When I asked Crackers what she wanted, she tossed around a few names...and this is what I came up with. Anyway, this is to my good friend, and irreplaceable beta: the wonderful CrackinAndProudOfIt. Happy Birthday Crackers!

Maedhros woke slowly, his mind hazy and confused. He hurt, and it was truly an odd sensation. He could not remember injuring himself. Where was he? He was in someone's arms…His atar's, perhaps? He slowly opened his eyes–odd, he could not remember closing them–but the world around him remained hazy as he struggled to focus. A pure, holy light met his gaze, and instinctively he knew he needed to get it. He reached for it, but a hand caught his wrist, and a voice chuckled silkily, shaking the chest he was cradled to.

"No, you can't have that, little king."

The voice was smooth and controlled, but there was a dark amusement underlying it all that sparked Maedhros's memory, and the resulting rush of adrenaline brought him fully awake. His chin came up defiantly, and fire flashed in his grey eyes as he pulled back as far as the arms holding him would allow. He had expected many things when first taken prisoner, but waking to find himself being held by Morgoth had not been one of them, and somehow disturbed him more than the torture had.

"And now you're awake and glaring at me. Pity. You're much more companionable when you're unconscious."

"I fail to see," Maedhros said through gritted teeth, "why I would wish to be companionable to the Vala who killed my grandfather, stole my father's rightful possessions, and who has proven himself not in the least bit honorable in attacking the embassy we sent to treat with you!"

"Please, Maedhros, be reasonable. You brought more force than was agreed as well; we both had treachery on our minds. I simply was better prepared than you."

Maedhros glared, saying nothing. Morgoth studied him for a moment.

"Ah, but you're not going to be reasonable, are you? Your life would be much easier if you were."

"If I were concerned with my own comfort, I would have stayed in Valinor," Maedhros replied. "But I came, as did the rest of my kin, for vengeance and reparation, and we shall have both. Now put me down!"

"As you will," Morgoth replied agreeably, setting the Elf on his feet, but keeping a hold of him. Maedhros's pride barely allowed him to admit to himself it was only the Vala's grip that kept him upright, weak as he was from what they had already done to him. Morgoth studied him for a moment with obvious amusement, then pushed him to sit in a chair, which he promptly bound Maedhros to, before taking a seat himself.

"My good favor is not a bad thing to have, Maedhros," Morgoth said, almost a musing quality to his voice. "You say you came for vengeance and reparation, but you will have neither, for your forces are far too small, especially after your father left half of them on the other side of the sea. You are responsible for your people now…will you sentence them to a hopeless war? Give them peace, Maedhros. Agree to swear as my vassal, and I shall even give you one of your father's precious jewels back to you."

"I do not trust your words, Morgoth Bauglir, nor will I place my people into slavery to you!"

"You'll change your mind," Morgoth smiled complacently. "They all do in the end. Don't they, my little wolf?"

Maedhros turned his head as a slender, black-clad Maia stepped from the shadows. His eyes were a brilliant gold, but they were strangely blank, as if he had no emotions at all.

"My lord?" he queried, voice as emotionless as his eyes. Morgoth crooked a finger at him.

"Come here, Mairon," he ordered. The Maia obeyed, coming to stand before his lord. Negligently, Morgoth reached out and pulled Mairon into his lap. The Maia's expression didn't change–or show anything at all, actually–but Maedhros somehow got the feeling Mairon was just has happy to be there has he had been.

"Now this one," Morgoth said, speaking about the Maia as if he were unable to understand him, "took me quite a long time to get. You may not think it to look at him, but he's just as powerful as Eönwë and Ilmarë. Younger, of course, much younger, but equal in power. I wanted him from when we first entered Eä, but it took a long time, and quite a bit of work before I could get him to join me. But he did so in the end."

"Now you," Morgoth continued, turning his attention back to Maedhros, "are becoming quite a bit of work yourself. You're making enemies among my torturers, you realize. Not exactly the safest thing to do. It's getting to the point where it's becoming likely they will kill you, and I do not wish that to happen. I'm looking forward to you kneeling at my feet, you see. So I've come up with a new idea." He turned his attention to the Maia he held.

"Did you finish what I ordered you create, little wolf?" he asked.

"Of course, my lord," the Maia replied promptly, "If I might be permitted to go fetch it?"

"Go on," the Vala said, and the Maia obeyed with alacrity. Maedhros watched him go, then turned to Morgoth with a sardonic expression.

"Oh, yes, he's so happy to be in your service," he said sarcastically. Morgoth actually chuckled at that.

"No, he isn't," the Vala agreed. "But he considers it better than the alternative, and is too frightened to ever disobey me."

"And if he did disobey you?" Maedhros asked. Morgoth smiled with contentment.

"I'd destroy him," the fallen Vala said. "If he ever failed or disobeyed me, he knows I'd break his mind and twist him into a weapon to be used against all those who dare to stand against me. If he's not useful one way, he'll be useful another. It's very quite simple."

Maedhros stared at the Vala in horror. His father had accused the Valar of keeping them as thralls, but Fëanor's eldest son realized his father had not understood just what true thralldom was.

"And you think I would place myself and my people under such a bond?" he asked, contempt and outrage in his voice. To his surprise and anger, Morgoth nodded complacently.

"Oh, it's quite simple," he assured the Elf. "All I have to do is make it better than the alternative." Maedhros turned his steely gaze on the Vala. Never, he vowed to himself. Morgoth chuckled, reading the thought in his gaze. Their staring match was interrupted by the return of Mairon, followed by a few Orcish guards. He held what appeared to be a length of chain in his hands.

