(Ilmar, Maldor)

Ortherion tossed his head, shaking his mane about. Pulling at the reins, he tested his master's attention and found it
firmly where it should be, even if the blue-grey eyes were fixed on a point in the distance. His former home. How long
had it been since he'd left? Almost twenty years. It was still a slight pang he wouldn't admit.
Maldor nudged the horse's sides and urged him to walk. The pair covered the grounds of his holding, known only as
The Keep. It wasn't much more than a pile of stones, but one he clung to. Dressed all in black, grey, and tinges of red,
he rode tall in the saddle as they patrolled the southern border, heading toward the river. The lightest breeze picked up
strands of his dark gold hair, as it did strands of black in Ortherion's mane and tail. The horse was about the only soul
he'd ever been kind to since...his childhood. The animal got the best of everything while his servants were mistreated,
and those who happened upon his land even worse.
"We'll water you and head back, my old friend." The voice was surprisingly mellow when he spoke, rich and fluid in
his speech pattern. "I'll let you run the whole way." And if the groom didn't care for the stallion properly... A low hill
led them down toward the water. At the bottom, Maldor slid from the saddle, guiding the big horse by the reins. He'd
refill his own water skin, too, while they were at it.
As he approached, the haunting notes of a sad ballad could be heard floating over the large boulders that dotted the
water's edge. It was a low, clear voice, singing mournfully in elvish in tones that could break the heart as only elves
could do; and, it was a woman's voice.
Ilmar knelt at the water's edge, her knees resting upon a silver cloak, slowly washing the dust from her arms and
face. Her clothes were all in black, but were almost faded in comparison to the black of her long, straight hair, which
even light seemed to avoid. Her skin was pale as moonlight as the removal of the brown road dust revealed. If she
heard anyone approaching, she made no notice, for her dulcet tones never wavered from their song.
The voice... Oh, it gained his attention, and had him leaving Ortherion to graze along the bank. Moving into the shade
of a tree, he went still, and watched.
So...he had a woman on his lands. An Elf, no less. His hand went to his belt, where a whip was coiled and hanging.
But as he went to free it, he stopped, truly listening. The song was so sad, so bleak, even his cold heart skipped. His
mouth turned down. Elvish magic, meant to pull people in and make them slaves. He couldn't let her beauty or her
song draw him in.
"Did you not think twice before trespassing here? Do you not know where you are?" His voice was low, even, and
almost amused as he stepped from the shadow and into the light. Head tilted, one brow raised, he came toward her, a
hand casually laid against the whip.
Instead of leaping up, surprised at the dark, menacing man eying her, the woman continued what she was doing until
she was finished, then she spoke.
"Actually, no I do not know where I am, nor do I really care. There are no dwellings for miles, only a pile of old
ruins." Her voice was low and clear, her words precise, and all with that sense of underlying sadness that seemed to
emanate from her entire being. Then she slowly rose to her feet, shaking the water off her arms with more than a mere
elven grace. Her head finally turned to face him, revealing her delicate, fine features and large, soulful eyes. But it was
those eyes that were her defining feature. No emerald had ever been so bright nor so green as they were, and the
sadness in them as spent tears still lingered made the tune she had sung seem happy.
"Is there a problem with me just washing the dust from my face?"
His head lowered, eyes raised through dark lashes and drawn brows. The voice, low before, was now a growl. "That
pile of old ruins...is MY home, Elf." He had to admit to himself that there was something to be said for her calm, for
the way she didn't flinch when he appeared. "You'd do well to think before insulting the home of another, lest they
decide to insult you back."
But it was seeing her face, full-on, with those eyes that halted him when he began to undo the whip from his belt. The
depth of her pain, the color of those eyes, like rain-soaked gems... He simply stood there. His expression softened, his
eyes almost unfocused, even though he could see her in the sharpest detail.
After a few moments, the look hardened again, and he stalked toward her, reaching out with intention of grabbing for
her hair.
"You'll leave my land immediately, and cease in your insults and trouble, or pay the consequences. I tolerate no one
here, especially Elves."

"So you care not for elves?" Her sultry voice asked him, an eyebrow raised in question. "Then perhaps a human would
be more your taste?" Her beautiful dark features seemed to shimmer for a moment, going slightly out of focus before
solidifying once more into something different. Now, before him stood a human female, with golden hair instead of
black, her features different from before, all but her eyes. Save for those soulful sad eyes, one would have sworn it was
another woman.
It was her good fortune that she chose to shift when she did. He froze, his hand still in the air. The blue-grey eyes
stared. As her form came into focus once more, he blinked, swallowed, and slowly lowered to his knees. "Goddess..."
Whatever she called herself, Elf or human, she was something else entirely, and he knew it now. His hands were held
out, his head lowered. The voice turned soft.
"Forgive me. I foolishly did not recognise you." The pagan had come face to face with the goddess, and did not know
what he should do. His eyes closed, and he waited, sure punishment would come.
"All I've ever done was done for you..."
She shook her head and looked at him with bewilderment, even mild amusement. "Goddess? There are no goddesses
in Arda. I am a Maia, daughter to the Valar Manwe and Varda. My name, is Ilmar. I expect no one to recognise me,
nor even to know who I am. Few care about the Ainur these days. Except the dwarves. They revere their maker, Aule
or Mahal as they call him, as much as he reveres them. Rise and try to be civil for I meant no trespass, nor disrespect,
but merely to quench my thirst and wash the dust from my person."
No goddesses... He knew better. He'd been praying and serving her his entire adult life. He'd given and done all in her
name. But she simply called herself a Maia, and he knew the stories, knew the names she spoke. she was the daughter
of Varda? The Starkindler? No wonder she was so beautiful, so regal.
Rising to his feet, he stood in silence a moment, the gestured toward the hill he'd ridden down. "I can offer you what
you need, lady, at my home. Anything you might need, food, drink, to bathe, to rest... You may have it, and I would
provide it gladly." For this...this was what he'd prayed for all his life. He'd wanted power...and he'd wanted the
'goddess' who could grant it.
"You are very kind, I am sure," she said, taking the smallest of steps back as if something deep inside her were
warning her that this man was not to be trusted. "But all I wanted was to freshen up a little before I resume my walk."
Her bright green eyes darted all around as if in hopes of seeing another person upon this lonely stretch of ground. But
as there were none, she merely smiled and tried to be as gracious as she could. "I am surprised to find a human who
knows of the Valar. You know my mother, Varda, she who hangs the stars, but know you also of my father, Manwe, the
king of the Valar and brother of Melkor?"
"Oh, I know of him." The voice was low as he began to advance. "But it is Melkor I read so much of. The darker ways
are so much stronger. They will withstand anything." Those eyes. Oh, those eyes... He needed to be able to look at
them any time he wanted. "You plan to leave so quickly? Surely you deserve a rest. A good meal, and I can offer you
the best." The dark gold head tilted to one side, as if he meant to lay it to his shoulder. "A bed. I can offer you the most
comfortable of beds to rest." The whip was undone from its tether at his hip, his other hand reaching for her arm.
"Come now, you cannot really want to decline such a selfless offer..."
Those emerald green eyes flashed to the whip in his hand. "Are you threatening me, sir? For I assure you I have been
threatened by far more dangerous than you. Do you think it so easy to intimidate one such as I?" She could, of course,
have disappeared in the blink of an eye at any time she wished, however something intrigued her. Here, in the middle
of absolutely nothing, she had found, not just a ruin of a castle but a human who thought himself equal to the Ainur.
She had wanted to seek adventure and now she had found it; thus, she remained.
"You are not intimidated? Not threatened?" His eyes glittered. "I assure YOU, my lady, I can make you feel
intimidated and threatened." His hand clamped on her arm, and it was no careful grip. The hold was tight, and
intended to leave a mark. His upper lip curled, voice a growl again. "I can make you feel terrified, make you feel pain
unlike anything you've known. Can you feel pain like that?"
At once, his expression softened, as did his voice. "I could make you feel pleasure. Do you like pain and pleasure
together? Or are you the kind to want sweetness? Either way...I think you should accept my offer."
Those eyes once again flashed, this time with anger, as she disappeared from his grip only to appear again a few feet
away. "Silly mortal. You think to threaten me? I who have been lover to Morgoth himself since before your world even
existed?" Here the pain and heartbreak he saw before in her countenance could be heard, even felt, in the tremble of
her voice when she uttered the name of the Dark Lord. "There is nothing you could do, or show me, that would come
near to the things I have done and seen whilst with him. I will accept your 'invitation' merely out of curiosity and
boredom, but I will not be held against my will, nor will I be threatened."

Her disappearing trick widened his eyes in awe and shock. And anger. Anger that pulled a frustrated roar from him.
But the name, Morgoth, shook him to the core. Was she telling the truth? Certainly she had magick of some kind. The
look she wore told of pain, inner pain, and that shook him as well. This, he could not explain.
"You will make some wrong step somewhere, lady, and I'll be the one to put you back in line." His hand was thrown
out, indicating the way he'd come. "My horse is this way. The Keep is not far. Will you ride? Or simply appear there
waiting for me?"
Ilmar watched him closely, amused that this human thought himself so powerful that he could threaten one of the
Ainur. "If it amuses you, I shall ride. But I shall wear my former fana." With this she changed back to her elven
beauty, dark and mysterious, those elven features only serving to enhance the look of pain and unbearable sadness that
she wore.
Anyone could threaten. In the end, it would be about walking the walk. Maldor was sure he could, somehow. There
was always a way.
But nothing had to involve her changing back into an Elf! That made him grind his teeth. He knew she did it for the
amusement of his hatred. Then let her have her fun, though...how could that be with that look in her eyes? One could
swear something inside him cracked a little.
"This way, then." The tone was overly polite. While mounting up, he gave her no option in her seating, as he climbed
up first, then held out a hand. She would ride behind, as far as he was concerned, and know her place with him.
She watched him, not moving from her spot, feeling far more comfortable in her usual fana. The maia knew what he
was doing, and in response she merely folded her arms across her generous chest and waited. "Is that any way to treat
the goddess you supposedly revere?" she asked, the haughtiness in her voice merely to hold back the despair she felt
inside. Ilmar knew full well all she had to do was leave and never have to deal with this mortal again, but she knew
she would only go somewhere else and languish in her misery until even her busy father would notice and force her to
return to Valinor - and that was the last thing she wanted. "I suppose I shall just meet you at the ruins then.. sorry, your
home."
Ortherion tossed his head and pawed impatiently. But Maldor was glaring down at Ilmar. "You should learn to revere
me." He was not going to give in to her. The problem was, there was something in those eyes that made him want to.
Oh, he wanted to. Her insult to his castle only made it worse. It was a staring contest between them until finally he
allowed another sound of anger and dismounted again. "Then by all means, my lady..." He spoke low near her ear. "It
matters not. I'll ride behind you, and you can feel me against you, right at your back." While there was so much
sexuality to his words, it was more a reminder of his presence...and whatever she said, the promise of retaliation if she
did anything to displease him.
Ilmar had to suppress a laugh at the continued obstinacy of this man. He seemed to have no concept whatsoever of
who she was or what she could do. The physical form she wore wasn't even her true one; that was pure energy and
how can anyone especially a mere mortal, threaten something so pure and ethereal? Of course in her elven form she
could still be harmed or even killed, but her energy would merely be reborn and sent to Valinor to start all over again.
In only the most extreme case, as had happened with Morgoth, could one be destroyed, and that was if the power of
the Ainu somehow was depleted to too low a point. And thus it was with Morgoth and he perished from this world,
only enough of him left to perhaps appear at the last great battle of the Ainur, Dagor Dagorath.
Barely keeping a straight face, she climbed aboard the black stallion with such grace it almost appeared she was
flying. As she looked down upon the man, the wind blew her hair and dress back as it did the long black mane of his
own steed and she was a vision, with those bright green eyes that seemed to shine from within like green stars in pale
moonlight framed by the blackness of the heavens. She remained silent as she waited for him to assume his place
behind her, where, to her, he rightly belonged.
In all honesty, for all his prayers, rituals, and solitary meditations, Maldor had no idea what he now faced, the reality
of her. What he saw, he saw with the eyes of a mortal. Take it for what you see, and nothing more. She might be
something of grace and beauty, but immense power and incredible timelessness, but he was just a man. A man with a
jaded view of the world because of misunderstanding and intolerance. He might have been a gentle soul, a warrior
with the heart of a poet, had he not been pushed around and ridiculed one too many times. Being banished to live
alone forever was a harsh sentence on anyone, but at least his forever wasn't as long as others'.
The wind caught at his black cloak to send it flying behind him, waving and falling. He paid no attention to its pull at
his neck. His attention was only for her. Only for her and those eyes he stared into. His expression softened until his
lips parted as though he wished to speak...but he'd have had no voice to do so.

At last, he shook himself free of her hold, and mounted up behind her, reaching past her slim waist for the reins on
one side, free hand on his other leg. "Ortherion, home." The words were short, and he was silent after that on the ride
back to the ruin he called home.
As they approached what looked like a mere pile of stones from below, Ilmar could see that there was far more of the
old battlements left than she had first believed. "I imagine this was quite some fortress once upon a time. What
happened to it, if I may ask?" She spoke to him over her shoulder as they drew near, following what must have been a
proper road many years ago, but was now no more than a dirt path.
Despite the sad state it appeared to be from outside, The Keep was actually far stronger than one might think. Inside, it
was stark, lavish only in the places its master thought it needed to be. Outside...it could have been brought back to
glory if he'd spent his meager fortune on repairs instead of on his own luxuries, and the needs of his craft.
"To be honest, I do not know." He'd never heard the story of the castle from anyone in the vicinity, though there were
few people, and fewer who would speak to him. Some had daughters missing, not seen for a few years. Some had
simply seen him as an outsider, and would never have accepted him no matter his treatment of others. "It was like this
when I came here. Or, rather close to it." Since it had been almost twenty years.
He brought Ortherion to a halt by the rear door of the place and slid to the ground. His eyes were raised through dark
lashes as he offered a hand to her, should she want it. He would play the gentleman this time, but it would be the last.
"Welcome to my home, lady, humble though it is."
Ilmar was surprised that he knew nothing of his own home's background and wondered if he had just 'taken' it from
someone else or merely claimed the half-destroyed remains for himself. Either way, it was where she was going to be
spending the night, it looked like. She decided perhaps she would play along for now, so as he offered his hand, she
took it and slid effortlessly to the ground as if she weighed nothing.
"Thank you.. you know, I do believe you have not given me your name." She looked at him questioningly, her
penetrating green eyes fixed intently upon his.
Indeed, one of her ideas was correct. The place had been empty on his arrival, a young man with no home, no money,
and no one to look to. The story of his life since then was dark and sad...and tinged with a sort of madness that might
not have been had he ever had kindness.
It was difficult not to touch her, to only offer his hand instead of taking her by the waist. No, she didn't need his aid
anyway. He refused to let go of her hand, his look almost utterly normal, knightly. He hadn't thought to give her his
name. Did it matter?
"I am Maldor. My...mother thought it amusing to give me an Elvish name. Why, I'll never know. Shall we go in?" A
groom would look after the horse, or else pay the price for not seeing properly to the one living soul he cared about. He
guided her to the great wooden door, hauling on the ring of a handle until it opened and allowed them in...into dim
light and almost barren surroundings. "This way."
On they went, as he was taking her into the dining room. The first available place with chairs for her to sit. The table
was polished black, as were the chairs, with their grey cushions. "If you need anything, I will call for it. Unless you'd
prefer I...humbly step away and give you space." This was spoken in a sarcastic tone, his lips almost curled in a smile.
The maia of starlight followed him through the spartan surroundings, studying him as they walked. He seemed to her
to be almost two different people battling inside one body. For the most part, he seemed to want to be a cruel, evil
dictator of a man, but every now and then, he would seem almost normal, genteel even. He obviously knew how to
treat a person well, he just chose not to do so. What the reasons were she could only guess, but she could see great pain
behind his eyes too.
"Land of Gold," she said, translating his name in Sindarin. In the common tongue it would be Orlando.. or something
like that." When they entered the dining hall, she looked around at the black furnishings and felt a slight pang in her
heart. Morgoth had been fond of black and their private quarters in Angband had been fitted out in black. Ilmar
swallowed and slowly took a seat. "I need nothing, thank you. You have done well in refurbishing this place," she
observed, ignoring his sarcastic remark.
She was observant, and saw far more than anyone else ever had. For years, he'd simply done as he pleased. And he
was pleased to treat others as he'd been treated. It only seemed fair to him. Her voice caught him, and he turned wide
eyes on her. Land of Gold...and yet he'd ended up with nothing, in a land overseen by a king who'd been nothing more
than a Ranger. Of all the embarrassing ideas.

"Yes, well... She was in love with all things Elven. And so, here I am." With an Elvish name. Oh, the sound suited
him, but the origin...
Sinking into the chair at the head of the table, he watched her. Something bothered her.
"It's too dark for you." Leaning back, he lounged in the chair, leaning against the arm. "And...it strikes something
inside you." These words were spoken slowly, carefully, and with meaning. A flickering of movement to one side
caught him. Jenlo, his head servant, waiting patiently for his orders.
"Wine. Good wine, do not bring me something cheap when there's a lady here. And food. Something light." When
they were alone, his attention was on her.
"Why do you look like that? Like you see death everywhere you look...?"
She may have been a maia and she may have been powerful, but Ilmar could not hold back the tears that were
prompted by Maldor's uncannily apt words.
"Because a part of me has died, and yet I still carry it within me." Her emerald eyes closed, releasing a cascade of tears
that fell upon her jet black dress and glistened there in the flickering candlelight like stars in a winter's sky. "This...
place... it just reminds me..." Her voice trailed off as if any more words would wound her beyond salvation.
He didn't know what to do. Crying women were not something he was comfortable with. For a moment or two, he sat
and stared, until Jenlo appeared and then he was waving the older man off.
When all was quiet and private again, he poured the wine into the cups and took one in hand, easing from his chair
onto a knee on the floor before her.
"Here. Drink this." His tone was commanding, but delivered gently. The cup was held up, but he was not intending to
put it into her hands until she was already swallowing from it. "C'mon, Ilmar." His eyes on her face...that beautiful
face despite her current form...he sighed. "Perhaps coming back here was not the best idea."
Deep down, he was searching for the approval he'd never gotten. The chance to show someone he was worth their
time, and to prove himself. That was what fueled his careful treatment of her now. That, and something more which
even he couldn't understand.
Her eyes opened again, two emeralds swimming in starlight as the tears made them shimmer even more brightly.
"No, no, I am sorry for that. Sometimes it just overwhelms me, but it is getting better. The first few years after ... " She
felt her words catch in her throat and accepted the drink from the cup, her hands on either side though he was actually
controlling it. "After he passed and our bond was broken, I could do nothing but. At least now I can go a few days
sometimes without too many tears. But.. " she looked down into his eyes. "... but I never shed them around others,
besides my family. I do apologise and thank you for your understanding." This last bit was delivered with msot of her
dignified composure restored.
Had he ever thought it possible to know this woman and bring her to think decently of him, that would be out the
window now. The fact she cried for a lover lost years ago, and sobbed as if he'd died only days ago said she would be
out of reach for anyone, even with those eyes, with that form, with her queenly bearing. When her eyes met his, he felt
his heart skip. Why, he couldn't say.
"You've no need to apologise. We've all had some loss in our time." It was all he could think of. He seemed almost
dismissed, and so he rose, moving back into his chair. And felt...alone. the cup would be left with her as he took his
own and drank down more than half the contents.
"I would ask you if you wish to speak of it, but I feel I am not one you would trust the story to. I am not exactly the
kind of man women feel they can confide in." When he usually threatened them, talked down to them, tortured them,
and abused them.
But this one... This one was making an impression on him.
Ever perceptive, and of course humans are easy enough to read, Ilmar could feel his sense of being rejected and she
frowned.
"Please, it is difficult for me, yes, but I find the more I speak of it, the less it hurts. I just do not wish to burden anyone
else with my sorrows. I know it must seem silly to mourn for so long, but when you are bonded with someone by Eru

Iluvatar himself for longer than this world has existed... it takes a little time. And to me, a century is but a second,
whilst to you it is a lifetime. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the current wave of despair fading
thankfully.
"If speaking helps, then speak. If it helps to just breathe, then do that. I will not stop you." He did not enjoy feeling
like this, and he knew he was about to speak when he shouldn't, make himself vulnerable. "I have never known love. I
have never had someone to bond with and build a life with. So, burden me. Tell me whatever you will, if it will help
you." His eyes slid off away from her, his voice lowering.
"I do not understand, Ilmar. I believe it is your power, for I'm drawn to you. Your eyes, your voice, the way you speak
and carry yourself. I do not enjoy feeling what I feel now, knowing I will eventually be mocked for such weakness." He
scoffed lightly. "I will mock myself. But it is said."
With careless movements, he refilled his cup and sat back again, his eyes always away from her, to avoid those
emerald-coloured eyes he was captivated by.
But Ilmar just shook her head.
"No, I will not burden you. He is gone and I must move on. I hardly knew him towards the end anyway. I think the
darkness stole away all that we ever truly were and banished our love forever. I do not even know why I still mourn."
With that she seemed to have made a decision, a resolve to dwell on it no more and this man could very well prove to
be the distraction she needed to do so.
"As for my power, I do not really understand. I have the ability to do some things that mortals and even elves do not,
but I am not powerful, not as far as Ainur go. I am but a Maia and my abilities are limited, but power I have none and
even if I did I would never use it for bad." She sipped her wine, staring into the cup then at her host. "I do not think
you are weak. A touch arrogant and naive maybe, but never weak. That much I can tell."
Though it could be taken as a lack of caring and even rudeness, he lifted a shoulder in a shrug. What was he to say?
He knew nothing of romantic love, nor even nothing of familial love. It had never been there. Her tears were shed over
something completely beyond his understanding. and if the person had come to be someone she didn't feel she knew
anymore, then why hold on? It made no sense, and Maldor wasn't about to try and piece it together now. It wasn't his
problem.
But she was.
"Your abilities are quite intriguing, even when you look like this." That Elvish form. It bothered him that he found her
attractive like this. Her golden human form was beautiful as well, and that would have been fine, but this...this did not
sit well with him.
His head snapped over with his eyes on her, and he found her looking at him. "Naive? Arrogant, maybe. And I have
good reason for that. I know who and what I am. I know what I can do. Why not be proud?" Cup on the table, he stood
up. "This place is mine. I claimed it, I made it what it is now, and believe me, my lady...you've not seen the half of it."
Leaning on the table, he looked at her. "The temple is mine, and I preside within it. I have good reason to be arrogant.
But naive?" The blond head tilted. "My lady, you wound me."
Ilmar seemed nonplussed by his little tirade. "Not naive in all things, Maldor. Just in some, especially in thinking you
could control me in the least. You have absolutely no concept of who or what I am or the limits of your mortal soul.
And what's wrong with the way I look? This is the fana I feel most comfortable in. I have others but I guarantee there
are some you would not wish to see."
"Oh, anyone can be controlled. Anyone. Are you not still controlled by the emotion he put in you? Which leads you to
remain controlled by him, even if he's gone." He shouldn't have said it. He knew he shouldn't, but it was said with
more guts and...balls...than he should have dared. As for her form...
He eased into his chair, leaning back with his legs splayed wide. "Elves are a useless race. Caught up in themselves
and the belief they are chosen, favoured. They care little for others and show little interest in the world beyond their
forests and valleys. The rest of us are left to fend for ourselves, fighting the world, while they revel in art and music as
if nothing happens out here." Here, he chuckled.
"Oh, my dear Ilmar... There are sides of me you'd not wish to see, either. You'd wish for death were you to meet with
those shadows."
"An interesting view on things, to be sure. But since I entered into our bond willingly, I do not see it as control. It is
my own reluctance to let go of the last shreds of what had been my life for so long that keeps me bound, not him. Not
the love we had. Love does not bind, it sets you free. A contradiction in terms you say? But it is true. You have

obviously never been in love or you would understand."

