Prisoners of the Void(Ch. 2): Kingdom of Spiders

“You idiot”, Mairon chided as he examined Melkor’s wounds with a worried expression, “What were you thinking?!”
“I just wanted the silmarils, that’s all!” Melkor protested, wincing, “Everything was going fine until Ungoliant turned on me.”
Mairon snorted.
“I told you not to trust that spider. Now look at you! Your hands look like lumps of charcoal and you can’t even change your form! Are those gems really worth it?”
“Of course! Look at them!”
 Mairon glanced down at the shining jewels that lit up the room, then back at his master’s burnt hands, looking unconvinced. Melkor tried a different approach, seeing that the beauty of his prizes wasn’t going to be enough to convince his Lieutenant that his injuries were worth it. Secretly, he wasn’t sure they were either, but he wasn’t about to admit he might have made a mistake.
“Look, the elves, the Feanorians, these jewels mean everything to them. Taking them, and killing their king, it’ll put fear into their hearts. It’s a show of force, like if someone took Grond from me. It’s not just because they’re shiny, it’s a declaration of war. A show of power. You see?”
“Hmmmmmm…” Mairon still looked uncertain, but he didn’t argue. Instead he picked up Melkor’s hands in his own and looked up, “I’m going to try to heal your hands, alright? It might hurt.”
 Melkor nodded and braced himself. Mairon murmured something under his breath and began to glow as warmth spread throughout his body. He summoned a golden healing magic in his hands and slowly passed it over Melkor’s burns, his eyes closed in concentration. It burned slightly and Melkor tried to ignore the pain and focus instead on the way his friend’s hair was glowing like molten lava, or the way fire seemed to ripple under his pale skin, and how his freckles radiated light like little sparks of flame. Mairon opened his eyes, which now blazed with golden-orange light, and looked up at him.
“Is it working?” he asked.
 Melkor glanced down at his hands, which looked just as ruined as before. He flexed his fingers painfully and shook his head. Mairon’s face fell, and Melkor wondered if maybe he should have lied, or at least softened the truth so that his lieutenant didn’t feel as though his attempt to help was completely useless.

“Well, if that didn’t help, then there’s not much more I can do,” Mairon sighed, turning away and gathering some bandages from the shelf beside them. “All I can do now is bind your wounds and hope that keeps them from getting worse.”

 Melkor watched as Mairon dipped the bandages in a basin of a strange, herbal smelling liquid, presumably a healing mixture he had learned from his mother Yavanna. He wished he could tell his friend that it wasn’t his fault for not being able to heal the terrible burns that stretched all the way up to his elbows, blistered and blackened and painful, but he had a feeling that would just make Mairon defensive and angry, so he kept silent. A moment later Mairon turned back to him, holding the sweet-smelling bandages. He motioned for Melkor to hold out his hands, which the dark Vala did, then began to carefully wrap the strips of cloth around the ruined hands.

“OW!” Melkor jerked back his hands, “That hurt! Be more gentle!”

“I AM being gentle,” Mairon retorted, “It’s not my fault you decided to get into a fight with a giant spider over some snitched jewels! Now give me your hands back.”

“You didn’t tell me it was going to sting,” Melkor whined, holding his hands against his chest protectively.

Mairon glared threateningly at him.

“Hands. Back. Now.”

“Torturer,” Melkor sniffed, but he complied, although he winced and complained the whole time until Mairon was done.

“Well, now, what have we learned from this experience?” Mairon asked, cleaning up the supplies while Melkor cradled his hands against his abdomen.

“That you’re incredibly cruel and heartless when it comes to my suffering?”  

 “Wrong. What you should have learned is that wrestling a monstrous spider over a few shiny gems is incredibly foolish and you should never do it again.”

Melkor snorted, admiring the beautiful jewels which glowed brightly on the table next to them.

  “Well, given the damage the balrogs did to her, I doubt I’ll ever run into her again,” he replied, “She’s probably crawled into some hole to die, the disgusting creature.”

 Mairon didn’t look convinced, and frankly, Melkor didn’t blame him. He wished he could believe that Ungoliant was dead and that he didn’t have to worry about her anymore, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of the dark maia. His confidence in his own abilities had been severely shaken, after seeing how easily she had overpowered him. It scared him, the helplessness and fear he had felt before the balrogs showed up. He hated to admit it, but they were the only reason he had survived. One balrog, Ashbel, had even stayed by him to make sure he got back to the fortress safely, offering his huge arm for support. Even though Melkor had growled and brushed him off, secretly he appreciated his minion’s concern, although it was embarrassing that they felt like he couldn’t take care of himself anymore. He was the most powerful vala ever created, AND Dark Lord of Angband, for Eru’s sake! He shouldn’t have to rely on anyone. Still, the care and worry  the balrog and his lieutenant were showing for him created a warm feeling in his chest that most definitely WAS NOT what a dark lord should be experiencing after a defeat like that.

