A/N: I'm sorry that there has once again been a big delay in the posting of the next chapter. Every time I think I've finally gotten to a place where I can focus on my writing, something new seems to pop up to suck away all my time and energy. In this case, about five months ago, my job (which I've been at seven years and have really loved) blew up in my face. It's a long story, but essentially my boss outed herself as a raging ableist, and my job has gone to Udun in a handbasket, which has been sucking every ounce of my energy out of me.
On a happy note, in eleven days, I am going to Middle-earth! I'm spending two weeks in New Zealand, visiting many of the filming locations such as Hobbiton, Caradhras, Ithilien, and Mordor and Mt. Doom itself! It's been my dream trip since I was thirteen years old and saw the LOTR movies for the first time. And even though it's been a good thing to get ready for, it's been taking up a lot of my time and energy too. But hopefully, walking the very ground of Sauron's home will give me the inspiration to get the next few chapters out sooner!
Chapter 24
"Today, I will be instructing you in how to imbue your work with the powers of your will and mind."
The forge fire was already burning bright, heat radiating from it in intense waves, and the smell of coal and hot metal filled the air. Sauron pulled his hair back and tied it easily as he spoke.
"It is this skill which truly separates our work from that of any other being of Arda. The dwarves and elves may be skilled in the crafting of fair trinkets, but it is only we who can shape what we craft around the passions of our very wills."
Erenquaro nodded, fidgeting with the edge of his thick leather apron, exuding an awkward nervousness. Sauron ignored the fidgeting as he continued.
"With this skill, you can bring into being physical manifestations of your will. Do you wish to persuade another to your own understandings? Perhaps you desire to craft Courage incarnate? All of this and more is possible with the honing of this skill. Be warned – just like the physical shaping of the object, it takes time and talent to learn to direct your will to such a purpose. It is not a skill you shall learn in a day, nor a score of days, but I will teach you to begin honing this ability. As such, we will not be starting today with a hammer and gold, but rather with a lesson of a different nature. Close your eyes."
Erenquaro frowned but did as he was instructed. Sauron nodded in approval. "I assume you know how to direct the powers of your fëa through Song?"
"Of course," Erenquaro answered with a little nod, his eyes still scrunched closed.
"Good. Then begin a Song of your own choosing."
There was silence for a short stretch, then Erenquaro began to sing. His voice was deep but somewhat unsteady, as if he were standing in the middle of a flooded river attempting to keep his feet while he sang. The themes of his Song were simple; Sauron heard a repeated melody of notes that wove together an appreciation for the heat of the Sun and the strength of the Earth under his feet.
"Good," Sauron crooned. "Good. Continue your Song."
Erenquaro's voice rose, becoming a little steadier, and a theme of the joy of sweat on the brow and the strain in one's arms entered his melody.
Sauron waited a minute or so longer, then he began his own Song.
Sauron's Maiarin power of Song had been bound. He had no ability to dominate or break the wills of another through his music nor to manifest his natural powers through his melody, but no Song sung by a Maia who had partaken in the Great Music could ever be completely bereft of its potency.
Sauron's Song was complex, a weave of themes intentionally crafted to confuse and bewilder. He sang of the thick mists and strands of darkness that filled the valleys of Ered Gorgoroth. He sang of the twisting paths under the black canopy of Taur-na-Fuin where one could so easily become turned around and wander hopelessly for days without even a glimpse of sunlight. He sang too of hope desperately clung to that slips away at the last moment, of intricately crafting a smile upon your face before your enemy while malice simultaneously burns in your heart, of trust shattered and immeasurable regret risen.
Almost instantly, Erenquaro's Song faltered then died, snuffed out by Sauron's themes.
Sauron fell silent as well. "Again," he instructed. "Craft your themes to be stronger than mine. Harden your will and resist me."
Erenquaro began again. This time, his Song had faint themes of frustration mixed with the simple themes of his prior melody.
Once again, Sauron let Erenquaro establish his Song for a minute before sweeping in with a beguiling Song of his own that almost immediately snuffed out Erenquaro's music. Sauron felt Erenquaro's focus snap, swept away in the swirling mire of Sauron's themes, and his notes dissipated as if they had never been.
This time, Erenquaro's frustration was clearly evident. He huffed a loud sigh, his hands balling into solid fists as he opened his eyes. "This is impossible!" he cried. "You're more powerful than I am. Your Song is always just going to swallow up mine."