She drainef the rest of her wine in one go, setting the cup upon the table. "As for the elves, part of what you say is
true. But men are so short lived they fail to see the bigger picture. Elves have been protectors of this world since they
first awoke. They are the ones who have fought off the really terrible horrors, and, I will admit, caused some of them
too, such as Feanor and his Silmarils. But who was it gave his life to battle Morgoth? An elf king. Who defeated a
Balrog of Morgoth? Glorfindel and lost his own life in the process. You need to brush up on your history before you go
condemning an entire race who has done nothing but protect this pile of rocks so that you could come and claim it as
your own." She rose to her feet as if to leave. "And as for shadows, they are old friends of mine," she all but hissed,
her rile clearly up.
Maldor actually started to laugh. "Oh-ho-ho!! So she comes to life! Standing there in her oh so regal glory to tell me
who I should be grateful to, who I should bow to. Yet, who would never come to the aid of someone like me." There he
sat, blue-grey eyes raised to her. "Not that they would want to, as I am not of their...light." his hand waved,
dismissively. If she wanted to leave, so be it. But he would be right behind her.
Imagine such power within the confines of the temple. Maldor...think of it! Think of her grace, beauty, and sheer
POWER, and all in the name of She who creates and guides. Think of it. Think of it..
Slowly, he rose. "I think...you should stay, my dear. I really do." Voice low, hand out toward her throat, he stepped
forward.
"Do not presume to judge me, human. How do you know I would not come to your aid? If someone needs help, and
they are worthy, I help them."
She laughed as he approached her, hand outstretched, but she did not move, merely fixed him curiously with her
emerald green eyes. "Tell me something, Maldor. How do you capture starlight?" With that she shimmered and faded
until she was barely visible, his hand passing right through.
"If they're worthy..." These words hung on him, and were the defining part of the whole conversation. That was why
Elves were not to his liking. Yet, who was worthy in their eyes? Who? Certainly not the banished and forgotten master
of a tumbling down castle who prayed to a goddess who never answered, never appeared.
And when he believed she had, she turned out to be yet one more of Middle-earth's beings who would toy with those
who were lesser.
His hand went through her, and he stared. Slowly, so slowly, his expression changed. It crumbled, fading from
confident to stunned, from angry to lost.
'Maldor, your mother thought you would be something great. You're worthless! She'd be so disappointed...'
'Maldor, what is wrong with you?! Can't you pay attention and do your work instead of daydreaming about some
made-up goddess?'
'Maldor, you're just not fighting material. You're good, but we need someone with a...military mind.'
Never enough. Never right.
His hand dropped. "Alright, then. Play your games. I've no more time to play along. If you feel so inclined to remain,
you are welcome. The door is unlocked, though. I do not seek to hold you here."
That said, he turned for the stairway just off one side of the room. At the top was his private chamber, a room set up
for watching the stars, plotting his rituals, and reading through the volumes he'd written himself about his beloved
goddess.
Though she was but a ghost of her physical form, Ilmar could still see and hear him perfectly. She watched as his
expression transformed from one to another and then to the last. She stood perfectly still, as he spoke, then as he
turned and walked away, she disappeared completely with a small whoosh of air, only to appear in his rooms to await
him, now back to solidity.
She was the last thing he ever expected to come across, and almost every aspect of her was maddening. From her way
of thinking, to her way of keeping a firm handle on a situation, to just her physical form.
Her eyes got to him more than anything.
As he stalked up the stairs, his look hardened again. He wanted to hold her down and show her he was no weakling.
Let her be caged and forced to remain instead of fading into nothingness so she could reappear in safety elsewhere. Let
her be forced to see the sheer intensity of the elements as he commanded the rituals with utter power. She would see

all he was, and all that no one else had ever been able to see.
She was the last thing he ever expected to be waiting when he threw open the door of the chamber and stepped in.
He'd pulled his cloak from his shoulders, flipped it over the back of a small chair, and reached for his robe, something
made of some silken material...and stopped. There she was.
"Anything to torment me."
He spoke the words in a small voice, whatever his expression, and shook his head. He left the robe where it lay, hands
on his hips. "Well, make yourself at home, then."
And then she laughed. It was a genuine laugh, all trace of her sadness having been pushed aside for that brief moment
as the smile lit her face and her eyes.
"Am I being a bad houseguest, my dear Maldor?" Her voice was now light and almost playful as it seemed that she
had finally managed to shake the gloom from her countenance. It was probably only temporary, but for now she had
found something to take her mind off her own misery.
"I can go if you wish..." She made a move towards the door, but it also meant a move towards him, her eyes fixed upon
his.
A man would have to be purely mad not to enjoy the sound of her laugh. He simply stared at her. She was an
enticement, and he hated that. It was a distraction. But at the same time, it reached deep within and woke all kinds of
primitive ideas in him. Most of which she would never agree to.
It was almost amusing. Almost.
"No." He spoke probably too hastily, making himself sound desperate for company. Though, he was. "There's no need.
I did say you were welcome here." He wanted to move, had intended to reach for that robe and do precisely as he'd
planned before she ever showed up in his day, but he could do no more than let his hands drop. He couldn't pull his
gaze from hers. His name, spoken in her voice, rang in his head, and those brilliant green eyes seemed to see right
through him, right into his soul.
He swallowed hard, felt his eyes sting. His vision blurred, and still he could see her eyes staring.
The maia stopped, her eyes never wavering nor her resolve. "Are you all right?" her voice was laced now with genuine
concern. "Only you do not look so good. Perhaps you should sit down, have a drink, um, do something?" Ilmar placed
a gentle pale hand upon his arm hoping to guide him over to sit down in a chair or the bed, wherever. Her eyes darted
around the lavishly furnished room for a carafe of water, or wine even from where she could pour him something to
drink.
Did she really sound that way...for him? Was she really concerned for him? He let her direct him, fell into the highbacked, red-cushioned chair near. Despite the fact a full carafe of wine sat on the table where he worked, he waved
away the suggestion, instead grasping for her arm. Not to hold her down, or captive, but to keep her from walking
away.
His eyes red with the tears he refused to shed, tears that tried to clear, he rasped one word. "Why?" Dark brows drawn,
his expression lost, he shook his head. "Why can I never pull away when you look at me like that?"
After seeing him safely seated, Ilmar pulls a footstool over to sit upon just in front of him. His face had indeed gone
ashen and it worried her in its suddenness.
"Look at you like what?" her green orbs questioned him with their frustrating wide, simple innocence. "I merely was
concerned that you might be ill. I know humans are quite sturdy, but also quite delicate at times, prone to the slightest
of ailments. I hope it is not one of those ailments.
"Like that." Part of him actually wanted to claw at the chair, climb it. The rest of him was pulled in, so drawn, and so
lost in her emerald gaze. It was a great effort, but he shook himself from the trance, blinked hard.
"I think I am ill. But it is nothing physical. I think perhaps I've finally lost what sanity I've clung to for so long..."
At last the maia looked away, no longer penetrating him with her gaze.
"If my presence disturbs you, I can go and trouble you no more..."
She made this offer in true sincerity, though she knew full well he would not want to accept it. There was something
about him that intrigued her, even if he was a mortal. She had loved a mortal before, when Morgoth had thrown her
out of Angband. Aren had been a poor, emaciated widower with a small child to raise. Ilmar had watched him from

afar then come to his rescue when bandits tried to take what little he possessed - his wagon, horse and all he owned in
the world. She had seen them off and recovered his things, winning his gratitude... and his heart. Even the little girl
who had not spoken since her mother died had come to love her and call her Mama.
But then Morgoth had gotten wind and, insanely jealous, threatened them if Ilmar did not return. Faced with the
difficult choice, she chose the lives of the humans and returned to Angband, only to find fresh human hearts strewn
upon her doorstep... and Aren was never heard from or seen again.
And to now find a human who had no experience of love intrigued her and she almost considered it a challenge. So, as
she stood there awaiting Maldor's response, she thought of Aren and how, for a brief time at least, he had indeed been
happy.
Her presence was disturbing, but it was a disturbance he'd needed for a very long time. Perhaps all his life. She was
nothing common, nothing to be labeled 'usual'. She was completely unlike anything and anyone he'd ever met, and
that made him want her to stay.
His fingers shaking, he gently took her chin to turn her face to his. "I do not wish you to leave. I wish you to stay, but I
will not hold you. I was wrong to attempt to do so earlier." It was as close to an apology as he could get, and closer
than he'd ever gotten before.
"It is your eyes." He found his voice softer than before. "I have never seen their like, and they are beyond beautiful."
Standing this close, he could easily kiss her. He wanted to, but didn't.
"Sit here, and I will pull the smaller chair over. But talk to me and tell me of this...love."
She gave him a half smile as she took the chair offered. She had known he would not let her go.
"Now that was a far better invitation than threats do you not think so? One catches far more flies with honey than
vinegar, dear Maldor. That includes maiar I believe." She gave another light laugh and gave him those eyes again.
"Tell you of love? That is like asking me to show you what scent means, or how to feel colour."
His head tipped as he eased into the much smaller chair, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. The look he
wore clearly stated he did not find her words amusing, even if he knew them to be truth. He could nothing but stare,
caught up in her laugh, her eyes.
"But the experience... I have heard before it is something indescribable. But why be so attached to another person that
it leaves you shattered when it ends? It seems so pointless."
Ilmar thought about this for a moment. "Why live your life if it will only end in death?" she asked, her eyes reading
him; his posture, his movements, the expression on his face and the tone behind his words. "Why do we make music
or paint, or build empires that we know will only one day crumble into ruin? Why do some smoke pipeweed or enjoy
their favourite meal when it will only be gone as soon as it's consumed? Because of how it makes us feel. There is no
other feeling in life like the feeling of being in love and being loved in return. There just are no words to describe it.
You have to feel it for yourself." Her voice was soft and not condescending in the least, but spoken from experience
and the heart.
Living your life wasn't a choice. You simply had to do it. Oh, some ended it themselves, but Maldor wasn't one of
those types. You lived until it was done. Period. And in the end, there was the veil to cross, the goddess to await you,
and another whole world to live in. It was only a transition.
"You become ruled by an emotion. Something that will steal your common sense, your ability to make logical
decisions, sometimes even your ability to preserve your life. Why put yourself in that position? Love, whether it is from
family or a lover, is a kind of death. A death of yourself as an individual. You are left open to being shattered by
someone else...for no reason."
He could understand the concept of a meal, a fine wine, a ritual that left you cleansed inside. He could understand that.
The enjoyment, the contentment left in the end. But love? Love was trouble, hurt, and sorrow. Love was being pulled
down be someone else for their amusement. You were under their control. You belonged to them. Family would tear
you down. Lovers would leave you.
He spoke his opinion and questions all in a tone completely without sneer or ridicule. They were spoken with real
curiosity...and a hint of his own sad past.
"Why do that to yourself?"
Again she smiled - the smile of one who knows the true meaning of love.

"Because love is the only thing worth living or fighting for. It is not a death but a rebirth. To love and be loved is a
freedom of the soul, of the heart, of the mind. Your view on something you say you know nothing of seems awfully
bleak. If you think it so horrible, then why are you not happy?" Her eyes looked to him expectantly.
Her smile was radiant. It was the kind of smile everyone should be able to wear. It was the kind of smile that showed
some sort of inner peace, some kind of secret that warmed the soul.
It made him question himself. And that didn't sit well.
Pushing up from the chair, he laughed. "It seems bleak because it is. Love offers nothing but chains and slavery." But
when he went quiet again, he leaned against the worktable that clung to the wall of half the room, stared out one large
window, only to finally turn to her again, voice soft.
"They speak of family, and how blood is thicker than water. Family must always cling to each other and never break.
But the love of family is a lie. You speak of love being a rebirth, and yet with its loss, you've been shattered. You
appear so strong, and yet you allowed a stranger to see your private tears." His voice hardened, though remained low.
"All we ever have is ourselves."

The maia watched him, his body language telling her more than his words ever could. The more time she spent in his
presence, the more intrigued she became and the more she felt his pain.
"Families are odd creatures. My own father hardly pays me any attention yet panders to the whims of the elves as if
their personal slave." The bitterness in her voice is so thick you could cut it. "But I know he loves me because he is my
father. Family love is a different creature altogether. In fact, there are many kinds of love, including the kind you have
for a pet or faithful animal." She watched him closely, having observed how fond he was of his horse. "And as for my
being shattered... it's not a control that an even dead Melkor holds over me..."
She paused to think. "It's more of a validation of the love we shared... a tribute to something beautiful that is now
gone, for I feel that if I moved on as if nothing happened, as I knew I could, it would have all meant nothing. In a way
it's my own choice to wallow in that love a while longer through my tears. And to let a stranger see those tears... that
was my choice, for perhaps I felt the stranger needed to see someone else in pain."
His look became one of confusion. "He loves you because he is your father? What lies we tell ourselves." His face was
turned toward the window, a dark smile on his lips.
"My father had one child. Me. From the moment my mother died, he wanted nothing more than to see me gone.
Nothing I did was right, was good enough for his high standards." And those standards had only been set so high for
him, no one else. An impossible reach for a boy so young. "He pushed and pushed, until I'd lost all hope of winning
his approval. No one else gave me a chance. So I took my own. And they didn't like it. So..." He'd been sent from the
city, with only what was on his back.
He said nothing of her explanation of her tears. there was nothing he could say.
"I have seen others in pain!" He suddenly snarled at her, eyes blazing. "I've caused that pain and reveled in it. I
listened to their screams and pleas and ignored them all. I ended their miserable lives!" Just as quickly, it was all gone,
leaving him standing there shaking, like a lost child.
"Your pain was different, Ilmar. I was untouched by the others, but not by you. It's part of your magic, isn't it? To
make me feel that. But why? what do you get from it?"
Her eyes narrowed at his mention of causing pain. That was the last thing she would ever do. Even in all her centuries
with Morgoth, she never got used to it, never became a part of it and prevented it when she could even at the expense
of her own safety. Suddenly she realised maybe that was why Eru bonded them? Maybe she had been a buffer between
Morgoth and the world? Just how much more horror would he have inflicted had she not been there to calm his anger
or offer herself instead?
She sighed heavily before she spoke. "There is no magic, Maldor. Only truth. If you feel something it is an honest
feeling. I have done nothing but accept your hospitality and answer your questions as best as I know how." She said
nothing more of fathers who, no matter how uncaring they seem, thing they're doing the right thing by pushing their
children. Of course they are wrong, but it is still their own form of love as they see it.
His practices had turned darker over the years. In the beginning, he'd simply sought something to place his trust in,
something to find comfort in. Over time, he'd begun dipping into darker rituals, more dangerous deviations from his
original craft. And more pain. Local men had disappeared, lost in the shadows of his dungeons. A few were still there,
now only bones. Local girls went missing, some used for his own pleasures before meeting their end in dark rites

meant to honor the goddess he believed in. It had simply become part of his life, very matter of fact, very much like an
occupation, rather than a faith.
"Why would I feel anything for you?" Again, his question lacked malice, was asked honestly. "I don't know you, I
know nothing of you save what you've told me." He returned to the chair and sat heavily. "I have seen pain. I have
known pain. But yours..." He knew every ounce of his inner conflict would show on his face, and that disturbed him. It
disturbed him even more to know she wouldn't judge him for it.
"I know, when I go to sleep, I'll see it again. You, in tears."
Ilmar sighed and dropped her head, her eyes no longer upon him. It saddened her to know that she had caused him
any distress, even if he was not the nicest person in the world. The conflict she could see upon his face, quite frankly,
baffled her. The way he had been with her and what he had said he'd done didn't seem to indicate that he would be the
kind to be troubled by a strange lady's tears - even if she was his supposed 'goddess'. "I am so sorry to have caused you
such trouble. I.. I should go."
"Why do you keep trying to leave?" He almost sounded like a petulant child. But the fact she kept suggesting she leave
made him want to stand up and yell in her face. Why had she even come up here if she wanted to simply turn back
around and walk out again?
His head lowered, eyes closed. "I said I would not hold you here. I am troubled by you, but maybe I deserve it. Or need
it. I am curious about why I feel it."
Help me. Help me figure this out.
He wouldn't ask. Couldn't. He was as confused as she was. It was as if two different people lived inside him, and he no
longer knew which one was which. The one who had been all this time, or the one who might have been?
"I'll ask no more questions. It seems I find the ones without true answers."
She considered her answer carefully, resisting the urge to go over to him and offer comfort, for she knew he would
only turn her away with a scoff.
"I want to leave because I am causing you conflict within yourself and I never wanted to do that. Causing pain or grief
or anything negative is the last thing I ever want to do. Morgoth was the the one that did that. He was the dark. I was
the light. Neither can exist without the other. And now I've lost my darkness. And it seems you've lost your light, if
you ever had it." She looked at him and moved closer, crouching before him, hands now upon his knees. "I want to
stay, however, because I want to help undo the confusion I have caused, and you never know, perhaps help you find
your light."
He would have done exactly what she expected, but only out of reflex. All these years, this was how he was supposed
to be. This was who he was. But even he wondered how she could be with someone labelled evil, someone who did the
things he himself had done. Could a person like that even love? And even if they could, how could anyone trust them
when they said no harm would come?

She came to him as he had with her, and he stayed so very still. Any other and he'd have forced his command on her,
his power over her. Not Ilmar. She'd find a very lost expression on his face, something almost broken. Almost, but
never completely. His hands moved to cover hers, remained simply there, with no actual grasp on her.
"Then stay." Maybe...I can help you, too. "Come and go as you please, but you are welcome to stay as long as you want
or need."
She looked down at his hands over hers. His felt almost cold against hers, but it felt good to have some kind of living
contact once more.
"Maybe, just maybe you can," she found herself saying with a nod. Then she looked up into his eyes and smiles softly.
It was a smile that held no malice, no judgement, only kindness and compassion. Ilmar was the daughter of the King
and Queen of the Ainur, Eru Iluvatar himself's emissary to the rest of Arda. She was pure and good and always would
be. Even the evil of Morgoth could not change her, but only made her shine brighter. As she had said, there can be no
light without the darkness, nor true darkness without the light. They need each other to exist and always would.
She was warm, so different from the coldness he always seemed to feel. Would her influence change that in him? He
would have to wait and see.

In some other lifetime, he might have been as good as she, or almost. He might have been one of the men who fought
bravely for his people, who honored the rulers, who kept the names of the past shining bright for the future. If he was
not of true darkness, her presence would do one of two things: Either heal the hurt in him and let him be the man he
could have been, or bring him to darkness in a way he'd never imagined.
He didn't know which he feared more.
He couldn't return her smile, only because he didn't seem to know how, but he learned one thing then. He understood
her eyes. The light in her was strong, so strong, and part of him was open to the possibility that he belonged in the
light, too. That was what disturbed him, not her eyes, but what he saw of himself in them.
"The only chamber furnished now is my own. I will give it to you, though I doubt the style will suit you." He'd have a
bed brought in here for himself. He would need to be close to his work anyway. Something told him he was going to
need a lot of faith for this.
She watched him closely, almost as if she could see the gears turning in his mind as he pondered everything within.
"No, I wll not take your own bed from you. A sofa or even a pallet on the floor will do for me, please," she insisted, her
hands still upon his knees, his hands over hers.
"Either take the offer, or else share it with me." He spoke the words, which would have been meant in honesty to
anyone else, but gave the ghost of a smile. He took her hands now, careful as though afraid he'd crush them. "Say it is
part of the search for my light. That I do this one good thing."
She rose fluidly to her feet, her hands still within his, and smiled down upon him. "All right. I will accept your
gracious hospitality. But just this night." Her smile was warm like sunshine on a cool day and her eyes had lost most of
their sadness, at least for now. As she had said, it was not all the time that she felt that way, just now and then and
usually when she was alone.
Rising, he shook his head lightly. "I will find a way to make you say that every day." Her smile made him wish he
could make the same expression with as much warmth and feeling. He just...never had. "I will stay here, close to the
utensils and tools of my work." Indeed, that table was lined along the wall with bottles of stored dry herbs, more were
hung by the windows. Books were stacked here and there, with one or two open, including a large one on a stand
under an opening in the ceiling filled in with glass. A small mirror stood in place, with a dagger and chalice, a bowl of
salt and one of water, and a lovely figure carved from stone. His goddess' image.
"Let me show you where you will stay, so you can find the room later."
She had observed all the objects in the room before, wondering what they were all for, but had chosen not to say
anything. Her smile increased slightly as he seemed almost kind now, and she found it encouraging. "All right, do lead
on please."
He kept a hold on one hand, bringing her along as he left the room and started down the stairs. At one interval, he
stopped at a landing and turned right down a hallway lit only with a few torches. There were no windows.
"In here." He opened the only door at the end of the hall, revealing a room all in shades of silver, grey, and black. The
windows, which were only two, were covered with black curtains. The chairs were black lacquered wood with silvergrey cushions. The fireplace was huge, flanked by eagles. There was a great table, two chairs set with it, a huge
wardrobe, and two smaller tables on either side of the bed. The bed was massive. It had great posts, was draped with
silver material and a black comforter, and had a headboard with shackles attached to it.
"Those are not for you." His hand released hers as he took a step in. "You may open the windows as you like. And
there is a bathing chamber if you follow this same hall in the opposite direction." All she had seen was all he'd
renovated of The Keep, aside from the temple. All else had been spent on his own wants and needs, or his horse.
Turning to her, he lifted a shoulder. "I've no secrets, so wander as you like. You will not like all you see, so be
forewarned. There is one rule. Do not interfere in what I do. Do that, and you will learn the reality of pain."
She followed him and looked around as he explained about his room. Suddenly Ilmar felt strange. She hugged herself
and stared at the shackles on the bed, and shivered. "Perhaps it would be better if you stayed here with me... " she said
quietly, unable to shake the feeling of unease that had come over her.
For a moment, he almost went to her, almost reached out to comfort her and reassure her. Instead, he simply looked at
her, his expression calm but empty. Did he not say his toys were not meant for her? Did he not say she'd not like all
she saw? That should have been enough.
Another moment passed where he considered such a beautiful creature in his bed. It had been a while since he'd had a

woman. But that moment, too, passed without voice or action. It was left to disappear as if it had never been.
The look remained, and he simply nodded. "As you wish." As he'd not allow himself to comfort her, and he could
think of nothing to say to do the same, he turned his head just a little. "I've not eaten in several hours. Will you join
me?"
But it wasn't that that bothered her. Melkor had surrounded her with far worse. This little human couldn't possibly
imagine all the horrors she'd seen in Angband and even Utumno before it was destroyed. She had witnessed the
making of the orcs from kidnapped elves, captured as they ran, frightened by the evil spirits he had sent to spy on
them. These he had tortured and mutilated beyond recognition then forced them to breed and thus created his orcs:
beings he could easily control and manipulate into doing his bidding. Ilmar had not stood beside him idly, but helped
many to escape and when she was discovered, suffered his wrath first hand. That had been the beginning of his
forgetting their bond and the love they had shared. The beginning of the end that would lead him to imprisonment in
chains in the void, and eventually his loss of power and demise.
No, this was something different, something evil but at the same time familiar, and it frightened her. She just did not
wish to be alone in this place for there was great evil here, probably far more than even Maldor knew.
His offer of a meal was more than inviting and helped to dissipate the pall that seemed to have fallen over her.
"Yes, that would be nice, thank you," she said almost hurriedly, grateful for the diversion.
Indeed it was possible something lurked within the confines of The Keep that Maldor wasn't aware of. He'd long
focused on his own supposed darkness, never concerned with anything else. He'd been obsessive about it, lingering
over the pages of the black books he'd collected, the Book Of Shadows he'd written in a careful hand--the book which
stood open on the stand in the tower room. He'd collected his tools, knives and crystals, herbs and mirrors. He would
never tell anyone that the scrying mirror had never shown him anything.
Within the last ten years, he'd begun taking lives, torturing men and women for his own curiosity. One had been
starved just so Maldor could see the reaction the body had on its deprivation of food. Another, he'd disemboweled
before the man's eyes. He'd hung from his shackles on the wall, screaming, watching his intestines fall to the floor,
seconds before his heart stopped.
Those skeletons were still in the dungeons.
Girls had been sacrificed in the temple. Their blood was meant for cleansing, to purify the altar, the temple, and the
ritual itself. As they bled out from a wound in their neck, he satisfied his lust, watching them die as ecstasy overcame
him.
But all this was not of the mind of some madman born to darkness. Maldor could have been different. The sad events
of his life led him here, and this was what kept him from seeing the bigger picture, the possible rank evil that lurked.
He offered his hand, and took her back to the dining room. The table was already set, and once they were seated, Jenlo
would see to the meal. Maldor poured the wine, as before, and sat back in his chair.
"You'll trust me enough to sleep in the same room with me?" In the same bed, possibly? He'd not say he was
considering making a place for himself elsewhere in the room. That kind of consideration was not to be mentioned.
Ilmar let him take her hand and guide her through back to the dining room, though she did not need any help for she
knew where everything was and how to get there. It was one of the special abilities as a maia that she had; a sort of
instant spacial awareness. She was quiet and contemplative as she let him seat her and pour the wine. The presence
she now realised she could feel wherever she went to some degree, seemed to permeate everything around her, but
nowhere near as strongly as in his bedroom. She dreaded staying in there with or without him. Of course she could
just leave and he would be powerless to stop her. True she was in an elven fana but she had full use of all her Maia
powers and could come and go as she wished. She could also change fanar or size, or anything else she might deem of
use to protect her. Of course she could be injured or even have her elven fana killed which would diminish her Ainur
powers, but only if he were to catch her completely off guard which was highly unlikely. His question about trust
rousted her from her reverie and she smiled almost worriedly and nodded.
"Why not? What have I to fear? You said I could leave any time I wanted, right? Besides, I do not require much sleep
and the company would be nice." Yes, even yours, she thought to herself, studying him closely.
"Company, hm?" One brow rose high over the lip of his cup as he drank. Oh, he knew what she meant, but couldn't
resist the chance to twist it to something a bit more base.
Something was wrong. He could see it in the smile she gave him. Something, but he couldn't place what. He also had

a feeling that if he asked, she would shake her head and claim it was nothing, or say it was only her inner sadness. He
would not be allowed into her confidence any more than he opened up to her. He'd already opened enough.
The meal was served. Simple, chicken and lamb--probably stolen--greens, cheese, and bread. Grapes sat in a bowl
between them, apples in another a little further down. A hand gestured to the plates set out. "Eat what you like. I'll not
limit you." He helped himself, and as he picked up his knife, he looked at her.
"Yes, you may leave whenever you wish. You may return, if you wish. But... When I sleep, can I trust you?" Point on
the table, he turned the knife this way and then that...and the serious look on his face faded into smile that said he
meant his words only as a jest.
"No more than I can trust you," she smiled brightly, trying to jest. But if she was honest, she felt anything but cheerful.
Not in this place. Whatever he was dabbling in was dark and evil and ancient as the world. It was entirely possible that
it had something to do with why the place had been a ruin in the first place. It wasn't the first time Ilmar had seen
dark lairs in ruins. It still bothered her that there was something familiar about it all too. But for the moment, she tried
to concentrate on her host. He may truly be as lost in the darkness as he seemed to want to be, but he was just a human
after all. And she could see a glimmer of something decent deep inside. If there was any chance of redemption, she
was determined to help. It was, after all, what she was down here to do... help. "I know I can leave at any time, even
this very second. But I have promised I would not and I always keep my promises."
He had to laugh. A true, open, and real laugh. Here he was, sitting at his own table, laughing with her, and who knew
what this castle had in its past? Was it possible he'd awakened something with his works? Was it possible he'd gone
further with his rituals than he knew? Only one had ever been to seek power, and it had failed miserably. He would
never want to admit how powerless he really was, how ordinary. He would never want to admit that his rituals, rites,
and readings were all in vain, his delusions of something that wasn't there.
One day, it would likely all come crashing down on him, and he'd snap, mentally.
He was dangerous. He was the one who would as soon put a knife in your back as welcome you through his door. He
was the one who would curse you to the ends of the earth for the smallest infraction. He was the one who fed off his
inner darkness because it was all he knew.
But he was also alone. So alone.
"I believe you would be one to keep your word." He tore a chunk of bread from the loaf and offered it to her. "I cannot
say the same for myself...with one exception." A bite was chewed, his look direct. When he spoke again, his voice was
much softer than he intended.
"I will keep my promises to you."

