At the Edge of the Precipice

by Cirdan

Rated: R

Maedhros was brought before Morgoth in chains. A beam of wood rested on his shoulders behind his head, and his arms were bound to that beam. He had been stripped of his armor and came before the Throne of Angband in his underclothing, and that had hung in tatters about him because of the whips of the Balrogs. Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, forced the son of Feanor onto his knees before the Throne.

"Maedhros, Eldest Son of Feanor, certainly by now you see the folly of the boasts of Feanor," said Morgoth. His voice was dark and deep but still powerful. Maedhros felt himself compelled to listen, to obey. "Serve me, and I will spare the Noldor. I am not a fool. I see clearly the skill of the Noldor, and it is of great use to me. I would have your people build for me a kingdom more glorious than Valinor. Yay, and I will even allow your people to dwell in it as my thralls. But defy me, and I will hunt the Noldor like mere beasts."

"Do with me as you will, but I will not bend to your will," Maedhros said.

"Will you not?" Morgoth smiled, and the throneroom seemed to fall chill. The black eyes of Morgoth pierced Maedhros's mind. Already on his knees, Maedhros now fell onto his face. He felt powerless and unable to breathe. It was like that time in Valinor when the Black Cloud had attacked Formenos and the sons of Feanor had been powerless to aid their grandfather Finwe. "You will yet submit," said the voice that seemed to be whispering next to his very ear. "And then you will betray your people."

Maedhros's eyes flared. He twisted his head from the floor so that he could meet Morgoth's dark eyes. The Dark Lord hesitated for a moment, for in those eyes was the Light of the Silmarils. The Iron Crown weighed heavily on Morgoth's head and the burning that never ceased became more painful. The Dark Lord grimaced. At that, Maedhros smiled.

"I will not submit to you, Morgoth, Black Foe of the World," Maedhros managed through gritted teeth. "Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean, brood of Morgoth or bright Vala, Elda or Maia or Aftercomer, Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth, neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not Doom itself, shall defend him from Feanor, and Feanor's kin, who so hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a Silmaril." At each syllable, said with crisp enunciation, as was the wont of Feanor's sons, Morgoth felt the Silmarils sear his supposed immortal flesh. They filled the throneroom with brilliance that drove away his foul servants, and even Gothmog retreated with howls of pain.

Maedhros continued, "This swear we all: death we will deal him ere Day's ending, woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou, Eru All-Father!" The mention of Eru caused Morgoth to writhe in agony. The Silmarils upon the Iron Crown weighed more than a mountain upon his head. He cast it off. The crown bounced once on the floor and then skidded until it hit the wall and lay still.

Still, Maedhros continued, "To the everlasting Darkness doom us if our deed faileth. On the holy mountain hear in witness our vow remember, Manwe and Varda!"

"Silence!" Morgoth roared. A lightning bolt shot forth from his hand and struck Maedhros. The beam upon his shoulders snapped in two and became charred. Maedhros gasped for breath but was inwardly pleased with himself. The Silmarils had recognized him. Morgoth rose from his throne and kicked Maedhros. He then retrieved the Iron Crown and placed it atop his head. Maedhros could see the damage upon Morgoth's hands, and Morgoth's face became contorted as the crown again weighed heavily and burned with the power of the Silmarils, but he did not remove the crown. "I will not kill you, son of Feanor. If you will not serve me, then you shall toil in my dungeons and watch as I crush the Noldor." Then Morgoth stormed from the throneroom.

After several moments, a servant of Morgoth came to take Maedhros away. Maedhros did not move. His face was still pressed to the cold floor. The encounter had been too much for him. He felt drained. His knees were like water. Part of him did not want to live, but he knew that he had to if there was to be any chance of fighting Morgoth another day. He feared what Morgoth would do and prayed that the sons of Feanor would be able to withstand him. The servant of Morgoth eased him up gently.

