Brothers

Chapter 1

***Manwë’s POV

He sleeps.

Radiant, malignant. Bleak, beautiful. Utterly insane, beyond any hope of help.

His long canine teeth protrude strangely, and yet they seem to fit his face, somehow, now.

The long, long black hair spreads out around him, framing the cruel yet peaceful visage.

This unusual and comatose being was sent into a deep stupor to save the world from his wrath and madness.

Also- he is my brother.

Once my equal in power- perhaps my superior.

Somehow, some way, something happened to him. This perfect, splendid angel of light- now the darkest creature of all. What happened to him? Did I fail him in some way, or did he simply become bored and weary of the Light?

Could this have been avoided?

First time, three ages in the Void. The great and fathomless sleep, behind the Door of Night. Beyond Life, existence.

It was the last resort, of course.

And when he came yet again before us, remorseless, cold as ice as ever, after his time was up, Nienna wept for him, and pleaded for him.

I wept for him too, but my tears were silent, hidden. I do not have the luxury of open grief or fear.

I did not understand, back then, just what was wrong with him- I still do not. But I also failed in a much worse way- I did not comprehend the situation.

And for that, many paid dearly.

Between Nienna’s pity and my own love, all agreed -except for a few who saw and understood how tragically ruined he really was – that he must be given a chance, a pardon. The idea of keeping him in the Void forever had never been considered, of course- but to release him totally- was that wise?

Had we, perhaps, made it even worse by the time spent in thrall?

It was a penalty, yes, but also was intended to heal, to give him a chance to calm his fiery soul.

In the end, I do not think it made him worse. But it did not make any better, either.

When he came out, the madness had developed to totality.

He fooled me, I admit it. He fooled Nienna too, but her heart is so ruled by compassion that was a foregone conclusion.

And so now, betraying our desperate trust in him, he was defeated and now he lies here yet again.

Nienna wept again, for all harmed by him, as well as for him. All her tears, enough to fill an ocean.

And yet, here he is again, in a spellbound coma, oblivious to all. The dreamless and painless price to pay, for complete and violent madness, the irresistible urge he has to destroy all.

He has been called a killer, a fiend, a traitor.

Monster.

But in many ways - and this is the most chilling of all to me, personally- he is still only my brother, black-haired, powerful, sensual. He used to be so vibrant, so alive.

He who arose in might. And rise he did, and then fell, like a lightning bolt- breaking my heart, and his own as well.

And the other.

Sauron.

The beautiful, hideously reckless young Maia.

Who fell so in love with Melkor that he was more than willing to sacrifice his own future and fall, so adoring and in love was he.

And then went on to become a madman in his own right.

More tears from Nienna.

I look down at him, and then reach out and touch the serene, half-demon face.

I want to make love with him.

It is nothing so unusual, we used to make love together, before he lost his mind and tore apart the world around him.

I am excited simply by the sight of him. I still love him so much.

But he can never be set free, never again be released- unless- there is some way found to change him- and I believe that will have to come from him. He knows I love him, and that if he would relent, I could forgive him everything, and would not rest until I saw him restored.

I bend down to him, and lift his slack arms up- and place manacles around his wrists, gently. Still, he sleeps.

I lift his limp head up, and cradle him to my chest. Still- he sleeps.

I will not weep. I must not waste the time I have here on futile sorrow.

I run my trembling fingers through his dark hair. He snarls softly, the first sign of a response.

So doomed.

It hurts me. It hurts to think of it. I cannot bear it, so I must proceed, and do what I came here to do.

I lean closer, and the dark eyes flutter open, black lashes against olive swarthy skin, those eyes open and…he looks at me, and I shudder involuntarily.

The madness immediately takes him, not even a moment’s respite does he get.

He curls his lips back in a savage leer, and then hesitates.

“I love you.” I tell him, in simple honesty. I wait for the mocking laughter. It does not come.

“Impossible.” he replies, in a voice that sounds as if legions of demons are screaming all at once.

“Not impossible. The truth. You are my brother. Even now.”

His eyes fill me with a cold I have never felt in all my countless ages. It comes from inside him, it comes from his very soul. How did this happen?

“Melkor.” I do not know what to say. Why does he hate me, when I love him so much? He already hated me, before ever being- sent away.

He grins weakly. “Melkor? Do you not mean to say, Morgoth?”

I frown, I do not like that name. “No. I do not wish to call you that.”

I reach out, boldly, stupidly, and touch his face. It is like touching soft ice, a glacial smoothness.

He looks surprised. Frowns, then smiles.

