Burning by chrissystriped

Burning

Read Burning

Melkor was listening to Artano’s report when his slave made a small sound and toppled over beside his throne. Artano continued without batting an eye. Winged dragons, it was something Melkor was very interested in, but he couldn’t concentrate now – not when he didn’t know what was wrong with the boy. He couldn’t show too openly how worried he was for his slave, of course. Melkor lifted his hand an Artano fell silent.

“Good work, Artano. I’ll want to hear more about it later, but now I need to be alone.”

‘Sinthoras, stay’, he said into the Maia’s mind and waited impatiently for the throne room to empty before kneeling down beside his unconscious slave.

The boy’s forehead was burning under his hand. His cheeks were red but the rest of his face was wax-pale. He felt Sinthoras crouch down beside him and looked at him, not trying to hide his worry. Sinthoras knew how much the slave meant to him.

“He’s running a fever”, Sinthoras said while feeling for the boy’s pulse. “Did you beat him badly the last few days?”

Melkor shook his head. “No, I don’t know what...”

Sinthoras squeezed his arm. “We’ll figure it out. He should be in bed. Let’s bring him to your rooms, yes?”

Melkor nodded and lifted the boy up. He was so hot... “He seemed to be alright in the morning. And... elves don’t get sick.”

Sinthoras shook his head. “Elves don’t get sick the same way as humans do but there could be other reasons for his condition.”

Melkor hurried his steps, he needed to get him home. “What did he eat yesterday?”

“Nothing I didn’t eat, too”, Melkor answered. “And I feel good.”

“But our bodies are more resilient than those of elves. Did he throw up?”

“Not that I’d noticed, but...” The boy was good at hiding it when he felt unwell, maybe he just hadn’t noticed. “But it didn’t taste like it was spoilt.”

He wrapped the boy in his blanket and laid him on the bed, caressing his glowing cheek. He looked so small. Sinthoras filled a bowl with water and wet a cloth in it that he put on Mablung’s forehead. Melkor sighed relieved when Mablung’s lids fluttered and he opened his eyes.

“Drink something”, Sinthoras said immediately and held a glass to his lips.

Mablung obeyed silently, his eyes wide. Melkor could feel his fear.

“Don’t be afraid, nethben”, Melkor said gently. “Sinthoras can help you. Answer his questions.”

“You fainted, Mablung”, Sinthoras said and put the glass on the nightstand. “How long have you been feeling unwell?”

“My eyes felt hot and dry when I woke and... I wasn’t hungry, but I didn’t feel as bad as now.”

Melkor could hear the panic in his voice und caressed his hair to calm him. He didn't feel very calm himself, but it wouldn't help the boy to see that.

“Can you think of something that might have caused it?”, Sinthoras continued.

“I...” Mablung frowned and winced. Then he moved his arm from under the blanket and showed them the inside of his forearm where the skin was reddened and covered in small blisters. “I touched fire moss when Master visited the kennels. It grew on the wall and I did only notice it when I touched it. I’m sorry, I should have been more attentive.”

Melkor growled. There was an order to keep the tunnels free of fire moss, someone had been sloppy – he would come to regret it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” It came out sharper than he had wanted it to and the slave winced. “Shh”, Melkor said more gentle, “I’m not angry with you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you, herdir”, Mablung whispered. “It hurt but it wasn’t that bad and I didn’t know this could happen.”

“I’ve seen these symptoms on people before. Your body is fighting the plant poison. I’ll make a balm for your arm. Do you have a headache?”

“Yes, herdir.”

Sinthoras nodded. “I’ll get you something for that, too.” He looked at Melkor again. “Can he sleep in your bed? It would be more comfortable for him.”

“Of course.” Melkor caressed Mablung’s cheek. “Anything to make him better.”

Sinthoras smiled knowingly. “Good. He needs to drink a lot and...”

‘How bad is it?’, Melkor interrupted him. He was sure that Sinthoras wouldn’t tell Mablung if it was really bad. ‘I know why you insisted on stamping out the moss. People died.’

‘Yes, but they were much more sick at this time. The fever is not harmless, but if you take care of him, he’ll survive. Don’t worry, Melkor, you won’t lose him.’ Sinthoras smiled at him and Melkor sighed in relief. “Do you want me to find a nurse for him?”

Melkor shook his head. “No, I can do that myself.” The boy looked surprised but Sinthoras only continued to smile.

“Keep the cloth cool, except if he feels cold. I’ll leave to make the balm.”

“Can you drink something?”, Melkor asked and helped him sit up when the boy answered in the affirmative. “If something like this happens again, or you feel unwell for some other reason, I want you to tell me before you faint”, Melkor said, keeping his voice calm. He wouldn’t punish him for it, and surely not while he lay in bed burning with fever.

“Yes, herdir”, the boy answered.

Melkor could see that he was holding something back and hesitated for a moment before he decided that he could cut some slack under the circumstances.

“You are allowed to speak freely as long as you are sick.”

The thought that his slave might wait for something to drink until he remembered that he needed it, was disconcerting.

