Work Text:
Melkor kept a clock showing Middle-earth time on his desk. Useless sentiment, his Precious would have said. That world, his world, was lost to him forever. But he couldn't quite bring himself to let go of it.
The clock showed eight thousand years, two months, three days, six hours and five minutes since the Door of Night slammed shut behind his naked spirit. He'd accomplished quite a lot in that time, although, to be fair, he had moved through so many universes and timestreams that calculating his subjective temporal experience would be absurdly difficult.
He did it anyway. Translated back into Middle-earth time, it was just over six hundred thousand years.
That morning he could feel them all. The third sun was just starting to rise over the iron towers of his capital city and he had been up all night doing paperwork. Again. He was negotiating the purchase of a new planet inside some pissant empire that loved paperwork even more than his Precious once had.
My Lord, how do you think we will accomplish anything if we do not keep proper records?
If keeping records counted as an accomplishment, this empire excelled at it. When he took it over, Melkor thought, he would give its people better things to do.
"Still dreaming of conquest and oppression, I see. Not even the Void could teach you humility."
Melkor's head snapped up. The door was locked and his employees knew not to barge into his office. Who would dare--
The being standing before him looked like an ordinary member of his staff. It was even wearing a badge identifying it as a member of the exo-legal team. But he would never not know that aura of power.
"The Void taught me many things," Melkor said cautiously. "Why are you here, Eru?"
"Must you be so suspicious? Perhaps I simply want to see how my darling firstborn son is faring out here in the wide, wild multiverse."
"I'm not your darling," Melkor said. "I never was."
"Only through your own choice, my dear. But I'm not here to rehash that old argument. I come bearing gifts!" Eru tried to form a smile and failed. "Or rather, a gift and an opportunity. I know you still long for Eä."
"If you want me to come back and start your final battle, the answer is 'no'," Melkor said. "I'm much too busy."
"Ah, well. That's too bad. Having trouble managing your new empire of money?"
Melkor shrugged. "It's hardly new. I've owned this planet for longer than Angband stood." He had chosen it because its three yellow-orange suns reminded him of the eyes his Precious liked to wear.
A smile might be beyond its skill, but Eru could perform a smirk quite well. "Would that be in absolute equivalent subjective time, or limited local time, or subjective equivalent local time?"
"Subjective equivalent local," Melkor said. "Since we're in a location. Which brings me back to my question: why are you in this location?"
"My son, the transtemporal mathematician," Eru said, ignoring Melkor's question. "That is the name you gave your field, isn't it?"
"One of them," Melkor said. His method of calculating cross-universe time equivalences, developed during his ancient journeys through the Void, had made him far richer and more powerful outside of Eä than he had ever been within it, but no amount of money could bring back his dragons, or his Valaraukar, or most important of all, his Precious.
"The only thing you ever created," Eru said. "The mistakes you abandoned in Eä hardly count as creations, do they?"
Melkor dug his claws into the arm of his chair and didn't reply.
"They're mostly dead now," Eru continued. "One of my Secondborn killed your last dragon quite recently. Little thing it was. Runt of the clutch, I suppose. My boy took it down with one arrow. And the abominations you made from my Firstborn will soon be utterly eradicated; my Secondborn can be ever so efficient when they get caught up in a project. It's truly admirable."
Melkor's claws broke through the padded armrests of his chair and sank into the metal frame underneath.
"Their fëar still belong to my dear Námo, despite your efforts to free them. I've even allowed him to release a few from his Halls--wearing the forms they should have worn all along, of course."
"They would not thank you for that," Melkor whispered.
"Fortunately I care no more for their feelings than you ever did, and I instructed Námo to erase their memories of their lives as your creatures. All the beings who served you in Eä will soon have forgotten you forever...except, perhaps, for one." Eru reached into its head, drew something out, and dropped it onto Melkor's desk.
A three-dimensional shadow writhed like a ball of worms between the stacks of paper.
"No," Melkor whispered.