"I thank you," she gave him a half-lidded bow of her head, shining jet black hair falling to frame her pale face. "Then
you may trust me with your life." She accepted the bread and nibbled it thoughtfully, not particularly hungry but
knowing she had to feed her physical form. She ate a little of the chicken but bypassed the lamb. There was something
about eating baby anything that just turned her stomach. Her eyes examined the room they were now in, taking in
every detail which she would remember distinctly should it ever become necessary to do so. Then her eyes came to rest
upon him once more as she took a sip of her wine.
He was getting used to her appearance. That would have to stop. There was no way he was going to become
accustomed an Elf roaming his home. But it was Ilmar, and he was indeed getting used to her. He disliked it. He
didn't need to get used to anyone. How had she worked her way into his good graces so he'd basically allow her to live
with him? The whole thought made him want to steel his spine and force her to leave.
Force her to his will.
Maybe she was a shapeshifter, but he could manage with that. He could hold her down. He could-His whole expression went dark, which made it a good thing he wasn't looking right at her. He wasn't going to think
of that. This was Ilmar, and he'd made a promise to her. He wouldn't betray that. There was always someone else he
could take it out on. Let someone else pay the price for these thoughts, but let her be safe.
Where she left the lamb alone, he chose to eat, but with these things floating in his head, he just couldn't continue. He
dropped everything, pushed his chair back from the table, and stood. "I've lost my appetite. Please, don't stop because
of me."
He left the room, returning to the silence of his bedroom.

Ilmar had little appetite too, and when he suddenly rushed off, she too, pushed her plate away. In silence she waited
for a few minutes, thinking things over in her mind, but not becoming any the wiser. Maldor's manservant appeared
and asked if she was all right. He seemed nice enough and she politely said she was no longer hungry. To this he
merely bowed and began to clear the table. She studied him as he worked, the scars and evidence of abuse clear to her
probing eyes. She felt sorry for the man and wondered why he remained here, but decided that was a question for
another time. Quietly she rose and walked out of the room only to appear in the doorway to his bedroom.
"I'm sorry if I did or said anything to offend you, Maldor," her voice was low and soft and full of something he was
clearly not used to... kindness.
Jenlo had nowhere else to go. Indeed none of the servants of The Keep had anywhere to go. And now, after being here,
no one else would have them. Jenlo himself had fared better than anyone else. His good behavior, lack of struggle, and
unwavering loyalty had won him some peace from the rage his master often showed.
Maldor retreated to his bedroom to sit on the floor before the fire. The flames, built up while they ate, would be a
distraction. He intended to meditate, but wouldn't have been able to focus. So he sat staring, silent and lost.
The tone of her voice, a sound not unexpected, caused him to close his eyes a moment. "You've done nothing wrong,
Ilmar." A great sigh was released. "I don't believe you ever could." His head went forward until his hair curtained his
face from view. "I cannot even question why you stand there. Where else would you be? There is such good in you.
Something...I've never seen before."
Silently, she sat before him, a pale, slender hand reaching out to part the curtain of hair and hold it back so she could
see his face. Her voice was soft and gentle, like a summer breeze kissing the sweat from one's brow.
"That is because you have never looked for it. All your life you've been told about the bad in you. So much so that you
came to look for and see only that darkness. But I can see there is some light, some goodness buried deep within you.
It will be hard, but I am sure you can find it. I can help you if you'll allow me to."
Don't look at me. Don't see me breaking down.
But he could not stop his eyes from rising to meet hers, wide, almost childlike, searching. He wanted to believe her
words, wanted so much to reach out and cling to her, plead with her to help him become all he might have been years
ago. He wanted to find what she claimed was there.
But it was a claim. There was no proof, and for all that he lived in the realm of faith, he could put none in simple
words.
Because of all this, his look changed, something almost apologetic. "I wish I had your belief." His hand rose, fingertips
whispering along her jaw. "But if you knew everything, you would not see that light. You'd find it was no more than a
dream."
As his fingers touched her skin, Ilmar could not help the shudder. Had it really been so long since someone had
touched her like this? She suddenly realised that indeed, Melkor had been gone for over a century now and she had
gone that long, as Maldor had said, chained to her grief. She shook it off and listened to his words.
"I know more than you think, or at least I can guess. I have seen your altar and the chains and blood stains, though
they have been cleansed. And I can see all the darkness in your soul. But I also see that light I spoke of. True, it is
small and it is well and truly buried but it is there. If you believe me to be your goddess, then you will just have to have
faith in my abilities to help you."
He hated the fact he actually felt self-conscious because she'd seen so much. Had it been anyone else, he would have
been unapologetic about the state of his altar, the story it told. He would raise his chin and deny the light, deny it all,
and punish them for not believing he was capable of what they saw. He'd done it before. More than once, he'd been
scoffed at, and the one who dared paid for it on that altar, dying with their screams in their throat, and their blood
joining with that of others he never bothered to count. As it was, he now tried to raise his chin...and her last sentence
kept him from doing so.
'If you believe me to be your goddess...'
"Then show me." He wanted to growl the words, indeed managed to grate them out. But his hand remained, and the
touch remained as light. It drifted over her cheek, along her jaw again, and down her neck. Always light, always
gentle. He might have gone further, but instead pulled away. He wouldn't do it. Not with her. With her, he'd stop, he'd
back down.
"Show me what you see. Show me that pin-prick of light you believe is there."

She knew what he was thinking somehow, it was written in his eyes and all over his face. He was torn between what
he thought he was... what he thought he was expected of him by others.. and what he truly wanted to be deep down
inside but had lost all hope of becoming. She knew he was going over choices - choices of what to do with her, to her.
In the end he was gentle, and did not harm her nor threaten her but merely demanded that she show him that glimmer
of light that she saw. With the softest of smiles, the maia tilted her head and fixed him with those emerald eyes of hers.
A hand then rose and fingertips brushed across Maldor's cheek, echoing his own gentle touch upon hers. "I don't have
to... you just showed it to me."
He'd never know her life, what it was like to live the life she'd had, to be so...high. She was so different from anyone
he'd ever come across. She was certainly the goddess. If not, then she was close. But he held his belief for now. How
could he not? But she saw everything of him. She saw what he was, and what might have been. She saw what others
saw, yet here she was, soft and glowing right before him. Those eyes, they glowed, and they were bright. No matter
what happened, they would never leave his mind. He would never forget them.
She was so beautiful. So very beautiful. But it was her words that truly struck him. He was stunned. Realisation shot
through him, and he didn't know what to do. Couldn't think, couldn't move. Nothing clicked properly.
It was going to eat at him for quite some time. And he had no idea what the result would be.
Swallowing hard, he pushed himself back away from her, rose to his feet, and looked down, his expression darkening.
"I have work to do." The door was closed behind him, as he went in search of the only thing he knew could help him
cope, his books and writing. Routine would calm him, would bring back some normalcy.
But would he ever really have it again?
Maldor was gone so quickly, Ilmar had hardly any time to respond and just sat there, watching as the door closed
behind him. He had left her alone in this room of foreboding, but that wasn't what concerned her most at the moment.
She considered going after him, but decided against it. This was a lot to come to terms with in so very short a time. No
doubt he needed to think, so she let him have his space. Still kneeling, she crawled a few feet towards the fire and
stoked it, placing another log to keep it going. As she did so, she wondered where he got the wood, as she had seen
little in the way of trees when she had arrived there earlier that day.
As she sat back, watching the flames lick at the new wood, coaxing its heat from it, the maia contemplated all that had
happened and what her options now were. Of course she could just leave and not worry about it any more. But there
had been such hope in his eyes.. hope that perhaps somehow he could be brought into the light and even find some
semblance of happiness in his remaining days. Plus there was the familiar yet as of yet unplaced evil that was lurking
about this old keep. She felt she had a duty to find out what it was, and, if possible, prevent it from doing any more
harm. As she thought, her eyes began to grow heavy and soon she was leaning against an armchair before the fire, her
head upon her arm on the seat, sleep taking her into fitful dreams.
He watched her sleep. For a long while he watched her while she slept by the chair. Standing over her, he looked
down.
So vulnerable. So delicate.

Whatever and whoever she might be, he knew there was always a way to have power over a woman, over anyone. But
in this case, he only watched.
He'd considered spending the night in the tower, locked away with his books, maps, charts, and tools. He'd considered
attempting the mirror, but it had never given him answers in the past, why would it now? Once dark fell, he found no
solace in watching the stars. After pacing for an hour or more, he gave up, lit a candle, and came back to his bedroom.
And found Ilmar in the floor.
He couldn't leave her there. It wouldn't be right. He'd offered her a bed during her stay. But he stood there for several
long minutes, the only sound the crackle of the fire, and watched her. Her words came back to him, and he wanted to
bolt again. How weak had he been?
Careful, gentle as he could be, he lifted her from the floor and turned to take her to the bed, laying her down slowly, so
as not to wake her.
Of course, being a maia in an elven body, she weighed next to nothing. Elves are so light upon their feet they can walk
upon the top of new fallen snow and not sink. Ilmar did not wake at first. As she slept she felt as if she were flying

then suddenly falling and she awoke with a start, grabbing at Maldor's chest for support. It was a moment or two
before she realised where she was and what was happening.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I must have fallen asleep."
"Whoa, you're all right."
He was just lowering her to the bed and found himself with her clutching at him. Rather than set her down,
reflexively, he straightened, keeping her close against him. It was a strange feeling.
She felt small, delicate and slim.
The corner of his mouth twitched with what might have been a smile, if he'd allow it. "You were on the floor by the
chair. I thought you might be more comfortable here." He was careful in setting her on the mattress, leaving enough
space for him to sit on the edge a moment.
"I swear you'll be safe here tonight. I'll not disturb you."
He nodded once, then moved to rise and let her sleep again.
"No, please," her words were small and pleading. "There is something evil in this room. I don't want to be left alone.
Please stay with me." In truth she was not afraid for herself but for him, for she could sense the evil presence was
biding its time until it could claim him and then he would be lost forever. She owed it to him, had promised him, to try
and keep him away from the presence and to bring him back to the light.
Evil?
It's only me...
He said nothing like that, but looked confused as he lowered to his place again. "There is nothing here, Ilmar. Only
you and I. You are safe." She was the only woman he'd ever attempted to comfort this way, and mean his words. But
she sounded so genuinely frightened, and for some reason, it struck a chord for him. It wasn't just her kindness to him,
it was something else.
"I planned only to move to the chair. That's all. I will not leave you alone in here. As promised."
What could it be? He sensed nothing, as she did. All seemed normal to him. The only thing that seemed strange was
that someone was asking for his presence.
Ilmar looked at him, concern colouring her beautiful features. Did he really not sense anything in that room? Perhaps
he didn't. Perhaps it was because she was Ainu that she could sense something... but that would mean it was another
Ainu. She suddenly felt a sensation like tentacles or snakes running up her back and leapt from the bed with a shriek.
"There is something in here and it's associated with the bed. I will sit by the fire, though I doubt I'll sleep." She stood
staring at the bed, then turned her head to look at him, a very serious look in her emerald eyes.
What bothered her so? What evil could she be sensing that would cause her such unrest? He could only stare in
confusion as her expression changed. He was just opening his mouth to speak when she jumped up. His own reaction
was follow her, rising to his feet in a shot. An arm went out for her, meant as a comfort, and when she told him it was
the bed, he looked at it.
For her, she sensed something far greater and more dangerous than he imagined, but for him, it was a vision, a series
of scenes that would horrify anyone. There were shackles on the bed for a reason, and he'd made good use of them
over time. One by one, girls had found themselves here, some willing, daring themselves to see what he was like, some
unwilling and pleading for their lives.
Eyes closed, he could see memories of himself, snarling at this one or that, murmuring dark and dirty promises to
others. Some had been beaten. Some simply pushed around. It depended on his mood, on the purpose, and on the
moon. He couldn't sense the bigger picture, but this much he felt, and this much made him wonder who he was to
stand beside someone like Ilmar.
"I've no other place to offer you." He spoke before opening his eyes again. When he did, and met her gaze, he
wondered if his eyes were as empty as he felt inside. "I could make some arrangement in the tower room, but it is cold
at night."
Maybe some of what Ilmar felt was the history of all the horrors that piece of furniture had seen. But she had been
around such things before. Morgoth had done his fair share that would have put anything attempted by this human to
shame. No, it was the entity that dwelt there but not there, as if it were in another dimension just waiting to be set free
in this one. His words were only half heard as overcame her initial shock and started to try to puzzle the situation out,

but she caught the gist.

"No, no. I want to stay with you, if I may. You can sleep but I doubt I would be able to anyway." Her eyes were clearer
now as they continued to look at his, where she still could see that vague flicker of light.
The longer he was with her, the more he questioned himself. The more he wondered at his sanity. The more he was
sure she was wrong, that there was no light to be found in him. Yet...there'd been that spark earlier. It scared him, to
think he might be more than he'd ever imagined, but...was it really possible?
Perhaps one day, he would see it.

"I did not plan to leave you alone, Ilmar. It doesn't seem a good idea now. But, if you'll permit me..." Taking her
hand, he'd lead her to the chair. "Sit with me. You don't have to, but...I cannot allow you to stay on the floor, nor do I
enjoy the idea of you sitting awake while I sleep. So...sit with me."
Once again, something shone from within, and once again, he felt like a stranger in his own mind. But in the end, he
sat down, and waited to see if she'd accept the invitation.
The maia looked at the bed, her eyes fixed on the shackles wondering how many women and perhaps even men had he
placed in them? How many lives had expired in that bed to feed the appetite of the entity that dwelled there? Maldor
may have believed that it was his own appetite he'd been sating, but she knew better. And the creature would continue
to demand lives until it could break through into this world. As he finished speaking, Ilmar looked at him and found
herself nodding.
"Thank you, Maldor.* Anything was better than that bed, she thought as she sat upon his lap, weighing hardly
anything at all.
Only one man had ever been there, and he when Maldor was young, new into his darkness, and curious about how far
he could go. It had not been to his liking. The poor fellow had died a slow and bloody death for that lack of interest.
Or maybe it was so the young pagan could cover up his distaste of what he'd done. As for the girls, he could not count
them, though they were not so many as one might think. He simply didn't care to count.
I am breaking. One day with her here and I'm breaking, like some weak thing too simple to think for himself. These
memories have never bothered me before. Why should they now? I have never backed down from the visions of my
past, the nights and days I've spent either in work or in...play. Now? I am breaking.
Whatever went on in his mind, he laid a gentle hand at her back, leaning into the chair and bringing her against him.
"If you can sleep, you should. But I tell you there's nothing and no one here save the two of us. You are safe, even from
me."
Ilmar leaned back against him, turning her legs sidways, sitting across his lap, feet hanging over the arm of the chair.
She leaned her head against his shoulder and looked at him. "I'm not frightened of you, Maldor. I never was. If you
had really wanted to hurt me, you would have done so by now. No, there is something here. You may not be able to
sense it, but I think it's come for you. I fear for you, not of you.
'It's come for you...'
Those words chilled him. They were like ice in his veins. But he'd give no outward sign of it. Not when he was trying
so hard not to fall apart, not to become something less than what he'd been all these years. He was strong, fearless, and
not someone to be crossed.
"You don't know, Ilmar. Maybe I have some plot in mind for you. It's no stretch to think of some lovely fate for you
even while you sit here, leaning into my shoulder, believing me to be your protector." It was a glorified scenario, but a
suggestion nonetheless. "Maybe you sense something because that bed is meant for you."
But while she looked at him, he looked at the bed.
What was it?!
What's coming for me?!
Ilmar shook her head and smiled at him. "No, it's not meant for me and you know it. Besides, you've seen what I can
do, and you know I can disappear at any time. But I made a promise to help you if I could and I will stay and do just

that. I always keep my promises." With this she yawns, covering her mouth with her hand and pressing her head
against him, eyes closing. Her arms rest upon his around her and she lets out a soft hum, feeling warm and cozy and
safe here.
"You are far too confident." But she was right. He'd been honest when he first showed her in and said the shackles
were not for her. The darkest activities of that bed were not for her. Had he decided to take her there, it would have
been different. As it was, he he didn't plan that, either.
As she settled in, he sighed heavily. This is not the life I live, Ilmar... This is not what I know. Why do you do this to
me? But he held her all the same, actually finding comfort in her presence, in having her against him.
"I will keep my promise", he whispered. "I will not hurt you." The voice trailed off. "I will not hurt you..."
Those words were in her ears as she quickly fell asleep, exhausted from the long day and the stress of sensing that evil
power that felt like sapped all her strength from her and actually made her afraid. Even with Morgoth she had not
been afraid, only when he had brought the Maia Ungoliant to Angband, having forged an alliance with her, the mother
of all spiders. Cloaked in her Unlight,this creature of pure darkness forever sought to satisfy her insatiable craving to
devour all light, to feed her everlasting emptiness. Ilmar's dreams may have been haunted by visions of the great
spider, save for her extreme exhaustion. Instead she slept soundly and in peace, even in Maldor's arms.
In the red light of the fire, he stared into the shadows of the room. Darkness surrounded them, but they were in the
light. Both of them. He was not left out. And even while he trembled with fear, Ilmar was there. She was so light, but
so warm in his grasp. She was there, his shield against the darkness. His hope for the light.
It is not for me. Never me. The light abandoned me years ago. How could I ever hope...?
While she slept, he cried. Silent tears coursed down his face as he stared, half afraid the darkness would jump out to
attack him, half daring it to try.
Turning his head, his face to hers, he calmed, his breathing slowing until he was asleep at last.
Exhaustion prevented Ilmar from dreaming; no doubt they would have been full of dark, creepy things anyway. She
slept as if dead in Maldor's arms, hardly stirring, hardly even breathing or so it seemed. She awoke with the first
birdsong of morning, not that it could be heard within the Keep, nor that there were many birds to sing in this desolate
land. She opened her eyes, the green as bright as ever. Maldor's eyes were closed in sleep, the maia studying his face.
Gentle fingers traced the dried tears on his cheeks and a look of worry crosses her face, and yet she remained still for
fear of waking him.

He wouldn't remember if he dreamed, his mind so scattered from the events of the previous day. At least he shut down
for a while, but it was waking that would linger with him. The light of early morning pushed at the black curtains,
trying to filter through. Coming up from sleep, he couldn't be sure he felt something touching his face, or if it was the
feel of the body against him. Unfamiliar, but so desperately needed. As his eyes opened, he found those brilliant
emeralds so close, and could only stare back.
"You were no dream." The words were whispered, hit face almost expressionless, though the tone spoke of the wonder
of discovering a hope was indeed real.
At hearing these whispered words, Ilmar's smile was brighter than the sun that threatened to disturb the gloom of the
dark bedroom. "No, Maldor, I am very much real." She shifted in his lap to sit up a little and stretch, much like a cat,
long and languorous, a hand coming to rest in his hair at the back as if to reassure him.
A deep part of him had to wonder at the smile he saw. I made that happen. My words made her smile at me that way.
How? How can she smile when I-The feel of her movement, to watch her, warmed everything inside to an almost dangerous level. His hands itched to
slide over her, trace her figure, learn the warm curves of her. Instead, he simply laid a hand against her leg, just an
inch above the knee, the other at her lower back.
And oh, the hand in his hair! Such an intimate touch was almost unknown to him, and certainly never with gentleness
like this. It was difficult to stay still, to not raise his head and kiss her.
"And seen safe and sound through the night."
"Indeed, thank you." Ilmar's smile brightened even further, her green eyes half closed as they flitted over his
countenance, alighting on the dried tears, her expression changing to one of concern. For a fleeting moment, she felt
the urge to kiss them away, but resisted. It was what she would normally had done but knew he would probably resist

it. Yet her hand remained in his hair, whether habit or because she wanted to, fingers gently playing with the dark
golden locks. "I hope you managed to sleep too and that I wasn't too much of a burden."
His own expression changed with hers. She seemed so worried over him, and he saw no reason for her to be. That, in
turn, worried him. After all these years alone, he didn't know how to reassure her. Maybe when night fell again, he
would find a way to calm her and let her sleep on the bed, as he'd told her she could. If not... He dared not think of the
fact he'd be willing to sleep like this again.
What if she chose to leave because of it?
No. He wouldn't let her, only to have the feel of her close like this, her fingers toying with his hair in a way no one had
ever done. Slowly, tentatively, his hand slid up her back, his touch light.
"You are no burden, my lady." His lips curved into the slightest smile, but only for a moment, for he gave in, closing
the gap between them to claim her mouth in the kiss he wanted so much. Slanting, dark, demanding...but with no
threat, with no strange, unseen intention. Just this.
In spite of herself, Ilmar allowed the kiss, even relished it for it had been so long since she had last felt Melkor's lips
against her own nor any since. She thought there would have been an inrush of thoughts, of guilt, of visions of
Melkor's disapproving scowl or trepidation on her part, but there was... nothing. Just the kiss, full of longing and pent
up emotions on both their parts. The maia could feel it, as if it were arms wrapping around them both, and at the same
time letting go and giving them both a sort of freedom. Her fingers moved gently higher to cradle the back of Maldor's
head, a warmth filling her elven form as she had not felt in more than a century. as she returned his kiss gladly.
Obviously, it had not been nearly so long since Maldor's last kiss, but this... This was certainly the first that was
heartelt. It was the first he *meant*. He couldn't explain it, and would probably tell anyone else that she had some
influence over him, or it was some confusion created by the light to distract him from his path...but the truth was that
he simply wanted it. Longed for it. As if waiting years, he dove into it headlong, his hand rising to cup her jaw. How
was it he handled her so lightly? So carefully? He'd told himself not to do this, reminding himself of her tears the day
before, but he'd lost the battle, and the feel of her soft lips was enough to make him dive deeper, his tongue against her
bottom lip to coax her.
And he told himself he'd stop. Stop there. Stop now.
But he didn't.
Ilmar was thinking similar things, but the touch of his tongue along her lip sent a shudder through her as her lips
automatically parted to allow him entry. Her other hand slipped up along his chest to his neck, to come to rest upon his
jaw, as the other still nestled in his hair. His kiss was strong, commanding but not forceful. How could she ever admit
to him that she had thought of this since he first approached her, whip in hand wielding threats?
Even in her Elven form, he couldn't deny his attraction to her. He should. He should back off, forget everything, and
show her exactly how dangerous he was. Become the man she'd first mt with the whip in his hand. But he couldn't.
Not in this moment. Not with her mouth so yielding under his, not with her hands on him. Every fingertip was a jolt,
every moment spent with his tongue against hers was a memory he'd cling to in the bleakest days...when she was
gone.
This was temporary. She was willing to help him. He knew that. He knew-Even as he sighed, a sound of pure pleasure, his hand went to the back of her head and grasped her hair. Tight. He
took hold of a handful, locking his fingers into the dark strands.
Pulling back from the kiss, he glared at her, teeth bared.
As he did that, Ilmar's first thought was 'here we go, we have to show that we're the mean badass dominant male who
can't possibly actually care for anyone...' But why did he fight her? Why did he keep denying the light that resided
within him? It was as if he didn't want to come out of the darkness. Then she sensed the entity and knew it was that
which had its dark hold upon him. More determined than ever, she would not give up and abandon him to the mercy
of the Dark One. She would never give up.
As he bared his teeth at her, Ilmar just looked up at him, those big, clear emerald eyes glistening in the scant
sunbeams of early morning light as two gentle fountains of hope blinking innocently. Pure innocence and light. That
was what Ilmar was.
"Maldor?" his name brushed softy past her lips questioningly.
Maldor's mind was a blinding fog, locking him away in a haze that made no sense to him. Lost, he fumbled for some
kind of doorway back to reality.

