Well here's a new story, it's a Sauron/OC fic (yeah I know SAURON!) Enjoy please read review fave and follow.
Prologue
"MAIRON STOP THIS MADNESS!"
That voice, he had not heard it for near enough an eternity. He couldn't believe it, he wouldn't believe he had heard it: her voice. But temptation thwarted him and he turned slowly round. Beneath his helmet he stared at her, he couldn't be seeing this, she couldn't be there; standing, but a few centimetres from him. Was she even real? Or was it just in his head, like the dreams that had plagued him for nearly eternity? Eriathwen looked at him, her emerald eyes were glistening with tears, but shame was also laced into her feeling. The tall, armoured figure edged forward too afraid to touch her in case she'd vanish before him.
"Dear one..."
Her voice was soft, and melted his heart. The wind caught her chestnut hair and the all-to-familiar scent of rosemary filled his senses. She was there, real flesh and blood. Every inch of her perfect beauty standing before him, standing in the blood-soaked battlefield. His voice cracked as he spoke, too filled with deep emotions that his cold heart could not convey.
"Eriathwen."
The woman met his gaze, it was harsh and cruel, but behind his eyes she could see the man she knew, the one she had loved; before Morgoth, before the lies. She took a step closer to him, not looking at the scattered remains of the five armies that had fought not hours before. Sauron lifted his metal-covered hand to stroke her cheek, but stopped curling his fingers into a fist, lowering his arm again. Eriathwen released a breath she had been holding.
"Why are you here?"
"Galadriel summoned me. She said that you were planning to kill Thorin Oakenshield and exploit Smaug's great power."
The name of the she-elf hit him bitterly. It was the elves that had taken her from him, had taken her so far away from him. Her gaze wavered against his and her delicate face was cracking with emotion.
"Mairon, you knew that this wasn't necessary. Yet you still marched armies of terrible creatures and I...you cannot see what you have become, my love."
His head jerked up at the sound of his former name, his helmet covering the fierceness from his eyes, but all the same she felt it and stepped back. Sauron couldn't bear her recoiling from him. He took a hesitant step to her and spoke with a soft voice, one that was rusted with lack of use.
"My darling, I am still the same man I was before you left...This..."
He gestured to the carnage about them.
"Was all for you, in your memory I fought."
Eriathwen looked up, only now realising how close they were.
"Then why do you hide?"
Looking at him, she raised her hands and placed them either side of the cold metal helmet. Gently she pulled it away from his shrouded face. His face was scarred, skeletal almost, his eyes blind and sunken in, dark ominous shadows around them. His lips were dry and wrinkled and his head held merely the remains of the memory of hair. He looked down, too ashamed to let her look at him directly.
"Don't look at me, I am hideous."
Eriathwen sighed, shaking her head. Her love had always admired perfection in everything, yet here he stood before her, broken and imperfect. She gently placed her palm tenderly on his cheek. Before all the observers, they watched amazed, as her touch rejuvenated Sauron. His eyes became young and a bright flaming orange, his face filled out until a proud Maiar of fine beauty stood before them, golden locks falling over his shoulders.
"You will always be beautiful to me."
He pressed his into her hand, tears filling his eyes. He cupped her hand with both of his.
"My one and only heart, forgive me...I am sorry."
"There is nothing, dear Mairon, nothing to forgive."
He opened his eyes and looked at her face. So beautiful and perfect, like the day he first met her. 6000 years earlier
Mairon was working in his workshop, hammering a long blade. He had been fashioning it for weeks now, gently heating the steel every now and then. Mairon was an expert in his art, and knew not to overwork the metal. His head snapped up when he heard the braying of a horse. He marched quickly out of his workshop to see a horse of crystal white charging from the heavens to the ground. The Ainur shook his head and folded his arms and chuckled as the gigantic beast shrunk to a normal size. He landed on the dirt and reared upwards, neighing proudly. On his back, his master sat smugly. Mairon chuckled at Oromë's antics.
"Always like to make an entrance, my friend."
The Valar laughed boomily and jumped off his mighty steed.
"It is not I who enjoys the attention, my friend, but Nahar. He will choose any great time to show off his glistening coat."
He patted the horse fondly, and he whinnied in reply to his master. Mairon rubbed his hands with the cloth he was holding and looked at his old friend.
"So what brings you to these parts, Oromë? It is strange for you to stray from Valinor so far from the hunting season. Or perhaps the elves of Gondolin have persuaded you to stay through the long winter coming?"
Oromë shook his head.
"I wish, Mairon, I wish, for the elves in that beautiful city are the most fair and the most beautiful..."
"Ah, but don't they also brew the best ale?"
"You know, that thought hadn't even occurred to me."
They pair laughed, they were friends of old. In fact Mairon was one of few Ainur, fine race of Maiar, who still spoke to the Valar.
"Seriously though, jesting aside, what can I do for you?"
Oromë sighed.
"I have brought you something, from Nienna."
"Oh..."
It was strange for the Weeping Woman to give gifts, but Mairon was always glad to receive anything. Oromë continued.
