#mairon: a work of unmatched beauty?

[winds-of-zephyr416]

The part of the Silm they don’t want you to know about: Melkor’s horrible, awful, no-good pickup lines.

[thyras]

I saw that you were accepting requests and I couldn't miss this opportunity. I follow your account and I really like your writing! I thought of something like Sauron and the reader have been together since Morgoth, but with Sauron's return and his contact with Galadriel, the reader begins to be uncertain about his feelings. So when she leaves Eregion late at night, Adar finds her and takes her to his camp days before Halbrand arrives. Adar could suspect that Sauron is Halbrand and tries to use his wife as bait. But you can obviously write however you like. English is not my language, so I apologize for any mistakes! :)

It is perfectly okay!

I had a hard time thinking where I wanted to go with this, but it came to me in a dream (hehe, divine intervention), and I really went from there, honestly. I took some parts of your request and kind of morphed them a little. I hope that is okay, but the bones are still there. So sorry this took so long, though. final exams and papers are in full swing and it's taking everything out of me.

→ luminary

PAIRING → sauron | mairon | halbrand x f!Maia!reader

WORD COUNT → 4.9k words

WARNINGS → soft!sauron, lies, obsessions, manipulation, etc.

SUMMARY → you have been with sauron since he was a servant of aulë, though now centuries later you have doubts. but with doubts come dangers not even a maia can be saved from.

AUTHORS NOTE → i tried a different style of writing this as I usually write in past tense so it's probably utter garbage and does not flow properly but hey i tried. reader does have a name that yavanna gave her when she was in her service, and is referred to a few times. but I do not reference anything that would take away from the reader's perspective.

In the days before the shadow fell over the world, before the Valar waged their war on the darkness and the light of the Two Trees was lost, you walked among the Maiar as one of Yavanna's most cherished. She called you Nelyanna, for your voice carried the essence of the Music of the Ainur, coaxing flowers from the earth and bidding forests to rise in splendor. Your song was the song of growing things, of roots and leaves that drank deeply of the light, and your heart burned fiercely for the beauty of Arda.

As a servant of Yavanna, you often found yourself in the halls of Aulë, her husband. Among the clamor of hammers and the blaze of forges, you first saw him: Mairon, golden and shining, whose mastery of craft and subtlety of thought stood unmatched. He was unlike any you had ever known. Where others toiled contentedly, he sought perfection, driven by a restless ambition that burned brighter than the forge-fire.

At first, you admired him from a distance, enchanted by the elegance of his work, the way his hands shaped metal into wonders. His voice, when he spoke, was a low and captivating murmur, like a storm on the horizon. But his mind held you, sharp and vivid, full of visions that reached far beyond the present. He spoke of perfecting the world's flaws, of reshaping Arda into something eternal.

You did not see the danger in his words nor the shadow that began to coil around him. How could you? Your heart was so full of faith in the light of creation that you believed in the goodness of all things. Slowly, you came to know him, and your presence seemed to soothe the storm within him. Together, you spoke of creation, life's wild and untamed beauty, and how it might be ordered into something more significant.

What began as fascination became something deeper. You felt it in every note of your song, a pull stronger than you could name. When he spoke, his gaze pierced through you like sunlight breaking through a forest canopy, warm and unwavering. In him, you saw not only his brilliance but a yearning that mirrored your own: a longing to create, understand, and belong.

But whispers of discontent began to ripple through the halls of the Valar. You noticed the change in him, how his light grew darker, his ambition sharper. He spoke of Morgoth, the fallen Vala who sought dominion over Arda, and his words carried a dangerous allure. Mairon did not see Morgoth as a tyrant but as a visionary, someone bold enough to challenge the flaws of Eru's design.

Others turned from him, their hearts heavy with fear and mistrust. Yet you could not. You had seen the light in him, the brilliance beneath the shadow, and you clung to the hope that it might prevail. He was your sun, and you, a flower bending toward his radiance.

