The Lords that Fell by Taylor17387

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Appendix 3: The Three Gods in the Garden of Poppies

And finally, here's the third and last appendix. Remember how this whole story began, back in the halls of Mandos? Well, this is Melkor's revenge...

Warnings: following the model of the first appendix, this chapter is rather a PWP made for the sake of the unlikely pairings that Internet has forgotten. It includes explicit sex, non-con, incest, voyeurism, sex with monsters, threesomes and many wtf moments...yeah.

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Or maybe it wasn't a dream. Funny it was anyway.

-Sam (The Lord of the Rings: "The Great River")

When Melkor closed his eyes, he didn't find himself in Angband anymore.
Suddenly, the black rock walls had been replaced by twisted trunks of trees, the chains with hooks and traces of blood by languid stems from which hanged fragrant flowers, and the hordes of Orcs, by luminous insects and shy creatures that hid in the shadows. That forest was plunged into an eternal twilight, and in the air floated the dense and sweet aroma of the dreams of poppies. Melkor had the impression of having been there before, of having been there many times, perhaps since forever. But never so consciously, never in a way so real. This time he could perceive every detail, every leaf, every smell, every whisper, as if he really had been brought there.
Although of course, that was impossible. The gardens of Lórien were forbidden to him since his rebellion, like the rest of Aman. Thus, the only possible explanation was that he was dreaming.
Shrugging, Melkor began to stroll through the forest: since he was trapped in that stupid dream, what else could he do? At first he entertained himself trampling each fluorescent mushroom and tearing each flower that he found in his path, amused by the unnecessary destruction. But thereafter he began to get bored of this pastime; after all, mushrooms or flowers couldn't utter cries of suffering nor beg for mercy.
Then he heard two voices, vaguely familiar, conversing in a glade and covered by the thick undergrowth around them. Alarmed all of a sudden, Melkor approached to spy from behind a tree. As soon as he saw the mysterious intruders, his mouth twisted into a grimace. There was the obnoxious Mandos, and his equally obnoxious brother Lórien, talking in low voices about those kind of stupidities with which the Valar got busy these days:

-The light of this glade is similar to that of my halls. –commented Mandos impassively, though his gaze was fixed in that of his brother, rather than in his surroundings.- But there the shadows are of a different kind, there the shadows creep and groan with despair.

Lórien nodded, absorbed.

-Yes, it's the twilight of the two Trees. I captured it among the branches of my forest in the moment in which the mingling of lights was more beautiful: 457 years, 210 days, 5 hours, 31 minutes and 40 seconds after their creation.

-Wasn't it always equally beautiful?

-No, at that moment it was more than ever. I perceive these things, you do not. -from where he was hiding, Melkor noticed a strange flashing in the grey eyes of Lórien.

Mandos then placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, and taking the hem of his robe, he slid it down his body to his ankles, exposing the white nakedness of the other Vala. And while he stroked his nipple, he continued with that eccentric conversation, that for the Fëanturi must have seemed the most normal thing in the world.

-I, on the other side, have perceived our own twilight.

-That, brother, is a weight that I don't want to carry.

Mandos leaned down and began to lick the nipple, a little hard already, before the attentive though somewhat indifferent look of Lórien.
Melkor opened and closed his eyes several times to make sure he wasn't seeing a mirage. In the name of Arda, what was going on there!? Now he understood that behind those anodyne words, another conversation quite different had been taking place between the two Valar. A conversation in their minds, probably full of lewd obscenities. But he didn't dare to interfere in it; no, if he did they could discover him.
Mandos' tongue was still busy with the nipple, but his right hand had moved down Lórien's leg, and now caressed with meticulous precision his inner thigh. Melkor had known in his flesh that cold, heartless precision, and seeing now his former jailer repeating his techniques in another body, filled him with anger and pain because of the memory... but also filled him with other feelings.
And Lórien was beautiful, oh, yes, definitely! In his opinion, the most beautiful of the male Valar. And so unlike his brother! Graceful, delicate, silver-haired, silver as the hair between his legs. The thin blue veins ran under the alabaster skin of his belly, and now began to swell along a delicious member.
Melkor licked his lips, entranced by the perverse spectacle. It was assumed that the Valar were pure, elevated above carnal passions. Moreover above passions that would have been labeled by many as incestuous. Such satisfaction, finding corruption right there in the heart of Aman! And hadn't been he who had awakened the impurity in Mandos? Wasn't he entitled to enjoy that scene? At the end of the day, it was just a dream. One of "those" dreams.
Suddenly, the front of his robe seemed tighter and narrower.