"Maitimo, you should not have angered the Dark Lord." The voice was melodious, as Morgoth's had once been, and Maedhros was surprised to recognize it. He tried to look, but every movement made his neck ache. "Try not to move," said Morgoth's servant. He stepped into Maedhros's line of sight.

"Maimaite," Maedhros said.

Maimaite nodded and said, "It is I."

Maedhros knew this servant of Morgoth from the House of Aule. Maimaite was a Maia and a student of the forge. Like all the Maia, he was beautiful. He'd chosen a form like that of the Noldor, and so his hair was as dark as charcoal and eyes grey but bright. More lovely than his incarnate form, though, were the works of his hands, and so the Eldar called him Maimaite, the Beautiful-handed. Once, long ago, he and Feanor had been close in friendship. Maedhros's eyes narrowed.

"So that's how Morgoth knew of the location of the Silmarils," Maedhros said.

"Oh, please, Maitimo," Maimaite said. "There were only two Noldorin cities, and it wasn't hard to guess in which was hidden the Silmarils. Yes, I did tell my Master about the chamber of iron, but even if I had not he would have wrecked all of Formenos and found the Jewels of Feanor."

"Master?" Maedhros snorted. "So then you serve the Dark Lord now."

"I do." Maimaite unchained Maedhros and picked him up like a babe. The power of the Maia was still very great though he'd turned from the goodness of his created nature. He brought Maedhros deep into the dungeons of Angband and laid him onto a bed in one of the chambers. Maimaite tended to Maedhros's wounds with gentle hands, bringing relief to the burnt flesh and tired muscles. "Go ahead and ask," Maimaite said after Maedhros had been silent for a long time.

"Why are you doing this?" Maedhros asked.

"Lord Morgoth commanded that you were to live and toil for him in thralldom," Maimaite said. "You cannot do that if you are unwell." Maedhros felt the strength return to his limbs as Maimaite continued his ministrations. The Maia gave him new clothes, black but clean.

"I was not referring to the healing of my hurts," Maedhros said. "Why do you serve Morgoth, Maimaite? You were once loyal to Aule, and you seem to be of a good heart still."

Maimaite smiled a bit sadly. "Ah, Maitimo, you cannot imagine what power Morgoth wields. He is a Vala, and long ago, he cowed my heart into submission. I thought myself free of him, but once he summoned me to his service again, I found that I was not. Perhaps you have not heard of those days when Melkor first rebelled and turned many of the Maiar of fiery nature to his bidding. Only Osse has escaped him, and that because of his wife, Lady Uinen, but even now, the violent nature has not wholly departed from his heart."

"You can be free of him," Maedhros said. Now healed, he gripped Maimaite's arm. "We will fight him, and you can join us in our rebellion."

"Rebellion?" Maimaite laughed. "Nay, Noldo, do not forget that your rebellion is against the authority of the Valar, not against Morgoth. Against Morgoth, it is war." Though he specialized in matters of the forge, long association with Feanor had made Maimaite very keen on the forging of words into sentences.

"Then join in our war against Morgoth," Maedhros said. "You need not serve him. You are mighty in power and would be most welcomed aid in our war."

Maimaite only smiled. "No, Maitimo. In time, you will understand that I came to serve Morgoth because, like the Noldor, I rebelled against the Valar." He held up his hand to forestall Maedhros's words. "We will speak of this later if you wish, but not now. My Master commanded that you were to toil in Angband. I know that you will not forge weapons that will be used against your kin, so instead you will suffer torment in the dark mines of Ered Engrin, the Iron Mountains."

"Are you not afraid that I will seek to escape?"

"Do you want me to put you in chains?" Maimaite asked. Maedhros shook his head. "Well then, I will not. But understand this: you are honor-bound to remain in Ered Engrin. You are a prisoner of Angband, and you will remain as such until your kin rescue you, and you and I both have no doubts that they will in time. I trust that you will not try something as dishonorable as escaping before you are either traded in a parley or rescued by the armies of the Eldar."

