When days were younger by Taylor17387

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Twilight of Reason

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Twilight of Reason

Tulkas ran across the plain of Valinor. Across Vána’s meadows, Oromë’s forests, and Aulë’s steep cliffs. But the world around him seemed to have blurred into a dizzying dream.
It was possible that some Ainu called him by his name, that he pushed some unsuspecting Maia in the middle of his run, or that some elf stepped aside, frightened by the Vala’s fury. But in this moment, none of that existed for Tulkas. He was blind and deaf to everything except the road that disappeared under his feet, insensitive to everything except the wrath and horror that burned in his heart.
Melkor's agonized moans still echoed in his head. And the image of his naked, trembling body flashed before his eyes like a spectre.

At last, he was forced to stop in front of the western cliffs. Where the earth died in a sea of calm and silence. Falling to the ground on his knees, he screamed in anger, and uprooted huge pieces of land which he threw into the sea.
But the waters of Vaiya remained undisturbed.

And Tulkas cried out for his father Eru, cursing what had happened in his house, claiming an answer. He asked if what he had done was right or wrong, if that was how a guardian should behave or, on the contrary, he had failed his duties. He reproached Eru for not giving him more wisdom and good sense.
But although his cries pierced the three layers of Arda's air, and the Walls of Night, Eru stayed impassive and silent in the Timeless Halls.

Defeated, Tulkas dropped his head and arms, realizing his demands wouldn’t be heard.
At that moment, a hand as cold as death touched his shoulder.

-Do not think that Eru doesn't hearken to you. He knows everything and has all the answers. Yet He never says any more than we really need to hear. -Mandos's voice made him shudder, and Tulkas turned around slowly. The Vala was smiling at him, but his eyes reflected something else, something hard and icy.- What have you done, Tulkas? What sin have you committed to rebuke Eru so?

-Uh... I... Nothing. –he stammered.- I hadn’t even noticed that your halls were here... I’m sorry about the racket and for messing the earth.

-You should go back home. These cliffs won’t give you the peace you’re looking for. Not now. Though maybe you will return one day, once you’re wiser, once you have returned from many other things... It will be different then.

Tulkas nodded and rose from the ground, wiping the dust with certain embarrassment.
Just before he left, Mandos leaned over his ear and whispered:

-Be careful, for you’re treading on very thin ice. You might fall.

While he saw his dark figure moving toward the walls of his fortress, Tulkas had an ominous foreboding. Just how far could that Vala read in his mind?

Sitting on the floor of his room, Melkor was ruminating about what had happened between him and Tulkas a few hours earlier.
A familiar shadow darkened the light of the window.

-Thou seemst lost in thought. Did something happen?

Melkor looked up with disinterest and showed half a smile of contempt.

-Oh, it's you, Maroin! Nothing, nothing happened. Tulkas has raped me, that's all... I don't know what to think about this matter.

Mairon was so perplexed upon hearing this, that he didn't even bother to correct his name for the umpteenth time.
He blinked several times, opened his mouth in an attempt of replying, closed it again without saying anything, and cleared his throat.

-What!? -that was, at last, the only word that he could pull out from his vocal cords.

Melkor snorted in annoyance and rolled his eyes.

-Stupid Maia! Do I have to explain everything to you? I said that he raped me, that he penetrated me by force! It’s not so difficult to understand.

-But... that’s not possible! The Ainur don't... they don't do such things!... Intercourse is just for animals... for the hildren of Eru...

Melkor let out a mocking laugh.

-How naive you are! You spend so much time in your forge, focused on your silly jewels, that you haven’t even noticed what you have between your legs... -and with a sly motion of his eyes, the Vala glanced at the Maia’s tight leather pants.- ...Even though it’s not so small...

Mairon's pale cheeks flushed an unusual red, and clearing his throat, he turned his head away. He didn't want to keep talking about that repulsive subject, although Melkor seemed to have other intentions.

-What's the matter, am I bothering you? I bet that certain images are taking shape in your mind right now. You can't help it, right? Thinking about the Lord of the Valar, his legs wide open, pierced by the member of his worst enemy, and yet enjoying every perverse moment. It makes you tickle in inconfessable places, doesn't it?

Mairon felt the Vala's finger running up his leg, and abruptly moved away from the windowsill. He hadn't even noticed his sudden proximity.

-Leave me alone! I’m well above those vile desires! They haven’t the slightest usefulness for those who are immortal and cannot be destroyed. I had come to tell thee something, but now... I’m regretting it.

-Oh, really? And what could be it which you wanted to tell me? –Melkor rested his head on the bars with some coquetry.

-I wanted to tell thee, that I’ve made quite the progress in my study of those runes that restrain thee. Just that, in case thou art interested.

-And I’m pretty interested. Now you’re behaving like a good servant.

Mairon twisted his mouth with disdain and arrogance.

-I’ve already told thee that I’m not thy servant! And even if I discover their secret, I’ll never release thee. I’ll leave thee here, rotting away, knowing that I know it. And unable to do anything about it.

Melkor laughed again, this time with real delight, at the indignant visage of the Maia.

-Definitely, Morian, once you finally surrender to those "vile desires," as you call them, they will count you among the sadists. It will be delicious to have you by my side!

Tulkas stopped before the bronze doors when he returned home. It was the first time he felt a certain concern, even fear, of crossing that threshold. No fear for Melkor’s reaction, whom he could dominate with his strength, after all. But fear to face again his unconfessable act, to bump into the result of his mistake.
At last, breathing in, he pushed the heavy double-leaf doors and entered.
He was welcomed by a ceramic jug striking his head, which broke into a thousand pieces, although it barely scratched him. From the back of the room, Melkor glared at him with anger-sparkling eyes.
Under normal circumstances, Tulkas would have just laughed, but he didn't feel like laughing that day.

-Melkor, I... I’m very ashamed of... of what... Well, of what I did to you before. –stammered the Vala, still less eloquent than usual, and barely looking up at his interlocutor.- Even if you're a prisoner, however, I have certain duties towards you and... Anyway, I think that wasn’t part of my duties. I don't know what happened to me. I should have controlled my desires, but I couldn’t, I wasn't strong enough and... I'm supposed to be strong, but it wasn't like that... I hope you can forgive me.

The Vala sighed, his eyes glued at the carpet, waiting for a downpour of reproaches and curses, and perhaps some physical attack. But instead, he only heard an evil laugh.
Not trusting his ears, he immediately raised his head and found Melkor leaning indolently on a wall, with a half amused, half mocking visage:

-Stupid Tulkas! You and your siblings have countless reasons to apologize, even on your knees, for all the grievances that your arrival in Arda caused me. But this isn’t one of them. Who gives you the right to judge how I feel about that incident? What you did to me there, tied to the kitchen table, is the only useful thing you’ve done since I’m here. It gave me great pleasure... and I think it was the same for you.

