Warning: Violence in this chapter towards someone who is already hurt and totally defenceless.

Chapter 5: A Maia's Revenge-part 3

Pain. That was the first thing to register through the fog permeating all his sense.

Through the haze of pain, he could hear several voices arguing, but trying to figure out who they belonged to was beyond him right now.

Mairon moaned. A white-hot pain lacing through his head at that action, almost causing him to lose consciousness again. He was aware enough to register the voices had stopped speaking. Soon, he became dimly aware of another presence standing over him, one he didn't recognise, but he didn't have the strength to open his eyes to see who it was. However, they flew open of their own accord when a hefty kick connected with his rib cage.

Crying out in pain and shock, the Maia attempted to move away from the source of pain. He cowered, trying to protect the most vulnerable parts of himself, namely his head and stomach. Blinking blearily around in bewilderment, trying to ignore the agony encompassing his entire head and making his vision swim, Mairon tried to figure out where he was. It was all a blur, but he dimly realised, thorough the pounding in his skull, that the back of his head and neck were sticky with blood…

Before he became aware of anything else, however, he was violently sick. The action spiked the pressure in his head, and he cried out. Mairon closed his eyes, body shaking helplessly, ignoring the curses that greeted his actions. Tears slipped down his cheeks to drip off the end of his nose, as he rested his cheek on the cold floor.

Trying to avoid putting pressure on the obvious head wound, he concentrated on not passing out again. Through the pounding in his head, he heard several people yelling nearby, though he couldn't understand the words. Suddenly feeling a cool hand on his forehead, the Maia lent into it in relief, feeling the pain ebb a little. A few seconds later the hand was removed. Mairon hissed at the throbbing pain still vibrating through his whole head, but at least it was at a more bearable level now.

Opening his eyes with difficulty, Mairon blinked groggily at the person standing over him. As his vision partially cleared, he realised it was another Maia, one he didn't recognise. This Maia looking down at him had bright orange eyes filled with anger and contempt. Mairon swallowed in sudden, nauseous fear, recognising the wild look in those eyes...

He'd seen it often enough in the eyes of his Master, just before Melkor had taken his anger and frustrations at life out on his favourite thrall...

"Finally, you decided to wake up."

Mairon shuddered at his words, so like those his Master had once said. He didn't know where he was or why he was here, but he instinctively knew he was in deep trouble. Desperately reaching out for the bond he shared with his lord, Mairon felt fear take hold when he couldn't reach it. The orange-eyed Maiar, seeing that fear in his eyes, laughed.

"Did you really think I'm that stupid? Sámotára here is more than capable of blocking your link with Námo. He doesn't have a clue where you are. None of them do. And they won't find you anytime soon."

The fell grin the orange-eyed Maia gave him was enough to momentarily freeze the blood in Mairon's fana. His own eyes flickered to look at the aforementioned Maia, who refused to meet his eyes. The orange-eyed Maia's grin became even more predatory at seeing that, and he snapped his fingers towards someone standing just out of Mairon's sight.

"Nityatinwë. Let the elves know they can get ready."

Mairon felt an emotion he couldn't describe run through him at hearing that. Looking at the orange-eyed Maia in horror, Mairon managed to speak without his voice trembling too much, though it was very croaky.

"W-why? W-who are you?"

The orange-eyed Maia gave him a feral grin.

"How remiss of me not to introduce myself. My name is Nehtartúra. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, my dear Sauron. It's time to pay for what you did to my family."

Through the pain threatening to envelop him and suck him back into oblivion, Mairon tried to understand what Nehtartúra was saying. His confusion must have shown on his face, because the orange-eyed Maia chuckled. The sound caused every hair on Mairon's body to stand on end.

"First thing is to get rid of this necklace. It is far too fancy for Filth like you to wear." The other Maia spat, the refuse hitting Mairon on his cheek. Kneeling to more easily reach what he thought was just jewellery adorning the smaller Maia's neck, the Maia seemed to speak to himself. "Why Lord Aulë would even give it to you is beyond me."

Due to the pain pounding through his head from the wound, it took Mairon a few moments to figure out what Nehtartúra meant. By this point, the other Maia was tugging at his necklace, cursing when he couldn't find a way to open or remove it. Ignoring how Mairon cried out in pain and cowered away, the orange-eyed Maia looked at him in annoyance.

"How do you get this thing off?"

Despite the situation, Mairon felt the corner of his lips twitch upwards.