Lórien had closed his eyes, and smiled with a blissful joy. His fingers dug into the hair of his brother, who kissed his stomach, lower and lower, while his hand followed its path along his thigh, higher and higher.
The left hand of Melkor, meanwhile, had slipped under his robe with self determination, and now moved up and down, more and more furiously.

"What a disgusting hypocrisy! Look at those swines submitted to the filthiest lust. If I did anything like that everyone would say I'm corrupt, but since it's the Valar doing it must be approved? I wish Manwë could see this! Maybe then they would lock up Mandos in the halls that are named after him for being so perverted. Oh, look at him! His lips have reached the pubis of his brother. He is kissing him there! And the member of the other is so hard ... Ah, it's almost touching his lips! How disgusting, how disgusting is all of this! " -said Melkor to himself, without realizing that his breathing was speeding up dangerously, and sweat ran down his forehead, and the first wet drops were dripping down his hand.- "I wonder if he will dare to put it in his mouth... And where is his hand? Oh, it's not possible, he has it between his buttocks and is caressing his opening! Lórien licks his lips, the degenerate. Mmmm! I wonder if he has ever been penetrated or not. No, no, certainly not. He must have the hole so tight, so hot, so eager... Oh, oh, oh, there he goes, he's running his tongue over the tip of his... "

It was all very sudden and unexpected. A violent pleasure shook Melkor's body, his legs buckled, forcing him to lean on the tree behind which he was hiding, and an "Oh!" of surprise escaped his lips as a warm fluid poured down his arm and stomach.
Mandos and Lórien, paralyzed, had left the sizzling thing between their hands, and now watched Melkor in the most undignified position, with his own thing still dripping between his hand.
The rebellious Vala felt how blood drained from his lower parts and rushed to his cheeks. He had never felt so ridiculous and ashamed.
Mandos stood up and smoothed his robe solemnly:

-You have the most curious way to announce your arrival, Melkor.

-Welcome. –mediated Lórien, with a charming smile.- You are our guest, so we were waiting for you.

Melkor looked alternatively atone and the other, not knowing well what to say. In fact, given the circumstances, whatever he said would sound stupid.

-Shut up! -he groaned at last, and tried to regain some of his lost dignity covering his privates again and wiping his hand on the bark of the tree.
He almost felt how the plant cringed upon touching the fluid, all its holiness of the Undying Lands thus profaned.

-Come with us, Melkor, join our game. -offered Lórien.- We both want to make love to you.

Melkor was stunned. For a moment he wondered about the perfidious machinations that plotted those two. Though on the other hand, this was his dream right? Why wouldn't they want to make love to him?
He took a tentative step toward the glade where the two Valar awaited him: the one somber, cruelly cold and dressed in black, the other white, naked and with a certain air of perverse effeminacy.
Melkor wasn't sure which of the two was more dangerous.
Before he could repent of what he was doing, his feet had taken him directly into the clutches of his enemies. The Fëanturi smiled upon noticing his limp, Mandos with irony and Lórien with compassion.

-You have been hurt, Melkor. Poor, poor child of Eru, disowned by his brothers, odious to the eyes of the world! -whispered the Lord of Dreams, standing behind him and stroking his cheek with incredible sweetness.

