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Dec 28, 2009, 10:19am

-|- The Return of the King -|- :: Land of the Men :: Arnor :: Silver Eyes

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Topic: Silver Eyes (Read 113 times)

Maglor
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Second son of Feanor ~ Bard and Warrior

Joined: Dec 2006
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Location: The Shores of Middle Earth
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Silver Eyes
« Thread Started on Dec 8, 2006, 10:28am »

Be aware this contains non graphic allusions to abuse and torture. Thankyou.

He came for him in the morning, or at least Maglor had judged it morning, from the time he had been taken, and brought here, but here there was no light.... only dark.
He thought he had sounded the depths of despair the night before, when he had seen the titanic walls and spikes of Barad Dur rising into the fume-red sky, black upon grey. He felt almost physically battered by the nature of it; the huge, iron black slabs of windowless stone, light-less, unyielding, fortress of a Power.
He had been thrown into some subterranean room and left until now. And he had waited, and come to the certitude that the terrors and grief he had endured were but a shelf on a long way down and the bottom was invisible yet in the darkness, but waiting. he was going there.
And at that moment He was there, he had come and Maglor felt his mind begin to peel open like a fruit, fighting against it , and then was stricken with the ease with which he was exposed. He was in his fortress, he was his. He would be smashed on the anvil of Saurons hate.
He had vowed to utter no word or plea.
From before time he had come, servant to one yet greater, and the endless years had only served to refine the cruelty which was within him and this tall Noldo, although worn from millenia of grief, was of those he hated, and he was beautiful as all the Eldar were, on whom lay Saurons hatred. Facing hate, and a blank, obliterating power, Maglor saw that his physical shape had been made huge, eyes burning like dry ice, but also fair, for once Sauron had been so. Maglor met the eyes with his own silver ones, blazing.
' You will have nothing of me that you do not take!'

And in that foul place a fire and beauty blazed like Light unleashed, white with courage and fierce clarity.
But this was the stronghold of the Dark,the deepest place of his power and he said ' but I will take everything. And then he changed shape, to become... his father.
You sent the mind away, they said, when tortured, or raped, you send the mind, after a while into another place, far from where pain is.As far as you can , to love, the memory of it, a spar for clinging to.
But Maglor could not, for everywhere he went Sauron was there, here was no escape in love, even so far back in childhood - for Sauron became every-one, his six brothers, his mother...
Everything. He was taking everything.... it went on so long that time unhinged among the pain, the probing of his deepest mental places as if with a trowel, effortlessly. He knew he went mad, but he said nothing, He was sure he said nothing.
And then, when it was over, he was in another room, no cell, but well furnished, rich black and red silks, a window - barred - which showed fiery red sky. Some-one was bathing him, drawing silk sheets over him, forcing a rich red wine to his lips. Not Sauron - he felt, unless he had again changed shape. This one looked like a Noldor, luminously blue eyes, blue-black soft, thick curls of hair, strange tattoos swirled over golden skin.
' Makalaure, come back. ' His voice too had been beautiful, speaking in Quenya, a tongue he himself had not spoken in so very long. The man - although he was not, Maglor's shattered mind did sense that - ran slender fingers over bruised flesh, although most of the pain was internal.
' Elves heal fast, Makalaure ' The one called Tar had said, and indeed they did, they had to, because of what they were , made to endure as long as the world. And Tar spoke to him, as the days went past.
And after that it was very bad.
Sauron had not been able to break him with violence, or with cruelty - so now he handed it over to his son, who was far more subtle, far more dangerous. He exuded a dark magnetic force like the pull of some giant planet, a sensual eroticism, which he used to far more affect than brutality , and he used that to twist Maglor into desiring the very thing he hated, the skilled torturer and the tortured, bonded together by pain, a pain which Tar twisted into terrible pleasure.
I am going to give you something to hate, Makalaure, something to live for!

Sauron himself came forth, but Maglor did not know that, nor did he truly know that Tar had waited until his father left then taken the Noldo from Barad Dur, - and Isildur cut the one ring from his hand.
Maglor came to himself lying in rubble, beside a sink of polluted water, hearing clear Elven voices.
Elves from Imladris were searching for survivors, and finding him, they carried him back to their encampment.
It was Elrond who knew him, and Glorfindel, for in the First Age, when Maedhros and Maglor had, to claim the last two Silmarils, swept down on the havens of Sirion and slain their kindred, they had captured the young Elrond and Elros, - but Maglor had come to love the children as his own, and treated them so.
He heard Elrond asking what had happened, but could not speak - he was dumb until they reached Imladris, when Elrond went into his mind - and then he had to be restrained for fear of the violence he would do to himself. His body was strong, and soon regained its native strength, but his mind was damaged. And even now, three thousand years later , as he dwelt in Lindon, he would start out of sleep, cold and shaking, blasted with self loathing and horror.

He clung to hate as if it were the only thing left to him, yet he could not admit, although he knew it, - that Saurons torment would have caused him to fade, and Tar had replaced that with a burning hatred for him to live for.

tbc

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