A/N: Even though it's said that Sauron was corrupted "in the beginning", I bumped it forward for the hell of it. I've also merged content from both the Silmarillion and the Lost Tales- for example, the theft of the Silmarils and the death of the Trees is one event in the Silmarillion, but here I've adopted the latter version and made it two separate.
All appropriate rights to Tolkien.
The blows of Mairon's hammer fell timely and gracefully on the hot molten, bending it into shape with precision. But it was apparent to any of similar quality of skill that the mind of this expert crafter was not currently bestowed into his work.
His movements were not concentrated in the passion that Aulë encouraged; rather, they were estranged from his very thought.
Mairon tired of the gems and Elvish trinkets Aulë not only helped forge but enthused his pupils to create. Instead, he longed for the early days of Arda when he had aided Aulë in the formation of earth. He longed to make use of the power given to him; to raise mountains, carve valleys...all of which served a great purpose.
From his point of view, the Elves held a lowly fascination for shiny objects and the Valar were more than happy to do whatever needed to please them, wasting their own potential in the process.
Only one other seemed dissatisfied as he was, and Mairon struggled to overlook this. But he had to admit to himself that Melkor intrigued him. He was different, he was dark, he was mysterious...unpredictable. Mairon, however, knew the line between duty and wrongdoing. He had been witness to several conversations on the topic of Melkor - he was a liar, deceiver; nothing from his lips could ever be trusted. Even now he was under strict supervision and the elves were warned to be wary of him. While Manwë chose to think better of his brother, Mairon observed the hatred Melkor reserved for the children of Eru.
He had not even been aware of Melkor's presence until now. In alarm, he nearly dropped his hammer, staring back into those cold black eyes that held something he could find nowhere else, before turning away and feigning intense interest in his craft.
This was not the first time that Melkor had entered the smithy, but this time was somehow different. Mairon could feel Melkor's eyes on him, watching him work with the attentive face of his that often curiously resembled a pout.
Mairon suddenly wished more than ever that he was forging something worthy and demanding of respect; nonetheless, he began showing off what he could in front of the Vala.
When Melkor realized his efforts, a pleased grin leered over his face. "Impressive." His sharp voice cut through the hiss of steam off metal.
Melkor yearned for the radiance and beauty of the jewels denied him by the Noldor, unlike Mairon, who saw little use for such pettiness without a practical use.
"I have nothing like it," Melkor said, indicating to the chain of gems newly forged. Mairon could see the lust in his gaze.
Mairon cooled off the chain, tested its strength, presented it to Melkor.
The latter simply stared, oblivious to the offer. When he did understand, he took it with some uncertainty, avoiding eye contact. "...Thanks."
Mairon shrugged it off, beginning on new tasks Aulë had given him. From his peripheral vision he viewed Melkor and pitied him some in that moment: a drifter, misplaced in Valinor, clutching the chain as if it would be abruptly taken from him.
An awkward tension built, yet Melkor did not seem to mind. Mairon was tempted to ask an endless array of questions: What was it like to rebel? To have others below you, subject to your will? To take what is there and pervert it to your own liking?
But he could not bring himself to ask such things in the sanctity of Valinor.
But Melkor held no regards for limits. They were simply there to be broken. "You could be so much more, Mairon..." He began slowly, unsure how the Maia would react.
Mairon glanced up at his urging, already snared in the cunning of Melkor. Now that the Vala was certain he had his full attention, he continued,
"A smith of your standard should not be limited to the crafts of Elves." He stepped closer and Mairon could see his own vibrant eyes staring back at him from the eyes of Melkor. It made him feel small...yet somehow honored.
"After all, you are one of us. Not one of them." As his voice scorned over the last word, his malicious grin returned, drawing in its prey.
Mairon was no fool. He was well-aware of the situation he was in and the tactics Melkor was using on him. It was working though, and he let it.
A fire began to burn deep inside him, a flame he had tried long to ignore. Melkor was feeding it desperately now, lest it extinguish and be gone forever. He fed it less with words and more with emotion; just as he sparked the emotion of the Noldor, inviting thoughts of greed and pride, he breathed dreams of great power and prestige to Mairon.
"I will deal with the Elves," Melkor whispered to him. "Aid me whenever I require it, and I will give you control wherever you so desire it."
The flames ignited with an intense fervor, burning Mairon from the inside-out. Now doubt threatened to douse them if he should agree to Melkor's demands, for fear that he should be heard by the Valar.
Melkor identified this uncertainty, teasing Mairon with a wicked smile, daring him.
With a response required of him, Mairon broke out of his trance and gave a subtle nod. He returned to his worktable, realizing that he had unconsciously wandered away from it.
And not a moment too soon. Aulë entered the smithy, swinging his hammer by the handle, humming to himself. He did not notice Melkor for a brief moment but when he did, it invoked a fury in him. Melkor quickly stashed the chain away.
"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT COMING IN HERE?! Quit distracting him!" Aulë bellowed, referring to Mairon, who continued with his task as if nothing had happened.
Paying little heed to Aulë, Melkor departed out the door, but not before casting one last glance at Mairon, and it was enough to bind the Maia to his will.