Melkor shuddered; never a caress had seemed to him so comforting, so redemptive.

-I suspect ye are going to betray me. Ye are the dogs of the Valar. The only thing ye want is to deceive me, abuse me and take advantage of my body, and then deliver me to my enemies. -he sighed, closing his eyes and surrendering, much to his chagrin, to the irresistible caresses.

He had left his neck exposed, and Mandos kissed his Adam's apple.

-I told you once that Death has no enemies, have you forgotten? –he whispered, running his finger along his collarbone.

-You never told me that.

- I will, eventually. When one has such precise knowledge as mine about the bends in the flow of history, it's not always easy to distinguish past and future.

Then, without warning, Mandos opened the clasp that held Melkor's robe over his shoulder, and his clothes fell to the ground with a thud. Melkor was startled upon feeling the cold air hitting against his skin. No one had seen him naked since the fight with Fingolfin had disfigured his body. He didn't even know how he would show himself to Sauron when he returned from Tol-in-Gaurhoth, because someday he would have to return. And even for him it was very painful to see the ugly scars that crossed his nakedness. Therefore, his first reaction was covering himself with his hands, full of shame.
Mandos let out a biting laugh and pushed away his arms to behold him.

-How different is this from the virgin body I made mine in the old days of the Trees! I see I wasn't the only one who has penetrated your flesh, Melkor. So have done swords as well.

Melkor didn't know how to defend himself; he was confused, intimidated and at disadvantage, numbed by the scents that clung in the air, vaguely aroused.
Lórien pressed against his back, enclosing him in an embrace and brushing him with his warm skin and the soft hair of his crotch.

-You have 10 wounds on your body and 5,645 wounds in your soul. -he murmured, and followed the scar of his shoulder among kisses.

His brother, meanwhile, gently nibbled his throat and pinched his nipples, leaving a trail of exquisitely painful fire in every inch of skin he touched. Melkor bit his lip to stifle a moan.
It was wrong, prostituting himself to the Valar in such a way was wrong, and enjoying it was even worse. But in any case, it was a dream, right?, so actually he didn't need to feel guilty, isn't it? Yes, it was just a dream.

-It is and it is not. -said Lórien then, who had read his thoughts.- It depends on the perspective from which you look at it.

-That makes no sense!

-It makes for me.

Melkor felt confused. He was totally exposed to the prying eyes of the Fëanturi, not only in body, but apparently, also in soul, that they were able to read like an open book. And this worried him.
Lórien's member entered surreptitiously between his legs, stroking his balls and his opening as a cruel temptation. Melkor could not hold back the moan in his throat. Mandos was running his tongue along the scar on his chest, moving close to his nipple without touching it, and descending through the other wound in his hip with excruciating slowness. Impatient, he threw his hips forward with the hope that his cock, hard again, brushed something more than air. And finally he was rewarded when the burning tongue reached his crotch, licking both Lórien's member as well as everything else in its path.

-Mmmm! Ye are sick, ye two, did ye know? -sighed the rebellious Vala through clenched teeth.

-And you are very much in need, Melkor. –scoffed Mandos, sending the vibrations of his words through the tortured member.- Have you seen, brother, how his body responds differently than that of the other Valar? How his flesh is real flesh? How his desire is real desire, burning, desperate, brutally honest?

Lórien ran his nose through his hair:

-Yes, brother, he smells different.

-Tell me, Melkor, how long has it been since somebody satisfied you, if someone has done it after me? -continued the Judge of the Valar, and dug his nails in the inner part of his thigh, as always measuring with the accuracy of a balance the adequate amounts of pleasure and pain.

Melkor closed his eyes, hurt. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair that his enemy knew so well each nerve and each sensitive corner of his body. But hadn't been he who had first imprinted those sensations in his flesh, hadn't he molded him to his liking, rousing the areas that interested him?

-You're wrong, Mandos, if you believe that I don't have at my disposal countless servants in Angband, that please me every day as many times as I want.