Tulkas scratched his head, stunned.

-Aren’t... Aren’t you mad at me? Then... why did you throw me a jug when I entered!?

-I don't need reasons to hate you. My hatred for you and the rest of the Valar is born spontaneously inside me. I threw you the jug because I wanted to hurt you, nothing else, it's that simple. I love your pain just as you love mine. It has nothing to do with that incident.

The dark Vala approached him, deviously. The shreds of his robe bared and hid spots of white skin as they moved, just as primordial darkness had done in the past. It was an obscene reminder of how he had been defiled shortly before.
Tulkas swallowed and backed away, until his back hit the wall.

-This is what you’re going to do: -whispered Melkor in his ear, running a cold and velvety finger down his cheek.- I want you to possess me with the same fury, with the same irrational passion as before, to tear from me the same moans of pleasure. No, I don't want it, I demand it! This is the fight that you and I will have from now on.

Of all the reactions that Melkor could have had regarding the incident, this was, without a doubt, the one that most frightened Tulkas. Everything would have been much easier if the other Vala had become angry, if he had strictly forbidden him to lay a hand on him again. Then Tulkas would have known what to do. He would have still desired him, of course, but he could have restrained himself, knowing that he had done wrong. Everything would be very clear, everything would be either black or white, without ambiguities.
Now, however, he was trapped in that twilight gloom that confused him so much.

And it was due to that confusion, to that feel of having lost his way, that Tulkas ended up walking one day through the only place where he hoped to find answers.
Mandos had not helped him, but his brother Lórien was the right person to guide him. He knew those desires as well, he could give him advice.

However, once he found himself in front of the Vala of Dreams and his servant, in the clearing of the last time, all his resolution vanished. How could he confess his secret? Even if Lórien loved that boy, and did similar things with him, Silmo wasn’t the Enemy of Arda, nor had he taken him by force. This had nothing to do with his problem.
Tulkas cleared his throat, before Lórien's questioning look, but didn’t dare to speak. However, he needed to say something, to come up with some excuse. If not, they would begin to suspect him. In the end, he pretended he had only come in search of a sleeping potion. Something to calm his nerves, now that he had to deal with Melkor at home.
Lórien gave him a faint smile, and Tulkas had the impression that his eyes guessed something else. Anyway, the Vala simply nodded, and disappeared into the thicket. Upon returning, he brought a glass jar with a rosy liquid inside, which gave off a sweet and sharp fragrance.

-A few drops in your wine glass will be enough to calm those nerves, dear Tulkas. -he said, handing him the bottle, but staring all the time at his face with those gray eyes.

Tulkas half muttered a word of thanks, and hurried out of the forest.
Lórien watched him for a long while, as he ran away at full speed.

-He’s like a stray beast, don't you think, Silmo? –he sighed.

The Maia laid a hand on his lord's shoulder, and leaned toward him with certain worry:

-My Lord Lórien, I think thou hast taken the wrong jar. That wasn’t a poppy potion. It was the elixir that thou and I use... well, when we want to get more "enthusiastic" in our meetings... if thou gets what I mean.

Lórien turned to the Maia, with a playful expression at the corner of his lips.

-Oh! Is it so, Silmo?... Such an unfortunate mistake! I'm so absent-minded...

Silmo narrowed his eyes:

-Thou wilt not have done it on purpose, right, my Lord?

-Who, me? Absolutely not! How could I!? -assured the Vala, putting on his most charming face. And he placed a sweet kiss on the boy's lips, who soon forgot all his concerns.

It was in those days, when all the eyes in Valinor turned to a specific Elf. The prince of the Noldor, Fëanor, to be exact. For he had achieved what neither Aulë, nor any of his Maiar with all their ability, had ever achieved. To encapsulate the light of the Trees in three gems, with all their infinite mixtures of hue and nuances.
His fame had become so great, that rumors of this extraordinary work had even reached Melkor's ears, in his seclusion.

At first, the dark Vala didn’t feel interest for the story of the Silmarils. What use could those vulgar jewels have for him, who had embraced the black night of the Void? Were they not a dull copy of the two Trees, whose light he hated so much?
This was so, until the day when an unusual glow flooded his cell. At that time, only Telperion should have shed its silver light. And yet, the room had suddenly filled with golden, red, green and blue flares, as at the moment of the most perfect blend between both Trees.
Melkor leaned out behind the bars of the window. And then he saw them: on the proud head of a Noldo who was walking near there, shone a headband with the three Silmarils set. Perhaps the Elf's wife was also with him, holding his arm, but Melkor wasn’t sure, because the light of those jewels eclipsed everything else for him.
It was then that the old desire to possess all light, which had dominated him in his early days in Arda, was revived in him. Revived with a virulent and painful outburst, perhaps for being the last one.
All light, the Silmarils represented all light. And he desired them, he agonizingly desired them from his prison.
He tried to attract the Noldo's attention by calling him, shouting at him, insulting and cursing him when he was ignored. But Fëanor just looked sideways at the Enemy of Arda, frowning in disdain. And he grabbed his wife tightly to get away as soon as possible.
Even during the brief moment when their eyes met, he had perceived a desire in the Vala's gaze that filled him with bad omens.

Unable to satisfy his lust for the Silmarils yet, but never forgetting them, Melkor let off some steam with Tulkas as soon as he had occasion. And he didn’t stop tormenting him, until he agreed to immobilize him with strong chains and possess him this way. Tulkas immediately noticed that Melkor was more aroused than usual, as he moaned and writhed under his muscles. Those encounters still filled him with guilt, but he was weak against his enemy's seduction.
When he finished, he slumped exhaustedly over Melkor's white chest, who was still chained. And he soaked in his scent, as he listened to the rhythmic pounding of his heart and his faltering breath.
It was the perfect time for the proposal that Melkor had in mind:

-Tulkas, dear... I was thinking that, since you’re a powerful lord of the Valar, and one of the most magnificent and hospitable, it wouldn’t hurt to organize a great dinner and invite our friends: Manwë, Oromë, Aulë and their wives... This mansion has seen very few celebrations since I'm here, and that's not right. I know how much you like revelry and feasts...

Tulkas suspected that his velvety voice hid ulterior motives behind those words. But he couldn't confront Melkor then. Not after having been inside his warm body, and spilling his seed in his entrails a few minutes earlier.
Thus, the fighter merely expressed his approval with a sleepy groan.