It wasn’t entirely a defeat though. Sure, his hands were ruined, and he lost the ability to change form, which was probably going to be a problem someday, BUT he had still succeeded in stealing the elves’ silmarils, killing their king, and totally destroying their stupid glowing trees. And, hopefully, the dark, hungry spider was actually dead, and not hiding away somewhere, plotting her revenge.

Because if that was case, and she was still alive………...well, Melkor had a feeling she wasn’t the type to forgive and forget.


                                            ~~~~~~

Melkor groaned and opened his eyes, then immediately shut them when he saw where he was.
 
You’re still dreaming, he told himself, this is just a nightmare. You’ll wake up soon, back in Angband with little Chrome curled up around you, breathing smoke in your face. Mairon will probably come in at any moment, chastising you for sleeping in so late. You’re not actually here, SHE’S not actually here, this is just a dream, just a dream, just a-

An excited, raspy voice broke into his thoughts, jarring him from his denial.

“Mother! I think it’s waking up! I’ll go check!”

There was a scrambling sound, and all hope left Melkor’s spirit as he felt something  jab his side and let out an excited hiss when he flinched. This was really happening, he was really here, SHE was really here, and there was nobody to save him now, no Mairon, no squadron of balrogs, not even a couple of orcs to cause a distraction while he escaped.  He was alone, and he was going to die.

Something jabbed his side roughly again and he shuddered as he heard Ungoliant’s voice coming from above, impatient and commanding.

“You, blackheart, I know you’re awake. Stop hiding from your fate and open your eyes.”

Not knowing what she would do if he refused, he obeyed, slowly opening his eyes and raising them until they met the glittering orbs of his captor. Ungoliant rested right above him, lounging in what looked like a giant hammock of woven spider webs, with a fluffy, horse sized spider perched on one of her legs, watching him intently. Behind her, oh Eru no, behind her was what appeared to be a whole kingdom of spiders, webs stretching across the Void as far as his eyes could see, with the horrible creatures scuttling along the strands, hissing to each other in a language he was glad he couldn’t understand. Melkor wanted to fly away as fast as he could, but when he tried to move he found that he was hanging near the giant spider, wrapped in a cocoon of sticky webs. He couldn’t move his arms, couldn’t spread his wings, couldn’t escape. He was trapped. He dragged his eyes back to Ungoliant’s eight dark ones, feeling terrified and sick.

“You actually were brave enough to look me in the eyes,” Ungoliant said mockingly, “I’m impressed. After our last encounter I’m surprised you didn’t just die of fear.”

Melkor gulped.

“I’m not afraid of you, spider!” he called, hoping he sounded braver than he felt, “I was the winner of that battle. You ran for the hills, bleeding from a thousand wounds!”

“Oh, is that so? I seem to remember our little fight quite differently. After all, wasn’t it your insufferable little posse of balrogs that did most of the fighting? And yet you still came out of that fight crippled, while I healed perfectly.”

“I’m not crippled!” Melkor protested angrily, but Ungoliant just smiled patronizingly at him.

“Really? Then why don’t you simply cast off your physical body and escape?”

Breathing heavily, Melkor hung his head, overcome with fear and humiliation, while Ungoliant chuckled cruelly, reveling in his terror and shame.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t kill you yet,” she said, causing Melkor to look up, a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes, but that was quickly crushed as she continued, “I’ve been planning my revenge for thousands of years, and believe me, it’s not going to be quick,  or pleasant…..for you!”

Melkor bit down a sob of horror as she moved forward, untangling her legs and revealing how much she had grown during her years of waiting in the dark. While she had been big before, now she was truly gigantic, her shiny, dark, body stretching longer than the fortress of Angband from her glistening mandibles to her spinnerets. Melkor had never been more panicked and afraid for his life than he was now. For years he’d been tormented by nightmares in which Ungoliant came back to kill him, but those had just been dreams. This was real. There was no waking up from this. The only thing that was better than in his nightmares was that Mairon was far away, where Ungoliant couldn’t reach him. That one fact was the only thing that kept him from despairing completely as Ungoliant came nearer, so close that Melkor could smell the bitter stench of venom rising off her mandibles.

“Your blood and life force will be a wonderful treat for my children,” she hissed, leaning closer to Melkor’s quaking form, “And, if I’m careful, you could feed them for many years. Think on that, and how you could have avoided all this if you had only given me those jewels all those years ago, while I see to my kingdom, crownless one. But don’t worry, I’ll be back soon, and then we’ll see who’s the real terror of Arda.”

Ungoliant strolled off, her laughter ringing in Melkor’s ears, while Melkor bowed his head, all hope having left his spirit, knowing, that no matter how much he wanted to believe there was a chance he could escape, that he was going to die here, unmourned and hated, cut off from everyone he loved, never having gotten a chance to say goodbye.