Written with my husband amidst much laughing and hilarity.
Warning: Smut ahead – don't read on if you don't like it!
In a deep dungeon specifically designed to be impenetrable to any creature, even the Valar themselves, the Dark Lord cast the elven maiden roughly upon the floor.
She lay dazed for a minute and then began to speak.
"I will not hear your pathetic mewlings," he said in a voice so cold that icicles seemed to form on Turralye's heart. "Your opportunity has passed. You will receive no mercy again."
Then, he froze and closed his fiery eyes. The elf's entreaties fell on deaf ears. Legrace's call shook him to the core. Never had he sensed such pain from her. Do nothing, remain there he tried to tell her. For I shall come. The communication was somehow flawed, and he was not certain what she was going to do.
"Contemplate your fate, foolish creature," he said to Turralye with a demonic grin. "For those who chose to play with fire must eventually get burned.'
Slamming the iron door, he sealed it in a veil of secrecy before moving swiftly to intercept Legrace. Drat the woman! Where was she? He followed the ink they shared and strode unseeingly across the party to the entrance hall and the main doors.
Without a word, the attendants quailed and pointed after her. Half a league away and moving slowly. He summoned his Fell Beast and turned to snarl at the lady Yavanna who had also emerged from the Tower. "Do not interfere in this!" he growled low in his throat.
Before the lady could reply, the heartiest grooms brought his winged beast and he leapt onto the foul steed that had served him many times before. With a shriek, the best reared and wheeled into the sky. Only a moment before they overtook his lady. Somehow, she seemed not to notice his approach until the huge beast descended to earth directly in front of her.
She sat and stared at him in utter shock and confusion even as he dismounted and strode over to her side. Tears! his mind screamed, for he had not seen her weep since the First Age on Middle-earth. Heads will be set on the spikes on the Black Gate for this! he swore viciously. Pulling her down into his grip, he demanded "What happened!"
Wallowing in her misery, Legrace didn't sense his approach. The appearance of the Dark Lord on his steed, with his black hair streaming in the wind, she felt her heart lurch violently against her ribcage. Incapable of rational though, she merely watched as he approached her. She knew his look well: he was furious.
Then, suddenly, he was holding her by the shoulders and glaring at her. She tried to form words, to speak, but noting would come. With a sob, she embraced him.
"What happened?" he repeated a little less fiercely as he closed his arms about her.
She buried her face against his neck. "Do not ever leave me that way again!"
"Leave you?" He petted her hair as he considered her words. "You are the one who is leaving."
"Why did you leave me to face Manwë and Aulë alone?" she sobbed.
"Alone? Was not Ganim there to aid you? For a moment, I though he was Varda! Besides, I had no doubt that you could handle those humorless Valar."
She lifted her head and gazed seriously into his eyes. "Why did you abandon me that way?"
He met her gaze unflinchingly. "I had to deal with that Elf maiden."
Pulling slightly back, she stared at him, her eyes wounded. The flame of joy and love that was her essence had been completely transformed into pain. "You abandoned me… betrayed me…. For another woman?"
A vicious scowl appeared on his face. "No! That's not what it means!" He glared at her. "You cannot seriously believe such a thing!"
She said nothing but looked down.
He reached to turn up her chin to him. "There can never be another woman, Legrace. You know that."
Still, she continued to gaze at him with her mournful eyes.
"Nothing has ever come between us," he reminded.
"This has. You have put this between us and you must remove it."
He let go of her and stood looking at her. "I shall."
Legrace took a deep breath. "Kill her."
Although her words and the intensity with which she spoke them managed to surprise him, no doubt entered his mind. His eyes smoldered and he nodded curtly, then he lifted her with one arm. The free hand slapped her horse, thus sending her back to the stables. Holding her easily, he leapt back onto his Fell Beast as clasped the black reins. Legrace clung to his neck, but they were back at the Tower momentarily.
Even when he dismounted, he bore his lady to the door. Yavanna waited there with a sickeningly sweet smile and he nearly blasted her with hatred; however, the nauseatingly good Vala obviously cared deeply for Legrace and was merely concerned with her.
