Loyalty Unyielding by Zlu and Luff

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He Who Arises in Might

A/N Some of you say that this story could not possibly give you more feels than it already has. Well, watch us prove you wrong, ehehe! XD And please listen to the theme music for this chapter as you read :3 (it's best on repeat XD). In fact this is actually a theme melody for the whole story, we think it quite inseparable from "Loyalty Unyielding": picosong.com/3M5U/

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Chapter 11

He Who Arises in Might

* * *

In death as in life there was order. Elves departed to the Halls of Mandos, when they met their end. The fate of the Naugrim was less known, but if asked on the matter, the Dwarves themselves believed that in death they would reside in a special hall in Mandos, where they would continue to labor in the service of their maker Aulë. Men left Arda to a destiny designed especially for them and known only to Eru Ilúvatar.

But what would happen to a dead Vala?

The very supposition of death of one of the Ainur as an actual possibility appeared dubious. Yet, none of the other Valar knew pain or fear, or were bound to their physical forms. Yet again, Melkor was to experience something none of his brethren could even imagine.

Melkor pondered on his predicament for a while. Then however the Vala's mind came to the conclusion, that thought signified existence and he stirred.

He discovered that he definitely existed. No longer bound to a body, with the shape of his being once more undefined, but not as splendid as it used to be, diminished, tarnished and marred. And yet it still felt like a great relief compared to being trapped inside a dying mortal form, or any mortal form for that matter. Melkor almost felt happy, despite his final and irreversible defeat.

The irony of it did not escape him, but the surroundings did, for a while.

It was dark. Not like the dark beyond the Door of Night. This darkness was not the vast or endless emptiness of the Void. It felt constricted, limited, almost private. Melkor decided he rather liked it. If he had to spend an eternity in that place, perhaps he could even rest awhile, before creating a bit of homely chaos in its midst. That is, assuming, there was something to create chaos out of.

Melkor strode through the darkness idly, not searching for anything, exploring rather, and greatly enjoying the lack of mortal senses and the lightness of his being. He did not feel whole, or triumphant, but neither did he seeth with hate anymore. It was pointless now. It was all over. What went on in Arda now, if anything did at all, was not his concern anymore.

Or so he thought.

And then the darkness changed. Where there was nothing, just a moment before, a portal now formed, an archway in the midst of the emptiness. All the Valar stood beyond it.

Melkor grimaced, filled with loathing, with hatred and fear all over again. He was already dead, what could they possibly want from him now? He recoiled a few steps back, despite himself - he would not normally flee from them outright, unless attacked, but the calm of death had him taken by surprise by this sudden meeting - and then he stopped. The Valar were simply standing there beyond the arch, aloof and unfriendly, but they did not move from place. All in all they seemed somewhat lifeless. Tulkas surely lacked his usual vigor, otherwise he would have certainly marched out and struck him, Melkor reasoned, wincing.

But the massive Vala still remained in his place, merely glaring at him coldly, and Melkor, puzzled by this odd apparition, finally took several steps towards it, striving to determine the nature of the vision.

Yet as he did, the vision changed. The expressions of the Valar turned from lofty looks of disdain into those of fear and awe. They were the ones to recoil now. And as Melkor came to a halt before the portal, awestruck, they slowly sunk to their knees and bowed to him.

Melkor beheld them, speechless. Any cutting remarks he had began producing withered on his immaterial lips and left him one on one with his puzzlement. It was surreal to see his greatest enemies all bowing before him, worshipping him, as if he were some dark and twisted version of Eru, as if he were a Black Tyrant to rule them. The idea thrilled Melkor. But the vision was sheer madness, the Valar would never bow to him! Not Manwë. Not Oromë... And certainly not Tulkas!

Melkor stepped back and the Valar rose. When he distanced himself from the portal by several more steps, they stood straight again, looking at him with the same proud unfriendliness he had seen before. Melkor studied the portal baffled. It was clearly the work of Ilúvatar. His creator was giving him visions in death. Were they some trap? Were they meant to lure him into a destiny worse than spending the rest of eternity in this empty, but otherwise bearable place?

As the Dark Vala pondered on all of these questions, his gaze travelled from the arch towards the surrounding darkness and he discovered to his great surprise that there was another portal formed at a distance from this one. And a third one was slowly taking shape further still.

Melkor marvelled at his discovery. Then, cautiously, he headed towards the second portal.

Curiosity had always been his bane.

* * *

Like the Ainur had once before gazed on the fate of Arda unfolding before them, then a vision of remote future, they were now watching Melkor. Beholding the scene from the outside and not having strayed from the light of Eru, like their brother had, the Valar saw clearly the meaning of Eru's design, that Melkor so far failed to grasp.

The portals before the Dark Vala signified a choice. A choice of a destiny for all the Ainur, for Arda and life that inhabited it. And despite their loyalty and trust towards their creator, many of the Valar now fretted or puzzled over the fact that it was for an unknown reason none other but Melkor to whom the choice was given. The options provided so far also left the Valar most troubled, and some even quite outraged. The lesser of the Ainur, the Maiar, who also gathered around the vision, were mostly baffled and frightened by it. All the hard work that had been done in Middle-earth to undo the evils of Morgoth over the time of his imprisonment could not possibly be nullified by the choice of none other but Morgoth himself!

There were however some among the Ainur, who fretted less than the others.

Behind the Valar, behind the laughing Tulkas and blessed Manwë, on the very edge of Eru's light, yet still washed by it generously and welcomingly - like all that were gathered around - there stood a figure quite unlikely. Someone, who knew all too well that he deserved no forgiveness and restoration, that he deserved not to now be here.

Sauron stood silent and kept his distance from the others, from the Valar and even from his once fellow Maiar. Minutes before, when the vision of Melkor had not yet unfolded before them all stealing the gathering's attention, their gazes were lingering upon him, suspicious and disbelieving, unable to fathom why the Ilúvatar, Father for Always, would let Sauron Gorthaur, the most treacherous of all the Maiar and one most corrupted by Morgoth's darkness join them today. Disbelieving that Eru would let him join them ever again.

And they could not understand, why the Allfather would not only restore the hateful, ragged, dark spirit of Sauron back to his previous Ainu form but also welcome him by his name of old. Why he would call him Mairon, "the admirable" - a name to which the Maia had lost all right long ago, on the day when he joined the Black Enemy of Arda and forsaken the light forever.

Yes, forever - it truly had been that long. A whole eternity had passed since the first day of Creation, when last he had stood here, in the Halls of Eru, when last he had been washed by warmth and light. In truth, he could not blame the other Ainur for the way they looked upon him and the anxious murmurs they exchanged, for he too was still disbelieving.

After the destruction of the ring, just as Olórin had foretold, the dark Maia fell so low that none expected him ever arising. None indeed, not even Sauron himself.

In dark despair, devoid of a body and hardly aware of his own existence, with nothing to hold onto and nothing to ever again await, the Maia had spent ages filled with restless, purposeless wandering. Ages in deafening silence, trapped somewhere in-between cold nothingness and Arda, from where he could sometimes watch but never be able to come near enough to clearly see this world and the minor races he once strived to enslave and destroy... the world he learnt to long for and miss.

And then, in his darkest hour, when from beyond the mist far, far away, he beheld Melkor, his lord and master of old, come back from his eternal imprisonment only to be humbled and slain, and unable to help the Vala or save him from his final and ultimate undoing, the Maia felt the last desperate ray of hope die out inside him... just as he let his torn spirit finally surrender and begin to fade, devoid of purpose and with nothing left to hold onto...

...suddenly there was light on his face.

Sauron remembered now, how having expected to find his own destruction in the blinding light of Eru Ilúvatar, he had covered his face with his metaphorical hands and braced himself for the final nothingness or yet another torture.

But the light had not blinded him, it had not hurt him. Standing now among the Maiar and the Valar Sauron remembered its soothing warmth and how instead of shattering his very being, it embraced him and pulled him out of the cold, endless emptiness filled with swirling mist and echoes of his own despair. He never suspected that somewhere inside his being he had still remembered how to be thankful, how to be happy - but when the light saved him instead of destroying him, he was all that and more and he fell to his knees before his maker and he dared not even beg for forgiveness.

But he had been forgiven. Forgiven and welcomed back among the Ainur once more, and even though few understood the reason for Eru's mercy and many turned their heads away from him in contempt or gazed at him unsurely, none dared to question the will of Eru Ilúvatar.

And thus it was that Sauron stood now among the Ainur and together with them he watched, as the vision was revealed - but when he saw it unfolding before his eyes, suddenly it was no longer his own fate that his thoughts lingered on.

Melkor's image came to life before them, looking so real the Maia felt his heart sink. For had his master not just met his end, the end beyond all salvation? Had he not seen Túrin Turambar dealing the final blow?

Why was Eru showing this apparition, this wraith to them? Was this meant to serve as a reminder - was it some kind of warning?

But then as the vision unfurled further, Sauron understood that it was real - however even then, just like all the other Ainur, he could not comprehend the design of their Father or predict the possible outcome of Melkor's choosing. And yet with all his heart and all his soul, once again warmed by the closeness of Eru, the Maia hoped that just like he had seemingly received it, his master was right there and then being given another chance somehow.

* * *

The second portal, as Melkor discovered, presented the vision of Yavanna breaking the Silmarils apart. This moved the Dark Vala greater than the sight of Tulkas kneeling respectfully before him. In fact it moved him so greatly that he marched towards the image, intent on stopping the Queen of the Earth - but as he came closer, the vision changed.

Instead of breaking the Silmarils, the Vala now offered them to him.

Again, Melkor froze before the vision, shocked. The Silmarils. All three. Unbroken. Their light appealed to him, seeming to call out for his touch, begging to be owned by him and him alone. They were there, within his reach, just beyond the portal. Melkor raised a hand, but stayed it, holding it closer to his chest. This seemed more and more like a trap to him, and a good one. But his curiosity had been awoken and it would not rest until he knew what the other gates had to offer. And thus, after a while of watching the mesmerizing light of the three stones he had thought forever lost to him, Melkor finally stepped away, turning his gaze from the vision before he would be forced to see the jewels shattered again. He headed towards the next door then, keen on knowing what could be even more enticing than the Silmarils, his once greatest treasure.

The third vision was one of Arda.

