He woke up. It was a strange feeling, like waking up from a beautiful, long dream. He was slowly regaining consciousness. It took a while when he finally opened his golden eyes.

He was surprised because he wasn't inside his lovely, cozy chamber. He wasn't even in his Master's tremendous stronghold, as he expected. To his surprise, he was lying on the ground. Somebody tucked his rolled-up black-red cloak under his head. Another coat served as a duvet that covered him. There was so cold. Everything smelled like fresh blood, even these two cloaks. This disgusting metallic aftertaste of blood was everywhere. Nothing unusual, the smell of the battlefield, but that time they weren't winners.

The fall was painful and spectacular. They had had no chance to win this battle with all Valas and their Maias. At last, that was only a desperate fight for life, nothing more. And now they lost everything. Valas captured Master, murdered the whole services. There was no hope for a better future for Melkor's adherences.

The stars were shining in the sky. The small fire was burning weakly, not so far from little Mairon.

The beautiful, golden almond eyes were shining. Dried blood stuck together with the shoulder-length ginger hair. Pale, alabaster complexion highlighted numerous freckles on eternally flushed cheeks. The facial features were fresh and delicate. He looked so young, like an elven teenager. Many died for his beautiful smile. But now, he wasn't smiling. He was heavily injured, and the terrible pain was moving through his whole body.

"Oh, my arm.." he whispered in horror when he looked at his left arm. The limb was bent at the elbow and located between four parts of the broken swords. Two of the parts were for the forearm with the wrist and two for the shoulder. Together these destroyed, chipped blades constructed makeshift stiffening. His arm was also wrapped in a bandage and placed in a black cloth sling. Mairon was pretty sure that bones alignment, in this case, was impossible on the battlefield. He needed at least a few major surgeries. He couldn't even bend his fingers. When he was trying, the pain came with unexpected strength.

"My Lord! " he heard a familiar voice. "I thought that you just died! I've been checking your pulse, but it was so weak...! Sometimes nothing...! They kidnapped your Master, my Lord! And your brothers! I saw this scene. They wanted to take you too, but they were sure that you had died! " The young Easterling from the recent Mairon's Guards shook his good hand. He was just as scared as his Lord.
"Are... are you fine, Yaltu...?" asked Mairon weakly. He always liked this young man. He was so thoughtful and loyal that Melkor gave him the gift of immortality.

In some way, little Maia and Yaltu were friends. It was something more than an easy soldier - commander relation. Mairon came here from Aman he didn't know a lot of life aspects. He was like a small child in this world. Inquisitive and quick-witted, as his seven brothers. They were the youngest angels and looked very similar to each other. Every fire Maia had golden almond eyes, ginger shoulder-length hair with soft waves. Their skin was so pale, like porcelain or alabaster. Frickles on the cheeks enhanced cute blushes. The nose was small, slightly upturned, and the lips created for smiling. They resembled human or elven teenagers, so cute and innocent. Melkor didn't kidnap these Maias. They wanted to come closer to the only person with whom they felt wanted and loved, like children. Children. It was obvious to Melkor, treat Maias like beloved children. Nothing more, nothing less. For him, these little flames never were servants. For Aule, they were nothing more than unwanted servants.

"Yes, my Lord! I'm so lucky. But to be honest, they wanted to kill or kidnap you, your brothers, other Melkor's Maias, and him in the flesh. They had no time for murder all humans."
"So... where are our armies now" ginger hair Maia was trying to sit, but it was impossible. He groaned softly and fell back.
"The survivors ran away... As I said, we all thought that you had died. They are not traitors, Mairon. "
"I know, I know... it was better than waiting here for death. We should go away too. "
"But where Mairon? You require the prompt assistance of a good doctor. I was trying to do my best, but you know that I'm not a good healer. But now even I see that this problem is worse. "
"It's only a broken arm... maybe in eight places as I feel, but sill it's only an arm. I will survive. I have to get up."
"Mairon, are you kidding me?! You were unconscious for three days! Maybe four. I stayed with you as I had promised. You had a high fever even now, you have it. I brought some cold water, and I used up all of it. You had convulsions and you were delirious. How would you like to get up and stand on your own? " Yaltu became concerned.
"You're right. I have no power now even for walking..." Mairon closed his golden eyes.
"You're right too. It's too dangerous here." The young man whispered and took ginger-hair friend in his arm. He did not protest. The fever rose, and he was slowly losing consciousness again.

/ to be continued