"If you REALLY want to help her, you might think about keeping that bulldog of a husband on your leash," he sneered as politely as possible. He didn't bother to stop but pushed tight past her. "I HEAR you are very good at it."
Yavanna's outrage and anger was immediate, but the warm, arousing sound of Legrace's laughter put an immediate end to that. The Dark Lady threw her hood back and grinned back at her over her husband's shoulder. "Pay him no heed. But perhaps you might distract Aulë from us…?"
Yavanna's reply was lost as the doors swung shut behind them. Once inside, he was able to disappear with her and return to the dungeons. He set Legrace down as his howl of impotent fury echoed throughout the Tower. Gone! How? Impossible!
Then, he stood motionless and an evil grin spread across his face. He turned to Legrace with devilish darkness in his eyes. "Come with me. We shall find her." He took his lady by the hand and led her quickly after the escaped Elf who had foolishly revealed herself and her secret to him.
Spirits lightening, Legrace laughed as she ran hand-in-hand with her lover. It was worth, almost, the horror that she had had to face a short time ago. Why, it was almost like going back long before the Counting of Time, when they had been young and newly espoused, and had lived and loved on the fresh, new fields of Arda. How could such a thing have been lost? Yet, the greatest of Eru's gifts endured and remained inviolate, and they still dwelt in the blessedness of their love. Even though, the hardships and experiences during all their Ages living apart from the other Ainur seemed to have altered them a bit and sharpened them both, so that the others who knew only the peace and unbroken bliss of Aman saw something slightly wild in both of them. Indeed, Legrace often remarked after returning from a trip to visit their children in the City of Valmar that it was like being always in a baby's playpen: safe from danger but limited and boring.
She laughed aloud when she wondered how the Valar would react if she told them that their Blessed Realm was nothing more than a big playpen. At the sound, her beloved stopped and turned to her, and his eyes held a familiar burning look that always served to weaken her knees. She exalted at being the object of such desire.
"Lady, you know how to tempt a man beyond endurance," he muttered in a tone that would have sent innocents scampering away, and then he delighted her by taking her in his arms and kissing her soundly. At that precise second, the clatter of dainty hoofs echoed in a nearby passage. Both their heads swung quickly towards the noise, then back to stare, wide-eyed at each other.
Then, they grinned at each other: Legrace in merriment, the Dark Lord in devilry before they clasped hands again and raced after the sound.
The Lord of the Dark Tower stopped and closed his eyes. He was listening feeling, for none, not even his Legrace, knew the Tower and the monstrous subterranean mazes blasted into the very skeleton of the earth as he did. Now, he could see where the pathetic creature was headed. There was a chance; he would attempt to cut her off before she reached the Great Hall again. Still, those Valar were about….
Hatred bloomed in him, intense and terrifying. If necessary, he would fight Manwë, but he would slaughter that abomination, that asinine ungulate who imagined she could escape him. No, the stupid creature had ensured her own death when she had chosen to remain in his presence rather than flee. The silly girl had fallen into the same lethal trap that had claimed so many other innocents, the belief that they could somehow touch him, move him, reform him. Ha! But he had let her! His self-loathing swelled for a moment: that inconsequential piece of fluff, he had allowed her to reach through him and harm Legrace. Bitterly, the hatred swelled in him like the foul bile that spilled from the orcs he slew for sport. Die she must, and swiftly, for if he attempted to draw the act into excruciating torture, he knew that the Valar would likely rescue her while some life remained. Usually, he enjoyed to leave maimed creatures alive; however, Legrace had pronounced the sentence, and nothing would impede him now!
The only thought that gave him pause was Manwë. True, the Lord of the Valar had grown fat and soft in the eons he had sat upon Taniquetil, but he was still to be feared. Now, though, it was obvious that with Legrace beside him in her ferocious tigress mood, even Manwë would prove no obstacle. The only rogue element was Aulë. What would his old master do? Although he considered the Smith a great doddering fool, there was still a sliver of admiration and affection for the fellow. Well, perhaps Yavanna would deal with him.