-Will you behave during the dinner?

-Of course! I’ll be the most discreet and polite of servants. I’m also interested in Manwë seeing progress in my behaviour... But Tulkas, dear, the party won’t be complete if you don’t invite the most important man of the moment. Fëanor. So he can attend with his Silmarils. Promise me that you’ll invite him, swear it. Without him, the party will be meaningless...

The spluttering of a half-sleeping Tulkas was all the approval Melkor needed. And he smiled to himself, immersed in his evil designs, even if he had to wait now for him to wake up, in order to be unchained.

The feast was held at Tulkas' mansion a few days later, and it was attended by Manwë and Varda, Oromë and Vána, Aulë and Yavanna, and of course, Fëanor, presiding over the table with his seven sons around. The absent were the usual ones, and in Nessa's case, Tulkas hadn't even managed to find and invite her.
Nor was Nerdanel, Fëanor's wife, able to accompany him.
The evening passed uneventfully, with a Fëanor between overwhelmed, upset and filled with pride, for all the attention he and his Silmarils were receiving from those gods.
Melkor kept his promise to behave like a good servant, although closely watching the prince of the Noldor.
More closely than it was comfortable for Fëanor.

-Those Silmarils are very beautiful ...  –whispered the dark Vala from behind the back of his chair.- I wonder if I could touch them.

-Perhaps thou shouldst wonder then if thy heart is pure enough to do so. Because my Silmarils burn the skin of every corrupted creature that tries to approach them. –replied the Elf, turning to him and holding his gaze in a defiant attitude.- What dost thou say, Melkor? Art thou a pure Vala?

The aforementioned twisted his mouth.

-Don't ask that to me. But to my master Tulkas. He’s the one in charge of watching over my behaviour.

All eyes were fixed then on the host of the house. And Tulkas was so startled, that he spit the beer in his mouth and turned completely red.

-Eh... well, I... I try... I try to educate Melkor but... uh... I think he’s a bit impertinent...

-Oh, there’s no need to apologize, dear Tulkas! –exclaimed Manwë.- I’m really pleased to see how my brother has progressed since he’s here. In previous days, he would have knocked the roof down on us, and would have melted your copper columns. And yet he’s standing there, serving us cups of wine as a good servant. He didn’t even want to eat or drink with us when we offered it to him. I don't know what you're doing with him, Tulkas, for him to have changed so much. But whatever it is, it works.

Upon hearing this, Tulkas blushed even more, if that was possible, and raised the mug of beer in an attempt to hide his entire face from those present.
From the back of the room, he had seen Melkor wink at him lasciviously.

What the rebellious Vala knew, and the others ignored, was that there was a concrete reason why he was so interested in serving the wine. In one of his trips to the kitchen, he had managed to slip a few drops into the cup of Fëanor, from an elixir that Tulkas kept in the cupboard. A bottle with a rosy liquid, which the fighter had marked as "poppy potion", with his usual bad writing. Fëanor and his children were going to sleep in the mansion, since Tirion was too far away to leave after dinner. And Melkor hoped that, once the potion took effect, Fëanor would fall so sound asleep, that he could sneak into his bedroom and steal the Silmarils unnoticed.
Certainly, his plan seemed to work, for towards the end of the evening, Fëanor began to stir restlessly in his chair. He seemed flustered and unwell, and ended up excusing himself to retire to his bedroom ahead of time. The other guests still endured a couple more hours, which seemed eternal to Melkor. But finally, Fëanor's sons also retired to sleep, and the other Valar returned to their respective mansions.

In the stillness of the house that followed that retreat, only the evil Vala remained awake and alert. Tulkas snored, drunk in his bed, and no noise came from the sons' bedrooms.
Standing in front of Fëanor's door, Melkor hesitated about what he should do.
Stealing the Silmarils... and then what? He couldn't hide them forever. And without a doubt, Fëanor would never leave the mansion until the jewels and the culprit appeared.
But perhaps he could steal their light, absorb it all until they were reduced to simple opaque crystals. Or he could destroy them in the worst case. Or maybe... Maybe it was enough to have them in his hands for a few hours, until he found a better chance. Yes... Having in his hands the most beautiful thing that Arda had given, the culminating work that combined the best of the Valar and the best of the Firstborn. To possess it for the moment... until it was time to possess Arda itself once more.
With these thoughts, Melkor turned the door knob, and slid into the bedroom. Telperion's light barely filtered through the closed shutters, plunging the room into a grayish gloom. He distinguished the figure of Fëanor on the bed, but no sign of the Silmarils. They should be well hidden inside a chest.
Melkor was about to look through the room in search of them, when the Elf's voice startled him:

-Who's there!? -and immediately, the light of a lamp drove away the chamber’s shadows.- You!! What... What are you doing in my bedroom!?

Melkor stayed on the spot, not knowing what excuse to let out, or if he should let out one anyway. His tongue had become quite skilled at lying, but he wasn’t so eloquent when he was forced to speak in Quenya, a language he despised.

-Hmm!... I thought your sleep would be deeper... -he blurted out at last, as a mere remark.

-Well, it isn't! In fact, I feel particularly "awake" tonight, I don't know why. But you still haven't answered my question: What are you doing here? You wanted to steal my Silmarils, right? I've suspected it since you laid eyes on them for the first time.

Melkor approached the headboard, still not answering his question, and looked amused at the Elf, with his head half tilted. Fëanor cringed under the covers, frightened by the closeness of the evil Vala, although his expression tried to hide it.

-You haven't warned the landlord about my presence yet. Should I suppose there’s something you want to negotiate with me in exchange for the Silmarils?

-Nothing, there’s nothing in this world I’d trade them for! And of course, nothing you can give me, Enemy of Arda, not even with all your power.

-Remember that I’m Melkor. It's much power we're talking about...

-Humph!

Fëanor turned his head to the other side. It was hard for him to keep his gaze on those eyes, open to a pit of evil, and he just wished the Vala would vanish.

-Are you sure there’s nothing I can offer you in return?

-No! I already have everything I could wish for. Talent, intelligence, a beautiful wife, seven sons, and my Silmarils. What could a prisoner like you give me?

-I could free you from your own prison ... –whispered the Vala, and his icy fingers caressed the Elf's cheek. Fëanor shuddered and tried to move away a little further.- What’s doing a being with such talent here, confined behind the mountains of Aman? Doomed to pale in the shadow of some gods who believe themselves greater than you. While all of Middle-earth is given to those Lesser Children of Eru, who haven’t even woken up yet. I could raise you above Aulë, as your superior skill in the forge deserves. I could give you emotions, greatness, ambitions, freedom... Are you going to stay here and allow those pathetic "men" to monopolize all the glory?

