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hailturinturambar · 6 days ago

Text

Hungry Idolatry.

Pairing: Melkor/Morgoth x Nienna

Word count: 6.861

Author's Notes: English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes or confusion. That was a lot of emotion in the last chapter, wasn't it? Well, you can consider this the calm before the storm, because things are going to get weird soon in Middle-earth. But hey, aren't we all eager to know more about the baby?

Warnings: Anguish. Toxic relationship. Illness, or whatever. Sauron being a weirdo. Manipulation.

Summary: The Dark Lord is getting closer to achieving his goals, but enemies gather in the shadows, and Melkor must return to Angband. But he cannot allow Nienna to be away from him, not now that she is carrying his child. However, Sauron's return to the Dark Lord's fortress is fraught with bad omens, and not even Nienna will be safe from him.

PART XI -> SERIES MASTERLIST

Taniquetil, it was called, the Great Holy Mountain, too. The highest point in all of Arda, where no secret could be hidden from the King of Arda, Manwë. As the King, he stood at the top of the world, watchful but protective as well.

Beneath the clouds of Taniquetil, Manwë was closest to the Creator, to Eru, and he alone knew intimately the heart of Ilúvatar. All the fears, all the worries and concerns of the Valar were carried in Taniquetil, and Manwë with his wisdom took counsel with Eru.

Yet, even the mountain of Manwë knew the power of the Dark Lord's malice, and the Shadow lay heavy upon Valinor. For after the Three Ages of Melkor's captivity, the Dark Lord begged Manwë for forgiveness and promised to purify all that he had destroyed, if only he could be present in a small part of Valinor.

And Manwë, grieved at his brother's suffering and imprisonment, allowed Melkor to live under the watchful eye of the Valar in Valinor. Melkor, cunning and cruel, won his younger brother's trust again, and Manwë kept Melkor close to him.

Furthermore, the Elves considered Melkor the most beautiful of all the Valar, and were eager to learn from him. The Noldor, desirous of wisdom and learning, sought out Melkor, and the Dark Vala deceived the Elves with kind words and friendship.

However, not all were pleased with Melkor's presence in Valinor. Tulkas and Ulmo were determined that Melkor's imprisonment would not end. And though Mandos did not trust Melkor, his Halls were meant to heal and forgive, not to hold captives.

The Valar could only watch as Melkor walked freely through the Undying Lands, bestowing kindness and promises upon the Elves, trapping them all under the Shadow of his malice and cruelty. Not all, however, trusted Melkor among the Elves, and they kept their minds and hearts closed to him.

But Manwë kept his mind open, as did the doors of Taniquetil, insisting that Melkor be at his side. So that Melkor might understand that he was no outcast, no stranger, but part of the Song, part of Valinor and the plans of Eru.

Melkor cared little for Manwë's words, for his younger brother's desperate attempts to find the light, so that he could be saved. There was no salvation, not for Melkor. He was beyond that. It was too late for one like him.

Manwë, thought Melkor, was a hopeful fool, so easily deceived, so easily influenced. But Melkor was not complaining, not even remotely. He was willing to accept his brother's kindness and welcome, until he had what he desired.

And in Taniquetil, Manwë stood beside Melkor, watching the Great Eagles soaring over the Blessed Realm. The Elves sang in harmony, and the Valar enjoyed the peace that was being granted to them.

To Melkor, the sight was repulsive, distasteful. The happiness of Valinor tainted Melkor's spirit, consuming his mind until nothing remained but shadows and anguish. Rage and vengeance.

Because Melkor would not forget, he would never forget when the Valar defeated him, when they humiliated him. As if he did not matter, as if he was not worthy or deserving of a throne. As if he was not worthy to be at the top of the world, on Taniquetil, like Manwë.

The brightness of the Two Trees of Valinor cast a light so powerful, so divine and majestic in the Undying Lands, that for a brief moment, Melkor could truly appreciate the sight. For Melkor was made of darkness, of emptiness, and he desired the light more than anything.

But Manwë's hand was raised, lightly touching an eagle that flew near the brothers. The magic, the fascination, slipped through Melkor's fingers and fury once more consumed the spirit of the Dark Vala.

In the distance, the Elven song caught Melkor's attention. Oh, yes, the most despicable family in Valinor was gathered together in complete peace and happiness, or as much as it was possible for the House of Fëanor to achieve. And Melkor despised Fëanor, who distrusted the Vala and ordered him to stay away from his lands.