-Who, the Orcs?

-Better Orcs than you!

-We'll see…

And before Melkor could react, the two brothers lay him face up on the grass. Lórien pinned his arms to the floor, although nonetheless he kept kissing his forearms to calm him, and Mandos spread his legs abruptly and with obvious intentions.
Melkor groaned in pain as the damaged muscles of his leg were thus forced. This had gone too far, and for nothing in the world he would allow that hateful Vala to profane him again. He may be trapped in that body, but still he remained the greatest of all the Ainur, the one who imposed his Music above all the others, yes, above Eru's theme even! It was time to scorch those two insolent amidst a large fireball, and reduce to ashes their physical forms.
Unfortunately, his powers were bound by some mysterious force emanating from the forest itself, and he found himself powerless against the Fëanturi. The dream had become a nightmare, and much to his chagrin he realized that there was nothing he could do now to avoid what was coming.

Melkor moaned in pain when Mandos' member broke through him mercilessly, and a tear fell down his cheek. Why had he to relive that, his darkest hour, the worst of the5,645 wounds of his soul?
The Vala pushed his legs to the chest to reach his ear, and a voice sharp as a knife whispered:

-You lied, Melkor. You've been very lonely. I can feel it in the pain of your entrails.

Melkor threw his head back, squirming desperate and unable to flee:

-All right, all right, it's true, you win! No one has touched me in a long time! I haven't seen my lieutenant in eight years: a sigh for the spirit of an Ainu, but an eternity for a body of flesh and bone. Are you happy now!? -he sobbed, unable to hold back the tears any longer.

Lórien frowned, worried:

-Brother, you're hurting him. Why are you so evil? We have nothing against him. We forgave him 505 years, 332 days, 3 hours and 36 minutes ago.

-I'm not evil. I do what I should, and my duty is beyond good and evil. -replied Mandos coldly and without slowing the pace of his thrusts, ignoring the cries of his victim.

In that moment, the twilight darkened suddenly, a shudder ran through the branches of the trees, and the perfume of the air turned denser, almost suffocating.
When Lórien spoke, his voice was terrible and different:

-¡Námo Mandos, remember to whom belong these domains! I order you to stop.

Furrowing his brow in annoyance, Mandos stopped dead and left the body of Melkor, with another whimper from him.
The shattered Vala rolled onto his side, closed his legs and covered his face still sobbing. Twinges of pain seared him inside and outside. Lórien stroked his hair tenderly and placed his head on his lap; at some time the crown of Silmarils had fallen without him even noticing.
Thanks to the strange virtue of Lórien's caresses, the rebellious Vala soon regained his calmness and fell into a pleasant numbness of the senses.

-Your pain is a chrysalis that someday will tear. Then the moth will fly into the flame, but won't be consumed by it. -whispered the Lord of Dreams. His voice entered him as a sweet vapour of opium smell.

-And what does that mean? –murmured Melkor, closing his eyes.

-He means that all suffering is temporary, because the end will come to our bodies of flesh sooner or later. -explained the impassive voice of Mandos.

Melkor smiled bitterly, and at the same time, with the serenity that had gripped him.

-I think you're crazy, Lórien... The moment in which the light of the two Trees was more beautiful, the number of my wounds, the day ye forgave me... Why do you keep track of such strange things?

-They're important to me.

-Nothing that you say has the slightest sense. Also, I realize one thing: according to your calculations, the day ye forgave me was the one in which I destroyed the two Trees and stole the Silmarils. Why then, precisely when I did you the greatest evil?

-Because it was time.

-Does this mean that the Valar have forgiven me and I can return to Aman when I please and govern them as I always should have done?

-No. Only we have forgiven you, not the rest.

-Mph! I always thought that it would be my stupid brother Manwë who would forgive me first...

-Manwë can't forgive you. Because he loves you.

