The throne was cold that day. I usually prefer it that way: it keeps me focused. The life essence of Arda still gnaws at me: its changeableness forces me to ever gaze on it. It is like a sparkling bauble catching your eye. I do not welcome the distraction as I have many plans to unfold, before I can grasp all of Arda again in my lover's embrace; yet, I have a need to possess this world utterly. I need to consume it. It is mine.
But today my mind was not on those designs. It was on a figure, slight and ethereal, who had dared to come to my seat, to my throne. Luthien.
I knew of her mother, of course, as she once walked the forests of Valinor just as I, before she fled to Middle-Earth and ensnared herself in the eyes of a lowly Firstborn. But her story had always interested me. What would be the result of such issue, between a Firstborn Elf and a Maia? Magnificence, I suspected. And it seems I was right.
She came with courage right to my gates, swathed in a batform hand in hand with the most dishevelled and grovelling of werewolves, believing that I, the Elder King, would be deceived. But I am not as those lesser and I see more clearly.
I saw past the fell of my dear Thuringwethil and spied that there was something else underneath. Something that was not a bat. She lied, of course, as is the wont of those Elves but I knew that she sought to deceive.
She spoke then with quavering tone, telling me that she had flown from Taur-na-Fuin with tidings but I knew this was not so. I stripped her of her skin and left her soul and face revealed, standing there a-quiver.
But even clothed in her terror she was magnificent. O Luthien. She was tall with dark hair of a raven wing, flowing and sweeping so long. Her skin was pale but her eyes were as if they were aflame. Her raiment was dark with scattered hints of starlight. O Magnificence.
She started to sing of sleep and sweet twilight slumber. Her song meandered and melted across the floor, submerging my thralls into nothingness. My hall went dark as the fires subsided into sleep. Silence fell.
But I did not sleep. My eye was not tamed by her song, nor was I wholly ensnared by her beauty. But it did draw me in and I wondered at the serendipity of this gift, of her arriving at my hall. My prize.
Why was she here? How came she to be here?
I looked on her and I thought, and I found inspiration within those fired eyes. This was a creature that I could ensnare, that I could taste and change and use up as if she was a butterfly brimming with life sap. I would drink from her, I decided. This was my boon.
I reached out my hand to snatch her up, to wrench this delicate flower from her garden and keep her with me in the dark. But she shrank from me, moving into the shadows.
"Not thus, O King!" She quavered so tremulously, and asked me to attend to her song.
She took up her gossamer wings and began to dance, weaving her way around me and singing a new song, a different melody this time, of bright silver streams that led to my dark, dark dreams.
She danced and now around me my great Balrog Lords and Orc Lieutenants one by one stilled, eyes emptying, their spirits fleeing. But not mine. My brows grew heavy as I watched her dance, considering how I would use this prize.
I could keep her beside me as my dark Consort, her light could corrupt and darken even the lightest hearts. For a time, I would worship her, until eventually of course, I would consume her soul. She danced and I gazed, and my mind started to slip into a twilight of dreams.
Hearken! So sang her dance as she moved faster and faster. I slipped away, heedless of my great crown falling from my kingly brow with a rolling crash. Silence fell on me and I strayed into endless starlit dreams. There would be time for conquest later, with the Lady Luthien at my side.
Magnificence at my side.
O Magnificence…