The childish and excited screams enveloped the Elf's presence and Melkor, incapable of feeling love, happiness, or even passion, was disgusted. Because Fëanor, always so taciturn and wicked, seemed radiant, even at peace, surrounded by his children and wife.

“They are formidable creatures,” Manwë said, looking fondly at the Elves.

“Formidable?” Melkor sneered, looking closely at Manwë. “Elves, mere servants, who take ages to become strong and powerful.”

“I fear you are looking at it from the wrong side, brother,” Manwë said, smiling slightly.

Because it was impressive to the King of Arda, that Melkor, who considered himself the most powerful of all the Valar, of all the beings of Arda, was so revolted by the birth and growth of the Elves, of the Firstborn.

Melkor, Manwë thought, did not understand the true mystery, the true beauty of life. Because he could not create, not as the creator, because he did not have The Flame, The Secret Fire. And Melkor did not even try to create beautiful things alongside the other Valar.

The confusion, along with the fury and contempt that marked Melkor's face, amused Manwë. The younger man touched Melkor's shoulder, who glared at his brother, moving away enough for Manwë's hand to fall.

“Tell me, brother, what is the point of all this?” Melkor asked. “To waste years, to expend part of your essence and power, to bind your Fana, only to beget other beings?”

“No other beings, Melkor.” Manwë said, picking up the abandoned hand as he looked one last time at the Elves. “To form a family, to have children.”

Melkor laughed, and the younger looked at Melkor annoyed. Manwë did not understand how it could be so difficult for Melkor to understand that love, that union, were all that mattered, and that children were a gift, a blessing, and not a prison. Not a punishment.

“Children, yes,” Melkor said, smiling wickedly. “Lesser beings who suck the life out of you. And the fool has seven.”

Truly, the Elves were numerous in Arda, in Valinor. Even though many remained in Middle-earth, many Elves went to Valinor and the children of the Elves were beautiful and graceful. And the Valar loved them dearly.

Yet, where the Valar saw beauty, life, Melkor saw only loss, ruin. Children, Melkor thought, were nothing more than future enemies. Powerful beings, part of you, who might one day betray their creators. Melkor did not want such a creation.

“No, brother,” Manwë murmured, without moving away from Melkor. “It is not a punishment to have children, but a chance to know true creation. To generate through unconditional love.”

“We have very different views.”

Melkor turned his back on Manwë, unable to bear to watch the Elves happy any longer, as if nothing in Valinor could touch them, as if pain and suffering were far away. The Elves of Valinor had no words for death. But Melkor would teach them.

“Would it really be so bad?” Manwë whispered uncertainly.

“What?” Melkor’s icy tone bothered his brother, who noticed the warning in Vala’s voice.

“Have children.” He said. “Who knows, Melkor, even you may find beauty in the creation of life, through love, and it gives no pain.”

“I would rather be cast into the Void,” Melkor said, turning one last time so that his burning gaze could reach his brother. “Before I give up part of my power for a child.”

Manwë, though he had tried, could not reach Melkor, could not stop Melkor from letting the darkness continue to enter his heart, until he knew nothing but anger and malice. Evil and violence.

However, even if Manwë did not consider Melkor's creations as children, that was what the Elves called them: Melkorohíni, the Children of Melkor, the terrible Orcs. But, even though they were creatures forged by the dark hand of Melkor, by his power and darkness, the Orcs were never truly children.

Not Melkor's, at least, because like the Elves, the Orcs had life and multiplied throughout Middle-earth. Throughout all the dark and fearful corners of Arda. And for many ages, only the Orcs and the creatures of shadow occupied Melkor's mind.

But Eru, where the Valar could not reach him, beyond prayers, cared for all beings in Arda and granted the gift of creating life to each of them. It was not the life Melkor desired, however. For true creation demands sacrifice.

And Melkor shared his power with his creations, with all the beasts and creatures he had forged and shaped in Angband. True life required a higher, more dangerous price. A price Melkor was not willing to pay.

Until now, though. Because Melkor was so fascinated, so obsessed with Nienna, that he had begged her to have a child with him. For her to be his forever, so that no Valar would be able to separate Nienna from him.

Deep down, Melkor knew it was too risky, too dangerous. As King of Angband, King of the World, Melkor's enemies were numerous, and a child was too risky for a king. Melkor's enemies, however, already knew about the Dark Lord's wife, whom he deeply desired.

A child would not be easy to hide, much less from the Valar. For even if Eru had given his children the gift of life, creating life was costly, too delicate. Men, thought Melkor, were too fragile and ephemeral for their creations to be truly valuable.

