#angband

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He had to make himself sick enough to be taken to the healers. That was not an easy feat in Angband, where elves were often worked to death and laughed at for it. There were way though.

While the back of the orc was turned he took a small handful of charcoal and ate it. It was extremely unpleasant and hard to achieve, but he managed it. With any luck it would make him appear violently sick.

It didn't take long for Maedhros to get lucky. He became ill and was not questioned when he requested time with the healers. His luck ran out shortly afterwards though, as the forge contained many dangerous substances in the fuels. The rooms were spinning and his head felt light. Soon after arriving at the healers, everything went black.

He awoke on a thin mat on the stone floor, his body somehow burning up.

"Please," he managed to speak hoarsely, "please find a curse for my curse."

The young elf looked at him with pity. Maedhros could tell his age just at a glance, it could not be more than 30 years. The elfling had probably- tragically- been born in the fortress.

"Many elves here see themselves as being cursed. I do not blame you, but the curse of the dark master is not one that I have any power over. You nearly died though. I apologise, but we had to revive you."

"Why apologise for such a thing? If you have done that for me than I applaud you for your skill."

The elf was taken aback. In truth he had seen many cases like this, all of them from elves attempting to find a quick escape from the iron hells via Mandos. It surprised him that Maedhros was different.

"I'll be back soon for your next check up." He said clinically. He didn't know how to answer and he wasn't meant to talk.

"Wait, one more thing before you go."

You, the reader, are Maedhros.

screaming at Melkor.

Takes melkors drink and sips it before twerking in the doorway before disappearing into the shadows.

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The thought of what this Maia was asking him to do was absurd and demeaning.

"Do you take me for a fool? I am not in need of your pity, nor your lies. I am not above my people... And most importantly I would never betray my brother's for my own gains!!" Maedhros reached out and shoved the Maia away from him. A risky move, perhaps, but the fires of Angband had not succeeded in quelling his own rage, which still burned brightly behind his eyes.

The Maia wasn't sure what to make of it. All of a sudden this elf couldn't see sense! It was infuriating! But he'd make him pay. He bowed slightly and held out his hand towards the next room.

"As you were then, my king." He grinned, glaring at him. He then turned to shadow and disappeared.

He watched in the form of torch smoke as Maedhros limped himself through to the next chamber. He revelled in the sounds of the king's screams as a hole was punched through his ear and metal was woven through it. He was given a tag number; M1750FAR. He kept a mental note of it in case he lost track of him and wanted to try again at a different time. But perhaps he didn't have to try again another time. That number meant he was being sent to the forges, having proven to the lower Maia assigning work that he knew too much about forge work to be useful anywhere else. He had also fought too much to be entrusted with the creation of weapons, so armour it was.

You, the reader, are the mysterious Maia.

"watch over this for a hour please."

I’m suggesting more robotic Angband. Like Sauron being made out of steel shaped into human form. Morgoth as a cruel amalgamation of flesh and iron. Balrogs with literally melting on the inside due to the heat being too hot for the material they’re made of. Thuringwethil with a jaw and chest that opens up to take things in.