MAIRON scrutinized the young woman as she stepped into his room. He could feel her hesitations. Perhaps it was this hesitation that had caught his attention. Most court ladies were eager for his favor. He knew Giminzil was young, and that may be the reason. But Dollbeni had entered the court only a year prior to Giminzil. And that girl was bolder than some of the king's knights.
Giminzil dragged her feet as if it took an effort for her to walk.
"The queen is about to leave for Hyarnustar, and she waits for the potion. They are leaving any moment." The girl made a face as she picked at her lips.
Mairon could not help the smile that tugged at his lips. He could imagine what she may be thinking. Men were lascivious compared to the Firstborns, probably the reason Men multiplied so quickly, unlike the Elves. The same reason his master interbred Men into the Orcs.
Mairon had expected these Numenorean Men to be more like the Elves, more in control of their physical desires. They married late, had fewer children, and had the strength and will to equal the many Elves. And it seemed some also remained faithful to one spouse. But Men were not Elves. Thank Melkor! They did not have the same control the Elves had over their physical nature and desires which made them so much easier to influence.
"Come, lady. I do not bite. Nor do I sleep."
Keeping the door wide open, Mairon walked into his chamber. It was meant for sleeping, he supposed, but he didn't need it, so the bed had been removed. Only the furniture he absolutely needed remained.
The girl walked in slowly, her body tense as if ready to bolt at the slightest alarm. Something about her reminded Mairon of Rodwen. His heart tightened at the thought of that Elven maid. Mairon took in a quick breath and hardened his heart. No one shall ever have such power over him again.
The girl's eyes widened as she gawked at the room which consisted only of a gargantuan desk made of ebony wood. Four tall windows lined the wall behind it, illuminating the desk with the morning sunlight.
"I have never seen so much codices." Her eyes darted over the bookcases, then rested on the small chests thrown carelessly on the floor.
Men had a peculiar habit of bringing gems, gold, and other valuables when they wanted a favor. And Mairon had found these trinkets useful in enticing other men and women to do his bidding. It was quite strange, really. These men, powerful lords with large estates, already had much in their own treasuries and cellars, yet men never seem to tire of wanting more.
"Are you interested in some of these trinkets?"
Mairon picked up one of the elaborate necklaces inside the newly arrived box of jewelry from several members of the Council of Sceptre. They wanted Mairon to convince the king to allow other nobles to build their tombs near Meneltarma. Not in Noirinan, the Valley of the Tombs, where only the tombs of the kings and queens were allowed.
Meneltarma, the tallest mountain in Numenor, had five ridges, and the nobles hoped to build their tombs alongside those ridges, just like the kings did.
These Numenoreans were obsessed with the building of their tombs, and the more elaborate and grander, the better. The more they feared death, the more complicated rituals Men created for their dead. And fears were easy to exploit. And finding these fears and desires became almost a game to Mairon.
"You can have a pick if you wish." Mairon pushed one of the jewel boxes.
Most of the court ladies, young or old, who were told to do so, were thrilled, but this one rounded her eyes like a rabbit in front of a fox.
"You don't want it?"
"Why would you offer it to me?"
For the second time, Mairon felt a pull of his lips.
"I have no need for jewels and gems. Yet they keep giving them to me. I thought you may want one. Others seem keen on having them."
Mairon held out his hand. The girl stepped back, ready to flee.
"Lady Giminzil, you need to give me the bottle for me to fill it."
The girl blushed fiercely, then fumbled around her pocket before handing the small glass bottle.
There was something about this girl, as insignificant as she was, something in his senses pricked when the girl was near. He didn't know yet what it was about the girl.
She wasn't particularly beautiful, not like Dollbeni, nor was she particularly brilliant like Herumor. But something pulled at him. And Mairon trusted his senses.
"Do you want to watch?" Mairon did not know why he asked.
The girl nodded.
Mairon picked up one of the glass bottles on his desk. He whistled a tune, filling the chamber with unearthly music as he uncorked the empty bottle. The girl's eyes filled with wonder as she watched, open-mouthed.
The liquid glowed opalescent as the drop from the jar flowed out into the glass bottle and filled it to the brim.
"It's magic!" she whispered; her eyes filled with wonder. "Is this why they call you the 'wizard'?"