It was different, however, with the Valarindi. The Children of the Valar, they were called, and they were as beautiful as they were rare. Divinity and youth shone in their spirits, and to look upon a Valarindi was to love them, so precious were they to the Valar.

Melkor doubted that the Valar would be delighted with a child of his own, even if he were a Valarindi. But the Valar could not touch Nienna without provoking Melkor's wrath, and they knew it. As far as Melkor knew, Mandos and Irmo would not allow Nienna to be harmed, even if she were bearing the Dark Lord's child.

Honestly, Melkor had been wiser than foolish in choosing to have a child. Because the Valar and Elves were not like Men, children were too delicate among them, too valuable to be harmed lightly. And whether out of kindness or teaching, Eru had chosen that creating a life would be a long process.

Even in Valinor years would pass before one of the Valarindi was born. Years in which the Valar would keep watch, yes, but they would not put life within Nienna at risk, Melkor was sure of that, deep down.

For Nienna, however, the stakes were higher. For Eru was kind and just, but he was also profoundly wise. And only through sacrifice did the Children of Ilúvatar conceive life. But much was demanded in return, and vulnerable they became.

And Melkor would not allow Nienna to be far from him, far from his protection. For in Valinor, Mandos could care for Nienna, but Melkor knew that he would never allow her to return to him. Melkor, too, did not trust that the Valar would not try to stop Nienna from keeping the life alive within her.

So, Melkor kept Nienna close, not allowing her to leave, not allowing her to be far from him. Not even Olórin, Melkor thought, could be near Nienna. She was his wife, and Melkor would not let her be taken away from him, no matter how much he needed to destroy his enemies, theirs.

Even though Melkor would not admit it, because he would never admit it, for the first time in his long, eternal life, he was afraid. Because Nienna was divine like him, powerful like him, and even though he could keep her safe, he feared losing her.

The Valar lived in peace with their children in Valinor, far from the evil of Middle-earth, far from the cruelty of Melkor. However, when it came to Melkor, things were less certain, less secure. Because Melkor was too corrupted for his cruelty not to affect Nienna.

And though Melkor pretended not to notice the difference, though he murdered anyone who posed the slightest risk to Nienna, even the Dark Lord could see that she was suffering.

Indeed she was, but she should not have been. For Eru did not wish his Children to suffer in having children of their own. Yet, Melkor's evil, his corruption, was harmful even to Nienna. So, keeping a mask, denying any concern, Melkor kept Nienna by his side.

To Angband he took her, so that she would be safe, so that he could keep his enemies away from her. For Melkor did not trust his own servants. And most of all, he did not trust Adar, who seemed so attached to Nienna, always so close, always so kind, to his wife.

Melkor had promised to stay by Nienna's side, and even though it was unlikely he would keep any promise, he remained by her side. But Nienna was frightened, not that she would admit it to him.

Because she feared that the Valar might turn her away from Melkor, that they might judge a child of Melkor to be an abomination, a risk to Arda. And Nienna knew that part of her fëa, of Melkor's fëa, would suffer in choosing to have a child, but she was ready to take that risk.

But Angband was too quiet, too wicked. With orcs and wolves and dragons roaming free. This was their realm, after all, the realm of All Fallen. The one place in all of Arda where Melkor's followers were free to be truly wicked. And Nienna was there, surrounded by them.

Nienna could not remember the last time she had seen Adar, no doubt Melkor was keeping the Uruk away from Nienna. And indeed, he was. Because before returning to Angband with Melkor, Nienna had spent some time alone in Angnaire.

However, she did not know what Melkor had done while he was away. She did not know that Melkor had tortured Adar, that he had spent weeks teaching the Uruk that he should keep distance from Nienna, that whenever he was with her, that if he so much as touched her, he would feel pain like he had never felt before.

New marks, deep, wide, raw, covered half of Adar’s face. A reminder of what would happen if he stayed near Nienna, if his thoughts were nothing but devotion to the Queen of Arda.

Alone in Angband, surrounded by nothing but monsters, Nienna did not know how much Adar's kindness, how much his concern for her, had cost him. And Melkor was content to keep Nienna away from Adar, away from the horrors that Uruk had suffered at Melkor's hands.

Because Melkor had other concerns, of course. The Elves had been talking for weeks about Beren and Lúthien’s attack on Angband, and their success in recovering one of the Silmarils, and hope had filled the Firstborn. For, they now understood, not even Melkor was indestructible. Not even the Dark Lord would be powerful forever.

And rumors reached Angband of the new union among the Elves, of the return of the Sons of Fëanor, and how they were seeking allies throughout Middle-earth. For the aid of any who were willing to stand against the Dark Lord. However, many years would pass before the Elves were able to lay siege to Angband.

