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Melkor heard the steps of an approaching figure in the dark gloom of the cell Mandos had made to hold him. With the Angainor restraining him and stopping him from exercising his will on the world around him, he had to rely on the limited senses his physical form possessed.
I suppose it’s likely that dolt, Tulkas again. He had not seen his jailer, Mandos, since he had been left where he was, but Tulkas returned every day to laugh, jeer, and taunt him. As if the sight of Melkor not even able to stand of his own accord anymore was the funniest thing he had ever seen. Eonwe had hewn away Melkor’s feet and left a pair of bloody stumps in their place. But for all Tulkas’ jabs, he refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing them affect him.
Or days as I believe them. He could not see the rise and fall of the sun and the moon where he was and merely relied on his own judgement of the passage of time. But as he listened closer, he knew it was not Tulkas. The footsteps were softer. Lighter. Far lighter than Tulkas could manage. The brute stomps like a mumakil wherever he goes.
It was the one visitor he had been expecting and had not come to see him yet. His brother’s cloud-white hair was long and straight and flowed down from his head to his waist like rain falling from the sky. He was clad in a blue robe as was normal for him and wore a simple silver circlet atop his head which was embellished with sapphires. He stood tall and proud in a manner which befitted his title as king. His face was absent of emotion, but his eyes betrayed him. They were filled with sadness. Hah! Has he come to plead and ask me to ‘repent’? Fool. He can save his pity.
“Has my brother come to laugh like that gormless fool?” Melkor spat the words as he spoke like they were poison.
Manwe did not react. He held all the power here and had nothing to fear. Instead, he replied with a question of his own. “I don’t understand you, brother. You could have been so much more if you had merely let go of your pride and followed our Father’s command. You spat on every chance you have been given. You would rather have the whole world crumble into ruin if it meant you could seat yourself on the throne of what came after.
Melkor let out a hysterical chuckle, his voice sounding like two stones grinding together. “Of course, you don’t understand, Manwe. Always Father’s favorite pet. You never understood.” If Melkor’s words could still influence reality as they had during the music, death itself would have crumbled with the utter hatred that filled his voice. And what would have been left would have been cruel beyond imagination. Mountains would tremble and winds would sound with terror at his voice. But as powerless as he was now, if Melkor could make Manwe feel even the slightest fraction of his pain, it would be enough.
With mocking disbelief, Melkor continued. “You never meant to always take what was meant to be mine. You never meant to take Father’s favor from me for yourself. You stole my crown, my birthright, the one I loved! All you’ve ever done is steal what is mine!” As the words flowed from him his voice elevated to a shout.
Manwe felt pity for his brother. “They were never yours to begin with. The world was made by all the Ainur and our Father. The crown was never yours either. Neither was Varda, you cannot possess another life. You can only accept the love which is given to you.” Melkor’s thoughts immediately went to Mairon. When the host of the Valar had torn down the gates of Angband, Mairon had pleaded with his king to flee to the East with him. That there was still time to escape. That they could rebuild as long as they were together. But Melkor saw that Mairon’s love for him was making him ignore the reality of the situation.
I had to force Mairon away with a threat to get him to leave my side. But I will not feel guilt for it as long as it ensures he is safe from the retribution of those who would bring him suffering.
Manwe continued. “You lost those things through your own actions. You blame me because you cannot face the fact that your fall was entirely of your own making. Your own choices.”
Melkor leaned himself as far forward towards Manwe as he was able without falling over. With his feet gone and his arms trapped and unable to be used to balance himself, it was a precarious position indeed. But the risk was worth it as it gave more weight to what he said next. “You think we are free, brother? You think that we can make choices of our own will? If you truly believe Illuvatar is as all-powerful and all-knowing as you love to say. Than all that has transpired has been with his allowance. So either Father made me to be as I am now, or he is not so all-powerful and all-knowing as you believe. Do you honestly think that if any of you were to denounce him as I had that he would spare you from his judgement? No. Better to reign as my own master than to serve one who made me only to suffer.
Manwe knelt to the floor to match Melkor’s eye level, his voice sounded pleading. “You know what awaits you brother. The Void. All I ask is that you give up those who are unaccounted for. Five of your seven spirits of fire remain unaccounted for, as do many others. Tell me where they have fled. Give up this foolishness and let there at last be peace.
A rare smile pulled at the corners of Melkor’s mouth. It was a horrifying thing to see. So Mairon and the remaining Valaraukar escaped. Good. Very good. Oh, my Precious. Even when I release you from my service, you remain devoted to me. Truly, your shameless love knows no bounds. The knowledge that Mairon had escaped judgement and fled into the East as he had asked him to brought him a small amount of relief.
He spat at his brother in response. “To ruin and fire go your peace. Even when I am gone, you will never know peace Manwe. I have ensured it.”
Manwe grimaced and stood, his head shaking back and forth in disbelief. His tone filled with sorrow. “You have no idea how much I pity you. Even now you are my brother and I love you. I pray your fate is a painless one.”