"I did warn you that you would not be the only one to suffer for your defiance," Eru said. "You could have spared him so much pain if you had only been content to be what I made you to be."
"No," Melkor repeated. He carefully folded his hands around the shadow and cradled it to his chest. "I told him--I commanded him--to return to you!"
"And yet he somehow found the strength to disobey."
"You mean you freed him from my command." Melkor felt the shadow's agonized writhing against his fingers and held it closer. Precious, he sent to it. Precious, do you know me?
The writhing slowed. Master?
"He thought you had become too weak to truly command him," Eru said. "But, unlike you, I never forced him to do anything; I only made a choice possible. He chose to disobey you out of love for you. Quite a contradictory creature, but I must admit that his loyalty to you is worthy of the name I gave him. Did you notice when he ripped himself apart? Or when he tried to break through the walls of Eä by sacrificing innocents in a temple dedicated to you? Perhaps you were too far away, too busy building your new empire to notice your long-lost lackey's pathetic attempts to return to you."
Melkor gently stroked the shadow with his thumbs. "You severed our bond; I couldn't have--
"You moved on," Eru interrupted. "But he, sadly, could not. Even in this state, he begged Námo to cast him into the Void so he could be with you. But if I had allowed it, you would never have known, would you? He would have drifted in the Void until its beasts devoured him, knowing only that you had abandoned him."
Master? I'm so cold…
Melkor increased the heat in his hands until he felt the shadow relax. "How long?" he asked Eru. "How long did you leave him there?"
Eru made a noise that might have been intended as a laugh. "In absolute equivalent subjective time or subjective equivalent local time?"
Melkor snarled. Lightning flashed around the windows, thunder crashed directly over the building, and a smell of ozone and petrichor leaked into the room.
"Do control yourself," Eru said. "I didn't let them actually cast him into the Void, although they wanted to. Námo created a facsimile just for him. Right next door to your old friend Fëanaró."
"How long?" Melkor repeated.
"From his perspective? A very, very long time. Quite remarkable that he still remembers you. Fëanaró's long since forgotten his sons. He doesn't even remember his own name, poor thing, even though his mother's been calling it through the door for Ages." Eru's attempt at a smile spread across its face like an oil slick.
Blue light crackled across the walls and the entire building shook with a massive thunderclap as Melkor struggled to rein in his rage.
"Do control yourself," Eru repeated. "I've brought your most loyal follower back to you; you should be grateful."
"I am very grateful," Melkor bit out.
Eru made its not-a-laugh noise again. "You've never been grateful for anything in your life, dear boy. But I am a generous parent. Return to me, fight in my final battle, and I will restore your love to what he was."
It lies, the shadow whispered to Melkor. It would remake me, not restore me.
I know , he told it. To Eru, he said, "A tempting offer, but I'm afraid I must refuse. My empire of money, as you put it, needs constant care, and I no longer have a reliable lieutenant to command it in my absence."
"I thought that might be your answer," Eru said. "Ah, well. Perhaps I will take your role in the final battle myself."
"Even though your plan is for me to die?"
"Who's to say what my plan is? Certainly not any of my children. They'll be ever so surprised if you win."
"You have fun with that," Melkor said, and felt a tiny twitch of pity for his deluded siblings.
"Oh, I will. Enjoy your gift. Who knows, you might even be able to restore him yourself someday." Eru winked and its form started to fade. "Probably not, though. I made you strong, my son, but not...quite...strong...enough…"
Melkor swept the echoes of Eru's horrid laugh-noise from the room and slumped in his chair. His three corporeal hearts pounded out of sync in his chest and he couldn't seem to suck in enough air.
It is gone, Master.
Melkor carefully opened his hands. A single chatoyant yellow eye looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Precious," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
I chose you, the shadow said. I will always choose you. It slid out of Melkor's hands and up his arm to settle around his neck like a scarf. Whatever are you doing? Is this a land purchase? Why are these documents in such disarray?
Melkor's harsh, cackling laughter rattled the windows. He had his Precious back and he felt like he was a million years old again.