Melkor grumbled through clenched teeth.
The emptiness that Mandos had left inside him now seemed annoying, as if his opening loudly pleaded to be filled again, with an obscene tingling.
At that moment he remembered that Lórien was not only the Lord of Dreams, but also of Desire. It wouldn't be strange that his caresses were distilling that ardor through his veins.
Almost without realizing it, his legs parted like an invitation for a new assault. Lórien's tongue slid across the lobe of his ear, and with a whisper that moistened the tip of his cock, he said:

-Are you better now, Melkor? Will you let my brother possess you?

Gulping, Melkor nodded.

-Yes, but only if he shows me the respect due to my power, and strokes my sensitive spot with each thrust. If he doesn't do this, I refuse.

The brothers exchanged perfidious smiles, and Lórien rose to collect one of the red poppies that grew in the glade. From the calyx of the flower he extracted an oil of voluptuous aroma, which he generously smeared over Mandos' member and the opening of Melkor. The latter let out a sigh; the feeling was exquisite and attenuated all pain and discomfort.
This time willingly, and no longer caring if what he did was shameful or not, the rebellious Vala offered himself, and felt the member separating his flesh, sinking into him in all its length, and pulling out a gasp of pleasure upon touching that delectable spot.
Lórien stood watching the mysterious ritual that unfolded before his eyes. A ritual almost as old as the world, in which moans, sweat, tendons and muscles intermingled in a beautiful dance.
And although his brother didn't seem quite committed, as if the act was alien to his spiritual nature, the body of Melkor writhed in a mixture of pleasure and anguish that penetrated every pore of his skin. Fascinated, the Lord of Dreams observed the sinewy stem crowned with dew, which rose in the middle of the grove between the legs of the rebellious Vala. Wasn't that the most beautiful flower that now sprouted in his garden?
Licking his lips, Lórien lay on the body of Melkor, and took his member in his mouth. A primitive and mysterious energy emanated from his former enemy, an energy that impelled him to do that. Perhaps the same energy that impelled all living beings to perpetuate their species.

Melkor let out an even louder moan and arched his back. Never before had he experienced those pleasures with two persons at once. And the feeling of being penetrated to the core, with his secret area stimulated to climax again and again, now joined to that tongue in his outer parts, was maddening.
His spirit was stirred, almost wanting to escape that abused flesh, that unbearable intensity. When he opened his eyes, he only saw before him the parts of Lórien, who had been left hanging a few inches from his face in that position. Enraptured by the waves of pleasure coursing through his nerves and by the smell of poppies, he returned the favour to Lórien. And he ran his tongue along the slit of his cock, and along the stem, and between his balls, and finally into his hole.
The Lord of Dreams moaned in surprise, and for a moment forgot about the work of his own tongue.

-Do you feel it already, brother? –whispered Mandos, and looked at Melkor from above, giving him a knowing smile. Melkor understood the insinuation perfectly, and licking his fingers, he maliciously introduced them into the virgin body of the other Vala.

-Oh! What are you doing to me? -he complained.

-Isn't it obvious? I bet you can also count the fingers that I'm pushing inside you, right?

-They're three, ah!, now they're four... I don't know... Suddenly what was important for me, it's not so much in this moment. –sighed Lórien, closing his eyes and impaling himself even more into those fingers that desecrated him.

For a while he struggled to be rubbed in the areas of his cavity that gave him more pleasure. Until finally, possessed of an animal fury quite unbecoming of him, he separated, turned around, and fit himself into the swollen member of Melkor, both moaning in unison.
The twilight that filtered through the trees brought out silver gleams from his hair and pubis as his delicate figure rose and fell along the member; silver interspersed with the black hair of Melkor, the black robe of Mandos, who now enveloped him in a possessive embrace.

-Master of Desire, by Desire mastered. Tell me, what do you feel now? –said the Judge, slightly biting his neck and stroking his member, while he kept brushing the insides of Melkor with exquisite precision.