“Thank you, herdir. Is it bad?”

Melkor shook his head and continued to caress his hair. “Don’t worry, nethben. You’ll get better soon and until then I’ll watch over you.”

“Thank you, herdir.”

Melkor heard his teeth chatter and asked: “Are you cold?”

“Yes, herdir.”

He sounded miserable and Melkor kissed his cheek before lying down beside him to warm him. He was glad that he was strong today and could help Mablung. The boy snuggled into him and Melkor held him tight.

“Let me rephrase that. You not only have permission to speak, you are ordered to tell me if I can do something to make you more comfortable. If you are cold, if you feel too hot, if you are thirsty – whatever.”

“I don’t want to be a burden, herdir. I’m just a slave”, the boy answered and Melkor blinked surprised.

It was the closest his slave had come to talking back since... he couldn’t even remember.

“You are my slave”, Melkor said and kissed his forehead. “You aren’t a burden.”

Of course, he had other things to do than to lie here and the slaves were told that a sick slave was a useless slave – but he wouldn’t say that. Mablung shouldn’t feel like that.

“Don’t worry, nethben. You are exactly where you are supposed to be and I am exactly where I want to be.”

Melkor continued to stroke his damp neck and wished he could do more. Sinthoras quietly came in and lifted his eyebrows at him.

“He was shivering and I can warm him”, Melkor answered his silent question.

‘Take care of anything important. You can come to me if you run into problems, but I don’t want any other visitors.’

‘As you wish.’

“The balm will help against the burns on your arm, Mablung. Can you stretch it out for a moment?”

Mablung obeyed and Melkor watched Sinthoras apply a thick layer of salve.

“Twice a day”, he told him, “or if it starts to hurt again. And this is for the headache.”

“Open your mouth, nethben”, Melkor said and Sinthoras dripped a few drops into his mouth.

“He should sleep as much as he can. I’ll look in on you again tomorrow. Call me immediately if he gets worse.”

Melkor nodded. “Thank you, Sinthoras.”

Sinthoras shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me for that. It’s the least I can do.”
 

Mablung squirmed a little in his Master’s embrace. It wasn’t just his head, his joints hurt, too, and he couldn’t find a comfortable position. And... “Herdir?”, he mumbled embarrassed.

“Yes?” His Master kissed his forehead.

He was so gentle. Mablung had expected him to be angry about his clumsiness. Or that he would shift him off on Sinthoras until he was well again and of use to him. He hadn’t expected him to warm him with his own body.

“I’m sorry, herdir, but it’s too hot now.” His heart started to race in expectation of an angry reaction, but his Master had ordered him to tell him.

Melkor sighed and then the temperature under the blanket dropped. “Better?”, he asked.

“Yes, herdir. Thank you.”

“Try to sleep. You heard what Sinthoras said. Or would you like to drink something first?”

“Yes, herdir, that would be nice.”

The medicine had left a bad taste in his mouth and his lips felt dry. He was sweating – and still his Master held him. Mablung was grateful that he could lean against him to sit up. He felt weak and tired. His head was still throbbing but it was getting better.

Mablung pushed the collar up, it stuck uncomfortably to his damp skin and it felt so heavy. He wished... but he couldn’t ask for that.

“Please, herdir, would you sing for me?”, he asked for something else before he could lose his courage.

His Master sounded surprised. “A lullaby, you mean?”

Mablung nodded. “I don’t want to make demands on you, herdir, but... I think I’d sleep better.”

“What do you wish to dream of, nethben?”, his Master asked.

Mablung closed his burning eyes, he could feel the gentleness his Master felt for him – he could almost imagine that this was... more.

“Home”, he answered and wondered if the fever made him lose his mind.

“You lived in Tirion, didn’t you?”

Mablung nodded. His Master moved them around until Mablung’s head rested on his arm and he embraced him from behind, then he started to sing and Mablung realised with surprise that it was an elvish song, as old as Tirion. The building of the city, the Mindon Eldalieva, the colourful lamps in the streets...

 

The light of Telperion was bright, it was late and Mablung shouldn’t be out, but he had sneaked away to visit his beloved. He hurried up a flight of stairs that led through a tunnel of wild grape and took the shortcut through a backyard with a fountain. He knew the climb up the garden wall by heart and stopped on the windowsill to watch his beloved.

He sat in front of the mirror and combed his long black hair ('Shouldn’t it be golden?', a part of his mind wondered), his blue eyes met Mablung’s in the mirror and he smiled at him before turning around and opening the window.

“There you are, Mablung”, he said and kissed him. “I missed you, love.”

Mablung’s heart sped up at the endearment. “I missed you, too, but father...” He shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that now.

“I love you, Melkor”, he said instead and kissed him back.
 

Mablung woke with a start, but his Master’s arms held him and he relaxed again. He could hear sounds and slowly opened his eyes. Any sense of time had left him, but it was dark outside the window so he must have slept a few hours. He sat in his Master’s lap, who had moved to the armchair, and he was cocooned in a warm blanket. Mablung remembered his dream. It had been Glorfindel’s house, but it had been Melkor who waited for him – it could have been a nightmare, but for him it wasn’t. Mablung snuggled into the embrace and lifted his head. Two slaves were putting clean sheets on the bed.

