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.
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.
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.