Luthien danced, through smoke and fire and the thick air of curling despair, she danced, spinning and twirling, cast upon dark thick fumes in the hall of fear, her song ringing out until it filled every corner, every crack, casting a spell like dew upon those she flitted above, her winged cloak taken from the evil bat creature casting her like a leaf on the dark wind. And they slept, slumbering in the dark hall, as her voice fell , her movements unending and desperate. Morgoth's eyes blazed before her. All of the malice and shadow in the world caught within their depths. A spell of sleeping, a brief binding that would send him crashing to the floor. She could do it. She could cast him down. And then what? The voice in her head was her own, soft and hesitant. She tired to push it aside, hovering in the air. And then what? Take the Silmaril, flee, flee to war and ruin and death. The Silmaril shone out, blindingly bright, a gem that bought only blood. It would buy only blood for her family, for her people. What had she ever been? Luthien Tinuviel, fairest of all of the children of Illuvatar, that and only that, her beauty the mark all distinguished her by, rarely anything else was said or thought of her, she was to them all just a jewel, no different than the shining gems before her eyes, wrought by Feanor, bringers of death. What was she? Daughter of a father who would hold her captive, who kept her within the shadows and trees. Daughter of a mother so great and distant, who she loved and yet never understood. Precious princess of a hidden realm, to be protected and lusted after and hidden well. A gem to be traded and bartered over, a maiden still after having lived countless years, kept hidden like a child. The thought that came to her then was one that had haunted the edge of her mind for weeks, dark and evil, and yet never more tempting. She saw Morgoth's dark power, and imagined what she could do with it, imagined what she could do if she earned his trust, if she took on the mantle of queen, dark and terrible. What she could do. She was not even sure if she wanted to protect or to rule, if she had that power. She knew only that the image of herself as a dark queen, terrible and powerful, had haunted her for weeks. No longer a gem to be won, but instead one to whom the people bowed in fear and awe. Her own being, for the first time more than just what others saw her as. She felt her song changing. She looked at Beren, cast sleeping like a beast upon the floor. Man who she loved, man who loved her. What awaited them together? She would watch him grow old and die, he would feel his life slip away, his bones grow old, as she stood by unchanging. And that was if they lived at all. In the end all that awaited them was a final sundering. She imagined letting him sleep on, bargaining for his life, sending him far from here, to wake up with all they had lived through a faint dream. He would stand and wander, find a new home, find some mortal woman with whom he could spend his short life in joy. She had faltered to long, Morgoth would not be held forever. With a shudder Luthien realized her decision was made, and with a final keening note she fell to the ground, standing unafraid before Morgoth's throne, meeting his eyes, though they burned her to the soul, and refusing to look away.

"What's this? Why do you halt your dance, your spell?" His vice was thunder and fire and death, the cries of countless dying.

"I do not wish to send you into sleep."

"What makes you think that you could?"

"If I wished it, you would be cast upon the floor now."

His laughter rang out, like metal grating on stone. She forced herself not to look away.

"I have a proposition for you oh lord of shadows."

"The little minstrel thinks she can make deals with me now?"

"Yes." She took a breath. "I would become your queen." She saw the shock shine out in his eyes, a fact which gave her a rush of satisfaction. There was a long moment of surprised silence, and then his laughter rang out again, although it was not as easy this time. It was confused.

"My queen? What lies you spin. The fair little bird would come to be willingly, and thinks she can beguile me."

"I think that you can see the truth of my words, otherwise I would be cast down into shadows already. You are given pause."

"I am amused, nothing more. Why would you wish that? You, fair elf maid, daughter of Melian, friend of all that is good. You lie, in a desperate bid for life."

"If I wished it you would be asleep, Beren and I would be fleeing with a Silmaril cut from your crown. No lord, I speak truth. I am Luthien Tinuviel, fairest of all the children of the world, a gem that is bartered, a captive in her own home, seeing only the twilight and never beyond, seen only as a fair toy to be traded. You are no different from any other, looking upon me with lust. But I see in you some spark that I understand. You were the fairest of all once as well, you were the greatest and most beautiful. But you wanted to break away. You saw beyond the designs that were laid out for you. And your punishment for this was banishment and darkness. You think I do not understand what it is to be trapped? You think I do not understand what it is to see beyond the simple dull deigns you are expected to follow? I see what there is in this world, what there is to be done, what can be done. I do not wish to be under the rule of any one, no matter how great. And in that, foul lord of carrion and shadows we are similar. You create chaos, I can turn that chaos into a sort of mad sense." She fell silent, refusing to look away. Morgoth looked at her long and hard, and she felt as if the flesh was being stripped away from her bones. Finally he spoke.

