At the Edge of the Precipice by Cirdan

---

Chapter 1

---

Maedhros was brought before Morgoth in chains. A beam of wood rested
on his shoulders behind his head, and his arms were bound to that beam.
He had been stripped of his armor and came before the Throne of
Angband in his underclothing, and that had hung in tatters about him
because of the whips of the Balrogs. Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, forced the
son of Feanor onto his knees before the Throne.

"Maedhros, Eldest Son of Feanor, certainly by now you see the folly of the
boasts of Feanor," said Morgoth. His voice was dark and deep but still
powerful. Maedhros felt himself compelled to listen, to obey. "Serve me,
and I will spare the Noldor. I am not a fool. I see clearly the skill of the
Noldor, and it is of great use to me. I would have your people build for me
a kingdom more glorious than Valinor. Yea, and I will even allow your
people to dwell in it as my thralls. But defy me, and I will hunt the Noldor
like mere beasts."

"Do with me as you will, but I will not bend to your will," Maedhros said.

"Will you not?" Morgoth smiled, and the throneroom seemed to fall chill.

The black eyes of Morgoth pierced Maedhros's mind. Already on his
knees, Maedhros now fell onto his face. He felt powerless and unable to
breathe. It was like that time in Valinor when the Black Cloud had
attacked Formenos and the sons of Feanor had been powerless to aid their
grandfather Finwe. "You will yet submit," said the voice that seemed to be
whispering next to his very ear. "And then you will betray your people."

Maedhros's eyes flared. He twisted his head from the floor so that he could
meet Morgoth's dark eyes. The Dark Lord hesitated for a moment, for in
those eyes was the Light of the Silmarils. The Iron Crown weighed
heavily on Morgoth's head and the burning that never ceased became more
painful. The Dark Lord grimaced. At that, Maedhros smiled.

"I will not submit to you, Morgoth, Black Foe of the World," Maedhros
managed through gritted teeth. "Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean,
brood of Morgoth or bright Vala, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, Man yet
unborn upon Middle-earth, neither law, nor love, nor league of swords,
dread nor danger, not Doom itself, shall defend him from Feanor, and
Feanor's kin, who so hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth
or afar casteth a Silmaril." At each syllable, said with crisp enunciation, as
was the wont of Feanor's sons, Morgoth felt the Silmarils sear his
supposed immortal flesh. They filled the throneroom with brilliance that
drove away his foul servants, and even Gothmog retreated with howls of
pain.

Maedhros continued, "This swear we all: death we will deal him ere Day's
ending, woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou, Eru All-Father!" The
mention of Eru caused Morgoth to writhe in agony. The Silmarils upon the
Iron Crown weighed more than a mountain upon his head. He cast it off.
The crown bounced once on the floor and then skidded until it hit the wall
and lay still.

Still, Maedhros continued, "To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our
deed faileth. On the holy mountain hear in witness our vow remember,
Manwe and Varda!"

"Silence!" Morgoth roared. A lightning bolt shot forth from his hand and
struck Maedhros. The beam upon his shoulders snapped in two and
became charred. Maedhros gasped for breath but was inwardly pleased
with himself. The Silmarils had recognized him. Morgoth rose from his
throne and kicked Maedhros. He then retrieved the Iron Crown and placed
it atop his head. Maedhros could see the damage upon Morgoth's hands,
and Morgoth's face became contorted as the crown again weighed heavily
and burned with the power of the Silmarils, but he did not remove the
crown. "I will not kill you, Son of Feanor. If you will not serve me, then
you shall toil in my dungeons and watch as I crush the Noldor." Then
Morgoth stormed from the throneroom.

After several moments, a servant of Morgoth came to take Maedhros
away. Maedhros did not move. His face was still pressed to the cold floor.
The encounter had been too much for him. He felt drained. His knees were
like water. Part of him did not want to live, but he knew that he had to if
there was to be any chance of fighting Morgoth another day. He feared
what Morgoth would do and prayed that the sons of Feanor would be able
to withstand him. The servant of Morgoth eased him up gently.

