thank you for all of the faves and follows!

DeLacus: yes, Mairon is my fave Maia too! ;P Finrod! He's awesome, isn't he?

Osireia: thank you so much! Yes, it's sad Draugluin had to die. *sniffles* but I can't say that Tolkien didn't have an awesome imagination when it came to villans! Oohs, you caught the catch! Good job! XD I was hoping that Sauron wouldn't seem too OOC, so I'm glad I seem to have done so. I have read the Hematic, but I actually meant a fic where a girl is taken by the villains... ;)

Chapter 4

I didn't want to look up. I didn't want to face Morgoth, or Melkor, depending on who you are. I have an odd feeling, this feeling of needing to stay away from him. Not the fact that he's evil, but something else. A strange, niggling feeling that I must hide myself from him- that he must not find out what I carry-

Wait, what I carry? What does that mean, what I carry? I don't own anything but the clothes on my back!

My hair fell over my face as a veil, and I could feel Sauron tense as we approached closer to the throne. I clutched his robes tightly, and I felt him stiffen in displeasure.

"Master." He said, presumably kneeling before the throne. There was an ominous silence.

"Why are you away from Tol-in-Gaurth?" A deep voice finally asked. Now that was a rhetorical question if I've ever heard one. Of course he knows, and of course he wants Sauron to admit his fault and grovel. Anger slowly grew in me, and I held it back with a struggle.

The voice, though, was what successfully held back my growing agitation. It was not what I expected it to sound like. I had subconsciously expected a deep, raspy voice, evil and haunting, but this voice was not like that at all. Instead, it was like the shifting, grinding ice of the Helcaraxë, ever changing in degrees of coldness or even warmth.

"Forgive me, my master. I attempted to bring Luthien to you, but I failed. Huan defeated me. I deserve your wrath." His head lowered even more in submission, and I heard a rustle of robes.

Between the chinks of my hair, I could vaguely see a black cloak enter my sight, trailing into slivers of lava that ran down the edges and disappeared with the quiet hiss of a snake as they hit the cold stone floors. A black armored foot appeared in my vision, and clinked deafeningly in the echoing halls.

"Perhaps you do. And then again, perhaps you do not." Answered the voice, growing slightly warmer. "But it seems as though you have found yourself something else. Another treasure to add to your dragon hoard?" He questioned his lieutenant in a deceptively mild tone.

Is possible, Sauron stiffened even more. "Yes, my master. I found her on the shores, an orphan by the name of Celine." He pried my fingers off of his red armor and set me down on the ground as I whimpered, deprived of his soothing heat.

"A very uncommon name." Melkor's voice was intrigued. "And such unusual hair." He added, and I felt myself being lifted up by two freezing cold hands, unconvered by any armor or gloves. They were corpse white hands, burnt black by the Silmarils. I let out a tiny cry at the icicles that shot through my whole being, leaving me gasping for breath and violently shivering.

"Strange." Melkor murmured, and sat down on his throne, setting me in his lap as Sauron had done. The hair on my wrist burned. I squirmed slightly.

"Cold." I whimpered, teeth chattering. I still refused to look up.

"Look at me." Power was laced in the tone, and despite my desperate struggles not to, I felt my head raising. Gritting my teeth, I shook my head and lowered it with difficulty. There was a surprised silence for a moment. Then a finger reached down and tipped my chin up. I stared, white-eyed and sheet white, into the face of Melkor.

Come to think of it, I never expected Melkor to look like that either. His face was pale, there were two jet-black eyes staring into mine, and two thick black eyebrows above them. He wore an iron crown that also seemed to serve as a helmet, with one metal strip coming down the middle of his forehead and ending at his nose, like one of those medieval helmets you see knights wear. The top of the crown was spiky, and three blindingly-bright, rainbow-shimmering gems were set in it proudly. The Silmarils.

I was a little too terrified to properly admire them, though, so instead I just stared back at Morgoth, feeling immensely disoriented. The thoughts foremost in my mind was: 1) oh no, he's found out, I'm in such big trouble- wait what? Why? And what do you mean, he's found out? 2) the Silmarils are pretty, but they're nothing more then gems really, even though they are important. And 3) I WANT SAURON!

