Chasing Mirages by Russandol

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Ñorthus

Sauron shows his Dark Lord’s colours.

 

This chapter fits several B2MeM 2012 prompts:

Controversial - I22: Fate: Free Will or Preordained?
This Means War! - O67: Sauron vs. Celebrimbor

 

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31. Ñorthus [1]

 

I opened my mouth to protest but Mairon silenced me with an imperious gesture. Under his mighty glare, I balled my fists, pressing my fingernails into my palms to contain my anger.

‘Did you think I had forgiven your lord and his kindred for what they did to us in Kiinlúum? I was no longer a concern or a threat to them; you said so yourself! Yet they twisted the minds of their charges to hunt me, turned me into an outlaw and took you away, caring not a whit for the war, the death and the destruction they wrought.’ I bit my lip at his quoting my earlier words. ‘They sent you back as a thrall to the pitiful survivors of the Noldor, with threats to enforce your compliance. Everything I had done to rebuild a realm for us was for nought.’

Picking up a cloth, he cleaned the blade of his sword almost lovingly, peering at its edge with a frown several times, before rubbing a particular spot. At last he placed both sword and rag back on the table behind him.

‘What of the Children?’ I asked. ‘They are not to blame for Manwë’s ruling. Leave them out of our grievance against the Valar!’

‘Ai, Eönwë, their perfidy was no less galling.’ He looked around the room, still unspoiled, pausing to gaze at the objects of beauty that decorated it. ‘I worked for them, abased myself before their bruised pride as Exiles and rebels, shared with them curwë I had toiled for ages of Eä to amass. Yet I was rejected by Gil-galad, scorned by Galadriel, and mistrusted by many, like your lord Elrond. Did I merit no better?’

‘But here, in Eregion, you were respected.’

‘Was I, truly? Celebrimbor called me a friend and was dear to me, but he kept to himself the final spark of inspiration and withheld ideas and projects from me, an undeserved concealment after I had taught him all he knew on the matter. Did he take me for a fool?’ He snorted sharply. ‘Of course I learnt of his deceit. Little did he suspect that I already possessed that final piece of curwë that he hoarded to himself, that I had planned for him to discover it as his own.’

‘As for you...’ He paused, his face unexpectedly contorted by an anguish so raw that it tied my throat into a painful knot. His voice was hoarse, his words halting. ‘You left me. After all your promises, you chose them and betrayed me!’

He was shaking from barely contained rage. Guilt and loss surged in my chest, thick and choking.

‘Leaving you was no betrayal, Mairon. All I ever wanted was you!’

His lips curved upward into a sneer. ‘But not enough to stay.’

‘I was afraid of their wrath,’ I cried. ‘You just recalled what they did to us, and to others. How could I trust them not to strike again? But I trusted you!’

‘I would not have fled into the shadows this time, Eönwë. I had the means to ensure my survival, our survival. I said I would protect you but you chose not to believe me.’ His voice wavered. ‘Was that trust?’

‘How could I guess you had built a fortress and mustered armies in secret while you charmed the Mírdain?’ 

‘They were meant in defence, the sting in the scorpion’s tail,’ he retorted. ‘Had you known about them, would I have persuaded you of my goodwill, when your mind was filled with whispers of suspicion from your worthy lord?’

I clenched my fists, frustrated. Sparring against Mairon with words was ever likely to yield the same outcome as doing it with swords.

‘Whatever you intended in the past, there is no justification for your deeds now, Mairon. Your thirst for revenge has warped your dream of ordering and healing Endórë into a quest for imposing your dominion by force. Creating the Rings to lure the Children under your rule was wrong but you could have given up your ambitions when your ploy was unveiled. Instead you declared yourself and brought war to them. Why?’