"Maitimo, you should not have angered the Dark Lord." The voice was
melodious, as Morgoth's had once been, and Maedhros was surprised to
recognize it. He tried to look, but every movement made his neck ache.

"Try not to move," said Morgoth's servant. He stepped into Maedhros's
line of sight.

"Maimaite," Maedhros said.

Maimaite nodded and said, "It is I."

Maedhros knew this servant of Morgoth from the House of Aule.

Maimaite was a Maia and a student of the forge. Like all the Maiar, he
was beautiful. He'd chosen a form like that of the Noldor, and so his hair
was as dark as charcoal and eyes grey but bright. More lovely than his
incarnate form, though, were the works of his hands, and so the Eldar
called him Maimaite, the Beautiful-handed. Once, long ago, he and Feanor
had been close in friendship. Maedhros's eyes narrowed.

"So that's how Morgoth knew of the location of the Silmarils," Maedhros
said.

"Oh, please, Maitimo," Maimaite said. "There were only two Noldorin
cities, and it wasn't hard to guess in which was hidden the Silmarils. Yes, I
did tell my Master about the chamber of iron, but even if I had not he
would have wrecked all of Formenos and found the Jewels of Feanor."

"Master?" Maedhros snorted. "So then you serve the Dark Lord now."

"I do." Maimaite unchained Maedhros and picked him up like a babe. The
power of the Maia was still very great though he'd turned from the
goodness of his created nature. He brought Maedhros deep into the
dungeons of Angband and laid him onto a bed in one of the chambers.

Maimaite tended to Maedhros's wounds with gentle hands, bringing relief
to the burnt flesh and tired muscles. "Go ahead and ask," Maimaite said
after Maedhros had been silent for a long time.

"Why are you doing this?" Maedhros asked.

"Lord Morgoth commanded that you were to live and toil for him in
thralldom," Maimaite said. "You cannot do that if you are unwell."

Maedhros felt the strength return to his limbs as Maimaite continued his
ministrations. The Maia gave him new clothes, black but clean.

"I was not referring to the healing of my hurts," Maedhros said. "Why do
you serve Morgoth, Maimaite? You were once loyal to Aule, and you
seem to be of a good heart still."

Maimaite smiled a bit sadly. "Ah, Maitimo, you cannot imagine what
power Morgoth wields. He is a Vala, and long ago, he cowed my heart
into submission. I thought myself free of him, but once he summoned me
to his service again, I found that I was not. Perhaps you have not heard of
those days when Melkor first rebelled and turned many of the Maiar of
fiery nature to his bidding. Only Osse has escaped him, and that because
of his wife, Lady Uinen, but even now, the violent nature has not wholly
departed from his heart."

"You can be free of him," Maedhros said. Now healed, he gripped
Maimaite's arm. "We will fight him, and you can join us in our rebellion."

"Rebellion?" Maimaite laughed. "Nay, Noldo, do not forget that your
rebellion is against the authority of the Valar, not against Morgoth.
Against Morgoth, it is war." Though he specialized in matters of the forge,
long association with Feanor had made Maimaite very keen on the forging
of words into sentences.

"Then join in our war against Morgoth," Maedhros said. "You need not
serve him. You are mighty in power and would be most welcomed aid in
our war."

Maimaite only smiled. "No, Maitimo. In time, you will understand that I
came to serve Morgoth because, like the Noldor, I rebelled against the
Valar." He held up his hand to forestall Maedhros's words. "We will speak
of this later if you wish, but not now. My Master commanded that you
were to toil in Angband. I know that you will not forge weapons that will
be used against your kin, so instead you will suffer torment in the dark
mines of Ered Engrin, the Iron Mountains."

"Are you not afraid that I will seek to escape?"

"Do you want me to put you in chains?" Maimaite asked. Maedhros shook
his head. "Well then, I will not. But understand this: you are honor-bound
to remain in Ered Engrin. You are a prisoner of Angband, and you will
remain as such until your kin rescue you, and you and I both have no
doubts that they will in time. I trust that you will not try something as
dishonorable as escaping before you are either traded in a parley or
rescued by the armies of the Eldar."

"Is that how it is?" Maedhros said.