"And what of your precious home? What of your mortal plaything? I do not believe you would leave them to suffer." He was not casting her down. He was intrigued despite himself. Luthien smiled.

"No. I intend to bargain for their life. I will have Beren sent far from here, to safety, I will have you leave my parents realm alone, not that you have much of a choice. You know already, so there is no sense in hiding it, that I will want to manipulate you into giving me what I want."

This time his laughter was neither confused nor cruel, but genuine.

"I underestimated you Luthien daughter of Melian. You aren't just a pretty gem with sweet enchantments, are you? You are a cunning and bold creature, if a bit naïve and rash."

"I have had long years to hone my skills. And singing and enchantment are not my only talents. I have watched the politics play out around me, I have learned how these things work. A keen and cunning mind is a powerful weapon when none expect it of you."

"What is to stop me from taking you now? By force? What is to stop me from taking you as a thrall, killing your human and using you as I see fit?"

"What is to stop you?" She gathered all of her strength. It was time to play her final card. "Nothing. But what would be the fun in that? You grow bored oh dark lord, you grow restless in your power. What use am I as a thrall, seething with hate and pain? No lord, as a queen I am something else entirely. I am a puzzle, I am something new, I am an opponent, a challenge. I am the way you rise beyond all of this. I am the piece that none saw coming. I can help you play your dark game, and I can help you win." She let her cloak fall, revealing all that she was and staring directly into his foul eyes. There was no going back now. There was no laughter from his foul mouth now. He stared at her long and hard, his expression one of anger and something else entirely. It felt like agonizing hours passed by as she stood under his gaze. Finally a smile broke out across his face.

"You intrigue me daughter of Melian. I was going to kill you where you stood, a moment ago, as you spoke your twisting words. I was going to strike you down. But you intrigue me. I do not trust you, and my instinct is to cast you down now, into torture and darkness. But you are a cunning creature, and you speak with more knowledge of my mind than any would expect. No daughter of Melian, I will not kill you. In fact..." He stood, and it took all of her strength not to shrink away. "I think that I will accept your offer, or think on it, though do not let yourself think that you have won. I trust you less then I trust the Valar."

"And I trust you less than that." She shuddered internally. She had done it. The horror and elation mixed inside of her in equal measure.

"So then speak your little terms. I am amused to hear what you wish to do with your human toy."

"Beren will be sent far away, somewhere safe a green. His memory of our trials together will be to him but a dream, a sweet dream to hold within his breast. You will not harm him, nor suffer any of your thralls to harm him. And you will not harm my family,or their realm."

"You speak with confidence, as if you can command me."

"I though I was to be your queen. A queen has a say in her kings workings."

"Ha, queen! You can barley stomach to look at me."

"I did not choose this path because I lusted for you. Your appearance worries me little. It is your power, your realm, that intrigues me."

"Very well. I will humor you. Your human will be safe, if only because he will pose not threat. And I can not attack the realm of your foul mother anyway."

"You will not use me as a bargain tool to treat with my mother and father."

"Ha! You are a bright one."

"You will not let it be know that I am here, you will not let my choice be known, nor use me as a piece to gain my parents realm."

"That would be a poor way to treat my queen."

"You have little worry for me feelings."

"That is true."

"It is therefor wise for me to think these things through."

"Very well little enchantress, I will humor you in that respect as well."

"So here we stand." She looked around, shaking, finally allowing her nerves to catch up with her, looking around the dark noxious room, at the faces of his foul host.

"Here we stand. I hope my servants will awake soon. I want them to meet their new queen after all." His eyes glinted with amusement, malice, and something else unreadable.

She didn't say anything, simply walked over to where Beren lay, singing softly, weaving sleep deeper into his mind. She gazed upon his face, the face she loved so much. She would always love him, hold her memory of their time within her breast. But he deserved a better life then she could give. She let her tears fall on his face, laying her hand on his cheek and leaning down to give him a lingering kiss. Her murmured in his sleep, his hand finding her face.

"Goodbye Beren." She stood up and turned around, to find Morgoth watching with a smirk on his face. She met his eyes.