~You cannot fight me. For twenty years, I've ruled you. For twenty years, you have served me. You will not stop now.
Rule her. You can, whatever she says. You know she's lying. She's no Maia, she's nothing but an uppity Elf.
Disgusting, full of her own self. Rule her! Hold her down. Use her. Bleed her! You've not tasted of an Elf's blood.
You've not had it on your hands. Use her, and then show her permanent darkness!~
His hand tightened in her hair, twisting slightly.
Her eyes...
A growl sounded as he fought to keep control.
Her eyes...

He swallowed hard, his expression crumbling. His hand eased, loosening in her hair, then let go until it was just his
fingers tangled in the strands. "Ilmar..." His blue-grey eyes shone silver as tears formed.
"I failed..."
Ilmar sat up, as light as a kitten in his lap, and took his face in her hands. "No, Maldor, you didn't fail. You're still
here, still with me and I am unharmed as you promised me. I never said it would be easy, but you have the power to
fight it." She studied his eyes, as if trying to read into his very fa. "Tell me.. what does the voice sound like? Is it male
or female?" she asks, her voice soft and low.
This was the reason for her eyes effecting him! It wasn't him, it was whatever held him, screaming in rage and
confusion and disappointment. After all this time, there was someone else fighting with him, and a chance he might
win. The look of her eyes, her beautiful eyes, assured whatever it was that light and good had come to The Keep...and
would fight.
Staring back at her, he was shaking his head, just enough she'd feel it. "I don't know. I don't know! It rasps at me, it
just whispers. It's not male or female. It's everything." His own voice was no more than a whisper.
"It's everywhere."
Nodding gently, one hand brushed the hair from his eyes before resuming its position upon his cheek. Now she
understood completely. All of his rituals had opened himself up as a servant for this creature, whatever it was, to take
him over and bend him to its will, not that it really had far to bend. And the bed... it wasn't just a bed but a portal of
sorts to let the being into this world from whatever world in which it was imprisoned. Yes, she understood now, but
who was it? The familiarity she had felt when she first noticed its presence was disconcerting to say the least.
Without another word, she leaned in and claimed his lips herself, pressing herself against him to give him as much to
concentrate on as possible, whilst her mind tried to touch upon what exactly was in his.
What would happen to Maldor when he realised all he'd done, and the fact he'd not been in control? What would
happen when he realised the number of people who had died at his hands, tortured, abused, raped, and slaughtered, all
innocent, all pleading? Could a mortal mind survive the reality of the wrongs done, the accusations, the sins and
crimes committed? All for an evil force he couldn't name. All for something not of himself.
And what would he do when he found the good in himself? What would he do when that good made him feel the guilt
and shame of his crimes?
He gave himself up to her, the kiss so very sweet, so very needed. He didn't fight, but delved in as before, keeping her
close, one hand at her back, one sliding slowly upward over her ribs.
Whatever plan she had, she had more than him.
Of course Ilmar knew nothing of his past indiscretions, though she suspected such things, and it was probably
because of this at least partly that she refused to sleep in his bed. Had she known, she probably would have left, but
that was before she had decided to stay and fight for this one human's future, even his very fea. But as determined as
she was, she had no plan; could formulate no plan until she knew what she was facing. Besides just wanting to kiss
him again, she also wanted to help allay Maldor's fears and perhaps draw the creature out for no doubt it would be
jealous of her. Jealous? Why would it be jealous unless it was female? And how many evil female entities did she
know?
Of course the feeling of his strong hands upon her body excited her more than she wanted to admit as was sitting in

his lap still as she slipped her hands back from his face to entangle in his hair.
What would he do when she knew all? The shame would be enough to wither someone down to nothing.
~She'll leave you, and you'll be mine again. Go on. Kiss her. Touch her. But when she knows what you've done, what
you are, you'll be mine again. Mine alone.~
The smallest gasp broke the kiss, but without hesitation, without missing a beat, he started it again. As before, he
demanded all from her, parting her lips to seek her tongue. The hand that moved over her ribs went higher, cupping a
breast. But it was no harsh touch, no grasp. He was careful, determined to be so, to prove he controlled himself, not
the entity within. The other hand went to her hip, pressing her down as his hips rolled upward. This contact turned
him on as much as it did her.
~Take what you want! You think it will make you happy? Then take it. See if it fills all the gaps inside you.~
He only whispered her name.
Ilmar could feel Maldor's mind as surely as she could feel the rest of him below her as he responded to her attentions.
She knew he was battling with the creature, but it had a firm hold on him and wasn't about to let go any time soon.
That, however, did not stop her from continuing to get through, to know what it was they were up against. She had to
ask him more questions, but not right now. Right now she was busy indulging herself a little, realising now just how
much she missed this kind of intimacy. In spite of herself, the maia pressed against his hand, squirmed in his lap and
let her tongue wrestle with his with a soft moan.
This indulgence was something new. Maldor had been almost the perfect age when he was introduced to passion. But
it was only within a couple of years that he found the darkness overtaking him, found he liked proving his power over
others. All these years, it had never changed.
Until now.
Now, he acted in a way that was utterly foreign to him. Oh, he'd played this role before, being tender with a girl before
turning on her. That wouldn't happen here. It was bad enough he'd nearly lost control once, but he was determined to
get lost in this as long as it lasted, and not hear the voice in the back of his mind. Her moan kept him going, made him
answer it with one of his own.
Breaking the kiss again, he whispered to her.
"Don't... Don't let me go too far."
His hips rolled again, his eyes heavy-lidded.
His words broke her concentration for she wasn't really sure just what he meant. "Too... too far?" She nodded slightly,
concern on her beautiful face as her hands now raked through his hair, studying his face to try to understand what was
going on in his mind. Her eyes blinked slowly, enhancing her look of innocence and, in spite of her darker looks, light.
That he had this much control told her that she was getting somewhere with her methods so she kissed him again, this
time slowly, gently, genuine feeling behind the act.
He didn't want to push things. She just didn't seem the type to jump into bed with someone she'd just met, even if
they'd already slept together...if only in a chair, and had truly just slept.
Which posed a question... If the two did sleep together, would doing so in that bed change the course of everything?
Would her light battle back at the source? Or would the darkness only corrupt everything between them? Did he stand
a greater chance of losing control and harming her? Or did he stand a greater chance of winning the fight?
"I won't do something you don't want to do."
Wrapped up in her kiss, he let his hand slide down her form again, down to his starting point at her knee. Where it
began a slide upward again, up her thigh.
Ilmar wondered the same thing, actually. Whether being with him in that bed would help or hinder their task. She
searched her knowledge and her gut feelings for some kind of answer. There was no question that her physical form
wanted to, oh did it ever. But something inside said it might be putting her maia self at serious risk. Still embroiled in
the kiss, she opened an eye and looked past his shoulder at the bed. It seemed to be mocking her, daring her to push
her luck. She half closed the one open eye and that's when she could see it - a faint glow just around the edges of the
headboard. The realisation struck her suddenly, of course! It was a portal, a gateway, a door of some kind through
which the entity could enter this world. Something as pure as Ilmar's maia power would no doubt open it and let the

being through. That would not be good.

But Maldor... his hand felt so good upon her thigh, so long had it been since she had been touched like this. Again she
squirmed upon his lap, feeling evidence of his own desire which only made the decision harder. But she had made one
decision: If she did give in, it would not be on that bed.
Her squirming ripped a groan from him. He'd give a lot to pick her up and carry her to the bed, and end this
frustration right here and now.
He didn't do it.
What she was seeing was something he'd never seen before. While it was probably always there, or almost always, it
had never been visible to him. She might be seeing a glow that indicated something otherworldly and dark, but all he
ever saw was a bed. Which was why he hadn't understood her fear of it. Why this entity had chosen the bed, he'd later
only guess at...it was a sick game to play. It could have been anything, but the bed? It would turn his stomach, with all
his memories.
With his hand firm on her thigh, he lifted his hips yet again to grind against her. The move made him growl low in his
throat, pull back, and glare up at her.
"We are both trying my will power here, Ilmar..."
As much as she wanted him, he was right. With a long, deep, heartfelt release of breath, she gazed into his eyes and
kissed him briefly on his lips.
"I know. We should stop... for now."
Carefully and gracefully she disentangled herself and climbed off his lap. Standing before him, she looked down and
held her hand to him, pulling him to his feet. Then she did something, no doubt, he'd never known before... She put
her arms around him and held him close.
"I know you've probably done many bad things in the past, some of them no doubt terrible. But I believe they were not
of your own doing, but that the entity, whatever it is, has influenced you in order to feed it power so that it may break
through into our world. This is what I think, and so.. know that I do not blame you for anything you've done under this
influence, and I will keep my promise to do what I can to free you from this curse."
~You think you're cute. It will not stop. You'll walk around in a haze of need for her, and until you finally give in and
take what you need, you'll never find peace. Can you live with that? You never have before. It will feed off of you,
becoming stronger...just as I have, and you have been so blind!~
He seemed dazed until he was on his feet, standing there, with her arms around him. This embrace was indeed a first
for him, and he went from dazed to completely lost. Her words deepened it all. She might not blame him now, but she
also had no idea what those deeds might have been. At least, no clear idea with any detail. He would never tell her,
that he promised himself right then and there. He wanted to ask why he'd been chosen, but he knew why. He'd been
vulnerable. A perfect choice. Someone beaten down and broken, someone with no hope and no definite road ahead.
Clinging to her, he sighed heavily. "I am trying to understand this, to understand how half of my life is now to be
rewritten and thrown aside. That I have wasted so much time trying to feed something I've never seen. It makes no
sense, and a great part of me does not believe it at all. It cannot be. You have seen the evidence of all I am, Ilmar. You
cannot make up stories to make me seem better than I am."
~I knew you were weak.~
"Maldor, I am not making anything up," Ilmar sighed, pulling back enough to look into his face, arms around his
neck, resting upon his broad shoulders. "Is that what the voice is telling you? I know you hear it, in your head. I can
see the conflict and confusion on your face, the pain in your eyes."
Her words are soft and yet firm, almost warning, at the same time. But the warning would not be for Maldor but for
the thing that lives within him, poisoning his mind and his spirit to the point that he thinks it is who he is, who he has
become.
"Maldor, this is not you, not the real you. I think you know this and have known for a long time, but have been
powerless to fight against it. Well, I am here now and I will not leave until this thing is defeated, even if I am
destroyed trying. It is as if Eru himself sent me here to help you and to defeat this monster that would do you such

harm."
'Even if I am destroyed trying...'
"No! Don't say that." The words were harsh, commanding. His look was no different. "Do not even think it." The
thought of her losing her life in the process of trying to save him was something he didn't want inside his head.
~Because you know she would be destroyed. Or is it that you know an immortal life would not be wasted on the life of
one small mortal. You're meaningless! A waste of the stuff it takes to build the body you have!~
That voice was not so strong before. He'd never known it to be there before Ilmar's appearance. Or was it just that
he'd never paid attention to it, blindly doing what it wanted without even knowing he was being controlled? He'd done
as he pleased, and knew his path. The path of his work, his writing, the work of his temple. Now, that was all smeared
and faded like a fog. He needed to get back to it, back to the life he'd known before this interruption.
Or was it a grasp to keep her there?
~Oh yes. Because whatever the outcome, she'll be gone when this is over.~
Slowly, he set her back from him, pulling away from her arms. "I've much to do. I cannot ignore my duties by
entertaining you all day." Turning away, he left the room, leaving the door open in his wake.
Maldor's abrupt exit left Ilmar standing alone in confusion and bewilderment. She was so sure she was getting
through to him. She thought at first to go after him, but at the doorway she stopped and turned to address the bed.
"You think you're so clever do you? To attack a man when he's down and use him to further your own ends? Well you
won't have him, do you hear? I am not leaving here so deal with it!" Her words were harsh and the last shouted so
loudly they could no doubt be heard in other parts of the partially restored Keep. Shaking, Ilmar hugged herself then
went in search of a bathroom.
Her words had been well chosen. Conflict and pain were all he felt inside...except for those minutes when he'd been
locked in her embrace, within their shared kisses, the feeling of his desire for her.
On leaving his chamber, he'd gone to the tower room, gathering his black robe, and the needed items for a ritual. With
them in hand, he went off to the temple, pausing only a moment to look down the hall toward his room. He saw no one
there.
Where had she gone?

For a moment, he feared she'd left, leaving him behind to whatever his fate would turn out to be. It was a frightening
thought. And one he pushed down before he heard the voice taunting again. He didn't want it bothering him during his
work.
In the temple, he set up a tub and several pitchers of water. Undressing, he knelt at the altar and prayed, then cast the
circle to include the tub and pitchers. Candles were lit, despite the morning sun, and he worked his way through the
ritual he'd created. He began with his hair and worked his way down to his feet, all but shivering by the time he was
done. The circle was undone with the closing prayer. The tub was emptied and returned to its place, the pitchers with
it. When all was clean, and he was dry, he pulled the black robe on, the material swinging about his legs, brushing the
floor as he moved. His clothing was bundled together, the robe overlapped and held shut, and he went back to the
castle. The bundle was handed off for washing, and he went on toward his chamber to dress.
Maybe now he could get through his day with a clear head.
After a little searching, Ilmar found the bathroom, her own head not clear enough to locate it immediately. With the
help of Jenlo supplying towels and other articles, took a long, soaking bath and went over events in her mind. What
would be the best course of action to defeat the voice in his head? No, it wasn't just a voice in his head, but an ancient
evil from long ago that had been thought dead in this world. And now it wanted back. She knew of only one such
being and it was one she had met before when it had formed an uneasy alliance with Melkor. But no, how could it be?
It must be something else, something she knew little of. Ilmar sighed. She could always go to her father, Manwe, and
see if he could answer her questions or even help. But no. Eru had sent her there and this was her problem to solve.
The distraction seemed to have worked earlier, at least a little bit. But was it fair to play with his emotions like that in
order to help him? Or would that just make her as bad as the creature? She exited the tub and pulled on a robe Jenlo
had given her and made her way back to his rooms. He was back by the time she arrived in silence, looking at him for

a moment in the doorway.

The room was still empty when he arrived. That was disturbing. He should have asked, seen if anyone knew where she
was, but he hadn't thought of it. He'd come back as if expecting her to automatically be there waiting. He'd come to
expect much in the bare day she'd been around. He was becoming attached, and that was dangerous. For both of them.
Coming into the room, crossed to the wardrobe to find clean clothes for the day. He paused by the chair that sat to one
side of the fireplace, and looked at it. Those quiet hours, with her in his arms, even if half that time was spent restless
and in tears, had been the best of his life. He could still feel the warmth of her lips, taste those deep and demanding
kisses they'd had. Could still feel his want of her burning just below the surface.
He laid his chosen garments on the foot of the bed, and had just removed a pale grey tunic with blue stitching to go
with it all when he felt something cause his neck to prickle. He pulled the robe about him in front--since he'd chosen
his ritual robe, not one for bathing with a tie at the waist--and turned to find Ilmar standing there.
Relief flooded him.
"I can wait", he offered. "I'll...let you dress and then come back."
She had stood there for a good few minutes, watching him before he noticed her. Wearing only the robe Jenlo had
given her and a wry smile, Ilmar shook her head.
"No, you go ahead. I'll just watch." Her smile widened slightly. "Unless of course," she began slowly walking towards
him, reaching for the edges of his robe as she neared, "you would like some... help."
It was a strange thing, to be watched by a woman that way. He'd been watched through terrified eyes, even eyes with
questioning or awe...but not the heated emerald gaze of a woman so beautiful.
"Will you now?" His tone was low, his lips curving into a smile. But she was coming toward him, and the expression
faded into something totally different. One dark--in a delicious kind of way--and that said he remembered their stolen
moments in the chair not long before. One hand still loosely held the black fabric while the other tossed the tunic onto
the bed.
"And just what...help are you offering me, Ilmar?"
The figure before him chuckled deeply and sidled into his arms, her hands slipping inside his robe to his back and
down to grasp his backside. Her own robe falling open as she pressed her soft, cool body against him.
What kind of help would you like? her voice was low and gravelly and dripping with intimated lust.
Something seemed a little off about that voice, but it didn't click any more than for him to wonder why she seemed to
sound...calculating. The problem was that he didn't know exactly what she'd sound like in the heat of a moment like
this, and so there was no reason for some alarm to go off in his head.
For a brief moment, his eyes closed, and he leaned in. "You came to me, my dear. So help me." As his voice dissolved
into a whisper, he cupped the back of her neck with a hand and pressed his mouth to hers in a deeply slanted kiss.
Maldor? Who are you talking to and what are you doing? Ilmar stood in the doorway wrapped in a silk bathrobe, a
towel in one hand, her clothes in the other. Her head was cocked to one side as she used the towel to dry her raven
black hair. It was clear that whoever or whatever was trying to seduce Maldor could not be seen by the maia.
He didn't hear her at first, didn't realise anyone was there. He was lost in the sweet of the kiss, lost in the softness of
her skin, the feel of her hands on him. He hadn't expected her to be so forward, but had to admit the distraction was
welcome, a continuation of their wake-up.
When the first kiss broke, he drew back to look down into her face...and saw movement elsewhere. His eyes snapped
upward, toward the door, and found her standing there.
Ilmar.
Oh Goddess, which is real?

The blue-grey eyes darted back and forth between the two, and ice went all through him. Something was very strange,

and his head didn't feel right. At the same time, he couldn't fully grasp just what the problem was. Everything had
been fine a moment ago. New, but fine.
Confused, Ilmar stepped forward, approaching him and reaching for his hand. As it passed through the figure before
him, it hissed, then disappeared as if it had never been there.
"Maldor, are you all right? You look as if you had seen a ghost or something?" A movement caught the corner of her
eye and she quickly looked at the bed behind him, the covers seeming to ruffle like the wave of something swimming
past beneath the water. Ilmar, the real Ilmar, took his hands in hers and squeezed them tightly.
"No..." He spoke as she walked toward him, his eyes widening. No, she'd been right there, right in front of him. She'd
gladly kissed him, touched him, pressed into him, all soft and warm and re-Not real.
"I think I more than saw it." His eyes followed hers, and he pulled back. "It was here, wasn't it? That is what I saw.
That is what I--" Her hands took his and he shook his head. "This was not real before. The voice was not there. All of
this came when you arrived, when I let you in. I may go mad from this, if I have not already." His hands clung to hers,
though he would not want to admit it.
"It looked like you. It *was* you, as you are now. And it wanted me." How far would it have gone had she not
appeared?!
Ilmar frowned as she listened, clutching his hands even as he clutched hers. She pondered things in her mind before
she spoke.
"No, Maldor, you are not going insane. It is the creature, she's jealous of me. Of us. She has had you to herself for all
these years. No doubt you have brought... victims here and she has used them, taken them over to feel the pleasure you
give then feeds off their life force when they die. Everything you do, you feel, is being manipulated by this creature.
Everything but us and she can't handle it. At least that's my theory." She pulled him closer, releasing one hand so she
could caress his cheek, her hand warm and soft.
I am being used.
Of all the things any dark entity could use to feed its need for energy, for power...to use the physical act?! Was Ilmar's
theory really possible? More than once, he'd heard those cries turn from fear and pleading to something sweeter,
almost pleading for more rather than freedom.
I am being used.
Are my feelings towards her the only light in me?
What would happen if I denied her and sent her away? Would it all get worse? Would I be swallowed completely by the
blackness?
But if her theory held truth, it explained why she couldn't be in that bed. She, of pure light. No doubt, if he took her
there, this creature would try to take over her body as well, then feed off of anything found within her. Even make him
try to kill her.
I am being used.
He had to fight not to flinch when she touched him. She, who had been there only moments ago, so warm and willing,
reaching for him, and then had turned to nothingness. She, who was now so much sweeter.
"I know who and what I am, Ilmar. I tried to warn you of that yesterday." His free hand pointed toward the bed.
"There is nothing there save dark memories *I* created. *I* made them, and *I* will live in them for the rest of my
life. I am not afraid of a bed, an object."
Darling, you are completely missing the point! The bed is merely the gateway the creature is using to come into this
world... through you. It's a focusing point for all the dark energy she feeds off of and needs to reform and come back to
terrorise us all. For I believe this creature to be none other than Ungoliant herself.
Ilmar, by now was pressed up against him once more, her robe closed and tied, but loose at the top, the towel she had
used to dry her hair tossed to the side. Her hair was still wet and smelled of a garden on a spring morning. This time
she was real.
"No! There *IS* no gateway!" His voice rose, his look wild. "There is no creature, no...Ungoliant!" Still pointing, he

shook his head. "That is a bed. No gateway, no opening to some other dimension, realm, anything. There is nothing
reaching out through me to come into our own world. Nothing. It is absurd!"
When she pressed in, the wild look darkened, a look like that from this morning. He took advantage of the clasp of
their hands, whipping her around so her back was against him. Walking her forward, he turned her to the foot of the
bed and pushed her forward, face-down. Despite her leap of terror the night before, he stood behind her, as if to block
her in.
"Do you see a creature now? A gateway?" Leaning over her, he spoke low in her ear. "There is nothing there. Only me.
Shall I prove to you it's only me? Do you want to know, Ilmar...?"
I do know! I have fought this beast before and it is familiar to me. If you refuse to see that is your problem! She
suddenly disappeared from his grasp only to appear behind him. Please, Maldor, you must believe me! If you wish to
ever be free of her grasp, I am your only chance. If you had rather live the rest of your life her... plaything, then I
might as well take my leave.
She stood there, chest heaving with anger, frustration and concern, awaiting his response, prepared for more violence
for she understood that was all this human knew.
Only a swift move had his hands out so he wouldn't fall against the bed when she disappeared. For a moment, he stood
there, silent, enraged. Slowly, he straightened, wrapping the black robe about himself. When he turned to face her, the
darkness that had been in his face before was gone.
~You fool! You could have had her! ...Isn't that what you want?~
He didn't know what to say to her. Closing what gap there was between them, he lowered to his knees, head down, and
waited. Either she would forgive, or she might consider being kind enough to end his life.
The maia watched him, unsure of what he would do next. As he knelt before her in humility, she felt her heart melt.
Slowly, she lowered herself to kneel before him, a gentle hand beneath his chin, lifting his eyes to hers.
Oh, Maldor. I know this is hard for you. It is not easy for me either. But we will get through this... she then hugged
him to her. ... together. I promise.
She'd seen that look before, the eyes wide and searching, uncertain and confused. His arms slid around her slim waist,
his head on her shoulder.
"Ilmar... I don't know who I am anymore." The voice, once vicious, cruel, hard, was now a whisper, shaky and small.
"I'm going mad. I can feel it." Drawing back, he gave her the same look, but with a little more steel to it.
"Whatever this is, destroy it. Even if it means my life. Destroy it and end everything that has happened in this rotting
ruin. Make it right."
She leaned her head against his, holding onto him, a hand gently stroking his hair in a comforting gesture.
I promise, Maldor, she nods slowly. I will do everything in my power to defeat her. I must, for the good of the rest
of the world, even it means both of our lives. Her voice was low and grave, fully aware of the huge battle that lay
ahead. But at least it was an enemy that she knew and had battled before. Only this time she had a personal reason to
defeat the beast and send her back into the Void.
Now you send her to me. Twenty years, and now you send me the one I could have fallen for and lived a life with. My
life could end, and now you send her to me.
And still, he was willing to meet that end. He wasn't afraid, just disappointed.
"I am afraid to offer myself, knowing I may be more trouble than help." Please forgive me, especially because I can't
seem to ask it out loud. Lifting his head, he gave her a long look. "I will dress, then go and pray." His hand rose,
fingers hovering just above the skin of her cheek. "In some other place maybe we would have had a chance at
something beautiful. I'd have been good to you."
Ilmar looked at him, her expression troubled. Maldor, please, don't give up. We've only begun our fight. We can do
this, together. Then, who knows... She placed her hand upon his and pressed it to her cheek. There will still be lots
of time left for that life you always longed for.
She closed her beautiful eyes for a second, then opened them again. But I need you. You are the key to drawing her

out and defeating her. You saw how jealous she got of me being here. I think that is the best way to get her to show
herself.
He couldn't think to speak. The words didn't come to mind. This was why he needed to pray, for guidance, for
encouragement. How else would he see his way to fighting with her, being strong enough to doing it while knowing
his life would be on the line.
I'll face it with grace, unlike those I've seen in the past who cry and plead, who beg and sniffle and grovel. I'll meet it
head-on, and I'll be victorious whatever the outcome.
Knowing now the reason why her eyes effected him so, he found them simply beautiful, ethereal and endless. He'd
stare into them forever.