While the first portal had spoken to his petty ego, and the second to his greed, the sight of the land he had marred and marked as his own stirred a whole different kind of feeling in Melkor. It was pain and sorrow, as he saw Arda crumble beyond the portal. Destroyed, abandoned, empty. A useless, moldy old world that Eru no longer deemed worthy of existence.

Melkor gaped at its destruction and then rushed towards the vision to stop it. The ultimate annihilation of the world was then averted and before his gaze, the land reassembled. It was still empty. Abandoned by the Valar, the Elves, Dwarves, Men and others that had been his foes. And yet, there were the sheer mountain ridges, cold and dark, razor sharp against a heavily clouded sky, tinted red with the light of the magma flows.

He could almost feel the smell of ash and feel the heat, carried to him by a wind that seemed to blow from beyond the portal. And it was not a wind of Manwë but a free wind, a wind that welcomed and invited him, as a servant begs his master to return home.

Melkor beheld Arda, his own Arda to do with as he pleased, abandoned, no longer of interest to his kin or Ilúvatar. And as he stood at the edge of the portal, the Dark Vala's black heart filled with longing and joy. Beyond the gate, at last there was a world to truly call his own, to shape entirely to his liking without the meddling of the other Valar. Melkor stood frozen by the portal for a long, long while, studying the landscape, that changed and shifted even as he admired it. All he wished to see sprung out of the soil or erupted before him, reshaping Arda endlessly and he was caught up in the vision for a long while, unable to step or look away.

And yet what the other Valar would see, as a dark triumph and vile mirth, was sincere joy and longing. Both of those emotions were so powerful they almost overwhelmed the Vala, pulling him closer and closer to the edge of the portal. But then, mesmerized and drawn in by the vision he had never even hoped to behold, with the corner of his eye Melkor noted the last portal. It made him pause at the very threshold of the gateway, and finally with a slight sigh and lingering last look, leave the portal to Arda and head towards the last vision, just to take a look at it.

As he went, Melkor noted that there were no more portals taking shape in the darkness. There were only four altogether. After what he had seen in the previous three, Melkor had not the slightest idea what to expect. What could possibly be more enticing than his own Arda? Or the Silmarils?

The humbling of the Valar, however flattering, was not on the list of Melkor's greatest desires. It had always been about Arda, and later both about it and the Silmarils, which were a major part of it, as far as Melkor was concerned. What else was there that he could possibly desire?

Clearly it was not what he saw in the portal, as he stopped before it. Once again the sight surprised him. This time, however, he was more puzzled than shocked or impressed. The apparition beyond the portal was a ghost of some sort. A howling spirit, tearing and gnawing at its own self in eternal agony and fury. This time Melkor took a moment to approach the vision, just like he had hesitated with the Valar. And as he did, the howling, tormented spirit was soothed and it appeared to calm down and mend, until it rose. It was one of the Ainur, a Maia... it was Mairon.

Melkor's black heart, no longer an actual thing of flesh, missed a spiritual beat as the Vala stopped in his tracks, staring at his most loyal lieutenant. So that was what had become of him after his master's fall. Melkor wondered solemnly how long it had taken for the Valar to take his loyal Sauron down and if the Maia had managed to wreak more havoc on their enemies before that.

He concluded that Sauron must have lasted at least some time after his own capture. The Maia had always been too resourceful and wise to fall with his master. He would have stayed in Arda a long while, continuing to play his part... Or perhaps even Melkor's part, when the Dark Vala was gone. The thought did not anger Melkor. In fact, he felt a desire to find out about his lieutenant's doings, about what Sauron had achieved alone. Surely, he couldn't have gone down without a fight.

Melkor smiled, watching his loyal lieutenant.

The words of Ar-Pharazôn the Golden came back to him then, strange words of Tar-Mairon, a herald of Melkor, who had made the Númenóreans sail with war against Valinor. And at that remembrance Melkor rejoiced and felt pride filling him, for that was a great achievement in his eyes, a brilliant and masterful performance of his most resourceful servant. It was Sauron, who had made Men worship the dark Vala long after Melkor himself had been imprisoned in the Void. And it was through Sauron's schemes and plans that his master had a vast host of Men at his disposal when he returned.

The bitterness of their defeat and the pain of his own death no longer lingered in Melkor's mind, as the Last Battle had sated all of his hate and rage. What he felt now was sheer gladness, satisfaction and perhaps even admiration. His servant had indeed outdone himself, and now that he was restored, Melkor considered praising Sauron. And so he took another step closer, wondering hesitantly if perhaps they could exchange a few words.

As he approached the portal, Sauron walked up to it on the other side. Then he stopped before the gateway, bowing to his master respectfully, and Melkor felt strangely happy and at home, like he had felt, when he watched Arda a moment ago, only slightly different. Arda was something he wanted to conquer and control. Mairon had always served him willingly, having joined his side on his own accord. It made Melkor think that he would miss Sauron in that private Arda of his, that he had for now picked as a personal choice among the portals.

While Melkor was busy with his own thoughts, Sauron saluted him and then thanked him most gallantly for his restoration and rescue. The Dark Vala muttered some inaudible response of the "thou art welcome" kind, studying his loyal lieutenant with a smile. It was the least he could do to repay all the good work and loyalty of Mairon.

And yet after offering him the most sincere smile and the heartfelt expression of gratitude, Melkor's lieutenant looked at the Black Enemy of the World from the other side of the portal with sadness in his eyes, and revealed to Melkor that beside those words of gratitude, he had nothing more to offer.

"Forgive me, my lord, for I cannot return to thy service again." He said and his voice was filled with regret and sorrow, "These ages of darkness had me longing for nothing more than to turn the time and go back to where it all began. To once again be the blacksmith in the household of my former master Aulë."

Disenchantment and indignation mixed in Melkor. He watched Sauron with outrage and bitterness. Sauron, who had served him so loyally over the ages and ages, now rejecting him, was not at all something he could desire. How was this portal even related to the others? What kind of mad idea of Ilúvatar spawned this ridiculous vision?

Melkor turned in disdain and marched away, heading towards the other three portals between which he was going to decide. But even as he walked away, he heard Sauron's spirit being torn asunder and once more reduced to an agonized ghost of malice, wailing and growling as it resumed the eternal self-mutilation. Melkor stopped. He glared in front of himself, not at all pleased by the sounds, or the strange feeling they woke in him. It was not right, that Sauron should suffer now. He had served him true and well. If he wanted to leave now, Melkor could not blame him. They had lost after all.

And yet, it still hurt his pride and his... feelings that the Maia would renounce him now and wish to once more be the servant of Aulë. It upset him, that Sauron had lost his lust for destruction and his vigorous malice. When had that even transpired? Surely not before the Maia had been himself defeated and tormented for a long while, Melkor thought. Otherwise wouldn't have the Valar had pity on a repenting Ainu, who wished only to return to his duties?

Melkor glanced towards the portal, where the miserable shadow gnawed on itself, and he tried to take a step away from it, towards the other portals. But he discovered he could not. Melkor hung his head, feeling down. With a sigh he turned around and went to rest beside the portal with Sauron. The Dark Vala had not made up his mind completely on whether he wished to have Arda more than he desired the Silmarils, but he was certain his choice would rest on one of those two. Nonetheless, Sauron could as well rest from the torment for a moment, while he would be pondering on it.

After that, it took Melkor many an attempt to leave the portal, where Sauron was and approach one of the two gates that offered that which he desired, but even when the sorrowful wailing and bitter howling of the tormented ghost could no longer be heard, the memory of them clawed on Melkor's soul.

Would he feel more content with the Silmarils in his grasp or with Arda under his rule? Would the light of the jewels make him forget his lieutenant and the horrible fate he had been left to? Would he immerse himself in the affairs of Arda and his minor servants, the orcs, dragons and werewolves, thus forgetting the one most loyal servant, who had guarded and nurtured him in his darkest hours, asking for nothing in return? Could he really do that? Was that appealing?

Melkor tried to convince himself that of course it was. But even as he watched the volcanic land beyond the portal, that he previously filled him with such glee, the Dark Vala no longer found its desolation appealing. Arda all to himself seemed like a great idea at first, but with no Sauron by his side he would have no one to truly share it with. The Maia was perhaps the closest thing to an equal and friend he had ever had. And Melkor discovered that once experienced, the pleasure of having a loyal assistant and friend was not easily forgotten. He longed for the days, when he had just descended onto Arda, full of malice and energy, alone and proud, unaware of all the defeats and pains that awaited him in the future. Those early days of the world, that would be followed by all the downfalls, failures and ruin, through which Mairon had always stayed by his side. Never questioning, never abandoning him or looking down on him, no matter what.

And then he longed for a different time still, a darker time, when his form had been permanent, his hands burnt and his land under the siege of the Noldor. And in that time he had been alone no longer. The spirits of fire had always kept him company, his balrogs, of whom he had liked Gothmog the most. Melkor then realized, much to his displeasure, that they would not share this Arda with him now either. The thought made him feel strangely lonesome.

He had not felt that way, before he was locked in the Void. But now he knew the feeling and it made him long for those days long past, when he would feast with his Maiar, when Sauron and Gothmog would plan battles, while he would be idling beside them, feeding one of his wolves or dragons. The memories woke an ache in Melkor's spirit. He wished that he had spent more of his time with his lieutenants and his other allies, all of whom were lost to him now.

Those thoughts made Melkor leave the landscape of Arda that spread beyond the portal, feeling that the sight of magma flows and ashen skies would ever turn his mind towards days long gone, which he could not return, and towards Sauron, the only ally of his, whom he had personally doomed to suffering eternal.

Woebegone, did Melkor pace towards the vision of the Silmarils, trying to shake off the strange feeling of hopelessness and loneliness the sight of Arda his, and his alone now gave him.

Now, the jewels at least were something he had always desired for himself and himself only. If he had them, he could admire their light for eternity and no one would ever take them away from him. And neither would his mind stray to the other things he could possibly miss. How could it, when the essence of Arda would be in his very hands? He wondered if his hands would then be scorched again. And then his mind wandered towards the fateful night, when he had allowed Sauron into his bedroom after the conquest of the Silmarils. And countless other nights that followed, after his battle with Fingolfin. Nights on which Sauron would hold him in his arms and kiss Melkor's aching black hands...

Brooding the Dark Vala paced between the four portals, gloom turning into frustration, turning into despair. He could not leave Mairon to his torment. His lieutenant did not deserve it. And Melkor knew that he would feel no joy from whichever path he took if the image of the tormented Ainu was to haunt him forever. It was ridiculous! He did not wish to free Sauron so that the Maia left him to serve Aulë!