‘They refused to aid me, even if they had claimed to share my vision; they renounced the Rings I had patiently taught Celebrimbor to make. The Rings were tools to guide them gently, as we did with every ahaw of Kiinlúum long ago. When the Children turned their backs on me, I was disappointed, nay, enraged at their contempt.’ His gaze lingered on my wrist and I wrapped my fingers around the shackle. He raised his hand and studied the Ring. ‘You must have felt my joy when I completed my task; I wished for you to share my triumph.’

‘I felt you, yes, though I did not understand what I sensed.’

‘You sensed the fulfilment of a dream, patiently built into a tangible reality. By right, we should be lords on these shores that Manwë and his kin have forsaken, Eönwë!’

‘We were appointed as guardians, not rulers. The Valar may have failed by omission but that does not justify you becoming a tyrant. Step back from this path of ruin!’

‘Is that why Elrond sent you? To sway me?’

‘He guessed that we were lovers in Eregion, but he did not command me in this. I claimed to be Elrond’s herald so as to be brought to you. I am not.’

‘That is obvious. It is unwise to insult or argue with the enemy for whom you bear a message.’

I smiled faintly and met his gaze. In his eyes I found a chink of fondness that made me breathless, as though I, too, had been stabbed by his sword. I blinked quickly, to clear my sight.

‘So you are a deserter.’

I flinched.

‘I am not here to join your ranks, Mairon. I have come to beg you for the life of Celebrimbor. Cease this evil before it drags you to the same fate as Melkor.’

‘Do not dare compare me to him!’ he snarled.

Unexpectedly, he reached out and touched the back of his hand to my cheek. I froze, willing myself not to withdraw from the caress, even though I struggled to endure the Ring’s disturbing wave of distortion. Despite my efforts, he must have felt my tension, and frowned.

‘So why should I do as you ask? Eregion is mine. You might be Gil-galad’s spy, hoping to slay me in an unguarded moment.’ He ran his fingers down the back of my neck. I shivered; he could snap my spine as easily as a twig. My heart was racing and my body trembling as if it had been only yesterday that we had last lain together.

In his firm touch, in the slight movement of his fingers over my hair, and down towards my shoulder there was a hint of tenderness, a glimpse of the spell that once had bound us. I wished that we were back in Kiinlúum, that all that had happened since that unhappy day when the arrow had struck me had been a bad dream. With a pang, I realised that under the horror and disgust at Mairon’s deeds, my feelings for him were still as strong as they had ever been. Coming to see him only to fall prey to his lure had been folly.

‘What are you bartering, Eönwë?’

‘I have nothing to offer, except...’ I bit my bottom lip. ‘If you need a hostage I will take his place.’

He laughed. ‘Very noble of you, and a most tempting offer, even though the loss of a deserter may be seen as a blessing in your camp. But Celebrimbor has something you cannot give me, for once.’

I well knew the secret he coveted, but I feigned indignation to mask my lie. ‘Surely you have already plundered the treasures of the Mírdain. What else can there be?’

He peered at me intently.

‘I wonder what game you are playing. Can it be that you are truly in the dark about this matter?’

‘What matter?’ I remembered when failure to playact convincingly triggered both his wrath and my misery. Far more was at stake now. ‘Ever since Elrond learnt I was besotted, he has kept his counsel about anything that concerns you. When he finds me gone, no doubt he will be glad of his discretion.’

Mairon shrugged.

‘Celebrimbor will scream out his secret, sooner or later.’ He pressed his lips together and his brow furrowed. ‘Sooner, if he sees wisdom before he loses his sanity. Or his limbs.’

‘Mairon, no! How can you...’ My gorge rose; I bent over, with a hand to my mouth. When I recovered, Mairon was watching, impassive.

‘Once he was a friend, but he is my enemy now. I gave him a choice but he refused it, most regrettably.’ His eyes glittered, hard as adamant. ‘Your arrival has delayed my afternoon visit. I should be annoyed but, in fact, I am hopeful that your presence and encouragement today will make him more garrulous.’

I cringed in horror.

‘You cannot make me... no, I cannot betray him... I will not play a part in such atrocity!’ I cried, taking a step backwards.