"That is my name." Numenoreans called him 'Zigur' which meant 'wizard' in their tongue. Men lacked imagination, no doubt.
The girl smiled widely for the first time since she stepped into the room.
"You make magic potions that erase the marks of age on one's face and give vigor to the aging bodies. What else can your magic do, my lord?"
"The better question, lady, is what do you desire?"
Giminzil's hand swept over her hair bound in a silk scarf.
Mairon remembered now why she caught his eyes the first time he saw her.
She was a familiar face within the inner court as the child of Lady Inzil, the queen's confidant, the first one the king had asked him to take away from the queen's side. The king had insisted it had to be done in a way no one could fault anyone.
It was too easy a task for Mairon, a simple wave of his hand to make the woman tumble down the marble stairs. A simple 'accident' in front of everyone, but it had impressed the king.
But the reason Mairon remembered the woman's child was because of her pale hair.
Most Numenoreans had either a dark hair or golden hair like the king and the queen. Mairon had never met a child of Men who had a pale hair, almost colorless.
But then, Lady Inzil was a distant relation to the king and the queen. She had the blood of Elros in her, however minuscule. Somehow, the Sindarin portion of Elros' blood showed through this girl, making her very Elvish in appearance. Once, it may have made the girl look attractive to others, but now, these Numenoreans hated anything Elven.
"Perhaps I can give you a gift," Mairon drawled, but the girl's interest was elsewhere.
Mairon turned to the girl. Her eyes were drawn to a bowl of silver fruits, the ones produced by Nimloth the White Tree that Mairon had ordered his guards to gather. They were silver and shiny, just slightly larger than the biggest acorns.
Mairon had meant for those fruits to fall and rot on the ground, but something had him gather all the fruits on the tree and even those on the ground. He did not know why. If he had his way, he would uproot the White Tree today. But that order had to come from the king.
The tree was the symbol of friendship between the Men and the Elves. How much more devastating it would be if it was the hand of Men that had uprooted and burned that symbol? Men to whom the Elves had given their hearts.
The girl looked up. She blinked, her rain-cloud eyes wide and questioning.
"If I can give you anything, what would you like?"
The girl's eyes swept the silver fruits, but her hand reached for her head again.
She was a willowy thing, ephemeral and ethereal at the same time. There was something definitely Elven about her.
The rage he had felt at Celebrimbor's betrayal suddenly reared, and Mairon took in a sharp breath to calm the fire. He had a sudden desire to break her, shatter and hurt her.
"You want to be like everyone else, do you not?"
Her eyes widened for a second, then she dropped her head. But she nodded.
He took a step towards her and she stepped back, but he did not reach for the headscarf. With an imperceptible move of his hand, the headscarf came undone. The young woman grabbed her head, but her long hair tumbled down from her head.
It was the first time Mairon had seen the hair this close. He had thought the hair was white like some of the Sindar he had seen, but Giminzil's hair was not white. Instead, it was a paler version of Celeborn of Doriath who had hair like melted silver.
And the memory of Celeborn stirred even more of his memory of Celebrimor who had cheated him of the three rings which he had coveted the most. And with it came the memory of his failure to bring the Elves under his power.
The girl stepped back, grabbed her fallen hair. At the same time, she reached for her scarf which fell on the top of the bowl containing the silver fruit.
"I… I'm so… sorry." The girl stammered. "Please excuse me, my lord. The queen waits for me." With that, the girl ran out of the chamber.
Mairon picked up one of the silver fruits and tore into the silky flesh. The fruit burst in his mouth and the red juice the color of blood escaped down his lips. The fruit tasted bitter in his mouth, but Mairon did not care. He will spare no one. Not one man, woman, or a child.
Melkor—The original Dark Lord and Sauron's master. He is the Devil himself and is known as the Lord of Darkness
Celeborn of Doriath—husband of Galadriel
Celebrimbor—grandson of Feanor. He and the Elven smiths or Eregion made the rings of power under the tutelage of Sauron. The three most powerful rings (three Elven rings of power in LOTR) among them were untouched by Sauron and were hidden. Sauron never found them.
A/N: Rodwen mentioned by Sauron is my OC from another fanfiction, What It Means to be a King. The story of their relationship is in Gold Rings and Green Woods, Part2 Section 3: Eregion, of that story.