He began to lead Legrace very quickly again. There was time. If he could just cut off that repulsive creature before she found her way out of the labyrinth…
Immense love and joy filled Legrace and buoyed her until her feet almost didn't reach the ground. An adventure together at last! So long had they been mired in the routine of their life at the Tower that, despite the earth-shattering passion they shared, Legrace had often sought entertainment and society among the Elves. Not so now! Not since he had gone to serve the dull and humorless Melkor had they behaved so blithely together. The Ages melted away, and even the Danger of the angry Valar melted away. Legrace was an embodiment of Eru's joy and love and could never retain any of the darker emotions. Even their quarry concerned her no longer.
Letting go of her hand, he shot ahead, swearing in his foul Black Tongue. She grinned and darted after him, but she was laughing too hard to keep up. There was some noise, some commotion. She paused in wonder, then hurried after him.
The passage led back to the ground floor and eventually to the Great Hall. When Legrace had followed her eternal lover into the Hall through the little side door, she froze and stared at the scene before her.
All the guests had huddled on the far side of the room. The pretty little pony was cornered near the refreshment tables far from escape. As he advanced upon her with an evil laugh, the Lord of Mordor sealed the doors with a gesture. The loud boom reverberated and some of the women screamed. An uneasy shuffling was heard. The pony's hooves tapped upon the stones of the floor as she moved away from the hideous shadow that grew before her with every step.
Pity for the frightened creature smote Legrace: she immediately reached out to probe her. Her great sin had been only of pride and vanity, for she had imagined that she could have some effect on the one whom she knew as Sauron the Terrible. The name raised Legrace's hackles, for she was one of the few who still used his true name. Now Legrace could see a funny, twisted horn on the soft head. The poor little thing was harmless, though, and did not deserve such an ignoble end.
Before she could act, however, the heavy Main Doors were smashed open and all jerked their heads to see, all except the Dark Lord who was stalking his trapped prey.
Tiny, she was, and inconsequential. Delicate to the point of being toy like. The very sight of her made him hate her even more, but his hate was tinged with scorn and disgust. He hated weak things, despised helplessness, longed to crush anything vulnerable. It was strength he respected and admired, strength in both body and mind, and the pitiful animal that trembled in his sights was beneath all contempt. Not even worth my spit, he though, but Legrace had directed him, and her will would be done.
He had not held out much hope for accomplishing his task without a fight and when he hear the loud crash of the doors, there was no need to look to see what had happened. He knew. He was not surprised when the Lord of the Valar bellowed at him. Really, how the mighty can be so concerned with such a pathetic creature! Baring his teeth in a feral manner, he turned to face the Ruler of Arda.
Though angry, Manwë began to speak, but this was beyond words now. He was alone: Aulë and Yavanna were nowhere in sight. Perhaps there was a chance, for Manwë was fat and bloated with the excesses of his easy life in Valinor. Whatever, he WOULD NOT FAIL! With a vicious snarl, he pounced upon the most powerful being in the universe.
Legrace's black eyes grew round and her breath became short. Was he mad? Would he take on all the Valar to abide by her wishes? What was she to do? Her beloved had surprise on his side and was strong and fit; unfortunately, Manwë's powers were unmatched, now, in the world, and it was only a matter of time before he gained the upper hand. Eru, help me, she thought. What shall I do?
The Dark Lord had thrown the other to the ground, but the Vala quickly gained the upper hand. Legrace had to take a long calming breath. After that, she smiled sweetly and began to sing.
Softly at first, her song reached out in delicate tendrils of power. Slowly, even as he throttled her husband, the fine web of enchantment skittered across the floor and began to envelop Manwë like a growing, living thing. Long unheard in Aman had been the voice of the Dark Lady, and irresistible was she to any whom she sought to charm. Manwë proved no different than any other, be he Elf, Man, or Ainu. He released his enemy and turned to her. Indeed, against any show of strength or power, he would have been able to retaliate, but the insidious, melancholy, seductive song of the lady seeped painlessly into the chinks in his defenses. He rose, stared at her, then came to her as one under a spell.