"What must I do? Surely you do not think I should make love to you, or something of the sort, just to get her
attention..."
Well, that would be one way, she blushed, standing and pulling him to his feet. I will have to do some thinking and
maybe even some research. We can do nothing whilst she is in that other world where she is. I'm not even sure where
she is, I just know the gateway is right here.
She turns to look at the bed, her brow creased with thoughtful concern. What exactly happens when you feel the need
to bring someone home to.. sacrifice? I mean, what prompts the desire?
He turned to the bed with her, the robe pulled close around him.
She had her hands on me. How many times has that happened before and I didn't know it? The thought leaves me
cold. It is disgusting.
~Is it? You were willing enough before she came in.~
In answering her question, he lifted a shoulder. "Sometimes, it simply comes to me. Other times, it is a ritual, like the
full moon." Seconds later, his face went white, his lips parted with the shock of what he'd just said.
Do not ask me. Do not ask me to tell you, Ilmar! NO!
"You...aren't suggesting I...find someone?"
A blank look of confusion met his shocked countenance. Then she realised what he meant.
No! No of course not! There will be no more of that sort of thing. She turned and shouted at the room, NO MORE
OF THAT DO YOU HEAR ME?! Then she turned and took his hands, holding them in hers, pressed to the upper
part of her chest. Green eyes met grey-blue as she tried to reassure him. No, I just need to know the details. Maybe I
can find a pattern or a trigger, something we can use to bring her out. I am under no disillusions that what she has
made you do is anything less than horrific, but I must know. She gave a heavy sigh. Perhaps we should go away
from here, back to the river perhaps? Into clear space. I assume it all happens here in the Keep?
Everything inside him relaxed with her negative. He couldn't begin to imagine the things he'd done, and performing
something like that with her here. As she shouted into the room, his eyes darted about, as if expecting whatever it was
to come out to face them. He was actually a little surprised nothing happened.
~Oh? Now she wants to know of what you've done. Tell her, and see if she stays at your side. Tell her, mortal, and
watch her face dissolve into horror as she recoils from you. You'll never get your hands on her now. But I'm here...~
It was like nails scratching at his mind, and he found himself looking at her with wide eyes. "Not here." The words
were spoken in a low whisper. "Please, not here." Gulping he shook his head. "Let me dress, and we'll leave here. If I
must be forced to describe these visions, then I'll do it elsewhere. But I will not go to the river, either. Not... Not where
we met." The whisper remained, weaker still. "The temple. The worst is there."
Ilmar nodded in understanding. Such little touches of sentimentality were good signs, meaning he was not yet lost to
the darkness.
"Very well, but I wish to see this temple of yours, if I may. If it is the worst, then perhaps the portal is weakest there. I
must see it though." She picked up her clothes from the bed. "I um, need to dress too." She looked around for another
room or something where she could put on her dress.

He was thoroughly ashamed of the idea of her seeing this place where he'd done so much in the dark, where he'd
committed the worst crimes. Oh, torture and death were different. What happened in the temple was an atrocity.
"The screen." He nodded toward the corner. There was light enough through the filmy curtain, but she'd have privacy.
"I'll stay to this side and dress. Then we'll go." When she was safely behind the screen, he laid the robe aside, donning
the breeches and shirt, both of charcoal grey, the shirt somewhat shiny. The pale grey tunic was pulled on, the silvery
stays fastened at the chest, the black leather belt in place. Black boots matched it all. His dark gold hair was combed
with his fingers and left to fall about his shoulders as it would.
He was standing ready when she reappeared, his chest heavy with what he had to do.
Ilmar went behind the screen and quickly dressed, her dress all black hugging her elven form in all the right places.
A silver chain belt fastened about her slender waist, one end hanging long down the middle in the traditional style.
Tight fitting sleeves clung to her arms, flared at the wrists and trimmed with just the slightest bit of black lace.
She slipped into her black shoes with a low, wide heel and emerged, running her slender fingers through her coal
black hair, though it wasn't really necessary. She looked immaculate as always. After all, she was one of the Ainur.
A smile greeted him when she finally emerged, her eyes roving up and down his striking figure. "You look so very
handsome," she complimented him, she, too, dreading what they were about to do.
Immaculate indeed. She emerged an absolute vision. Where she took in his appearance, he was lost in hers. All that
darkness highlighted both her fine skin and those blazing emerald eyes. He'd never get enough of those.
~Drink it all in now, you sentimental fool. She'll be gone when this tour is done. She'll not touch you, knowing what
you've done.~
I would not touch me, where I her.
"You are so beautiful. You are never anything but beautiful. Come." His hand went out for hers. He had to do this
before it was too late, before he could turn around and go back on it all, slip back into the grasp of Ungoliant, or
whatever it was that held sway over his life.
The temple was a round complex, with an altar in the centre. One side was closed in, a grand mural on it of a goddess,
one beautiful and serene. The colours were bright, basic but lovingly done. The altar itself was stone, some faded
design on it, where only the moon phases could still be seen. Wherever one stood, they would have a prime view of the
altar.
"I have worshipped here for nearly twenty years. I was the one who commissioned the painting. I don't know what it
was used for before I came here, but I changed it to suit my needs. I was here this morning." And felt nothing. He'd
felt no presence, no watcher, nothing to take control of his mind and hands.
"Ilmar... I am not one to beg, but I must--" His voice broke. "Don't make me do this."
The maia drank in her surroundings, making note of all the different elements she saw. The altar stone seemed to be
some kind of homage to Tilion, the maia who carried the moon across the sky, forever chasing the Lady Arien who
carried the sun in a cage built by Aul. It seemed a fair enough place and felt like a chapel of some kind. But it did not
feel the same as the bedroom. She felt no evil presence here.
As he spoke, her attention focused back on him, especially when he begged.
Oh, Maldor, you don't have to do anything, just tell me exactly what you do and what reactions you get, if any. I need
to know these things so I know upon what exact area to focus our efforts. Please, just this once. I have promised I will
not run out on you. Remember, I have seen far worse than even you can imagine with Melkor.
Don't make me say it.
His eyes closed, and though he trembled, he forced himself forward. "The full moon... It's not every time, but maybe
twice a year. It is so easy to find a young woman, and it matters not if she'd pure. It's better if she is."
He could remember the last one, her tears when he kept her locked in the dungeon cell. She begged, she pleaded, she
tried to bargain with him. She offered herself freely, if he'd only let her go afterwards. And he'd laughed at her! He'd
toyed with her mind, telling her exactly why she was being kept.

On the night of the full moon, he'd led her to the altar, chained and struggling. The chains were looped through the
metal rounds in the corners of the altar, and she was secure. Her blood would eventually cleanse the altar, recharge the
living force within that would see him through another half year.
Kneeling in front of the altar, Maldor struggled through the story. "When the moon was brightest, highest, I took her
and used her, the words of the rite spoken over her all through it." Tears slipped from beneath dark lashes. "She was
pure, and she died right here. I cut her, letting her bleed a little at a time, and just when the peak was in sight, I
opened her throat and watched her die." His fist came down on the stone. "Her life was spent in the time it took for me
to come out of the haze of climax."
He didn't open his eyes, but laid his head against the cold stone. "Do not come near me, Ilmar. Don't. I don't know
what I'll do...and I am not worthy of your presence!"
Ilmar listened, forcing herself to remain expressionless. She had indeed seen and heard of worse, but to hear it from
his own lips all the evil things he had done and with relish, it did indeed make her skin crawl. It was important for her
to keep reminding herself that it wasn't Maldor that chose to do those things, but the influence of Ungoliant. She was
ultimately responsible, but not he. Still.. those hands that had touched her, the lips that had tasted hers had done the
same with those he had murdered in cold blood, their fear and terror feeding the monster within. She looked at him,
still kneeling there, imagining it all in her mind. What if she was wrong? What if he was responsible for his actions?
Would he be capable of doing the same to her?
For the first time since she arrived, she felt afraid of him.

Maldor... please, rise. It's all in the past. We're only concerned with the future.
For almost twenty years, he'd believed himself the one in control, the one living for the deep darkness that had held
his heart and mind. He'd been so sure it was all he was, after growing up knowing he'd never be good enough for
anyone. His father made sure he knew his place, which was below everyone else, especially that man. He'd all but
hated the poor boy, forcing him to flee his home at a young age. His delving into pagan rites led others to force him
from the White City. Here, in the wasteland, the barren and open country where nothing reigned, he lived alone. There
was no one to bother him, and the few tried regretted it. How many lives had ended on these lands?
Thankfully, very few had ended in the manner he'd just described. But he knew the damage was done. Not only to
himself, not only to the region around him, but to Ilmar and her vision of him.
It was the fault of whatever lurked in the shadows, waiting to break through and wreak havoc on whatever light
remained.
Wasn't it?!
What if it's really me?
At first, he shook his head, but in the end, he forced himself to his feet, slow to face her. He didn't want to, not
wanting to see the look of revulsion on her face. The look he knew had to be there.
"You shouldn't be here. Whatever fight you feel you must make, you are not obligated. Leave! While you can." He
wanted to push her away, make her want to leave--if she did not already feel that--but at the same time, he was simply
ashamed, and afraid for her.
And found himself wishing she would comfort him. But he wouldn't let her anyway. He took a deep breath.
"Whatever it takes, this must end."
Ilmar nodded in agreement, as he rose to his feet yet would not meet her gaze. If he would only look at her he would
see no revulsion she was very careful to keep that down but only compassion, determination and perhaps a little
pity.
Stepping forward, she grabbed his wrists and held up his hands, her eyes glowing with an inner light.. starlight.
These are the hands that have wrought so much pain to others and caused so much darkness to be spread across this
land. And yet they have also been gentle and caring since I arrived. I believe these hands can be cleansed, that the
light within you can wash them of sin. With the banishment of the darkness so too goes these stains. With that she
brought each hand to her lips in turn and kissed the palms, her lips extraordinarily hot upon his skin.
We shall have victory, Maldor. We shall put a stop to this madness.

He was almost afraid of what she would do when she took hold of his wrists. Would she shackle *him* and lock him
away until all could be settled and he might be saved in some way? Would she push him away? It didn't matter. When
her eyes glowed as they did, he was frozen in place. He couldn't look away, but was terrified at first. Her words
changed that. He dissolved into tears.
"How can you believe that? How can you--" He gasped with the feel of her lips on his palms. Would she seek to brand
him? Then do so! Let her mark him as hers and of the light, if it might save his soul.
"Ilmar... Please. I swear, I will not hurt you. I'll keep my promise. But let this be done. I want it over. I want it over..."
When it was done, he'd have the bed removed and burned, and the temple altar would be destroyed. If he made it
through, he would see a change to everything.
"Tell me what to do, Ilmar. How do we fight this? Let the battle be done."
She took him in her arms, holding him tightly to comfort him and herself as she wracked her brain to try and answer
his question. For, quite frankly, she had no idea how to keep her promise to him; no idea how to lure Ungoliant or
Wirilom out or how to kill her. When she had attacked Morgoth back in the early times and nearly killed him, Ilmar
had been with her mother, Varda, attending to the stars as was her first duty as a maia. She would have to read the
accounts of that battle, or ask someone who would know. Perhaps her father, Manw, would tell her. Either way,
something had to be done. The 'Old Spider' and her Web of Unlight could not be allowed back in this world.
Shhh, Maldor, it will be all right. I promise. We are not without our own weapons, and, we are in the light. I may
have to go away for a bit and ask someone of the past, how she was defeated before for I was not there when she and
Morgoth destroyed the Two Trees so long ago. You are familiar with the story? She looked into his eyes, wiping the
tears from his cheeks once more.
'We are in the light...'
I wonder, am I? Am I now for having told her everything? For showing her how I feel about my life?
He was probably holding on to her too tightly, but in some way, he was holding on for dear life. For the first time, he
wished the herbal magick he knew was something much stronger, to aid in this fight. All he had was his sword, but he
was good with it. Sadly, something told him this would be more of a mental war for him than anything else. It would
probably be left to Ilmar to do most of this...and now, he was terrified for her.
"The Two Trees..." He breathed the words and nodded. "I know the general details, but it has been years since I heard
the old stories. I was still living in..." One hand rose, taking her wrist to keep her hand against his cheek. "I was still
in Minas Tirith."
Ilmar nodded and gave him a gentle smile. In the beginning, when the earth was formed and the fires of Melkor
extinguished, Aul forged two great lamps, one in the north and one in the south, to which my mother added light to
provide light for the world. When Melkor destroyed these, Yavanna, Aul's wife, sang into existence two trees, one of
gold the other of silver and, watered by Nienna's tears, they provided the light for the world. But ever-jealous Melkor
wanted to destroy these too. He and Ungoliant formed an alliance that with her Unlight they snuck in and Melkor
struck them down and She devoured what light and life was left. Again, Yavanna sang and Nienna wept but they only
succeeded in reviving the last flower which became the moon, and the last fruit which became the sun. They were
assigned to two lesser maiar, Tilion for the moon, and Arien for the sun. But it is said that the only true light of the
two trees resided in the Silmarils created by Feanor, some of which were owned now by Melkor. Oh how I hated those
things! It was all he cared for. And when Ungoliant learned he had them, she wanted them, but of course he refused.
This was when she became furious and attacked him with her web of Unlight. She paused for a moment, as if
remembering something. Something that could possibly be of use.
Melkor was nearly dead and with what he was sure would be his last breath, he cried out such a cry that still echoes
in the region if you listen carefully. This called forth his creatures of shadow and fire, the Balrog of Angband. Driven
by their long grudge against Ungoliant and the urge to aid their master, they burst upon the scene with their whips
forged in the living flame of the furnaces of Udn and destroyed the web and freed Melkor, the remnants of the web
striking her and sending her reeling off in pain. Hmmmm. That gives me an idea.
There was greater detail in Ilmar's telling of the tale, and it was strange to hear it from someone who had been there
for some of the events. The Silmarils were not something he wanted to see. He'd dreamed of them as a child,
wondering what they would look like, and later grew to understand the stories, knowing such things were beyond all
comprehension. To cause such great darkness to arise and seek power...

Then he remembered Ungoliant. The drawings he'd seen came back to him, and he realised what they faced.
I will not survive this!
A sword would not save his life, but maybe the light Ilmar had found in him would help.

"I have heard of the Balrog, but such a beast cannot be found again today to fight her." Nor could they bend it to their
will.
What was her idea?
And what were the odds of making it work against such evil?
At his words, Ilmar grinned an almost wicked grin. Though she was pure and completely in the light, that grin gave
a hint at what a truly powerful beauty she could be were she to succumb to the darkness.
"Oh but I can easily find a Balrog, my darling. I did not sit idly by during my stay in Angband and Utumno. The
problem is I need to find a whip forged in the never-extinguishing forges of Udn. I'm not sure if we'd have time to get
one made, or if you would be safe here on your own whilst it was being forged." She sighed again and leaned against
Maldor for comfort and support.
"I think the first thing we should do is prepare another room, away from that one, but not too far, in which to sleep.
We should not stay in there again. No doubt that will anger her and an angry spider makes mistakes."
Even in darkness, she would be irresistible. He would be drawn, unable to stay away from those green eyes that
flashed, and the sweet lips that could make a man weep for want.
Her words were confusing. Surely a Balrog was impossible to find now. There were stories of the defeat of the last, and
there was the matter of taming it. It was impossible! But if she said so, then he must believe her. His arms closed about
her in a strong embrace, one meant to reassure her. "I could do it." He spoke softly. "I could manage here alone. I did
poorly in the past, but I could do it now." He didn't like the idea of having to see her leave, even temporarily, but he
could do it.
"There is another room, in the opposite hallway, that I could set up for you. It may not be beautiful, or as well
furnished, and it is smaller, but it will suffice." Despite the implication, he planned a sleeping space for himself in the
tower room. After all she'd heard, she'd not want him near her. That was understandable.
But would it matter if they were apart, and would the spider know the difference?
Of course Ungoliant would know, she seemed to know most things, especially if they came from Maldor's mind where
she had set up residence, which is why Ilmar did not reveal her one dark ability to turn herself into a Balrog. So,
no, that was no problem for her, and probably why she had been the one sent. But she would need a weapon of some
kind. The whip had worked before but there was no time.
She closed her eyes, lost in thought as her head pressed against his shoulder, when his words brought her out of her
reverie.
What? No, us, I said us. We must remain together for I don't know what she'll do to you if left alone. And this was
the truth. It was only a matter of time before she realises Ilmar's special power and tries to come through before
they're ready. Which makes the maia wonder why the foul spirit has not tried to break through before? Perhaps it's
Ilmar's spirit that is needed to complete the process?
She shook her head and brought a hand up to rub her forehead. I wish I knew exactly what to do to banish her forever
and keep you safe, she sighed.
If she knew most everything, then it was dangerous for him to think of his feelings toward Ilmar. From the
beginning, he'd been drawn to her, and as the hours passed, that caring grew. If she knew most everything, then she
would know now that he was questioning everything from the last twenty years, all his actions, all his crimes. He was
questioning which had been her, and which had been himself.
She'd know he was beginning to resign himself to the idea that he'd die in this battle.
As long as Ilmar was safe...

"If you would trust me, then I'll stay with you, and we will see what she does."
As she pondered, he gently took her hand to bring it to his chest, over his heart.
"We will focus on defeating her. My safety is not a factor in this. Whatever the end will be for me, I would have this
creature gone, so she will never have the chance to prey on another."
His words brought a bright smile to her face. Do you hear yourself, Maldor? What you are saying? Do you think you
would ever have said such things a few days ago? As she looked at him... really looked at him, she could see the light
within him growing stronger. He was not falling into defeat as he seemed to think, but emerging from the gloom,
blinded by what he had been so long denying. There was hope for him yet just like Ilmar always believed.
Let us go and prepare our room, have a meal and think. Do you have a library? Or must we go seek information
elsewhere?
She was right. His eyes darted past her as he thought it over. She was right! In some ways, he was terrified of the
unknown, the bright world ahead that he was inching toward, from the grey and gloom he'd lived in for so long. For a
moment, he stared, then brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.
"Thank you." For without her, he would not be on this road.
He had to think. "I've a very small library off the dining room. If you want, begin there, and I'll see the preparations
for the room are begun. If you choose to have a hand in that, by all means do so. I will take nothing from my own
chamber in there."
He kept hold of her hand on the walk back to the main building and inside, where he called to Jenlo and began
instructions.
Next Ilmar wanted to go to the library to see if she could find any information at all on ways Ungoliant could possibly
be brought through the gateway and how they might defeat her. She knew it was a long shot but worth a try. During
this whole time, she didn't let Maldor out of her sight, nor even her reach. She knew it was vitally important that he
not be left alone at the mercy of that thing in his head.
As they entered the library, the maia looked around. If you could perhaps point me in the right direction? Any books,
say, on history, particularly the first age?
The servants looked at him funny. There were whispers and he knew they saw the change in his behaviour. While
working on the new bedroom, one said Ilmar was a good influence on him. Another said it was a ruse, and their
master would probably unleash all hell within the place by the next morning. Jenlo simply did his work. He speculated
nothing, and waited to see what would happen because of this new lady. Whoever she was, he liked her. Knowing
nothing about her, he liked her.
Inside the library, Maldor sighed. It wasn't much. Only a small room lined with bookshelves, most of which were
empty.
"They're probably toward the back, where no one's touched anything for some time." He used to read. He used to read
more than just spell and ritual writings. Over the last few years, he'd left off, hiding away in the tower where the bulk
of his book collection sat.
With a very large tome on the history of all Arda.
He knew it was there. It had been sitting in that room for as long as he'd been doing his studying there!
But Ilmar seemed intent on staying close to him, indeed keeping him within reach at all times. Surely, for one book,
it wouldn't matter if he went off alone. There was no reason for them both to go, and it was only to the tower and back.
He'd wait until she found a book and began reading, then slip away.
He'd been living in this castle for years.
He could handle being alone, whatever being was trying to reach him.
Thank you, she said as she headed for the back, finding the shelves he had indicated. She wasn't really sure what
she was after, but somehow knew she'd know it when she saw it. She glanced up as Jenlo came in, asking if they
would like anything.

Some tea or something to drink would be nice, she answered, pushing a volume back in its place on the shelf. If
that's all right with you, she hastily looked to Maldor, forgetting for a second that this was his place. Just then a book
catches her eye and she pulls it out. It is a book on ancient weapons. She carries it to a small table where she sits and
starts to look through it.
"You are lady of the Keep right now. It may not be a grand place, but you've the freedom to do as you please." And so
he nodded to Jenlo to bring what she asked for, with wine for himself. An absent kind of request, his mind elsewhere.
Like her, he searched for books, appearing choosy about the title he pulled to leaf through. One was put back, a second
laid aside to be looked at later. When she became absorbed in the weapons book, he silently moved for the door, taking
the chance.
He was gone in seconds.

~Nicely done. Come to me.~

I'm busy. I am not coming for you.
~Hmm... You know I like your temper, little fool. Will you sleep in the chair again tonight? Or show her who runs this
pile of rocks?~
Be silent!
He took the stairs two at a time, but finding the book proved harder than he expected. The stacks neatly piled beside
the table and on it were gone through as he searched.
~What has you sneaking around? Maybe a book on knots. You can tie her down. Maybe something about your potions?
Drug her and take her.~
"I will not listen to you."
~You are mine, you fool. MINE!!~
A high-pitched shrieking filled his mind, taking over everything. His hands covered his ears until he realised it wasn't
from the outside. It drove him to his knees as he gritted his teeth and tried to shut it out. A cascade of books fell to the
floor all around him as the sound grew louder, and louder.
Huddled on the floor, trembling, his head searing with the pain of the sound, he broke down and let out a wild cry...
Ilmar was absorbed in the book on ancient weapons, finding references to many legendary ones as well, such as
Grond, the great warhammer used by Morgoth Bauglir, and the whips used by the Balrog. She was busy searching
through it for more references on the Balrog in particular when Jenlo arrived with the drinks.
She looked up to say something then realised... Maldor was not there.
Instantly she sensed something wrong. She left the book on the table and rose to her feet, bidding Jenlo to leave the
tray and follow her. She exited the library and looked around, up and down the corridor wondering where he could
have gone. Then they both heard a blood-curdling cry.
That came from the tower, m'lady, Jenlo exclaimed, clearly shaken by the sound which he recognised as his master's
voice.
Ilmar nodded and gathered up her skirts. Come with me! She ran to the tower, so fast Jenlo struggled to keep up.
The sight that greeted her made her blood run cold.
Maldor! The maia rushed over and knelt by his side, grabbing his wrists, she pried his hands from his ears which
were now tattered and bloody as it seemed as if he had tried to rip his ears off with his bare hands. Oh, Maldor, what
have you done? I told you not to leave my presence!
He was oblivious to the world around him, lost in fear and pain, unaware of what he was doing. He didn't feel the pain
from tearing at his ears, didn't feel the blood on his hands. He didn't hear the feet on the stairs, didn't even hear
Ilmar's voice when she entered the room. All he heard, all he knew, was the unending shriek in his ears, in his head.