"It is." Maimaite smiled. "I know. It is new to me as well. I did not take
place in the War of the Powers and so I know little of the laws of warfare."

Maimaite led Maedhros down the tunnels of the Iron Mountains until they
reached a dead end. "Here." He handed Maedhros a pick and gestured at a
bucket. "I have brought you here so that you may work in peace apart
from the Orcs and Trolls. You are to mine for iron ore. I will return when
you tire and bring you to your dungeon cell in Angband. You see? It is not
so different from working in the Pelori Mountains in search of gems and
precious stones."

"Are you trying to convince me to serve the Dark Lord?" Maedhros asked
suspiciously.

"Indeed I am." Maimaite smiled. "And you are, in turn, free to try to
convince me to not serve Lord Morgoth when we converse on these
matters. But I'm afraid that now is not the time for such conversation. I
have other business to attend to." He half-bowed to Maedhros. "Work hard
though. I must bring the bucket of iron ore to Morgoth when you are
finished as proof of your suffering."

Though it seemed inappropriate to exchange such courtesy with the
enemy, Maedhros also inclined himself slightly to Maimaite. The Maia
left, and Maedhros took up the pick and sought for the iron ore as he'd
been bidden to do. He didn't expect his brothers to come to his rescue
soon, and so he knew he'd have to bide his time, work in thralldom until
that day came. His spirit was still bright from the Light of Aman, and so
he worked tirelessly for hours. Maimaite had left him food and water, and
Maedhros paused in his labor only for brief moments of repast. The Iron
Mountain was hard and unyielding, and each strike of the pick resonated
through the muscles of his arms in a way that was unlike his mining
experiences in the Pelori Mountains. Somehow, for some reason, the
torment felt good. Once he adjusted to the ringing of the pick as it struck
the mountain, Maedhros was able to think about other things as he toiled.
He had not been able to stop and reflect instead of simply react to a given
situation for a long time now.

Maedhros was stirred from his thoughts by Maimaite, saying, "I thought I
could trust you to be honorable, yet now I find you seeking escape from
your imprisonment. Don't you know that I will be the one punished if you
flee?"

"I have done no such thing." Maedhros leaned his pick against the tunnel's
wall and wiped his brow. "As you can see, I have been laboring in torment
as you'd demanded."

Maimaite paused in his fury and gestured around. "All this? You've done
all this to torment yourself?"

Maedhros nodded. "When the bucket filled, I began to simply leave the
iron ore on the right side, the rubble on the left." He stopped and looked
back at his handiwork, but the lamp did not cast much light.

"You idiot," Maimaite said with a note of affection. He smiled. "You work
too hard. I've dealt too long with Orcs and Trolls, who are lazy and
pretend to work or will not work very hard unless pressed. Instead, I have
here one good miner who is worth a thousand of them." Maimaite
gestured. "Come. Let's have you bathe and refresh yourself after such hard
labor." After leading Maedhros down the tunnel for some time, Maimaite
stopped. "Here is where you first began your work. You have tunneled
farther than even I expected. At first, I'd thought that you were digging for
yourself a way of escape. But there is enough iron ore here to present to
Morgoth for at least a month. Perhaps you need not toil again for some
time."

"It is my lot as a prisoner, is it not?" Maedhros said.

"Yay, but I am your warden, and I shall be the one to decide the extent of
your suffering." Maimaite shook his head. "Certainly if I left it to you, you
would torment yourself more severely than that designed by the Dark
Lord. Indeed, if I'm not careful, you may tunnel through the foundations of
Angband and bring its ruin."

"You flatter me, Lord Maia," Maedhros said. It was odd that they could
have a conversation so similar to one that would've occurred in the
Blessed Realm here in the lands of the Dark Lord.

A hot bath of clean water was prepared for Maedhros. He stripped and
sank into it gratefully. The heat eased the soreness in his muscles. It felt
like a good day, a productive day. Maimaite, sitting at the edge of the bath,
offered him some wine and refreshments.

"Will I be in debt to the Dark Lord if you show me such kindness?"
Maedhros asked.

"Of course not." Maedhros accepted the drink and was pleasantly
surprised when he sipped it. "It's from my personal collection," Maimaite
said with a smile. "Yavanna gave me several cases when I was still new to
this world."