First, he shook his head to clear it. Then, he coughed violently. Realizing, however, that there was nothing that could now stand in his way, the Master of Mordor crowed in triumph and regained his feet. The silly unicorn was still cowering by the tables, too stupid to even run away. Mad with bloodlust, he seized a knife from one of the roast hams and rushed at the unprotected creature even as the Vala was beguiled by Legrace's seduction.
The horse like creature whinnied as he threw her to the ground and struggled briefly. For some reason Legrace's song had stopped abruptly, and Manwë was hurtling towards him with a cry of grief and rage. It was too late. He held her still with one arm and raised the knife. He was going to enjoy this. His hand was checked, however, by the sound of a voice ringing through the chamber like a trumpet. He turned, startled, but did not release his prey. Manwë had frozen in mid-stride as well.
As she drew the man she detested with the arts that she had perfected over many long ages, Legrace grew more troubled with the events that she had set in motion in a moment of pain and unbearable grief. In the end, she could not go on, and when her song stopped, Manwë was freed from her spell. Still, he would not be in time to save the delicate unicorn.
"No!" she cried. "Stop! Please, do not do it!"
All action froze, and Her husband's magnificent eyes swung to her, the madness and passion of murder melting and being replaced by a questioning annoyance. Manwë also turned back to her.
"This creature is so beautiful, and she cannot harm me." Now, her voice was soft and rich, as always, and both males and females in the room shuddered to hear it. "Please release her, my love. I do not wish this."
The knife fell out of his hand and clattered to the floor. The preposterous, peacock-pretty creature he let out of his murderous grasp. Aulë and Yavanna had come too late and now stood watching in the heavy, thick silence. The sound of the frivolous half-horse getting up broke it. How he hated that thing! She did not deserve to live! Something so completely bereft of sense, reason, intellect- even the instinct for self preservation! No, she deserved death.
Ignoring everything else except the huge, dark, emotional eyes of Legrace, he stared across the room. By the Void, he had been willing to kill or die for her! The fickle desires of women!
He wanted to be disgusted and succeeded somewhat; however, the passions and emotions that swirled through him nearly took control but he fought it. Immense, pressing physical need for her was nearly overwhelming him.
Obviously, she recognized it and knew there would be no niceties, there would be no time for going to privacy or allowing the guests to depart. And she would submit! For once in the eternity they had dwelt together- but it was too much. This was too uncharacteristic for the genteel and refined public face of Legrace (even though he knew her passions as well as she did).
With a strangled cry of frustration, the Lord of Mordor strode from the room. He saw nothing and nearly mowed down a servant who stood gaping at him. His disappeared from the Hall and the darkness went with him.
Watching the love of her life struggle with his feelings, Legrace was torn herself. She had used him badly, but she had not been able to help herself, for she had been ruled by her passions. The look he had shot her -- she licked her lips in anticipation, for there was certainly no force to stop what was going to happened now, nor Vala, Maia, Elf, nor Mortal.
Somehow, he controlled what had before been uncontrollable. He stalked from the room, and she regretted all that had passed in an instant and wondered what she could do to remove all memory of this bizarre night.
Seeing the Lord of the Valar helping the foolish creature who had got less than she deserved for her silly ego, Legrace's temper go the best of her.
"Manwë Súlimo, all-knowing Ruler of Arda, you defile all that you touch," she said in a clear low voice. "You forced the others of your kind to abandon this garden of Middle-earth and do nothing in your Blessed Realm but eat and watch our trials and pain from the obscene comfort of your mansion. You left this earth to the mercy of foul Melkor and refused to hear my pleas. By your act, you doomed millions to torture and death. Millions of Elves, Mortals and other creatures who deserved no such thing. And yet you lifted no finger in defense of any creature upon this once fair garden until tonight. One maiden kisses you and you are ready to commit murder in her defense where all the hosts of Middle-earth were left to slaughter! I will never understand the motivations of men's lusts, but I say this of you: you have sunk lower in my eyes that the foul beast Melkor, for at least he made no pretense of goodness and redemption as you falsely do. I curse your name before Eru and the creatures of the Universe and the Void, and I shall do so again when the Moment of Eru's judgment is upon us!"