"He is wrapped deep within sleep."

"Fine fine little thrall who would be queen. He will sleep long I hope, and on the morrow I will send him away, send him away to this green land you speak of."

"If you harm him I will know."

"I have no reason to harm him, and I don't find myself tempted to do so. He's a fool." He laughed again, but she ignored him, turning back to Beren.

"May our time together be to you as a sweet dream."

"So what now little queen?"

"I need a place to sleep" She stilled her shaking hands, forced the tears away. She had made her choice.

"A wife usually shares her husbands bed does she not? Isn't that how your custom dictates it should be? Or has that changed in my time away?" His smirk split his entire face, utterly terrifying.

"I am not your wife yet, and I have journeyed hard, I need a room to rest, a place to clean myself, fresh clothing, provisions. I need a place where I can gather my thoughts. Alone.
"Haha, again with the demands. And again I will humor you, if only for my own amusement. I suppose I room can be found for you, little queen."

"Very well, I-" She was cut off with a rush of air, darkness enveloping her suddenly. Utter darkness, the very air being crushed from her body. And suddenly it was gone, passed, and she found herself gasping for air , crouched to the ground. Morgoth loomed above her, smirking.

"Angband is a massive place. Unfortunate fools have gone mad wandering these halls, never to find their way out. My way is faster, Here we are, this room should serve you well."

"You left Beren alone with your lackeys! They'll awake and-"

"I moved your toy as well. Now still your tongue."

She looked around the hall, the walls wrought of polished dark and twisting marble, glistening like entrails, maddening to look at, the fire from the torches shining off of the coils, the floor twisting red like blood and flame.

"I trust this is to your liking." He gestured to the massive door, the knob a tortured face, twisting in agony. It flew open, and Luthien walked slowly in, turning to speak, but finding it slamming in her face, Morgoth vanished. She shivered. He had locked her in surely. But when she tried the door it swung open. He was playing along. She stepped back in.

The room was dark, thick as ink, she couldn't see far ahead. With a tentative whisper she stepped forward, her body aching. Her step seemed to trigger something, and with a rush of air, light burst out around her, lamps of fire magically springing to life above her head. She found herself in a large high-ceilinged room, twining pillars rising to the ceiling, which was etched and painted with scenes of fire and war, and of creation. The walls were smooth and reflective, as opposed to the maddening twists of the hall, the fire reflecting off of their black surfaces from every angle, both terrifying and beautiful. No wonder the walls needed no adornment, the fire reflecting upon them was art enough. The floors were black and shining as well, etched with red and gold, thick rugs, beautifully made, spoils of war likely, soft on her feet. She walked forward, through this strange room, looking at the shelves that were carved into the walls, lined with strange books, scrolls, objects which blazed with strange power, treasures stolen in war, or made with skill of hand. The room was long, and a huge arched window sat at the end, looking out over the madness of the fortress, the towers and spires, logic defying bridges of stone over chasms of fire, the mountains rising like black claws, She realized that this long room jutted out from the side of the fortress, like the prow of a ship.

A simple door next to the window led out to a balcony, the very edge of the fortress itself, and below her there was empty hair, down and down until it met a fiery chasm. She felt her stomach seize in fear and awe, and quickly stepped back inside. Under the window there was a soft seat, gold and black, soft pillows red like fire scattered over it. Such fine things for this horrifying place. She looked over to the far wall, and found the bed, huge, canopied and elaborate, made of the same black marble that made up all around her. It was carved with strange runes and beings, gold and red. She supposed Morgoth had a color scheme. She wouldn't have guessed him to take such care in the appearance of his home. Maybe this was to impress her. He seemed to have some vanity, She ran her hand along the blanket, red, orange, blue white, shining with gems. Like fire. The bed was soft as air, like a cloud, gossamer scarves of red providing the canopy. This bed was far to large for one. She closed her eyes. She would have to lay with him. The thought caused her stomach to tie into knots. But they were not all of disgust and fear. She slid off the of the bed. It was high off of the ground, and she fell without grace, having expected her feet to touch the ground immediately. She ran her hand over a huge desk of polished dark wood, drawers built all along it's length, an elaborate armchair wrought to look like a dragon pushed against it. There was a beautiful quill, and an ink pot like a roaring dragon, wrought of ruby.