But Melkor would prepare himself, he would be ready for the enemies. Ready to defeat each and every one of them. Melkor ordered the Orcs to go to Tol-in-Gaurhoth and return with Sauron. Much time had passed since Sauron had been attacked by Huan, but he was still not completely healed.

For weeks Sauron had been hiding in Taur-nu-Fuin, a desolate and dark forest where Melkor's evil was so great that even the air had been corrupted by his malice. No Elf, Dwarf or Man entered the forest without fearing the dangers that lurked there.

Because after being defeated, Sauron fled like a vampire and remained there, consumed by rage, by anger. Because all Sauron could feel was rage for the Elves, for the Valar. For all those who tried to corrupt his healing, who tried to stop Melkor from redefining Arda.

And Sauron still thought of the horrors of that battle, when Thuringwethil had been slain in cold blood by the Hound of Valinor, when Lúthien had torn her body apart, stealing her wings as if she did not matter. As if they did not matter.

As if they could be cast aside and tortured because they were not good or pure like the beloved Elves. But, Sauron thought, all would be different, in time. No matter how long it took, he would take revenge on all the free peoples of Middle-earth who stood against him, against Melkor.

And when the Orcs came to Taur-nu-Fuin, finding all the victims, seeing all the horrors that Sauron had committed, they ordered him to return to Angband. But Sauron was pleased to return, indeed, he was.

Because only he could make Melkor wake up from that madness. Because it was madness, was not it? It was risky, no doubt, for all of them that Melkor remained by Nienna's side, married to her. Choosing the one who was so faithful to the Valar.

Choosing to be vulnerable around her, concerned with keeping her close, as if he did not have all of Middle-earth before him. As if, Sauron thought, ruling Arda was no longer so important with Nienna at his side.

But, Sauron would not think, not anymore, at least. Because he would find Melkor, and beg for forgiveness, for having failed, for having failed the King of Arda. Yet, not even Sauron could pretend that that night had not affected him, more than anyone else.

Because Melkor may have been humiliated, he may even have lost one of the Silmarils, but not even Melkor felt, witnessed, the horrors that only Sauron, and he alone witnessed.

So he returned with the Orcs, letting the blood of their victims stain his lips as a reminder of what happened to those who defied him, who defied the King of Angband. But Sauron could never have expected that any peace or comfort awaited him in Angband.

For Sauron saw that everything had changed. Not because the Guardian of the Iron Gate had been murdered by the damned mortal, Beren, or because Melkor was furious, stripped of his precious Silmaril. No, it was none of those things. Sauron noticed it at once.

It was something different, stronger, almost tasteful, the presence in the air. Even though he did not know, deep down, what it was. That different air that seemed to envelop Angband. But Sauron noticed the Orcs before the gate, arrayed in defensive position, protecting the fortress.

It was curious, Sauron thought, how Melkor was so determined to hold Angband, only after the loss of one of the Silmarils. But what really worried him? Sauron wondered, for he knew Melkor's power. The fear that enemies felt at the mere mention of his name.

So why now? This doubt was gnawing at Sauron's chest, the doubt, sapping his thoughts. Sauron hated, more than anything, the feeling that control was slipping through his fingers. That something, unbeknownst to him, was happening.

But the Orcs did not answer Sauron's questions, not even when he threatened to murder every one of them before they could return to the Shadow of Melkor. They only looked at Sauron, still very vulnerable, with bloodstained lips, and simply smiled.

No, they did not smile. They laughed. Delighted, they were, at Sauron's secret being kept. For Sauron's behavior in Angband had always interested the Orcs. Sauron could not keep calm, not when he felt something crucial was being taken from him.

And deep down, Sauron was worried. Because when he entered the fortress, Adar was not there. Adar, despite everything that had happened between them, what always happened between them, had waited for Sauron to return, every time. But not now.

Sauron could not explain it, but the change was there. The sweet air, in the midst of the cold and wicked fortress, contaminated all the malevolence that existed there. Sauron scared the Orcs away, asking only where Melkor was. And Sauron hoped that she was not with him.

But it was far worse than he had expected, was not it? For Sauron had walked silently through the dark and icy halls of Angband, amused as the Orcs had shunned him and the shadow of fury and wrath that tainted his spirit, and yet he had not found Melkor.

Then, to Sauron's great dismay, he could hear her voice. From a distance, yes, but it was enough to turn Sauron's stomach. He simply could not stand being in her presence anymore, and nothing he did seemed to be enough. It was never enough.