“If I were not chained, I would return your caress.”

“I cannot release you, Melkor. You would only give me more reason to weep, if I did so.”

He smiles slowly, chillingly calm.

Considers his words, measuring them, for the fullest cruelty, the deepest impact.

Then, triumph.

He smiles again at me, it would be beautiful, if it were not so pitiless, and showing sharp white teeth, he replies coldly:

“I would have thought the well of your tears would be dry by now…!”

Chapter 2

***Manwë’s POV

Ice and venom instead of blood, my brother has in his veins.

We look at one another for a long time, and then he sighs, and turns away.

“What do you want, Manwë?”

I reach again to touch his face, but this time, he draws back, annoyed.

“Answer me. What do you want? You have come to mock me? Release me, or begone.”

I struggle to control myself.

“If you were sane, I would release you!”

He scowls, tiring of the game.

The world was a beautiful and fragile vase of great worth, and my mad brother tore it from its pedestal and smashed it to the ground…just to see it shatter, just to indulge his anger at not being the sole owner.

Just to take it from us, the others, who would gladly have shared it with him.

We have pieced it back together- but it will never be the same.

Always..the cracks will be there, the weaknesses, the flaws, now. The hate, so new back then.

I ought to leave, bind him back into his bottomless and deathlike sleep. He will not suffer, he is not suffering at all.

He leaves that to us.

Nienna is very good at it, and Mandos scarcely feels it.

And I..well, I feel it, but the responsibility is upon me, and I must be strong, no matter what.

“Take all my powers, and release me.” he says hopefully.

“Do not say such things, you know well I cannot do that, either thing.”

He sits up, suddenly, startling me, and I jump, ridiculously.

He laughs, then, but not unkindly.

I smile at him, fantasizing wildly. It is before the bad times, before the betrayals- both of them- and we are simply brothers, sons of Illuvatar, ready to welcome the Coming Beings into the newborn world.

“I love you, Melkor, Aratar…” I say to him, lavish words for my poisonous sibling, and I lean down to the deadly sweet incense of his breath.

“I know you do.” he replies, evenly. “But you should not.You have left me no choice but to destroy you.”

I grimace. “Strange..I was going to say the same thing to you!”

He moves towards me, slowly, and our lips meet in a rare kiss, his frigid tongue in my eager mouth, probing me with vulgar passion. Breathless, I finally pull back, and the flames dance in his dark eyes. He looks disgusted, and glares at me anew.

“Pity! You- pity me! Do you know how foul that is to me?”

I say nothing. What can I say to that?

His hand, forgiving even in its wrath, glides up along my side, and then he pulls me down to him, manacled though he is.

“You need not pity me, brother. It is unneeded, unwelcome, and most undeserved. I chose freely, and still do, in all things. No one has ever forced me, and I take all responsibility. I am the Master of my Destiny!”

Again, I make no reply.

"Will you ever see reason?" I say, absurdly still trying.

"I already have. A pity that you do not, yourself."

He frowns, and looks me straight in the eyes, cold fire cutting me, hurting.

"What of Sauron? What has become of him?"

I hesitate, I do not know whether to tell him or not. He does not already know?

"Sauron...has gone into Mordor..he has built a Tower there. He deceives the Elves with his beauty by day, and plots their downfall by night. He calls himself Annatar, now."

My brother smiles, very slowly, and then whispers:

"My beautiful Maia...still, he does my Will..."

I do not know if that is the case, or if Sauron is simply doing his own will, at this point. I say nothing.

"He will be the end of you, brother. The end of all of you. Sauron has a power and a fire that none of you ever imagined. He will avenge me, and..."

I silence him with my mouth, roughly, very roughly, choosing love over violence, although in truth, I ache to strike him.

Bring the back of my hand across his handsome, merciless visage.

He has learned nothing, and wishes only my doom, the same as before.

My kindness, my love for him, is nothing to him, only a weakness.

He glares at me with hate and scorn, but then returns my ardor, his long cold tongue snaking into my mouth, raping me full of his evil.

His body moves slowly and ponderously, a volcano coming to life gradually.

I break the terrible kiss, and push him onto his back, his manacled hands in front of him.

He glowers, not liking to be on his back. Better, I should be submissive to him, of course.

I ignore his growing anger- he is not one to enjoy being forced, unlike his Sauron, who craves it- and pull his bound arms up and behind him, so that I may have free access to his front. His eyes are livid with anger, now, and I create a post behind him, and secure his manacled hands to it.