A burbling alerted her to water. That made no sense. She wandered the room looking for the source, admiring the strange dark beauty of the place, until she found another door, leading into a smaller room, the walls and ceiling entirely made of mirrors. And in the center there was a huge bath, steaming hot, a fountain in the center flowing constantly, made to look like a maiden, her mouth open in a scream, the water pouring from it. Luthien walked closer slowly, the lifelike eyes of the statue disconcerting her. The floor of the bath was tiled in gold and red mosaics, forming a magnificent dragon. Shelves were lined with glass bottles, holding liquids of various colors. The whole room had a sweet heavy smell. She opened a bottle and blinked in surprise at the strong smell of lily's. She was disconcerted by the mirrors, seeing her reflection all around. She did not want to self reflect now. In any way. She looked at her face, and saw a haggard maiden with eyes that had seen to much, her hair still growing back from her escape from Doriath. She was bruised and beaten, her clothes hanging off of her in rags. With a rough sigh she slipped them off, staring at her ribs, staring at the bruises and cuts that covered her body. She slipped into the bath, slowly easing herself down the stairs, into the steaming water.

The sensation was instantiations and all encompassing, her entire body held gently in the water, almost scalding, and yet she enjoyed the feeling, sinking into the water and leaning her head on the edge. She let herself drift off, just floating in the steaming water. How was it that the steam did not fog the mirrors? Eventually she forced her eyes open and reached towards the shelf, selecting a blue bottle and swimming towards the fountain. When she uncorked the bottle it let out a strong scent of roses. She poured some of the liquid into her hands, lathering it through her hair and over her body, and then letting the stream of water from the fountain wash it clean. The warm water was heavenly, and she was tempted to stay in the bath forever. With a sigh she swam back to the steps, climbing out and looking for something to dry herself with. As if on command, she saw a soft pile of towels in the corner. Whens she lifted one to her face it was soft and warm. Once she was sufficiently dry she wandered back out of the bath room, leaving her rags behind. She had a feeling she would find clothing in this room. Indeed, she found another door, which opened into a room lined floor to ceiling with various garments, all of which seemed to be in her size. She gave a bitter laugh

"Lord Morgoth spoils me..." This room was lit by the same strange fiery lamps. She ran her hands along the soft fabrics, admiring the elaborate embroidery, the strangeness of all of these garments, so unlike what she was used to. Well, some of them were, it seemed there were also garments near identical to the styles she had worn in Doriath.

"Am I dressing for dinner I wonder? I doubt he'll leave me here forever. I might as well dress well." She searched aimlessly through the room, finding collections of lovely shoes, drawers and displays covered in jewelry. She decided to simply pick what caught her eye. She kept her mind on the task at hand, not allowing it to wander to the scale of the choice she had made. The path she had chosen. She could self reflect later. After a while she selected a kirtle of shimmering deep red, with long flowing sleeves, and over that a surcoat of gossamer black shimmering with red like sparks of fire and blood in the night, it's cut low, long sleeves falling over those of the kirtle, but slashed in the front to reveal the undersleaves She searched some more,finding a strange band made of strips of gold, which rested just below her breasts.

There was a vanity with a large mirror, and she settled down on the stool, finding a pair of large golden earrings, and a thick heavy necklace, reminding her of dwarf craft, three red gems edged in gold hanging from the band. With some searching through the drawers she found some blood red paint for her lips, a dusting of black powder for her lashes. She looked at her hair, still wild and to short for her purposes. She closed her eyes, remembering the songs her mother had taught her, focusing her energy as she sang, feeling her hair grow longer, until it reached well past her waist, There was no point in keeping it short anymore. She let it falls loose down her back and around her face, but took much of it, twisting it into braids and buns, elaborate patterns that sat high on her head, near the back, the way her mother had always done it for her. And finally she searched for a crown. She would be his queen, whether he wished it or no. She found no crown, but an elaborate golden headpiece, inlaid with shining red. She remembered shoes at the last moment, fining pair of simple red silk slippers. She had hated dressing and putting any effort to her appearance when she was young. A wild little thing. The only reason she had ever learned to dress herself was her father's insistence. Her mother had loved to do her hair, singing softly. Luthien felt a pang. She looked at herself in the mirror, surprised at what she saw. She was dark and strange, frightening, another woman. She left the clothing room, biting her lip.