"I am more powerful," Sauron said matter-of-factly, "but this is not a test of mere power."
"What's the point of this test then?" Erenquaro asked, his voice bordering on a pout.
Sauron smiled thinly. "That's what you're going to need to figure out. Begin your Song again."
Two more times, Erenquaro began his Song. Two more times, Sauron swept in with his Song and shattered it.
"Let me ask you this, Erenquaro," Sauron said after the most recent failed attempt. "You have been unsuccessful in maintaining your Song four times now. Might it be possible that it is time to try an alternate method?"
Erenquaro was clearly irritated at this point. He folded his arms, scowling. "Well, what else am I supposed to do? I'm singing just like you told me to. And I still don't even see the point of all of this anyway."
Sauron remained outwardly unruffled, but inwardly he was grinning to himself. He had never seen Erenquaro this riled up before, nor known the complacent Maia to ever backtalk him, not even in the last two days when he'd been struggling with the physical aspect of his smithcraft. But that was good. It was good to know that Erenquaro had the potential to not be quite as docile as he usually appeared.
Sauron kept up his calm façade in the face of Erenquaro's frustration, keeping his tone even but making sure it didn't ever stray into condescending. Even if he was deliberately pushing the other Maia's limits, he still needed Erenquaro to ultimately trust him. "The themes you sing of," he said coolly, "they are not the themes closest to your heart at the present, are they?"
Erenquaro frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Do you sing of what you truly feel or what you think you should feel?"
Erenquaro hesitated. "I should change the themes of my Song?"
Sauron raised one eyebrow. "It's something you haven't tried yet, have you not?"
Erenquaro nodded slowly. "I guess not."
"Think of it this way," Sauron continued, noting the confusion still on Erenquaro's face. "If a poet sat down to write a poem, would he not write about something that stirs his passions? Or if an artist picked up a brush to make a painting, would he not paint something important to him? The greatest works of art are the ones that come from closest in the heart, and this is a work of art just as much as a poem or a painting." He gestured with his hand. "Sing about what fills your heart."
Erenquaro gathered himself before beginning his Song again, taking in a deep breath that swelled his chest deeply in and out. After a moment, he began to sing, but this time the themes had changed. The themes of frustration that had been merely a hint in his prior Songs were brought to the forefront now, and there were other themes as well. He sang of the deep ache of missing when he thought of his old work of lifting the heavy bags of gems under the glowing heat of the sun. He sang of a wish for belonging and understanding for his place in the Great Theme. And most interestingly to Sauron, he sang of the resentment of having his life controlled at every turn he made.
Sauron allowed him to establish his melody before he once again entered with his own Song. Erenquaro's Song wavered as Sauron's themes struck against his, but held out. Sauron pressed his Song even harder against Erenquaro's, but Erenquaro strove back, his will pouring into the notes on his lips. Finally however, Sauron gained the upper hand once again, but this time Erenquaro's Song fizzled out more slowly than before, leaving a shimmer of residual power in its wake.
Sauron was nodding as he ended his own Song. "Excellent. Did you feel the difference?"
Erenquaro was still frowning, though he no longer radiated the same level of irritation. "You still beat my Song."
Sauron turned to the cabinet where they stored all the materials of smithcraft and slid open the lock. "And I would continue to do so for as long as we continued the challenge, but that was not the point of the lesson. The point was to illustrate to you both the focus and strength of will required for such a task and, more importantly, the nature of this particular use of your power. The stronger the themes are for you, the stronger they will be in your work. Weak themes will only lead to weak creations. If you wish to create objects of true power, it must begin with the power of your mind and your heart."
Sauron lifted the gold ingot resting on the top of the pile and placed it carefully in the crucible. His fingertips ghosted over the bright surface for a moment before he turned back to Erenquaro.
"Craft me a simple armband today, but use the themes of your will in it."
Over the next hour, Erenquaro labored away, both with his hands and his will. Sauron stood behind him, just inside the ring of fire light, a tall, dark, and watchful shadow. The heat shimmered around the forge, almost as intense as Sauron's stare as he watched Erenquaro lean over the anvil, engulfed in the heat, shaping the gold he had been given into a simple bracelet.