He could not have his lieutenant back, Melkor reminded himself as he passed the portal, where Sauron once again restored to his usual form on his master's approach followed Melkor with his eyes. If he chose to free the Maia, he would most likely never meet him again. Or at least, surely Sauron would not serve him. It would be a pointless bit of mercy, a waste of his wish. Because Melkor saw clearly now he had to chose a parting gift from Ilúvatar. And freeing his loyal lieutenant from torment just to have him walk out on you did not sound like a gift at all.

Melkor seethed as he walked away from that most disturbing portal to the sound of Sauron's agonized cries. His steps stopped and Melkor shut his eyes, blocking his vision and then trying not to hear. It did not help. Even when he could not hear Mairon, his memory brought back both the image of his tortured, tattered form and his tormented screams and pitiful howls. Melkor could not take it anymore. He turned around and paced back towards the portal, until Sauron was restored and silent once more, looking at him with a thankful smile.

Melkor stood at the threshold, glaring at his servant. Why was the Black Foe of the World suddenly moved to pity? Now of all times, when at last he could have everything he had ever wished for? Melkor detested himself for this terribly timed weakness. He wanted to hate Sauron for rejecting him and just walk away, picking Arda or the Silmarils, he really didn't care anymore, which one of the two exactly. But when he looked at Mairon's familiar image, he simply could not be angry at the Maia. Not only was the sight of his lieutenant stirring odd, warm and comforting memories - Sauron beyond the portal was actually smiling at him.

It was a sad, apologetic smile. No words needed to be spoken for Melkor to know the meaning of it. Mairon had been true to him, had respected and worshipped him, but now it was the time for him to go down a different path. And he honestly told it to Melkor. Honesty, loyalty, efficiency, those were qualities Melkor always appreciated about his second-in-command. The Maia had never failed or betrayed him. And now, in all sincerity, no matter what Melkor picked, Sauron's service would no longer be required. Besides, it appeared that it had lasted centuries past the War of Wrath and that already was too much to ask for.

Melkor's just recently unburdened shoulders sagged again, as he stared beyond the portal, torn between his old desires and the suddenly awakened conscience.

* * *

If Sauron had not been so uncertain about his master's fate at that moment, seeing himself renounce loyalty to Melkor in such a way, he would have laughed perhaps. It was beyond him that Melkor would not see through the illusion at that point and know better than to mistake the apparition for Sauron. And yet the indignation that appeared on his master's face when he first heard Sauron's wish, told the Maia otherwise - the Vala truly believed what he saw.

The Maia sighed to himself. Melkor had always found much enjoyment in lying and deceiving others but he had also very easily fallen victim to lies and deceptions, particularly when in his pride he sometimes chose not to ask his lieutenant for advice.

Yet aside from the dark Vala's apparent gullibility - unless such was the power and credibility of the vision woven by Eru - there was one more thing that worried Sauron. By the time they all beheld fourth and final portal unfold before Melkor, the Maia had already become almost convinced that what many of the other Ainur still thought to be a choice of a destiny for them and Eä, was in fact solely a test meant to determine the fate of his master. That it was a trial that better than any battle would decide if the only dark Vala was meant to truly cease to exist.

And regardless of whether one would assume it to be a staged test or a real deciding of the world's future, beholding the choices that were now given to the Vala, Sauron could easily tell, which one was the one Melkor should make.

The right choice was trivial. So trivial that it hurt all the more to know the Vala would not make it.

Watching the scene, the Maia felt a dull ache inside his being. Once upon a time, long, long ages ago, he had given his heart and soul to the Black Enemy. And even though Melkor had never truly understood it and considered it to be just another tribute he had simply deserved, allowed to stay by his side the Maia had grown to know the dark Vala better than had all others.

The first three portals spoke to Melkor's vanity and pride, to his greed and his desire to possess and conquer. The fourth one... the fourth spoke to no trait of Melkor's. It asked the Vala to forsake everything he ever desired to free a tormented spirit and watch it walk away forever. It promised no reward, no bounty.

To choose the final gate was to act selfless. To chose it was not to act like Melkor.

If the Valar had thought that eternity in the Void was going to change their brother, Melkor had already proven them wrong during Dagor Dagorath. The Void had taught the Vala the only thing it could teach him. Hatred more powerful, craving more desperate.

And now he could have everything that he had been deprived of and denied.

The dark Vala that Sauron had known would never agree to forsake such tantalizing promises of power. Not even if instead of rejecting him, the Maia swore his allegiance and pledged to still serve him. It was only natural for Melkor to make a choice that would please only him and disregard all others. Sauron expected nothing less of the Black Enemy of the World.

Why then was Melkor even lingering before the last gate? Why was he turning away and back towards it? It wasn't anything like Melkor to take pity on others, even the ones most loyal to him. Or had he perhaps realized by now, as had Sauron, that it was all just a game of some sort and even though he was being drawn to the promise of his kingdom on Arda, cunning as he was, the Vala simply knew what was expected of him and would do it simply to make a good impression?

With all those helpless thoughts rushing across his head, Sauron watched his master silently pace between the portals, afraid that if Melkor was to make the wrong choice, once more he would be too far away to save him.

* * *

Melkor's choosing was not yet final, though. As he stood in front of the vision of Sauron, he glanced back towards the other three portals and discovered them gone, replaced by a larger portal, beyond which even from where he stood he could see all that he craved for: his Arda, the kneeling Valar and the offer of the Silmarils. The jewels were already fixed in his dark crown, that was being offered to him by kneeling Manwë.

Melkor was so shocked by the vision, that he gasped and turned to behold it fully.

The image was vast and vivid. It was one huge doorway before him, offering all he could possibly wish for. All in one. He was so stunned by it that he almost took a step towards it, but then a little voice at the back of his head wailed and moaned and shuddering, the Vala turned back to look at Sauron.

Despair gripped Melkor. But how could he possibly refuse the offer of both Arda and the Silmarils? He turned back towards the vast portal again. In it, the vision was changing. As he lingered in one place, delaying the choice, the Valar stood upright again and Yavanna took away the iron crown, that fell to ashes in her hands, freeing the Silmarils, which she was just about to shatter, as behind her back and the backs of the other Valar, Arda once again began falling into nothingness.

"Nay!" Melkor shouted and took a few steps towards the vision.

Arda was mended, the crown and the Silmarils once again waiting and the Valar kneeling. But at that very moment, a long tortured cry came from behind him, where Sauron's torment resumed. And Melkor dropped on the floor of darkness, clawing at his own being, torn between what he wanted for himself and what he wanted for another.

A moment later, restless, like a beast caught between fire and steel, Melkor crawled on the floor of darkness, trying to find a middle ground between the two visions, where he could find some peace.

He did not want Arda. Or the Silmarils. Not if that left Gorthaur to torment eternal. It simply would not be enjoyable to rule the Valar in his crown adorned with Silmarils, shaping Arda to his design, while he knew that the only living creature he had not himself conquered, the only creature he ever truly liked... one he did not want to lose... one he discovered he cared for, would be an agonized wraith for all eternity.

Melkor rose resigned. Step after step he walked away from the grand gateway, to the sound of jewels shattering, that tore at his heart, the sound of Arda falling apart into non-existence, that pierced it more painfully than Túrin's sword ever could and to the sound of Tulkas' mocking laughter, that made him once more taste defeat, that was his destiny. Melkor stopped before the threshold of the small, dark portal and looked back one final time. Silence fell and the appealing vision was restored, beckoning him once more.

But the dark Vala turned away from it and stepped through the archway and into the darkness to face Sauron.

 * * *

And in the very moment as Melkor made his decision, to the shock of the Valar and Maiar, who had been watching their fallen brother with growing surprise and rising murmurs, Mairon vanished from among them and appeared before his master.

Melkor, tricked by the illusion created by Ilúvatar, did not notice a change in the Maia before him and resigned, but strangely light-hearted, he now spoke to him, "It is I who should thank thee, Mairon, for thy service and thy loyalty. Be free from thy torment and do, what thou desirest."

Mairon looked at his lord in surprise. In one moment he was a world away, looking at Melkor from outside of a vision that all the Ainur were beholding and in the other... he was here, so close to his master that he could see that the ghostly figure of Melkor, stripped of flesh, no longer bore the scars and burns of his mortal shape. Once again, like at the beginning of times Melkor was a being of darkness, ice and fire, yet he was not restored in his power or his stature. His spirit remained reduced, as it had been ever since the rape of the Silmarils, perhaps even more so, as Melkor had continued spreading his essence over Arda until his very fall.

Still, even diminished as he now was Melkor was still an impressive creature, a renegade Power, and he stood straight and proud. Even though not quite as proud as Sauron remembered him. For once the Black Foe of the World appeared jaded and wearied to his very core, yet he was not lifeless and even managed a semblance of a bitter smile at the sight of his loyal servant, whom he had chosen over all the treasures of Arda, despite the knowledge that the Maia would abandon him.

As he stood there in front of the Vala, whom he had not seen for a whole eternity, beholding Melkor almost as he first had seen him, the image stirred memories so distant that for a moment Mairon forgot to speak, forgot that he had been recently addressed. Instead, looking at his former master, the Maia wondered, why Melkor had made this choice.

Had he known he had been put to a test of sorts? Had it all been a cunning display for the Valar, had the hesitation too been a part of the show? Had his master chosen to free him only because he saw through his own enemy's plans and knew, crafty as always, that the choice most unappealing was the one with which some real prize and salvation would come, a choice that Eru wanted him to make?

Or could it be real? Had Melkor changed over those centuries, when he had been trapped behind the Door of the Night - and now instead of his own kingdom and treasure, he had really chosen a reality where Sauron walks away... just to save him?

Pondering on those matters and beholding the sight of Melkor, Mairon still remained silent.

Melkor furrowed his eyebrows, perplexed by his former servant's silence and immobility. "Don't dread my vengeance and act freely, Mairon. If that is thy desire, I free thee from my service," Melkor said with a sigh and his metaphorical shoulders sagged.

Melkor's voice rang in his ears and it finally brought the Maia out of his reverie and back to where he was - and standing there, suddenly he realized that after long millennia, he truly was facing his master once more.