Melkor's words seeped in Fëanor's ears like a sweet, tempting poison. They were words that stirred well-known longings in him. Longings he feared, but could not deny. Why did the Enemy perceive the pride of his soul so clearly?
In the confusion of his thoughts, he had barely noticed that the Vala's fingers had run down his body, caressing him through the sheet. But when they reached his navel, Fëanor suddenly came to his senses and jumped.
Then Melkor knew why the Elf had cowered so much in bed all this time.

-So this is what you meant when you said before you were quite “awake,” right, Fëanor? -exclaimed the Vala with a laugh. Under the sheet, the prince’s arousal was more than evident between his legs.- Oh! I see there are more things you want from me than you dare to confess...

-That... That has nothing to do with you! I don't know... I don't know what happens to me tonight. I don't understand... And when Nerdanel isn't even here... -he tried to excuse himself.

Melkor raised an eyebrow suspiciously. Perhaps the elixir that he had slipped in his cup wasn’t an opiate, but something else. It was quite possible that the stupid Tulkas made a mistake when he labelled the bottle.
A malevolent smile peeked over the Vala's lips.

-You know? There are other things, apart from power, that I could give you to change your mind.

And before the Elf's horrified face, Melkor ripped the sheet that covered him and exposed his naked body, and the erect, yearning member that throbbed in the center.

-No!! What are you doing!? Stop! I don't want… -but a moan cut his last sentence when the Vala's lips closed around his sex.

Fëanor struggled to get rid of him, but his opponent held him tight against the bed, and was much stronger than him.

-Why don't you admit that you like this? –murmured Melkor, caressing the slit at the end with his tongue’s tip. The Elf shuddered and stifled a cry.

-No... I don't like it... What makes you think I’d want to do this with a repulsive being like you?

However, and much to his dismay, his body was reacting in the worst possible way, and his struggles were losing momentum. Fëanor cursed the strange bewitchment that made him so aroused tonight.

-Ah! But you’re a lustful Elf, aren't you? -Melkor kept provoking him, both with his words and his tongue.- After all, you’ve had seven sons, and that’s a lot for an Elf if I’m not mistaken. Which means you've fucked with your wife at least... seven times.

-Ha! And many more! Do you take me for an idiot?... Oh!

The Elf's thighs and abdomen were trembling, and Melkor felt the taste of his first fluids in his mouth.

-Give me the Silmarils, Fëanor, and I promise you I’ll give you more pleasure than is allowed for the Children of Eru in the confines of this world. I’m very skilled at this.

-I understand now... ah!... I understand now that all this time... you’ve been nothing but Tulkas’ harlot. Your favours cannot pay the price of my Silmarils... They’re rather a punishment...

-Well. Then I’ll rape you if you don't give them to me. Is that a better deal?

The Elf could barely answer now, choked among gasps. And he didn't even resist when the Vala parted his legs. That hateful tongue had dragged him to the brink of climax against his will, and he just wished everything would end as soon as possible.
What none of them expected was that it would end the way it did.

-Father? –a weak voice came from the door. And when they both turned, they bumped into Maedhros' dumbfounded face.- I... I thought I heard strange noises coming from the room and... and I got up and...

It was evident that Quenya wasn’t enough for the Elf to express the inexpressible.

-What are you doing standing there like an idiot!? Run for help! –Fëanor rebuked him, still immobilised under the weight of the Vala.

The youth hesitated, doubting whether that scene was real or he was still dreaming. But realizing that no nightmare or disturbance of his mind could ever produce such an image, he ran away as he had been ordered.
Seconds later, a livid Tulkas with bloodshot eyes watched the scene from the threshold. And his fists opened and closed twitching, marking all the veins of his forearm.
Melkor hadn’t even bothered to get out of bed, and blew a kiss at the fighter, with a mocking gesture. Fëanor, on the other hand, didn’t know if he was more enraged because they had tried to steal his Silmarils, or because everyone was standing there gazing at his privates, or because, after being left in such a situation, he couldn’t even get satisfied.

Tulkas grabbed the Vala by the neck, and dragged him out of the bedroom, while the prince of the Noldor tried to regain his composure.

-Don’t say a word about this to your mother! –he grumbled.

And Maedhros swallowed. He knew his father's temper all too well, to dare to ask questions.
Right after, Tulkas threw Melkor into a lightless room, and locked the door. The Vala spent many hours there, sitting in the dark, frustrated for not getting the Silmarils, though secretly satisfied by the scandal he had caused.
When the door finally opened, the silhouette of Tulkas was outlined against the threshold. And he had a thick black whip in his hands.

-I’ll teach you to treat our guests with the deference they deserve. -he announced with a deep growl, such as a bear about to attack.

Melkor crawled a couple of steps away from him, his instincts alert upon sensing danger. But Tulkas knocked him down on the ground and chained him to a ring on the wall.
With a yank, he opened his robe from behind to expose his back. And next, the whip cracked against his white skin, leaving crimson grooves on the previously unscathed surface.
Melkor clenched his teeth, while an electric current ran through each of his nerves and limbs. A stream of hate, and at the same time of pleasure, not very different from what he felt every time Tulkas penetrated him.
Melkor's laugh hurt the wrestler's ears:

-Hypocrite! You pretend to punish me for having dishonored that insignificant Elf. But both of us know that you don't care about that. You’re simply jealous because I was touching him, instead of you.

-Lies!! –roared Tulkas, wielding the whip with twice the anger, and tearing scraps of skin in his wake.

Drops of blood ran down his back like little streams, which flowed into the lake at his feet.
Melkor moaned in pain, and felt his member hardening among throbs.

-You know it's true, Tulkas. You just punish me because you can't stand me being involved with another. Because you want me, you want me all for yourself!

-No no no!! It's not that, you're wrong! –but no matter how much he shouted, he couldn’t silence the echo of those words in his head.

-Why are you doing this, Tulkas? Wouldn't you rather have me in your arms? Make love to me? –and again that accursed laugh that confounded his senses.- Make love to me, Tulkas.

Not knowing why, feverish, drowning in his madness, Tulkas dropped the blood-coated whip. And embracing his enemy from behind, he began kissing his neck and stroking him between the legs. The smell of his blood was more intoxicating than the best of wines.

-That's it... That's what you really want. –sighed Melkor, licking his lips with lust.

-No... No... Shut up! I don't want to hear your cursed voice... I must be insane...

-You are, dear Tulkas, you are... I’ll be your undoing.