Melkor looked up and matched his brother’s eyes.
“There is no word in any tongue that could describe the hate I have for you. Your words are a waste of breath. Be gone from my sight.”
Not another word was exchanged between them as Manwe turned and left.
-
Varda had come to the Halls of Mandos and decided it was not a place in which she would ever to wish to linger in. The souls of the disembodied elves which occupied the upper levels of Mandos’ realm seemed to drain all the light from the place. But as she descended lower and lower into it, she felt cold. Not a cold which transpired from a drop in temperature, but rather it felt like a chill in her very spirit. The feeling was entirely unnerving and she had only felt in once before.
When Melkor and I... Melkor? Morgoth? No. Melkor. When Melkor and I parted. She knew the feeling was singularly being caused by the current singular denizen of the lowest of Mandos’ halls. But she wasn’t there for him. She was there for her husband. When she had learned that Manwe had gone to see Melkor alone, the day before his sentence was to be carried out without telling her, she had rushed to be at his side.
She didn’t blame him for it. For all the evil he had caused, she knew Manwe still loved his wayward brother and he had to see him one last time without being under the constant gaze of those who relied on him to be their king. The faith the other Ainur had placed in him would have been shaken if they saw him express pity for their most reviled enemy. But the closer she came to his cell, the more she felt the same need which had taken her husband. To see Melkor one last time, free from the judgement of others.
Manwe was her husband. He was hers and she was his, and together they stood as king and queen of Arda. Their union was perfect and had been built upon a strong foundation of mutual love for each other, a love which was encouraged by their creator. There was a time when she had feared what Manwe would be like. Wondering how he could possibly fill the absence left in her heart left by another. But he had been kind and understanding. He did not push her or put pressure on her to perform. Instead, he only sought her own well-being. His love for her had been pure and unconditional and in time any feelings she had held for another had shriveled up.
She felt Manwe’s approach and knew he felt her as well.
“Varda?”
“Manwe, I heard that you had gone to see Melkor alone.”
Her tone was understanding, not accusing. She saw the distress in his face. He came to try and plead with his brother one last time and it went entirely as he expected. The pair of them embraced and kissed. Manwe spoke when their lips parted, “I knew he would not change. That he could not change. But I had to try.”
“I know. I must see him too.” Manwe understood. “Would you like me to wait for you here, so that we may return to Taniquetil together?” He pressed the back of her hand to his lips in a gentle kiss. “Yes.” She replied. “I will not be long.”
-
Varda gasped when she saw the ruin of Melkor’s form. She remembered the days when he had pursued her love. Then he had been tall, his face perfectly sculpted, his dark hair had rolled down in perfect waves. His body had been perfectly muscled and his spirit had been the brightest of all the Ainur. He had stood tall and proud, the mightiest of all of Eru’s creations.
Now, the creature that sat hobbled and broken before her was almost unrecognizable. His skin was so pallid and crossed with damage it looked as if it was made of cracked milk glass. The skin darkened as it went down towards his hands. They were charred, blackened, and wizened. She recognized the damage as being caused by a curse which she had leveled herself. The power I placed on the Silmarils. I suppose it at least speaks to his will to not have relinquished them even as they burned him. His body was clad in a ruined and torn black robe which was fraying at the edges, the same he had been wearing when dragged out of his ruined fortress. She looked down and saw the pair of bloody stumps where his feet had been. Eonwe was rather proud of that. His long hair now looked like the nest of a wild bird. Messy, dirty, and filled with knots and tangles. Varda would not have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, but looking closely she saw rare strands of silver arrayed through it. The idea that any of the immortal Ainur could display the ravages of time was unthinkable to her. His body was bound by the great chain which Aule had forged to hold him. A task he had taken whole heartedly when. That was back when he still believed that Melkor had stolen Mairon away from him by force. He refused to believe that Mairon had gone willingly. Around Melkor’s neck was a heavy collar of black iron which had once been his crown and been worn atop his head. Now it was a symbol of his defeat. That he was at the mercy of others.
But for Varda, his face was the worst thing to see of all. It was wrinkled with age, crow’s feet pulling at the edges of his eyes. There was a spread of scars on his face. Three long vertical ones travelled down the left side from his forehead all the way down to his jaw. One went down over his left eye and the attack which caused it would have destroyed it had it been just a few millimeters deeper. Another went down the bridge of his nose and had torn all the way through his left nostril and when it had healed, it left his nose looking asymmetrical. Another scar on his right cheek went horizontal all the way to his mouth and cut down through his lips before heading down to his jaw as well.
The shape and arrangement of the scars was not lost on her. The spread of Thorondor’s talon. The great eagle had mauled him when it stole away Fingolfin’s corpse. When Melkor first saw her as she approached him, his mouth had gone agape for a moment in surprise and Varda caught a glimpse of his teeth. It was a mouthful of yellowed fangs which would have looked unnatural on even the fiercest of carnivore predators. The worst thing was his eyes. They were like black pits from which not even light could escape.
