Captive by tinni

---

Chapter 4

---

Captive

Chapter 4

******

The room, as Morgoth called it, was strange indeed. Some not entirely wholesome magic had enabled something resembling grass to grow on the floor and vines to cover the walls. But while the grass and vines provided a vision of green within the hell of iron, they were not free from taint of Morgoth. The blades of grass were razor sharp and they cut the bare feet of Fëanaro and closer inspection of the vines covering the walls revealed dagger-like thorns. It was clear to Fëanaro this room was designed to hold Elves for long periods of time. It was a matter of nature; Elves needed living things other than themselves to survive. If such were denied to them, then only the fear of a fate more horrible would prevent them from fading out of existence.

“Like the prospect of spending eternity in ever lasting darkness,” came the unbidden thought to Fëanaro as he looked down on the prone body of his son, light and limp in his arms. “Is that why you still live, Russandol?” he wondered, “have I done this to you as much as Morgoth?” But Nelyafinwë had lost consciousness some time ago and could not hear him.

“Do what you will quickly.” Sauron whispered in a soft tone not entirely free from malice. “My lord will not wait long for his… payment.”

“If your lord will not wait then you had better provide me with all that I ask and quickly,” snapped Fëanaro. “Like some wholesome food, more clean drinking water and a nice soft bed. I can hardly put Maitimo down on this grass; I might as well be putting him down on a bed of jagged blades.”

“I am not your servant!” Sauron replied curtly as he turned to leave.

“No but you are Mor… Melkor’s servant. He wants me as quickly as possible. I am telling you that for me to go to him as quickly as possible would require you to bring me all the things I asked for, and some clean bandages,” Fëanaro reasoned in a tone that marked his irritation.

Sauron would have returned another cutting reply but he heard the voice of Morgoth in his head. “Do as he says, Sauron. Do not pout, my Maia. If he does not please me then you can have both of them for your torture instruments.”

The prospect of having them both for his devious devices and cruel implements almost made Sauron break out in a grin. He dearly hoped Morgoth would find the Spirit of Fire lacking as he swiftly executed the tasks assigned to him. The glee in his eyes did not go unnoticed by Fëanaro, nor did his sudden desire to complete the tasks that he obviously thought below him. What could this change possibly mean? It was clear Morgoth and Sauron had held a conversation just before the change came upon the Maia, but what had he been told? Whatever it was, Fëanaro knew that it brooded ill for him and Nelyafinwë. Yet, he could see no way out of this hellhole.

***

They were finally here. The never-ending Helcaraxë did indeed have an end. The host of Nolofinwë had finally reached Middle Earth, and it seemed to them that thou the curse of Mandos was upon them also, the Valar, as a whole, welcomed their arrival; for just as they set foot on the long sought lands of Middle Earth a new light arose from the West and bathed them in its silver glow. Findekáno greeted the new moon and knew it to be the last remnant of Telperion. His heart constricted, for it was by the light of Telperion when Laurelin waned that he and Maitimo had first shared a lover’s kiss. He turned his face away from the now brightly lit West and looked out towards the vast, dark, almost ominous landscape stretched before him without end. He had to find him, he had to find Maitimo and soon.

***

The room he was taken to, after he finished tending to Maitimo, contained nothing but a large bed. Morgoth was already on the bed, stark naked save for his Silmaril studded crown. Fëanaro could not help but take an involuntary step back. Morgoth looked so much like him. It was as if the Dark Lord had taken his hroä as model for his fanna. “Indeed I did my Fëanaro,” whispered Morgoth, “for what other Elf has enough fire to excite me, to hold my interest but you?” Then he grinned. “Now come and show me how grateful you are to me for allowing you to tend to your dear boy.”

Bile rose in Fëanaro’s throat at the prospect of coupling with Morgoth. He wanted to spit it out; he wanted to scream that if Morgoth laid a finger on him he would leave his violated hroä as all Elves do when they are forced into acts of such carnality.