“You were sweating so much”, Melkor said when he saw that he was awake. “The sheets were damp. And you were shivering again. Are you cold?”

“No, herdir. I’m sorry for all the trouble.”

Mablung relaxed into his Master’s hand, who rubbed his sweaty neck and was glad that he was so gentle. His whole body hurt, he couldn’t have borne it if his Master had been angry at him.

“You are sick, nethben. You don’t have to be sorry for something that’s not in your power to change.”

Mablung gasped when he realised that something was missing. His heart sped up and his own hand flew to his neck where the collar should be – but it was gone. What did it mean? Was he giving him away?

“The collar, herdir, what...”

“Shh”, hummed Melkor. “Relax, nethben. Breathe slowly.” Mablung realised that he was panting. “You tugged on it in your sleep.”

“Forgive me, herdir! I’d never...”

“I know”, his Master stopped his panicked apology. “You asked me for it and it never seems to bother you. I thought that it might feel uncomfortable on your sweaty skin. You’ll get it back once you feel better.”

Mablung felt faint with relief – or maybe it was the fever. “I thought, you maybe don’t want me anymore”, he said and noticed that he again was saying things he’d never have dared to voice under different circumstances.

Melkor huffed and kissed his forehead. “Think, nethben. If I didn’t want you anymore, would I take care of you myself, hm?”

Mablung’s cheeks were already hot and flushed, he wondered if he could blush more. His Master held a cup to his lips. “Sinthoras said you need to drink.”

When the slaves had finished their work and left – Mablung wondered if they were as surprised as he that his Master cared for him himself – his Master carried him to the bed again.

“Is it comfortable?”

“Yes, herdir.” The crisp sheets felt wonderful on his heated skin. “I...” Mablung licked his lips, then he whispered: “Thank you, herdir, for taking care of me.”

His Master blinked surprised when he gave him a quick kiss, then he smiled gently.

“You mean something to me, nethben”, he said and Mablung’s heart beat quicker. “Of course I take care of you.”

Yes, he could believe it. Not always, but his Master's current actions spoke clearly for him. He meant something to him. He wasn’t just a thing. He wished, he could say it back, but he didn’t dare.

“Try to sleep, nethben.”

His Master started to sing again, in Valarin this time, Mablung was too tired to try to understand it. He closed his eyes and fell asleep immediately, safe in his Master’s arms.
 

Melkor hadn’t left Mablung’s side for two days, worried  for him and fearing it might get worse. Each time the boy had apologised for being a burden or because he wasn’t able to serve him or because the fever had loosened his tongue, he had felt like his stupid heart might break. The panic in his eyes when he noticed that he’d taken the collar off... and on the second day – that had been his fault, he should have expected the boy’s reaction – when he had asked him if he’d feel better if someone else would tend to him.

‘I don’t want to be away from you, herdir, please. I know, I’m useless...’

Melkor had silenced him quickly, before he could continue that line of thought and had assured him that he wanted him here. It was true, he’d have cast any other slave out and wouldn’t have cared if it lived or died. But Mablung wasn’t just anyone, hadn’t been for a long time... Melkor shrank back from the thought, before he could continue that line of thought. He caressed the sleeping boy’s cheek and was relieved that it felt normal.

He wasn’t sure how long he had watched him sleep when the boy finally opened his eyes – clear and not shining with fever.

“How do you feel, nethben?”, Melkor asked and was rewarded with a little smile that made his stupid heart speed up.

“Better, herdir.” He sighed happily when Melkor rubbed his neck. “Herdir?”, he asked slowly, as if he weren’t sure if he still was allowed to.

“What is it, nethben?”

“Can I have the collar back now?”

Inwardly Melkor shook his head at the words. Was he allowed to wear something that showed even more clearly that he was Melkor’s property? But Mablung didn’t feel humiliated by so many things other slaves would.

“If you feel well enough?” He couldn’t deny that he loved to see his name around the boy’s neck.

“Yes, herdir, please.” The boy sounded so... happy when the lock clicked into place and Melkor gave him a long kiss that could have easily turned to more if he’d allowed it. Mablung made a protesting sound when he moved back.

“Sinthoras is going to skin me if I use you before he declares you healed”, Melkor said with a chuckle. And because he was sure that the boy had things like ‘useless’ and ‘paying back’ running around in his head, he added: “I’ll never give you away, nethben. I can wait a little longer before taking you again. You mean something to me.”

He didn’t know if he’d said it too often in the last few days, but Mablung had been so fragile. He wasn’t always just, he knew that. The boy should know that he cared.

“Thank you, herdir.” Mablung smiled back shyly before averting his eyes and Melkor embraced him tighter. No, he’d never let him go.

---

Chapter End Notes

Artano = Sauron
Sinthoras = Gothmog