At that moment, a knock on the bronze doors of the entrance echoed throughout the mansion.
A visit.
Tulkas was frozen on site, unsure of how to react in such a situation. He still had a bloody and visibly aroused Melkor in his arms. He couldn’t welcome anyone under those circumstances. What to do then?
A new knocking got on his nerves. And he thought he heard Manwë's voice calling him.

-It would be better if you opened, Tulkas. The so-called king of Arda comes to see you.

Confused, Tulkas ran to his chamber to change those blood-stained clothes. The knocking continued insistently. And when he opened the door, he was still panting because of the run.
Manwë and the gloomy Mandos were waiting for him outside.

-Huff! I... I'm sorry I made you wait... I was sleeping and didn't hear the call... -the fighter excused himself.

Judging by the visitors’ faces, he guessed his excuse wasn’t very credible. Not when his face appeared red and suffocated, instead of sleepy.

-Ahem! –Manwë cleared his throat.- Sorry to bother you, Tulkas. But I thought it would be a good idea to bring Mandos here, so he can confirm Melkor's progress himself. I was very impressed by his behaviour on yesterday's evening. It would be good if the Judge of the Valar saw with his own eyes how my brother is reforming.

-That’s it, if what you see with your eyes is no deception. –replied the Judge, with the hint of a smile on his pale lips.

Tulkas tried to hide the horror on his face.
Of course, Manwë didn't know anything about what had happened to Fëanor after his departure. And the prince of the Noldor had made him swear that this shameful incident would remain in the strictest secret, between him, Melkor and Maedhros. So in no way he could show Melkor in his current state. If they saw that scene of blood and sadism, vaguely sexual, they would discover how bad a guardian he really was. And then Mandos would take Melkor back to his halls. And he wouldn’t see him again.
Tulkas’ bulky figure blocked the entrance.

-I... uh... I'm sorry, but you can't see Melkor right now... -Manwë raised his eyebrows, surprised.- Yes, well... you see... Melkor got sick and he’s resting right now.

Mandos narrowed his eyes, although he said nothing.

-Sick? How is that possible? The Ainur don’t get sick. –replied Manwë, scratching his head.

Tulkas felt a cold sweat trickling down his forehead, while he tried in vain to find an appropriate answer.

-Ah, oh... Is... Is that true? I... don’t know…

-Allow me to see my brother, Tulkas. It will only be a moment…

But Mandos' hand on his shoulder stopped the king of the Valar.

-I think it would be better to listen to him, Manwë. Remember that Melkor is trapped in a physical body now, and as such, he’s susceptible to disease like any other living being. It’s a weakness linked to his new condition. Let him rest.

Tulkas sighed in relief upon seeing the two visitors turning around, to return where they had come from. However, before leaving, Mandos pierced him with a furtive stare that froze his blood. As if the Judge of the Valar had guessed the truth.

Mairon couldn’t understand why Melian had summoned him before the cliffs of that island of Tol Eressëa. For some time now, she had lived apart from others, and neither Eönwë nor he had heard from her. Therefore, that sudden meeting, and right there, had left him confused.
The maiden was standing off the coast, watching the calm sea. Telperion's rays reflected on its surface as in a mirror of enigmatic sparkles. And the sea breeze stirred her hair and clothes, bringing a melancholic smell from the beach.
This time, Melian didn’t smile.

-You have come in the end, Mairon. –she just said, upon sensing his arrival. But she didn't look away from the waves that broke under the cliffs.

-Something afflicts your heart, but I don't know what it is.

Melian turned her green eyes to him. They were the same hue of the sea when Laurelin's golden light fell upon it.
The Maia smiled, though sadly.

-I'm departing to Middle-earth. And I won’t return.

Mairon didn't know what to say.
He had sensed something when Melian went to visit his forge a few hours earlier, to meet him there. But he didn't guess it was something so definitive, so final.

-Why? There’s nothing but death and darkness on the other side of the ocean.

-There’s also life. There is life in the moist, dark and deep earth. Just as I guess that life can sprout from the dark cavity of my womb. –the maiden sighed, and after a long pause, she finally confessed what had tormented her so:- I want to be a mother, Mairon.

The other Maia shook his head.

-A grave is also a dark, deep cavity. If you do that, you will be tied to the bonds of flesh, Melian. And you will die, as the Children of Eru die.

-I still want to do it, I must do it. I have a feeling that this is something important, that it’s my fate to become mother. I know that the most beautiful songs will be sung about the fruit of my entrails, and it will bring a beauty never seen in the circles of Arda. –Melian then turned to Mairon, pulling a strand of black hair that the wind had blown on his face.- You won't come with me, right?

-No, I'm sorry.

-Don’t you love me?

-No.

Melian laughed softly. There was no surprise or disappointment in that cold answer. It was cold, because Mairon was so. She didn't expect anything else from him, and the familiarity comforted her.

-It doesn’t matter. I’ll search for my Elven king under the silver twilight, and we’ll be king and queen in his forest. You won’t come with me. And yet, I feel that we’ll meet once again in Middle-earth. Although perhaps, not as friends anymore.

Saying this, Melian placed a last kiss on Mairon's lips.
And leaving behind her physical form, she left for the other side of the ocean, transformed into a seagull.
The dark figure of Mairon stood for a while on the coast, until the white gleam of the bird was lost on the horizon. At his feet, the maiden had only left her dress, embroidered with flowers which looked like snowflakes under Telperion’s light.

After that, Mairon returned to his forge. And he worked for hours with the hammer and anvil, shaping a piece. With an empty, absent mind. Until his blows made dents in the metal, they broke it and left it unusable. The Maia threw the piece on the floor, furious.
For several days, no one saw him leave the forge, and the echo of his hammer rang tirelessly in the depths of the mountain.

Melkor was, as usual, sitting in his hellhole behind the bars. He stared indolently at the cuts and bruises on his pale arms.
Tulkas had been particularly ardent in their last encounter, he thought, biting his lip with a slight smile.
Then he noticed his presence on the window sill; he didn't even need to turn around to know it was that Maia dressed in black.

-Why, why would a god want to be trapped in a body of fragile and perishable flesh? - muttered the newcomer, without even greeting him.

Melkor raised an eyebrow, doubting if the question was addressed to him, or his visitor was just talking to himself.
Anyway, whatever Melkor had to say would always be more important than the thoughts of a pathetic Maia, so he decided to answer:

-No one asked me for permission to imprison me in this body. But I must admit, that being so closely linked to flesh has given me a knowledge and understanding of the world, that eludes the other Valar in their ignorance.