“Leave me!”, he snarls, the rage becoming violent, out of control.

He strains to get at me now, straining against the bonds. I am glad for them. He would tear me apart if he were free to do so.

But he is quite secure.

I reach out and touch the hard corded stomach muscles, stroking them, trying to make him enjoy this, to remember pleasure, to remember…love.

He closes the burning dark eyes, and makes a very soft sound, not quite a moan, more animal-like. I caress his rippling belly, and then, opening the tattered garment he still wears, lower, down to the tangled black forest, curled and thick.

A mighty tree stands alone in this dark forest, awake now, despite the resentment.

I have much power, as a Vala, but even so, this is the only tree I am able to devour. I do so, leaning down to him, my hair spilling over his thighs, also thick with the black curls.

I take him into my mouth, the salty taste stinging as I do it, but the sensation is as before...before the madness. This one part of him has not changed, then. His soul may be corrupt and his heart black, but this remnant of himself is swollen and beautiful now, perfect, virile and splendid.

My fingers are lost in the thick curls as I swallow down on it, my tongue grazing the knoblike end, and my willful brother chokes back a gasp, restraining himself fiercely.

But he is losing this battle, as well, now.

I look up at him, and see his eyes are closed still, his expression changing, not softening, but changing. His hands flex and clench in the manacles, above his head.

The Void of my mouth now encompasses him entire, and he is slipping, not able to bear it, and the groaning comes now, loud, almost plaintive. His hips thrash slightly under me, the control is being lost. I continue, with only thoughts of love in my mind.

On Arda, the winds are howling and screaming, and all that live therein look up in wonder.

In an Elven bed, sated and drowsy from his own passions among the Firstborn, Annatar also looks upwards, and frowns.

I see all these things in my mind, and then resume my full concentration on this glorious task at hand.

And suddenly, the eruption is coming, and Melkor hisses at me in resentful ecstasy, thrusting up into my mouth, rearing up and gushing hotly, and I let it drip from my lips, swallowing all I can.

His massive cock spasms in my hand, and with a weary groan, he settles back again, spent.

Once again, I fall silent.

Chapter 3

**Sauron’s POV

Awake, I stretch and sigh, nervous for some reason.

Have I been found out, already?

I look over at my sleeping lover of the moment, Celebrimbor, elven elegance and lurid passion. An alliance of convenience.

Long dark hair spills over his shoulder as he sleeps on his side, peaceful. Satisfied. Of course, he is satisfied. I am not a very good warrior, but I am a very wonderful lover.

All seems well.

But what of the cries I heard, the screams of the wind?

And my heart turned to Melkor, again, with the attendant guilt at my liberty, while he languishes in the demonic Valar’s punishment.

They did not even listen to his pleas, this time. No mercy. He was brought bound hand and foot, even blindfolded! My poor tragic angel of light.

The Valar have no pity, no leniency. Even the first time, they showed no mercy at all, but cast him into the abode of Mandos the Cold Hearted.

Three ages! I suffered and swore through the long, bitter years without end.

And now, as he has defied their iron will again, and sought self determination for Arda and ourselves, they will never release him. Not willingly, in any event.

His crown was made into a collar, a cruel collar! To bind his strong neck, to humble and humiliate him.

How I curse the Valar, and those foul jewels that brought us to this pass again.

But they would have found some reason, some excuse to bind him again.

Beautiful-Hand, they called me. Maker of Wonders and Beauty. So now I am Annatar: giver of gifts.

Yes, I shall give them gifts.

My form is fair by nature, I was created formless in the very beginning, of course, we all were, but when I took a shape at last, it naturally took on its destined appearance. I use my golden looks and my soft voice, and they serve me well.

I am neither shy nor humble. I know I am very beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful being ever on Arda. Why engage in false humility?

Beauty is my finest weapon, my most punishing mace, the most pitiless blade.

Men, Elves, and Valar alike fall at the feet of beauty, notwithstanding the cost!

Male and female I have seduced beyond count, and I make no distinction. This body I inhabit is sensual, powerful, loves pleasure, craves to be touched, aroused.

My greatest weakness is my need for domination. It is a very dangerous secret, and only Melkor was trusted enough to fully reveal it. It could be turned against me, and may yet, some day, if an enemy found out the way to my most sordid and throbbing excitement is in being restrained and constrained, bound, forced- yes- forced to submit.

Not a good secret to have, and a difficult one to keep, for one such as I, who must indulge my needs so often.

I look again at the handsome dark elf beside me.

On his finger- the golden ring of my love and power. I taught them how to make these gleaming circles of molten fire.