What could one expect from creatures who had never known pain or grief or compassion, who had never known loss, who had never had children, who had never dwelt in the world? In a way, she was sorry for them, for though they had never suffered, they had also never truly lived. Though she was taller than all the other females of the Ainur and she stood unflinchingly in front of the Valar, hoping for the pain of physical blows to drive out her emotional pain, Legrace seemed somehow delicate and lost and melancholy in her rich blue traveling clothes and cloak.
"For thousands of centuries you have sat in your mansion leaving the helpless creatures of this world bereft to be smashed about by foolish chance. And what makes you come to this place that you decreed the Ainur forsake? Not the suffering of innocents or the prayers of those who hope and wait for some intervention. You come to a party to which you were not invited at a place where you know you are unwelcome. Why break such a long time without a visit to Middle-earth in order to visit the home of a Maia that you dislike? For no good reason, I fear.
"No, Manwë, my love life is not your concern, and nothing that dwells upon this earth is a concern of yours. In the depths of the black pits, thousands now writhe in torment, and do you make any effort to relieve them? No, for they are no concern of yours. The one creature you attempt to save is a ripe maiden infatuated with you. In the end, you saved not even her. I saved her. I have saved some thousands in my life here, which is more than you can claim. Whatever my motivations, I have done some good among those whom you do not protect."
She drew in a sigh. "You would view this differently if the situation were reversed. What say you, Manwë, how would you feel if something threatened the incomparable Varda, if she was to be removed from your side forever? And good Aulë, you wept bitterly over those you created: could you bear to have your lovely Yavanna destroyed? And you, Yavanna, what if Aulë were to be removed from the world? And what if this thing, this horror and doom, were preventable? Preventable… yet no one would help you to prevent it? Bitter indeed would be your grief in your struggle to preserve the one you loved if you knew it could not be accomplished alone. I expect no compassion from you for me, for indeed you have shown no compassion for the millions who have lived and suffered and died on this wild land of Middle-earth. But if you think what it must be like to know your beloved will be torn from you never to be met again? Perhaps you might then imagine what grief is, and you may imagine a fraction of the pain that has been felt in the world since the Valar went into hiding far away."
She examined her simple wedding ring. "My heart shall be cleaved in two, but my life shall not end. I shall dwell alone afterwards, but I will never regret anything I have done in my life, for I have lived and loved and danced and striven for something good in this dangerous horror that our Garden has become. On that day, when you see me in misery from your unassailable stronghold, you may rejoice that I have lost everything, but you may also think of what it would be like to lose your spouse. Perhaps then you will wonder how different the world would have been if you had taken the trouble to do some good here instead of surrendering it to cruel fate."
It was hopeless. Those who had never suffered could never understand. She closed her eyes and located her husband who was working out his frustrations torturing and decapitating in the secret depths of his dungeons where even she could not always find him. Exactly where she expected and better left uninterrupted for the moment.
The hundred orcs decapitated, he threw down his sword and wiped his brow. The physical exercise always served to calm his rage, he thought, pleased. Still, he wondered how the Valar were faring against Legrace. The thought of her brought a smile to his face. Never could he remain angry at her for long. Truly, she was always the balm for his soul no matter how bad things became.
His lusts momentarily assuaged, his thoughts returned to her longingly. Who else could manipulate Manwë that way? He grinned to recall it. Legrace…. Impulsively, he set off again towards the Great Hall where he did not doubt that she had everything under complete control.
Hovering near the door, he grinned evilly as he observed her in action. Manwë was nowhere in sight; obviously she had already driven him away with her sharp tongue. Now, poor Aulë was cowering under the verbal attack. Ah, Legrace! She possessed some fearsome, untapped power that could only be guessed at. Certainly, she had no comprehension of it herself. What would happen when she realized what she was capable of?
Unable to contain himself any longer, he strode purposefully over to her. Her eyes fell upon him and her face lit with joy, her words trailed off. Without saying a word, he went to her. The fire he felt was held tightly in check as he turned her face up to him and kissed her lightly. When he lifted his head and gazed at her again, a deep flush had risen in her face and her eyes held dark promises. That was enough. With a little growl, he swept her into his arms and bore her off towards the door.