-I hear a note isolated in the Music ... I see a point of light in the midst of Creation. The eye of Eru looks at me, and for once I understand him entirely. –sighed Lórien, his voice breaking in a whimper.

Melkor didn't believe he could endure much more. Mandos' thrusts had already caused him several internal climax that had left his legs shaking. And now the moist and warm canal of Lórien, wrapping and squeezing him among muscle spasms, threatened to bring him to the final burst.
Then Mandos grabbed his brother by the neck, turned his head to look at him in the eyes, and with one last masterful touch of his hand, he ordered:

-Open up for me, brother. Show me everything. Now! -and kissing him harshly, he left the body of Melkor without warning, and in turn impaled the other Vala.

Lórien cried upon being penetrated so brutally by both of them at the same time. And finally he surrendered his spirit among convulsions, while a white rain twinkled for a moment in the air and then spilled over into the stomach of Melkor. The latter clawed at the ground. Whether it was for the double touch of the cavity and the new member against his, or for the savage act that unfolded before his eyes, or in response to the pleasure of the other Vala, he also spilled his seed with an anguished groan.
For a moment only faltering sobs and gasps of breath were heard in the glade, enveloped in a cloud of sweetish and pungent odors, of flowers, of fluids, of sweat.
Very slowly, Lórien separated from Melkor and lay on him, while his brother, still kissing him, absorbed the last throes and contractions of his body.
Finally released, the Lord of Dreams stayed near the rebellious Vala, and put his arms languidly around his waist. Melkor allowed himself to be embraced without saying a word; he was too exhausted to worry about that.
Mandos instead stood upon them, still dressed, as cold and stony as in the moment of pronouncing a sentence. Contemplating the two Valar, naked and entwined, he smiled to himself.

-Well, I think my experiment was a success.

Lórien blinked a few times, shaking off the stupor.

-Experiment? You just said you were going to show me something new and curious.

-Oh brother! I must not reveal all my thoughts to anyone. Not even to you. But since you ask me, I will confess this. What I was looking for with this experiment was a very particular knowledge. A knowledge that as lord of the dead escaped me. What is that impulse that animates living beings? That impulse of the flesh that leads them to breed in an endless cycle of new lives? Why that striving to perpetuate bodies that must perish, to send me their naked souls? Without that impulse, my halls would be empty since long time ago. It is the origin of life, but also of death, which is my domain. The beings that don't need to unite carnally live forever in the perfect copies of themselves. Only those who feel desire can die. Irmo, you are the Lord of Desire and my brother, don't you see now what brings us together? Thus I longed to know, to know what is that unrestrained passion that leads so many to kill and so many to die. This passion has haunted me since I observed it with my own eyes in the flesh of Melkor, naked and helpless in my prison. That's why I needed him, because he already knew. And I needed you, brother, to channel it through him and show me it in the midst of ecstasy, without mental barriers, because as my brother our minds are open to each other in a way that never will be that of our old enemy.

Lórien raised an eyebrow suspiciously, but his calm face didn't reveal his emotions.

-And why, dear brother, didn't you decide to experience such bliss in your own body, which clearly remained undisturbed during the act? Why did you need to feel it through me?

Mandos let out a laugh of steel.
-I cannot risk being trapped in a carnal envelope. I am the lord of spirits! And this kind of acts are the ones that most bind an Ainu with his physical form.

-But I can run the risk of being trapped?

-You're the younger brother and your powers and functions are less important than mine. –sentenced the Judge, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Lórien squinted, but just smiled and remained silent.
Melkor was fiddling with his fingers through the silver curls of his pubis, fascinated by its sheen and the softness of his skin.

-Your brother is a manipulative swine! –he groaned.- You should leave him and come with me to Angband. I would grant you the honour of staying tied to my bed so I could enjoy you occasionally. And when my lieutenant returned, both of us would enjoy you at the same time.

-It sounds tempting, but I must stay, thank you.

-I wish they could stick two in my hole! But I have too many aches and injuries. I wish I could escape this miserable shape! Then I could indeed teach a good lesson to your arrogant brother.