Erenquaro's themes were much the same as they had been in his last Song: simple frustration at his own lack of skill and power, a love for Aulë's domain and his old role in it, and a surprisingly intense longing for a place where he would belong. And running through the entire thing was that undercurrent of resentment: a swelling bitterness over the change in his fortunes and the one who had caused it.
The resulting bracelet was of no better quality than the ring Erenquaro had forged yesterday. Dent marks scarred it all over and it was decidedly bent on one side, but Sauron was not concerned. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, appraising it with a practiced eye. Stretching out his mind, he brushed his will against it, sensing what lay underneath the dented golden surface. Faint strains of power and an echo of Erenquaro's will stirred slowly within as Sauron's mind skimmed against it. It was less than Sauron had hoped for, and he had not hoped for much, but it would have to do, for now at least.
He stretched his hand back out to Erenquaro, offering him back his trinket. "It is a start, and the more you practice, the better your results will become. I am very pleased with the outcome of this lesson."
Erenquaro took the bracelet back, his expression brightening incrementally. "Really? You're pleased with it?"
Sauron smiled demurely. "Your training has only just begun, but there is promise. I believe there is a strength in your will that few others have deigned to see, including yourself perhaps." He leaned forward, letting his expression and tone of voice turn sympathetic and knowing. "I understand this apprenticeship is not what you want. I cannot say that I am a stranger to the feeling, and I know how frustrating such a burden can be. However, for the time being, we both find ourselves duty-bound to carry out the wills of those in authority over us, whether it is what our hearts truly desire or not. But try not to let it concern you overmuch. I know it may not be easy, but my advice is to do your best to take advantage of this time while it is afforded to you. There is much I can teach you."
He straightened and began to clean the workspace, gathering up tools in his arms and placing them back neatly in the cabinet. "That will conclude our lesson for today, Erenquaro. Well done."
Erenquaro hesitated for a moment, then he started walking away towards the stairs that led up to the exit to the Forges. Out of the corner of his eye, Sauron watched him go and noted when the younger Maia slipped the gold bracelet onto his forearm. A thin smile curved Sauron's lips, then he turned back to finish cleaning the workspace.
~o~o~o~
Erenquaro fiddled with the gold armband resting against his skin as he exited the Forges of Aulë out into the bright sunlight of late afternoon. Despite Sauron's assurances to the contrary, he was fairly certain that both his ring from yesterday and his bracelet today left a good deal to be desired. Even if he himself was not well versed in smithcraft, he'd seen enough of his brother's works over the years to know that his didn't come anywhere close. But despite his self-doubts and frustrations, there was still something he could not shake.
Sauron's praise felt good.
Sauron believed in him…or at least he seemed to. He'd been warned by multiple people not to trust anything Sauron said or did, but there was just something about him and his words that drew Erenquaro in. Occasionally, Erenquaro even wondered if maybe all the things other people said about Sauron were just as twisted as they claimed all Sauron's words were.
He knew Sauron had done some very bad things, it wasn't that he didn't believe that. Even though he himself hadn't gone to Beleriand to fight in the War, he'd still heard plenty of the stories from those who had. He knew Sauron had betrayed all of them, that he had aided their Enemy, and that he had spent an Age wreaking terror on the Children in Beleriand.
But he had come back to Valinor of his own accord in the end and he seemed to be trying his best to make amends for what he'd done. He'd come back seeking forgiveness, and Eru knew he seemed to be receiving precious little of it from his fellow Maiar. Sure, Sauron was abrasive and more than a little bit scary at times, but Erenquaro didn't understand the deep hatred that his brother and others like him were constantly directing at Sauron.
In fact, if he were completely honest, Sauron was nicer to him than Curumo was.
The moment he thought it, guilt flared in his chest and he ducked his head, his spirit feeling leaden. That wasn't fair. Yes, talking to Curumo almost always left a strange, shrinking feeling inside of him, like he was small and stupid, but his brother had looked out for him his entire life in Arda. Despite being brothers, they were different, and he couldn't fault Curumo for those differences that made him uncomfortable sometimes. Curumo was just trying his best to make sure Erenquaro reached his full potential, to make sure Erenquaro got his due.
You mean that Curumo makes sure he gets his due.
The thought bubbled up from some deep recess in Erenquaro's fëa, so forcefully that it stopped Erenquaro in his tracks. Ever since his Song battle with Sauron, his emotions seemed to be running higher than he was used to. He twisted the armband against his skin again. The themes of the Song that he'd used to craft the golden jewelry were still pulsing through his spirit. Something had been coaxed out of him through his music that he had barely even registered before.