Sauron had indeed known when he had given Nienna the drink during the All Fallens' Eve, that she would not actually be poisoned. How could she? She was one of the Ainur, practically indestructible by Sauron's side; her mind, too, was completely closed to him, and he could not attack her body.

He could not actually attempt to physically harm Nienna, of course, without Melkor noticing. Sauron had no wish to provoke Melkor's anger, or to further the growing rift between them. Sauron smiled slightly, thinking how ironic it was that of all the Valar, Melkor seemed so determined to be faithful to Nienna. As if the customs of the Ainur even mattered to him.

But to Sauron's surprise, or discomfort, Nienna had not told him that Sauron had tried to poison her. Honestly, Sauron had expected this, because he knew Nienna was too good, too merciful, to confess to Melkor what Sauron had done. She might love Melkor, but she knew he was cruel when he wanted to be.

And unbeknownst to Nienna, she had given the greatest and most dangerous weapon in all of Arda to Sauron. Forgiveness, Sauron thought, smiling as he pushed open the doors to the throne room, would yet be Nienna's undoing.

Or, to him. Because the scene Sauron witnessed was too disgusting, too cruel, for him to think of anything other than tearing Nienna apart, until there was nothing left of her, until she ceased to exist and Arda was free of her presence. Forever.

On the dark and majestic throne, Melkor sat, his arms around Nienna's waist, while her arms were so tightly around Melkor's neck, in such a loving embrace, that Sauron suspected that a mortal would not be strong enough to separate the two lovers.

But that was not what bothered Sauron, no. Not even close. Sexual desire, Yermë, as the Elves called it, was not a taboo in Angband, much less for Sauron. And, even though Sauron despised Nienna for being so affectionate, so close to Melkor, that was not the biggest problem.

Worst of all, thought Sauron, was how passionately, possessively, desperately, Melkor was kissing Nienna. As if he were completely consumed by her spirit, by her essence, as if he were incapable of being away from her. As if he never wanted to be away from her again.

It was not just sexual desire, Sauron realized, but Melkor was completely in love with Nienna. For it is a devouring, possessive, wicked love. And Melkor's love might, in time, devour all that is Nienna, until his idolatrous hunger destroys her, but it was love.

And Sauron, watching Nienna, so consumed by Melkor's kiss, as if beasts and creatures did not surround Melkor's throne, as if Melkor's cruelty did not make Angband colder, seemed to care. For she kissed him like a wife completely in love, too.

Rarely had Sauron seen Nienna without her veil, but here she was, comfortable in Melkor's arms, without any veil. And Sauron doubted that Melkor, ever watchful, ever vigilant, did not know that he was there before them.

Oh, because Melkor knew, he just did not care. Because Sauron's obsession got in the way of Melkor's feelings for Nienna, always whispering in his master's ear about how dangerous it was to be with one of the Valar. Not that Melkor cared, not enough to send Nienna away, that was for sure.

Whether by the kindness of fate, or by the cruelty of Eru, an Orc approached Sauron, informing him that the Elves were gathering throughout Middle-earth, in secret. Sauron smiled, satisfied, when Melkor practically growled against Nienna's lips, pushing her away enough so that he could glare with fury and anger at the Orc, who was quick to run from the throne room.

“Master.” Sauron said, giving a small bow.

As Nienna smiled one last time at Melkor, Sauron watched as he carefully caressed her face. Sauron stared intently at Nienna as she finally looked up at him, rising from Melkor's lap.

For a second, Sauron stood frozen, in disbelief at what was being thrown practically at his wounded face. Then, Sauron thought, this was why a shadow hung over Angband. But not a shadow of malice, a shadow of life. Yes, a shadow worse than the shadows in the caves of Ungoliant.

It was almost imperceptible, to a mortal, perhaps even to an Elf. But not to Sauron, not to him, unfortunately. Because Sauron could also feel the different essence that surrounded Nienna, and it was terribly sickening.

No, it was not her essence, or else Melkor would not have kept his hands off her even with the Orc present, no matter how jealous and possessive he was of her. Because the essence was so sweet, that if Sauron were a mortal, he would be sick of it. But, it was something irresistible too.

It was almost too hard to keep his distance, and to Sauron's fury, it was almost comforting to be near Nienna now. But he kept his thoughts away, staring furiously at her small belly, hidden by the black dress she wore, so like Melkor's robes. Disgusting, he thought.

