OP I need you to know this is everything to me so here is the daydream I had immediately after seeing this post below the cut. Cw brief mentions of suicidal thoughts
Frodo hates being seen as a hero in Valinor. He feels what he did was out of necessity, not heroism, and he hates being unilaterally praised in a way that overlooks how traumatic the whole Everything was
Even worse when Sam isn't there, bc even though Sam doesn't entirely understand what Frodo went through, he understands better than anyone else
The thought at some point comes to Frodo's mind: nobody here gets me, and weird enough he finds himself missing Gollum. Then, nobody here gets me except for maybe one person
It takes him a while to work up the courage to ask to see Mairon because he knows it's going to be met with "what the fuck" (and it is)
Some take it as a sign that Frodo is turning evil, others that he doesn't understand how manipulative Mairon is, and basically everyone forbids him from going they don't understand the downsides of abstinence-only education
Frodo goes anyway. He is small and can sneak far into the halls of Mandos, but not far enough to the deep dark depths where Mairon is being held
When he's caught, he explains to Námo why he's there and begs to see Mairon. Námo reluctantly agrees to take him, but gives him a very long lecture about why not to trust him
Frodo sees Mairon who's basically a wraith contained in idk let's just put him in a box, lashing out and angry and clearly very very miserable
Frodo asks Námo if he can be alone with Mairon and Námo is at first very reticent to allow this but at a certain point realizes that if any rehabilitation is gonna happen for either of these people he has to let them talk
Frodo starts off just kind of looking at Mairon, and it hurts a lot to see basically the outward manifestation of all the anger and grief bottled up in the ring he carried for so long
Eventually he starts off like "I'm sorry." Not as in he regrets it per se, but Mairon is just in an incredibly sad state
The wraith in the box calms down somewhat, as if curious, though still radiating contempt and hostility
A/N: ok fuck it no more bullet points we write fanfic normal style
The name, Frodo knew not how he knew it, was awkward on his lips, but he tried it out anyway: "Mairon?"
After a second, the wraith spoke in a voice like a tuneless song. "How do you know that name?"
"I carried your ring into the depths of Mordor. It was I who..." the words froze in Frodo's throat. "I'm sorry."
Mairon was taken aback. He had hardly known Frodo until the moment of his own death. All he caught from the hobbit's mind were vague images of happiness in the Shire, images Mairon had brushed off as superficial. Happiness was a frivolous feeling, and not one that Mairon had felt in a long time. No mortal being could come close to the depths of his own fury at Eru, his fury at the Valar who had trapped him here. And yet, this shallow, short-lived hobbit knew Mairon's name.
"You don't have to tell me how I've hurt you," Frodo says. "I know."
"You? Hurt me? Ha! If you really know, you should know my enemies are much greater than you, little ring bearer."
"Enemies? What do enemies matter to you? You have no army. You have no body. Your war for vengeance is over."
"And yet Melkor has not."
The words pierced Mairon like a knife. Frodo had known they would. "Not yet," Mairon responded out of instinct.
"It's sad. You're sad, aren't you?"
"Sad?" Mairon laughed. "I spent eons planning my revenge, perfecting my armies, swaying the peoples of Middle-earth to my side. I am the head of the greatest army on the land... I was, at least."
Mairon went silent. He hadn't thought of it like that. Sad. It made it all sound so simple. It wasn't simple. It couldn't be simple. Melkor was his everything, Melkor was his beloved, his god, his greatest ally in the world. He had not only lost Melkor, Melkor had been ripped from him violently. Then, at every turn, Mairon had been denied - he remembered Eonwë's contempt, his impenetrable mask hiding uncounted secrets. Ar-Pharazôn's uncontained lust, lust that did not care for Mairon, that cared only for itself. And Celebrimbor - the way Celebrimbor became his enemy the instant Mairon dropped his facade. What had he been thinking? Annatar could be loved like that, but Sauron never could. Sad? No, sad was for the lesser races. The eternal life of a maia could not be so simple as sad.
"It's okay to be sad," Frodo continued. "It's okay to be lonely. It's okay to be angry. You don't have to deny these things. To deny yourself. You don't have to sequester your feelings into some stupid piece of jewelry."
"So you've come to lecture, too?"
"I'm talking to myself. You know, I almost died in Mordor. It didn't scare me. Physical pain didn't scare me. Not when the ring was with me. Because any other kind of pain was a welcome distraction from the grief in that cursed ring. It was your pain, wasn't it?"
"I didn't make the ring to rid myself of my pain. I made it as a weapon."
"It's a good weapon. It... hurts. It hurts in a way my mind can't even comprehend."
"As if a mortal's mind could ever grasp the depths of my own."
"No. No, I can't." Frodo paused. "You know... Mairon... do you want to know why I visited you?"
"I fear you'll tell me whether I want to know or not."
"I won't. Do you want to know?"
Mairon paused. "Go ahead," he said contemptuously. "I have nothing better to do."
"I came here because I feel that nobody in the world understands the torment your ring put me through. Sure, others have known loss and pain, but their pain is theirs, and mine... mine is yours. Nobody understands this pain besides you. And... if even I do not understand you... if the torment that drove me to pray for death is only a shadow of your own... by Eru, how lonely you must be."
Mairon was silent. His entire soul tremored. Nobody, nobody had said that to him before. He shook so hard with self-pity, he felt like his entire disembodied fëa was going to break into pieces.
"You're... crying?" Frodo asked.
"Get out," Mairon snapped.
Frodo did so, quietly and unhesitatingly. Stone scraped as Mairon's cell door closed. He was alone to cry - yes, crying was the word for it, if it could be called anything. He was alone - and he was sad. And only now did he hesitantly allow the thought into his mind: I am very, very sad.