His ring is larger, set with a fire-ruby in the middle. They made their own, but soon- all shall be unto me.

If he knew what I was about to do with the Rings, soon, very soon, and if he ever guessed my real intent…what would he do to me? Would he kill me, or merely try to overwhelm me? Would he bind me for the pleasure of his kinsmen, one after another, over and over…

I catch myself shivering a little, flushed arousal creeping into what ought to be a moment of grave concern.

My heart is beating very fast, and my hands are trembling.

Tomorrow, I shall return to Mordor, to consummate the Forging of the God-Ring, the Ruler.

Then, domination shall be something I shall enjoy from the other viewpoint.

But I need something at the moment, and I gently touch his shoulder, sinewy with fine and rare Elven strength.

Awaken, Firstborn!

Give me pleasure, and I shall set you at my right hand, when the day dawns upon you. Do not betray me.

The liquid brown eyes flutter open, and I see a new thing there, an unhappy marvel:

mistrust, deep, born of some new awareness or knowledge. I see also that he loves me, and grieves.

I smile at him, innocence my only veil, my only protection. I know he has at the bedside his blade, and I am unarmed. If he has guessed, somehow, someway…will he slay me, despite his love, for the sake of Eregion? Elrond! Has he warned him yet again of me? Counseled him to put an end to me?

Fear slithers up my spine, as he does not return my smile, but instead reaches down beside us, the blade, is he reaching for it!

Numb, I wait, and his hand comes back up, as my heart thumps hard, racing. I have no way to escape, he is very swift, even more so than I, a Maia!

In his hand, he holds- not a killing blade- but a mithril necklace. I would rather devour excrement than wear it, but I smile again, as he puts it around my neck.

Suppressing the deep shudder of revulsion, I hear his words, loving, still cut with suspicion and mistrust now, and for the first time. Yet, sincere in their love, hopeless, regretful.

“For you, Annatar, my golden Lord.” His eyes are misty and sorrowful, and he kisses my lips, and I feel a tear fall. “I love you, Annatar. Never forget that.”

“What ails thee, my beauty?” I ask, and he shakes his head, and will not answer. Looks away, cold fire and grief in a sweet-faced vision.

I do not have much time.

Chapter 4

Sauron’s POV

Celebrimbor watches me as I pull the robe over my shoulders, preparing to leave. His face is set and strange.

Finally, I turn to him, and smile warmly, hoping he will let me go peacefully.

“Annatar.”

“Yes, my radiant Sun?”

He does not smile back at me, and my stomach muscles tense painfully. I could still be in danger here.

But I need to get to Mordor.

He rises, and walks towards me, his eyes cold, alarming me greatly.

And now I see, that in his hand he does hold the Elven blade, this time.

My nerves are shredding, but I feign calm. I open my arms for him, and conceal my stress.

Celebrimbor speaks very quietly, and I struggle to control my trembling. I hate situations like this. Fear is always difficult for me. I am not proud of it.

“Stay. Do not go out that door, Annatar.”

I beam at him, in ridiculous warmth. He is not having it.

“I will return soon, beloved. You know I need to go- but it will not be long.” Nervous, I walk to meet him, and put my arms around him. My eyes glance down at the blade, too obviously.

“Do you think I would ever harm you? I would not- no matter what. I will never hurt you.”

His words are deeply troubling, and I laugh, saying:

“Hurt me? Nay, why do you say such things! Of course I did not think that!”

Finally, his face lightens somewhat, and he smiles slightly. He wraps long arms around me, and buries his face in my hair.

I break the embrace at length, and smiling like a fool, kiss him on the lips, gently.

“Now- I must go- I will return before too long. Keep our bed safe and warm for our reunion.”

He grips my arms hard, and draws back. His face is distraught- he is not being cold, he is on the verge of tears. Nauseated by this, I grit my teeth.

“Do not go- Sauron.”

I gasp audibly, and freeze in horror. I look at him in utter shock and fear. He knows, he knows!

“Yes, I know who you are. I did not for a very long time. But in the last few months, I learned of this. It does not matter how.”

Elrond!, I curse to myself.

Celebrimbor looks into my frightened eyes, and speaks very clearly:

“ I love you. You know this. I know your hideous past, and yet, I love you, liar, deceiver, as you are. Stay here with me, Annatar, Sauron, stay, make a life with me, leave the wickedness behind you. I will never divulge who you are. I will never betray you, or allow anyone to harm you.”

For a long moment I remain speechless, still stunned.