He was angry at Curumo.
And not just angry. There was something else, a quieter but no less potent sensation: a bitter, roiling feeling that settled heavy in his stomach and made his chest hurt. He'd been perfectly happy with his simple life and his simple job of transporting and sorting the gems, but that hadn't been good enough for Curumo. Erenquaro's happiness had never been good enough. And had Curumo listened when he'd tried to explain? No, of course he'd just talked over Erenquaro the way he always did. Curumo always knew everything, always had a slick, practiced answer for everything, except that he didn't. He didn't know what Erenquaro truly wanted. How could he? He never listened.
But Sauron…Sauron listened. Sauron made him feel heard and seen in a way he'd always longed for Curumo to give him but that his older brother never did. Sure, Sauron had snapped at him in the past, but he'd shown Erenquaro nothing but patience these last few days during which time Erenquaro was reasonably certain that he hadn't been performing particularly well. Sauron understood that the life of a smith was not what Erenquaro longed for, but he was helping him make the best of this situation that he could. And, well, Sauron could sympathize in a way Curumo never could. Curumo had never been forced into a situation where he felt he did not belong and where everything felt wrong. Curumo's life was perfect and shiny; he always got whatever he wanted. While on the other hand, Sauron knew exactly what it was like to be living a life that felt like a lie. He'd seen that dull, exhausted resignation in Sauron's eyes every day as he headed down into the quarry. Now Erenquaro knew exactly what that felt like.
Resentment. That was the other emotion he felt towards Curumo.
Why couldn't his brother have just left him well enough alone?
He knew why. He was an embarrassment to Curumo the way he was. And so his brother had to shape him in his own image, to transform his awkward, simple brother into a Maia of whom he could be proud.
But Erenquaro did not want to be like Curumo.
He crossed the courtyard to the colonnade and started towards the dormitory wing where he could clean the soot out of his hair before supper.
He hadn't seen Curumo since three days ago when his older brother had stormed out of the Forges after discovering that Sauron was to be his teacher, and he'd been noticeably absent from the Forges the last two days while Sauron had been instructing him. That was odd; Curumo rarely missed days at the Forges. It probably meant his mind was clicking and clacking like some great machine, churning out schemes for making Erenquaro's life even more miserable. Briefly, he'd wondered if Curumo would be angry enough to demand to Lord Aulë that Erenquaro's apprenticeship be terminated, and he could then go back to his carts and his gems and be left in peace. But that wouldn't satisfy Curumo, he knew. His brother would see that as a defeat to his grand plans for Erenquaro, just as surely as he viewed Erenquaro being assigned to Sauron. No, if Curumo was up to anything, it was probably trying to get him transferred to one of the other master smiths. Erenquaro made a face. The thought of being condescended to and lectured by one of Curumo's stuffy friends – dull Tulcaromon or mean-spirited Vantanwë – was utterly unbearable.
If he had to be an apprentice smith, he wanted to stay with Sauron.
Another flare of anger lit his heart, this one surprisingly hot and intense. Curumo thought he could push Erenquaro around however he pleased and shape Erenquaro's life into whatever he wanted. What was Erenquaro? A child's doll to be played with however its owner pleased? Maybe…maybe Sauron was right. Maybe Curumo didn't have all the power over Erenquaro that Erenquaro had always granted him.
He clinched his fists. Curumo always got his way, always got the last say, always danced his ring of fancy words around him. But maybe that was because Erenquaro had always let him. Curumo was his brother and had always looked out for him, but ultimately Curumo wasn't his Lord.
As Erenquaro headed into the dormitory wing, he almost hoped he'd run into his brother. Because the next time they met, things were going to be different.
~o~o~o~
Two days had passed uneventfully since Erenquaro had made the bracelet laced with the oils of the tulníra and nárelót flowers, and Sauron was resigning himself to the fact that he'd run into yet another dead end. He'd watched Erenquaro carefully during their last two lessons together but hadn't been able to discern any difference in the young Maia's behavior. He sighed to himself. The idea had been a long shot. Most likely the oils were too diluted in the gold to have any effect. He'd hoped that Erenquaro's Song and the fire's heat would activate and enhance whatever powers over the mind and will that the flower oils had, but it seemed that yet again he'd been foiled.
