply no light which penetrated that particular ravine. It was as if the darkness was a physical thing. Melkor paused and pondered his options. He needed to be wary of this one. She was not a fool but he remembered her lusts and thought to play on them. He smiled and wove himself a fana, though it was slow to form and there was a great deal of pain involved. He ignored the pain and concentrated on his form: a Dark Lord, tall and terrible, the very form he had held while he ruled Utumno.

Looking down upon himself he thought perhaps he would be unable to go incorporeal ever again. The process was becoming too painful. So be it. And truly, he preferred this form anyway, though now he would have to be extra careful if he wished to re-enter Aman, but that was where she came in. He smiled again, calling into existence a black spear, much like the one he had had when he ruled in Utumno, lost now in its ruins. Then he made his careful way towards the ravine. Now that he was closer he could see the dark webs that spanned the cleft, blocking out all light, even the light of the stars. Somewhere in the midst of the gloom that was more than just an absence of light lay his quarry. His eyes pierced the darkness and he could see her, a hideous spider’s shape though he recognized her spirit, and for a brief second Melkor mourned the beautiful Maia that she once had been.

"Acairis," he purred. "It hath been a long time, hath it not, my pet?" He watched in amusement as the úmaia attempted to hide even further in the gloom. He could see that in spite of her bloated body she was starved and her powers waning.

"Come forth!" he called. "Thrice fool: to leave me first, to dwell here languishing within reach of feasts untold, and now to shun me, Giver of Gifts, thy only hope! Come forth and see! I have brought thee an earnest of greater bounty to follow."

But Acairis did not answer, merely scuttling back further into the cloven rock. Suddenly Melkor felt himself growing angry at his former mistress’s intransigence.

"Come out, Acairis! I have need of thee and will not be denied. Either thou wilt serve me, or I will bury thee here and under black stone thou shalt wither into naught." He then held up in his hands two shining green gems which, along with some others, he had stolen during his foray into Aman.

"My name is not Acairis," came a hideous voice from the darkness. "She is dead, dead... yes, she died a long time ago." There was a lustful hunger in her tone and Melkor hid a grin.

"I care naught for thy name, Acairis...."

"Ungoliantë," the spider shape said. "Ungoliantë. That is my name."

Melkor resisted a sigh. He really needed this one and as impatient as he was to get on with his plans against Manwë he schooled himself to remain calm. Slowly he held up the two gems again, their lights glowing, casting all in a sickly green shadow, though he noticed with detached interest that the webs before him reflected nothing. Slowly she who had once been Acairis, Chief Maia of Lady Vairë, betrayer and seductress, came forth; but as she drew near Melkor withheld the lure.

"Nay, nay," he said with amusement at the sound of her anguish as he hid the gems from her. "I do not bring thee these Elvish sweets in love or in pity; they are to strengthen thee, when thou hast agreed to do my bidding."

For a long eternal moment she gave no answer and Melkor was ready to leave her when she finally spoke. "What is your bidding... Master?" she whispered with something like defeat in her voice yet also a slavering hunger, a lust that nearly overwhelmed her.

And Melkor smiled.

He spoke then of his plans of revenge against Manwë, explaining her part in it. She suddenly scuttled back into her dark hole and there was fear in her voice, fear that warred with her lust. "I dare not the perils of Aman," she whined, "or the power of the dreadful Lords, without a great reward."

"Pah!" Melkor exclaimed in disgust. "Fear rather my wrath if thou dost not my bidding."

"I fear the bright eyes of Manwë and Varda more than I fear your wrath, Melkor," Ungoliantë snarled and for a brief second it was as if it were Acairis standing before him, defying him, and not this bloated spider full of lust and venom.