When he made his choice—when Mairon turned to Morgoth and the dark halls of Angband—he came to you. His voice was soft, his words entreating, as he spoke of a new order, a world remade.

A power over the flesh.

He asked you to choose: to remain untouched and safe among the green fields of Yavanna or to follow him into the unknown.

Your heart wavered. Could you leave the forests, the meadows, the songs of life you had nurtured? But then you looked at him, at the fire in his eyes, and you could not turn away. You told yourself you might save him, that your light might temper his growing darkness.

And so you left. You turned from the green fields and walked into the shadow, following him. The air grew colder with every step, and the light dimmer. Yet you hoped, still you sang, and you believed, even as the weight of the dark pressed on your spirit.

In time, the world would remember Mairon by a name spoken in fear and hatred, but your story would fade like a forgotten note, lost to history. Still, somewhere deep inside you, even as the dark wrapped tighter around you, you would remember the sun and the green fields of your beginnings.

And you would wonder if the flower you had once been might ever bloom again.

The golden afternoon light bathed Eregion in a warm glow, and its white towers rose proudly against the mountains. The city thrummed with life, its forges alive with the fires of creation and the voices of Elves. You lingered at the city's edge, your gaze drifting to the distant horizon, where the mountains seemed to touch the sky. There, your thoughts often wandered, searching for answers to a question you dared not voice aloud.

You felt an unease deep within you, a faint pull like a thread tugging at your spirit. For weeks, you had sensed something shifting, something drawing nearer. It was not fear but anticipation, a quiet certainty that he was coming. You could not say how you knew, only that you did. Mairon. Sauron. Whatever guise he had taken, the thread that connected you had begun to hum once more.

The sound of horns at the gates startled you from your thoughts. You turned toward the commotion, your heart quickening. A flurry of hooves approached the gatehouse, the figures indistinct against the shimmering heat of the sun. As they approached, you saw an Elf clad in battle-worn armor leading the way, her golden hair catching the sunlight. She supported a figure as she helped them off the horse, his weight leaning heavily against her before guards moved to assist her. You felt the air shift even at a distance, and your breath caught.

It was him.

Your feet moved before your mind could catch up, carrying you toward the gates. Elves gathered, curious but cautious, as the group passed through the threshold. Galadriel—the Lady of Light herself, though you had never seen her before—moved to speak with Lord Celebrimbor and Elrond, though you could not hear what the three were saying. The coppery-haired man stumbled, barely able to stand, his tunic torn and stained with blood. You hesitated in the shadow of the crowd, your heart pounding.

Celebrimbor said something to the guards that was inaudible to you, but the guards moved to follow his orders, though you remained frozen. His face was obscured, turned away from you as they carried him into the forge, but you knew. You would always know. The air around him was heavy, resonating with the faintest trace of power—perhaps diminished but unmistakable. You stepped forward, your hands trembling as they disappeared behind the doors.

Galadriel turned her gaze to you briefly, her eyes sharp but puzzled. "Do you know him?" she asked, her voice curious but wary as you walked over to the group.

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. Finally, you shook your head. "No," you lied softly. "But I… I can help. If you'll allow it."

She studied you for a moment longer, then nodded. "Come, then."

You followed them into the chamber, your thoughts spinning. The room was quiet, the golden light of a single lantern casting long shadows on the walls. They laid him on a low bed, his breathing shallow but steady. Galadriel spoke briefly with the healers, her voice low and firm, before she turned back to you.

"Stay with him," she said, her tone gentler now. "He may wake disoriented. It is better if there is someone here."

You nodded, unable to meet her eyes. She lingered a moment longer, then left, her presence fading like a beam of light withdrawing from the room as she spoke with Elrond quietly outside the door's threshold. When they finally departed, you exhaled, the tension in your chest easing slightly.

You moved to his side, kneeling by the bed. His face was pale beneath the grime and blood, his features softer than you remembered. His manly face almost resembled the one you had met him with. Though with this face, stubble traveled across his chin and cheeks, and he held less of that glow he had. But it was still there, deep inside, and only for you to see.