He watched Erenquaro shaping his project for the day, a gold ring set with a plain gem, and made sure to keep his face neutral but inwardly he scowled to himself. It was possible he could still find other uses for Yavanna's plants, but he'd truly hoped that this method would work. If he could secretly infuse the gold with various combinations of oils that would have different effects and then use Erenquaro to enhance their powers, he'd have opened up a whole realm of possibilities. It was true that the objects would all be relatively weak, nowhere near as powerful as anything he could have created himself with his spirit unbound, but beggars couldn't be choosers. If he could even faintly influence the emotions and wills of others through such objects, he'd consider that a win.
If it didn't work however, it would mean he was back at the starting point with no clear idea of where to turn next. He cursed mentally. It really did seem that he was doomed to fail, no matter what he tried or did.
He attempted to shake off his bad mood and stepped forward to help Erenquaro with his technique. He'd seen little to no improvement in Erenquaro's talent (or lack thereof) over the past few days, but it had only been a very short time. Still, Sauron wasn't about to hold his breath that Erenquaro was going to transform into a master smith anytime in the foreseeable future.
But even so, something tickled at the back of his thoughts. As questionable as the quality of his apprentice was, he had to admit…it was nice being able to teach again.
Sauron reached out and stopped Erenquaro as he lifted his hand to swing the hammer again and adjusted the younger Maia's stance. "You'll ruin your wrist if you keep pounding like that. Let each blow flow all the way up your arm, absorbing each strike." As he spoke, he took Erenquaro's wrist in his hand to demonstrate what he meant. As he did so, he felt something hard underneath Erenquaro's sleeve, wrapped around his wrist.
Sauron paused for only a split second before continuing his instructions smoothly as if nothing had occurred. But inside, his interest had flared up again.
So, Erenquaro was still wearing his bracelet. Interesting. Interesting indeed.
The rest of the lesson continued without incident, and when Sauron released his apprentice for the day, they walked out of the Forges together.
"How do you feel about your training so far?" Sauron asked as they exited the Forges.
"I don't know," Erenquaro answered. "I don't feel like I'm getting any better."
"It's only been five days. That is very little time to see progress in whatever undertaking you might have, large or small, and smithcraft is no easy skill. But you no longer swing the hammer with every ounce of your strength."
That brought a little smile out of Erenquaro. "Then I'm not a total lost cause?"
Sauron raised an eyebrow. "Not quite." They walked in silence a few steps, then Sauron commented. "I noticed you've chosen to wear your bracelet."
Erenquaro faltered, and his hand strayed instantly to his opposite wrist. "Oh, er, yes," he stammered, sounding a little embarrassed. "I know it's not very good, but I guess…I…" He shrugged. "I don't know why I've kept it."
"It's good to be proud of your work, at whatever stage it might be," Sauron said. "It is something you crafted, with your own hands and your own will, and it is no evil to take pride in it." He held up his hand, letting Erenquaro see the simple gold ring on his finger. "This was the first ring I forged after returning to Valinor. It is hardly my greatest masterpiece and yet I find it…comforting."
Erenquaro was silent for a moment as they walked, then he said, "Why did you return to Valinor?"
Sauron froze mid-step for a split second, suspicious alarm bells going off in his mind. What purpose would Erenquaro have for such a question? What business of his was it? He shoved down the alarm and the sparks of anger twisted around it. Most likely, he reminded himself, Erenquaro had meant nothing by the question and had not realized he was prying into a sensitive area of Sauron's life. Making sure to keep his tone smooth and devoid of irritation, he replied, "I had many reasons for returning."
Erenquaro fidgeted with his sleeve. "Well, I'm glad you came back. I know most people here aren't, but if it wasn't for you, I'd have gotten stuck being the apprentice to one of Curumo's snooty friends."
This time, Sauron kept walking without missing a step, but a strange feeling settled in his chest, like something soft curling around his heart.
Sauron was instantly distracted however by a sardonic voice hailing them from the colonnade. "And what do we have here? The Deceiver of Morgoth finished with his lesson for the day? And what is it you've been teaching my poor, malleable little brother today? Perhaps you've been instructing him in the finer points of creating dungeon bars? Or maybe you've been teaching him how to construct devices to torment the Children? But then again, I can't imagine any dungeon or torture worse than being forced to take any instruction from one such as you."
