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.
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.
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.
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.
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…!”
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.