Melkor, however, glared at Sauron with indescribable fury, blaming him for everything that had happened. But it was more than that. Sauron did not need Melkor to bark orders into his mind for him to understand what Melkor wanted. What he expected of him.

“My Queen.” Sauron said, trying not to grit his teeth.

The poison was there, hidden in his bloodstained lips, but Nienna did not seem to notice, for she looked at him mournfully. For why, he did not understand. Until Nienna left Melkor's presence, who kept his watchful eye on her, and walked towards Sauron.

Was this how Olórin felt, Sauron wondered, when Nienna looked at him so kindly, with tears streaming down her face? But there was something different, Sauron noticed. Nienna, Sauron thought, looked strangely weary, something unusual among the Valar, he knew.

It was Melkor, Sauron soon knew. His blood, indeed, tainting Nienna's insides, rejected by her Fana, even though she wanted the child. Melkor's malice warred with Nienna's mercy, and Sauron was eager to see how much she could endure before she had to return to Valinor.

For the Fëanturi, her beloved and protective brothers, who would never calmly accept that she carried Melkor's child. Despite everything, Nienna seemed, at least to Sauron, satisfied, content, even.

Melkor's motives, however, were still mysterious to Sauron, for ósanwe was common among the Valar, but the Elves could still communicate mentally with those willing to leave the door open for them. And since Nienna's arrival, Melkor's door had been closed to Sauron.

“Sauron,” Nienna said, stopping beside him, not caring that he watched with malicious interest at her tears.

What misfortunes did she have to cry about? Sauron thought, uncomfortable and surprised when her hand gently touched his face, without Melkor taking his eyes off her, possessive, watchful. Almost ready to devour Nienna if she threatened to smile passionately at another.

Strangely, Sauron's eyes closed the second Nienna's delicate hand touched his face. The scent, the essence, seemed so strong, so suffocating, that Sauron thought he was drowning in her touch. But it was not because of her, no.

It came from within, a melody, addictive and delicate, woven by the fear that was consuming Sauron’s mind. For it was a devouring melody, utterly bewitching. Sauron’s hand reached for Nienna’s, caressing her, to her surprise.

“I am so sorry.” She said, tears streaming down her face.

And Nienna was deeply sorry for the death of Thuringwethil. For Nienna was one of the Ainur, but her heart was not closed to the cruelty of Melkor, any more than to the wickedness of the firstborn.

Thuringwethil, Nienna thought sadly, should not have died that way, not so cruelly, so brutally. And as she stared at Sauron's bruised face, his bloodstained lips, Nienna knew that Sauron still felt that pain, that loss, even if he would not admit it to her.

So she did not turn away from the touch of Sauron's hand, for it was to her that the sufferers turned when the pains in Arda were too heavy for them to bear alone. And, Nienna thought, despite his cruelties, Sauron was still a creation of Eru, as was she.

Sauron, however, was furious with Nienna, oh, he was more than furious. He hated her more than ever. For while he was being torn apart, while Thuringwethil was being brutalized in Tol-in-Gaurhoth, Melkor was at Nienna's side, keeping her in Angnaire.

Concerned for her safety, keeping her away from all violence, all evil. Protecting her as if she were one of the Silmarils. Precious and fascinating to him. Angband, abandoned, all while Melkor was more occupied in worshipping the body of his wife to whom he prayed as if she were a goddess.

It was sickening, indeed, how Melkor did not care that they were tortured by Lúthien, by Huan, because he was too busy keeping Nienna so tied to him that she could not leave for Valinor alone.

Sauron, unfortunately, understood that feeling. For Nienna loved Melkor so much, he could smell her love for the Dark Vala. She had been bound to him since the Beginning of Time, and now, Sauron thought, she was bound until Arda was remade. Perhaps even beyond.

But behind all the anger, all the resentment, the new feeling was there. A feeling that welled up inside Nienna, but not even she was able to control it. And Sauron doubted she knew what she was doing, otherwise she would not be touching him.

For the melody was there again, clouding Sauron's thoughts, playing with his emotions, twisting his thoughts, but he knew it was not Nienna doing this, and Sauron was worried, for a moment.

A touch, cold and firm, reached for Nienna's hand, pulling her hand away from Sauron's face. Melkor did not care for her pity, that she cared for the losses Sauron had suffered, so long as she stayed away from him.

Because Nienna might not be able to notice, but Melkor could. And Melkor knew Sauron intimately enough to know that Sauron was addicted to Nienna's touch, to the way her skin felt warm against his face.

With the loss of touch, Sauron looked at Nienna, her face stained with tears, looking confused at Melkor, not understanding why he held her arm so tightly, but his stormy and murderous gaze remained on Sauron.

