Emotions-- A series of vignettes by MisbehavingMaiar

Generosity

 Maeglin attempts to make himself useful; an unlikely bond is forged. 

(( This one was a puzzler! Also, it turned into a mini-fic. My knowledge of Sindarin construction is exactly three hours old so I make no claims as to accuracy. ))

Maeglin had been given leave to wander anywhere his feet could take him in the fortress, provided he did not make himself a nuisance. There was no real harm he could do on his own; the deeper pits of Angband were not readily accessible except by wings or by a stride much longer than that of a elfin boy’s. 

 Nevertheless, after much searching and several near-falls, he discovered a stair that would take him down into the forges. The way was winding and perilous, made for things with gripping toes and claws, not soft-shod boots.
The heat in the belly of the fortress was incredible. He picked his way downwards, sweating, holding a carefully bound book to his chest and trying not to imagine if he slipped just how long he would fall before he found the bottom of the Iron Hells. 

Hours later it seemed he found the solid floor again, panting.
In his mind this whole venture had been much easier; he had not made allowance for the shaking ground, the constant volcanic rumble, the grinding of titan machinery, nor the grunts and screeches of creatures in the depths.
He had not realized that all steps and furnishings in a maia’s smithy would be so enormous in scale... and he had not considered how he would get back up, once he had done what he came to do. 

Throat dry and hands clenched, he shut his eyes, whispering to calm his nerves before approaching the glowing archway-- the massive stone entrance to Angband’s primary forge. 

"--Do not creep about, Maeglin, I know you’re there." 

The elf froze like a starteld deer. The voice that spoke growled like thunder from beyond the threshold. His sweat chilled on his skin. He swallowed and willed himself to move forward, to enter the dread maia's realm. 

 Thus far, Maeglin reflected, the Vala Dark Lord had favored him greatly. Morgoth... or rather, Melkor, and made many promises to him. The attention of the Dark Lord was always overwhelming, and sickly sweet. It was like drowning in honey. Though his words and claws had so far been gentle, the Vala frightened Maeglin more than anything he had ever before encountered. 
The maia lieutenant, however, had remained aloof towards him. He had been ordered to let no harm come to Melkor’s “guest”, and he obeyed his master’s word to the letter, his proud, dark face stern and terrible. Sauron was fearsome, but at least he did not purr and coo over Maeglin in a way that made his stomach turn…

That thought had been his sole comfort up until he stepped inside and saw the maia towering over his anvil with eyes like glowing coals. 

"Why do you disturb my work, boy?"

"I—" 

"OUT, if you have no meaningful business here!" 

Maeglin yelped, but even as he shrunk back he thrust forward his leather-bound book, as if it were a shield.
"I drew plans!" He stammered. "Designs I wanted to show you! F-fancies I had, contrivances I could craft in my mind but... I... I have not the skill nor the resources to build them on my own, but having seen the machines here-- the great furnaces, the molds and presses and dies… and I thought--" 

Sauron’s eyes narrowed and Maeglin nearly swallowed his tongue. He half expected to be struck or blasted with flame. 

"Show me." 

"Y-yes— " he did not know what honorific to use. How did one address hostile Ainur smiths? He settled for "Aran Curunír" —"Master Craftsman", in a panic, and immediately felt ill. His father had been called a similar title. 

Maeglin opened his drafting book with a thin white finger and turned it helpfully for the forgemaster to see. There was silence as the red eyes flicked from sketch to sketch. 
 

"This will not work."  Said the maia stonily. "The pressure will build in the belly here. The metal will expand and warp, and the hull will crumple."

"Oh." Maeglin tried to ignore the sinking disappointment in his chest.  "Yes. So I see…now." He had been an abysmal fool to come here with his half-dreamt diagrams to show to a maia smith--

"...Still. With proper venting…" 

The elf startled as the book was plucked from his hands.

Sauron paced, holding the little book open and tapping his lips with one finger. "Yes. In at least three places, here, here, and here… vents for steam. And further buttressing. This is not a poor design."
During his speech, the lieutenant shrank to more elf-like proportions.
“Do you often invent such machines fit to besiege your own home? Or is there more than one secret walled city to make war upon?” The maia smirked. 

Maeglin’s eyes grew dark. “I had thought to use them as defense, before Men came to court and stole the king’s ear.” …and his daughter’s heart… "Now I think I must use them to subdue what is corrupted." 

"And you think I will help you with this?"  Sauron’s grin grew more cruel. 

"Your master says he will deliver the city to me once it is conquered." Maeglin replied levely. "Should I doubt his word?"

The book snapped shut in Sauron’s hand.
“Doubt whatever you wish. If you are sufficiently clever and strong, you need only ever trust yourself.” He pushed the designs back into Maeglin’s hands. “You seem clever. So make clever choices.” 

A dainty furrow appeared on the boy's brow.
Clever choices.

"Help me make my war-dragons, Aran Curunír. I wish to be less... dispensable to your Master and if you help me, I will ensure that the mines of Gondolin are not collapsed or burned in the sacking. They’ll be yours— I’ll not insist on keeping them when I rule the city.”  

Sauron tipped his head to one side as a carrion bird might, when assessing whether a body were alive or dead. "…Interesting." Was all his answer.
"Come back with your plans when I am less busy— a few days, perhaps. Watch for when the mountain-smoke ceases. I will be more amendable to bargaining then." 

Maeglin felt himself smiling, and tried to conceal his excitement with a dour, respectful expression. “Yes, Forgelord!” 

Sauron laughed. “I’m curious to know how you plan to reach the surface again. You took the Goblin Road down, yes?” 

"Ah... um, Yes. Indeed." Maeglin grimaced. "It took me quite a while to reach here." 

 The maia shook his head with a snort. “Clever, bold, and impetuous... Liable to get yourself killed in short order. Come—” and Maeglin drew back with a jolt as Sauron’s body grew and shifted, cracking and bristling hideously till he was huge and furred.

 ”Put your arms round my neck and hold on, little smith. I will carry you to the top again.”  Said the great Wolf. “You are far too amusing for me let you fall.”