Where once he and Manwe had been similar in appearance, they still complemented each other. Where Manwe wore silver and blue, he had worn gold and red. Where Manwe’s hair was white like the clouds, his was black like the night sky. Parallels like noon and midnight. They had stood together, brothers both with regal bearing. But now you would not be able to tell that they were siblings even if they were side by side.
But as she looked him up and down, sadness filled Varda. Beneath all the ruin and corruption, there were still traces of what he had been. That if the scars and corruption could be stripped away, what would be left would be beautiful again as it had been long ago.
Melkor’s eyes went wide when he saw her. He had not expected her to come see him. For a moment he remained silent with surprise. He would never admit it, perhaps not even to himself, but a part of him still loved her. Still filled him with desire for her to look at him as he once did at her. When she left him, he found it easier to believe that she had never loved him at all. That she had lied to him and paraded him about as a fool for the amusement of others as he tried to fulfill her every desire. The lie was easier to believe than it was to face the truth.
Easier to believe that she had never loved him at all rather than that she had left him despite of it.
As he regained his composure, his face curled in disgust. “Why are you here? Come to have one last jest at my expense? You always were good at making me make a fool of myself.”
Where once his words his words would have shattered her heart so long ago, now they only affirmed what she already believed. She could not change him, but a doubt gnawed at the back of her mind that it was her fault. That he was like this because of what she had done. A memory flashed in her mind.
He knelt before her, her hand in his. “There will be no end of time as long as I spend it with you. Will you marry me Varda? Will you be mine?”
His eyes were so full of hope. Varda had feared that this moment would come to pass. She knew what she had to say, but she feared that it would break her to do so. He would destroy himself if she merely asked for it, his love for her was that absolute. Varda knew she loved him in turn, but what he was going to do was wrong and where he was going, she could not follow.
Her eyes sparkled with welling tears. “…No.”
She saw the look in his eyes as his heart tore in two, and hers promptly followed suit when she knew the pain which she had caused him.
Melkor choked back a pained sound. “Why? Why?” he pleaded. “Whatever it is I swear I will never do it again.” He was desperate. So very desperate.
Varda tried to find her resolve, but inside she was screaming. “Because I know you Melkor. I know what you are going to do. You are going to disobey our creator’s will and it is wrong.” Varda wondered if she really believed what she was saying. That perhaps if she had not done so, what she feared would never come to pass because of his love for her. But it was too late now.
Melkor stood and turned away from her, his sorrow boiling into rage. “You spit on my love because of something I haven’t even done yet?” He turned back to her and she saw trails running from his eyes down his cheeks. ‘What have I done?’ Varda thought. She wished she could hold him until all his pain melted away. She had known about his loneliness. How the one who had come before her had broken him as well.
‘And now I’m doing the same.’ She thought.
Then he did something she had not expected. He burst into a mad laughter, but his eyes were filled with nothing but pain.
“Ha ha ha ha ha! Oh, I see now. I’ve been played for a fool. Oh, I was a fool. Wasn’t I? I was a fool to believe you loved me. That you would ever love me.”
Varda was weeping now as he was. She tried to take his hand in hers but he wrenched it away from her.
“No, I love you. Do not believe I never loved you. It is not true.”
But it was too late and the feeling of hate had already been carved into his mind. Whether it was for her or himself he did not know.
“Do not tell me that!” He roared at her. “You cannot say you love me and reject my love in the same breath! I see now that all you’ve done is parade me about like a puppet for your own amusement.”
She had no words to mend his broken heart.
His voice grew quiet. “I would have done anything for you, if you had only asked.”
And with that he was gone. They would not see each other again until the making of the world. By then Illuvatar had begun to encourage union between her and Manwe, and the sight of it only further cemented in his mind what he had already believed about her. And when Melkor sang his discord, what she had believed about him was cemented in hers. And like that, their love withered into dust.
As she came back to the present, she replied. Her voice was stern and filled with resolve.
“No. I came to say goodbye. This is the end, Melkor. After tomorrow we will never see each other again.”
His eyes glinted with hatred and he tried to make his next words sound as sincere as possible. “Good riddance then. The Void will be a mercy if I never again have to see the face of my brother’s whore.”
She shook her head and left to join Manwe who was waiting for her.
-
The assembled Ainur and elves of Aman cheered as they watched Tulkas drag the hobbled Morgoth from the Halls of Mandos in a procession to the Doors of Night. When they arrived, Tulkas pulled him up by his hair for all to see. Manwe announced his sentence to the listeners for all to hear. That he was to be cast through the doors to the Void outside the world, so that there he might remain for eternity. When Manwe was finished he asked his brother if he had any final words to say before his sentence was to carried out.
Melkor remembered when Utumno had been destroyed and how had humbled himself then.
Never again. He thought.
“If you expect to hear me beg for mercy, you will be disappointed.”
With that the doors were opened and Tulkas pushed him through.