With that realization came a flood of thoughts, memories, emotions. There were a thousand things he could now say - he could tell Melkor about the illusion, tell him it all had just been a trickery of some sort, assure him that he would not wish to abandon his side, or ask him whether he had indeed seen through this vision himself already... Instead of any of those things though, Sauron asked quietly an altogether different question, choosing not to yet break this intricately woven strange reality and use it rather, wishing to better understand, wishing to know.

"Why hast thou chosen to free me, master when thou could'st have had everything else instead?" Even now as he asked this question, Sauron knew that his master - if he had been aware that he was being tested - could just come up with yet another lie, to make a positive impression on the watching Valar. But Sauron fancied that from such close a distance, from where he could watch Melkor's face and eyes, he would know a lie apart from a half-truth.

Melkor cringed. It was one thing to admit to himself he would not be content or at rest with all he desired, knowing that it came at a price of his lieutenant's eternal suffering. Speaking his thoughts out loud, and admitting his weakness and his folly to another was however a whole different matter.

Perhaps it had all been some kind of trap after all. Perhaps total annihilation awaited him beyond all the other three portals and the final grand one. Perhaps not, and he had just given up on everything he had ever wanted to rescue a servant, who would any moment now turn away from him. That brought bitterness into Melkor's heart and features and he crossed his arms on his chest, looking at Sauron sternly. "Do not question my judgement, Mairon," the Dark Vala said, looking proud and stubborn like he had been for all the ages they spent plotting together. These were the words he used on those rare occasions, when he did something out of fear of his enemies or some other weakness he did not wish to admit.

But then in the eyes of his lieutenant, Melkor saw surprise. Sauron recognized the words for what they were and to his own astonishment he understood that his master made this choice for real. Why else would he not tell some smooth lie instead, for the Valar to hear and praise him?

Melkor had truly chosen saving him over anything else he had desired.

Something stirred in the Maia's heart at that realization, a feeling long forgotten and he smiled to his master, nodding his head, "Yes, my liege," he said to Melkor, letting his smile reach his eyes.

Melkor's cold proud look faltered and he looked at the Maia with doubt and a ghost of hope. "Hast thou failed to grasp my meaning? I am not thy liege anymore, Mairon. Thou canst now depart and serve Aulë if thou so fanciest, I am not holding thee back," Melkor said, anxiety and hope mixing in his features and tone. He had not even considered that Sauron would change his mind and now suddenly he feared another disenchantment, or worse even, prolonging of this false hope.

He gestured forward with his arms. "Go, Mairon. I hold no power over thee," he said again. And that was true, he never aimed to dominate the Maia, it had never been needed.

Seeing the lost expression on the Vala's face, Sauron felt strange joy and longing tugging at his entire being. It was a final confirmation for him that it was real and not for play - Melkor had never been a very good actor, it was merely that the Valar had always been much too naive. And even though it was not what he had expected of his lord and the mastermind of evil, even though he was in no real peril, not anymore, and thus Melkor had not really saved him, Mairon was thankful and glad somehow, that as strange and incomprehensible as it still seemed, his master would abandon all else for him.

"In fact, I fancy no such thing, master" Sauron said, his eyes still smiling, "I had chosen to serve thee once and my choice was on that day final and holds today still. I do not wish, nor ever could I wish to walk away from thee, Melkor. Not even now, when everything else is gone and we both stand trial before Eru, our father. All what thou hast seen here now, the choice thou hast made, the things thou hast been offered, was a test of some kind, yet even now I know not the outcome. The only thing I truly know is that regardless of what thou had heard me say, I will always, as long as I exist, stand by thy side."

It was Melkor's turn to be surprised. He listened to Sauron with growing bafflement and then looked around himself, partially expecting to see Eru or the other Valar looming over them. But there was no one but Sauron in the darkness with him. And it was not like he even cared for the opinions of his enemies. They would always think only the worst of him. So if they wished to spy on him and Mairon now, let them. The news that Sauron was not leaving his side brought more joy to the dark Vala than the knowledge that what he had rejected would not have been given to him anyway.

Melkor crossed the distance between them and stopped right in front of his lieutenant, smiling brilliantly, relieved and elevated.

"Mairon," he said softly and lifted a hand to trace the side of the Maia's face with his fingers, ensuring that the other Ainu was real. Melkor's eyebrows furrowed and a strange happy restlessness came over him. Then slowly and hesitantly he took one more step towards Sauron and spread his arms, embracing the Maia and resting his head on Mairon's shoulder.

And Mairon too embraced him there and then, in this little world, where the only thing true was the two of them. And suddenly more memories came rushing in, rippling across his spirit, flooding his mind with warmth and making his heart beat and his hand bury in Melkor's ghostly hair as he held his master in his arms, still disbelieving that this moment had been given to them. Still not knowing to what end Melkor had arrived - not knowing whether this was a welcome or a final farewell. And thus he held onto the Vala, as if any moment the other Ainu could just vanish into the nothingness again.

And Melkor shut his eyes and clung to him desperately, too. He felt the uncertainty as well and dreaded that they would be separated now, that this was yet another cruel joke, that once more he would be locked away beyond the Door of Night or in some other prison of dark and solitude.

* * *

When finally he opened his eyes, Melkor saw that they were not alone. They stood in the halls of Ilúvatar, before Eru's throne. All of the Ainur were gathered there. But instead of trying to uphold some appearances and let go of his lieutenant, Melkor only lifted his head and withdrew just one step so that his hands still held Mairon firmly and Mairon's arms were still around him. Standing like that, Melkor looked up at their creator with a proud and challenging look. He would not bend to the will of Ilúvatar, and he would not let them take Sauron away from him, as long as it was the Maia's own wish to remain by his side.

And then Ilúvatar began to speak and all of them harkened. The Father of All spoke of the end of the old Arda, and the beginning of a new one, Arda Envinyanta, Arda Healed. A world that was to be brought forward by the music of the Ainur, the Eldar and the mortal races. And then it was that another mystery of Ilúvatar's wisdom was revealed to them. The world that was to come into being would not be like the Arda Unmarred, for the discord of the music of Melkor would not be a part of it.

Those words chilled Melkor's soul, as he thought he grasped the meaning of them. Some dark fate awaited him after all and he clutched onto Mairon, fearful and desperate, not wanting to be parted from the one he longed for more than Arda or the Silmarils. Sauron too held him still as they both hearkened to the words of the Allfather.

But then Ilúvatar continued and Melkor's fear turned into astonishment. All of the Ainur were to sing again, and Melkor with them. Yet, Ilúvatar proclaimed there would be no more discord in Melkor's music, for the free and rebellious Vala in his revolt and his downfall now regained the harmony he had lost, as he had in the beginning of time risen in power above his brethren. Melkor could not grasp the meaning of those words, and neither could most of the gathered Ainur, but such was the will of Eru, and it was enough to soothe Melkor's fears.

The living and dead spirits of Men, Elves, Dwarves and other races had left Arda and the Halls of Mandos now and were within the halls of Eru, waiting for a new Arda to be sung into being and thus the shattering of the old world was at hand.

The vision of Arda in its full tarnished glory appeared before them as it crumbled and the spirit of Fëanor traversed its vastness to recover the jewels he had crafted. Yet, as the substance of Arda became naught, and the Silmarils were presented to the Valar, Melkor and Sauron could hardly pay those happenings any heed, for as the ruin of the world took place, Melkor's essence that had been locked inside it, was set free and now it returned to the Dark Vala, deafening and blinding him. Shaking, he clutched onto Sauron, unseeing eyes staring up, as energy from the dying world flowed into him, restoring him to his full power and glory, long ago lost in his struggle against the will of Ilúvatar.

Arda, that had always been Melkor's Ring, was being utterly and finally destroyed, and the power that he had long ago channeled into it, was released, changed and aged as it was it flowed back into its master.

Melkor lost sight and hearing and could not tell the flow of time, as the countless lives of the creatures and men he had tainted flashed before him. The dark and vile acts without a feeling of guilt blurred and faded into darkness, but the occasional doubt, the flashes of loyalty, nobility and remorse shone on them as stars in the dark summer sky. Tears flowed out of Melkor's eyes as his very being responded to those sentiments. The decision to free Sauron, forsaking treasures he had deemed real was of the same kind, a hope of redemption made possible despite his previous misdoings.

Given freedom to destroy and dominate in the end even Melkor had learned to appreciate another, to care for another more than he cared for his own comforts.

It was a fundamental discovery for the Vala and now he made it all over in the countless lives he had affected. He saw the beauty in the things he had wrought, once they were tangled into the creation of the others. The mountains and the seas of Arda, that had been planned orderly and strict, were made all the more beautiful after he had twisted and altered them, added the freedom and unpredictability to them. His chaotic nature could not be changed, it was the essence of him, it was the purpose Ilúvatar had put in him. Yet, his malevolence was not his core function. It had been a means. A means for the Vala to stray far off the path by his own free will and then by it again, unforced, unpressed rediscover it and repent.

And Melkor repented, to an extent. He did not desire to undo what he had done, but neither did he feel the need to rebel for the sake of the rebellion itself. His connection with the other Ainur and the will of Eru was restored, his wisdom had grown. But even now he would not notice the change and would remain his own master.

As the last rock, tree, drop of water and gust of air of Arda Marred was no more, Melkor could finally see and hear again and he discovered he was still in Mairon's arms, and that his power had grown to its cosmic level, like it had been, when he had first descended onto Arda.

Melkor felt suddenly fresh and young and yet much older and wiser. But his vitality and chaos burned bright in him, and the Maia before him was now like a little ant compared to his divine glory. But having learnt to appreciate Sauron for what he was, Melkor felt all the warmth and comfort in his loyal Maia's embrace that he had felt when he was just a wraith of his former self moments before, while Arda had still stood.

Paying no heed to the Valar or Eru, Melkor stepped closer towards Mairon again and embraced him. "I do not wish thou to be my servant, Mairon. Let us be companions, friends and equals instead," Melkor proposed softly.

Sauron... nay, not Sauron anymore but Mairon again, beheld with awe as right in front of him the stunning change took place in the Vala. Now his master as well was no longer Morgoth, he was Melkor, He Who Arises in Might - purified of some of his darkness, as he was now brought back to the beginning, restored to his former might and glory. Beside him, Mairon was now - like once in the dawn of Arda - nothing more than a minor spirit, one that Melkor could destroy with ease should he only desire.