"It's strong."

"Of course. It's nectar."

"Nectar?" Maedhros handed the glass back to Maimaite. "I cannot drink
this."

"Why? Because the Valar say so? It is nothing more than strong wine."

Maimaite pushed the glass back to Maedhros.

"Surely you did not rebel against the Valar because of wine!" Maedhros
said. He sipped from the nectar once more. It was sweet and thick yet
smooth and more powerful than any wine. Maedhros felt his face flush. He
had not reacted such to alcohol since he was young.

"Nay. In the beginning, I feared Melkor's growing need to dominate the
will of others. I sought refuge in Valmar, as did many of the Ainur. There,
I became the pupil of Aule." Maimaite shook his head at the memories.

"Ah, but I did not know how deeply the Dark One had touched me. When
the Valar at last decided to overthrow Melkor in spite of the hurts that
such a battle would do to the world, I felt compelled to aid Melkor, but I
hid behind the standard of Aule."

"Then you did not rebel against the Valar, for thoughts are not deeds."

"You do not understand. I did betray them. Melkor's hold was strong over
me. He read my thoughts, and through me, he knew of the Valar's plans of
attack. It was not until my treachery was discovered that the Valar were at
last able to make headway in the war," Maimaite recalled.

"But after the Battle of the Powers and when Morgoth was chained, you
reformed and served the House of Aule," Maedhros said. "Surely the
Valar forgave you for your earlier crimes."

"Yes, and for a long time, I thought all was well. But the dark seed that
Melkor had planted in me festered, and unknown to even myself, I came
to resent the Rules of Valinor." Maimaite looked away, as if ashamed of
himself. "When Melkor at last revealed himself to be a Dark Lord, I was
drawn to him. I, too, wanted to subjugate others to my will. I could not do
so in Valinor, but I could as second in power to Melkor. And so I am here
in Angband, myself a Dark Lord, though one lesser than Lord Morgoth."

Maedhros shook his head. "Truly, I confess that I do not understand. I am
myself a prince, and I rule the lives of others as well. Am I then also evil?
And does Manwe not rule as High King of Arda? Is he evil too? Nay.
What, then, is the difference?"

"I said that I wished to subjugate others to my will, not that I wished to
rule them," Maimaite said. The word play again. Maedhros shook his head
again. "Still you do not understand? Perhaps it is because you are still
good at heart despite the rebellion and the kinslaying. Work the mines yet
longer and you will come to understand."

"Very well." Maedhros put his wineglass onto the floor beside the bath.
He stretched. His muscles, loosened from the warm bath, eased into the
stretch and purred to him. "In any case, it is my fate as a prisoner. I believe
I will be ready for more hard labor, and it may be as you say, that such
work will make your point clear to me."

"Yes." Maimaite smiled. "Would you like me to give you a massage?
Your muscles look relaxed, but they might enjoy the treat."

Maedhros flashed Maimaite a grateful smile. The Maia disrobed.

Maedhros turned to face the wall of the bath. He folded his arms on the
bath's edge and rested his cheek to his arms. Maimaite joined him in the
still warm water and moved over his flesh with strong, sure hands. His
back felt reborn as Maimaite rubbed his muscles. Maedhros became so
relaxed from the food, wine, and fine massage that he fell asleep in the
bath.

When he awoke, he was robed and sleeping in a bed in the dungeon of
Angband. He'd scarcely remembered that he was still a prisoner, and so he
was grateful for his harsh surroundings. Maimaite came to him some time
after he'd awakened. They had breakfast together. Then Maedhros was put
to work in the mines again. This routine happened several times, and each
time, Maedhros worked hard in search of the iron ore. He thought as he
worked, of his conversation with Maimaite, of the death of Finwe and
Feanor, of the theft of the Silmarils and the rape of the white ships of the
Teleri, and of the kinslaying. When he'd worked in the mines seven times,
at last, Maedhros understood the evil that Maimaite had sought to explain
to him.

---

Chapter End Notes

This is inspired very loosely by the three temptations of Jesus. "Be he friend or foe..." (X.112).