:Part 2:
The smackdown continues in the second installment of this mini-fic. If you haven't read the first one I suggest you go back and brush up on how it got this far; though I think you can get the hint even if you start from here. For those wondering about the ships they reference an obscure bit of Tolkiens lore where he speaks of three strange Maia / Valar who tether the sun and moon to special Ropes of Time and give them to Manwë so that he can order the heavens and the passage of the days, years, and eons. Anyway, here's part 2, Enjoy.
It was wild rumour that had drawn Mairon there to test his luck on a fools chance.
Upon the decaying ruins of the land once known as Middle Earth, time turned with ever increasing speed in the new 'world of men'. Now the singular force in the world they built their cities anchored in conceit and reveled in their hubris as lords of the world; yet a plague here, a catastrophe there, and they were back to crawling on hands and knees in the darkness like the wretches they were born to be. Every setback had been orchestrated with careful malice and watched with unbridled glee by the maia in the shadows - the once and former Dark Lord of Mordor which had long passed from the fleeting memories of men.
Yet there were rumours of ships, great ships that sailed above the clouds who spread their sails and traveled deep into the unreached parts of heaven where only the sylphs dared roam. Two ships, a halved fruit of polished gold and lit with sacred fire from within - and a delicate, bruised flower on a crystal isle. Both tethered to the heights of the mountain of the gods with the mooring ropes of Time itself.
Rumour no more - for Mairon had seen them.
That was the plan after all, to break into Valmar, make his way to Taniquetil and gain control of the anchoring ties for the sun and the moon. Then, with control of time in his grasp he might be just barely able to undo all the long decline of the years. If only he could turn back time itself. To the days before his fall - before his masters fall - before the Children of Ilúvater - to the very entering of Arda.
They had been so strong then; so close to total domination and the fulfillment of all their will. There would be their greatest chance, there lie their victory.
With the last of his strength he had managed to find the Door of Night and carefully he had reached out with his shattered mind; hoping beyond hope for reply. If the words that echoed in his mind were truth or the cruel imaginations of a disturbed subconscious he could never truly know until the day; if he were successful, that he opened those black gates.
But now he was unexpectedly delayed, by what in his mind was a most laughable turn of events. They had sent the martyr to stop him. The broken one, the one he had so utterly ruined. The one he had murdered before in his own home. The one he had defiled and disgraced.
Mirth spilled over in his heart and he laughed aloud even at the elf who stood stone-faced before him.
"You? Oh I may meet my maker one of these long days but it won't be at the hands of some simpering little elf trying to fill his grandfathers shoes. Really though I must tell you how relieved I am," Mairon smirked. "I came expecting a challenge but it seems the Valar ARE merciful after all. Though they could have saved us all the trouble and simply escorted me to Taniquetils peak themselves! But then again..."
His voice now took on a deeper resonance, thrumming with malice and power. Around him the very air seemed to sour and grow heavy with poison and noxious fumes. But his hands began to glow with fire and brimstone as he approached the alabaster stair where Celebrimbor stood on guard.
"It's been too long since I've flexed my claws, and nothing is so cathartic as tearing flesh and bone apart. You'd know a little something about that though wouldn't you?"
Under the light of stars and moon the only other light was the burning anger of flame and the crackling buzz of electricity in the courtyard before the Ascendant Stair. The light danced gold and silver in the night for a long moment and the air grew hushed, yet it pulsed with unseen energy that promised to explode in an instant. Every step toward Celebrimbor that Mairon made only increased the pressure in the air as both their energies clashed, repulsing wherever they met as they followed their oppositely charged natures. Yet neither could gain the advantage and separated by a mere five yards of polished tile they were at a stalemate.
Mairon however, felt no real concern. He remembered well how Celebrimbor had been the day he died. He cherished how far the elf-lord had fallen under his watchful eye. But this elf before him was not what he remembered.
This blankness, this void. No, that Mairon couldn't stand. It rankled some deep part of him - it was a rejection, and insult. That he should elicit nothing? No hate, no anger, no sadness, no fear? No look of pained longing that he has so often relished. No trembling gaze wracked with guilt and betrayal that had suited the Noldo most beautifully?
