A/N Marvel-Tolkien Fangirl's chapter 5 of Spectrum: The Harpist's Tale comes before this one.
And sorry for taking so long to get this done, I've just started a summer semester at university and life has been crazy!
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Dr North did not stop staring at me as we drove to a strange building and went inside. While the other mortals gave me a wide berth, he walked so close to me that it would have been easy to reach out and burn him. I reminded myself that I could not do that, for I had made a deal and must hold to it. If I became a liar, what else would I become?
They put me in a large, empty room. It was cool, but my shivers were not because of the temperature. There were large windows in the walls around me, and beyond them I saw people dressed in plain blue and grey uniforms, similar to the ones that were worn by the mortals in the hospital. Dr North soon appeared in one of the windows, staring in at me. There was a gleam in his eyes that I couldn't name. My shivers increased as I stared back, unable to break my gaze from his.
Dr Brightman from the hospital stepped up beside him. She seemed to be trying to get his attention, but he ignored her for some time. Eventually he turned, and breaking eye contact I turned to inspect my prison closer. There wasn't much to see; other than the machines and people seen through the windows, the room was plain white, with long strips of lights implanted in the ceiling.
My mind turned to Maglor. Would Dr North keep his promise? Was my brother safe?
I sat in a corner of the room, watching Dr North and Dr Brightman as their gestures got increasingly more excited. They were arguing about something. Me, most likely. What were they going to do to me? In my vision, she had said that my blood was more powerful than a nuclear bomb- I didn't understand what that meant, but I knew that it could not be good. But Dr North's intentions seemed to be no more honorable than Dr Brightman's. Perhaps they were just arguing over the best way to extract their energy from me-
The door opened, emitting four mortals wearing strange white clothing that covered them completely, with only a clear little window for them to see through. They brought with them a type of wheeled bed, with raised sides. I scrambled to my feet.
"Ninniach, please lie on the bed."
I glanced over to where Dr Brightman stood behind the glass. Dr North had left, I didn't care where. The mortal woman was leaning over some sort of device that was projecting her voice into the room that I was in. It occurred to me that I had stopped learning new words and things shortly after I met Maglor. It didn't matter. Taking a deep breath, I did as Dr Brightman asked, and the mortals strapped me in, with thick belts over my shoulders, just under my ribcage, across my hips, and then cuffs on my wrists and ankles.
The mortals left, and a few moments later returned with some sort of machine. Dr Brightman came with them, wearing garb similar to the others, only lacking the face-obscuring hood. She stood by and watched as the others began attaching small circular things to my temples. None of them touched me for long, but soon I smelled the burning of their protective gear.
"What do you want from me?"
Dr Brightman studied me for a moment. "You can change this world. Make it better. There is a power crisis, Ninniach, and not energy manufacturing. There are thousands of governments, each trying to outcompete the others. I work for a man that is trying to bring about world peace. Peter North is a visionary. He has come up with a plan to unify the world, to solve every problem that we have. But nothing comes for free, and the price to fix this planet is you. We need your power, Ninniach, for the man that holds the detonator is the man that rules the world, and that is the man who people will listen to."
"I don't understand."
Dr Brightman frowned at me for a moment, and then walked forward and checked over the work of her colleagues. "If you try to reason with people they won't listen. You have to demonstrate that you are worth listening to."
I struggled to come to terms with what she was saying. Her expression was cold and it wasn't until the gloves on her hands began to melt that she withdrew again. My head was pounding. All the blood that was spilled over me and my siblings thousands of years before this culture existed... and it was going to start again. "You're going to use me as a weapon?"
Dr Brightman shrugged. "The world has an overpopulation problem, anyway."
I couldn't comprehend the coldness of her words. "You're evil," I blurted, and Dr Brightman's expression became pained for a moment.
"I suppose that's what most people will think, and I don't blame them for that. But as Peter says, some things must be sacrificed for the good of the whole."
"You were arguing with him."
Dr Brightman shook her head as she began hooking wires to the attachments on my skin, and then connecting them to the machine. "I don't always see his vision."
The machine started to blink various lights, and the tremors of fear that ran through me increased. My eyes watered. "Please let me go," I whispered.
The doctor paused, gazing at me. She was silent for a long time. "You remind me a little of my granddaughter. She's three. I don't know what about you it is... Maybe it's that you have the same sort of innocence about you that she does. I know you don't understand what's going on here, Ninniach, and I know you're scared. I wish I could tell you that it won't hurt. But you have to understand that there is too much at stake here. We can't let someone else get the power you'll afford us. And there are many who would try. I'll try to make it easier for you, though, if you cooperate."
"Please don't."
"You could be the key to saving thousands of lives. Surely a little pain is worth that?"
A tear ran down my cheek. I thought of Maglor again. I hoped, knowing that it was a vain hope, that he would return to Lindon and take the elven boat to Valinor. But I knew, in my heart, that if he was able to, he would try to find me, rescue me, and that it would surely lead to his death.