The years—or perhaps the ages—had worn on him, stripping away the veneer of power he had once carried so effortlessly. And yet, even now, he was unmistakable. Your fingers hovered above his face, trembling as you brushed the damp coppery strand from his brow.

"You found your way back," you whispered, barely audible. "I always knew you would."

He stirred faintly, his head turning slightly toward you. His eyelids fluttered but did not open, his breathing hitching before settling again. You stayed where you were, your heart aching with the weight of centuries. The bond between you hummed faintly, a reminder of what had been, of the light you had seen in him even when all others saw only shadow.

The door creaked open behind you, and you turned to see one of the healers entering with fresh linens and salves. She looked at you briefly but said nothing, her gaze curious but kind. You rose and stepped back, allowing her to tend to him, though your eyes never left his face.

"Will he recover?" you asked quietly.

The healer nodded. "His injuries are severe, but he is strong. He will heal with time."

You nodded, relief and trepidation warring within you. As the healer worked, you moved to the corner of the room, where you could watch without drawing attention. When she left, promising to return later, you stepped forward again, your hand brushing against his. His skin was warm, his pulse steady beneath your fingertips.

For hours, you stayed by his side, unwilling to leave. The city beyond carried on as it always did, but for you, the world had narrowed to this room, to the fragile rise and fall of his chest. You did not know what he would say when he woke or if he would even remember you. But you had waited for this moment for centuries and would not falter now.

When his eyes finally opened, softly green like the pastures you used to tend in Aman and piercing even in their weakness, you felt your breath catch. His gaze found yours, and for a fleeting moment, recognition flickered there; even in the deepest of guises, he could tell it was you: his heart, his light in the darkness.

"Nelyanna," he rasped, his voice rough but unmistakable.

You smiled faintly, your hand tightening around his. "Yes," you said softly. "Nelyanna."

And though the shadow of his past loomed over you both, the thread that bound you felt whole again for the first time in ages.

The days after his arrival were a haze of whispered tension and unanswered questions. Mairon—no, Halbrand, as he called himself now—recovered swiftly under the care of the Elves, his wounds healing faster than they had any right to. He was different now, quieter, his once-burning ambition masked behind a veneer of humility. But you saw the familiar glint in his eyes when he spoke to Celebrimbor, the calculated precision in his words. He was a master of deception, as he had always been.

What unnerved you most, however, was the way his gaze lingered on Galadriel in those days that followed.

You told yourself it was nothing. After all, she had brought him to Eregion. It was only natural that he would be drawn to her—a powerful Elf whose light radiated an intensity few could match. But you knew him too well to ignore the subtle signs: the way his eyes followed her in the forge or courtyard and how his tone shifted when he spoke of her, tinged with something you could not name.

At first, you tried to dismiss your fears. You reminded yourself of the bond between you, the centuries you had waited for, the sacrifices you had made to follow him into shadow. But as the days passed, the unease in your heart grew. You began to see the pattern: how he subtly positioned himself to be near her and encouraged her trust. His words were carefully chosen, always flattering but never overt, weaving himself into her thoughts like a strand of her light.

One evening, as the city settled into twilight, you found him alone in the courtyard underneath one of the lone trees in the city. He was seated on a low stone bench, his face tilted toward the sky as though lost in thought. The sight of him, so seemingly serene, only deepened your resolve.

"You’re spending a great deal of time with her," you said, your voice soft but firm.

He turned at the sound of your voice, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, then gestured for you to sit beside him. You hesitated before complying, the tension between you as palpable as the golden light fading from the horizon.

"She interests me," he said finally, his tone even. "Her strength, clarity—It is rare to see such light untainted."

Your chest tightened. "And what do you intend to do with it?" you asked, trying to keep the tremor from your voice. "You and I both know you do not fixate on things without a reason."

He studied you, his green eyes sharp and piercing. "You think I have ill intent," he said, almost accusing.