Tears gathered in his eyes, his throat raw from the scream that broke loose, and he rocked forward and back. He was
almost laying on the floor by the time she and Jenlo arrived, shaking madly. The moment her hands touched his, the
sound stopped, leaving him in a world that seemed silent, a world dominated by pain.
"It was only a book." He repeated a words a time or two, his voice as shaky as the rest of him. "I don't know. I could
not seem to stop. She was in my head. I wouldn't listen to her. She's angry...oh gods, so angry." He spent a moment
breathing, just breathing, then whispered, "I have never heard anything so loud."
In spite of the blood, Ilmar held him in her arms, trying to calm him and give him as much comfort as she could.
It's all right now, Maldor. I'm here now and I am not going to let you out of my sight again! She motioned for Jenlo,
who was still in the doorway, horrified, to run and fetch towels or something for his ears, so they could help him back
to the bathroom to clean and bandage the wounds.
When he returned, she held one towel to his ear and helped him up, letting Jenlo do the same to the other. Together,
they guided Maldor to the bedroom he'd had prepared and tended to his wounds.
You know what she is capable of now, meleth. Please, listen to me in future on this. It's for your own good.
Taking care to keep his bloody hands away from her, he wrapped his arms around her and held on, shamelessly
sobbing.
"I couldn't stop. I did not want to be here alone." Indeed, he'd thought of the book, knowing it was up here, but he
hadn't intended to come up. The creature had obviously heard his thoughts. Trembling, he waited, letting them guide
him to his feet, walking between them woodenly.
This room was much brighter than the last. Instead of shades of grey and black, it was splashed with pearl grey, white,
and gold. He'd wanted it to be a complete opposite of the other room.
"I didn't mean to..." He repeated the words over and over before falling silent, doing nothing but breathing. By the
time Ilmar spoke again, he was calmer, his voice more even. "It was a shrieking in my head, so loud, such as I have
never heard before. I swear, I can still hear it, though it is only my imagination now." Swallowing, he was thoughtful.
"She heard me. I knew there was a book in the tower that would be helpful, and suddenly I could not stop the need to
get away and go find it." His eyes rose to Ilmar.
"She is indeed jealous. She is trying to convince me to hurt you, and when I said I would not listen, she was enraged.
And then...everything turned to pain."
And she will continue to do so until we stop her. But she won't attack you when I'm around. Why? Haven't you
wondered? There must be a reason. Maybe your resolve is too strong when I'm around? Or perhaps the presence of the
Maia Chief prevents her? Ilmar shook her head as Jenlo returned with hot water and clean bandages.
Tenderly, she cleaned the wounds to his ears which looked worse than it was, thank goodness, for ears bleed quite
profusely when cut or scratched. As she worked, she turned to Jenlo and asked if he could possibly go and retrieve the
book from the Tower. He was frightened at first, but Ilmar reassured him that the attacks were only meant for Maldor
and they came from within through his mind. It's perfectly safe, she told him. I must stay with your master at all
times. He nodded and hurried off to see if he could find it.
We should stay in here for now, meleth, she said as she finished dressing his ears. You need to rest and I need to
think.
"There is no telling. This may only have been the first attack. It has always simply been a takeover, me acting like
someone else, as I did to you earlier. That, she will do, and I fear she may again. She seems desperate for me to force
you into bed...that bed."
Which should be burned.
~Now you fight me, mortal? Shall we repeat the latest exercise?~
Nothing was mentioned about the words in his head. He sat quiet while she tended to him, saying nothing of the attack
or the pain that stung from his superficial wounds. He barely moved, terrified to think, but unwilling to show even
more fear than he had already. It was embarrassing.
'Stop crying, Maldor. Men don't cry, so grow up.'

I was seven years old. The streets are stone, and I tripped. It was a bad fall, on a sloping portion. My hands and knees
were scraped, as was my cheek. But he had no feeling about it. I was just a failure for feeling.
His voice was soft when he finally spoke again.
"'Meleth'... What does it mean?"
It is Elvish, Sindarin for the term of endearment 'love', as in what's bothering you, love? she answered with a soft
smile as she finished tying off the last bandage. She knew he was afraid. She could feel it in the tenseness of his
muscles and sense it from his mind easily, and she didn't blame him one bit, for even Ilmar was afraid of what they
would inevitably have to face. The question was how? There was no way he could fight her within his mind; he was
only a human, and in spite of his delusions of being a magician, he would never survive. Ungoliant was just too
strong.
But there had to be a way. There just had to. Of course Ilmar could just leave Maldor to her mercy, or even kill him
and thus hopefully close off this escape route. But that was not Ilmar. Maldor had been used nearly all his life and
treated like something less than he was. No, she would do whatever it took to free him of this curse and give him the
opportunity to be who he always thought he could be. A chance to walk in the light.
He nodded his understanding of her explanation, but refused to say anything about the Elvish word. This he was still
clinging to, though Ilmar was wearing that down, too. He did wish, though, that she would share her thoughts. She'd
gone quiet, and he knew she was working trying to formulate a plan to fight Ungoliant.
"Is there some way for me to mentally fight her? To go...into her realm and battle her?" Something like astral
projection. Dangerous, but not impossible. He'd never been able to reach that state before. His meditation had always
been interrupted, and now he knew why.
Even he knew that, if he was sacrificed in this battle, Ungoliant would only find another to use. But he was willing to
fight right to death if he needed to. He admitted to himself that he was terrified, but said nothing out loud.
~Be afraid, mortal. Be afraid to settle at night, when I'll be in your nightmares. Be afraid to get close to someone
because I will see their end at your hands. The full moon is coming...~
"No..."
What? Ilmar looked up from where she was washing her hands in the basin of water. Confusion crossed her face
until she suddenly realised. She is speaking to you again, isn't she?
She hated when he went quiet too, knowing he would rather stay silent than worry her with his thoughts. But she
would rather he shared with her and told him as much.
When she speaks to you, tell me what she says, word for word. She may say something you don't understand but that
I will. She took his hands in hers and led him to the new bed, sitting down beside him, trying to give him some sort
of comfort. There was no sense of anything with this bed. It was just that, a bed.
Her question got a nod of his head. It wasn't until they sat on the bed that he began to talk.

"She is warning me to fear her, that she will be in my nightmares, to be afraid to get close to anyone as she will use me
to kill again. And..." His voice dropped. "The full moon is coming. I think she means to try the rite, though it would
not be 'time' for it.." Ungoliant heard his thoughts in the other room as they dressed to visit the temple. Realisation
closed in, sickeningly vivid and clear. There was no doubt in his mind. Standing, he turned to face her.
"She means it to be you, Ilmar. She means for you to be the next one." His stomach turned, forcing him to swallow
carefully. "I'll kill myself before that happens." Rather than show fear as he did earlier, he stood firm, forcing down
revulsion and grasping anger and determination. "When this is over, I will burn this whole place."
Ilmar shook her head, raven locks rippling in the light. There will be no need, Maldor, for it is not this place she
inhabits, but inside your mind. And I will do everything in my power to protect that. She smiled wistfully and tapped
his head with her finger, before flattening her hand and running it along his cheek coming to rest upon his jaw. And
as for me being her next victim, I would like to see her try! She must not know who I am to be so bold. Perhaps her
perception is still veiled within that limbo she is in? Or perhaps you have not yet realised just who or what I am and so
she only accepts your interpretation? Either way it gives us the advantage. She wants me? Then let her come and take
me!

Her smile as she finished was bright and hopeful, her emerald eyes fiery with determination. She would not be
dissuaded nor would she allow any harm to befall Maldor. Believe it or not, she had come to care for him even in such
a short time.
"She will attempt to do it." Even as he turned into her touch, his look said he wished she hadn't said that. For her own
safety. Whoever and whatever she was, she was still in danger. Maldor had meant his words. He would end his own
life before allowing himself to be made to hurt her. Would the attacks become routine? Would he be made to endure
that same shrieking as in the tower?
And if she is in my mind, she was there and part of every moment we had this morning, not just when she'd tried to
break through. No, she'd been there through it all, and that made those minutes spent in the beginning of passion's
play seemed almost cheapened. Exploited. He wanted them back, wanted them untouched.
Dropping back to his seat on the bed beside her, he sighed heavily. "It is frustrating, being unable to do anything now.
I would rather get this over with. And I would rather a foe I could fight with a sword, not head games."
Ilmar slipped her arm around his waist in back and leaned her head against his arm. I know, I know. Perhaps there
would be a way to bring her out to fight her physically? Perhaps giving her what she wants is the only way to defeat
her? Let her come through and meet us on our own grounds. It may be the only way.
With a heavy sigh that belied her determination, Ilmar closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind so that she could
think properly. Why did she not attack him when they were together? Because she wanted them together so she could
complete her process of entering the physical world once more. But at the same time the beast was insanely jealous of
her, why? If her intent was to get Maldor to kill her, why should she be jealous?
Because we are closer than a mere master and victim perhaps? Real emotions confuse and anger her? she spoke this
last part out loud.
"And if we are unsuccessful, she is unleashed on all Middle-earth." He shook his head slowly. It didn't sound like a
good chance to take. Instead, he focused on how she sat. The feel of her arm around him, of her head against his arm,
was comforting, and something of a reminder of the morning, when she'd been just as close, and closer.
"What do you mean?" Real emotions? Did it have something to do with feeding off fear, or his determination to finally
fight back? Was it rage because he'd been shown that something else was controlling him and he was now rebelling?
He focused on the second question, though it was just one thing more left unanswered. There would be no making
sense of Ungoliant's reactions and rage no matter how they tried.
I mean... I'm not sure what I mean, to be honest. Like, you were so focused on what we were doing that she couldn't
get a foothold in your mind and it was like we shut her out. I think that is what she doesn't like. She lost control of you
for that brief time we were.. well, you know... she blushed slightly as she gave Maldor a subtle grin, remembering the
kiss and other urges of earlier that morning.
A soft 'ahem' came from the doorway, Jenlo stood there holding a large, thick, dusty tome. I believe this is what you
were seeking, master?
"Oh..." Of course! His dark brows rose with the explanation, and a thought told him her point was right. "I never
heard her once during that time. My focus was elsewhere." The look and the blush brought a warmer look to his own
face, his hand rising to stroke her cheek. The memory was still fresh, as was the desire.
But it would have to wait. His eyes rose toward the door with Jenlo's return. Dropping his hand, he rose to take the
book from his servant. Looking it over for a moment, his eyes lit up.
"Yes! This is it. Thank you, my friend." The poor old guy was so confused, but smiling, as he turned to leave, closing
the door behind him. Maldor was brushing the dust from the book as he came back to her.
"I've never seen a more extensive history than this. It probably tells everything, about everyone." Beside her, he offered
the book. "I know we're both aware of the information we seek, but I somehow feel I have much to learn from you."
She watched him with concern as he retrieved the book from Jenlo and dismissed him. If the beast could make him
nearly rip his ears off like that, what else could she make him do? Ilmar refused to admit that it frightened her a little,
but it did. She was pretty sure she would make it all right, she was Ainu after all. But she wasn't so sure about Maldor.
She knew he was responsible for many innocent and cruel deaths, but at the same time her heart broke for him to be
used for so long by that creature of pure darkness. He never knew happiness or love his whole life. The light had
always been held just out of his reach.

As he sat down beside her once more on the bed, Ilmar moved closer, right up against him, and pulled the open book
over half onto her own lap. With keen interest, she began to study the book along with him.
If this battle ended his life, so be it. He was willing. If anything, he'd learned that much from watching the soldiers
and riders, the men who risked their lives for the safety of Gondor. He'd admired them as a child, and grew up with
the knowledge that sometimes a sacrifice was necessary for the greater good.
This might be his sacrifice.
The one regret, standing apart from the untold lists of his crimes, that would go with him into the next life was that he
would never have the chance to find someone to love. He was beginning to see what Ilmar had been talking about,
how love simply was, that giving of yourself and having it returned felt good. Having someone felt good.
But it was only with your arrival that I began to understand that.

~You care for her now?! Oh, this will be so much fun. Is this why you hesitate? Is it?! Why wait? It's what you want.~
A turn of the page revealed a picture of Ungoliant herself, and Maldor leaned back ever so slightly. "That? That
creature is what I hear?" This was the creature devouring the light surrounding The Keep and the people who lived
closest to it? Who Ilmar suggested was taking over the bodies of the women he'd attacked in order to feel him?
Jaw tight, he glared at the picture, glad for Ilmar's closeness. But he did not speak the words he wanted to, didn't
even think them.
It would mean his death to do so.
But Ilmar wasn't giving up hope just yet. She flipped through the book, making a face at the illustration of Ungoliant.
That is nothing like her. She is ten times bigger for one thing, and far far uglier. She knew the creature would be
listening and hoped to anger her more. In Ilmar's experience, an angry enemy was one that made mistakes. Anger,
contrary to popular belief, and something Melkor never understood, is a weakness. But yes, that's her, foul beast.
Quickly she flipped past the page then rifled through to find the section on weapons. There must be one of these
ancient weapons forged in Gondolin or better still kicking about. If we could find one of them you could use it on her
when we draw her out. Together we just might do this. She pressed harder against Maldor in order to see the other
pages which were mostly on his lap, in effect hugging him, her hair just beneath his chin as she perused the tome.
Ten times bigger. And uglier.
The rage that went on in his head made it hurt so bad he was sure he'd be sick. But it was sheer will that led him to
focus on the weapons.
"Yes. Together." It was hard to speak at all, hearing that voice scream in its seething anger inside his head, where the
sound couldn't escape...and neither could he. The smallest plaintive sound tore from him.
Her hair smelled sweet, her warmth was intoxicating...
He let the book fall to the floor, turning instead to grasp her arms, pull her in, and claim her mouth in a kiss so
demanding, he even startled himself. He hoped madly that she would understand a great reason why he did it. To
anger Ungoliant even more, and maybe shut her out of his mind for a short while, let him recharge in the quiet.
Shifting to the side, he began to lay her back on the bed, not letting the kiss end, but rather slanting it further.
As the book fell, it fell open to a two page spread of various weapons, but this went unnoticed in the action that
ensued. Surprised, for one instant Ilmar was afraid that he was attacking her, Ungoliant working through him having
had enough of their plotting. But no, it was soon apparent what he was doing. If her theory was right, that is. She
relaxed and let him manipulate her body, lips and tongue answering his as she grew excited in spite of herself.
Maldor... she whispered reclaiming use of her lips for only a moment. Be careful.. your ears. Always concerned
for him, always selfless even in the throes of passion.
The weapons could wait. And so could their foe, whose rage dimmed ever so slightly with the feel of Ilmar's mouth
under his own. He wanted to scream for the want deep down inside, which would go unfulfilled forever. So be it.
Maldor felt how tense she was, and knew why, but when she relaxed and responded, he relaxed, his hand sliding down
her slim form.

"Shhh, forget that." Never mind his self-inflicted injuries. Never mind everything. Her mouth was his again. "We left
off this morning...here." That hand slid up her thigh again, as before, slow and with just enough curl to his fingers he
could pull the fabric of her dress up, almost to her hip.
Part of Ilmar was worried whether this was the best thing to be doing at the moment, but another part of her was
screaming out for it, mostly the physical fana she wore. It craved that hand of his to continue its journey beneath her
dress, to feel all of him everywhere.
She did know what he was doing: he was trying to silence the voice inside, stop the torment and taunting. Her lips curl
into a smile, bright green eyes half-lidded as she answered his kiss with one of her own. If it helped him to recover
and find relief, who was she to stop him? Her hands wandered up his back, to his shoulders, over them onto his chest
where she could feel his firm musculature beneath. It made her shudder.
Her concerns matched his, but he was desperate. He was utterly terrified that shriek would return and end his sanity. It
wasn't meant to seem that he was using her, for he had a true desire for her. Locked in her kiss, he sighed, groaned
with the feel of her hands on him.
The dare was made, his hand arriving at the junction of her thighs, his fingers bold.
"I won't hurt you." He whispered the words, needing to reassure her. Whatever Ungoliant's wants, he had his own, and
would serve himself rather than that hideous creature. "I'll keep my promise."
That much said, his fingers traced the soft skin between her legs, traced and slowly worked to slip deeper...
Drawing back, he shook his head. "Ilmar, I'm sorry." Sitting back a little, he sighed. "I'm sorry."
What's wrong, Maldor? What is she saying? Ilmar propped up a little on her elbows, breast heaving as she caught
her breath after the kiss. Her green orbs searched his face, but something told her it wasn't interference from the beast
this time, but his own conscience. Maldor? Please, don't shut me out now.
Her voice pleaded gently as she watched him, black hair falling back behind her head, some flowing over pale moons
that just peeked above the top of her dress. All innocence and light, that's what she was, innocence and light.
"She says nothing. Not now."
How could any man back away from a figure like that? She was perfection from her head and all that black hair down
to her toes. She was perfection down to the slick skin he'd touched only moments ago. Laying there as she did, she was
so tempting. But he couldn't escape everything in his head.
"I can't do this. I will have to endure whatever hell she unleashes inside my head." Shaking his head, he looked away.
"Ilmar, I know you will not forget what I told you in the temple any more than I will." It took everything in him to
pull his gaze back to hers.
"I have no right. No right to touch you. Not with the existence of that horror. I would not have you seeing those deaths
in your mind while I'm with you."
Ilmar laid back, sighing and bringing an arm up over closed eyes. She understood, she supposed. It was a good sign
too, that he was getting closer to the light. Then again, she knew it wasn't he who was doing these things, not really.
The thoughts to do them did not originate in his mind, his will, but Ungoliant's. Or did they. She looked at him from
beneath her arm, then moved it behind her head.
I have seen far worse in my life, believe me. But perhaps you are right. For now. She felt very disappointed and sad
all of a sudden and fought to hold back a frown or even worse, tears. I have seen entire armies decimated; woken up
to a hundred human hearts strewn at my doorstep, one of them my former lover, another his three year old daughter.
Her voice caught in her throat at this. Melkor was always extremely creative in his cruelty, even to me. Ungoliant
knows nothing.
She reached out and took his hand. But I know that she did those things through you, Maldor. They did not come
from you, did they? It is my choice as to whether I let you touch me or not, and until I see otherwise with my own eyes,
then the right is yours.
She was disappointed. He could see it, and he was torn between his own understanding and a darker annoyance. When
she began to speak, he turned to her again. Listening, he was horrified. This was the one she cried for?! She'd cried for
him while Maldor sat there feeling like the worst person to exist for so much less?

~Another failure. That's all it is, isn't it? Just a long string of your failures, at everything. The only thing you can do
right is treat that horse decently. Isn't that right? You've even failed to take this woman. It shouldn't be difficult. What
is wrong with you?!~
"Get out of my head." The words were almost inaudible at first, but as he repeated them, they grew louder. The tension
in him built until he swore he'd break teeth from his jaw being so tight.
"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Alarmed, Ilmar sat up immediately and shifted to kneel beside him, taking his hands from his head, lest he damage
himself further. Spirit of Evil, Spider of the Night, angered, her voice low and cold, she spoke directly to the beast,
knowing full well she could hear her words, leave this man alone! You have damaged him enough as it is. If you want
me, come and get me! I am here waiting! Or are you too much of a coward to do your own dirty work?
At least this time he wasn't pulling at himself. there was pain enough from the damage he'd already done. And the
creature would suffer for that. Eyes closed, he listened to Ilmar and that voice she used. Her courage was impressive.
He breathed, slow, careful, waiting for the darkness to fade and let him think. Voice low, he spoke, head lowered.
"Sometimes I think my father must have been in darkness, for I've heard his words come from this being. His hatred,
disappointment, and his bitterness. His disapproval and his lack of hope. I know she is only using my memories, but
even so..."
He went silent again, doing nothing more than breathing, trying to hold together.
Ilmar listened to his words, knowing he was probably right in his assumptions about his memories being used against
him. It was a common practice with the ones who could get into a person's mind. What better to torment someone with
than their own guilt and self-loathing, encouraged by someone who had been cruel? Her huge heart went out to him..
this man at whose hands so many atrocities had been wrought. And yet, as with Melkor, Ilmar the Maia of Starlight,
could see the tiny slivers of good in him and was determined to bring them out. Ultimately she had failed with Melkor,
but not with this one. She would not allow it. Not this time.
Sitting beside him, legs tucked beneath her, Ilmar took Maldor in her arms and held him, her pale cheek resting
against his deep golden hair. Shhhh we will defeat her and you will be redeemed. If that is what you truly want. We
just have to figure out how.
Maldor had not been born to darkness. He'd been born to parents who wanted him, his father so proud to have a son,
his mother adoring of her infant. But after his mother's death when he was no more than six, things had changed. She
was gone, and his father hated the sight of him. For the next ten years he'd done everything to beat down Maldor's
self-image until there was almost nothing left. It had only been when he'd sought refuge in the crumbling Keep that
he'd discovered darkness, shadow, and the ability to kill. Now he would have to rebuild from the ground up and
discover who he really was.
If he lived long enough.
Leaning into Ilmar's embrace, he gulped a breath. "It is more than that. It is what I need." And if there was anyone
who could figure out what they needed to do to win this war, it would be-"Ilmar...look. The weapons."
He was pointing at the open book.
Ilmar peered over the edge of the bed to look where he was pointing. It had fallen open to just the page they wanted
an illustration of all the important weapons wielded by those heroes of the past who had slain the more illustrious
allies and minions of Melkor. Releasing him, she leaned over his lap to reach down and pick up the book, setting it in
her lap to examine it.
This is just what I was looking for. A slim finger drifted along the pages, reading the small description of each one
below it, trying to remember what had happened to these weapons and whether any not only existed and were
accessible, but whether they would be any good.
Narsil, of course, was shattered. Elrond has it in a display in Rivendell. There's Dramborleg, the great axe of Tuor...
ah but it was lost in the fall of Numenor. She sighed and read on. Those two were lost, Glamdring of course belongs
to Gandalf, and Orcrist lies on Thorin's tomb. She sighed. Aeglos, the great glaive of Gil-galad, it is said the blade
melted when he was burned by Sauron and the rest buried with him. But I'm sure I've seen it somewhere. She looks
up, thoughtful as if trying to remember. I am certain that Elrond still has it.