But Mairon was not frightened and he did not step away intimidated. Neither did he let the Vala out of his arms. He had respected and admired Melkor through times of his greatest weakness all the same as he respected him now that the Vala was one of the Powers again. But this time, unlike in the beginning of days, when everything was new and Melkor was too distant and too powerful for Mairon to even dare to approach him - this time, after millennia of hopeless longing, the Maia was no longer hesitant to dare to look at Melkor. No longer afraid to reach out and touch.

And at Melkor's words he smiled, closing his eyes and embracing his former master and his truest friend, and paying no heed to the Valar and the Maiar around them, he whispered into the Vala's ear, "Let it be so, my friend of old."

Melkor smiled and held Mairon in his own embrace, feeling at home and even more complete now that he was in the arms of another.

Soon it was time for the Ainur and all the Children of Eru to sing, and Melkor and Mairon joined them, holding hands, as they stood side by side. And then the balrogs and other spirits of flame, that had perished ages ago and had returned to Eru, their maker, now joined Melkor's side, like they had before the creation of Arda. The joy of Melkor knew no bounds, as he regained not only his oldest friend, but all of them, all whom he had believed to be forever gone.

And thus now he stood amongst his allies of old and no precious jewels or the entirety of Arda could compare to the gladness he felt in their company. Once again they would sing with him, and where he would lead, they would follow. In that moment Melkor was the gladdest of all beings in the halls of Eru.

And this time, when the singing began, the music of Melkor once more strayed from the melody of Ilúvatar, but it did not conflict with the song of the other Ainur, it entwined with it, enriching the organized choir, giving the creation more soul, vitality and ability to change for good or for evil, but also a never-dying hope for redemption, should the dark path be chosen. For Melkor had chosen the darkest path and payed for it with suffering and defeat. And in his downfall, his struggle and his solitude he had learnt to appreciate and care about beings other than himself, though he himself did not yet comprehend it.

Standing beside him, as the Maiar mixed with the Valar, Mairon sang with Melkor, his voice loud and clear, entangling and interweaving with Melkor's own, complementing his former master's melody, bringing more order to where there was haste and adding in it the notes and ideas which Melkor accidentally skipped over or forgot in his elation, as he always had done.

Together with the spirits of fire, they sang in the sea of others and their song was just one thread in the endless, beautiful tapestry of light and life woven anew by a thousand voices.

The Ainur sang in their orderly fashion, all feeling the design of Ilúvatar and following its pattern closely at first. But as Melkor's song entwined with theirs, once again some, hesitated. And they watched Eru Ilúvatar to see if this time the music of Melkor was indeed a part of his intention.

And seeing content in the face of their maker, many spirits joined Melkor's song and timidly attempted to derive their own ideas from it, enriching the forming world with all the more wonders and hidden treasures and possibilities. None of them however dared to improvise as bravely as Mairon did, but with every moment many more of the Ainur, Eldar and mortals felt the harmony that such mindful straying from the main melody created and they joined in, adding a note here and there, among the main melodies of the Valar.

This time it took a single song to bring the world into being. Its sight baffled the Valar, for it was bare and yet it was not symmetrical, like Arda Unmarred had been. Already there were rises and falls in the plains of the leafless world without rivers or seas or mountains. And as they watched it, it seemed to already be alive, awaiting them, like a child or a young cub of a beast, a sprout waiting to be nurtured into maturity.

And thus the Ainur poured into the world, impatient to begin their labors. And Melkor and Mairon went with them. Side by side, they descended onto the world together and while it took legions of dwarves to raise the mountains in one region, in another part of the new Arda a simple passing of Melkor made the snow capped ridges rise. But with them they brought no marring and no destruction of the work of other Ainur, for this time Melkor was mindful of the others and wished no conflict with them. And the Valar let him and Mairon and all those that joined them work on separate parts of the world, where they would not bother the lesser races that despite their minor power helped with great enthusiasm in the building of the new world.

When the first mountains of Melkor and his followers had been raised into the air, Ulmo and his helpers set to work on the rivers that would flow from the bright white mountain glaciers and slowly fill the seas. Then Melkor and his former lieutenant rested on a hill by the foot of one of the mountains, where a Maia of Yavanna had recently planted saplings of trees. Melkor's power made the saplings nearby shoot towards the sky, growing in a matter of moments to adulthood, turning into thick-trunked trees with numerous twisted branches. The first grass and trees sprung around them, offering some greenery in the otherwise still rather bleak world. And on the grass, among the roots of one of the vast trees, the two Ainur put on mortal shapes and rested side by side, watching the rivers and lakes slowly fill up in the distance, fresh, clean water glittering in the dim light that the flight of the Ainur had left in the sky. It would serve until the final means to light the new world were established.

Melkor smiled, as he reclined against Mairon, moving closer to the Maia and resting his head on his companion's shoulder. Never before had he felt this peaceful or content. There was much work ahead of them, but now none would hinder them and the ambitiousness of his plans was to be Melkor's only challenger.

"There is so much I want to know, Mairon," Melkor said softly, tilting his head to look at the Maia beside him. "When I came out of the Door of Night, Arda looked so different. How long didst thou last after my fall? What didst thou manage to accomplish? I do not desire to rekindle the old animosities between us, the other Ainur and the lesser races, but there is so much I have missed. Thou wilt have to tell me all about it," Melkor said. "Thoughts that thou might still be out there wreaking havoc comforted me in my prison, Mairon... as did thoughts of thee simply being alive and well, not sharing the punishment I received."

Mairon, who had been leaning against the trunk of the tree with his eyes closed, enjoying the texture of the bark against the mortal form, in which he was clad for the first time in so many centuries, now cracked his eyelids open and looked down at the fiery Vala reclining against his shoulder. "There is much to be told, yet not much to be proud of." The Maia said with a sigh and turned his eyes away from his former master, letting his gaze wander towards the sparkling crystalline waters in the distance, "After thy fall, I went to extremes to keep thy dominion from being swallowed by light, yet in the end a Silmaril of sorts had become my undoing."

"A Silmaril?" Alert at once, Melkor's sat up upright and arched his eyebrows at him. "But Fëanor had been long gone by that time! Or had he not..." The Vala frowned in confusion.

"He was indeed. But it was not a Silmaril - I merely named it to compare. The bane of me was not a jewel but a ring and of none other's but my own craft and device." The Maia beheld Melkor's overly curious expression with a spark of amusement and gladness. Even though the memories of the old times they now began to once more stir, still felt grim and bitter, all of it was now in the past and the funny furrow of Melkor's eyebrows suddenly mattered so much more than entire centuries of laborious construction, battles and bloody victories.

The Maia was still taken aback by the ease with which he had re-prioritized all of his objectives, scrapped and discarded all the faded notions of power and struggle, all his unfinished plans for war and conquest, focusing all his being on Melkor instead. Melkor, who sat beside him, whose fiery restless head had just a moment ago briefly rested on his shoulder. Melkor who was going to riddle him with a hundred more questions before his curiosity was even half-satisfied and who was going to anyway forget to even listen to half of the answers.

The Maia smiled in his spirit. Watching his former lord, the once more mighty but still as hot-headed Ainu, he knew why it had been so easy to leave the darkness, lies, power and control behind.

The fiery Vala had always been his one and only real purpose. Everything that he had done in the ages between Melkor's capture and his own fall was just means of achieving that purpose, of somehow, in some way reaching Melkor, of making the world ready for his comeback. And with Melkor at his side, everything else just ceased to matter.

And yet now that the distance between them was no longer the cold and unscalable vastness of space and time but a patch of soft, young grass, it all felt too surreal.

That they had been forgiven and let back into the light from, from which they had once strayed, that they were there, among the other Ainur, allowed to shape the new Arda to their liking, was impossible. Irrational. That they sung side by side in the Second Great Music, that Melkor was once more counted into the pantheon of the Valar - it was beyond all fathom, it felt fallacious.

And yet it was real, for such had been the choice and ineffable mercy of Eru.

The Maia knew that of the two of them, Melkor would be the first one to forget the malicious dark ways and to truly adapt to this new existence - he had always been the force for change in nature, he was chaos incarnate, driven by passion, and he dwelt never long on anything, and neither would he deliberate for long even on notion so complex and monumental, as being let to choose his path anew and recoin his own destiny.

Melkor was going to just embrace it and dive right into it, he was going to make new ideas and new places and enjoy each and every moment of the new creations, Mairon knew that and he was glad.

The Maia himself, in turn, would however take a long time to let go of all the past. He had always been abiding by the rules, forming and executing plans, meeting deadlines, following the ways of logic. Logic that he was trying to find even now, as they sat together among the trees.

The design of Eru was however flawless in its very assumption. Nothing could there be, no theme in the music and no creature or thing in the world that had not its uttermost source in Him, the Allfather. After dark millennia of struggle against that notion, of trying to prove it false, they now knew it to be true. They would of course not discuss it, not admit it out loud, not yet at least - but deep inside their beings, each in his own way, they both knew it.

The Flame Imperishable burnt in their souls now the same way it always had. For just like the other Ainur they had always been and forever will be the offspring of Eru Ilúvatar - the one, who did not err in his creation, the one who did not falter.

Somehow, it all had been intended, it had all been destined to be this way, they were to go the darkest road and to fall low. To learn all they had learnt.

But Mairon let go of even those thoughts now, for they did not matter either. Not yet or not anymore, not now, when Melkor was at his side, so close that he could reach out and touch him and just as expected he was asking him question after question.

The news of no new Silmarils having been made during his absence visibly calmed Melkor down and he relaxed. "How so, Mairon? Hath thou crafted a ring so fine it captured thy attention and distracted thou from thy schemes and plans?" the Vala tried to guess, remembering how in the ages past he himself would tirelessly gaze upon the Silmarils, forgetting about all else.

"Nearly. And yet even worse." Mairon said with a small smirk and heavy self-criticism apparent in his tone - he had always been striving for optimizing and for perfection and thus forgetting his own mistakes always came the hardest. In fact he would never forget them, he knew now better than ever that they had been a lesson and he was going to remember them, learn from them and never again repeat them. "In my struggle to rebuild thy kingdom I had a masterplan and the ring was to help me implement it, yet not all my calculations proved precise enough and I followed an errant path that in the end led me to downfall. During its making I have poured a part of my own power and spirit into the ring, yet centuries later suddenly that power proved to be all that was left at my disposal. At that time I lost another battle and the ring was taken from me. I recovered. Yet the search for the ring had captured my mind and in it I lost myself and my purpose." The Maia's face darkened a bit with those memories. They might have not mattered anymore, for Melkor was now with him, and yet how could he ever forgive himself for ever forgetting the Vala?