Sauron barely glanced at Curumo as he entered the colonnade. "Today's lesson was comprised of how to set gems, if you're so keen to know."
Curumo fell into step beside Sauron, though not deigning to look at him. "Setting gems?" he scoffed. "That seems a little basic for nearly a week into his training. I'm sure Tulcaromon or Ilsahon would have made sure he mastered such a basic skill before the first day's end."
Sauron gave a thin smile. "I am proceeding at the pace that the student requires, as any good teacher would."
Curumo sneered. "Are you suggesting that Erenquaro is a poor student? I know my brother can be slow, but he is still my brother and I require results that reflect that truth."
"You know, you don't have to talk about me like I'm not here."
Both Sauron and Curumo stopped and turned. Erenquaro had fallen back and had been trailing behind them, but now he'd planted himself in the middle of the colonnade. His brow was drawn down and his hands had curled up into fists.
"What?" Curumo asked, sounding equal parts huffy and surprised.
Erenquaro didn't budge from his spot. "I said you can stop talking about me like I'm not here. I can hear everything you're saying about me, you know."
Immediately, Curumo's slick façade slid into place. "Well, then you know I'm doing nothing other than what I've always done for you, Erenquaro: looking out for you when no one else seems to care. Is it wrong that your brother should be concerned for your wellbeing or that he should wish the best for you?"
"If you wanted what was best for me, you would have listened when I told you I didn't want to be a smith," Erenquaro shot back. His voice was a little unsteady, just like the first theme of his Song had been, but his stance was firm and unmovable. "I was happy with my life the way it was."
Sauron remained perfectly still, his eyes darting between the two Maiar, his face smooth as a gold ingot.
Now Curumo's brow creased and his voice took on a slight edge. "We already had this discussion, Erenquaro. You only think you were satisfied with that quaint little life of yours because you refuse to dream bigger for yourself, as would befit the brother of your Lord Aulë's head smith. Now, I have no doubt that your experience this past week with smithcraft has been understandably less than ideal, but if we were to get you a proper teacher, that would change. Now, if you were to speak to Lord Aulë about the lack of quality in your current instruction, I'm sure he would see sense and be willing to reassign you to Tulcaromon or-"
"I want to stay with Sauron."
Curumo looked like Erenquaro had slapped him across the face. Shock registered on his face, but it instantly dissipated in a dark cloud of rage. "This has gone far enough, Erenquaro. Now you don't even know what you're saying."
Anger finally showed on Erenquaro's face. "I know exactly what I'm saying. Stop trying to make me think that I can't think for myself. I want to stay with Sauron."
"And I don't know what dark entanglements Sauron is weaving around your mind," Curumo snarled back, "but you clearly do not have the strength of will to resist it. You were never so dull-witted nor so insolent with me before Sauron began whispering his poison into your ears. Is this how you repay everything I have done for you? You would have been utterly overwhelmed and lost when you first came down to Arda had I not taken you under my guidance and helped you adjust to your new existence. Why would you wish to disgrace your own brother in this manner, to side with the one who betrayed us all, who served the Great Enemy, who reflects his shadow of darkness over all of Valinor? Your mind is clearly addled."
"Sauron doesn't call me 'slow'," Erenquaro answered. "Sauron treats me like I can make my own decisions about my life."
The younger Maia drew himself up to his not unimpressive full height, his broad shoulders squared. His strong jaw jutted out firmly. "Lord Aulë assigned me to Sauron, and I trust Lord Aulë. And I think Sauron's doing a good job. I don't want to be assigned to Tulcaromon or Ilsahon or Vantanwë." Erenquaro took a step forward, his expression determined. His hand strayed, as if unconsciously, to his wrist. "You're not my Lord, Curumo, and you don't rule my life."
With that, Erenquaro turned and marched off in the opposite direction, leaving behind a Curumo whose jaw had nearly dropped and whose eyes blazed with fury. But for once, the silver-tongued Maia appeared speechless.
For a second, he merely goggled after his younger brother but then he whirled on Sauron. His eyes glinted like poisoned daggers. "I don't know what you've done to him," he snarled, his face twisting into something bestial, "but you're not getting away with it. You will pay for this indignation, Abhorred One."