"I think you have a purpose," you replied. "You always do."

He smiled faintly, a flicker of the charm that had once captivated you. "Perhaps I do," he admitted. "Galadriel’s light is—unique. It is a beacon, a force capable of uniting even the most divided hearts. It is a light this world sorely needs."

"And you think to wield it," you said, your voice laced with disbelief. "You would use her for our plans."

"I would heal Middle-earth," he said, his voice low but fervent. "Look around you, Nelyanna. This world is broken and fractured by conflict and mistrust. Galadriel has the power to inspire and lead. With her, we could bring order to the chaos."

His conviction sent a shiver down your spine. "She’s not a tool, Mairon," you said, using his true name deliberately and sharply. "She is not something for you to mold into our vision."

He flinched at the name but recovered quickly, his expression hardening. "And what would you have me do?" he asked, his tone bitter. "Stand idle while this world crumbles? I see a chance to make things right, to shape Arda into what it was always meant to be. Would you deny me that?"

"That’s not what this is about," you said, your voice rising. "This is about you. You can tell yourself it’s for Middle-earth, but I know you. This is your ambition, your obsession. And now you’ve turned it on her, seeking power when you already have such power by your side."

For a moment, heavy and unyielding silence hung between you. He looked at you, his eyes filled with anger and something deeper—raw, almost pleading.

"You think I don’t care for you," he said quietly. "That you’ve waited all this time for nothing."

Your throat tightened. "What I think is that you’ve forgotten what truly matters," you said. "You are so consumed by your need to control and shape that you cannot see the cost." Tears threatened to fall now. "My love, Mairon, it is the cost."

He reached for your hand, his grip firm but not unkind. "You matter to me," he said, his voice softer now. "You always have. But this—this is something greater. Something I cannot ignore."

You pulled your hand away, the distance between you feeling like an unbridgeable chasm. "If you go down this path, there may be no coming back," you said, your voice trembling. "You think you can use Galadriel’s light without corrupting it, but you’ve forgotten the shadow you carry. It will twist everything it touches, including her." You pause. “Look what it did to me.”

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you saw the flicker of the Sauron you had once known, the master of ambition and cunning. "You underestimate me," he said, his tone cold. "And her."

You rose to your feet, your heart heavy. "Perhaps I do," you said. "But I will not stand by and watch you lose yourself again. Not this time."

As you turned to leave, his voice stopped you. "You won’t leave me," he said, a note of desperation beneath his words. "You never have."

You paused your back to him, tears threatening to spill again. "Perhaps I should have," you whispered before walking into the growing shadows.

Behind you, the garden fell silent except for the faint rustle of leaves in the evening breeze. And as you left him there, you wondered if, this time, the thread that bound you might finally snap.

Eregion was quieter now, but it felt like a shadow had passed over the city, dimming its light. You walked through the streets, the familiar paths that had once comforted you, now stirring only heartache. His presence lingered here, like the echo of a melody you couldn’t forget, no matter how desperately you wanted to.

He had left. After revealing himself to Galadriel, after his ambitions had been laid bare, he had vanished as suddenly as he had come. His departure had been like a blade to your heart, not because you hadn’t expected it, but because it solidified what you had long feared: Mairon, the husband you had loved, was gone, replaced by Sauron’s consuming obsession with power and control.

You had stayed for a time, hoping he might return and seek you out, not as Sauron but as the man you once knew. But he hadn’t. And now you could no longer bear to remain. His shadow hung too heavy here, his presence a ghost you could not escape.

It was time to leave.

You stood on the outskirts of the city, where the wildflowers grew untamed. The soft hum of your song rose on the breeze, a farewell melody. You had sung this tune countless times over the ages, but now it carried a new weight, a finality you had never felt before. You knelt among the flowers, your fingers brushing their delicate petals as if saying goodbye to the life you had built here.

"I thought you might come to your senses," you whispered into the stillness, your voice breaking. "I thought you might remember who you were. Who we once were."

