lacriimas:
She turns her sorrowful, dark eyes to him and the tears that course down her pale cheeks only seem to increase in number at the sight of him. There is no fear or revulsion; only deep, painful grief.
“How can I not? Who shall weep for them if not I? Pain you have brought to these Children in excess and so I must weep for them, for their suffering is as my own… I once pleaded with Súlimo to grant you a second chance because I could not bear the idea of you suffering. I could not withhold mercy from you. But in doing so, I have brought more pain to others.”
“--And would you show such mercy STILL, given the chance? Would you beg for my pardon again, even if your previous efforts were entirely in vain?”
Shedding aside the TERRIBLE and COLD gaze of a Dark Lord in favor of a far gentler expression -- akin to that which he wore last in Valinor before his escape -- does Melkor make his approach, scorched hands reaching forward to cup pale cheeks between them. He gazes upon the other, contemplative, & a thumb wipes aside the dampness upon her features, his own brows narrowed together in a twisted mockery of what one might call concern.
Her tears stir something within the pit of his chest, echoes of an anguish from ages gone by -- long before the creation of the world and all within it. A small flame which he must yet again smother underfoot and pack away into the furthest recesses of his thought, quickly, before it burns far beyond his control.
How pitiful -- to think that SHE could be made of the very same essence as he.
But Melkor was IS by far the mightiest of all the Ainur, is he not? He has moved beyond all of this. There is no need for tears, nor of mercy -- and yet, he has such traits to THANK for the freedom to MAR yet once more.
Perhaps it is CRUEL to ask such things of her, but he wishes to hear her answer... To see if she will betray her very NATURE in order to defy him -- or fall prey to that same compassion once more, still a mere puppet of Ilúvatar’s will.