Melkor approached the window and spread his arms between the bars.
Then Mairon ran his finger languidly accross the blue veins and cuts that scored the Vala's skin, once pure and untouched.
Pain and pleasure. Real pain and pleasure, was that what he had discovered?
Mairon twisted his mouth in disgust; that was an obscenity, it had no value whatsoever. And realizing he had been stroking his arms for a while, the Maia withdrew his finger with revulsion.

-I didn’t mean that. There’s more to it. What could compel a female spirit to become pregnant by a vulgar Elf? Why surrender yourself to the lust of an inferior being, and destroy your own body to give life to another? A life that immortals don’t need at all? -Mairon shook his head.

Since Melian announced her departure and designs, that enigma had constantly haunted his head. And he felt all the more frustrated, because he wasn’t able to unravel the mystery. He, who always solved any problem by analyzing it with a precise and infallible logic.
But Melkor simply shrugged.

-Those are women's problems, they don't interest me. What are they but simple hollow vessels? And hollow as they are, I understand they can only be filled by becoming pregnant and giving birth. That is their only function.

Mairon showed a fang with a half crooked smile.

-Thou showest great contempt for the female gender. Isn't there a single woman in the confines of Eä that pleases thee, not even a little?

Melkor narrowed his eyes, as if trying to remember something.

-Perhaps... I once met a being... She was a mass pregnant with darkness, swollen, voluptuous. Thousands of filaments were born from her womb, like thousands of offspring thirsting for light. She seemed to me the supreme female, the supreme mother, the culmination of femininity. If I had to choose a queen, it would be her. But I don't need her; Melkor, the Mighty Arising, reigns alone.

-Now, however, thou "reignest" under Tulkas’ shadow, the culmination of masculinity. -Mairon laughed with malice.- I’m not surprised that thou art not interested in fragile femininity, accustomed as thou art to his muscles and strong arms. What does he do to thee, exactly?

Melkor turned away from the window and cast an oblique glance at his interlocutor, as he ran a finger provocatively accross his Adam’s apple.

-He does exactly what I order him to do. Tying me with ropes, with chains that sink into flesh until the bone creaks. He lashes me with whips, whose grooves leave their signature on my back. And the smell of my blood... that smell drives him insane.

Suddenly, the Vala approached the window again and grabbed Mairon through the bars, with a great force that those thin arms belied. With no time to react, the Maia was immobilized, his head pressed against the iron bars.
He felt then a wet tongue sliding down his cheek, his jaw, and even the corner of his lips.

-I let him do to me everything, except kissing me. He touches me between my legs... -and as he whispered this, he slipped his hand over Mairon's body and stopped at the slight bulge that could be guessed under his trousers.- ...And he licks me.

The Maia held his breath when he felt the Vala's tongue caressing him in that place through the black leather.
For some reason, he was left motionless and empty of thoughts. There was something, an incandescent energy, emanating from Melkor's body and burning him, leaving him helpless. Neither his will, nor even his feeling of disgust, were anything against that irresistible energy.
As if he were a mere spectator of what was happening to him, he let the Vala unzip his trousers with his teeth, and then put his member in his mouth.
An electric current shook Mairon's spine at such a strange and unusual sensation, and a sigh escaped from his lips. That mouth, that tongue, of a god who could have killed him with a single word in other times, was caressing him in his most sensitive and vulnerable area.
And this caused him terror and pleasure in equal parts.

-But Tulkas doesn't just do this kind of things to me... –continued Melkor, stopping at the moist tip of the member, now completely hard. The vibration of his lip and his breath’s caress against the slit, ripped a frustrated moan from the Maia.- ...There’s more. Tulkas likes to be inside me...

Then cold hands slid inside his trousers, caressing and separating his buttocks. Not knowing why, Mairon opened his legs instinctively. And he allowed the Vala's fingers to violate his inside, first one, and then another, and another.
The Maia threw his head back, holding his breath so as not to let out a cry.

-…Yes, Tulkas likes to penetrate me. All the way inside, until breaking and tearing my innards, showing no compassion. Sometimes with objects. Sometimes with objects that stay inside for several days. But he does it… because I desire it. –sighed Melkor, introducing the member full into his mouth, while his fingers brushed a particularly sensitive spot inside Mairon.

This time, his victim couldn’t stifle a moan of unmistakable lust, and he gripped the bars desperately.
But just then, Melkor withdrew his fingers from inside and turned away from him.

-Ah! But where are my manners? I had forgotten that you’re not interested in the vile matters of the flesh. You’re a pure, cold and impassive intellect in your solitary tower of reason. Isn't that right, Miaron? -he said, with an affected hand gesture.

Mairon looked at him confused, and then looked at himself: throbbing, suffocated, with his eager member still peeking between the bars... Pathetic.
With a furious shout, he got rid of his physical form, and materialized again within Melkor's own cell. It was the first time he dared to enter there, but he put aside his sense of danger to focus on the only objective that mattered now.

-Since thou hast started this, finish it at least! -he threatened.

The Vala backed away a little, until his back touched the wall.

-And what if I don’t? Are you going to rape me?

-I will, if necessary. -Mairon ran his tongue over his fang.- As long as Aulë's shackles restrain thy power, I don't have much to fear from thee.

And unsheathing the sword that he always carried on his belt, he pressed the edge against Melkor's throat. The latter swallowed, and nodded with half a smile.

-Fine, fine, go ahead! Do with me as you please... if you can.

Mairon snorted, and moved the sword away from his neck. Then, with a simple slash, he cut the clasp that closed the Vala's robes.
Before his eyes, a decadent spectacle of white skin, metal, and marks of torment was uncovered. A ring stuck in a nipple, another ring in the opposite one, and hooked between both, a silver chain across his chest. Also in the abdomen, in the ribs, in the navel, shone rings and pins, sunk in reddened flesh. As a goldsmith, Mairon could only admire such work of jewelry set in a living body.
With slightly trembling hands, he tried to stroke one of the nipples. That was when a sharp voice stopped him.

-Don’t touch me.

Mairon raised his head in disbelief. And at that moment, he met Melkor's gaze. But it was a different gaze, which he didn’t remember perceiving before. In those eyes, he saw with horror the night of the outer Void and the fire from the depths of Arda. The immensity of power, restrained but never extinguished, that was latent inside, that could engulf him and everything else.
And an unwavering will, more immobile than the roots of the world, seized him like a coiling chain. A single command was enough, "Don't touch me," and suddenly it was he who felt loaded with shackles and pierced by rings and chains. Slowly, Mairon withdrew his hands, despite his desire to possess that body.

-Stupid! Do you still not understand that you cannot do anything against my will? – whispered Melkor, with cruel sweetness, while holding his chin.- You’re my servant, you always have been. You have followed me since the beginning of time, since the Music of the Ainur.