"Show me." Melkor commanded, even more power laced in his tone then before. I couldn't ignore it this time.

"Show you what?" I asked, then immediately felt immensely stupid. Oh for the love of Nàmo, what's that supposed to convey as a first impression? I felt my cheeks heating up. Melkor arched an eyebrow.

"You have gall. A very good trait in a treasure, Sauron. Of that I must approve. Now come, my dear, show me what you're hiding inside." He voice became sickly sweet in the end, causing me to blink and my cheek to twitch. Meeeehhh?

"How?" I asked blankly, and he sighed long-sufferingly.

"You are hiding something inside of you, dear little one, and I must know what it is." He replied patiently with a condescending smile. Well, this is unexpected, although I will admit he does have a lot of patience when it comes to his schemes and such.

But his words had also opened up something inside of me, like released amnesia. I remembered vaguely the sensation of bottling up something, knowing that I must keep it hidden. And with that memory came the knowledge of how to control it. So, with no choice, I did. And immediately felt exposed.

When I looked down after searching inside myself and unlocking something within, I found myself shining blindingly with a bright blue-gold light like a type of flame. In a panic, I dimmed it to the point where my eyes didn't hurt, and looked back up at Melkor to see him greedily staring at me. I paled as Sauron let out a strangled gasp.

Then Melkor began to laugh, loud and hard and long, making me shake along with the whole room. "Yes Sauron, you are my beloved lieutenant indeed!" He laughed gleefully, while I shut away the light abruptly.

"You have brought to me a vessel for the secret fire of Eru." He said maniacally, smiling in a way that made me feel absolutely terrified. Wait, back up the truck. What did he just say? The secret fire- but that's in Eru himself! I remembered the words from the Silmarillion that described Melkor's search for the flame. Oh no.

So that's what Nàmo had meant by 'changes'! What had he said? 'She will be torn apart. Quite literally.' I began to hyperventilate when an idea popped into my head all of a sudden. I stilled and sat up. That idea had to have come from Eru himself, of that I am sure.

"She will be my treasure from now on." Melkor was saying, then I cut him off.

"No!" I shouted, my previous anger coming to the forefront, coupled with the new boldness that the idea had given me. Melkor raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?" He asked indulgently, a dangerous light in his eyes.

"No!" I reiterated firmly. "I am only Sauron's treasure!" Really, I don't want to be anyone's treasure, but among two evils, I'm taking the lesser. "He found me first!" I said, crossing my arms with a decided nod.

Melkor snickered. Yes, he actually snickered. "And what gives you the authority to say so, little flame?" He chuckled, raking a nail down my arm, which I batted away childishly.

"If I hold the flame of Eru Ilùvatàr himself-" I didn't miss the flinch both dark lords gave at the name- " then he must care for me. I can call on him and he will do something about my complaints." I finished triumphantly, staring at him with a challenging gleam in my eyes. Silence settled. Melkor looked a little pale.

"I hadn't thought of that." He murmured thoughtfully, looking down at me. "Fine." He finally said. "But on one condition." He warned, holding up a finger. I nearly sagged in relief. I was more than willing to bargain by this point. I never really thought of Morgoth as a pushover. Hmmm, maybe I can use that...

"You are mine for an hour every day." He said, giving me a piercing look. I thought it over. It made sense. What harm could it do?

"If in the meantime I can go anywhere I want." I demanded in return. He gave me a shrewd look.

"I am not that foolish." He retorted dryly.

"I meant anywhere as long as you can see me then. With a dragon or something." I grumbled with a pout. He raised an eyebrow.

"As long as you take one of my commanders with you." He agreed lazily, eyes sparking in glee again.

"Okay. Deal." I eyed him dubiously in return as he smiled in satisfaction.

"And my hour today will be now. Sauron, you have done well. Gothmog is waiting to report- go see to it." He dismissed his very confused and startled-looking lieutenant, who, after sending me a final look of bewilderment, bowed himself out. I already miss him.