Laughing and hugging his neck, she leaned to kiss his ear, and he felt an involuntary shiver followed by the rise in gooseflesh all over his body. He had been waiting to do this for hours, and when they had reached the entry hall, he again disappeared with her to a doorless room where no other creature had entry.
She had been concentrating on nuzzling his ear and neck and was surprised when he set her down among various pillows of blue and violet satin. Disentangling herself, she gazed up at him, but he was busy unfastening the complicated clasp that held her cloak at the throat.
It was odd how gentle he could be when he wished, she thought, then he had pushed the velvet cloak off and his hands were heavy on her shoulders. For a moment, their eyes met, and the whole room began to smolder and smoke. With amazing skill, he removed her shoes and was patient beyond belief as he unhooked all the tiny fasteners at the back of her gown. It was a wonder none of them were torn off.
When he was done, she pushed his roaming hands away and slipped her own arms out, then wiggled the garment down off her hips and then completely off. When she had tossed it to the floor and looked back at him, she discovered that his eyes were devouring her. In her mad rush earlier, she had not changed her underclothes, she still wore a delicate, gossamer fine chemise, nearly transparent and extraordinarily low cut to be worn under her fashionable neckline.
He reached for her with a growl, but she laughed and held him off. "You will make yourself crazed, my love. Take off your tunic and boots first."
Despite his massive, powerful build, he moved with unstudied grace. Like a predator, she eyed his brawny shoulders, arms and chest as he nearly tore his shirt in his haste. Then, he froze when he looked at her. A slow smile spread across his face; his pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked more black than blue. Yes, she knew that look and the electricity crackled between them.
Ignoring his hungry gaze, Legrace reached to brush her fingertips against his shoulders and throat to the thick black hair of his chest. He shivered and tensed all his muscles, for now she was allowing her fingernails to graze the sensitive skin on his chest and arms. How long could she hold him immobile this way, she wondered, but in truth, she had never had the patience to find out. Instead, she leaned to kiss him and found herself seized in his arms and then crushed against him in a mad embrace.
The scent, the feel, the taste of her was maddening, overwhelming, the most intoxicating sensation he had ever experienced. As he held her against him, so soft and warm, every sense, every nerve ending, every particle of his being was aware of her. His hand slipped along her thigh, sliding the hem of her silk up to her hip.
"Legrace," he muttered, his mouth warm against the ear. "I shall have to rip it off if you do not help."
"No need for that." Drawing herself slightly back from him, she eased the clingy garment up and off over her head. "Although I might like to try it when I am wearing something less expensive. It might be exciting."
Surrendering with a groan of desire, he buried his face against the fragrant warmth of her breasts. She laughed breathlessly and put her arms about him as she lay back among the pillows. As usual, since time immemorial, he was her willing slave.
The Dark Lord of Mordor certainly enjoyed slow torture! The man was going to drive her mad before he gave her any satisfaction, Legrace imagined wildly as she squirmed under his ministrations. By the Flame, he knew how to use his hands and mouth! Arching her back and crying out incoherently, she was ready to beg him to release her from this exquisite torment. To no avail, though, for he continued to tease her slowly and methodically, knowing exactly where and how she liked to be touched.
"You are mine, Legrace, mine alone," he panted raggedly in her ear.
"Yes, yes," she murmured mindlessly, opening her eyes and gazing pleadingly at him. "My love… now… please…"
There was no need for her to repeat her tremulous request, for her Dark Lord could deny her nothing.
Entwined in Legrace's soft limbs and spinning dizzying close to losing himself completely, the Dark Lord fought to control himself a bit longer during the physical coupling. As she abandoned herself to the sensations, his Beauty enticed him even more. No stranger was he to her magic, and she wielded it unknowingly, for in complete surrender, the gentle, insidious, irresistible tendrils of power seeped invariably into every joint and crack and weakness.
