Chapter Text
Sauron wasn’t sure what to make of the elf. He had shown up a fortnight ago and made himself at home at the edge of the forest just half a mile from Sauron’s tower. He wasn’t so close that Sauron could justifiably twist his finger just so and eviscerate the elf from the land and he had somehow charmed all of Sauron’s wolves with snacks and pets and now none of his top warriors wanted to harm the elf. If Sauron wanted him dead, he would have to wander to the forest edge and kill the elf himself.
It was a hassle and Sauron had better things to do than murder one stray elf. Well, that and he had not yet ascertained how important said elf was. Melkor hadn’t left him with a large retinue. It was just him, his wolves, and a scant few workers to maintain the fort. The last thing he needed was to kill some important brat and draw the attention of elven forces.
So Sauron left the elf mostly alone but would frown occasionally when he noticed that the elf had not yet left.
The dismissal lessened slightly a few months in when he realized that the elf was building a house. He sent a few natural disasters the elf’s way and ensured that the area would rain heavily and even set the forest on fire to reduce the materials available to the elf. He tried to make it seem that the land was inhospitable and scare the elf away.
And yet, a year in, the elf had a house made of stone with enchantments protecting it from earthquakes and tornados. This was a persistent elf, that was for sure. Still, in all the time that the elf had lived next door to Sauron, he had never trespassed on Sauron’s land. He kept to his own space and Sauron’s wolves liked him and he never did anything to make Sauron think him a threat.
Sauron did have the passing thought that the elf may have been sent as a spy, but since constructing his house, the elf spent the majority of his time hidden away within the walls that were enchanted to not let anyone see into the house or out of it. The elf had made it clear he was both hiding from someone and afraid to look for someone. Either that or he must be a most peculiar hermit.
And so Sauron allowed it even as a year turned to two years and then to three years before Sauron noticed that the elf had built another building that attached to the first and had a chimney that burned nearly constantly. It wasn’t until he could hear the sounds of a hammer hitting metal that Sauron’s interest in the elf grew.
It had been so long since he had seen any smithing other than the crude makings of orcs that Sauron was immediately interested. He himself had not stood in a forge since he left Aule and he was interested. Part of him yearned to create again and to be frank he was bored. Melkor had left him here over a decade ago with an order to watch this tower.
The elf was the only interesting thing to happen in all this time and Sauron was so starved for entertainment that he eventually found himself folding to his curiosity.
Just one peek and once he’d seen the elf’s subpar workings, Sauron could dismiss the elf and potentially rid himself of this nuisance once and for all.
It was a good plan, Sauron decided as he dressed himself in his favourite fana, all red hair and elegant features, with slik spun white robes and heavy gold accents. He was at the elf’s door in no time as he plastered a fake sweet smile to his face and knocked on the door.
“One moment!” A voice called out - the elf’s voice. It wasn’t a bad voice, Sauron found himself thinking, a little too innocent sounding and cheerful, but it had a nice timbre to it and had a musicality to it that made Sauron think the elf had some training in song.
The door opened accompanied by an exasperated, “You were here just an hour ago. I’m afraid I have no other treats to offer. The meat from that deer is still drying and I won’t be feeding you half-dried snacks.”
“I don’t believe we have met before,” Sauron kept his voice light and added a tinge of amusement even as he internally snarled at the elf’s tone. How dare he treat a visitor such as Sauron so carelessly? Had the elves forgone all manners?
“Oh!” The door opened to reveal a surprised elf with his jaw half dropped and his eyes drinking in Sauron’s appearance in amazement. Sauron preened a little with the look. He knew he looked delightful as this fana was specifically created to be the most beautiful appearance in all of Valinor.
Sauron inspected the elf just as the elf took in Sauron’s radiant appearance. The elf was… plain. Sauron didn’t know what else to say about this particular elf. He was used to the opulence of the elves of Aman who prided themselves on beauty just as Sauron had and had used any means necessary to improve their appearance. Even after arriving in Beleriand, the elves of Aman continued to dress ostentatiously when possible. This elf, while also sharing the light of the trees in his eyes, seemed to have been born to lesser elves of Aman. His unadorned dull brown hair and grey eyes were just the sort of visuals that would have shamed the elves of old. At least his skin was pleasant, a nice shade of brown that was unmarred by war.