"Well what now? All dressed up and alone in this strange room. I wonder if my gracious will see fit to make an appearance." She wandered back to the window, staring out. This main room felt so empty, so huge. She would need to fix that. As she gazed out at the scene below, someone softly cleared their throat behind her. She started with a yelp and turned, her hands raising in defense out of habit. She found herself looking at Morgoth. He had shrank down to be closer to her size, though she noted he was still taller than her. And she was considered tall, though her parents still towered above her. He could change his size but not much else. She remembered her mother telling her that he put all of his will out into his works, and thus trapped himself in his single form. She looked for the seven wounds, given to him my Fingolfin, the wounds he could not heal. His face was scared and strange. Some of his old beauty seemed to remain, under his dark visage, which made it all the worse, that strange mixture. His face was terrible to look upon, his eyes boring into her soul. And yet he was not hideous. There was a strange frightening raw beauty to his face, all the more horrible for this fact She could not explain his appearance, nor process it fully. He was surrounded by a constant roiling cloud of smoke and a hint of bright fire, the ground around him seeming to crack, magma shining through. But when he moved the floor was as it had been. The Silmarils blazing in his crown filled her heart with strange awe. She gathered herself and met his eyes, pits darker than night, or the deepest places of the earth. They were the darkness from the void beyond the world, and they were beautiful and terrifying.

"My lord Morgoth."

"I see the little minstrel dresses well." His eyes roved over her body. She bit her lip.

"You can call me with a title of respect, as I call you."

"So many demands pretty one."

"I even give you permission to call my simply Luthien."

"Ha ha, I should take your head off. But instead I'll again humor you. Very well then Luthien,I suppose yew wish to eat."

"I do require sustenance, though I doubt you do."

"True, but I can enjoy the act of consuming food. It's amusing." His voice was like thunder and flames and screaming. She forced herself to refrain from shaking. Without warning she found herself sucked back into the dark vacuum, her lungs being crushed, as if she was held tightly by a huge hand, until she was suddenly released and found herself in a small intimate room, the walls the same twisting marble, with a high round table of gold set with several tureens and dishes of food, pitchers and chalices balancing delicately on the edge. She smoothed her dress.

"I will never come to know my new home if you always insist of whipping me about with no notice."

"Sit." He gestured to a golden chair, and she pulled it out, settling down across from him, stomach churning in fear and elation. She cautiously took a plate, taking some of the strange fragrant stew that steamed in the largest tureen, and finding a warm roll as well. There was so much food on the table, and she felt her stomach clench. She did not want to eat. But she reluctantly took a bit of everything, and poured herself a glass of the wine, sipping at it slowly and taking nibbles of the food. For his part, her host ate with relish, never once taking his eyes off of her, never once seeming to blink.

"So than bold one, you dance into my realm, and name yourself my queen."

"I suppose so."

"You are a strange creature Luthien daughter of Melian."

"So they tell me.,"

"Heh, well, you intrigue me. I see much harm that lays in taking you as my queen, but I will do it anyway. The passing of ages grows dull without a challenge."

"I would agree."

"And I look forward to tearing that pretty dress off of you after this little meal."

"That won't be happening."

"Oh really? And why is that?" There was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I wont just be taken like some prize."

"What did yo expect to happen?' He offered her a bunch of grapes, his hands blackened and cracked, burned long ago by the Silmarils.

"I won't lay with you after a meal and some stiff conversation."

"Ha, I should say you'll do what I ask of you. What do you expect me to do, sit here and fuck you with my eyes?"

"I expect you to seduce me, lord Morgoth." She took a breath. This was dangerous game. There was a long pause, and then his laugh rang out again, like crunching bones.

"Seduce you? What do you expect me to do? Weave pretty crowns of flowers for your shining head? Sing to you of the world ere I came and marred it? Give you pretty gifts and whisper into your ear? How naïve are you girl?"

"I did not say court me. I said seduce me. Do it in your own way, but win me, make me want to come to you willingly. Without magic or trickery, or lies. Seduce me."

"And why should I not just take you now?"

"Because you've already said you crave challenges. You could have me now, across this very table, but what is the challenge in that? Think of it as a game, a challenge in which the end is me in your bed."

"You play a dangerous game girl. Always waving the idea of a challenge before me. I do not bow before any, least of all you. But very well, I am in a mood to humor you. I will seduce you Luthien daughter of Melian. But you had best hope it doesn't take ove long. I am not patient, and I will not wait forever.

Luthien smiled. Let the game begin.