"Is that how it is," Maedhros said.

"It is." Maimaite smiled. "I know. It is new to me as well. I did not take place in the War of the Powers and so I know little of the laws of warfare." Maimaite led Maedhros down the tunnels of the Iron Mountains until they reached a dead end. "Here." He handed Maedhros a pick and gestured at a bucket. "I have brought you here so that you may work in peace apart from the Orcs and Trolls. You are to mine for iron ore. I will return when you tire and bring you to your dungeon cell in Angband. You see? It is not so different from working in the Pelori Mountains in search of gems and precious stones."

"Are you trying to convince me to serve the Dark Lord?" Maedhros asked suspiciously.

"Indeed I am." Maimaite smiled. "And you are, in turn, free to try to convince me to not serve Lord Morgoth when we converse on these matters. But I'm afraid that now is not the time for such conversation. I have other business to attend to." He half-bowed to Maedhros. "Work hard though. I must bring the bucket of iron ore to Morgoth when you are finished as proof of your suffering."

Though it seemed inappropriate to exchange such courtesy with the enemy, Maedhros also inclined himself slightly to Maimaite. The Maia left, and Maedhros took up the pick and sought for the iron ore as he'd been bidden to do. He didn't expect his brothers to come to his rescue soon, and so he knew he'd have to bide his time, work in thralldom until that day came. His spirit was still bright from the Light of Aman, and so he worked tirelessly for hours. Maimaite had left him food and water, and Maedhros paused in his labor only for brief moments of repast. The Iron Mountain was hard and unyielding, and each strike of the pick resonated through the muscles of his arms in a way that was unlike his mining experiences in the Pelori Mountains. Somehow, for some reason, the torment felt good. Once he adjusted to the ringing of the pick as it struck the mountain, Maedhros was able to think about other things as he toiled. He had not been able to stop and reflect instead of simply react to a given situation for a long time now.

Maedhros was stirred from his thoughts from Maimaite, saying, "I thought I could trust you to be honorable, yet now I find you seeking escape from your imprisonment. Don't you know that I will be the one punished if you flee?"

"I have done no such thing." Maedhros leaned his pick against the tunnel's wall and wiped his brow. "As you can see, I have been laboring in torment as you'd demanded."

Maimaite paused in his fury and gestured around. "All this? You've done all this to torment yourself?"

Maedhros nodded. "When the bucket filled, I began to simply leave the iron ore on the right side, the rubble on the left." He stopped and looked back at his handiwork, but the lamp did not cast much light.

"You idiot," Maimaite said with a note of affection. He smiled. "You work too hard. I've dealt too long with Orcs and Trolls, who are lazy and pretend to work or will not work very hard unless pressed. Instead, I have here one good miner who is worth a thousand of them." Maimaite gestured. "Come. Let's have you bathe and refresh yourself after such hard labor." After leading Maedhros down the tunnel for some time, Maimaite stopped. "Here is where you first began your work. You have tunneled farther than even I expected. At first, I'd thought that you were digging for yourself a way of escape. But there is enough iron ore here to present to Morgoth for at least a month. Perhaps you need not toil again for some time."

"It is my lot as a prisoner, is it not?" Maedhros said.

"Yay, but I am your warden, and I shall be the one to decide the extent of your suffering." Maimaite shook his head. "Certainly if I left it to you, you would torment yourself more severely than that designed by the Dark Lord. Indeed, if I'm not careful, you may tunnel through the foundations of Angband and bring its ruin."

"You flatter me, Lord Maia," Maedhros said. It was odd that they could have a conversation so similar to one that would've occurred in the Blessed Realm here in the lands of the Dark Lord.

A hot bath of clean water was prepared for Maedhros. He stripped and sank into it gratefully. The heat eased the soreness in his muscles. It felt like a good day, a productive day. Maimaite, sitting at the edge of the bath, offered him some wine and refreshments.

"Will I be in debt to the Dark Lord if you show me such kindness?" Maedhros asked.