At once, Sauron realized this elf could not be anyone of importance. His appearance was too plain and he wore no jewelry that the Aman elves had loved. Instead, everything about him screamed a lowborn elf that had stupidly taken up residence beside Sauron’s tower. (He could still be a spy, Sauron thought, but if so he was a very incompetent spy.)
“I apologize,” The elf spoke, finally having found his voice. “My only visitors these past years have been the wild wolves who like bothering me for my food scraps. I wasn’t aware anyone else lived nearby.”
A lie, Sauron could tell. The elf may speak evenly, but his eyes belied his words. He must know that he had moved near Sauron, so he was not entirely innocent. But why he had chosen here, Sauron still did not know, but he was now certain that there was some motive for the elf’s choice.
Not that Sauron voiced this. “Nor did I know another lived so close until I spied your chimney smoke. I had never seen its like in all my time here and thought to investigate.”
“Ah,” The elf half turned back into his house at those words before returning to Sauron with a bright and dumb smile. “I come from a line of smiths. The smoke you saw must have been from my forge.”
Of course, Sauron knew that. He would recognize the signs of a forge anywhere. Still, he played into this ignorance. “I was something of a smith years ago. Would it be an imposition to see this forge you have created?”
"Not at all!” The elf bubbly and enthusiastically ushered Sauron into the house and led him through the plain and cramped but homely living area to a small door which opened to the forge. Unlike the rest of the house that Sauron had seen which clearly displayed that the elf was no builder the forge was immaculate with large tables and a long anvil that stretched long enough for multiple people to use at once and a wide quenching bath that fed from some out of sight well to keep it cool and full. That wasn't to dismiss the stove itself and the pristine but clearly used tools that littered every surface.
Sauron was a little star-struck. The last forge he had seen which could rival this one was Aule's which was hailed as the greatest forge in the world. His hands itched to hold a hammer and do just about anything. To craft something beautiful for the first time since joining Melter.
"Beautiful, no?” The elf asked rhetorically with an overconfident tone, “I am rather proud of how it turned out. I am no builder but I have spent my whole life in a forge.”
‘Are you any good?’ Sauron had to catch himself not to ask such a question. He did not want to draw the elf's ire, but he failed to see how such a plain and unforgettable elf could possibly have the skills to match such a forge. He expected only Feanor and his ilk could hope to match skill to this forge and this elf was certainly not the beauty that everyone said Feanor's children shared. Instead, Sauron held his tongue and nodded, “You are a fine builder indeed. I have seen no lovelier forge on this side of the sea.”
Those words seemed to dim the elf slightly and Sauron worried that he had said the wrong thing. Did the elf not like compliments or had Sauron stepped on a sore spot? The elf had said he had no skills as a builder, and based solely on the house Sauron would have agreed, but not on the forge. It was breathtaking. Although Sarson was willing to admit that he may be slightly swayed by nostalgia for its features were strikingly similar to the forges of Aman that Sauron had once used.
"If you think so, I would have you see my smithing skills,” The elf's words were shy and Sauron had a moment of epiphany. So, the elf had often been called a better builder than a smith at least more than the elf would like, especially since smithing seemed to be this elf's craft.
And so, with a better understanding of the elf, Sauron nodded encouragingly, "I would love to.”
"I have only just completed my construction and haven't had the time to seek out any materials. I have only the little scrap metal that I brought with me.” Despite the excuse, the elf reached into his pocket and pulled out some small metal trinket and held it out for Sauron's approval (or condemnation. Sauron wasn't sure which he was seeking.)
Sauron accepted the trinket that had been bent into a thin leaf and surprisingly had to try quite hard not to show his bewilderment. The materials were crude as the elf had said, and yet there was undeniable skill in the handling of poor material. The tips of the leaf were curled into thin edges that spoke to an extensive knowledge of the material properties to work and cool the material properly while avoiding fractures and blemishes.
"Your skill is befitting of your forge," Sauron found himself admitting, for once not lying in his flattery.
"Thank you," The elf had flushed slightly at the praise and Sauron thought it rather suited the elf, lighting his face into being dotted with gold freckles. His face was actually pretty in the low light of the forge and the flush that brightened his dark face with starlight. He would be prettier covered in silver and gold Sauron couldn't help but think. Maybe wrapped in jewels and a happy flush, Sauron could see a being worthy of the Noldor.
