Fall

Kneel AU.  Or is it an AU?  An angel fallen from grace.  If you can even say he was an angel in the first place.  Sauron = Mairon and Morgoth = Melkor.  Basically, this is a piece connecting "Prowl", "Nullibiety", "Kneel" and "Lust" all together into one package centered around our favorite villain from LotR.  Isn't it wonderful?  Takes place in the Years of the Lamps, way back before the Spring of Arda was culled by Morgoth.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion or any other Tolkien works (obviously)

Pairings: none

Characters: Sauron, Morgoth (mentions Eru, other Ainur and Aulë in particular)

Warning: canon-compliant AU, some religious-ish stuff and paraphrasing of Tolkien, torture (semi-explicit) and murder (also semi-explicit), obsession based off a phobia

Song: Hope Vol II

Words: 1,197
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fall (verb): to descend freely by the force of gravity; to drop oneself to a lower position; to drop down wounded or dead; to suffer ruin, defeat, or failure; to commit an immoral act
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/fall

In the beginning of all things, the Ainur were created by Eru Ilúvatar.  Each had their own purpose, their own intimate theme, and they sang together in harmony, weaving their voices as elaborate works of art to please their Father upon his gilded throne in the Timeless Halls.  And the Ainur were flawless beings without true physical form to mar and without knowledge of malice to smear across their purity.

Or so the story went.

But so seldom do plots run their course as planned.

The world was created from the Ilúvatar's great themes, a reflection of the vision that disillusioned those innocent beings, and the Ainur descended upon the Void and wove together the foundations of the earth that they had seen in the climax of their great music.  Brought to bear the great oceans and rivers.  Ripped open the eternal blackness of ever-night and created the wide sky.  Painted upon the ground a thick carpet of green to soothe the feet and crafted great works each of his or her own hand to contribute to the perfect symmetry and beauty of their creation.

Mairon had been one of those Ainur.

Once, he had been an aimless spirit wandering the labyrinth of the Timeless Halls.  He had been bored and floundering under the laxity and languishing.  A creature in need of a purpose left purposeless and lamed with empty hands and an empty existence.

But then there had been the vision.  The sight of something tangible and touchable and breakable.  Something that could be molded.  Something that could allow him to complete his purpose--the task for which he had first been sculpted of the matter of the outer universe.

That was why he had descended with them.  No make something.

Something.  Anything.  If only to shape it in his image of beauty and perfection.

He had helped the Valar create their green world with their two pillars and giant lamps.  Had labored hard and long beneath his master's watchful eye, learning and growing.  Superficially content with his life, because was this not what he had desired?  Was it not this reality that he had lusted after?

But the more time he spent in their paradise, the more he despised it deep within his core.  Like a play scripted to the letter before it even began, time itself unfolded around him, dragging him along with its ebb and flow helplessly.  Mountains were formed in elegant rows, fences of the great forests and plains.  Oceans were planted, and their floors were perfect in shape and curve, creating a shoreline gently sloping in graceful designs.  And Mairon remained the faithful servant Aulë, kindhearted and eager to help those in need of his services.

Ignoring his false reality.  Living in the illusion...

Of perfection.  The Valar were searching for perfection.  And in their searching, everything seemed utterly wrong.  For this place--the place that, in their vision, had been so strange and alive and exotic--it was not this bland disk of predictability.  This world where everything functioned so harmoniously.  With a schedule and a plan.  Without dissonance or disagreement.

But he followed.  Mairon was nothing if not loyal, and he did as his lord and teacher instructed him.  And took pleasure in the learning.  In making beautiful jewelry and trinkets, twisting them to fit his wild imagination.  A mere catharsis for the disquiet in his breast, so that he might turn away from the feigned indoctrination.

Until he had come along.

Melkor, who offered something so radically different.  So strange and unbelievable and wicked.  But something Mairon so greatly desired.

A world where he could do as he pleased whenever he pleased without another's discretion or approval.  A world where lines and shapes were not laid out in perfect patterns, could be altered with the flick of a wrist and a heavily-spoken word.  A world where everything was not set in stone.

A world that he could shape and change to fit his mind's eye.  In any way he wished.

It was that seductive image which led him here.  To the fall.

And what a fall it was.  From the pedestals of hypocrisy to the realm of reality.  So beautiful.  So freeing.  Exhilarating.

Because the world was not perfect.  And Mairon was not perfect.  His resentment of his peers and his masters and their innate idiocy and idealism and egocentricity was unnatural.  His lust for more than what he had been given, anything he could reach out and grasp and hold tightly, was a sin.  And the fleeting moments when he looked up into another's eyes and felt pure malice seep from the very core of his spirit... they were like a curse and a blessing combined.

He was not like them.

Did not mindlessly follow.  Did not let go of what he desired only because supposed morality and harmony stood in his path and told him to cease his efforts.  Did not shy from claiming what he wanted, no matter the cost in morality and ideology.

The first time he held down another and tortured them to the brink of insanity was like bliss upon one's tongue, flowing over and over and over the edges of their chalice until they drowned in a glorious death and were reborn anew.  Mairon felt his blood writhe within his veins with excitement and passion as he listened to the screams, watched the form twisting and speckled in crimson.

As he killed for the first time another being and watched their raiment cease to rise and fall in that never-ending rhythm.  As he stared at their carcass and felt shame and pride war until the bubbling golden feeling of the afterglow arose to blanket his thoughts...

So beautiful, his creations...

None could stand in his way.  He would simply not allow it.  Mairon would claim what was his to take and damn those who decided to stand in his way and tell him he was wrong.  He would have... would take... would relish...

But he wanted more... always wanted more...

Always wanted more power.

More and more and more...

Until it consumed his every waking moment.  It was that which could offer him the path to his greatest desires and wishes.  To the day when the world bent before him, humbled and reshaped and reformed.

And Melkor was the key to the locked door withholding that which he wanted--that power after which he so lusted and longed with wistful abandon.  Thus, Mairon embraced the hidden little part of himself that ever had he kept tucked deep within the shadows--the part that lusted to rend and tear apart all who stood in his path to creating a world in the image of his own design and the part that hungered to escape this cage painted through the air to keep him inside--and smiled coldly in the face of right and wrong.

For what were they when compared to the lingering eternity of suffering in nothingness?
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I'm really, really gone right now.  Can't you tell?  Normally I publish on the day of just to publish, but not today apparently.  I completely forgot.  Granted, I'm rather drugged up at the moment (have a fucking sinus infection that's killing my sleep) and really want to go to bed because it's making me woozy.  So I'll try to be concise, ne~

Basically, it was meant to be Sauron's "fall from grace", so to speak.  Whether he was "contaminated" by Morgoth's theme in the Timeless Halls or however you want to theorize, it just culminated into this thing.  And my head is spinning too much to go into greater detail.

The song is only related because of one line, and if you can't guess which I am questioning your intelligence.  Hope Vol II by Apocalyptica.  I hate the non-vocal version, but the one with the vocals has always been a particular favorite of mine.  And it's suitably minor-ish and creepy and has questionable imagery.  I thought "why not?" and went with it.

And that is all.