Her every move was graceful, and he'd have to be blind not to watch her. But he was at a loss as to what she planned
to do with weapons that could not be acquired by any means. He followed her words on each, knowing the stories the
same as she did. Narsil had been the source of story and play when he was a child. He remembered running with
them, pretending the famous battle, always chided by his mother to remember what happened to Isildur.
'You can be greater than that, Maldor.'
She would be ashamed now.
Glamdring, now held by a Wizard. He knew he could wield a sword like that. To have a weapon like that would mean
any possible victory!
Her thoughtful expression brought confusion to him. "He has a thing for collecting broken weapons..." Sighing, he
had to shake his head. "How will this help us. Lost and broken weapons can do nothing against this horror. Besides, a
simple sword could not possibly help us, not if this Ungoliant is as big as you say. We could not be successful with
anything less than...magick."
She sat back and folded her arms across her shapely bosom, fixing Maldor with her glowing green eyes. Have you a
better idea then? She waited for a moment before continuing. Elrond loved his king. No doubt he would have
repaired it and now keeps it in a place of reverence. She looked at him intensely. Well, it wouldn't hurt to ask would
it?
Despite the effect she had on him with those eyes, he stared her down, doing everything to appear untouched by her
eyes. A great sigh was released.
"All right, so you would suggest calling on Elrond for help. Rivendell is not a short journey from here. Even with
Ortherion's speed..." He dropped his gaze to the book. "With your abilities, you could reach him in no time." His voice
dropped even as his eyes rose through his lashes. "You will have to learn to trust me, Ilmar. Weak as I have been, I
have dealt with this place for years. I think I can a little while longer."
Now it was Ilmar's turn to sigh, but she also nodded. True, it would be easy enough for me to go and speak to
Elrond. And no doubt before I came you could handle the evil that dwells within your mind. But now, that she is
threatened, how do you think she'll respond? I will not leave you here on your own, Maldor, she reached up and
gently touched her fingertips to his cheek. Not when we're so near to defeating her and freeing you from her grasp.
"I believed it was me. I handled nothing." The words were spoken low, in a voice that shook ever so slightly, but only
with the feeling that he'd not tried hard enough. "I have since fought back. You've seen it. Let her do what she wants, I
am not hers."
Laughter sounded in his head.
Taking her hand, he shifted it to his mouth, pressed his lips to her palm for a swift moment. "Lock me away if you
must, but you will be faster without me. Go to Rivendell, seek the information we need, but do not journey alone with
me..." His eyes widened as his voice became a whisper.
"The full moon is coming, and I do not know her reach."
Ilmar shook her head slowly the whole time he spoke, imperceptibly at first then harder until she was finally shaking
it determinedly. No, no and no. Maldor, she pleaded, taking both his hands in hers. You did not handle it before.
You nearly ripped your own ears off! I don't want to return and find you have torn yourself to pieces because of what
she's doing to you! I will take that chance and travel with you, or I will stay here and face her on my own and likely
die trying. Her eyes burned into his, meaning every word she had spoken. The last thing she wanted to do was to
leave him behind to either kill again or be killed by Ungoliant. She would need his help to defeat her here, once and
for all, lest she slink off and find someone else to control and use to purchase her entry into this world. Besides, she
had made him a promise, and Ilmar always kept her promises.
He knew she would deny him, and it angered him. But how could he argue with her? They needed to focus on the
problem.
I am the problem!

~You've become entertaining, even like this. Do you not fear my reach? You will go to Rivendell, to the Elves, and
think of the things I can do with you there!~

His heart sank. Ilmar wouldn't listen. Determined or not, he was a danger to everyone. As he'd always been, but now
he didn't see it the same way. He was no longer proud of the power he was given by instilling fear in others. Rather
than awaiting the full moon and all the strength he got from it, he feared it. He knew, until they found the means to
destroy Ungoliant, he would fear every full moon and the possibility she would demand the worst of him. Would it be
this time? The next?
"You must take every precaution, Ilmar. We endanger everyone...and I will keep my promise to you."
Ilmar could hear the anger, worry, frustration in his voice. Maybe she should do as he asks and leave him here? She
wouldn't be long if she went on her own though it might take some time to persuade Elrond to relinquish the spear,
knowing how much it meant to him.
She shrugged and sighed, looking at him. "If you are certain you can survive with her on your own..." Her voice was
still full of worry and scepticism, but she was willing to do it his way. "I just don't want to come back to bury you."
You don't trust me. You believe I will destroy everything if you go alone. You wouldn't even be happy locking me up
and taking the key without. I should force you to, so you can look at that key and wonder if I've found a way out, to
cause trouble while you're not here to hold my leash.
~You know what we will do, Maldor, if you were here alone again. And you'll smile over it as you always have. What
makes you think things will ever be any different? You're like a rebellious child who will test me until you grow out of
this phase. Send her away, make her do things our way.~
"At least make me one promise, Ilmar. You will have Elrond lock me away while we're in Rivendell. I will not
endanger his people." This was his compromise, as he realised her words meant too much to him, and he didn't look
forward to the idea of being without her.
She nodded slowly, reluctantly agreeing to his terms, but inwardly glad he would not make her leave him alone. She
could only imagine what the creature was saying to him in his mind, but she was sure it wasn't good.
"And I promise we will not stay any longer than is necessary, one night at the most. It shouldn't take that long to
convince Lord Elrond of our need. I'll even steal it if I have to!" Ilmar reached up to run her fingers through his hair
and tuck it behind an ear, her face a mask of deep concern. "What a mess, eh?"
"No, don't!" Steal? No... He would stay in a cell, windowless room, anywhere as long as was needed. Whatever
damage was done to him in the meantime would be worth it all as long as Ungoliant stayed away from everyone else,
and did not use him against them. Later, he would tell Ilmar the terms: Only one person should be charged with
seeing to his needs, and those needs were food and drink, period. He was to be left no bed or bedding, no weapons
within reach, and nothing that could be made into one. He was to be dressed down to the essentials. Nothing metal,
nothing that could be taken apart to harm someone else. No belt, no boots.
Ungoliant would be far from pleased with this decision, and if it was put into effect, he feared retaliation. Until then,
he would hold down everything in his mind. He would find a way.
Ashamed, he shied when she exposed his bandaged ear. But he nodded all the same. "I wish you were not part of this.
And yet..." Shaking his head, he remained silent. It was hopeless to tell her he cared for her. How could he not, when
she had been so determined to help him, was putting herself in harm's way--partially--for him, and had been so good
to him.
She had a feeling she knew what he would have said had he finished his thought. Carefully, she shifted and moved to
sit in his lap facing him. Then ever so gently, she took his face in her hands and stared into his eyes, before leaning in
and barely brushing her lips across his. It was as if she was trying to let him know that she trusted him, no matter
what. They had a long journey ahead of them and trust may be all they would have.
The move she made spoke volumes. He had no idea what was coming, and never would have imagined she would do
*that*. That was the moment that did it. There was no going back. His heart was set now, and if anyone would have
asked him to explain it, he couldn't. The day before, he'd been someone else. Everything about him had been different.
Now, barely twenty-four hours later, he was beginning to see the man he could have been, and Ilmar's kiss, so tender
and so light, claimed him in every way.
By reflex, his hands went to her waist, almost tentative in their touch. He made no move to go further, or to turn this
into something to mirror their moments earlier. He simply laid his hands there and stayed there. Her look brought
tears to his eyes, tears he would deny to anyone but her. They were private. And the kiss... He was hers.
Do you hear that, Ungoliant?

The kiss he gave in return, slightly deeper, but only slightly, tried to tell her so much more. 'Thank you', 'forgive me',
and 'I'm trying' were all there, but there was something else. Something he couldn't speak now.
Something he had no plan to tell her.
Her head tilted slightly in questioning silence as she held his eyes. With her gentle fingers, she brushed away the tears
that crept from the corners of his eyes. Perhaps he was being mistreated again in his mind, but no, these were not
those kind of tears. His kiss told her everything and she nodded imperceptibly in response.
Releasing his gaze, Ilmar smiled softly and laid her cheek against his shoulder, closing her eyes and letting out a
long, soft sigh, her arms now wrapping around him.
His feelings were set in place, and he knew he'd pay dearly for them, but the woman in his arms now was more than
worth the pain. His gut told him another mental attack was coming, he just didn't know when. Soon, but when? And
how bad would it be? If it was worse than the last...
What would have happened if he'd met Ilmar years ago? Would he have avoided this possession? Would he have been
free all this time? What would his life have been like?
Her head went to his shoulder and he closed his arms around her, holding her tight. His embrace was warm, strong,
and meant to be everything it would have been were their lives normal and they could have the freedom to love. He
held her protectively, wishing he could be there for her instead of the other way around. That's how it should be, the
man protecting his lady.
But she's not mine.
~And never will be.~
He steeled his spine, ignored the voice in his head, and was grateful for this moment of peace with her.
Ilmar closed her eyes and visions of all that lay before them played out in her mind. She really had no clue what to
do, and thought she should really ask someone else, one of the Valar perhaps. Her mother? Her father even, though he
was always so busy these days. He probably didn't even realise she had 'gone missing' from Valinor.
She let out another long breath as she lay against Maldor. He was warm and strong, his arms feeling so good around
her. Her grief was all but forgotten as she tried to help with his problem. As she lay with her eyes closed, her mind
began to drift, thoughts and memories all blurring together until she felt herself falling, falling but not afraid because
Maldor had her. He would protect her. Wouldn't he? Before long she was nearly asleep, too comfortable where she
was.
At least that was one thought that had not come to him. Was he just a distraction for now, to keep her mind off the
pain of losing Melkor? How could she grieve for someone like that?
How did she climb into his own lap and kiss him as if to tell him she thought him as good as anyone else, nothing
less, nothing to be forsaken?
He sat there, holding her, eyes closed. All was quiet, all was...as it should be. Why could he not have this always? He
didn't care about the somewhat uncomfortable position, didn't care about the strange room they were in, didn't care
about...anything. Just her, and being with her in this quiet moment. Gradually, he could feel her relax, and knew she
was drifting on the edge of sleep. Rather than ever think it might be rude for her to just fall asleep on him, he felt
honored. She trusted him, truly, else she'd not have allowed this.
He would stay like this, until she fell asleep.
But there was one more thing he needed to do before he could consider resting. And he needed to do it alone.

Drifting in that realm between sleeping and waking, Ilmar stood before the great spider herself. In her hand was the
great glaive of King Gil-galad, Aeglos. As the Great Evil stepped closer, hissing and sneering, her web of Unlight
danced behind her ready to surge forward and envelope the maia of Starlight. Maldor was on the ground behind
Ilmar, she having knocked him to the ground, out of the way to protect him.
~Stupid silly girl, do you think it is that pathetic human I want? No, I seek to devour all light in this world. You are
the embodiment of starlight, dim though it is, I mean to have that too!~ With a sudden, surprising leap, the great beast
flung herself towards Ilmar who held the glaive out prepared to die....

Ilmar jerked awake, looking about her as if unsure of where she was.
"Oh.. I'm so sorry, Maldor. I didn't mean to fall asleep."
"Shhh...it's alright."
He lifted a hand to gently brush at her hair, smooth fingertips against her cheek. "Look at me. Ilmar..." He turned her
face to his. It was his turn to be reassuring and protective. "You're safe. Don't apologise. It was..." He went quiet a
moment, eyes away from her. "I was quite comfortable with you like this."
Rubbing at her back with his other hand, he said, "Today has been draining for us both. We've had much to think over,
and much to...confess. Perhaps sleep is the thing we both need, and tomorrow... Well, we can leave any time you
wish."
~You can't have her. Not like this. Take her, if you want, but that is all you'll get. You'll die before you have the chance
for more. Besides, what makes you think something as low as you would deserve the heart of a maia?!~
He turned his face into her shoulder, whispering, "We must go soon."
"Yes, we will leave at first light. But we can sleep in a little while. I wish to look through that book again and, I don't
know about you, but I'm starving." She smiled at him, leaning into his hand, before placing a soft, warm kiss upon his
cheek. "Thank you for caring for me. My 'dream' was rather disconcerting. Not lightly do the dreams of the Ainur
stir."
It was true. Ainur did not 'dream' as others did. They saw glimpses of the future, or images from the past, but
everything in these visions was possible in the real world. Too bad it had ended before she saw if it was successful or
not. But one thing was encouraging... their choice of weapon. Surely it was the best one. If only she could find a whip
forged in Udun. Then she could come at her as a balrog and he could wield the spear. Something to look into. Perhaps
some of her past connections with Melkor would stand her in good stead? Perhaps they, who shared no love of
Ungoliant, would come to her aid? It was worth a shot.
"The book is yours to use as you like, and Jenlo will see to it you have a meal. I...have no taste for food now." Looking
into her eyes, he heaved a sigh. "I must go to the tower." Knowing she would surely protest, he kept spoke quickly.
"Ilmar, I need this time to myself. If I'm to face this, I need it."
His fingers brushed through her hair. "I will do all I can, I will keep my promise to you, and I will not fear the end.
Ilmar..." His voice turned to a whisper, his look intense.
"I know you trust me. I will come back to this room as I am now."
For a moment, he thought to rise, to set her on the bed and make his exit to the tower room...but if she trusted him,
then she would allow him to go. And he wanted to know, for sure...for his sake and hers.
She wasn't the only one worried. He was scared stiff, but he couldn't back down. If he did, everything would get worse,
because he would fall to his dark ways again. Standing, he turned to lean down to her, give her a long look.
"I know. I know you will be there for me."
He took the black ritual robe with him when he went, letting it sweep over the floor as he left, heading up the stairs. In
the tower room, he closed the door, lighting the white candles about the worktable. His altar lit up, glowing with the
soft golden light. He undressed, pulling the sheer robe about him, and stood before the altar, casting his circle. The
words were spoken softly, barely above a whisper, as he prayed for strength, for courage, for peace. The robe was left to
fall, and he picked up the ritual athame, holding it before him like a sword.
Looking to the statue of the Goddess, he prayed, calling on the elements for greater power. His hand closed about the
dagger, and it was drawn down, slicing his palm. Reaching out, he let the blood drip onto the statue, then wrapped his
hand about it, sliding downward.
"Do not let her come to harm. Do not let her come to her end for my sake. Even for the world, do not let her die. Give
me the strength to do what I must. Walk with me and be there when we face this evil..."
Whispers in his head began to grow, louder by the moment.
I'm not yours.

~You will die!~

Then I die. But Ilmar will not.
~She will...by your hand!~
Lies. Ilmar would win this battle. Even if Maldor didn't see the end, she would win. Closing his eyes, he spent long
minutes in silence, breathing, seeking peace inside himself. The whispers grew to shouting, screaming, and he gritted
his teeth against it, head down, body tense. He lost all sense of time and place, locked in this silent battle. He felt as if
his head would explode, but he remained in the safety of the circle.
Ungoliant subsided, her laugh low and dangerous. The circle was opened, and he set to wrapping his hand. The robe
was wrapped about him again, his legs weak as he went back to the room to collapse on the bed.
Ilmar watched him leave, not happy with leaving him to his own devices, but not having much choice either. She just
had to trust that he could fend off another attack by the foul evil that dwelled inside his mind. With a sigh, she tried to
put it out of her mind. She flipped through the book again, idly scanning the pictures until she ended up on a page
with the famed Balrogs and their coveted whips.
This was what they needed. This is what defeated her last time. She could just pop over to Lord Elrond and borrow the
glaive, but the whip would do more damage. She waited a few minutes, ready to come to Maldor's aide should she
hear any noise from the tower, but all was silent. Making her decision, Ilmar closed her eyes, and disappeared.
She reappeared in the bowels of what was left of Angband, shuddering as she had vowed never to appear here again.
Most of the creatures of Melkor's making had perished along with him. But a few still remained: dragons in the very
remotest of the far eastern mountains, the orcs and wargs, of course, which were everywhere, and a balrog or two in
the very deepest bowels of the earth. One such dwelled in Moria, but it had been slain by Gandalf.. or had it?
Finding nothing of use in Angband, she made her way to Moria, deep deep within the very depths of the earth
beneath, farther than any dwarf had ever dug. There she found the remains of the fabled balrog oft called Durin's
Bane. She sighed heavily until she spotted something in the dust. Moving quickly, she found a charred handle,
followed by a long length of fine chain, also carbonised by fire. Aha! One of the whips of Udun. Gathering it up,
Ilmar smiled and headed back to Maldor's keep. Things were beginning to look up.
It was soothing, performing the ritual, something he'd only done a few times before. His hand stung, still bleeding, but
not badly. Even with the voice in his head, the ritual had been a homecoming, back to the original faith he'd embraced
so many years ago. Not the darker false faith Ungoliant had thrust upon him, with her sinister motives and her use of
him. This was real, a belief in the Goddess and her beauty, her love, the embrace of her about the world. She engulfed
the universe, and would always lavish her love on all things within.
Leaning in the doorway of the bedroom, he found Ilmar wasn't there. She must have gone to find something to eat.
Food wasn't important to him just now. He'd gotten what he needed from his altar. Drained, yet somehow replenished
inside, he went to the bed and fell on it. Face down, he sprawled and sighed. Like someone in a trance, he lay there,
breathing...and finally pulled himself to his side, laying in the place where she had been a little while ago, with her
scent on the sheets.
He was somewhere between sleep and awake, his mind's eyes filled with the visions of Ilmar, when he kissed her,
when he touched her...
Ilmar returned silently, appearing in the now darkness beside the bed. She gazed down upon Maldor, lying on his side
upon the bed, seemingly asleep. Setting the whip down and slipping it beneath the bed, she then removed her dress,
leaving herself only in the light shift that she wore beneath it. Like a soft breeze blowing gently across the bed, she
moved into place behind the sleeping figure, wrapping an arm around his waist. She then nestled her nose into his
hair and closed her eyes, lulled to sleep by his musky yet sweet masculine scent.

He felt her there. Heard nothing, but felt her presence, felt her against him, and was afraid to move, even in his halfasleep state, for fear she might back away. Unlike the night before, he was actually sharing a bed with her this time,
and the feeling was an odd one. He never shared his bed. Not in so intimate a way as this, to have someone close, with
an arm about him. That was a detail he'd not miss noticing. There was no missing how close she was, the feel of her
warm breath in his hair.
But before he could consider carefully turning over, he was lost to true sleep, mentally drained from the day.
He woke sometime near dawn. It was still dark, the room cooler than before. For a while he lay, simply there, barely

awake, his eyes heavy yet. In time, he slowly turned over to face Ilmar, to reach out a hand and lightly brush her hair
from her face.
We must keep you alive. I will not have you die for me.
Moving slowly so as not to disturb her, he leaned in to press the lightest kiss to her forehead.
While part of him was disappointed in having woken her, the rest was glad to hear her voice. He made no effort to stay
away when her hold tightened, lips curving into the slightest smile when her eyes came open.
No wonder she'd won over one the darkest of entities in all history... One look into those eyes and he was lost. Happily
so. The thought of them was a great comfort for him, and to see them so soon after waking was even more so.
The hand that brushed at her hair was the bandaged one, still sore but otherwise fine. He was careful, but not overly
tentative with it. "Yes, I'm perfectly fine." His sleep had been deeper than usual, and he knew it was her presence that
kept him peaceful enough to rest so fully. The fingers in her hair drifted over her cheek, over her slim shoulder.
Ilmar...
"You are such a welcome sight first thing after waking."
Her smile was warm and inviting. "So are you, Maldor." Then she intercepted his bandaged hand, and the smile faded.
"What did you do? Did she..?" He seemed all right, except for that, so perhaps it wasn't Ungoliant's doing, but his
own. But why? Then she chastised herself. He could have just cut himself on a broken glass or something.
He'd been thoughtless. Knowing she'd see and question him, he'd not explained anything...he'd had no chance yet.
And strangely, nothing in him jumped to anger at her suspicion. He saw only her concern.
"There is no harm done, Ilmar. There was a purpose." Gently drawing his hand back, he took the chance in touching
her, running that hand down her form to her hip. He stayed there a moment, then brought it back up again. This time,
he didn't move over her ribs, but rather up the front of her, to pause over her breast for a few seconds before coming
back to her jaw, stroking his thumb over her lower lip.
This would have to stop. He couldn't keep doing this to them both. But just this one time, he wanted a few moments of
quiet, peaceful intimacy with her.
Something to hold on to for the coming days.
The maia wanted to question him further, find out what he had been doing whilst she was gone, but somehow she
knew he wouldn't tell her. He seemed all right, so she let it go with a gentle sigh. The sigh turned into a long intake of
breath as her physical form responded to his touch. In just her thin, white shift, goosebumps raised on pale skin and
she reached a hand to gently caress his cheek. Gazing into his eyes, she valued this quiet time as much as he did,
knowing what a rarity it was. And she did not feel like wasting it. Slowly and gracefully, as were all her movements,
she leaned forward and kissed first one corner of his mouth, then the other, before claiming his lips as her own.
Maldor would eventually explain his injured hand. Perhaps while they travelled. For now, he wanted to ignore what
was so trivial, and focus on what was right in front of him. Beautiful, graceful, gentle, she was all he cared about right
now. There were so many things to be concerned with, but for the moment, Ilmar was all that existed. Her touch was
a balm for his soul, the healing he seemed to need constantly. Her kiss...was the light and life that soul needed. He
kept still until her lips took his completely, and then he was diving in, his hand cupping her jaw. He would let her lead
this time, though he wanted to take over and utterly possess her.
The way she did with him just by looking at him.
He would follow her lead, and he would do anything she asked of him.
Ilmare deepened the kiss, letting her tongue press against his lips for entry which was soon granted. She couldn't
explain it but she was attracted to him. In so many ways he was much like Melkor had been in the beginning, with one
exception... Maldor was redeemable. That is what she had wanted with Melkor, to draw him back into the light. But
instead he just kept going deeper and deeper into the darkness. Then again, he didn't receive much encouragement,
either from his father, Eru, nor his own brother and Ilmare's father, Manwe. Hard to embrace the light when those
who supposedly love you throw you into chains and lock you in the nothingness of the Void. He was never the same
after that. She knows she should have left, for he was nothing of the Vala she fell in love with and begged Eru for their
bond. But she stayed, she guessed always hoping he would change, even when she knew it would never happen.

And now, here was someone who /could/ change, who could come with her into the light and she would do her best to
help him. A hand slipped into his hair as they kissed, before running down his neck to his shoulder, following the
contour of his side, realising he was only wearing the black prayer robe. But she didn't stop, she let her hand wander
slowly down until it sat upon his hip. Then it slipped to the small of his back, pulling him closer, her body now
pressed against his.
There was no way he could say no to the deepening kiss, the erotic tongue that wanted to tangle with his. Yes, he gave
over easily, and yes, he toyed with her as much as she did with him. There was no thought to dim-lit memories and
fears. He thought only of her, of her silky skin, her sweet mouth, and the hand that slid so smoothly down over his
side. A low moan escaped him, a soft sound that told of how good her touch was.
They closed what little space was between them, his hand trailing as hers did, pausing at her breast long enough to
find the nipple and cause it to tighten. When he reached her hip, he brushed his fingers along the front of her,
suggesting what he'd done only yesterday on this bed. He remembered it all too well.
Seeking a breath, he broke the kiss, "Ilmar, we will kill each other with this game we play..." The start and stop they
kept doing. A series of devouring kisses, their hands everywhere...and then gone again.
But, even with his words, he claimed her mouth once more to pull her into another sensual kiss.
But this time she didn't want to stop. It was taking its toll on her too, though she'd never admit it. She was a far more
sensual being than some of the other Ainur. She was Starlight, she was magic, she was love. Besides, she knew with
this hanging between them it would distract them from their purpose, and perhaps if they gave in to their desires, the
bond between them would strengthen and ultimately help to defeat Ungoliant.
"Then lets not play games, Maldor," she whispered against his lips, her hand sliding down to grip a firm buttock. "I
trust you."
Those three words were three of the sweetest he'd ever heard. Maybe this would all be a distraction, but he'd been
pushing himself further and further in the effort to keep from going this far. To prove himself. And to stay away from
her. There was no point in getting attached to something and someone he could never have.