‘You have no choice, if you wish him to stop longing that his next heartbeat be his last.’

Stricken, I glared at him in outrage. He stared back, shook his head and called the guards.

The soldiers entered at a trot and stood at attention. Mairon gave his lieutenant orders in a language I could not understand, but which sounded like the harsh incantation he had spoken when he revealed himself.

This officer had a natural air of authority that made me wonder if he could be nobility, maybe even a prince in his own lands. His bow to Mairon was shallow, and there was no servile demeanour when he answered a question. He wore a magnificent diamond brooch on his cloak, and a long knife at his waist that looked Noldorin in design; the hilt was made of white horn inlaid with curling bands of gold, and matched the sword at his hip. Part of his share of the booty, I thought with bitterness.

I did not fail to notice a plain golden ring on the man’s finger as he snapped manacles around my wrists. Because of the mithril shackle, the band dug into my flesh in a most painful manner. He checked the restraints with thorough efficiency before handing the small key to his lord. Mairon accepted it with an air of benevolent regret.

‘Surely you must understand why I do not trust you, Eönwë,’ he said.

I did not bother to reply.

Satisfied, Mairon led the way. As he passed, I sensed the low humming of a protective shield. Cursing silently, I followed him, flanked by four soldiers, and their officer walked behind us, sword at the ready.

This time I was not blindfolded. The rooms around Mairon’s quarters were intact, but a few corridors beyond the signs of pillage and mindless destruction were everywhere. Shattered and mangled masterpieces, trodden and torn tapestries, rubble and dirt strewn on the once pristine marble floors made me fear for the fate of the members of the Mírdain. I hoped they had not placed more worth on their treasured works than on their own lives.

We reached a wide courtyard lined on two opposite sides by at least a dozen buildings, workshops and forges. The far end was blocked by a stone wall with an ironbound double gate, seemingly an exit onto a back alley. The open space in the centre swarmed with soldiers of many origins gathered around fire pits. Two carts were being loaded with pieces of armour and weapons of all kinds. The troops hailed a salute and bowed when they noticed the presence of their lord.

In a dark corner I espied a makeshift cage inside which a score of naked prisoners, both men and women, huddled together for warmth. I could not recognise any of the begrimed faces that turned in our direction. Fury threatened to overwhelm me at the sight of the captives; I took a deep breath and looked away. We were heading towards one of the larger foundries but before we reached the wide doors, a tall man strode out and gave his obeisance.

‘Ren, what can you report?’ Mairon said.

‘Nothing yet, my Lord,’ answered the man, rising from his bow. From the sober style of his maroon tunic I guessed he came from Khand. His eyes were dark but within them danced a bright, mad fire, which I had only seen before in the fanatic warriors who had killed me in Kiinlúum.

‘Have my instructions been followed?’ asked Mairon.

‘Yes, my Lord. With the utmost precision. The instruments are ready. The prisoner’s will is wavering now that he understands what he is about to lose next. We may get answers soon.’

‘Very well.’

Mairon approached me and wrapped his arm over my shoulders in what in other circumstances would have been a friendly gesture.

‘You will do exactly as I tell you, if you wish to see him free. You shall not speak unless I ask you to, or you will both pay dearly. Whatever you see, whatever happens. Understood?’

‘Yes,’ I said through gritted teeth.

As we crossed the threshold, the stench hit me like a hammer. The thick fumes of the forge fires were blended with the tang of blazing metal, overpowered by the acridness of burned flesh and the sharp miasmas of urine and faeces. In the dim light I failed to realise what the shapes and shadows meant, at first believing I was standing before a pair of thick poles joined into a saltire.

One of Ren’s servants used an iron rod to stoke the fire, and its amber glare revealed the truth. I gagged, and my knees almost gave under my weight. Mairon’s hand tightened like a vice on my arm to both support and warn me.