Aulë complained then to Mairon concerning Melkor, to whom the Maia pretended to express contempt; but all the while the fire blazed hot and intensely within him.
Mairon almost felt disappointment when Melkor was absent for a time. He was spoken of less and Mairon was hesitant to inquire his whereabouts, lest he attract suspicion. Amongst the Elves there was strife and less enthusiasm for gems. Instead, the forging of weaponry began. It was evident that this must be the result of Melkor's doings, yet the variation was stimulating and Mairon entertained himself with the production of shields, swords, and armoury. When Melkor did make an appearance it was at his doorstep. The Vala had clothed himself in a black mist, making himself nearly undetectable. He pushed his way into Mairon's abode, where seconds before he had been forging a set of armour. Melkor approached it and a mischievous gleam came into his eyes.
"I did well, did I not?"
Mairon did not beat around the bush. "Where have you been?"
"Out planning. Did you not hear?"
"They tell me little."
Melkor hid a smirk. "The other Valar are out on the search. The Noldor complained about me."
"What are you planning?"
"My revenge, skilled Maia. And when I go through with it, you must help me escape."
Mairon nodded. "I will."
"Swear."
"I swear, Lord Melkor," he promised.
It was only natural for the bringer of distrust to experience it himself, yet he was satisfied with Mairon's response.
"You will be second only to me," Melkor assured him, delighted to see desire burn anew in the eyes of his servant once it was spoken.
Before his leave, Melkor demanded another favor of Mairon.
"Report important information to me."
Mairon blinked. "How would I-"
"Anything that you relate to me will remain hidden," Melkor stated impatiently, irritated that his abilities had been questioned.
Mairon bowed swiftly. "Of course, My Lord."
The obedience of Aulë's great Maia heartening to him, Melkor made haste towards the mountains, his path a dark blur.
Mairon stared after for a time, half-expecting the Vala's shape to reappear. While he was pleased to hearken to Melkor's word, he was not yet willing to choose between Melkor and Aulë.
It was the third day of the celebration of Samirien; Mairon mingled with the other Maiar, if not less than willingly. Ossë's complaints of Ulmo were typical and irritating, Eönwë could have thought himself superior because he served Manwë, Melian sang too much. Mairon had a habit of sinking back into the shadows and simply observing. It was while he did this that a spirit of Mandos appeared before him. At first Mairon assumed it had not come for him, but it beckoned to him. He followed it with some uncertainty out of Taniquetil and from Valmar.
"Who sent you?" Mairon called.
"Melkor."
It spoke no more, and neither did Mairon. They only stopped when they joined a group of other spirits and Melkor, hiding in the mountains. Each had armfuls of Elvish jewelry. The Silmarils sparkled the brightest, partly hidden in Melkor's clothing. His hands were scarred black.
Mairon stared. "What have you done?" There was no anger in his tone, only surprise.
Melkor looked guilty. "Help us escape, Mairon. Who is in Taniquetil?"
Mairon frowned as he pondered escape options, as he had before when Melkor first requested his help. "Everyone, except for Mandos and-"
"Damn it."
"Oromë has a stable of horses..."
Melkor made a face. "Take us there."
The horses were not calm in the presence of Melkor; this frustrated him greatly because it bought precious time. "Useless animals," he cursed.
Mairon put a hand out to the one nearest him, talking softly to it for comfort. When it had calmed enough, Mairon mounted the horse with ease and patted down its flank. Melkor watched with the familiar pout in his features and it occurred then to Mairon that it was actually an expression of jealousy. He nearly laughed. Instead, he dismounted and offered the horse to Melkor, who clambered ungracefully onto its back. Mairon stood back while the rest of the group managed to mount a horse. Melkor stared at him expectantly before laughing.
"No, I suppose you will stay with Aulë."
Mairon fought back the urge to drop everything and ride with him then, for Melkor looked the most desirable in that moment, no matter how awkward. He only smiled in response, waving them off. Shielded in a cloak of shadow they rode off, a wild fire visible in Melkor's eyes, the same as the one which flickered a response in Mairon's, though he stayed behind.
He did not expect to hear of Melkor in Valinor again after the death of Finwë and the theft of the Silmarils, especially now that he was declared an outlaw. But fate had it otherwise, for little time passed after the first crime of Melkor that a black shadow passed over Valinor once again, and while the others did not immediately recognize it, Mairon had. He never did understand why Melkor destroyed the trees; they had served a practical use, after all. In the end he simply accepted the act as an aspect of his volatile personality and his constant need to rebel.
From past secret meetings was Mairon able to pick out the form of Melkor from the shadows of Ungoliant, and now his mind was made. Little time was left before the Vala would vanish from Valinor. Only one voice held him back, and it was his own.
Why give up everything you have, everything you are? You are a skilled and respected smith of Aulë...
But he refused to think of Aulë now.
The shadows morphed now as they approached him. Mairon was hardly aware of his situation, of being swept along with them, until he too flew beside Melkor and the spirits loyal to him, fleeing the land of gods.
And to the other Ainur, he was corrupted, an unfortunate victim of Melkor; for lies and betrayal were things only Melkor could be capable of, of which Mairon was not.
But Sauron was.