The Sundelions of Arien by cílil

---

On the meadows of Vána

---

"Arien."

The sound of Mairon's voice is pleasant as always, and she listens before she knows it, ignoring the dread and anger welling up within her chest. Many times has Arien imagined what it will be like when he finally  decides to show his face again, how she will confront him for his betrayal, how she will be wiser and not let him fool her ever again.

She doesn't have to look at him. She knows he's standing there, smiling as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn't broken her heart.

And she knows that these days he only comes to see her if he wants something.

Arien has no patience for it.

"What do you want?" she asks as coldly as she can and refuses to face him. Stubbornly, she keeps her gaze on the black and golden flowers she's tending to for her lady, the miraculous Sundelions that can produce the only known cure to the Void's Gloom; and suddenly she has an idea why her former lover chose to appear in a domain where he's not welcome.

The fact that Mairon was able to reach her without being seen or detected worries her, though less for her sake and more for the Maiar of Vána and Yavanna who cannot match his fell fire.

He has taken a step closer, and Arien feels an uncomfortable heat surging through her veins. Is it his gaze on her that she feels, she wonders, or is he already looking at his prize.

She caresses the Sundelions' fragile petals as if in reassurance, and she knows his eyes follow her movements.

"Look at me."

Mairon's request, uttered softly and without the edge of command that so often accompanies his speech, startles Arien so much that she does. She sees the same face she knew many years ago, yet marred by a blackened wound across his left cheek, as if struck by a poisoned blade. Similar wounds are on his neck, chest, arms and hands, and pity overcomes her before she knows it.

"What happened to you?" she gasps and rushes to his side. "Did the Dark One...?"

For a moment Arien hopes that he will answer yes. If it was Melkor who hurt him, maybe he would finally see the error of his ways and come back to her. But as quickly as that thought has crossed her mind, she begins to abhor it. She knows well how dangerous the Dark Vala can be and doesn't want her fiery kin, fallen as they all may be, to face the wrath of his freezing storm.

"No. I was hurt while fighting monsters from the Void; with his help, if I may add," Mairon says, holding up his hands and looking at his damaged palms.

Arien takes his hands into hers. He remains eerily calm and composed, and the lack of any wincing or flinching makes her hope he isn't in too much pain.

"Are you sure this is what happened?" she asks gently. "Are you sure you are not blaming something else to cover for him?"

"He hasn't hurt me and would never do so. It is as I said."

There is no anger in Mairon's voice, but his tone is firm. Arien isn't sure if she should admire his conviction or think him a fool for trusting and defending Melkor.

And even if he didn't hurt him himself, he let him get hurt, she thinks, nodding to herself as if to reassure her conscience that the Dark Vala is indeed to blame for this mishap as well.

Gingerly, she examines his wounds and finds that Mairon hasn't lied to her. Injuries from Void creatures have unfortunately become more common in recent times, prompting her lady Estë to instruct her Maiar accordingly and request a steady supply of Sundelions. The pervasive decay infesting their once thought unbreakable weapons must cause him as much ire and stress as his former lord Aulë, she muses.

"You want me to heal you," she says. It's not a question; she is certain that she knows the reason for his visit now. At least he was wise enough to come alone and not bring his miserable master with him.

"Ah, you don't have to." Mairon looks up at her, an amicable smile on his lips. "A few of these lovely flowers would already suffice. I can handle the rest myself; after all it would be rude of me to ask for too much from you."

His words seem fair, his voice is smooth. It's all so perfectly easy and reasonable that Arien pauses, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. Why would he not take the freely given help of a Maia serving both Vána and Estë, he who has never been a healer.

Unless... There is a reason why he wants to take the flowers himself.

"Is your lord hurt as well?" Arien asks sharply.

There is a flash of something unreadable in Mairon's eyes, gone before she can see it for what it is.

"Of course not, why do you ask?" He laughs lightly. Too calm, too serene. It doesn't ease Arien's worries in the slightest. "You would not feel very inclined to help him if it were the case, no?"

"Are you lying to me because it is in fact the case and you want to use my compassion for you to take my flowers so you can help him?"

At last mild annoyance clouds Mairon's fair features, and the ancient familiarity of seeing him thus makes it strangely comforting. Endearing even. Yet Arien keeps her guard up while trying to glimpse past his.

"You have seen for yourself that I am wounded as I told you," he says. The corners of his mouth quirk upwards again as if to regain his smile, but it's more akin to a haughty smirk this time.

Arien finds a strange sort of pleasure in breaking through Mairon's barriers and ripping off his carefully crafted masks, even if what she finds is less fair than the faces she remembers.

"It is not like I fail to understand the thought," he continues, "deny me in order to deny Melkor, just in case. That is certainly something he would think to do to spite former lovers as well."

Her own control slips, her hands sizzling against his as her fána heats up. To imply that she would stoop to Melkor's level — and yet, even though Arien knows full well the intent behind such a well-placed comment, she cannot deny that Mairon has a point.

"We wouldn't have that problem if you just agreed to let me heal you instead," she snaps.

"Perhaps, though I did tell you why I didn't feel it was appropriate of me to ask for that." Mairon has regained his calm, controlled composure with infuriating professionalism.

It's not the first time that Arien has wondered if speaking to her is some sort of task or game for him that he completes with the same excellence as his other work.

"You are going to come with me," she orders, still fuming. "We will go to my house and I will heal you properly and you will stay as long as it takes."

"If that is your wish, I shall."

Mairon's smile is as bright as Arien's fury. She lets go of his hands and links their arms; he knows the way to her house, yet she feels the need to hold on to him lest he slip away too soon. At least his wounds will make him stay with her for a while, even if his powers and strange new magic seems to be mostly unscathed and only his fána is damaged.

There is a strange sort of triumph in taking her wayward former lover home. She even begins to enjoy herself once she takes a few Sundelions to brew a healing potion, applying it to every inch of blackened skin and adding a few spoons to a bowl of hot soup that she feeds him.

Thus absorbed in this brief moment of reconciliation with the Maia she once wished to spend eternity with, Arien remains blissfully unaware of the shadow that comes over her meadows at night, cruelly rips out a handful of her beloved flowers and disappears with his prey. 

---

Chapter End Notes

In Zelda TotK, Sundelions are a plant ingredient used to cook healing items that can restore damaged caused by Gloom, an evil and harmful substance that essentially drains the life of its victims. It causes decay in weapons and permanently reduces Link's health, making him unable to heal himself fully until he can get rid of the Gloom damage. I felt like Void and Void creatures like Ungoliant would be an excellent fit for Gloom and Gloom-affected monsters, as well as Arien as a servant of Vána and Estë growing and maintaining Sundelions.