Truly, any man who willingly made love to her would be forever trapped in her snares, and even as he knew and fought against it, she opened her eyes and gazed at him with love and trust and hazy, unfocused passion. As ever, he was enslaved, but not only by the unmeasured depths of her power but also by something far stronger, the first and last of Eru's gifts, the flame, the love that remained intact and inviolable despite all that had occurred in his life.
In the wild tumult of emotions that had torn at her soul during the evening, Legrace was unable to subdue the things that she hid from him, the things that could hurt him. In truth, so much did she need him physically and emotionally, that she forgot the need to protect him and all else of concern. The flame still burned between them as brightly and purely as ever, for it was one thing that would never change or falter. Relinquishing all, even her own identity, she welcomed the exquisite act of physical union that seemed to shake the Tower and rend the very earth.
When she was aware and before she slept, she held the unmoving form of her beloved as he lay heavy and spent atop her. Stroking his powerfully muscled back, she wondered at something she had never before known: he was sobbing against her neck.
Cradling the sleeping woman in his arms, the Dark Lord's mind was racing. Never before had he known her to suffer so greatly from her emotions, and at the moment of the joining of their bodies, their souls had mingled. For once, he had felt what she felt, he had known what she knew. Now, he could not stop thinking about it. He wondered what she had felt and known, what he had imparted to her.
She stirred a little and snuggled closer without waking. As he stroked the dark red hair that was strewn everywhere, strange thoughts impressed themselves upon him. Not new thoughts, though, old thoughts, ancient thoughts. Things that had not crossed his mind since… How long? So distant, such a different world that at first he only recalled it in flashes of suppressed memory.
He recalled the day that they had been wed and they had first sung together. How long had it been since he had sung with her? Back during the Shaping of the World, perhaps. How young and earnest he had been then, he thought with a grin, how everything had made him stand back in wonder. Those days, when Tulkas and Legrace had driven everyone mad with their ceaseless banter and had made even Mandos laugh. No one had ever been able to resist her, the ruby-haired lady who exuded rapture and affection. Once, she had got Ulmo to let her walk upon the surface of his seas, and she had run, laughing and barefoot, across the rolling white capped breakers and the rising and falling swells with their immense dormant power.
She shivered slightly, and he pulled the covers up over her shoulder. Now, her frequent thoughts of their children were part of his consciousness as well. When had he last seen them? Long before the Counting of Time had begun, Ages and Ages ago. Could he still remember what they looked like? A bittersweet grief squeezed his heart so suddenly that he gasped in pain and his eyes teared. Abandoning his own children…. But it had been necessary, and they had been grown. He gritted his teeth. Of course he knew what they looked like, every time he looked in the mirror he saw himself but he saw also his son and daughter, for they had been born in his image. Their characters were much like Legrace's but their looks were his.
No, their looks had been his. Despite all Legrace's attempts to keep him in his original physical form (and, to his own amazement, her powers were ever waxing), the endless evil and debauchery of his life had taken their toll and he was a dark and appalling spirit, even in his fearsome beauty. No, they looked like he had, but they had been conceived and born when he had still been….
Legrace shifted again, slightly. Almost like a child, she slept, vulnerable and trusting, content in what she considered the safest place in all Eä: his arms. Was there any other living thing that had ever existed who could rest so happily in his embrace? he thought cynically and was momentarily choked with self-loathing. No, through everything, always, she had been the only constant. Although the millennia had not tempered their affection and passion, he had never had to imagine doing without her. Now, he did. What if she had not stayed with him? What if she had abandoned him when he had gone to serve Melkor? Could he have dwelt alone so long?
No one else called him by his true name. Did anyone else remember it? No one else cared what happened to him. Perhaps the children? Perhaps, but nothing that he did nor what happened to him could affect them in any way. They were too far removed from his life now. No, even if they cared, it would make little difference to them.
Tightening his arms around her, he was gripped with a deep protective sensation, almost overwhelming. Did anything else matter anymore? Her despair, her grief and sadness… was there any way to dispel them? Could she be right? She had seen the downfall of all the powerful creatures on Middle-earth, the fair and the evil. Could she foresee his violent end?
He leaned to kiss her. What was to be done?