Nothing. Not a single solitary emotion?
Mairon bared his teeth in a cruel, feral grin; laughing like a wolf before the kill.
"I must wonder now at your blank stare. Do you remember me at all Tyelpë? Or have you really become the hollow doll of the Valar? Does Namo pull your strings from Mandos just to watch you dance? Are you the deceased former lord of Eregion or are you just a puppet making believe?"
With a twisted smile he whispered. "I most certainly remember you. It's an honor really; perhaps the only one you're deserving of. For it takes quite a lot for me to know someones face, to know the sound of their voice. Oh yes..." the Maia purred. "My memories of you little Tyelpë are some of my fondest. And we were so very close -."
Each slow step was deliberate as the intruder moved forward, calculated at a speed slow enough that when - for he did not doubt that at least one barb would hit home - the elf finally decided to strike he would be ready. But in the meantime he intended to stoke the baleful fire he knew must be smoldering beneath that frigid facade.
There's rage beneath that mask of his, and I'll see it even if I have to rip that face off myself!
Lightly he spoke again, as if speaking with an old friend about fond memories.
"Ah, I remember everything so clearly, it wasn't so very long ago at all. But what do you remember, little doll of the gods? Do you remember anything behind such dull and vacant eyes? Should I jog your memory? Let's see then...do you remember the day we met?
There. Mairon thought triumphantly as the barest trace of movement appeared at the corner of one eye. And loudly he proclaimed.
"So you do remember! You remember how wonderfully I lied to you and how you just so deliciously tripped right into it! Taking me at my word when I said I came to help, when I said I just wanted what was best for Eregion...even when I said you were my friend."
Like ice melting under a heated brand Celebrimbor slowly began to react. His eyes now seemed just a bit more lively than they had been, his grip tightening imperceptibly with rage. As he spoke Mairon moved ever further to the left, making a wide arc around where Celebrimbor stood poised with gleaming weapon leveled and ready - the sharpened spear glinting in the mingled light of fire and sparks even as his silvery armor danced under the moonlight. They had now come even, the maia even being so bold as to mount the stairs one by one, climbing until he was level with the hostile gate-keeper who continued to stare him down with eyes that burned like dark embers.
With the quickest of movements Mairons gaze flicked left and then back before his opponent could move. The alabaster stair was a straight shot up it seemed. It would be a long, but easy climb to the top once he was finished with his opponent. Giving a sigh of relief Mairons smile at once became exceedingly cruel; as if he were relishing in dark thoughts which were too dreadful to utter.
"You know what else I remember Tyelpë? What I've missed so terribly much these years?" Mairon asked, an almost innocent tone creeping into his malicious voice - a pleading note so piercing it easily burrowed into it's target even down to the bone.
"I miss the way you screamed." He hissed, the words hanging like knives in the air. Mairon watched his opponents eyes widen just a hint, body tensing with unspoken anger and he gave a laugh of pleasure at the sight even as more words issued from his mouth.
"I miss the way you begged me to kill you. I relish my memories of you, bloodied and beaten, crying for mercy you knew I wouldn't give such a poor undeserving wretch! How fondly I remember every moment of agony you so graciously endured. But do you know what truly brought a thrill of joy to my heart? My fondest memory of you? Can you guess?"
The question went unanswered save for the dangerous glint in the elves eyes. Mairon shrugged. "No? Then I'll tell you."
Now a truly dark and malevolent aura wrapping around Mairon like a cloud of malice until he seemed warped and twisted, a blight and disease in stainless world - filled only with hate. His eyes flared with fire and cast a demonic light upon his mocking face.
"Pathetic little elf! The memory of you I hold fondest, that I treasure most of all is the beautiful memory of your last words. When after all that I put you through you whispered your heart out in some revolting, whining voice with what little life you had left."
Now the maias laughter echoed across the yard, his head thrown back in truly malicious joy, heedless of the cracking storm building to a thundering rage around them. "They were three little words but oh so beautiful!"