He would devour her, right here, right now, Sauron thought, if that was what it took to keep her from being touched again, from being looked at again. How ironic, he thought with a smile, noting how Melkor let go of Nienna's wrist but remained very close to her, as if he feared she would be touched again.

“Captivating.” Sauron whispered.

Indeed it was, for Sauron had never felt that sensation before, and he did not know if he could bear to be without it again. But he kept his distance, while Melkor wrapped his arms around Nienna's waist. Sauron did not need orders, no. Not when Melkor looked at him as the tyrant himself.

"Your failure at Tol-in-Gaurhoth will not be forgotten, Sauron," Said Melkor, and his furious gaze enveloped him. "Nor will your cowardice in remaining hidden."

Nienna, though silent, looked at Melkor in hurt. But the Dark Vala did not look at her, he stared fixedly at Sauron. As if he was breaking down the door to Sauron's mind, searching for answers, for an explanation. But not even Melkor, the most powerful among the Valar, was able to break down the sacred barriers of the mind.

“But you must remain in Angband, and protect Nienna.”

What was it, Sauron wondered, that he heard in his master's voice? It was almost, perhaps, discomfort, as if he did not want exactly what he was asking for, but was concerned enough with Nienna to trust Sauron.

Slowly, Sauron smiled with false kindness, taking one last look at Nienna. For someone so suspicious, always so defensive around him, she seemed strangely calm. No, not calm. Exhausted. Well, Sauron could work with that.

“I would be honored to protect you, My Queen.” Sauron said, holding back the smirk that threatened to escape.

Nienna, the Maia thought, must be completely alone in Angband, for Melkor to keep Sauron close to her. But it made sense, did not it? There were no other women in Angband. And Melkor would not let any mother, Orc or otherwise, get close to Nienna. And young Elven women locked in dungeons was not an option.

Sauron had heard the rumors, yes, about how suspicious Melkor was of Adar. About how he had tortured Adar and destroyed his body, for days, for weeks, simply because of Adar's attachment to Nienna. Not that Sauron minded, of course.

Adar was making his own choices, and if suffering to be close to Nienna was worth it, Sauron would not be trying to stop the next torture. But he wondered if Nienna knew, she did not think so.

“Do not leave me wondering, My Queen.” Sauron said, watching Melkor’s reactions carefully. “Tell me, what are you expecting for?”

Nienna smiled at Sauron, and even though she seemed sad, always crying, Sauron, against his will, understood Melkor's desire, the endless desire to devour her, all her light, and all that essence that consumed her.

“A boy.” Nienna said.

She smiled lovingly as Melkor kissed her face, caressing her belly. To anyone else, it would have been a shocking, even surprising scene. But Sauron knew that it was not just love, passion or lust.

No. This was about dominion, about power. Melkor was proving to Sauron that Nienna was beyond any limits he was willing to cross. That she was his wife, and his alone, and that Sauron would be wise to keep his distance.

“An heir.” Sauron whispered.

Unlike Elves and Men, the Valar were able to choose what their children should be. The power of mind over body was too strong, too divine. They consented and loved their children from conception, and this power was so strong that they controlled their formation.

At least, when they were in Valinor, among other Ainur. Because Sauron did not think Nienna was well, not really, which explained why Melkor hovered like a protective shadow over her. He, the most dangerous being in all of Arda, worried. To Sauron, it was almost pathetic, because he did not understand that feeling, maybe he never would.

“It is surprising, I must confess.” Falsely, Sauron smiled at Nienna.

Uncertainly, she smiled back at him. Then it all made sense to Sauron. Because Nienna was too vulnerable to protect her own mind, and that was why Melkor was keeping her close. Children, Sauron thought, required many sacrifices, and he wondered if that sacrifice would be worth it in the end.

“It is important to us, is not it?” Nienna asked, reaching out to Melkor’s hand.

Oh, true love, yes, Sauron could see it shining in Nienna's eyes. In all of Arda, only one being loved Melkor with such passion, such heat, that not even the Balrogs could match the nature of that love. Of the flame that burned in Nienna's breast for Melkor.

Nienna's love, Sauron knew, and he believed Melkor knew as well, would be her punishment for loving him, for agreeing to have a child with him. The Valar would not forgive what they had done, what Melkor had influenced Nienna to accept.

But it was not surprising, not to those who noticed how Nienna caressed Melkor's Silmaril-marked hands, as dark as his heart. What a pair they made, Sauron thought, watching Melkor with the Iron Crown with only two Silmarils, while Nienna wore the crown he had forged for her.