Melkor regarded him with some doubt. "Why would'st thou take away thy own power and put it into-..." he trailed off, as he drew the parallel with his own power, that had been deposited into Arda. Melkor cleared his throat and pretended he hadn't started that sentence.

The Maia saved him the embarrassment and smiled, saying, "The story of ages between thy fall and mine, is much more complex, long and dark and I would rather save it for an evening one day in the future. But believe me, it was a good plan in the beginning. Or perhaps, a decent plan at least. For centuries the ring was a powerful tool in my hands and it was not the band itself but my miscalculations that did me in. Among those was the direct intervention of our Father. I never included him as a factor, when I modelled the future of Arda. I did not expect it, he had never intervened before that." Mairon shook his head. He smiled a little, relaxed despite the memories of that time.

On the ruinous path he had chosen, he had drowned, he had fallen. Many a time he had been destroyed and in the end, he had become crazed from the loss. Quite likewise had Melkor. Yet now they were restored, purified, the world around them was new and full of possibilities. He felt no hate, no stinging in his spirit, the past was just a lesson they both would learn from.

The fiery Vala felt a little envious that Eru deemed the Maia's evil reign more deserving of personal intervention, than his own, but chose not to voice that concern, instead turning his thoughts elsewhere. "Was that He, who had bent Arda? Was that because of thou?" the grudge left Melkor's thoughts as he found himself genuinely interested and impressed by his servant's... his former servant's escapades.

The Maia nodded. "It was indeed Eru. He bent the ways of the world, removing Valinor and Aman from the face of Arda, after I had sent fleet of descendants of the Edain to the Blessed Lands for them to find death and to gift death in return..." Mairon trailed off, with a hint of genuine sadness. Both he and Melkor in their conquest and vengeance had wrought so much evil and havoc onto the world that once could have had been perfect. The Maia looked at the Ainu sitting beside him and his thick dark eyebrows furrowed, "I never even hoped to be forgiven. Never hoped to be among the Valar again. All I had ever wished for was for thee to return."

Quietly Melkor dwelt on Mairon's first words, remembering how he lead the host of Men to Valinor, and how it - as it now appeared - had in fact come to them instead. It seemed that Mairon had indeed a lot to tell him. Melkor remained silent for a while, and then he looked up at the Maia and smiled. "Neither had I ever considered being granted forgiveness as an option... And yet it gave me strength to think thou wert out in the world in my stead, and it almost sounds like thou hast outdone me," Melkor praised his Maia and rested a hand on Mairon's strong shoulder.

"Nay, never would I have dared to." The Maia replied with amusement. He was indeed never one to brag, never the one to boast, not when it was about him and Melkor. He rested his palm against that of the other Ainu, taking Melkor's hand off his shoulder. And although he claimed not to dare outshine Melkor in the work of chaos and destruction, he dared a different deed, quite as bold, and slowly he brought the Vala's hand up to his lips. Letting his eyes fall closed, he kissed the inside of Melkor's pale, unmarred palm, allowing the Vala's fingers to ghost against his nose and his forehead.

Melkor frowned. That caress was familiar. "Thou hast done this before, if my memory doth not fail me. It puzzled me then, as it puzzles me now. What is the meaning of thy gesture?" he asked. But as the Maia let go of his hand, the Vala did not withdraw it. Instead he chose to run his fingertips over the side of Mairon's face. "Not that it is unwelcome," he added with a smile. It felt pleasant, even more pleasant now when his hands were no longer burnt and aching.

Mairon opened his eyes and looked at the other Ainu - and in his gaze there was something that no words could describe. Looking into those eyes, Melkor knew that Mairon would never leave his side, peering into them, he saw the same devotion and the same strange flames that had burnt inside the eyes of his lieutenant even in times before their parting.

"The meaning of it is very simple." The Maia said quietly, as his golden eyes found the dark flickering ones of Melkor. And then, Mairon spoke the words that never before had made it past his lips. "I love thee now, as I always loved thee."

Shaken, Melkor held those eyes, feeling lost and at the same time coming to understand so much. So love was the reason, why Mairon had remained loyal to him through all eternity, till death and beyond. Melkor did not understand love, but he had heard of it countless times, and oft he had seen Eldar and mortals go to extremes in the name of it. That Mairon too was prone to such feelings was a discovery for Melkor. The Vala finally looked away, frowning, as he struggled to make sense of this new knowledge. He still could not understand it. He understood admiration, possessiveness, obsession, desire, but those were not the same as that thing called affection, no matter how thin the borders were, this much he knew.

"The notion of love is still foreign to me, Mairon," Melkor confessed and finally looked up at the Maia. "But I have always valued thy devotion, and if it stems from love, I shall accept it gladly and always be grateful for it. I may not be able to requite thy feelings, yet if there is something I could do to repay thee, just speak," Melkor offered softly and smiled to his Maia. He knew not of love, but he knew longing and of fondness, for he had missed his Maiar, his beasts and Arda, and he was glad to once more be free and among allies.

But the Maia just smiled, and shook his head, "Thou wert willing to give up Arda and all its treasures just to save me. And to save me, when thou hast thought I would have turned away from thee. What more could I possibly ever ask for?" As he looked at the Vala his own words brought a sudden understanding. The things his former master said, the way he acted around him, the choice they all had seen him make... Was it not the proof enough that not even being aware of it, Melkor learnt to care for the fate of another?

Mairon lifted his palm to Melkor's face, and caressed the pale cheek of the Vala, brushing aside a stray wisp of soft flames. "And yet, indeed I can think of one wish that I still have. Thou needst not to do anything, Melkor. Just let me be thine." And yet as he spoke those words, the Maia waited not for permission or answer. He bowed towards the Vala and pressed his lips against Melkor's. For if he had had learnt one thing in the ages when his master was away, it was to take what he wanted.

Melkor's eyes fell shut and his arms wound around the Maia, as he responded to the kiss. They had shared many kisses in that short period when Melkor had both the Silmarils and his mind intact, yet this one felt different. Quickly he discovered that his once timid subordinate was acting with perfect confidence and in a manner that almost felt possessive. It puzzled the Vala, and at the same time it excited him, this new dominance that Mairon allowed himself. And thrilled beyond his expectation, Melkor let the Maia do as he pleased, clutching onto Mairon's sleeves as their lips touched again and again.

A moment later Melkor was breathless and a little light-headed and he withdrew from the kiss, still staying in Mairon's arms. "I shall gladly have thee. Yet it appears to me, that thou desirest to possess me, instead," the Vala half-snorted.

The Maia laughed. "I could possess thee no better than one can possess a wild, living flame. Thou could'st turn me to ashes if thou only wilt. And yet thou art right, Melkor, for I have indeed grown selfish and I wish to have thy blinding light and heat for myself, if only for a while and I wish to have thee burn for me. Yet all this only if thou wilt it, all this for thy own enjoyment, all this only at thy bidding." The Maia admitted his guilty thoughts. He had not dared to ask for it once, when their power was on equal level, and not even when he held upper hand over Melkor. Yet the ages spent apart from Melkor had made the Maia confident and brazen and thus he was asking for it now, when Melkor could once again smite his being from Arda with a flick of his wrist.

The Vala smirked. "Thou hast grown bold indeed, Mairon. Thou art in luck that I have changed also," Melkor shook his head, amused by his companion's words, and then his look softened and sadness lingered in his features. "In the Void, I have learnt that I missed thee and my other allies... nay, my friends of old. I have not even dreamt of regaining all of ye. I believed ye end as well as mine was final, that Eru wanted us destroyed. But now it appears to me, that perhaps all we had wrought on the old Arda was but preparation for this. That he had planned it all that way..." Melkor looked into the distance, but his mind was elsewhere, traversing the currents of time to revisit countless moments on the face of the old world that was no more.

Then he sighed and shook off the reverie, smiling. "Of course, I am no Manwë to read Eru's mind. Still, I do believe that we are secure now, as long as we do not oppose Him, of which I feel no more desire. And if we shall have to pay heed to the Valar and lesser beings, then well, it is a small price to pay for all of this," Melkor gestured beyond them, where the valley opened onto the vast land, that, though still half-formed was already looking like nothing either of them had seen on Arda. It was a land of diversity and majesty, of chaos and order, forming a beautiful vision full of contrasts, that combined in it both the things of the light that the Valar held dear and the sharp angles and extremes that Melkor so adored.

Mairon too directed his gaze to the far horizon. And for a long while he could not look away from the miracle of the creation that unfolded around them. For although there was no dark fortress looming beyond the newly created mountains, although there was no realm to reign over and no troops to command, he did not feel their lack in the new world they were creating and he knew that neither did Melkor.

There was still a lot of work to be done, and he knew that for many years or even decades to come they would be busy crafting and perfecting this new world. But this time there would be no strife and no chaos, the oceans would not boil, the dark fumes would not rise from black towers and the ice and death would not make all the living things wither and crumble to oblivion. This time they were going to use their power to make things great and beautiful, things that all could admire. Once again Mairon would follow Melkor and once again he would strive to finish what Melkor would start and leave behind, yet this time it would not be because of furious haste of his master's malice but simply because there were so many things to do and so many distractions all around.

And still more of them were to come soon.

Already there were falling leaves and proud trees, glittering lakes and silent ponds, meadows and cryptic forest paths paved with soft moss. And soon there were going to be birds in the skies and fish splashing in the water and various animals scurrying across the lands and finally perhaps Melkor would begin to notice all those things of small importance but great beauty.

"Hm, I think I may even hazard a guess, as to why we were forgiven." Mairon said slowly after a while, with his eyes still on the snow-capped mountains and the glittering lakes in the distance. Then he turned his face to Melkor, who meanwhile arched one fiery eyebrow at him, glancing at the Maia. "Arda could never truly be complete or alive without thee." Mairon continued, "We erred, yes, but other Valar did too, for they failed to comprehend thy significance and they refused thee. They tried to quench thy chaos and thy flame instead of embracing it, they chose to stay blind and saw not what I and thy other Maiar saw in thee. Now however their eyes have been opened, as are ours. Now we are all ready for this new world. And thou hast already given it such unique, spontaneous beauty."