Celebrimbor was suspended, spread-eagled and naked, from a heavy wooden frame. His skin was an ugly landscape of cuts, welts and burns painted in dark, ragged streaks; his head hung over his chest, face obscured by loose strands of sweaty, tangled hair. He was taking short, shallow breaths, sobbing occasionally. All his fingers had been broken, his nails pulled out and on his left hand three blackened stumps, seared by coarse cautery, ended where the first joints should have been.

The cruelty of the torment brought tears to my eyes.  

Nothing had prepared me to meet the stark reality of one of Irmo’s visions. Doubts fluttered wildly across my mind; was this the proof of immutable fate or was the gift of choice before me?

As if sensing our presence, Celebrimbor lifted his weary head. I swallowed a lump of pity when his gaze, feverish and pained, flitted across my face without any hint of recognition, before moving back to my companion.

‘Kill me, Gorthaur,’ he murmured weakly, ‘for I will tell you nothing.’

Having gauged where everyone stood, I pushed Mairon away as though to avoid his repulsive touch.

‘How can you stoop to this abomination, Ñorthus?’ I roared.

He backhanded me and I stumbled sideways, crashing awkwardly against his lieutenant. Before the man could react, I snatched the ornate knife from his belt and leapt towards Celebrimbor. Without time to whisper a prayer or ask for his forgiveness, I plunged the blade through his heart.

Several pairs of hands yanked me off him amongst a din of insults, curses and blows, but they were too late, as was Mairon’s thunder of sorcery that sent stabbing bolts of pain all through my body. Celebrimbor gave me a weak nod before he exhaled for the last time and death glazed the look of relief in his eyes.

I smiled in triumph; my crude plan had worked, against all odds. The last scion of Fëanáro was free from torment and his Rings were safe, for the moment.

Sauron’s minions forced me to kneel before their lord. His lieutenant pushed his knife, still wet with Celebrimbor’s blood, against my throat. I felt the sting of a shallow cut and a warm trickle sliding down my neck but I no longer cared if he pushed the blade deeper and sent me to Mandos. Nothing tied me to Endórë any more.

‘Shall I slay him, my lord?’

‘You useless dog!’ cried Sauron, wrathful. ‘The secret is lost! Did I not command you to watch him at all times?’

From my kneeling position I struggled to see what happened next, but the pressure on my neck slackened until the blade fell to the floor. Immediately I looked up to see Mairon touch his servant’s head and I heard the loud crackle of lethal power, before the body fell limply to the ground.

‘Watch the price of failure, all of you!’ warned Mairon.

Several of the men shifted their feet, unnerved. Then he crouched by the corpse at my side and prised the golden ring off the right hand.

‘Ren, this is yours now,’ he said, flicking the ring in the torturer’s direction. ‘I will give you new instructions shortly.’

The man from Khand cradled the plain gold band in his palm and smiled, first tentatively with incredulous wonder, then widely with pure joy. He threw himself at Mairon’s feet and kissed his hand.

‘Thank you, my Lord! I shall prove I am worthy of your precious gift,’ he vowed, before pushing the ring onto his finger and closing his fist possessively.

‘Rise, Ren,’ answered Mairon. ‘You are indeed most worthy of my trust.’ His gaze turned to me, laden with chilling contempt. ‘Unlike others who take pleasure in betraying me at every opportunity. Where are the Rings?’

‘I do not know,’ I answered, glaring back at him.

‘We shall see.’ He placed a friendly hand on the torturer’s shoulder. ‘You, Ren, will be my invaluable ally to assist our recalcitrant herald see the light.’

I braced myself for his vengeance.

 

~ o ~

 

Three hundred and twenty six.

This was the number of prisoners tormented, maimed, and sometimes slain in retribution for Celebrimbor’s death. Mairon forced me to sit at his feet and watch Ren torture them, sometimes for hours on end. I could recall with disturbing clarity each and every scream, moan and whimper; their gazes, wild with pain, supplicating or proud, haunted my days and nights.