The elf hesitated for a moment, his eyes darted from Sauron to his forse before shyly asking, ”Would you like to try? You mentioned that you haven't used a forge in some time. My supply of materials is limited, but you are free to use what I have.”
A refusal was on Sauron's lips. He was fine not forging even though the forge was immaculate and he had wasted enough time just speaking with this elf. He really should politely decline and inquire into the elf’s history, determine if the elf was a spy or a fool and find the most untraceable way to dispose of the elf. The words needed to achieve his thoughts were already formulated in his head and it would be so simple to say them.
But instead, Sauron nodded, “I would love to.”
The elf was beaming once more as he scrambled around to find equipment and protective gear that Sauron could use. When he passed a hammer into Sauron’s hands and looked at him with a challenge in his eyes, Sauron couldn’t possibly refuse, nor could he stop after a single broch with the elf inquiring about his techniques and positing potential improvements that could be made to his process. Somehow hours had passed when he finally pulled himself from the anvil.
The forge was now filled with small trinkets each more elaborate than the last though they had long given up on actually crafting in favour of debating material stability and the elf’s supposed method of accelerating the quenching process while retaining the same material structure. Sauron vehemently disagreed. Papers and ink had been pulled out of drawers at some point and just as the elf was writing his math and hypothesis on paper so too was Sauron writing his own arguments that could potentially disprove the elf’s words.
It was chaotic with much exuberant disagreement and scoffs and begrudging acknowledgement of each others’ points.
And most of all, it was the most fun Sauron had had since he could remember.
It was so fun that Sauron hadn’t realized how long he had spent in the elf’s company until he looked up from the elf’s crudely drawn phase diagram and noticed that no light was coming in through the windows and the room was lit by a dull orange light emitted from tall lanterns.
“Oh,” The elf commented when Sauron’s unresponsiveness caused him to look up in irritation. The irritation quickly left the elf’s voice when he too realized how dark the room had become. “I have made you miss both lunch and dinner.”
“This was much more important,” Sauron told the elf. As a Maiar, he didn’t really need to eat, so it was no issue for Sauron to miss a meal or two in favour of hearty discussion. But he also realized then that he had not learned anything about the elf, not even his name, other than that the elf was one of the most intelligent beings Sauron had ever had the pleasure of speaking with.
It was strange how just hours ago Sauron was certain the elf would die today, and yet he now would have to hold off on his murderous impulses for another week or so just to prove the elf wrong about his mathematically impossible foldover strategy for working with iron. Half a week to procure the material and another half a week to perform repeated tests to prove without a doubt that the elf was wrong.
“Do you live far?” The elf asked, “I would offer to host you tonight, but unless you would like to sleep in the forge, I don’t have much to offer.”
“I don’t live far at all,” Sauron told the elf with a biting smile. “Expect my return in 3 days with the iron to prove you wrong.”
“I look forward to it,” The elf said with a confidence that Sauron would be happy to crush in a week’s time. Just another week and then after asserting his own brilliance, Sauron would kill the elf and return to his quiet wait for Melkor’s return.
“Then, I will see you soon, neighbour,” Sauron told the elf as he drifted to the elf’s door.
But just as he opened the door, the elf cried out, “Wait!”
Sauron turned to find the elf sheepish as he continued, “I would know you’re name.”
“You may call me Mairon,” Sauron told the elf. He watched the elf’s face closely but no recognition flickered in the elf’s eyes which meant that the elf had never apprenticed under Aule else he would know the name of Aule’s best pupil.
He must really have been a lesser elf, Sauron deduced. An elf with his skills who had never been offered a place by Aule’s side could only have been of extremely poor birth. How unfortunate that his skills had not been recognized in Valinor. Alas, this was a different time and Sauron would dispose of the nuisance once his boredom was sated. He had always thought Aule too discriminatory in his selection of apprentices and it seemed he was once again proven correct.
“Mairon,” The elf annunciated the name slowly and reverently. The name sent chills up Sauron’s spine. It had been many many years since anyone had called him by that name and none had ever said it as the elf did as if it were the most precious of gifts. “I am glad to have met you. You may call me Tyelpe. I’m sure we will be great friends!”
“I’m sure we will, Tyelpe,” Sauron said as he left, not bothering to voice the continuation of his thoughts, for the short time until I kill you.