"Dr Brightman, I want to talk to our patient alone for a moment," Dr North's voice said.
Dr Brightman looked up and frowned. "I thought we agreed to begin-"
Dr North came around the bed and put his hand on her shoulder. "Zandra, you can wait a few more moments for your experiments. There are things that I want to know from Ninniach that she may not be in any state to tell me after you are finished."
I looked at Dr North, and suddenly terror overcame me. It was stronger than it had been ever before, and I tried to ask Dr Brightman not to leave me alone with the man. My throat didn't seem to work, and I couldn't speak. Dr Brightman reluctantly nodded, and left, gesturing for the other mortals to follow her. As though it had been preplanned, the mortals in the rooms around us left as well, leaving me utterly alone with Dr North. He contemplated me as he sat down on the bed beside me, near my legs, not quite touching me.
"Zandra told you more than she ought to have," he murmured. "It is a shame. She had been very useful."
"What does that mean?" I questioned, finding my voice but finding it was very dry.
"Don't worry about that, Ninniach," Dr North said, and his voice was smoother than it had been before. More honeyed, seductive. "You will not care, soon enough."
"Why are you doing this? You don't really believe that you are helping the world, do you?"
Dr North chuckled lightly. "I was once fully satisfied with my lot in life. But things change. People change. I realised that I could do so much more. Be so much more. And they tried to stop me. They thought that they were so much better than me. But they failed."
Fear clenched my heart. "Who?"
"You know who." Dr North chuckled again, and then leaned in close to whisper in my ear. I felt the moistness of his breath on my skin and flinched away from him. "You're right, Silmaril. I am not helping this world. I am going to use you to destroy it."
He pulled away then and chuckled again. I stared at him in horror, and for a split second I saw red light spilling from his eyes. I opened my mouth to scream for help, but staring into his eyes I felt myself paralysed.
"Melkor," I whispered, forcing the word from my throat, but could manage no more than that.
"Melkor? Few would call me by that name anymore. Morgoth was the name that I have carried since it was put on me by Feanor."
I wanted to close my eyes, look away, do something to stop that gaze from penetrating mine, but I couldn't.
"Peter North was a rich, unscrupulous man when I found him. He cared more about his profits than he did about saving lives. He was the perfect vessel to use to felicitate my return." He paused, and then reached out as though to brush his fingers on my cheek, but stopped. "This mortal flesh will wither if it touches you. I must admit, that I did not expect this gift to come to me. You, one that once crowned me in glory."
"You crowned yourself, and it was not with glory," I choked out.
Morgoth studied me for a moment. "You were fairer as a jewel, but you were always the least fair of the three. Weaker than the others. Still, you are fair to look upon. And now, knowing that I can use the Valar's own creation of light to destroy them... this is sweet vengeance indeed."
"You will fail."
Morgoth laughed, and brushed his fingers through my hair, despite the fact that instantly I heard the sizzle and smelled the scent of burning flesh. When he withdrew, angry red blisters rose on his hand.
"The Valar have withdrawn themselves from Arda, preferring to seat themselves in their Blessed Realm," he spoke the words mockingly, with open and bitter disgust, "and they allowed the second-born to forget them. They don't care. Who is there to stand in my way? Maglor, the Kinslayer, whose actions have often served my purposes, even as he proclaimed his hatred of me? I think, perhaps, he could be useful to me. But I vowed to eradicate the house of Feanor, and so-"
A soft cry tore from my lips. Morgoth paused.
"You care for him. I was confused that you would sacrifice yourself to spare him, but you truly care for him. After all he did, you have found it in yourself to forgive him?" He stood and seized my throat, fingers digging into my flesh. I felt the skin of his mortal host burn against mine, the smell so strong that I could almost taste it. "Is that why he did not burn at your touch? Why does he deserve to behold beauty and glory, tiny, insignificant being that he is, and yet I remain in exile?"
I could hardly breathe. His paralysing gaze was choking me more than his fingers. "Because," I gasped, "he- feels- guilty- you- revel- in- wickedness-"
Morgoth released me, but I still couldn't breathe. He glowered at me for a moment, and then calmly spoke. "Mortal flesh cannot hold me long, but know this, Silmaril, I am returning, and when I am here, you will be mine again."
He stumbled suddenly, breaking eye contact. I sucked in air gratefully. Morgoth leaned against the machine to support himself. It was as though I could see him grow smaller, and I realised that Morgoth was retreating from his host. Dr North shook his head, his body trembled and when he turned around, the red light had gone from his eyes, and he appeared drained and ill. He looked at the burns on his hand, and then up at me. His eyes met mine.
"He wanted to speak with you, I see," he murmured, and then, slowly, as though each step pained him, he walked to the door. "Dr Brightman! It's time to begin."