Melkor turned back to me. "Show me." He said lazily, leaning back in his chair and tracing a finger down my side. I twitched away from it.

"That tickles." I complained, and then did as I was told. Only I let it out halfway instead of fully. Melkor didn't complain, though, so I guessed that it hurt his eyes too or something at full strength.

"Fascinating." He tipped my chin up again. "Your eyes hold the same flame." He spoke carelessly, moving his hand to my hair. I shivered. His hands were freezing, for all that his cloak was fiery.

Out of boredom, I looked up at his crown and the Silmarils in them with a blank look. I mean, yeah, I was fascinated by them since, after all, it was the Silmarils, but other than that they held really no interest in them.

"For all that they're pretty, they're not so special otherwise." I said, and then belatedly realized that I had said that aloud. Melkor raised an eyebrow at me.

"You are the first to think so." He noted.

I shrugged. "They're pretty." I reiterated. He smirked.

"Tell me, little flame, what does your name 'Celine' mean?" He asked, eyes half-hooded as he watched me.

"It means moonlight wisdom." I replied, looking up at the ceiling to see what was up there. A large, shadowy bundle huddled on a stone arch, and I blinked, wishing there was a light up there so I could see what it was.

As though summoned, my light- errr, Eru's light- began to shine upwards, hitting the shadow and illuminating it. With a high-pitched shriek, the thing fell down and then suddenly expanded, coming to a landing on the floor in front of the throne.

"Ah. It seems as though you have discovered Thuringwethil." Melkor said with a smirk.

The bat morphed into a female vampire, a black cape covering her whole body, her hair as black as midnight, her eyes a gleaming red, and fangs poking out from her upper lip. "Sauron's treasure you may be, but that does not give you the right to try to burn me to a crisp!" The bat-lady hissed venomously.

Melkor watched amusedly, saying nothing. "Well so-rry." I huffed, immediately taking a dislike to the creature. "I didn't mean to burn you at all, I was just wondering who you were. I didn't plan for the light to go up there." I grumbled.

She just huffed and stalked away after a bow to Melkor, who gave an unimpressed 'tch.' "You had better know how to defend yourself from the likes of her, Celine- you must have a new name." He added thoughtfully, studying me again.

I glared after the retreating figure in the doorway. "Light's good enough." I mumbled, and then turned back to him. My shivers had gone down with the releasing of my light, so I guessed that the 'inner flame' worked as heat too.

"Caladiel." He decided. I gazed at him blankly, and then suddenly realized that all this time, I had been speaking in Quenyä. Caladiel. That meant- "Daughter of light." Melkor declared, and then zoned out into a thought train, leaving me to decide whether I liked it or not.

Caladiel. It wasn't too bad of a name, and it made sense anyway. As long as he didn't mean his daughter of light I was fine with it. I said it out loud, trying the weight and taste and feel of it on my tongue. It felt right.

Just then, from the open doorway came a growl and a large figure stalked through, skulking up to the throne and plopping itself down comfortably at Melkor's feet. Melkor reached down and petted its head.

"Carcharoth, my pet, meet Caladiel, Sauron's treasure." Melkor said, making it lift its head and look at me interestedly.

"Never before has Sauron chosen live treasure." The huge werewolf said, looking at me. I stared.

He was ginormous. His fur was grey, tinged with some black, making me think of his ancestor Draugluin, the thought of whom made me feel a little sad. His eyes burned orange in his head, and from his huge, red-stained maw projected two particularly vicious fangs, dripping with saliva. He had a hungry air about him, but despite that and his disconcerting blood-stained jaws, looked rather impressive in a frightening way.

I let out a tiny squeak of shock. "Can it not speak?" The werewolf asked.

"Of course I can speak!" I sulked indignantly, crossing my arms with a pout. Carcharoth's chest rumbled with laughter.

"Now I see why he chose her." He snickered, and lay back down, obviously preferring to rest then talk. With a sigh, I suddenly felt very tired. My bare feet dangled off of Melkor's lap as he ran fingers up and down my spine, and I noticed that my feet were rather cut up and felt a little sore. I stared blankly at them and noticed a drop of blood drip off onto Carcharoth's fur. He stirred slightly and turned to look at my feet.

