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(@the-constrainer) "I wonder, do you recall me after so long?"
His chamber in Dol Guldur fell silent. Sauron did not move. How was he here, after so long? But Sauron could not forgot that voice; it haunted his mind like the shades of the dead.
"Master," He did not turn around, voice soft and disbelieving, as he read to tighten his mask, his face hidden behind the gold of it, a shroud of black over his head. "Master, is it really you?"
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(@the-constrainer)
"Did you know I once met your mother? Your one son looks much like her."
Fëanor looked up, his gaze wary. He didn’t know if he wanted to hear what Melkor would have to say about his mother.
“Yes,” he said finally, trying to sound unaffected. “He does.”
Melkor was annoyed that of all beings he had to turn to her about this. But his son was clearly sick, crying and in need of something he could not provide the infant. So Laurelin was scrubbed and dressed as a servant and brought to the nursery where the father was rubbing the back of little Lerya as he got sick.
If it was possible, Laurelin looked worse now than she ever had before during her time in Angband. All other tortures, all other cruelties, none of them compared to having her son ripped from her and being barred from him completely. She had not eaten or slept since the day of his birth. For nearly a full week, she had sobbed and screamed and raged in her cell before falling silent and despondent as her grief overwhelmed her. Dark circles hung under dull and glassy eyes, and her frame was far too thin as she wasted away in the dungeons.
As the orcs led her to the upper levels, she almost wondered if Melkor already thought it time for another child, but, mercifully, she was led into a different room where she heard an infant's cry long before the door had even opened.
She pulled against her chains in anticipation as her head lifted and her heart pounded, the first signs of life she had shown in so long. Indeed, the door opened to the sight of her crying, ill son.
"Lerya," she croaked, pulling again at her chains as tears burned her eyes. Turning to Morgoth, she hissed. "What have you done to him?"
@the-constrainer
(the-constrainer) Melkor has taken to waiting until Arafinwe is sleeping to sing light Songs over him. Changing and enhancing his powers. Giving him more lucidity to control and navigate his visions and dreams.
The difference was not noticeable at first, the odd dream more vivid and less foggy than others. But it soon became clear to Arafinwë that something had changed and he knew there was only one cause - Morgoth, even he did not know his method. He deicided to ask one evening, as he lay spent and sore beside the Valar, too full of questions to sleep.
"My lord, have you advanced your potions? I feel different."
@the-constrainer
@the-constrainer said: “I guess this is a lesson in not trusting people, right?”
Beleg said nothing.
The dwarf had betrayed them, Túrin taken off into the night to be bought to Angband. But at least he was safe now; in the darkness Beleg had saved him, pressing the care of his wounded friend into Gwindor’s capable hands (or hand, rather) and turned to delay the orcs himself. He had not expected to be taken prisoner - what was he worth to enemy?
I am so screwed.
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(the-constrainer) "Giving the Fear stuffed toys? Are you that desperate for them to like you?"
@the-constrainer
“It is to help with their healing. Would you like one?”
Mairon might have been locked in the house given to him by the Valar two ages past, yet he would have still surely felt the changes. Thunder clashing, lightning, winds and the sea stirring, the earth shaking and then it was all quiet until an explosion hit the house, ripping the front away and there stood Melkor. He was not as he once was, now bloodied and scarred far worse, with burns and withered wings.
At first he had thought it was just a storm. But by now he knew it was not, and he had smashed a wine glass to use as a weapon, standing and facing the door as he waited - he had had to have some way to defend himself.
And then the whole building shook, and he grimaced, as the door was ripped away.
"Melkor!" He would recognise him anywhere. His hand faltered, dropping the glass. "What...?!"
@the-constrainer
(@the-constrainer) Melkor looked down at the two newborns amused how they were already wiggling about and trying to roll over. Clever things, "They look like you," He told Mairon where the maia rested, not bothered by the fact, "Going to be a handful."
Mairon had never felt so exhausted in his life. But he was elated, to watch his precious babies in their crib, to hear Melkor's praise. It was worth it.
"They are. But that is a good thing. They will keep us on our toes, I am certain. Will you bring them here so I can hold them?"