-No... I don't... I haven't been... –stammered the Maia, his heart more and more agitated by a bad omen.

-Are you sure? Remember. Remember the Music. It’s a music that is engraved in the heart of all the Ainur, from the first chord to the final note. What did you sing then, unhappy Maia?

From the depths of his spirit, the memory of the Music emerged for Mairon. And he could hear it in his head with total perfection, as if it was sounding right there. He hadn’t followed Melkor's song, his notes were opposed to his, they were governed by order and symmetry, they clashed head-on against his discordances, and yet... And yet, upon separating his and Melkor's songs from the rest, upon hearing them clearly without the other melodies, he discovered with horror an irrefutable fact.
Far from colliding, both songs complemented each other perfectly, precisely because they were so opposite. They entwined, merged with each other, to the point that Melkor's music didn't even sound discordant anymore. No, the result was very beautiful, indescribably beautiful.
Mairon opened his eyes wide, and looked confused and horrified at Melkor. The Vala was smiling at him: perverse, sweet, seductive. Had he always belonged to him, even not knowing it? Was his supposed loyalty to Aulë nothing but a lie, an appearance?
Unable to bear this truth, Mairon left the cell, transformed into a black cloud from which two bat wings seemed to emerge. And he flew through Aman without sense of direction, dazed, aimless.
Perhaps he would have continued flying like this, in the midst of his madness, if a strong blow hadn’t knocked him down. Recovering his usual form, he looked at his assailant from the ground. It was Eönwë, who watched him with restrained anger.

-It’s all your fault!! -the herald rebuked him.

Mairon rubbed his cheek, where he felt the pain of the blow although a second before he had no physical form.

-My fault? What are you talking about!?

-Melian! She has left... Why didn't you stop her!?

Mairon rose from the ground, shaking the dust.

-That has nothing to do with me. If she wanted to leave for Middle-earth, what could I do to avoid it?

-Idiot!! She... she loved you. -Eönwë clenched his fists, trembling with rage, and his voice faltered.- If you had... If you had said something... If you had done something... she would have stayed with you, instead of marching to certain death... Into that land of darkness... alone... Couldn't you show any feeling on that imperturbable face of yours!? Not even once!?

Eönwë attempted to hit him again, but this time with much less resolve. Mairon had no trouble evading him.

-I wasn't going to lie to her. If I don't love her, I don't. This is a fact that she accepted, and she made her decision upon it. -replied Mairon.

His calm and coldness contrasted with Eönwë's excitement, provoking him to even greater fury.

-You don’t have feelings! You’re as cold and hard inside, as the gems that you like to carve so much. We won’t see our friend again... and you don't care at all.

Defeated, the herald dropped his shoulders with a sigh. Mairon raised an eyebrow when he saw him like that, and some suspicion woke up in his mind.

-Eönwë ... could it be that you loved her?

The other Maia fixed wet, red eyes on him. But he twisted his mouth with disdain:

-You're wrong. How typical of you, not understanding anything about others’ hearts!

-Oh, no? Well, I think that you loved her. That you were jealous every time she paid attention to me. And that you just get mad at me, because deep down you're mad at yourself. For not having dared to confess your love when you had still time.

Eönwë lowered his head, and to Mairon's surprise, he burst out laughing. A nervous and bitter laugh.

-All this time... How blind you’ve been all this time! Do you want... Do you want to know who I really love? Do you want to know my secret? -he muttered under his breath, as his choked laugh almost became sobbing. Mairon failed to answer anything in the midst of his bewilderment. Then Eönwë looked up at him; Mairon had never seen so much resentment and hate in those eyes.- It's you! It's you who I love, stupid! All this time it’s been you!

The herald turned his head to the other side, unable to look at the other Maia for another second. And he stood there, still shaking with anger, perhaps with shame.
In the heart of Mairon a thousand conflicting feelings were triggered. What to do with such a sudden and unexpected confession?
Eönwë was still there, at his fingertips, waiting for some kind of reaction from him. His friend was in a very vulnerable situation right now. But was he really his friend? Did he care about that Maia, or was it all false, like the fact that Aulë was his lord? If his true master was Melkor... if he had always been so... what did he care about the other Ainur? Fake friends, who had never understood him, nor could to. They’d never accept him once they knew his secret. Now he understood why he had never felt part of them completely.
And Melkor... He could still feel the soft caress of his tongue between his legs, his fingers inside him... The desire, the irrepressible desire that had awakened in his body. And how it had been left unsatisfied.
Mairon licked his lips.

-Do you love me then, Eönwë? And what do you expect from me, exactly? -he whispered, approaching him like a black cat on the prowl of a white dove.- Do you want me to kiss you? Is that what you expect from me?

Eönwë shuddered and swallowed, suddenly finding Mairon's face so close to his. So close, that his lips almost touched.

-N... No... I didn’t... I didn't mean that...

-I think you do. –and grabbing him by his nape, Mairon forced his head forward and sealed his mouth with a kiss.

At first, Eönwë struggled and tried to resist. But Mairon's tongue broke his weak defense and entered his mouth, intertwining with his. The herald let out a sigh, dropped his wings, and little by little, his body relaxed.

“He surrenders himself to lust so easily.” –thought Mairon, with a smile.

And surreptitiously, while Eönwë's arms encircled his back, he slid his hand down his side, his hip, and finally placed it between his legs.

-Ah! Mairon... what... what are you doing? Not there! –complained Eönwë, blushing.

Mairon chuckled, and stroked the semi-erect member under the tunic.

-You say I shouldn’t touch you here, but your cock is eager to come out and play.

-N... No...!

-Tell me, did you dream of me touching your most secret parts? Or maybe you touched yourself in solitude? Away from everyone's eyes, imagining that it was my hand which slid down your member. And feeling shame for your dirty acts and thoughts, for being so lustful behind that facade of moral righteousness. As it got harder and harder, and your hand got moist with your own fluids.

Eönwë let out a moan, and Mairon's lewd words only aroused him further. The other Maia had unbuttoned his trousers, and he felt his member’s tip caressing his own, while both shafts joined in the blacksmith's hand.

-This is wrong, Mairon... It's wrong... If Manwë found out... -he gasped, all the while rubbing against his friend.

Mairon had pushed him against the trunk of a nearby tree, so he was left immobilized and at his mercy.

-I'm going to fuck you. That’s what you really want too, am I wrong? –whispered Mairon, lightly sticking his fangs in his neck.