-Oh, but you can do it! –laughed Lórien, taking a yellow rose and drawing it close to inhale its aroma.

Both Melkor and Mandos looked stunned at him.

-What do you mean? -said the evil Vala, with sudden interest.

-You know it already, Melkor: this is your dream, and in it you are free of bounds to do whatever you want. No prison of flesh can restrain the imagination of a dreaming mind. You only need to convince you of that. Until now you have not. Try it.

Lórien stared at him tempting, dangerously, and a wicked smile began to take shape on the lips of Melkor. Mandos' proud expression became one of utter disbelief.

-Irmo, what are you doing!? Now you side with him?

-I don't understand anything about pacts or allegiances, brother. My nature is irrational. –said Lórien, shrugging.

Meanwhile, oblivious of the discussion of the Fëanturi, Melkor began to concentrate on the mental image that he wanted to express in his body. And he felt how the bonds were broken and the flesh yielded to his wishes, as it had been in earlier times. His figure expanded, grew monstrously, and several limbs broke through his ribs and elongated into respective arms ended in claws. Bones and ligaments disintegrated and reassembled in new nightmarish shapes, and a resounding laughter erupted from the interior of some unknown organs.
Mandos took a couple of steps back, pale and trembling. Melkor smelled his fear.

-You won't dare... I... I am Judge, Jury and Executioner. I judge and I am not judged! I punish and I am not punished! –stammered the Vala, in a last attempt to feign an authority that he had lost.- I am Death! I possess them all, but no one can possess me.

Melkor's mouth showed a double row of sharp teeth upon bursting out laughing, and his tongue extended towards Mandos, circling his neck with lubricity.

-Not so arrogant, little Vala. You're not Death; you're just its vile jailer. -he scoffed, and grabbing him by the arms, he threw him down abruptly, while his other two limbs bound his legs and separated them.

Panicked, Mandos made an attempt to leave his physical form, but something was wrong.

-Not in my dream, dear, not in my dream ... - warned the monster, licking his mouth. And one of his claws slid down the collar of his robe.- Do you want to know the secrets of pleasure? You'd better know them in your own flesh then. Though I'm afraid it will be anything but edifying for you. I'll take care of that myself. Knowledge is a very dangerous thing, Mandos: profitable for a few and the downfall for most.

The tearing of fabric was clearly heard behind the pleas and cries of the prisoner, white marble emerging under black cloth.

-Irmo, aren't you going to do anything!?Will you let your brother being thus dishonoured!?

But Lórien was toying with his rose.

-Once I saw a spider catching a butterfly just born from its cocoon and devouring it alive. The other butterflies were also being born, and flew indifferently to the flowers. Nature! It's so cruel ... -he murmured, as self-absorbed.

It was clear that Mandos wouldn't get help from that quarter. He looked down and found himself naked and vulnerable, crucified between the four clutches of Melkor. The spittle of the monster dripped down his neck whenever he licked his lips.

-Now you will pay for what you did to me, Mandos. And I will also teach you other thing that you haven't yet known: absolute humiliation.

The claws that held his legs parted further, and Mandos was left obscenely exposed. A viscous and indefinable appendage brushed his private parts and pushed inside his orifice to spread it.
Mandos gasped, half way between moaning and sobbing. For the first time in the history of Eä, he wasn't the one in control, he didn't even have a slight knowledge of what was going to happen. He had been left in darkness, and what was worse and even more shameful, coupled with this loss of control he felt between his legs a discharge of that which they called "pleasure".
Laughter sent a vibration through the mass that towered over him.

-But how is it, are you getting aroused!? To that point reaches your sadism? Mmm ... Well, this also arouses me...

Mandos almost lost consciousness upon seeing the size of the member which now emerged from a cavity in the crotch of Melkor. And when the wet tip stroked his opening, he had to close his eyes and bite his tongue to avoid screaming.
During all that time, Lórien entertained himself inhaling the fumes of opium, and the cries and moans of his brother, and the lewd panting of Melkor, only reached to him floating like a dream.