Slowly, Melkor brought Nienna closer to him, kissing her with such passion, such devotion, such hunger, that it was impossible for Sauron not to despise Nienna even more. With all that kindness, with all that forgiveness, to Sauron, she was the worst of the Valar.

Jealousy, some would judge Sauron to be feeling, as Nienna returned Melkor's kiss, caressing his scarred face. The beautiful Fana she loved so much, but whom she loved so much more. Sauron was miserable, for not even he could push Nienna away.

But he could make things a little more interesting. She was focused on Melkor, returning his love, and Sauron had been carefully poking at her mind, but she did not seem to notice, and her barriers seemed very fragile.

And even if Sauron wanted to touch Nienna again, for his hands to find hers, or any part of her, just so he could feel that sensation once more, the plan that formed in Sauron's mind was different, more cruel, even.

Melkor reluctantly pulled Nienna away, not taking his eyes off her. For a moment, Sauron was furious, for he knew what Melkor was doing, when he noticed the loving smile on Nienna's face.

Yes, Melkor's Shadow was stronger, colder around them, and Sauron knew that Melkor was whispering in Nienna's mind, to her and her alone. For Melkor's love, corrupted, hungry, devouring, belonged to her. And it would always be so.

“Sauron.” Nienna said, reluctantly pulling away from Melkor’s arms with a small farewell.

Nienna's bare feet did not click against the floor of the throne room as she turned her back to Melkor. All Sauron did was watch her leave, before Melkor's giant, hot hand, which still held the fire of the Silmarils, clamped down roughly on Sauron's neck.

Melkor's gaze was furious, vicious, and filled with wrath against Sauron. And Sauron knew he could not hide his thoughts from himself, not from Melkor, not when evil and cruelty permeated the air around them.

He might be a deceiver, a silver tongue, but he was only a Maia before Melkor, the true Dark Lord. A servant, a servant easily discarded if he provoked Melkor's wrath.

“Do not dare touch my wife, it is an order.” Melkor roared, powerful and terrifying and more cruel than ever.

Melkor released Sauron, turning his back on the Maia. Sauron watched in silence as Melkor sat on the throne, with Nienna's empty throne beside him. Always far away, yet, always damned close.

“All I wish is to serve, My Lord.” Said Sauron, with false guilt, false regret.

But Melkor knew better, and Sauron was not such a good deceiver when he was around the Dark Lord. He would keep him under surveillance, Melkor thought, still glaring at Sauron. But he needed his lieutenant to keep Nienna safe, especially if the rumors of the Union of Maedhros were as dire as they seemed.

“Keep Nienna safe, Sauron,” Melkor said in Black Speech. “Your life, your position, and your place at my side depend on it.”

In the coming war, all must choose sides, Sauron knew that. And Sauron liked to be on the powerful side, the winning side. And if he had to endure Nienna, to achieve all the power that Melkor had promised in Valinor, he would make that sacrifice.

“You have my full loyalty, Master.” He said, kneeling before Melkor in complete respect.

It seemed to Sauron, at least for the moment, that he had managed to appease Melkor's wrath enough for him to be dismissed from the throne room without suffering any punishment for having touched Nienna. But Melkor would not be merciful again, and Sauron feared it.

He would need to be careful, yes. If he hoped to succeed in his plans, Sauron would be so kind that Melkor would not suspect his true intentions. So, Sauron smiled maliciously, leaving the throne room, noticing that not far from him, Nienna was being escorted to her chambers by one of the Uruks of Adar.

Nienna, Sauron thought, was all the fun Angband needed. And perhaps a wife, a pregnant wife of the Dark Lord, might not be so bad after all. Sauron merely smiled at the wicked thoughts that filled his mind.

According to The Nature of Middle-earth, the gestation period for Elves can last anywhere from a year or more. But for my own storytelling purposes, the gestation period will be longer here. But don't worry, I know what I'm doing.

Oh, well. And I think it's important to warn you that Sauron is going to get really weird and difficult soon. But I'll let you find out later.

Since I spend all day thinking about Melkor and Nienna, and especially how I imagine them while I'm writing, I made a small edit about them and you can suffer with me.

My friend and I think Melkor and Nienna sound good when said Mienna, so you can bet I'm on board!

tag: @valar-did-me-wrong

#the rings of power #trop #the lord of the rings #lotr #the silmarillion #the silmarillion fics #melkor #tolkien #morgoth #nienna #melkor x nienna #morgoth x nienna #my writing #writing prompt #fic prompt #my prompts

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