Eönwë shuddered. He felt some moisture flowing through his glans, and he could hear the obscene sound of Mairon's hand as the fluids spread accross both members. He didn’t dare to answer, so he merely separated his legs slightly and relaxed his muscles.
A glint of malice flashed in Mairon's eyes. And crushing him against the tree, he lifted the herald's legs freehand, and sank into his hot flesh. Eönwë couldn’t suppress a cry at the brutal assault, but his groans soon turned into moans of pleasure.
How long had he wished for that in secret? Joining in that way. Being open, completely open, while he filled him all the way inside. The dark figure of Aulë’s Maia, hard, sinewy as the roots of earth, penetrating the white and aerial body of Manwë’s Maia. Somehow, there was something concordant in the way their black and blond hair entwined, in the way the veins and sweat of one collided with the velvety skin of the other. Something concordant, and at the same time, blasphemous.
For Mairon, however, it was just a poor substitution of what he had wished to do with Melkor. The friction was pleasant, no doubt, and sent waves of pleasure through his member to his lower abdomen, and from there to the rest of his body. But he couldn’t perceive there the power he had perceived in the Vala. In that body so light, so air-like faint. So weak…
On the verge of climax, Mairon began to thrust inside him even harder. Eönwë's wings scratched against the bark, although the sensation of that member penetrating him again and again drowned out any notion of pain.
Then, a shudder ran through Mairon's spine. And in the midst of an explosion of physical pleasure and mental confusion, he spilled all his seed inside the other body.
With a last moan, and still panting, he moved away and released him. Eönwë fell to the ground, with no strength and trembling, but happy. Mairon didn't know if he had climaxed or not, but he didn't care.

Moments later, both Maiar lay in the grass, intertwined with each other. Eönwë's white hand caressed his partner through the black leather, and he let him do so, somehow apathetic.

-What are we going to do, Mairon? -he sighed, sinking his face into his neck.

-What are we going to do about what?

Eönwë frowned.

-About this, of course! We have united and... and I don't know how we’re going to explain it to others. We Maiar are not supposed to do this kind of thing... How am I going to talk about our love to Manwë!? I'm not even sure if we can get married, both of us being male spirits...

Mairon snorted and stood up, wiping the remains of grass.

-There's nothing to talk about. Because there’s no love at all. -he said coldly.- It's that simple.

Eönwë froze and opened his eyes wide.

-W... What... What are you saying? How come there’s no love at all!? You’ve just been inside me! We have embraced, we have kissed...

The initial stupefaction of the herald was giving way to gradual anger, judging by the trembling of his lip. Mairon shrugged and turned his back.

-You offered yourself easily and I took you. We’ve both satisfied our lust, and you haven’t enjoyed it less than me, if I’m not mistaken. But there’s nothing else between us, so you better forget what has happened. I don't love you, just as I didn't love Melian. In fact... maybe we can't even be friends anymore.

And with total indifference, Mairon walked away through the meadow, leaving Eönwë there on the ground. Half naked, consumed by indignation and shame.

-Wait, where do you think you’re going!? Don't you dare... Don't you dare to leave me here! Mairon!! First Melian and now me!? I swear... I swear you'll regret this!

But the Maia of Aulë kept walking without looking back, ignoring those vain threats.
Melian, Eönwë. Did they ever mean anything to him? She had chosen an uncertain and lonely road to Middle-earth. He had given himself as a toy, leaving aside all sense of honor and pride. Thus they should pay the price of their stupidity.
They no longer had anything to do with him... with a Maia of Melkor.
That was Mairon's third lesson in Arda. He learned what cruelty was, and that those who are weak easily succumb under it.

The Maia had a lot to think about, and they were gloomy thoughts. Perhaps because of this, his feet unconsciously led him to the western cliffs, near the halls of the dead.
As he looked at the horizon, towards the walls where Arda ended, beyond the inert waters of Vaiya, he felt a presence near him. Turning around, he found Nienna, standing and silent. Streams of tears fell down her pale cheeks.
Mairon shivered at the sight of her eyes... Or rather, the place where they should have been. And he wondered why she, the Valie whose function was precisely to cry for Arda’s pain, had chosen a face with two empty sockets instead of eyes.

-I don’t need them. -she answered in an impassive voice, reading his thoughts.- I watch the inside of souls, their torments, their passions, their fulfilled hopes and their hopes in vain. I don’t need eyes to see it, eyes can deceive and hide the truth.

Mairon turned back to the sea, and replied with some disdain:

-It must be very sad, having to cry for the pain of all Arda while nobody cries for thee. Above all, when it’s not in thy power to change the destinies of the world.

-Ah! But I’m not crying for Arda... -she replied, without the slightest emotion in her voice.- Now I'm crying for you, Mairon, just for you. Because of your descent into darkness, because of your fall, because you’re lost and no one can save you anymore.

These words stuck into Mairon with the ruthlessness of a knife. And turning to Nienna, he showed a fang in a gesture of contempt:

-Thou dost not need to cry for me, lady! My decision is made.

And that was how, shortly thereafter, Mairon returned to Melkor's cell. But this time, his visit was different. This time he didn’t come as visitor, but as vassal.
There, in that sombre room, hidden from Tulkas and the whole land of Aman, Mairon swore eternal loyalty to the Enemy of Arda. And despite his humble robes, Melkor's presence seemed like a king's to him. A king much more real, much more beautiful and legitimate than Manwë or any other Vala.
While he watched him kneeling, Melkor gave him a pleased, but enigmatic smile.

-You’ve always been my servant. But if you really want to follow me till the very end, you must know that I’m a severe master, and my love is bought with pain. You still have time to remain here. To pretend that you’re a Maia of Aulë and continue your life as a blacksmith as you’ve done so far. To carve pretty jewels, surrounded by beauty, by the songs of the Elves and the love of your friends. To live amidst this sweet lie. And one day, disappear without anyone remembering your name. Or you can come with me, and be lord under the shadow of the King of Arda. You will have your own slaves and troops at your command, the heads of your enemies will roll upon finding your sword’s edge, and you will soak the land with blood to please your master. Your name will be remembered and feared throughout Arda, and it will be so until the world completes the last of its ages. But you must be willing to face darkness, destruction if necessary, and the Void itself. Willing to be consumed as the ephemeral flame or sink into the abyss. Since one must always pay a price for true power. –and as if to emphasize this fact, Melkor stretched his wrists towards him, showing him the shackles of his captivity.

Mairon ran his fingers accross the metal, accross those shackles’ runes, whose magic he was willing to destroy now.
He raised his head to his Lord with resolve.

-Everything is decided. I choose power, glory, blood. And the Void, and the abyss, and everything that comes thereafter. I choose thee.

-So be it. -said Melkor.

And offering him the back of his hand for kissing, he sealed their union forever.