"Do as I bid," he said in a wheedling tone, "and if thou art still hungry when we meet again, then, I vow, I will give to thee whatsoever thy lust may demand. Yea, with both hands!" Not that he meant it, of course, and he laughed silently to himself. Oaths were lightly given and broken and their only purpose was to lure weaker spirits to his side with promises that he had no intention of ever keeping. "Come then!" he said more forcibly. "Here is the earnest!" He held out the two green gems and several others, placing them on the ground before him and stepping back.

For one terrible second Ungoliantë did not move and then, in spite of her bloated body, she was upon him, hungrily consuming the light of the gems. Melkor watched her feed and saw how swiftly she began to grow and find new strength, weaving her webs of unlight. As the last gem was consumed she gazed on him, her hunger unappeased.

"More," she demanded in a harsh whisper. "More."

"Soon," Melkor said soothingly. "I promise."

Ungoliantë snorted. "I remember how well you kept your promises, Melkor," she said and again it was the Acairis of old who spoke.

Melkor shrugged. "That was then," he said. "This is now. Weave thy dark webs, Acairis or Ungoliantë, howsoever thou dost name thyself. Weave and spin and meet me on Mount Hyarmentir."

"Where do you go, Melkor?" Ungoliantë demanded, her voice full of suspicion.

"On an errand that concerneth thee not," Melkor replied and his tone was frigid and unforgiving and Ungoliantë scuttled back in fear. Melkor kept his baleful gaze upon her for a moment or two more until he was satisfied that she was sufficiently cowed. Then, he nodded. "Thou hast thine orders. I will meet thee on Mount Hyarmentir."

Without another word, he turned and strode away to the east and the Sea, his mind bent on one thing now: his hatred for Ulmo. He reached the dark shore and stood for some time, watching the cold water lap the black sand at his feet. He snarled, his hatred for Ulmo only second to his hatred of Manwë. "Slime of Ulmo!" he suddenly cried out in contempt. "I will conquer thee yet, shrivel thee to a stinking ooze. Yea, ere long Ulmo and Ossë shall wither, and Uinen shall crawl as a mud-worm at my feet!"

And then he spat at the waters, though he knew it was a foolish, indeed vain, gesture on his part. The Sea did not care and pretty much ignored him and he so hated being ignored. With a snarled oath he turned away and headed west towards Mount Hyarmentir, the highest mountain in that region of the world, though Taniquetil was greater still. He knew, though, that the Valar’s vigilance was less in this part of Valinor, which is why he had chosen it as his point of entry into Aman. He strode with great purpose, climbing the slopes of the mountain, using Ungoliantë’s ropes of unlight as a guide. He found her lying on a horn of rock overlooking Aman, resting. Her eyes were faint from her labors but even as he came to her he could see her eyes waken with an evil glow and he knew that her lust would soon overcome her fear.

Melkor gazed down onto the Blessed Realm. There below him were the woods of Oromë and beyond, the rich land of the Southern Fiefdoms, blessed by Yavanna and ripe with grain and vine and fruit. Further to the north, he could make out the white city of Tirion on Túna, the Mindon Eldaliéva glowing in the Light of the Trees. And further still he saw Valmar and the Máhanaxar and the Trees. He pointed at the Ezellohar.

"That is our goal," he said with an evil smile. He could barely contain his glee at the thought that soon, soon he would have his revenge against his hated brother. Manwë would rue the day he ever believed a single word Melkor had ever uttered. He laughed and the sound of his laughter echoed through the mountain range.

"Come, my pet," he then said. "It is time to feed." He leapt swiftly down the western slopes of the mountain with Ungoliantë at his side.

Her darkness covered them both.

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Úmaiar: Those Maiar who followed Melkor.

Ainu: Literally, Holy One, but in this context, meaning ‘spiritual being’ as opposed to the Mirroanwi, i.e. Elves and Men.

Angamando: Angband.

Note: The conversation between Melkor and Ungoliante and what follows is based on Tolkien’s depiction of this meeting found in Morgoth’s Ring. See ‘The Later Quenta Silmarillion: The Second Phase: Of the Silmarils and the Darkening of Valinor’.