#angband

He was called Maitimo by his mother and his family. He was fair like his father, he was desired. He never married, but he liked his reputation for being beautiful, and he enjoyed the sight of himself, especially when he was able to adorn himself with jewellery made by his father or himself.

Think of them adding a massive arena into the depths of the fortress. They can take captured generals or rebellious thralls and force them to fight uneven battles with orcs or monsters. Corrupt Maiar of Ulmo could flood the arena with deadly waves for them to battle, balrogs could make fire spurt from the floor for them to avoid.

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Sauron slinked his way into the bed again, sitting Tyelpë on his lap and wrapping them both with the plush blankets.

"Now now, Tyelpë, dear thing, such worries are unfounded. I know it must be natural for an elfling to miss their parent, but you must understand that I will be a replacement for such people who used to be in your life."

Celebrimbor looked up at him, confused and scared, too frightened to either move or speak.

"you needn't seek a home, for your new one is right here." He brushed away the elfling's tears gently, kissing his cheek tenderly as if to wish it better. "Is it not comfortable in my arms? Do I not give you everything you need? You are warm, well fed, and clean, and I know you are too old to need your mother's milk anymore." His last remark was teasing and he laughed at it himself. The elf was only a decade or two off of maturity, so definitely far too old.

The mention of his mother struck a chord. She had left when he was young... then his father- who was initially very attentive and caring- began to grow distant after many years without her. He missed his father, but he felt as though the person he called out for was not the elf who lived as his father now. They had not spoken at all in the days leading up to his capture, he wondered if his father had even noticed yet. Tears sprung anew from his eyes.

"It isn't about that... I just love him, and I need him."

"You do not need him, Tyelpë." Sauron insisted, his tone becoming firmer. He sighed... Elflings really were too picky... It was the price to pay for their cuteness.

"Your father left you... he isn't here, it's just us now, only me that cares."

A dark thought entered his mind. A lie that would break the elf.

"I didn't want to tell you, but I think you need to know now..."

You, the reader, are Sauron.

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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.