The breeze carried no reply, only the faint rustle of leaves. You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat. He wouldn’t come. He had made his choice, and you had made yours.

As the sun descended below the horizon, you rose to your feet and turned toward the road away from Eregion. You didn't have a clear destination in mind, only the need to leave. You couldn’t follow him anymore—not down his chosen path. His quest to dominate, to twist Middle-earth to his will, was one you could no longer justify, no matter how deeply you had once believed in that path.

But leaving wasn’t easy. Eregion had been a sanctuary where you had tried to find solace and clung to the last threads of hope for your husband’s redemption. Walking away felt like tearing a piece of your dark soul from your body, but you knew it was the only way forward. If you stayed, his shadow would consume you as it had consumed him, and you would fall into the same madness.

As you began to walk, the soft crunch of your footsteps on the dirt road filled the silence. Each step felt heavier than the last, but you pressed on. The road stretched before you, winding into the distance, and you didn’t look back.

You had just passed the last of Eregion’s outlying homes when a voice stopped you. It was warm and even. There was no hint of malicious intent, only the warmth you craved from him.

"You’re leaving."

You froze, your breath catching. Slowly, you turned, and there he was. He stood a short distance away, his shadowy figure watching you, the evening light casting his face in sharp relief. His eyes burned with the same fire you had always known, but now there was something else there—something raw, almost desperate.

"I am," you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging in your chest. "There’s nothing left for me here."

He took a step closer, his movements slow, measured. "You can’t mean that," he said, his tone quiet but firm. "We’ve been through too much—"

"You left," you interrupted, your voice rising. "You left, Mairon. You revealed yourself to Galadriel, exposed your plans, and vanished without a word. What did you expect me to do? Stay here, waiting for you to return so you can pull me into whatever scheme you’ve concocted next?"

He flinched at the sharpness of your words, but he didn’t look away. "You don’t understand," he said, his voice softening. "Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve worked for—it’s for us. For our redemption. I need power to achieve it. Galadriel—her light—she could have been—"

"Don’t," you said, cutting him off. "Don’t try to justify it to me. Not anymore."

You stepped closer to him, your hands trembling at your sides. "I loved you, Mairon," you said, your voice breaking. "I loved you so much that I followed you into shadow, believing in your vision, believing in you. But I can’t do it anymore. Not when your vision means a web of schemes that involve taking something you already have by your side. I was your light for ages, Mairon, but I guess your darkness dimmed me out too much."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue, might try to pull you back into his web of ambition. But then his shoulders sagged, and the fire in his eyes dimmed. "I never wanted to lose you," he said quietly.

"Then you shouldn’t have lost our vision," you replied, the words heavy with sorrow.

For a long moment, the two of you stood in silence, the space between you filled with all the things left unsaid. Finally, you turned away, the ache in your chest nearly unbearable.

"Goodbye, Mairon," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I hope one day you find what you’re looking for."

You didn’t wait for a response. You walked away, your steps resolute, even as tears blurred your vision. The road ahead was uncertain, but it was yours, unshadowed by his ambitions.

And though your heart ached with every step, you knew you had made the right choice. No matter how deeply intertwined, some paths were never meant to be walked together.

The woods outside Eregion were dense and quiet; the only sounds were the rustle of leaves in the evening breeze and the crunch of your boots on the dirt path. The road was lonely, stretching far into the wilderness, but the solitude was a balm to your frayed spirit. Every step away from Eregion, away from him, felt like tearing yourself apart, but it was a pain you had chosen. It was better this way.

Or so you told yourself.

The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the forest floor, when the attack came. It was silent at first—too silent. The birds stopped singing, the wind stilled, and an oppressive weight settled in the air. Your instincts screamed, and you reached for the dagger at your belt, but it was too late. The first blow came from behind, knocking you to the ground. Hands grabbed at you, rough and clawed, dragging you to your knees.

