It comes in Threes by cílil

Námo is the first to visit him, unsurprisingly — it's his halls Melkor is trapped in, after all.

He expects him to relay his brother's flimsy excuses or lecture him on laws and morals, but the Judge is silent. All he does is check on him and linger, as if he's quietly offering his companionship and wisdom.

Melkor meets his silence with his own, proud and stubborn. He cares little about whatever Námo has to offer, feeling cheated and betrayed by his own kin.

The law is meaningless to him, and fate can be changed.

He greets Námo with mocking smiles. 

Irmo appears even before his sorrowful sister does, and Melkor envies him for how easily he enters and exits his brother's halls, as if Námo's spells bend to his every will and whim.

And perhaps they do — Irmo has always been his one weakness.

To Melkor's surprise, he doesn't attempt to scold or preach; rather he seems curious and asks him questions.

The fallen Vala lies and evades some, of course, but he deigns to engage Irmo in conversation.

"Why do you ask?" he inquires nevertheless, and the Fëantur smiles mildly.

"I want to understand, and I know I can."
 

Nienna visits him last, and as predictable and inevitable as it seems to him, Melkor finds that he harbours no ill will towards her.

She is perhaps the only one he cares to see, and this time he is the one to speak first.

"How is it that you still defend me," he wonders, "even though everyone is of the opinion that I am the cause of every single tear you shed?"

"Because you too deserve compassion, and I was never angry with you," Nienna answers.  "For I know well that, to cause such hurt, you yourself must be hurting.”

Eönwë had been fearing the ever-creeping touch of corruption for his entire life.

His lord, in his wisdom and kindness, attempted to teach him how to stay in the One's good graces.

First were the virtues.

Faith in the Allfather must be absolute. Only He possesses supreme power and authority, and no matter which ranks and prestige we hold, we all serve and bow to Him.

Charity is what the Ainur were made for. We create for others, not for our own vain glory. We provide for others, never take for ourselves. We were made to not need what should belong to the Children.

Hope must never be lost. We must never falter in our purpose and see to the completion of the designs of the One above all else, be it our own ambition or despair. He taught us that even from great evil good may, through His grace and mercy, eventually come.

Eönwë wanted nothing more than to do exactly as Manwë had advised, but he had secret doubts. If his true purpose was battle, as he felt deep down, then how was he to serve a kingdom of peace? Was it cruel of his creator to shape him as a warrior only to ask him to deny his nature?

Good thoughts, good words, good deeds. Such was another advice Eönwë had been given when he had asked for direction, and he clung to it like a lifeline. If he couldn't be a perfect, maybe he could at least be decent.

In Valinor, it was easy. In Middle-earth, land of war and death, it was not. Even in the heat of battle, protecting himself and others, Eönwë wondered if killing could ever be good.

He had to, in the end. But the guilt and grief never left him. 

The first time Mairon acquires a lover, it is purely by happenstance.

It is Arien who seeks him out, who comes to him when he is by himself and makes the effort to get to know him.

He is the only fire spirit left beside her, and she desperately craves a companion who understands her, Mairon knows. But he too grows fond of her — her grace, her pride, her temper, her nature that is so similar to his own.

And it's a comfortable position to be in, to be sought after by one of Almaren's most admired and desirable Maiar.

Eönwë has been watching them, both him and Arien. Mairon has long since seen his longing glances and observed his attempts to be near either of them, visiting Vána's meadows and Aulë's forges to talk to them under some pretence.

His attention, too, is flattering, much like Arien's, as he's the chief of the Maiar and renowned for his strength in battle.

Arien thinks of him as a cute little toy. Mairon agrees. They decide together that they want him.

Eönwë is overjoyed when they embrace him, having expected rejection; yet now he's a part of the love he desired. 

Melkor has little consideration for Mairon's Maiarin lovers and thinks himself the victor of any competition before it has even begun.

At first Mairon is irate and rejects him, but later he begrudgingly sees a strange wisdom in his stance. For would he not be a fool to trade a Vala for a few Maiar, lovers he so easily acquired no less?

To become Melkor's would be effortless, Mairon thinks, but to claim him on his own terms would be a challenge.

The willful Vala has his own plans, but in his hubris, he wants him for his collection still. 

Chapter End Notes

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