Finally, I shake my head, backing away from him, and my eyes go to the blade again.

He frowns, sadly, and places the blade into its scabbard at his hip.

“If I had a mind to harm you, I would have slain you already. For you have given me reason enough, by your potential threat! Do you still not understand? I love you- do you not understand love? The three hundred years we have shared this bed, I have thought of none but you. Now that I know another name for you, my love is not stilled, nor is it quenched.”

Melkor. I recall the black hair, the violence of his love, the oath to him. Him, I love

Only.

“I cannot stay.” I whisper, still moving away.

“Please. Please do not leave. I cannot bear it.” Celebrimbor humbles his proud elven spirit- he is begging me!

Repulsed, I slip a leg over the windowsill, and again shake my head.

“No, Star of Eregion. I cannot. A lie discovered is a threat uncovered. I must go.”

“Sauron!”

I put a finger to my lips and smile at him, and obscenely, blow him a kiss. And then I am gone, as silently as I came.

Behind me, the Elves- and before me- the Fire Mountain- and my Destiny.

As I ride the coal black steed, I daydream of the Other- my lover, my teacher, my Lord.

The Mighty One, who had wasted no time at all in dominating me, and I swooned under his power gladly, and our joy had mingled in the nights countless.

Virgin I was, when Melkor came to me, and my fear- my too-often friend! – had encompassed me, and I had tried to stall, to ask him of Arda, and anything I could think of.

He had indulged me for a time, and then approached me with a sly smile on his handsome visage, and backed me against a pillar in Utumno. He had leaned down to reach my mouth, and his lips were very hot, very eager.

“Golden Flame.” he had whispered to me, and then his hand had found what it sought, and his fingers reached under the plain black robe I wore, fondling, making me rise, making me moan.

Desire, new and sweet, had coursed through me, making me tingle and flush, my young heart racing. He had pressed his tremendous maleness against mine, and for a long ecstatic moment we merely thrust together, making sparks and smoldering heat.

And then his famous impatience showed itself, and he pulled me down to the black floor of the Pit. I opened my legs to him as I had seen the females do to their males on Arda, ignorant but excited, and Melkor gazed at me with his fierce and blazing eyes.

He had licked one huge finger with a snakelike tongue, and then slipped it into me, slowly, and I had cried out in pleasure, bucking up against his hand. Such bliss!

He raked me inside, rubbing something I did not even know I had, and sharp jolts of sensation caused me to grasp his arm, and I delighted in the power I felt there.

He had smiled at me, and pulled out his finger too fast, and I felt pain then, the first.

And he descended on me, between my legs, pulling them apart, far apart, and the pain, again. Why was he being so rough now? My heart pounded in restrained fear, and then- oh, then.- he entered me, and all my ignorance left me, and I understood, in terrible clarity, and screamed, in pure torment, and equal passion.

Melkor had driven himself into me so hard and deep that I limped for days, and my mind reeled at the pain and pleasure, so strangely mingled.

Behind the corridors and in the shadows we were watched, and observed, but I did not care.

My limbs ached horribly, and my back was torn on the hard ground, but all I could perceive then was the sight of my dark lover, wings spread out above me, moving with preternatural grace and terrible strength.

And in the darkness, I wept and moaned, and swore myself to Melkor, and felt nothing but the ecstasy of our mutual climax, as the fires roared, and the creatures gibbered in glee.

As the wind blows through my long hair, I recall, and am aroused yet, in the recalling.

Oh, my Tano. My teacher. My Soul.

Soon.

Chapter 5

Manwë’s POV

I remember it, as if it had only just happened- burned into my soul, my being, never to heal, never to ease.

My brother’s execution.

Horror beyond anything I had imagined, and all my resolve to be strong, for the sake of Arda, for the sake of all Life, nearly crumbled before that horror.

They had bested him, and they told me he had pleaded for mercy at the last, cringing in the darkest tunnels of the hell of his underground.

Alone.

He had sent Sauron away, to safety. Had forced him to go.

But they had advanced on Melkor, and cut his legs- savagely, to hew through the black armor- and he had fallen to the ground, face-first, crippled, injured, ruined. I had not given such orders. Eonwë had muttered this news to me, and I had asked why they had done this. He replied, in a shaking voice, that it was not his doing, but the others- in their rage, and lust to defeat their mighty enemy, had shown no restraint.

But worse was to come, than mere crippling.

He had knelt before me, hate seething from him, blindfolded, bound hand and crippled legs- his feet- I couldn’t look there. I knew what I would see. Blood seeped onto the floor, making a red flower around the remnants of his feet.