"Only three people in the whole of Eä can remove it. And none of them are you."

Nehtartúra stared at him for a long moment, confused. Then, realisation dawned. When it did, the Maia muttered an oath. Surging to his feet, he savagely kicked Mairon, who cried out in shock, pain and fear. As the other Maia stormed away, Mairon took the opportunity to raise himself up a little, in an effort to examine the room he was in. Though, as soon as he did, he realised it wasn't a room, but a cave. The rough stone walls, roof and floor gave that away. Looking around blearily, the Maia realised Nehtartúra was no longer there. As he was looking around, he caught the eye of Sámotára again. Irmo's Maia was sitting on a plain wooden chair nearby. The moment Mairon looked in his direction, he averted his eyes, hunching his shoulders in.

"I'm sorry, Mairon. I've no choice but to help him."

Mairon blinked, struggling to find the right words to ask why. However, before he could say anything, Nehtartúra returned. He wasn't alone. With him were several dark-haired elves, and another dark-haired Maia. This Maia was carrying a leather bag, which he placed on the floor a few feet away. At seeing this, Mairon felt panic rising. This whole situation was eerily like the start of one of his Master's 'sessions'. Melkor would often bring a bag or crate to those, filled with whatever new tortures he'd devised – or forced Mairon to create.

Being forced to create weapons of torture, which were then tried out on him, was just one of the many cruel things Melkor had done to Mairon during those final years.

"Is that Sauron? He doesn't look very Sauron-ish to me."

Mairon blinked at the elf whom had spoken; trying to figure out why he was starting to feel so detached from what was happening around him.

"Trust me, that is Sauron. Though he calls himself Mairon now. Still, that doesn't change the fact he was Sauron in Middle Earth; it was he who doubtlessly killed many of your friends and family." Nehtartúra's voice was full of glee and anticipation. "And now he will finally get what he deserves for all his foul deeds."

The elf's eyes lit up at hearing that, and a look of pure unbridled hatred overtook his features. Mairon felt his fear violently spike as the look was mirrored in the eyes of all the other elves.

He was in big trouble.

Oromë wasn't surprised when Námo appeared beside him, his presence like a clap of thunder. While he didn't react, the two Maiar with him jumped, already being on edge and not expecting it. The other Vala appeared outwardly calm, but the Hunter knew the Doomsman was anything but. It was now over a day since his Maia had been kidnapped, and Námo's anger was increasing with every passing second. Even though Oromë himself was in shock that one of his Maiar would do something like this, he knew Námo was both in shock, and absolutely furious. However, they all had to remain strong and in control if they were to have a chance of finding Mairon.

"Any luck with tracking him?"

Námo's voice was sharp and unyielding, with an undercurrent of rage and doom. Tulcumbas and Roccondil both flinched at the harsh words, though they weren't directed at them. Oromë wearily shook his head, running a hand wearily over his face as he sighed.

"No. He was here, that much I can tell, but then his trail just seems to disappear." Oromë looked concerned. "I know Nehtartúra is good at tracking and the like, but he shouldn't be able to hide another from me."

Námo's expression grew even darker.

"Lots of things have happened recently that should not be possible. Right now, almost nothing would surprise me."

Oromë sighed.

"You have a point there. Any news from your end?"

Námo shook his head.

"Manwë has several contingents of Warrior Maiar out looking as well. However, I doubt they will have any success." Námo's mien darkened even further. "Something tells me Nehtartúra would have anticipated we'd do just that, and act accordingly. We know he had plenty of time and help to plan out exactly what he was going to do."

Tulcumbas and Roccondil looked at each other in unease at hearing that. The two Maiar were still in shock that Nehtartúra, whom they counted as a friend and brother, would do something like this. Sure, he'd always had a temper and hated evil creatures (two factors that had earned him his full name, Nehtartúra Ulundo, Great Slayer of Monsters) but that he would go as far as to defy the Valar and kidnap someone under their protection…

Oromë noticed their looks, especially that of Tulcumbas, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"This isn't your fault, Tulcumbas. Nor is it yours, Roccondil."

Tulcumbas drooped.

"I feel it is, my lord. I'm the chief of your people. I should have noticed something was wrong…"

Oromë sighed.

"You might be my chief, but that doesn't make your responsible for what others choose to do, child. This is more my fault than yours. I don't blame you for anything. Námo doesn't either, do you brother?"