"Ah, good," Morgoth said, standing. "Guards, bring him along." He unchained Maedhros, and the guards dragged him after the Vala, trailed by the Maia as they travelled through Angband, into areas Maedhros had never seen. He wondered absently why they were heading up. He would have thought they would have dragged him down into the deepest pits they could find. But instead they dragged him up and out into the night sky, dark and studded with stars. Stars were still a fascination for Maedhros; he had seen them a few times in Valinor, but now they were the only illumination in this dark world. A cold breeze blew then, and Maedhros shuddered, suddenly fiercely missing the Trees and their warmth.

"Here ought to do it," Morgoth said suddenly. "Mairon," The Maia move forward, and with Song began to drive a long iron spike into the face of the cliff. Once it was securely fastened, he uncoiled the chain attached, and Maedhros saw that there was a small cuff on the end to it. He suddenly realized their plans, and fought being dragged forward, though the Orcs that held him easily overpowered him. The cuff was tightly locked around his right wrist, the small Maia who had made it intently checking it before stepping back.

"My lord, might I suggest he be lowered slowly, rather than simply pushed off the cliff?" Mairon said, his voice carefully controlled, with the slightest sardonic edge to it. "The chain will hold, but I fear his arm may not." Morgoth laughed, then pulled the slight Maia into his arms.

"Lower him slowly," he gave the order to the Orcs, who grabbed a short length of chain, then pushed the Elf. Maedhros fell five or six feet before jerking to a halt, and was lowered carefully the rest of the way. He could see there was another path to his left that would lead right to where he was hanging. He gave a short, irritated sigh. The only good thing he could see about this would be if he would be left alone: but that seemed not to be.

"He will be your responsibility, Mairon," he distantly heard Morgoth say. "Keep him alive."

"Yes, my lord," the Maia responded, before Maedhros was left entirely alone.

Maedhros did not know how long they left him alone; he wished he knew how to tell time by the stars as they older elves did. But it was at least a day, he judged, if not longer, before he heard footsteps on the small path to where he was hanging. He turned his head to watch as Mairon came sure-footed down the path, not seeming to mind the long drop-off to his side. He was carrying a bowl full of what looked like some kind of porridge, and a water skin. Maedhros set his jaw. Mairon took one look and sighed in exasperation.

"You are going to eat this, whether you will or no. I will pour it down your throat if I must," the Maia threatened. Maedhros was intrigued by the first emotion he had seen from Mairon. Away from Morgoth, the Maia's expression was much less guarded, though he still would not call it open.

Getting Maedhros to eat took Mairon some time, but it ended with the Elf being forced to swallow in order to breath. The week ended (Maedhros was marking time by assuming the Maia visited once a day) with Mairon threatening to shove a leather tube down his throat. When he actually did so, Maedhros relented, and began to eat without making it a fight.

At first, the Maia simply fed him, then returned inside. As time went on, however, Mairon began lingering, occasionally speaking to him. Maedhros realized that Mairon saw the time he spent out of Angband a pleasant reprieve.

"You know, you feed me more than strictly necessary," Maedhros commented one day, and nearly wanted to hit himself. His arm hurt enough to lessen any desire to add to his pain, however.

"Perhaps," Mairon said calmly. "But I would hate to miscalculate on the low end of how much food you require. Besides, you are hanging from your wrist, virtually helpless, and will remain doing so until you are willing to submit to Morgoth. I think your life is miserable enough." Maedhros studied him.

"Morgoth said you served him because you considered it better than the alternative," he said. "What was the alternative?" Mairon looked down, then shrugged, raising his eyes again to meet Maedhros.

"He threatened those I cared about, forcing me to distance myself from them to protect them. By the time he was finished...and my treachery was discovered...I had nowhere else to go. Now...I am chained here, just as securely as you are."

"I am sorry," Maedhros said sincerely. Mairon shrugged.

"There is nothing that can be done about it now," he said. "I do what I must to survive, and try not to think on the past too much."

Maedhros came to think on those words often. He did not know what he would have done had it been one of his little brothers captured instead of him. But since it was he who was captured, he was determined to not betray his people by enslaving them to the fallen Vala.

As the years went by, he often found himself considering fading. He wanted to die, to end this torment, but something held him back. Morgoth had not yet managed to break his spirit; to die would be to deny the Vala what he wanted, but it was also an admittance that it had been to much for him on Maedhros's part. And Mairon had been ordered to keep him alive. Maedhros did not want to be responsible for giving Morgoth an excuse to hurt the Maia. Rationally, he knew that was most likely why Morgoth had told him he would, but he did not doubt that the fallen Vala would do exactly what he had said. He vowed to himself that he would stay alive unless he was about to give in to what the Vala wanted.

And he had come to like Mairon. Perhaps it was simply that the Maia was the only person he saw, other than the occasional visits from Morgoth. Maedhros firmly believed his conversations with Mairon were the only reason he was still sane; otherwise the isolation would have driven him mad.

Thus it was due to Mairon he still had both wits and strength to reply when Fingon came searching for him. He saw in his cousin an escape that Morgoth could not blame Mairon for, so he begged his cousin to kill him when it became clear there was no way for Fingon to reach him. But it seemed the Valar had not quite completely forgotten the exiled Noldor, and Fingon did save him, though the cost was his right hand. His last thought before he lost consciousness in his cousin's arms upon the Eagle's back, was the regretful knowledge he would never see Mairon again.

As for Mairon, after a brief, panicked moment he thought Morgoth might blame him for Maedhros's disappearance, convinced all that his happiness was for a distasteful chore finally ended. The small bit of sadness and regret he felt he concealed, and told himself it was for the loss of the reprieve he found leaving Angband to be, even if it had only been for a short time. But in truth, he found himself missing the red-haired Elf, and the brief glimpse of the companionship and Light he'd left behind so long ago.