Sauron made no response, his face still glassy smooth and unruffled. Curumo whirled around in a swirl of dark blue robes and black hair and stormed off in the opposite direction that Erenquaro had taken. For a moment, Sauron remained standing still in the middle of the now-deserted colonnade, then he turned slowly and sauntered casually towards the dormitory wing.
~o~o~o~
It was only when he reached the safe privacy of his quarters that Sauron allowed the wolfish grin inside to break outwardly across his face. He collapsed across his bed, wild bubbles of laughter rising up from deep within. He could only imagine how unhinged he probably sounded, but he didn't care at the moment.
The look on Curumo's face!
The crazed laughter faded away, but Sauron remained on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his chest rose and fell rapidly, his sharp mind already working.
It was hard to tell if Erenquaro's outburst had been a result of the bracelet or the ideas Sauron had been subtly feeding him (or, most likely, some combination of both) but that did not matter all too much at the present. Further tests to make that determination could be devised. What truly mattered was that it had worked. Finally, something Sauron had set his mind to had actually born him sweet fruit.
He rolled gracefully up into a sitting position and put a hand to his chin, thinking hard. He was fairly certain the bracelet must have had something to do with Erenquaro's eruption of emotion. He'd never seen Erenquaro talk back to anyone, let alone stand up for himself in the manner Sauron had just observed. The effects of the bracelet must have given him the push he needed to finally let loose the things that had been building up inside of him.
Sauron retrieved his notebook from the hidden alcove in the floor and eagerly flicked it open. Feverishly, he began to write, recalling everything he could of what he had just witnessed before the memory began to fade. By the time he was done, his hands were trembling.
What could this mean for him? What could he achieve through this discovery? Whose emotions could he twist to his own benefit? What people could he set one against the other with a mere suggestion? Who could he sway to his own sympathy? Was it possible that in time he could even recreate some remnant of his own Bound powers?
He took a deep breath, forcefully calming his racing thoughts. He had to proceed carefully and logically. More research was needed for now, both in the form of more reading and in more direct experimentation. It would do him no good to jump to his endgame before he had barely even started. With time, he guessed he would be able to discover ways to increase the potency of the plants he used, and it was possible that different combinations could create even more powerful effects. But that would take both time and a great deal of work.
For now, he needed to continue to keep his head down, to watch and wait with eyes like a hunter's, laying the foundations of his schemes until it was time to pull the noose of his trap tight around his enemy's throats.
Then he would watch them scream and thrash!
What mattered most was that he had a way forward. For the first time since he'd stepped foot in Valinor and his spirit had been Bound, he felt a faint bubble of hope form deep, deep inside his chest. He knew better than to trust to that hope too deeply, but for the first time, he did not feel completely and utterly powerless.
He let his notebook drop back down onto his bed as he stared out the window. The shadows of evening were lengthening over the plains of Valmar and the tendrils of darkness were closing in around the Halls of Aulë. Sauron smiled to himself.
Let the Valar watch their step. Sauron was back on the hunt again.
~o~o~o~
Curumo's face was a dark storm of anger as he moodily nursed a glass a red wine at the corner table in The Sun Chariot in Valmar. He was oblivious to the bustle of the popular tavern around him, blind to the general gaiety of the mingling elves and Maiar, deaf to the cheerful music being played from the far side of the room by the roaring fire. His mind replayed the scene that had taken place in the colonnade two hours prior over and over and over, an endless loop feeding his rage.
"So, what are we going to do?" Tulcaromon asked. Curumo's three compatriots looked to the head smith, eyes glinting with vicious interest.
Curumo brought his fist down on the table, barely even noticing the pain of the jolt that shot up his arm. His hand shook with fury. "He's made a mockery of all of us!" he fumed. "Lord Aulë clearly intends to do nothing, so I say it's time we take matters into our own hands."
"What's the plan?" Vantanwë asked, her green eyes narrowing eagerly. "How are you going to make him pay?"
Curumo's fist was so tight that his knuckles were turning white. "Two things," he sneered through gritted teeth. "First, we figure out how he's manipulating my dim-witted little brother and end this ridiculous farce of an apprenticeship. I will see him assigned to one of you."
"And what's the second thing?" Ilsahon asked when Curumo did not continue for a long moment.
A bitter, vicious smile cut across Curumo's face and his dark eyes shone with malice. "Second, we figure out where Sauron's weakness is." The Maiarin smith's voice went low, melodic and dangerous. "And when we do, we stab him there as hard as we can."