The Vala beside Mairon seemed to burn brighter as he absorbed the praise. Melkor looked delighted, as he turned to Mairon fully, smiling brilliantly. But then the Maia's eyes were drawn to something behind the Vala. Through the emerald green of the grass around them fiery red flowers now sprouted, like little living flames, that swung gently in the breeze. Melkor remained oblivious to their presence. At least until he followed Mairon's surprised gaze and his own eyes widened, as for the first time he noticed objects so small and insignificant. He picked one fiery flower out of the ground, and showed it to Mairon in astonishment. "Look, Mairon! What is this queer little tree? I've never seen anything like this before."

And Mairon just laughed.

And then he told him.

* * *

Their labors lasted long and they hardly rested after that. Most of the landscape had been defined and creations of Yavanna were spreading over it, wherever they could set root. While the first rain poured from the skies to feed more water to the rivers and oceans still in the making, Melkor, Mairon and spirits of fire were helping the dwarves and Aulë in with their smithies under the mountains, forging the foundations of the new Arda.

And then, when their help underground was no longer needed, they discovered the world outside too wet for their liking. Thus Melkor created a palace on the side of the mountain from which they had come out, and there in the dark beautiful halls the Maiar and the Vala hid from the rain to rest from their long labors underground. The full power of Melkor was so vast, that not only were the halls he had created on a whim breathtaking and majestic, but they already held some subtler comforts, like drapings the color of fire and dark mirror-like floors, traced with magmatic veins, that provided heat and comfort to the Ainur that now spread through the halls, enjoying the warmth and dryness, that was felt all the more starkly, when one peered into the rain outside.

And that was exactly what the master of the palace was now doing. He was alone in a vast room warmed by a huge fireplace, where flames blazed on their own, needing no wood as long as the Vala was there. Just like in the other halls of the swiftly made palace, the walls, floor and ceiling were ebony with occasional fiery glow here and there. Candles burnt around the room, adding to the heat the hearth offered.

Melkor stood by an open window, peering into the heavy rain, embracing himself. He wore his physical form once more to better enjoy the contrast of the weather outside and the comfort of his newly made residence. It lacked the monumental size of his past fortresses, but this time he was not aiming to protect and isolate himself from things other than the rain.

Perhaps he would not hide from the rain forever either. Melkor pondered on that as he watched it fall outside. Once all things of the light had repelled him, but now they were all strange and new experiences, waiting to be discovered, like the flowers earlier. The Vala silently decided he rather liked flowers. He would not admit it to anyone, for it would cause bafflement in his allies and foes alike, but he did not intend to lie to himself. He liked this new existence and all the little things he was now beginning to notice, that he had overlooked in his war on Arda.

There was light sound of footsteps behind him, muffled by the heavy rainfall outside, and Mairon joined him in front of the open window, boldly but softly embracing the Vala from behind as he too looked out into the wet world, trying to make out shapes of trees somewhere beyond the wall of raindrops. The light breeze blew miniscule droplets onto their faces, and into Melkor's fiery hair and the Maia inhaled deeply, feeling freshness of the new world in the wind. Mairon said nothing for a while, just stood there, in front of the open window, holding Melkor in his warm, steady embrace.

And Melkor smiled and leaned against him, placing his hands upon Mairon's arms and resting his head on the Maia's shoulder. And then he remembered the day, when he had first stood like this with Mairon, and how nice it had felt to share the burden of the black iron crown with another. What a fool he had been, Melkor thought. How he had strived to feel pleased about the possession of jewels that burnt and burdened him, when all this time he had beside him a being, that loved and supported him.

Melkor felt his heart beat faster at that thought and leaned fully against Mairon's front, relishing in the warm embrace of strong, but gentle arms. Neither of them could see it, but outside a weed had sprung from under the window sill and was slowly climbing the window frame, buds of fiery flowers getting covered in drops of rain as soon as they sprouted.

"Mairon," Melkor whispered without opening his eyes and tilted his head, his lips remaining parted, inviting a kiss from the Maia.

Mairon bowed his head and he pressed his lips against the Vala's, accepting the invitation. As they kissed, his big yet careful fingers came to caress Melkor's neck and face. Then his arms slid down the Vala's body and his mouth left Melkor's lips, travelling down along the line of his jaw and moving down to the pale throat as the hands returned once again, all the way up to slowly undo the buttons on the collar of Melkor's robe to reveal more skin the Maia wanted to kiss.

Melkor panted and gripped Mairon's hair with one hand, while the other arm embraced the Maia and gripped his sleeves in turns, but did not stay his hands. Soon, Melkor's robe was half-undone and as Mairon kissed the pale skin of his shoulders and the Vala's breath became uneven, Melkor gripped Mairon's hair possessively and then carefully turned to face him. He stepped closer pressing against Mairon and kissed the Maia teasingly, guiding his arms under his robe, while Melkor's own fingers set to work on undoing Mairon's shirt.

A stray gust of wind flew inside again, unsettling strands of their hair but they paid no more heed to the wind and rain, too consumed with each other to notice anything else anymore. It was so much like in the days of old and so unlike it at the same time. Mairon's fingers first ghosted and then pressed firmly against the Vala's skin, sliding underneath the open robe, slowly moving up Melkor's sides, mapping and relearning his body. When the Vala was about to lose his patience with the buttons of Mairon's shirt and tear it open instead, the Maia stilled Melkor's hands and he lifted the Vala off the floor and he carried him in his arms to the bed.

There, letting the Vala rest and pressing him down into the soft silks, he bowed down and took another kiss from Melkor's lips. This time however it was not a soft, delicate kiss like before but one filled with hunger and longing of thousands of years apart.

Melkor moaned openly against his lips, pulling Mairon on top of himself and gripping the fabric of his half-open shirt, as he crushed his own lips against Mairon's, responding to the kiss with the same hunger. He had not been touched for millennia and with his newest discovery of Mairon's feelings for him, the desire only grew in Melkor. As they kissed he tugged Mairon's shirt off and crawled out of his own robe, as they moved further onto the bed. Soon both were bare and burning with lust. Once again, Melkor welcomed the Maia on top of himself, gladly letting the weight of Mairon's body press him into the sheets. Melkor's hands explored Mairon's form for a while, learning it, discovering. He had hardly ever touched Mairon, when he used the Maia's private services in the past - those were about pleasing himself. Right now however, he discovered that touching and caressing Mairon brought him great pleasure.

Letting Melkor's hands roam for a time being, Mairon finally put an end to their venture, bringing them up and pinning them into the bed above the Vala's head, groaning with desire as he took in the sight of his former master beneath him. The Maia had never been so bold as on this rainy day but then again, he was a servant to the Vala no more.

As one of his hands still held Melkor's wrists, his free palm took the hold of Melkor's chin and once again his mouth roughly claimed the Vala's.

And his Vala did not at all mind to be restrained. In fact, Melkor looked up at him with a most clear thrill, desire and seduction in his features. As their lips met with bruising force, Melkor moaned and kissed Mairon hungrily, parting his legs for the Maia above him, surrendering his body to the other Ainu fully. "Ah, Mairon, the fire of my heart," Melkor whispered, drunk with desire.

And Mairon's eyes were filled with blazing fire indeed. He gazed at Melkor from above and it seemed that he would devour him with his eyes alone. Yet instead, he just looked at him and then letting go of his hands, reached out and softly touched the Vala's face, stroking Melkor's slightly parted lips with his thumb. The fleeting moment of tenderness lasted for brief seconds and when it ended they were kissing again and Mairon's hand was moving between Melkor's legs, his tongue licking the moans off the Vala's lips as the rain and wind swept across the world outside.

Melkor's groans were abundant. As shameless as ever, the Vala shifted under Mairon, arching against the touch, while Melkor's hands, now free, travelled from the Maia's face, down his neck, his chest and towards his loins, clearly intending to repay the Maia in his own coin.

But Mairon thwarted that attempt and shifted, his strong hands spreading the Vala's legs wide apart as he settled between them, dragging his former master down by his thighs and then moving up to loom above the Vala again, lust and flames in his eyes. Ages of reigning over his own kingdom of darkness had turned the once obedient lieutenant of Melkor into a bold and confident being. The more confident now that he finally could have what he wanted. Yet even as he swooped down on Melkor in the likeness of a hungry fell wolf, propped on one arm while the other gripped the fiery hair and turned the Vala's head to the side, pressing it down into the pillows, he paused with his lips ever so close to the Vala's ear to merely let out a husky whisper, "If thou wishest not for me take thee, Melkor, this is the moment to speak."

The heart of Melkor beat so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest. Never had he felt such a satisfying thrill. His loyal, obedient Mairon was suddenly acting like his equal, or his superior. Should have anyone else whispered such words into Melkor's ear, they would have been turned to ashes instantly, or suffered a fate far far worse. But it was Mairon. And so instead of voicing agreement, Melkor only leered at his former lieutenant slyly, remaining silent and thus giving Mairon his permission. He knew what the Maia meant and he desired this union himself. Even more so with Mairon suddenly taking the lead.

A narrowed, fiery eye regarded him carefully for a moment, as Mairon's face lingered close, the fingers gripping Melkor's hair for just a moment longer before they let go. He never quite gave the Vala his freedom back though, as his retreat was just to shift once more. His hand gripped and gathered the silky covers now, pushing them under Melkor and he lifted one of the Vala's legs higher, as with a groan of anticipation he positioned himself above his lord of old. "So be it then," he said darkly and then slowly, he thrust inside him, pressing the Vala into the silks and pillows.

Melkor gasped and bit his lip, failing to suppress a loud moan. His corporeal form flickered below Mairon. Melkor's fingers gripped the pillow by the sides of his head and he breathed in deeply, trying to relax and then moaned again, eyes shutting tight. "M-Mairon," Melkor's voice was filled with bliss and desire and at the same time tinted with anxiety. This union now felt very different from anything they had explored in the dungeons of Angband, and even those experiences were but a few faded memories of ages ago.

Yet despite being able to clearly remember, Melkor was sure he had never before felt the strange intimacy and vulnerability that overpowered him now. He trusted his Maia, thus the sensation that overwhelmed his spirit and form did not frighten or anger him. Still he felt agitated and he reached out for the Maia, pulling him down, closer towards himself, instinctively seeking comfort.