Orcs. At least a dozen of them, their blackened armor blending with the shadows of the trees. Their eyes glinted with cruel delight as they bound your hands and stripped you of your weapon. You struggled, but their strength was overwhelming, their snarling laughter mocking your defiance.

"Leave me," you hissed, your voice sharp despite the fear rising in your chest. "You’ve got no quarrel with me."

One of the orcs leaned close, its breath hot and foul. "It's not us you should be worried about," it sneered. "He’s waiting for you."

Before you could ask who, a burlap sack was pulled over your head, plunging you into darkness.

When the sack was removed, you found yourself in a clearing lit by the orange glow of a fire. Orcs milled about, their guttural voices and harsh laughter filling the air. The largest of them loomed nearby, sharpening crude blades, while others eyed you with suspicion or amusement. But it was the figure seated by the fire that drew your attention.

Adar.

He sat calmly, his face illuminated by the flickering flames. His features were sharp, almost elven, but twisted with a darkness that seemed to radiate from him. His eyes, cold and calculating, locked onto yours as the orcs shoved you forward, forcing you to kneel before him.

"So," he said, his voice smooth and low, "I see our paths have crossed again, my lady."

You glared at him, refusing to show fear. "If you mean to kill me, get on with it," you said, your voice steady despite the rapid beat of your heart.

Adar chuckled, a sound devoid of warmth. "Kill you? No. You are far more valuable alive."

He leaned forward, studying you as though you were a puzzle to be solved. "You carry the stench of him," he said, his lip curling. "Sauron. Mairon. Halbrand. Whatever name he uses now. You’ve been bound to him longer than I imagine, Nelyanna,”

You stiffened at his words, your fists clenching against the bindings. Adar smiles weakly at you as he knows he has broken your facade by calling you by who he knew you as. The fallen goddess, forever bound to her shadow. You had been there when he struck that blow; you had watched as he murdered the being you loved. Stood idly by as your beloved husband choked on his ambitions and his black blood.

Finally, you regained your voice and gazed into your captor's eyes. "I have nothing to do with him anymore," you said. “I left him. I want no part of his plans."

Adar’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. "You may think you’ve left him, but you don’t understand what you are to him, do you?" He rose to his feet, his presence commanding as he paced around you. "You are a thread in his tapestry, a piece of his grand design. Even now, I can feel his faint pull through you."

His words sent a chill down your spine, but you refused to let him see your fear, for Maiar were never supposed to fear anything less than them. "If you think you can use me to reach him, you’ll be disappointed," you said, your voice firm. "He doesn’t care about me anymore."

Adar stopped, his gaze piercing. "Oh, he cares," he said. "You are his weakness, his flaw. For all his cunning, for all his power, he cannot sever his connection to you. And that is why you are so important."

He crouched before you, his face inches from yours. "I will use you, yes," he said, his voice soft but deadly. "Not as a tool for his schemes, but as bait. He will come for you. He cannot resist. And when he does…" His eyes gleamed with malice. "I will end him. For good."

Your heart raced, your mind spinning with the implications of his words. Adar was no mere villain; he was driven by hatred, by a desire to see Sauron’s end at any cost. And now, you were caught in the middle of his web.

"You’re wrong," you said, though your voice wavered.

Adar’s smile was cold. "We shall see," he said. He rose, gesturing to the orcs. "Cage her. Ensure she is watched at all times. For she is just as deceitful as he is."

They grabbed you roughly, dragging you toward a crude iron cage at the edge of the camp. As the door slammed shut behind you, you sank to the ground, your thoughts racing. You had left Eregion to escape him, to free yourself from the shadow of his ambitions. And yet, here you were, once again, a pawn in the game that Sauron’s existence seemed to cast upon the world.

You stared out of the bars of your cage, the orcs sharpening their weapons and preparing for the battle that would ensue. And in the quiet of the night, you whispered a plea, not to the Valar nor the stars, but to the man you had once loved.

"Don’t come for me," you murmured, tears slipping down your cheeks. "Please, don’t."