TOLKIEN; imagines

36: The Bird Among the Flames - Sauron

46. "You did this for me?"

54. "This is the first time I've seen you cry. I don't like it in the slightest."

A/N: Just so you know this is kind of centered around Mairon, which is basically Sauron in the Silmarillion kind of. Just bare with me please, because I haven't really read all of the Silmarillion yet, so...

Abbreviations: Y/N L/N: Your full name

Warnings: Insults to the reader, blood, minor injury

Words: 2200 (its a little long, sorry)

The servants in Angband were the cruelest, but that was to be expected, seeing as they were ruled over by the Dark Lord, Melkor. I had grown accustomed to it after the being raised in the unreasonably cramped maid's quarters and having lived under the harshness of the Dark Lord and Mairon's comments. Well, at least the rest of Angband's subjects were ridiculed by both. The only criticism I received was from Melkor, taking into account my relationship status. I was Mairon's lover, therefore he loved me endlessly, just as I did him, our love so immense that there was no room for negative comments or conflicts.

But any thought of my lover had slipped my mind as the events of my day wore on, for it was all too much for me to handle.

I had woken to thunderous bangs from above, a sure sign of rain to come. The storms sent by Manwe always put a damper on the great flames that thundered deep within the forges of Angband and therefore, putting every serving person at risk of Melkor's wrath, for he demanded his corner of Arda ran fluidly and without flaw.

Even my beloved Mairon was at risk, seeing as he worked in the depths of the forges themselves, when he wasn't standing at Melkor's side. Those pits of exceptional heat was where Mairon was today, I was sure of it, even though I hadn't seen him at all this pitiful morn.

I got into my maid's clothing-old, ragged and torn sheets that had been sewn by the original owners to retain at least a fraction of their dignity, but they had eventually morphed into more dress resembling paraphernalia and were passed down to new maids when the old died-and left for the kitchens, attending to my duties of cooking the morning feast for Melkor and his council.

An assortment of dishes was prepared but after wasting 2,000 years of my life making the same cuisine had taken their toll. I no longer remembered the dishes' names, only how to cook them, and that's what I referred to, in order to get a plate-multiple plates, actually-in front of the Dark Lord by the appointed time. 

By the time I was finished the sun was just beginning to show itself from behind the mountains, proving how early I had woken to serve my master, another proof of such things were the dark circles around my eyes that made me resemble closely with the gaunt looking rats that scurried through the walls, picking off extra bits of food from the kitchens.

I had begun to set the table when Melkor and his various council members entered, all giving me distasteful glares as I scurried about the table making adjustments to the arrangements before making an attempt to return to the kitchens with a glass that seemed to have a speck of wine left on its otherwise flawless surface, a blemish that must have missed being cleaned by some of the lower maids.

But when I turned around Melkor himself stood before me, his dark eyes burning with an icy vengeance into my soul, a look that caused me to utter a small squeak and without thinking, both hands flew to my mouth, leaving the glass to fall and shatter against the polished title, its glistening shards scattering about Melkor's feet brokenly.

"My lord, I am terribly sorry. I-I will clean this up immediately," I stuttered, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.

I ran back to the kitchen to retrieve the cleaning supplies all the while trying to hold back the onslaught of tears that threatened to careen down my face in eternal rapids.