"Of course not." Maedhros accepted the drink and was pleasantly surprised when he sipped it. "It's from my personal collection," Maimaite said with a smile. "Yavanna gave me several cases when I was still new to this world."

"It's strong."

"Of course. It's nectar."

"Nectar?" Maedhros handed the glass back to Maimaite. "I cannot drink this."

"Why? Because the Valar say so? It is nothing more than strong wine." Maimaite pushed the glass back to Maedhros.

"Surely you did not rebel against the Valar because of wine!" Maedhros said. He sipped from the nectar once more. It was sweet and thick yet smooth and more powerful than any wine. Maedhros felt his face flush. He had not reacted such to alcohol since he was young.

"Nay. In the beginning, I feared Melkor's growing need to dominate the will of others. I sought refuge in Valmar, as did many of the Ainur. There, I became the pupil of Aule." Maimaite shook his head at the memories. "Ah, but I did not know how deeply the Dark One had touched me. When the Valar at last decided to overthrow Melkor in spite of the hurts that such a battle would do to the world, I felt compelled to aid Melkor, but I hid behind the standard of Aule."

"Then you did not rebel against the Valar, for thoughts are not deeds."

"You do not understand. I did betray them. Melkor's hold was strong over me. He read my thoughts, and through me, he knew of the Valar's plans of attack. It was not until my treachery was discovered that the Valar were at last able to make headway in the war," Maimaite recalled.

"But after the Battle of the Powers and when Morgoth was chained, you reformed and served the House of Aule," Maedhros said. "Surely the Valar forgave you for your earlier crimes."

"Yes, and for a long time, I thought all was well. But the dark seed that Melkor had planted in me festered, and unknown to even myself, I came to resent the Rules of Valinor." Maimaite looked away, as if ashamed of himself. "When Melkor at last revealed himself to be a Dark Lord, I was drawn to him. I, too, wanted to subjugate others to my will. I could not do so in Valinor, but I could as second in power to Melkor. And so I am here in Angband, myself a Dark Lord, though one lesser than Lord Morgoth."

Maedhros shook his head. "Truly, I confess that I do not understand. I am myself a prince, and I rule the lives of others as well. Am I then also evil? And does Manwe not rule as High King of Arda? Is he evil too? Nay. What, then, is the difference?"

"I said that I wished to subjugate others to my will, not that I wished to rule them," Maimaite said. The word play again. Maedhros shook his head again. "Still you do not understand? Perhaps it is because you are still good at heart despite the rebellion and the kinslaying. Work the mines yet longer and you will come to understand."

"Very well." Maedhros put his wineglass onto the floor beside the bath. He stretched. His muscles, loosened from the warm bath, eased into the stretch and purred to him. "In any case, it is my fate as a prisoner. I believe I will be ready for more hard labor, and it may be as you say, that such work will make your point clear to me."

"Yes." Maimaite smiled. "Would you like me to give you a massage? Your muscles look relaxed, but they might enjoy the treat."

Maedhros flashed Maimaite a grateful smile. The Maia disrobed. Maedhros turned to face the wall of the bath. He folded his arms on the bath's edge and rested his cheek to his arms. Maimaite joined him in the still warm water and moved over his flesh with strong, sure hands. His back felt reborn as Maimaite rubbed his muscles. Maedhros became so relaxed from the food, wine, and fine massage that he fell asleep in the bath.

When he awoke, he was robed and sleeping in a bed in the dungeon of Angband. He'd scarcely remembered that he was still a prisoner, and so he was grateful for his harsh surroundings. Maimaite came to him some time after he'd awakened. They had breakfast together. Then Maedhros was put to work in the mines again. This routine happened several times, and each time, Maedhros worked hard in search of the iron ore. He thought as he worked, of his conversation with Maimaite, of the death of Finwe and Feanor, of the theft of the Silmarils and the rape of the white ships of the Teleri, and of the kinslaying. When he'd worked in the mines seven times, at last, Maedhros understood the evil that Maimaite had sought to explain to him.