My heart ached bitterly at this sight, and then I had simply resolved to just end this, as soon as I may.

I caught a glimpse of his forever-wounded hand, charred by the Jewels he could not live without. Pity and anger competed in my mind, and then, I pronounced sentence upon him.

Condemned my own brother to death, and then to the Not-Life, outside the Worlds.

The proud head bowed, and did I see a slight tremble?

But I could not indulge my natural desire for pity, not this time. If I did so now, I would be condemning the world to ruin, for the sake of one being.

The others looked on, Varda looking at me, concerned, feeling my grief. Nienna wept openly, silver tears down a lovely face. Mandos triumphant, not in any cruelty, but in justice and penance about to occur. Aule and Ulmo stone faced, shocked perhaps that one of our own was about to die by our hand. Yavanna took Nienna’s hand.

My brother is responsible for agony and death untold, his one death and exile into oblivion, is as a grain of sand on an immense ocean by comparison.

Or so I tell myself.

He looked up then, and I ordered the blindfold off of him.

“Do you have anything to say, Melkor? I will grant any last requests, and hear all you might wish to say.”

His terrible eyes burned into me, and I would never be free of that look.

Kinslayer, he mocked.

He had no other words, no last requests, nothing to ease his own fear- or my anguish.

“Let it be carried out then, quickly!”

We pulled him back up, Aulë and I- he could not stand, of course - and taken him to a wall – I had that wall obliterated, afterwards- we held him, and Mandos drew a long, fearfully sharp sword. My hand shook as I watched, but I controlled it.

The others gathered in a circle, not wanting to watch, yet it was their duty to do so.

We had said, in our anger and hurt, that he was no more counted among us. But the pain I saw now, in all the eyes around me, said otherwise.

Then, I saw fear in his eyes, and I was drawn to his gaze, now more pleading, softer, terror beginning to rise up. Pride and alarm struggled in his face, but he did not openly plead for mercy. He was wise enough to know I could give him none, now.

Mandos raised the blade, and he began to struggle violently, and Aulë and I bore down mightily to restrain him.

“Hold him!” I shouted, upset. “Let us do this cleanly!”

I placed my hand on that great deep chest, that I had touched in love so many times, and with a shudder of dismay, found the thunderous heartbeat.

“Here.” I said, distantly.

Mandos placed the sword tip directly above that spot, and for the first time, Melkor made a sound, a moan, and my own heart bled.

His black wings spread out around us, now, and beat slowly.

With all my resolve, I held him tightly, and Mandos thrust in the sword, and it went all the way through his chest, and out again, and the wings shivered in the air.

His eyes bulged, and he thrashed against the restraint of his captors.

And suddenly, he lunged upwards, and blood erupted from his mouth, covering me, billowing onto the ground, creating a lurid crimson sea.

Nienna had collapsed then, at the ghastly sight, and Yavanna and Varda cradled her, therir own faces white with horror.

My mind had sobbed, in silent agony, as Melkor, finally released to die, lay on the blood-covered flowers, body arching up, and then relaxing, and then again, the wide wings convulsing.

My own legs had suddenly nearly gone out from under me, then, and I swayed, and Aulë had caught me, his fiery eyes misty.

Endlessly, silently, he had writhed, and I watched, in stunned dismay, and dimly I heard Mandos saying, “Enough! Let us end this!” – as I watched impotently, Aulë had raised a great axe, and he brought it down on Melkor’s neck, and the great head was severed from its body.

I staggered then, and Mandos caught me this time, whispering gently “It is not done, yet. Nearly, but not yet.”

Above us a black shape loomed and formed, spiraling out of the lifeless body.

It coalesced into the shape I knew well, and I committed the final act of justice:

I hurled a chain around Melkor’s ghostly neck, and I dragged him away, howling, struggling, his hatred burning hotter than ever.

Beyond the Door of Night I thrust him, and turned back to him one last time.

He fell on his knees then, but by now I was numb, too deeply stunned by all that I had witnessed- and brought to pass.

“Do not leave me here- alone.”

I reached out a hand to him, and he allowed me to stroke the black locks of his hair.

“You will never be truly alone, my brother. Never. My mind will never truly leave you, know this, and never forget it.”

I raised my hand and cast the spell, and the sad, weary eyes began to close, the lids becoming heavy, and he sank onto his back, the black wings folding around his body, and he descended into the deep Sleep.

Only Varda knew my grief, and no one ever knew my shame.

*Kinslayer*.