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 plainitive. 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.
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.