That morning, Maimaite came to him as always, and over breakfast, the Maia said, "You've done much with the mines in the south, and I do not want you to tunnel to Beleriand itself. I think I will assign you to the eastern mountains. You may enjoy mining there. I've chanced upon some geodes in the eastern mines from time to time."

"I will not work there or anywhere else in the mines of the Iron Mountains," Maedhros said.

Maimaite looked to him in surprise. "Will not?"

Maedhros nodded. "It has taken me long, but yesterday as I drifted off to sleep, I finally understood what you meant of the black heart of Morgoth. Indeed, I have labored, and the labor has been like that in Valinor, which I did for my own joy and the enrichment of Arda. But I understand now what it means to be a thrall. I am not tired, but if I should tire and choose to turn aside from my task, to instead ride upon a horse or read some old scrolls, I would not be allowed to. I would be forced, against my will, to continue to do that work that I do now freely."

"Ah." Maimaite looked pleased. "Yes, I see that you do understand the situation. I'd feared that you would be too innocent to ever perceive the darkness of which I spoke. You could tire and ask for rest from your task, but if I so desired, I would force you to work against your will. I might even whip you when you refused still, and then you would not find the work so joyous, so I would bind you in chains to prevent you from fleeing."

"Is that what you will do now?" Maedhros asked. "For as I have said, I will not work again in these mines. I have learned the lessons of the mines. I will no longer hunt for the ore that will allow you to make weapons to use against my brethren. Will you bind me with chains and whip me until I submit?"

"Nay. I know you well, Son of Feanor. You would not break. You would let me whip and beat you to the death before you submit," Maimaite said.

"Then what will you do now?"

"What indeed." Maimaite looked at the Prince of the Noldor thoughtfully.

---

Morgoth struck Maedhros and tore his clothes from him. The Dark Lord took Maedhros, naked and quailing, to Thangorodrim. There, Morgoth grew to a great height until he was as large as the mountain itself. He chained Maedhros's right wrist to the face of a precipice with a band of steel unbreakable.

"Abide here now, Nelyafinwe Maitimo, Last of the Kings of the Noldor, until your very body is worn by the harsh winds of Manwe," said Morgoth. "You will watch from here as the Noldor pass through the Gates of Angband as my slaves. You will beg for death before the end."

"That may be so, but your servant Sauron has taught me strength," Maedhros said. A moment of foresight came to Maedhros, and as he spoke, he wondered if these words were truly his own. "It may be that you will break me upon the hard rock of Thangorodrim, but if I am ever set free, then you will see me reborn from the ashes of death, and I will be your greatest enemy until the very end, until the eve of your defeat. Eru set in Feanaro a fire greater than you know, and my father passed that flame onto me. If ever I should fall, then, Dark Lord Morgoth, beware! For though the line of Kings will at last be broken, your reign's end will be close at hand."

"Brave words, Son of Feanor," Morgoth said with a sneer. "Let us see how long your words can keep your spirit kindled."

Morgoth left as a dark cloud. Maedhros hung from Thangorodrim as the mountain winds tore at him mercilessly. He doubted the words of his own prophecy, for none had ever returned from the dead, and he did not believe that he, an Elda and one less great than Feanor, could be the chief enemy of the Dark Lord. But Maedhros took comfort in knowing that Sauron the Abhorred was undoubtedly being tormented as well. And Maedhros remembered how he had thought his situation hopeless when he was Sauron's prisoner. There was no point in questioning his fate. If he was to die and rise again, first of the Eldar to do so, then so be it.

Here, on the Precipice I am set, and I will show my Progeny. If I am cast down from this place and yet remain safe, then I will know that, though I am Dispossessed by the Valar, I am the Chosen Son of Eru, the Mighty All-Father.



---

Note: This is inspired very loosely by the three temptations of Jesus. "Be he friend or foe..." (X.112).