To my horror, the first time I had refused to look when Ren began whipping a small boy who wailed for his mother, he plucked out the child’s eyes; the first time I cried for mercy on behalf of a woman being raped with a hideous instrument, it had been her tongue, not mine, that he had ripped out, before proceeding with his act. If I fought the chains that bound me in place, his victim would have one hand, maybe two, cut off in payment for my disobedience.

Every time, before giving the order to begin, Mairon asked me where the Rings were; invariably I answered, ‘I do not know.’ As though performing a grim ritual, he always said, ‘You betrayed me to save the Children, but you were wrong. See how your actions and your lies betray them, too.’

He would speak this admonition while touching my head or my face in despicable mockery of a caress, as though I were his beloved pet. I writhed inwardly, silent and unmoving despite the longing he awoke. He savoured with glee the proof of his dominance, often stroking me into full hardness in view of all his leering minions and the prisoners.

In his most sympathetic tone, Mairon then explained to every captive that the pain they were about to suffer was the price of my treason to their people. Unable to refute his words, I winced at their curses and looks of loathing when they believed me the cause of their agony. I was grateful whenever one of them saw through Mairon’s lies and gazed on me with pity, even if I did not deserve it.

Unlike Ren, who relished his gruesome task, Mairon did not enjoy witnessing the pointless pain of his captives. Often I saw his lips curl up in disgust. Soon I realised he preferred to focus his attention on me.

Therefore, as my defiance never failed to bring brutal retaliation to his victims, I learnt to watch almost without blinking, letting my grief and despair consume me inside, while outwardly I remained quiet and impassive as stone. The misery of the Children stung a thousand times more sharply than a whip ever had. I vainly tried to block the senses of my hröa and let numbness take over but every scream, every plea or cry of defiance, every fervent prayer to Elbereth jolted me back into terrible awareness.

Mairon had cunningly turned guilt into my most implacable tormentor. To add to my punishment, the torturer from Khand never laid a finger on me.

Mairon was taking no more chances, though, and kept me in chains day and night, locked in a stone cell by the forges, which I only left to witness Ren’s performances. A watch of two men was permanently on duty by the iron grill that soon replaced the original oaken door, removing all privacy. But the sentries were strictly forbidden from speaking to me. Mairon had commanded that no one mistreat me in any way. Three days after I killed Celebrimbor, a soldier was caught attempting to force me. Mairon condemned him to be castrated and blinded. After that, no one disobeyed his orders.

I was given warm food, clothes, blankets, and allowed to keep myself clean. When I refused to eat or drink, he tortured other prisoners so I ceased trying to escape to Mandos.

Dark dreams of vengeance, of tearing Mairon apart limb from limb were ever present in my mind. However, they were a thin, feeble cover for the deeper feelings that still vied for victory and managed to burst free whenever I was not alert. Because of this weakness, I banned myself from dwelling on any happy moment we had shared in the past, lest I should become unable to tame my love, a beast battered but still very much alive.

With an abundance of time to wallow in memories, I questioned my every choice since I had met Mairon outside Time, beyond Eä, and was lured by his bright, intriguing, joyful spirit. I regretted releasing him after the War, yielding to his seduction in Kiinlúum and turning my back on him in Eregion. I cursed myself for having lived in a blissful bubble of day dreams and hopes, for having dropped my vigilance, for becoming complacent and keeping silent, allowing him to be lured by his lust for control and order. I grieved and wept, but my guilt did not wash away.

Because I knew that, in the same way I was responsible for the torment of three hundred and twenty six Children and all others slain by Sauron’s army, I was to blame for his second fall. He was right, I had betrayed all the vows I ever made to stand at his side and keep him free from Melkor’s insidious hold.

I had deserted everyone I had ever cared for.

I wanted to forget or to die, but I could do neither.

 

 

 

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[1] Ñorthus (Quenya) mist of fear - equivalent of Sindarin Gorthaur (Abhorred) [“Word, Phrases and Passages in The Lord of the Rings,” Parma Eldalamberon 17]