The blood wasn't from my feet, I realized, but from Sauron. I must have gotten some of it on me when I was begging Luthien to call off Huan.

"So fragile. You bleed." The werewolf said, swiping a tongue on my foot. I squirmed.

"It isn't my blood. It's Sauron's." I replied. "That tickles!" I whined, jerking in reflex and nearly hitting him on the nose. He ignored it and cleaned it off of my feet, leaving me with my feet pulled up onto Melkor's lap with a scowl. He grinned at me. I stuck out my tongue in retaliation, causing him to roll his eyes and lay back down.

Melkor said nothing, obviously lost in his scheming for elves and men and whatever else he had in mind to conquer. I was personally waiting for my hour to be up so that I could go find Sauron, who I had decided to trust.

Finally it was over. Melkor stirred himself and gave one last tug on my hair. "You may go." He said, setting me down on the floor and watching to see what I would do. I slid down next to Carcharoth and tugged on his ear, tucking away my glow.

"Can you show me 'round?" I begged, making him growl and flick his ear. With a sigh, he heaved himself up and picked me up by the scruff of my collar. "No, not that way!" I whined. He adjusted his grip to the back of my shirt so that I was hanging relatively comfortably a few feet off the ground. I rolled my eyes and gave up on the idea of having anything else better.

He began trotting down the hallways, and I felt warmth slowly creep back into my limbs, making them prickle after being numbed from the coldness for so long. We passed through a room filled with orcs that looked up from their tasks, only to scurry back to their work at the werewolf's warning snarl. Then, we finally arrived in a room that held but one thing- a pair of chains that hung from a wall.

Two figures were standing in the room, and I recognized one of them very well. The other- this was obviously Gothmog. A huge Balrog, holding a fiery whip and growling at a smirking Sauron.

"You're the one who lost the fortress to a female, Sauron." He said in a whispery, deep tone that made me shiver. Sauron's smirk dropped.

"And I'm the one who owns the most valuable thing besides the Silmarils." He said cooly in reply. Carcharoth snorted and dropped me on the floor.

"You mean this whelp of yours. Melkor sends her back." The werewolf said, causing both figures to whip towards us. Carcharoth dragged his sandpaper washcloth tongue across my face once and left, trotting away with his tail in the air. I looked hesitantly back to the two, who were blatantly staring.

"What did you do?" Sauron asked. "He never likes anyone that fast." He strode towards me.

"My feet bled." I whispered.

"Well that explains it." He noted, and stared down at me. His eyes flicked to the strand of hair around my wrist, and then to his own wrist. With a sigh, he bent down and picked me up. I immediately let out a moan of relief and curled into him, greedily sharing his heat.

"Elf blood is filling and sweet." He said absently, shifting me in his arms. I ignored the comment and sighed wearily, clutching a lock of his hair.

"I'm tired, Mairon." I whispered pleadingly, allowing a tiny bit of my glow to escape and show. Gothmog watched, clearly shocked. I continued to get drowsier and drowsier, falling into an exhausted sleep from the events of the past few days.

"Then sleep." He snapped in reply, clearly uncomfortable and confused.

"But- I want- don't leave me, please." I begged, unaccountable tears rising to my ears.

"Surely you don't expect me to cater to your every whim and carry you everywhere." He snorted incredulously. I struggled to keep my eyes unglazed in awareness.

"But I can help you." I rasped. "If you do, I can do anything you want. Please- don't leave me alone." I pleaded hoarsely. I couldn't help it. I was still an elfling, yes, but I had also been left alone for so long. What could I do but glomp onto the one person I trusted in a land of unfamiliarity and danger?

He stilled, obviously considering my request. "We shall see." He finally said decidedly.

"She calls you what?" Gothmog asked, clearly not believing what he was seeing.

"If you even try, Gothmog, lord of the Balrogs you may be but I will skin you and use you as a new flaming rug for my floors." Sauron snarled, and with a snap of his cape, turned around and smartly marched out.

I didn't care. I fell asleep, oddly comforted by the warm arms of Mairon.