When it was over, Melkor recovered his usual form and straightened his robe with dignity. Mandos, also dressed again, trembled from top to bottom, pale with anger and shame. He threw a murderous look at his brother, and the latter smiled charmingly.

-Well, my role here is finished. -snapped Melkor.- The next time ye want to organize another decadent orgy of these, do not count on me! -and turning around, he walked off the glade.

In that moment, the Vala opened his eyes and found himself back in his bed, among the safe walls of Angband. His initial shock gave way gradually to calm, as he returned to reality.
Then he felt something wet under the covers. Upon discovering the white, sticky stain, he twisted his mouth disgruntled. It was a natural reaction after a dream of that kind, no matter how stupid it was.
The truth was that he still felt aroused. He looked wistfully toward the left side of his bed, his huge and desolate bed, where of course the absence of Sauron remained palpable. He felt a stab in his chest, followed by another stab at the inside of his leg. The exhilarating sense of power he had experienced in the dream, free from all limitations, still reverberated in his mind. And being caressed and penetrated again was a nice change from his lonely reality.
Melkor frowned. Cursed Fëanturi, cursed disgusting dream! He had barely begun the day and he was already in a gloomy mood.

-Gothmog! -he roared from the bed. Minutes later, the Balrog peered cautiously into the room, and was received with some sheets thrown to his face.- Clean this up!

It didn't take long for the unfortunate captain to realize what was specifically what he had to clean. Outraged by such disdain toward his position and rank in the fortress, he sought the human servant of Sauron and lumbered him with the thankless task, going away in a cloud of smoke and fury.
The Shadow of Sauron nearly fainted with disgust, and careful not to touch with his hand or his precious clothes the fluid stain, he gave the sheets to the first orc that passed him by. And the creature felt very honoured to clean the seed of his master and creator.

---

At the other side of the Great Sea, in the gardens of Lórien near the lake Lórellin, Estë the gentle served another cup of tea to her dear friend Vairë. The cheerful spirit and energetic manners of Estë contrasted sharply with the solemn and reserved figure of her friend.
In addition, Estë loved to talk. Any event, any trivial anecdote was a good excuse for gossiping and gossiping without end. And meanwhile Vairë remained there quietly and without interrupting, listening (or at least pretending she was listening) and limiting herself to occasional nods.
Maybe that was the reason why Estë was so fond of meeting Vairë.

-What a wonderful idea had our husbands to meet the four of us here, don't you think, Vairë, dear!? I wish we saw each other more often... Ah, but try the pie, it was made by one of my Maiar! It's very good, maybe a little too sweet... Well, I know that ye don't like to eat very much. I like it indeed, it's a great invention. -chattered the Valië, sticking in her mouth another piece of cake.- Although I wonder what are doing our husbands that takes them so long. It's been quite a while already since they left to stroll into the woods. So unpunctual! And tea is going to be cold. Knowing Irmo, I can imagine what happened. Surely he's engaged in searching every one of the flowers that grow here to show them to your husband, and incidentally explain to him each property, each virtue of the plants! Do you get the picture, Vairë? My husband collecting flowers and yours picking mushrooms? I can almost see them!

Estë pushed aside a lock of hair from her face with a slap. The heat from the tea, together with the abundant food, her long hair, impatience, and habit of speaking without pausing for breath, were suffocating her.
Vairë, for her part, rolled up the sleeves of her robe, black as that of her husband, and held out a bony, bloodless hand toward the cup of tea that was offered to her.

-I can see them as well. In fact, I have already the picture for my next tapestry. -the Valië moved the cup closer to her lips, and Estë could have sworn that an icy smile drew on those two thin lines.- Nonetheless, dear, I think that the scene that I will capture in my tapestry is very different from that which you have in your head... Very different.