“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.”
“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