Mairon paused then, feeling the anxiety that flickered underneath the flame of Melkor's eager pride. He let Vala pull him down and he gave Melkor himself to hold onto, as he kissed his own name off the fiery Ainu's lips and for a while he waited for him to catch his breath and calm his restless spirit. Soon however, he moved again and as he buried himself deeper in the corporeal form of the Vala, close to his ear Melkor heard Mairon's voice, rich with passion and beyond any doubt possessive. "At last, I have thee, master. Oh, how long I have craved this." To those words the Maia began to move inside him. And yet at the same time Melkor felt a different kind of touch, a brush of his Maia's spirit on his own immortal soul, spiritual closeness which because of the confines of the mortal flesh he had been trapped in in the past, he could also never before fully experience.

In that ethereal touch, in this caress of immaterial being, there was everything that Melkor needed to know, and even as Mairon claimed him as his and even allowed himself to insolently use his old title, in the spirit of the other Ainu the Vala felt only soothing devotion and absolute admiration.

Moan after moan escaped Melkor's lips as his body responded to Mairon's thrusts. The Vala's fingers dug into the skin on Mairon's back, as bliss made him tense, and he clawed on the Maia with equal possessiveness. But it was not only the pleasures of the flesh that made Melkor act this way. When Mairon's spirit touched his, the feelings that the Maia kept secret for millennia overwhelmed Melkor more than any physical contact ever could.

Never before had he basked in a light as beautiful and warm, never had he chanced on a thing as beautiful. All of a sudden, the Silmarils seemed but tarnished pebbles to the fiery Vala. How could he have ever craved for those pitiful stones, when he could have had this? Obsessed and possessive Melkor held tightly onto the other Ainu, for Mairon's love for him now was the greatest treasure he had ever known. "My Mairon, mine," Melkor uttered, clawing on the Maia, as he turned to kiss him. "Mine and mine alone, forever."

The rain lashed the rocks outside and the wind came in through the window, enveloping them in a gust of humid air that cooled their rocking bodies, where sweat already pearled. But no wind and no downpour could extinguish the fire that burnt in Mairon's eyes now. To the sound of howling wind, and the sting of Melkor's nails digging into his skin, the Maia growled into the searing kiss, and then broke it, tossing his head, his hair falling out of the ponytail and spilling onto his back. "Thine forever. And thou mine."

"Yes," Melkor hissed, shuddering, as bliss ran through his body, making it tingle and arch. He could not hold back for much longer, and moments later he threw his head back gasping loudly, as passion consumed him. As he lay under Mairon, catching his breath and still embracing the Maia, Melkor struggled not to shed his mortal form, before Mairon has reached his own edge.

The love of Mairon was calling out to him and Melkor wanted it, he wanted to melt in it, consume it, claim it, just like the Maia has just claimed his body. And the moment the other Ainu reached his own peak and buried his face in Melkor's fiery hair, the Vala let himself go and he pulled half-conscious Mairon after himself, out of their corporeal forms and into their spiritual essence. Then the spirit of Melkor, much mightier than that of the Maia who just dared to stake claim on him, embraced and surrounded the small soul of Mairon, clinging onto the lesser spirit, whose core was that of hidden fire but whole essence was that of earth and of treasures yet uncovered that patiently waited and shimmered inside it.

"Mine," Melkor repeated, and as the voice rippled across his being, Mairon recognized in it the same possessiveness with which his former master used to cling to his iron crown, that held the Silmarils. "Mine forever! I shall not let another have thee or steal thy adoration from me. And I shall be thine if in exchange thou shalt give thyself and thy love to me," so Melkor spoke and although he was frightening in his spiritual form, for he was vast and powerful, Mairon felt that Melkor's hold on his spirit was delicate and mindful. Already was Melkor learning the subtle difference between greedy selfish obsession, that he had felt for the Silmarils, and the desire to claim that which was readily given to him, though he himself remained oblivious to that fact.

"Thou long hast both of those already", Mairon wished to say, yet he could not, for too overwhelming was the feeling of the Vala's presence and power all around him, especially in this very moment – for when their mortal shapes disintegrated and they rose into the air together - when Melkor's mighty spirit embraced him, Mairon at last let go of all his defences. Licked by burning flames and biting cold of Melkor's very essence that somehow brought all kinds of discord and opposites together into one perfect being, he brought down all of the walls that he had raised in his mind over the ages. Those walls were there to protect him from his love for Melkor, protect him from losing hope.

For ages, when he spent alone and struggling against whole world, they helped him keep going, they did not let him surrender. Even now after the Second Music he still kept them, in case it all was but a cruel joke, in case it was unreal, in case it all would be taken away from him.

But it was real, it could be nothing else but that. For something as astounding, unspeakable and rich as this feeling, Mairon would not even know how to imagine. And with that realization, came final clarity. He needed the defences and battlements in his mind no longer.

And thus once himself the lord of an empire, a commander of armies, deceiver of kings and bringer of death and destruction, the Maia now let himself relinquish all control and he gave in to the flames that held him, allowing them to purify him, letting them burn away all the things that had ever held him down, letting his master of old make him whole once more.

In Melkor's embrace, washed from all stain and weariness he was like a precious jewel indeed, jewel from the very depths of the old Arda. Now however his cut was far more complex that it had once been, it was polished and chiseled with experience of many lifetimes. And he was no longer just a trinket in the Vala's possession - he was a gemstone of many facets and in all of them Melkor's own light was now refracted, filtering all through the Maia's being and becoming brighter, more splendid and wondrous, casting a spectrum of possibilities on the walls of the room that was now filled with Melkor's cosmic power.

For the first time since the day of his creation, Mairon felt complete.

* * *

Once more clad in a body of flesh, Melkor lay beside his precious Maia, fingers curling on Mairon's chest in a small possessive gesture. Truly he had been a fool to chase after some lifeless gems of elven make, when he could have had a treasure like this, given to him of free will long ago, Melkor thought. And even as those thoughts travelled through his mind now, he shifted against Mairon, momentarily uneasy, as he wondered if someone could perhaps try to steal the Maia from him like the Silmarils had been.

And then he knew that nay, Mairon would be his. Through the ages of war and ages of peace, millennia of parting, the Maia had remained his and his alone. Thus he would stay. Melkor smiled at the thought and looked up into Mairon's golden eyes with vertical pupils.

The eyes of molten gold and slowly coiling flames looked back at him and Mairon's chest heaved in a pleased sigh as his lips crooked a little, reflecting Melkor's gladness. If only Mairon had known of the Vala's passing worry regarding him being possibly stolen, he would have laughed, for there was no other Maia on Arda and beyond its confines, not even Olórin, that was so persistent and so hard to get rid of.

Together they once again looked out through the distant window into the world fogged by wind and cutting rain. Soon the rain would be over and their work would resume. But for now it was still pouring and so Melkor shifted closer, running his hand over Mairon's chest and down his front, giving his lover a sly, newly hungry leer.

* * *

---

Chapter End Notes

A/N Now, if some of you read up to here and never said a word to us, this is the time when you come out and tell us about your feels, are we clear, lurkers? XD

We accept reviews/comments/anything in english, russian, polish, german and french by the way so do not hesitate to write in a different languae ;D And if anyone is scared of presenting their feelings on fanfictionnet then we made an email just for you guys: zluandluff (you know what symbol goes here)gmail . com :3

So, what do you think? Did the grand finale inspire any feels ;D? Did it surprise you? Or was everything exactly like you expected? (suuuure XD) We sincerely apologize for breaking your guys hearts with the previous 4 chapters, there was no other way!

You'll probably be happy to know that this is not really the end yet. From now on every few weeks we will be updating "Loyalty" with bonus chapters, on the further doings of two certain someones (and not only) in all kind of situations they might get into. Those will be continuing the story in a lighter way, and will be sometimes funny and sometimes pleasing in different ways. You do not have to read them, they are bonus content :3 (check for updates on weekends)

Also, as always, there will be more illustrations coming, so keep an eye on our tumblr: angbandstyle . tumblr . com

Now, in case you are wondering why we gave the story such a happy ending, while in canon Sauron and Melkor end tragically and we were sticking so much to canon before:

Part of the inspiration for this ending comes from the idea that Eru is indeed a benevolent and infallible god figure, as Tolkien had intended him to be. And if Eru is indeed benevolent, then why would he make Melkor so prone to becoming the absolute evil? Not only would creating an ultimate and irredeemable evil be rather malevolent towards its victims, but also quite cruel to the evil being itself. Thus, assuming that Eru knew what he was doing (and as a god figure we see him as infallible, all his designs, no matter how twisted, in the end lead where he meant them to lead), and made Melkor the way he wanted him, then Melkor's fall could not be final. In our interpretation, Eru made Melkor flawed, but not irredeemable, so that Melkor could fall, and fall lower than any lesser being could. He let Melkor stray from the light only to find a way back to it and give hope to the whole world of free-willed individuals, so that all that turn to evil, can also turn back.

All in all, we think we still fit into the canon. We feel that this could very much be the actual design of Eru, the way Tolkien portrayed him and understood him. And since not even the Valar knew what would come after Dagor Dagorath, we truly do not feel guilty of any AU here, just filling in the blanks, as always XD.

And now with that said, we want to give you one more song that since the very beginning was our theme for this story: picosong.com/3M22/

And the lyrics are here (we imagine some parts are "sung" by Sauron, some by Melkor, it's up to you to decide)

"Tom Jones - Never"

From the first time that I heard you I knew
I'd be hooked on you forever like the blues
People told me you would hurt me, so untrue!
'Cause after all these years, you're the one thing that's still here
'Cause of you there's no alone, you've been with me through it all

Never, never, never, never gonna give you up
Running through my blood
Never, never, never, never leaving you behind
Always on my mind

Can't get enough of your highs and your lows
You take me places where nobody goes
And if you went away, I would never be the same

Oh, your sweetness is like sugar on my lips
When you're not around it's your melody that I miss
Like an old friend you come back to me so quick
And after all this time I've still got you in my life
You and me we're going strong, you and me we still belong

Never, never, never, never gonna give you up
Running through my blood
Never, never, never, never leaving you behind
Always on my mind

Can't get enough of your highs and your lows
You take me places where nobody goes
And if you went away, I would never be the same
(Never, never, never, never)

And now, let us just say that we really, truly love every each and single one of you, dear readers! ;u; You have been a constant inspiration and without your feedback this story would never even see chapter 3, not to mention coming this far!

Thus check back here in some two weeks, for those who'll want to go on reading, we'll have some fun stuff prepared X3

And wow, we've got two epic fanarts for this chapter X3 

"Arda Healed" by cenobitesquid.deviantart.com:

And this lovely scene in the Void by waywarddesertknight on tumblr <3

Thank you guys, you're truly amazing! X3