Oromë addressed the other Vala, whose mien did not lighten any, even when he replied.

"Oromë is correct. I do not blame you for what happened. Nor do I blame him. However." Námo looked at all three of them coldly. "I am disappointed you are having so much trouble tracking him. Surely Nehtartúra is not powerful enough to obstruct your sense, brother? I seem to remember many times where you tracked the seeming impossible without much trouble."

Oromë nodded.

"You are correct, and as I said before, Nehtartúra should not be capable of blocking me. However, it appears he is. That doesn't mean I can't track them, but I need to re-think my strategy before I do. If anyone has any suggestions, I want to hear them."

"I have an idea. If you can't track Mairon, Sámotára, or Nehtartúra, what about tracking Marta? She's also disappeared. It is possible she may have gone after Mairon and his abductors."

Oromë looked in surprise at Lómindil. He'd been so focused on Námo, he hadn't noticed the Maia had since appeared. Námo nodded in agreement at his words, turning to the Hunter.

"That was my next question. Is that possible to do? We know where she was when Mairon was taken."

Oromë now looked thoughtful, as did the two Maiar with him. Tulcumbas looked at his lord, and a silent conversation passed between them. Looking at Námo and Lómindil when they'd finished, Oromë's eyes were shining with excitement.

"That should be possible. Very possible. Where was she last?"

Lómindil answered.

"At our campsite. We left her there while we went to play. When we returned to camp after Mai disappeared, she was gone. The camp was over here."

The raven-haired Maia led the two Valar and two other Maiar to a sheltered meadow on the outskirts of the forest. Pointing to a spot near the empty fire pit, Lómindil spoke.

"She was curled up on a cushion just there."

Oromë stooped to examine the ground, muttering something to himself that only his Maiar understood. After a few moments, the Hunter looked up at them all. His eyes glowered with an unearthly light as he smiled.

"Yes. There is a trail."

Námo's voice was sharp.

"Can you follow it?"

The Hunter nodded as he stood up.

"Yes. It's faint, but there. However, I cannot do it alone. Tulcumbas." Oromë turned to his Chief. "Valaróma please."

Lómindil's eyes widened, though Námo's expression remained impassive. No sooner had the words left Oromë's mouth, then his great horn appeared in Tulcumbas' hands. Holding it out to his lord, the Maia bowed in respect. Oromë took it with a nod of thanks, lifting it to his lips.

The sound that emitted from the great horn was the same sound that had once made even Melkor cower in Utumno. As the very fabric of reality seemed to cleave for a moment, Lómindil felt a great sense of wildness take told of his fëa. Though it died down after a moment as he felt Námo's energy calm him. Glancing at his fellow Maiar, he was unsurprised to see they were both glowing, quivering in excitement at the anticipation of a hunt. As he lowered the horn, Oromë also sported a feral grin, fell light emitting from his eyes. Looking at Námo (whose expression and posture were still set-in-stone) the Lord of the Hunt spoke in a voice that seemed to flash like lightening.

"Let us hunt."

Marta hissed in annoyance as she was forced to wade through yet another muddy stream. The solid ground had run out the moment she'd entered this water meadow, much to her displeasure. As she dragged herself out of the muddy water, for the umpteenth time the cat shook herself off in disgust.

Water by itself was bad enough. But she absolutely loathed the way mud caked on her paws and made them itch. Lifting her head, Marta carefully sniffing the air. She'd been travelling non-stop for more than a day now, and instinctively knew she had to be close to Mairon. She'd felt their bond strengthen considerably the moment she'd entered this meadow, and it was becoming minutely stronger with every step she took.

Which meant he had to be very close by. She would find him. She just had to keep looking.

Marta's ears suddenly twitched, sharp hearing catching the sound of someone cursing nearby. Slinking in that direction, the cat stopped and crouched in the long grass, tail flicking slightly as she observed the scene. An elf was filling a bucket with water from one of the streams, grumbling to himself the whole time. Once he had enough water, he hefted up the bucket, starting back towards one of the cliffs that bordered two sides of this meadow.

Grumbling and cursing away to himself as he lugged the bucket along, he remained unaware he'd acquired a tail. Slinking along in the long grass a little ways behind him, Marta felt her bond with Mairon strengthen...

A/N

Sorry for the wait. This week hasn't been great for me. But I'm going okay now, so there will be the next chapter up tomorrow as a thank you for your patience!