“But if you do any of those things then your eldest will hang from the tallest cliff of my realm by his wrist, his right wrist,” whispered Morgoth seductively. “Defy me if you dare, my Spirit of Fire.”

Fëanaro did not dare and so he joined Morgoth on the bed. By the light of holy jewels he himself wrought, he allowed Morgoth to ravage him.

***

“Kanafinwë,” called Findekáno, interrupting the mighty singer as he sang a song about the new light. “Where is he?” he demanded, “Where is the high king?” He dared not name Maitimo, not yet, and hoped that in asking about Fëanaro he would get some news about Maitimo.

“You mean where is your lover?” sneered Macalaurë. Findekáno flinched, equally at the tone of Macalaurë’s voice as what he said. “You would not interrupt my song for my father or grandfather. You would only do it for Maitimo. If you have learned Maitimo is now the High King of the Noldor then in time you would learn where he is from the same source,” he snapped as he returned to his harp.

Findekáno blinked. “Maitimo is now the High King?” he repeated.

Macalaurë looked up in surprise. “You didn’t know?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Findekáno snapped. “Who from your camp has come to ours in the seven days we have been here?” he wondered. “No one, no one has even ventured close enough for us to overhear any news and rest assured we have sent no spies.”

Suddenly Macalaurë began to laugh a fey laugh. “Your spies would have had quite a tale to tell, Findekáno. My father has been slain by Balrogs and my brother is a prisoner of Morgoth. I am supposed to lead my people in my brother’s stead but all I want to do is sing.”

It was then that Findekáno realized a steady stream of tears had been making their way down Macalaurë’s cheeks even as he had been singing a song of joy. “So leave me, Findekáno, and tell my uncle that he need not seek revenge. The curse of the Noldor and fate has already extracted it for him.” With that, Macalaurë the Mighty turned away and acknowledged his presence no more. After a time Findekáno left, his mind making a desperate resolution.

******

Translations:

Fëa – soul

Hroä – body

Kanafinwë, Macalaurë – Maglor

Findekáno – Fingon

Maitimo, Russandol, Nelyafinwë – Maedhros

Nolofinwë - Fingolfin

Author’s notes: Thanks to Andreth for beta reading. I know time is a bit muddled up in this story, but its mostly deliberate since I wanted to show that inside Angband the perception of time was different. A year felt like a day or a day like a year, depending on how much torment you were suffering. Of course the other reason is that according to calculation done by people much smarter and more knowledgeable than me, Maedhros spent fifteen years in Angband, ten of them hanging from the infamous cliff. To me this seems an unworkable situation without assuming that Maedhros was taken down from the cliff once every week for food, drink and general rest.

I mean come on, Elves need to eat and drink and a long discussion in HASA concluded that Elves do sleep but can go without sleep for long periods of time due to the waking meditation thing they do. Even if Maedhros tried to stay alive because he thought that if he allowed himself to die he would be breaking the oath and thus would fall into everlasting darkness, his body would simply die from starvation and general wear and tear. Of course to me, the fact that Maedhros asks Fingon to kill him is proof that he wasn’t trying to stay alive.

The other alternative is that Morgoth put some sort of spell on him that kept him alive like that, but if that is the case than Maedhros might never have had to eat, drink again. Unless of course one says that Morgoth removed the spell when he was rescued. Which is entirely possible, but to me it seems that if Morgoth did do that then Maedhros would die instantly, since the spell was the only thing holding his body together till he was taken back to the camp for treatment. Of course, if Morgoth left the spell intact then one can make the arguement that Maedhros did not die when he jumped into the lava filled pit. The spell of Morgoth kept him alive and he is floating in a river of lava somewhere, paying for his crimes by being tormented in the flames at the heart of Arda.

Thanks to Kasura for the lovely Fingon/Maedhros pictures.

Next Chapter