"Yes, she believed that you would benefit the most. Dear, you may come out now."
From the other side of Nahar, and without even a notice from Mairon, a slender figure moved next to Oromë. They were cloaked in a dark blue hood, and their hands were folded in front of him. The figure pushed back their hood, and Mairon found his perfect face creasing into a frown. It was a young she-elf. She had a teardrop shaped face with delicate jaw and nose, dazzling green eyes, like the emeralds he worked with, and long dark chesnut curls.
"Mairon, my friend, this is Eriathwen. She is to come and stay with you until Nienna feels her ready to live on her own."
The man lifted his head in surprise.
"I beg your pardon?"
Eriathwen looked at her feet shyly, but then raised her head.
"I'm sorry that it's not ideal for you Lord Mairon, but Lady Nienna said that you would be able to teach me the ways of this world. I have lived in with her ladyship all my life, so I don't understand this world."
Mairon began shaking his head and walking back. He was a smith, not a babysitter. He taught how to craft from steel, iron. Not who to speak to and who to avoid. Oromë gave him a harsh look and grabbed his arm. His friend took him to the side.
"Mairon, you have to do this."
"Why? Has she no family or people she could go to?"
"No she does not. Her mother was the wife of Eöl."
Mairon blinked, he knew of the Dark Elf's son, but he never knew that there was a daughter. Oromë elaborated.
"When Eöl tried to murder his son, but killed his wife, she was pregnant. Both she and the baby passed on into Mandos' Halls, but Nienna saw the unborn child and pitied her. She wept..."
"She always weeps, Oromë."
He received a slap round the head.
"This is not a joke. By crying, she saved the child and that is how Eriathwen came to us."
"Her name means alone, how very quaint."
Oromë shook his head.
"Yes, well that was Nienna's choice."
"So if her brother is still alive, why are you laying her onto me?"
"Mairon, her brother is turning to the dark. Morgoth has been travelling far and wide now, gathering whatever races he can onto his side. He will come to you, it had been forseen."
"Pah, I will not give in easily to the temptations of Morgoth."
"We know that, but we do not know what or how he'll persuade you, so it was thought best that you have something to set your mind to. Eriathwen's education of the world seemed like the best option."
Both men turned their heads to look at the young woman. She had moved and was talking quietly to Nahar, stroking his muzzle gently. Mairon sighed.
"Alright, she can stay, but only until she is ready to leave? No longer?"
The Huntsman grinned triumphantly.
"No longer. I know you're a busy man. A word of advice though, stay clear of Gondolin unless you have too, if Maeglin recognises the traits of her mother within her, he will not hesitate to remove her with his father's sword."
Mairon nodded.
"I am a man of my word, I will protect her as long as you need me to."
"Thank you, my friend."
Oromë walked over to Nahar and Eriathwen. He patted his horses neck, then turned to the girl.
"Goodbye, dear one. Mairon will protect you as long as you are with him. Listen, learn from him, do as he says. Remember you may be 2000 years old, but to him you are young. I wish you all the best and hope to see you if you return to our halls."
He hugged her gently, Eriathwen wrapped her arms around him and hugged him as she would an uncle or a brother.
"Thank you, Lord Oromë."
With that, the Valar coughed nervously then climbed onto the back of his mount. He raised a fist in farewell, then took off at a gallop. The horse charged into the heavens and then vanished behind a cloud, leaving just Mairon and Eriathwen by themselves. The young she-elf turned to Mairon, her pack in her hands. Mairon gestured to his large home.
"This way..."
Mairon's home was nothing compared to the halls in Valinor, but they were still grand. Every carving was made from his own hand and he had some of the finest workers in Gondolin come to furnish it. Eriathwen looked around at the art of the building, amazed that one person could create such beauty. But then, she had heard of tales about Mairon and his ultimate desire for perfection. Her attention was drawn to him as he spoke.
"You may walk around the entire house, just not my room or my workshop, nor infact the armoury. The gardens are just out the back and I will allow you a room that over looks them."
She nodded, knowing that he could probably see her out of the corner of his eye. Mairon ascended some stairs and led her across a large balcony until they'd reached a grand pair of double doors. He pushed then open to reveal a marvellous bedroom, fit for any wealthy visitor.
It had a large bed, covered in silk sheets of silver, a large oak dresser and chest of drawers sat in either corner, and a tall mirror overlooked into a fine bathroom. A brass tub sat right in the centre of the extra room, with untouched soaps and salts surrounding its rim.
"This will be you room, you may do with it as you please, just don't break anything."
Eriathwen, too overwhelmed for words, looked at him and nodded. She edged forward to the bed and gently ran her hand across the sheets. She turned round to see Marion walking from the room, a look of boredom etched on his face. In her heart she knew that he found her to be a waste of his time, and it stung her pride a little. The Ainur turned as he walked from the room.
"I will be working in my forge, I will see you in six hours."
And then he closed the door and left. She felt alone, more so than she had in her two thousand years of living.
TTFN x