Now Celebrimbor shifted, lowering his stance and his eyes blazed with all of his hate, his rage, his indignation and absolute loathing. Yet Mairon purred with pleasure and his voice lowered to a sultry whisper. "Oh what you said to me...with those three little words. That final request I so love to remember; when you said to me; "Please -"
The movement flashed into a blur of light. For a moment Mairon lost sight of the elf.
Blackness swarmed him and then just as suddenly the world returned and he felt the concussion of his body slamming into the ground. Pain raced through every limb - every nerve shrieking as if consumed in flame even as he hit the stone a second time, muscles twitching beyond his control. With a coughing sputter the maia came back to his senses. Quickly he rolled and clambered ungracefully to his feet, body quaking with the effort. His head reeled and buzzed from the electricity racing through his skull and thrumming through his stricken body.
Celebrimbor now stood much closer to him and as he looked upon the elf he gave a dark glare, for the ferocity of the smiths gaze was most certainly one worthy of the house of Fëanor. Now all humor was drained from his hurting face. Mairon resisted the temptation to put a hand to his torn cheek to check the damage, he didn't need to touch it to know that it was deeply cut - he could feel the blood running down his chin, dripping thickly onto his neck and he could see well enough the crimson smears on the gauntlet from where the elf had so brazenly struck him.
"Your temper is as well controlled as ever I see..." Mairon growled, spitting blood onto the pristine white stone. Yet inside his mind turned in ferocious circles, searching for an answer to this unforeseen riddle even as he dredged up his bravado in full to hide his sudden fear. For he had not even glimpsed the strike that sent him reeling.
How the hell did he do that?! Some whiny little elven shit shouldn't stand a chance against ME! And what am I doing fighting now anyway? I don't have time for this! All I need do is grab the tethers, dealing with this worm can wait!
Now gathering dark flames unto himself fell curses in an accursed tongue whispered from his bloodied mouth and crackled into the air, thickening the atmosphere with blight. Even the stars of Valinor seemed dim as his sorcery rose into the night sky like a column of blackest smoke. Darkness came to his aid and thickened around them. Mairon rose like a bird of shadow, moving with haste up the high steps. He meant for speed to be his ally now, to ward him until with the great moorings of Time held in his hand he could arrange the world according to his will.
So onward he charged with reckless abandon even as he heard the racing of feet behind him. Mairon had just reached a wide flat ledge; one adorned with finely wrought benches of iron backed by a low wall of polished stone all around. Yet the center was open and decorated only with a meticulous mosaic of blue and white tile fashioned into shapes like the sylphs of the air and the currents of the great aerial ocean above the world.
He made it two steps across the small courtyard when a hammering blow hit him squarely from behind, sending the maia reeling. His breath stalled, lungs burning for the air they had so forcefully expelled at such a violence even as his balance failed and he fell forward toward the ground, muscles locked tight and burning from within against his reeling will. Thunder roared in his ears as he met the ground until all that was left was a high pitched ringing that eclipsed all other sound. He rolled, skidding to a halt several yards from where he had first been struck as the last reverberations echoed from the sheer rocky cliffs of Taniquetil high above. Burning agony consumed him even as his own body refused his commands and he could do little more than lie twitching; miserable, paralyzed, and, watching his foe approach
Celebrimbor walked slowly up the carven stair. Even now he was unhurried. His armor clinked solidly with every step and his long dark hair swayed with his movements. The spear he held at ease, knowing full well the immobility of his quarry.
But though his body betrayed no rush his stern face was far from passive and his lithe form was framed by roiling clouds that now swarmed about their relocated battleground, spitting sparks from one black mound to another. Electricity traced along the runes in Celebrimbors armor, it arched from one pointed segment to another and ran up and down the length of both gauntlets. Lightning flashed and thunder answered high above them and from Celebrimbors mouth Mairon could just barely hear an issuance of the ancient words of power spoken by the Valar in their youth.
"This..." Mairon sputtered, drawing his battered and burned form to his feet - drawing on what reserves of pure will remained to him to keep the physical form from disintegrating. "-is beyond a mere elf...what is happening here? What the hell are you?!"
Above the heavens answered with a tumultuous roar as lighting lanced in all directions across the sky. And Celebrimbor growled in a voice full of rage.
"No mere elf..."