But the moment was already there, and turning back seemed impossible. Conscious thought was given to how to do
this, his every move all but calculated. "No games." He whispered the words, slowly, carefully, rising over her, a knee
between hers. Within the movement, he renewed the kiss, slanting it deeply. One arm braced him, the other hand
smoothing over her figure through the thin fabric of her shift. "This must go. Let me see you, Ilmar."
She answered his kiss, then made to sit up, her hands upon his chest pushing him back until he was upon his knees.
Then she broke the kiss and started to remove her shift, lifting it little by little revealing the perfect fana she wore. Her
breasts were large and firm and round, nipples standing erect for him, goosebumps now covering pale, milky flesh soft
as rose petals, and no hair anywhere in sight, just like an elf. She tossed the shift to the floor, and, breath coming in
short, nervous gasps, reached out to take hold of the collar of his robe, slowly peeling it down his shoulders and arms
revealing Maldor in all his glory.
He moved with her, giving her space, barely able to breathe as the garment was slowly pulled up, up, up and over,
forgotten. He breathed her name, his expression one of awe, the look of a man seeing the most beautiful vision he'd
ever known. She was absolute perfection. "Oh, Ilmar..." A body like this demanded respect, care, and love. The heart
within demanded the same, only one hundred fold. And he wanted to give it. He'd start here, and prove himself
something other than the horror of the stories he'd told her
On his knees on the bed, he let her pull the robe away. His build was strong, firm, and impressive for a man nearing
forty-one. There was next to no hair on his chest, but a line of deep gold began at his navel and delved down between
his legs. And there he was impressive, too.
He came forward, slowly coming back down over her, kissing her with the same fire as before, a hand cupping a
breast, centering the nipple in his palm.
Maldor had probably never made love normally. Even when playing at slow and sensual, there was always some
element of calculation and control. He'd held the reins on every situation, every time. Nine times out of ten, it turned
out badly.
This time, it would be different. This time he was reaching out to touch her and was gentle, careful, tender, even
tentative. He'd gain some confidence along the way, but in the beginning, laying her back with her mouth claimed by

his. His thumb brushed over her nipple, time and again, then was gone as his hand went down over her waist and hips
to her leg, that leg hooked over his. He drew it upward, high, higher, bending her knee, leaning in to break the kiss
and begin trailing kisses all down her neck.
Once again, his fingers brushed the place between her legs, hinting at more than this simple touch.
Ilmar's entire body tingled at his touch, her whole self ached with need. His touch was so gentle, so attentive, it was
hard for her to believe what he had told her... how he had actually killed people whilst doing just this. It made her
shudder as she tried to put it from her mind, letting herself, instead, focus on the sheer physicality of now. The
luscious body before her, the hungry lips and probing fingers that made her gasp out loud at their touch between her
legs.
There was no getting away from the truth, the things he'd done. He knew, at some point, she'd think of it. He didn't
know when it would be, but it would happen. Because of that, he had to just keep moving forward.
With his mouth on her neck, his tongue sliding over her skin, he let his fingers explore. She was so small. Finding the
entrance of her body, he let a finger sink deep. Just that much made everything in him seize up. He moaned in her ear,
all but trembling from want. That finger held still, then was drawn back, wet, to slide higher and circle the tiny button
now exposed. The touch was feather-light, almost uncertain, and only a beginning.
Light though his touch was, it was a jolt of electricity through Ilmar. She let out a loud gasp and struggled not to
squirm beneath him. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be touched in such a way it had been so long. And
even when Melkor had been intimate, it was never gentle, nor considerate to her. He took what he wanted and left her
to herself. Maldor was different. He was gentle and loving and nothing like the person described... the person that
Ungoliant wanted him to be.
Fingertips gently clutching at his sides, she brought them up his back barely touching, feeling as goosebumps rose
beneath them. She could also feel his want twitching against her leg, her own excitement building hoping he would
not back down this time.
"Shhh... Don't fight it." Slowly, he worked his way down, kissing along her collarbone, biting down gently on the
ridge of it, breathing over the fine skin of her upper chest. His teeth grazed the curve of her breast, all the while his
finger made slow, little circles over that pearl of flesh. So slick, so delicate.
His mouth closed over a nipple, his pull on it strong.
His body was alight, wanting her, needing her. The skin of her inner thigh was soft against the hard shape of him.
His tongue circled her nipple in time with the movement of his hand between her legs, teasing, flicking the tip of the
hardened crest. He wouldn't leave her unfulfilled this time. He wouldn't leave them trapped in desire with no way to
ease the ache of it. "Ilmar... So beautiful..." He whispered to her, refusing to give in. Not now. Not yet.
Those emerald eyes closed as her head went back, softly moaning his name as his finger and tongue worked in unison.
Her own hands gave his buttocks a squeeze as one moved around to slip between them and take his arousal in its
gentle grip. She waited until she could judge your reaction before doing anything more than gently stroke it, feeling
the soft skin against her fingers.
No one had ever spoken his name like that. No one had ever moaned to him and used his name. It had a great effect,
all inside, all something he would ponder later, when he wasn't trying so hard to please a woman who meant as much
as Ilmar, when he wasn't doing that while she was beginning to toy with him. Her gentle touch drew a low moan
from him, was deepened when he paused long enough to place his hand over hers and tightened her grasp, guiding her
strokes a time or two. But after that, she was on her own, as he was seeking her path to climax. No longer was he
focusing on the sensitive little point he'd found before. Now he pushed two fingers inside her and thrust, curling them,
in search of an even sweeter place that would send her into the starlight she represented.
It didn't take long before she was softly moaning and squirming beneath him, arching her hips up against his hand.
Her own continued to stroke him as he had shown, her grip tightening slightly as he brought her quickly close to
climax. She gasped his name as it approached, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. She held her breath in silence until it
hit her suddenly, with a loud cry followed by a shudder as she gasped desperately for breath. Ilmar then opened those
beautiful eyes and smiled at him. Maldor... she breathed and kissed him hard.
He gave in to watching her, his eyes on her face as he worked her closer and closer to flight. Breathy groans and sighs
came from him a few times with the stroking of her hand, but he was mainly quiet. Why? Because it wasn't like him.
Her grip tightened, everything inside him tightened, and he groaned. "Yessss..." The pressure of his fingers increased
slightly, just slightly, and he watched her hold her breath, heard her gasp of his name. That sounded sooo good to the

ears.
And there she went. His encouragement to her was a wordless sound, like a long, drawn out breath. He kept her there
a few moments, then eased off, locked into her kiss. He made no protest, instead pleased with himself.
"Ilmar..."
Without a word, she kissed him again, giving him a hard squeeze with her hand before letting go and grasping his
buttocks once more, her legs shifting to give him more room. It was obvious she was ready for him, if that's what he
wanted. If not, she would be disappointed, but would never let him know.
There were a thousand ways a woman could let a man know she was disappointed. But he would not leave her so.
Gently, gently, he nipped at her lip when she squeezed him. Each wanted a little control here, but it would be given,
not taken. Maldor saw that give and take idea when she let go of him and gave him greater access to her body. She
would let him make love to her, and he found he was actually nervous. This had to be done right. This had to be
perfect.
He fitted himself over her, kissing the corner of her mouth, her jaw. "Remember my promise", he whispered in her ear,
then claimed her mouth as he entered her. It was an easy, slow thrust, and he held still. Just stayed there with her. She
was a revelation, a realisation of the desire and want he'd felt since her arrival, the reality of what was in his heart.
And yet none of it could be said.
Ilmar moaned softly into the kiss as he finally entered, her hungry body hugging him tightly within. Lithe fingers
roamed though his dark golden hair as she held him inside, as close as two bodies could ever truly be. Deep down
inside, what some call the pit of one's stomach, she felt a thrilling flutter that made her smile and moan even as the
kiss broke. Her eyes opened and looked at him, the soft smile still playing about her full lips.
I will remember, she whispers back, her breath fast and laboured as her senses are bombarded from every direction.
His scent alone was enough to fill her with an odd mix of comfort and desire, his voice like honey in her ear. Love
me, Maldor... love me like you've never loved before.
How could he do anything else? Love her as he'd never loved before... Already he did, in a hundred different ways. But
in this, this act, he'd do more than he thought possible. It had always been intense, right from the start, but it would
become increasingly dangerous... For Ilmar, he wanted that danger only to be in the possibility that ecstasy could be
too strong.
His initial rhythm was slow, his darkening eyes trained on her face, the ethereal beauty of her. His mouth was all over
her, her lips, cheeks, jaw, neck, and shoulders. His breath was warm, heavier than before, heart racing a little faster
with each passing minute as the strength of passion built down low in him, rising to threaten his senses. He was only
lost in the feel of her, so soft, so warm, so slick all around him. Lost in the light, and wanting to stay forever.
Her gasps were slow and drawn out, in time with his movement, hands and lips exploring where they could. She
wondered if Ungoliant would try and stop them or if this is what she had wanted all along? Ilmar's own starlight aura
surrounded them, protected them as they both tread ground they'd never visited before. She knew it was probably too
soon after all they'd only known each other what, a little over two days? But it felt like a lifetime they had been
through so much together already, and had so much more yet to do. They both needed this to steel themselves for what
lie ahead.
~How sweet you are. Adorable, really. Oh, mortal, you think this will save you, quiet your mind. You cannot stop me.
Will you go day and night to keep me at bay? You cannot! I rule you! DO YOU HEAR ME?~
The softest cry went out into the stillness of the room, his face turned into her neck. The shout was so loud inside his
head, demanding his attention, but he wasn't going to give it. He wouldn't. His hips were a constant motion against
her, his length plunged into her as far as he could go, and then further still.
Gently...
He breathed against her ear, combing his fingers into her sleek hair, whispering her name, whispering rambled words
about her beauty, what she felt like, and what she did to him.

Ilmar could sense something's wrong right away as his movements began to jerk slightly, almost imperceptibly, but
she could tell. His thrusts though still steady, were slightly harder, and she winced once or twice but kept silent except
for the occasional moan that would escape as she tried to concentrate instead of worrying about him. Oh how she

wished she could somehow go into his mind and rip the beast from there into this world and stomp on her like a
common bug. But of course she couldn't. Things were far more complicated than that. It would take all the courage
and know-how they both had to confront her, let alone defeat her ... and there was every distinct possibility that they
would not be able to.
I hear nothing.
~Tell her. Tell her all I say. Tell her what I want. I've found a way into them before, and you, mortal, have some talent
here. Do you think she enjoys it? She will even more when I'm inside her and I can control things. We'll moan for you,
Maldor. We'll make it even nicer for you.~
I hear nothing. I hear nothing. I hear nothing.
He knew full well Ilmar was aware of what was happening. He couldn't decide if he was happier she said nothing, or
if he wished she would, encourage him to believe everything was alright. He'd find comfort in her.
Comfort...in her...
He took over her mouth in a searing, devouring kiss, one meant to solidify the two of them, their strength together.
One hand slid up her form, pausing over her breast, on up to her neck, fingertips drifting over her skin lightly.
That hand cupped around her throat, and began to tighten.
Ilmar's worry increased as she could feel him tense up, sense the darkness rising all around them. When his hand
moved to her throat, she shuddered, even as he smashed his fierce kiss against her. Should she speak up and say
something? Or let him fight through this on his own? Would saying something break the hold, or only make it worse
for him? It certainly wasn't going very well for her.
Swallowing hard, the maia reaches up and places her hands on either side of his face, opening her eyes and looking
into his, a worried, questioning expression on her face.
This is not what I wanted! You know it. You know-~Oh, I've ruined your ideas about love and romance. What do you know if it? You've never been loved by anyone.
You've never had love, and never will. She couldn't love you. Think of the things you've done, and half of them in the
position you're in now. THINK.~
His expression hardened, even more so when she looked up at him. The hand on her throat tightened further, but if she
felt it, paid close attention, she might feel the tremble in him.
The battle he waged.
I promised...
He was being far too hard on her, not just with his hands, but with his hips. Abruptly, he stopped. All movement
halted, and he stared at her, expression slowly crumbling. A broken groan sounded as his head lowered, one hand
brought up, as if he was in great pain.
The shrieking...
It wasn't as loud as the first time, but sounded far away, ever so slowly coming closer, growing in volume.
Oh, please, no. Not now. Not with her here. Don't let her see...
Despite the searing pain, he came forward again, his lips soft against the corner of her mouth. "I'm sorry", he
whispered. "Ilmar, I'm sorry."
This time, every move was fluid, almost graceful, and every bit of what he'd wanted it to be. He was tender with her,
his rhythm slow, drawn out, searching for closeness more than anything else.
Ungoliant was silent. She was confused. Had he really done that?! In spite of the pain, he'd gone quiet, gentle, and
he'd ignored the creature. She'd halted everything and turned quiet.
All that was left was Maldor and Ilmar.
Ilmar remained silent. Worry filled her eyes, questions, even pleading, but she knew somehow he had to battle
through this himself. In the past, no doubt he would have merely gone along with the voice in his head and done what

the creature bid him to do, even going as far as killing the person he was with. She knew this, and it turned her
stomach. But this time he was fighting it; this time he felt he had a reason to. And Ilmar knew that the best thing she
could do right now was to trust him.
So, she trusted him.
Hands slipped backwards into his dark golden hair, damp with sweat, both from his exertions within his mind and
without. She kept the fear and trepidation from her touch, though she could defend herself at any moment should it
become necessary. But it never did. He whispered against her lips then became gentle once more, much to the maia's
delight, relaxing and trying to enjoy what they were doing. As she held his head, she kissed him tenderly and began to
move with him once more.
You are my magick, the keeper of all the things I've wanted to do in life. The one who could bring them to life.
Whatever creature has taken a place inside my mind, you're the real one, the one I've looked to...and I never knew you
were there.
Her touch was what he needed, something beyond the look of fright, concern, and pleading. Something beyond all
else, this confirmation that she was really there, very real, and with him through everything.
I'm so sorry, Ilmar... Never again...
He made up no stories to himself, getting his hopes up that this would happen again. This was a chance moment in
time. This was something unusual and perfect, one sweet moment for him to hold to forever. And to that end, he did
everything to make it right.
His lips skimmed over her shoulder, grazed her collarbone, her chin, back to her lips, where his kiss was heated and
electric, his tongue seeking hers. Every thrust was made for depth and intensity, not power. He drove deep, but loved
her as though she were fine and almost breakable. He'd be careful, but never boring. Always seeking the sensitive
points within, angled, rolling her hips high to go further still. Every touch sought to bring her body to life, ignite a fire
inside that would rage out of control...and send them both spiralling.
Sensing the attack or whatever it was now over, she gave herself to him completely. As feverishly as he attended her
with his lips and tongue, she attempted to do the same. Nails dug into firm flesh as she was finally able to shut out all
distractions and concentrate on Maldor alone, moans growing in pitch as she neared her peak once more. She knew he
needed this reassurance that things could be 'normal' that he could be normal; that he could make love and know that
the darker thoughts and deeds were not his own after all.
He had to marvel at it all, the sweetness and power of the act, just as it was, with the meaning it had. For them both.
Had to marvel over the power it gave him to know life moved on without blinding darkness all around. His life moved
on.
I don't need it. It's not part of me.
~It is all you!~
No.
The voice was weak, and easily ignored. This time. He knew well it wouldn't be the end. But for now, he was free of it.
He had peace. Peace to push onward, to move and be moved. To breathe her name against her ear and groan with the
feel of her nails. He hissed a breath and let her hear the erotic moan that rumbled in his throat.
There was more to be said. More that pleaded to be said. It was shoved down under so much, buried and hidden away
for safe keeping.
Her moans grew, and his sounds of encouragement did, as well. He drew back just enough to run a hand all down the
front of her, from her throat down to the hollow between her hips. His touch was so light, so conscious of her fragile
form. His pace found a little more speed, the need for depth that came when the edge was in sight.
Maldor's touch down her centre did indeed help send her over the edge. Her cry as she peaked was quiet, but
unmistakeable, her entire body shuddering beneath him as nails dug into his back, though not hard enough to break
the skin. She gasped for breath as her fingers slid down to his buttocks to press him closer, encouraging his own
release. Ilmar whispered his name breathlessly in his ear, hot, moist breath coating it as her lips brushed across.
There was something very fitting about the way she was so quiet when she came. Something almost peaceful in the
middle of that physical storm. All else was forgotten with the feeling of it, her body's flight all around him, drawing

him deep, grasping him tight. It pulled an almost startled sound from him. She was tiny enough, but when her walls
closed in, he was truly gripped. Her nails stung just enough to send shocks down his spine, and with the sound of her
voice speaking his name in such aching tones, he was lost.
His head went forward, his voice a growl, a long low groan. Broken, ragged, it tried to speak her name and couldn't.
Forced deep, he held still, spasming, pulsing, the coil snapped as all came loose, as if he'd come apart at the seams.
But in the sweetest way.
Minding his weight over her despite flight, he laid his head to her shoulder, gasping, gulping air.
"Oh, love...ohgods, love..."
Ilmar held him tight as he came, feeling him deep within, her own wave still only just fading. And then he gently
collapsed atop her, and she wrapped her arm around him, the other bringing her hand up to tenderly sweep through
his dampened hair.
You did it, Maldor, she breathed softly against his skin as she placed tender kisses upon his moist, fevered brow.
You did it as yourself and without the darkness. Welcome, my love, to the light.
He could cry. In all honesty, he could. But men didn't do such things, and so his emotions were choked down. Her
words deepened it, and he found himself clinging to her.
"My love...' Was there something in that? Something like the words he'd spoken...without meaning to? He'd never
meant to let it slip, and would brush it off on the moment.
But none of it mattered. What mattered was the feel of her touch, her fingers in his hair, her kiss. With a shaky breath,
he shook his head. "No. We did it. I would not have had the strength without you." His lips brushed her skin before his
head lifted, lips finding hers in a soft kiss.
"Thank you......"
For what? she asked softly, brushing his hair from his face with gentle fingers. For caring? Because I do, you know.
You have been through so much and I will not let your life be ruled by a monster. Not if I can do anything about it.
Ilmar smiled at Maldor softly, fondly even. But the concern still shone in her eyes. She had been worried about him
for a while there, but indeed, he had fought off the vile creature in his mind and triumphed. Now, came the hard part...
beating her for real in person.
"You believe in me, though I do not know why. You should have left here long ago." As he spoke, he shifted, withdrew,
and lay beside her. "Anyone else would have." It was the smart thing to do. But, while being the most intelligent and
wise person he'd ever met, Ilmar seemed daring as well. Willing to do what others wouldn't. She would save this
monster he'd turned into, and destroy the creator in the process.
Would Ungoliant grow weak if she no longer had him to feed off of? Would she drift from reach?
"We must begin. There is too much ground to cover between here and Rivendell."
Ilmar merely nodded. Somewhat disappointed he just moved on from there unceremoniously, she rose and headed to
the bathroom to clean up a little, before dressing. But she knew he was right. They had a long journey ahead and the
sooner they started, the sooner they would arrive. Then they would have more time together, if that's what they
wanted, once they had rid the world of Ungoliant once and for all.

He was apparently as awkward as a teenager... She left him as he was sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.
~So, you did rather well. You fought me, you had her, and now...a journey? This is not a social call, what with your
want to be locked up. How quaint, Maldor. You think you'll save them that way. Can you save yourself?~
Even if I am left in pieces, if they are safe, I've done enough.
~You're noble now. That won't last. Do not think you will not make mistakes while travelling. Better warn her.~
He looked down at his bandaged hand and wondered if that ritual would be enough to give him some kind of hope and
peace. Even if it failed, he'd tried. He'd tried! Would that not prove something? Rising, he went behind the screen to
wash, then chose his clothing--black and deep red--to begin dressing.

She emerged from the bathroom dressed in riding clothes consisting of black breeches beneath a white tunic, black
boots upon her dainty feet. A silver chain belt she had around her tiny waist and a black cloak with red silk lining over
her arm. Raven hair was pulled back severely into a bun and the expression on her face was unreadable. Though she
clearly meant business now, she was still stunningly beautiful.
Silent emerald eyes glanced past him as she moved from the bedroom to find Jenlo and ask if all was ready for their
journey. She had taken the liberty of instructing him the night before: two horses, loaded with bedding and plenty of
provisions for the journey to Rivendell which she estimated would take about a week, if the weather was with them.
She was beyond beautiful. How would she ever be seen with him, and keep her head high? Everyone in the area knew
his face, knew his reputation, and that couldn't be erased with the passing of two days.
Black leather bracers with silver scroll-work covered his lower arms, his boots a newer pair than his usual. The riding
cloak was black, and before leaving the room, he picked up his sword and the belt for it, which also carried a knife.
When he found her, he gently laid a hand to her arm, and once he had her attention, he leaned in to press a long, soft
kiss on her lips. His expression was uncertain, but he said nothing. He only pulled away to call for breakfast. It
wouldn't be right to eat on the road this morning, and the Lady needed her strength.
As if Ilmar could ever be less than her full strength at any time...
As he emerged, Ilmare kept her eyes averted, feeling bad that she had behaved so childishly, though she doesn't
understand quite why. But as he approached her and touched her arm, she gave him a soft smile. When he kissed her,
she softened considerably and even gave him a smile. Breakfast did indeed sound good and she followed him to the
dining room where Jenlo had laid on a small but delicious looking meal. Taking her seat she watched Maldor, trying
to judge his mood.
He could not be changed utterly over the course of one morning, and it was clear he had much to learn. But trying was
something. Trying.
Her smile stayed with him, giving him some kind of courage when he knew the servants watched him with wary and
strange looks. This was someone they'd never seen before, and in a short time, he'd gone from the terrifying monster to
someone almost worth being employed by. They didn't see the fear in him, the concern about the travelling ahead, the
time he'd be completely alone with Ilmar.
He was quiet throughout the meal, but glanced toward her several times, keeping his expression as light as possible.
Let her see him as being hopeful about this journey and the results, what it would mean if they succeeded in the end.
Let her see him as looking forward to this time alone, with no fear at all, only the thrill of being close to her and under
no watch.
She didn't need to see the utter and absolute terror he held inside as they drew ever closer to the full moon.
Ilmar, too, enjoyed the meal in silence, giving Maldor occasional smiles of encouragement when he would look over
at her. He seemed fine outwardly, but she knew full well what raged inside his mind. She may not be able to see it, but
she could sense it easily enough. He wasn't fooling her at all.
But she knew this trip and this whole mission had to be done. Perhaps Lord Elrond could even help. His knowledge of
the lore of Middle Earth was second to none. She had been locked away with Melkor for most of her time of existence,
so she knew little but of what concerned him and his escapades. Perhaps, Elrond would even know how to defeat this
monstrosity once and for all... or would at least have books that could help, for his library was the best in the land. If
all else failed, she could always seek her father's advice. But that was the last thing she wanted to do. She was a maia
chief. She should be able to handle this lesser maia spirit on her own.
As she finished, she set her utensils down and dabbed at her lips elegantly with her napkin, her every movement fluid
and graceful. Then she looked at Maldor, concern no longer masked in her eyes, and placed a gentle hand on his.
He was careful in eating, and ate sparingly, too. He'd probably regret it later, but for now, his stomach couldn't handle
it. There were visions in his head about seeing Elrond, and being in this strange place called Rivendell, filled with
Elves...whom he seemed to have no real bad feeling toward. His words of the days before were gone. He'd even
considered using the word she'd used to him, meleth, but couldn't seem to find the courage to do so. He had to think of
the steps involved in this battle, of finding the information about Ungoliant, the remains of the weapon, getting hold of
them, and using it all to bring her down. They would need a great deal of luck on their side, and no small amount of
courage.
Even when his head was lowered slightly, over his dish, he watched her from the corner of his eye. She had a grace

that went far beyond the elven form she held to. A form he had to admit he liked more than he ever wanted to say. And
it had nothing to do with this morning's events in bed.
Oh, how he wished it had all been different. Perfect, dreamlike...and not the almost fumbling and momentarily
dangerous thing it had been. He was at a loss when it came to romance in any fashion. Even when he was younger,
more human, he'd never had a love. Ilmar deserved more than that.
He resolved to stay away from her. He'd not touch her in any way that could be taken for something other than
friendship. But he didn't count on the way that decision would make him feel. Empty, lonely, and even more isolated
than before.
Her hand touched his, and he met her gaze. He knew the certainty in his eyes didn't match her own. Let him be seen
for a weak human.
"I am ready whenever you are."
Any confidence on her part was just wishful thinking at best. Ilmar nodded and stood from the table, holding out her
hand for him to go with her to the stables where the horses had been readied Ortherion for him and her dapple grey
Thinnor for her. There was also a third laden with provisions for the week long journey, though she hoped they could
make good time and perhaps be faster. Sure she could just go on her own probably in a matter of seconds, but
something told her this needed to be done this way. And Maldor needed to be with her.
He gladly took her hand to walk with her to the stable yard. Ortherion tossed his head. "You know we're for the road,
don't you, old friend?" When they were mounted up, Maldor looked to Jenlo, who stood in the shade of the castle's
back entrance.
"Keep closed up. No one should venture here."
"Be safe, my lord, my lady."
Turning the black stallion for the road, he gave Ilmar a sideways look. Part of him was glad for this time away from
all eyes and ears. The rest of him feared every night that would come. To be close to her and wonder what the voice in
his head would say to him.
I'll give you no satisfaction. I made her a promise.
On the road, his voice came sure, but not quite as strong as he'd like.
"Do not forget your promise to me. Lock me away in Rivendell. Even if only for a day. Will Elrond want to see me? I
mean..." He shook his head. "Will he want to know what's in my head?"
Ilmar smiled at Jenlo and kissed the old man's cheek before mounting Thinnor and taking the reins of the third horse
that were handed to her.
I will keep my promise, Maldor, she answered to his reminder. No doubt he will. But Elrond is a kind and fair man
and wise beyond any of the Eldar, except maybe Galadriel, even though he is Peredhel. Perhaps that will help you to
understand each other more?
With a final glance back at the half ruined Keep, they set off upon the dusty road down which, only two days ago,
Maldor had brought his prize beauty home. Little did he realise then what a difference that would make to his life.
"I will tell him what I can, though I wish I could hide my past. I've no wish to share those details with him any more
than I wanted to tell you." His eyes lowered to his hand, wrapped but sore, his reminder of his plea for strength.

How was it things had changed so much? That he'd drifted from the shadow he'd lived within for so many years into a
kind of grey light that gave promise to brighter days yet? That he'd discovered what appeared to be an elven woman on
the shores of the river, and brought her home only to find she might be able to help him get control over his own life
for the first time ever?
That he might fall in love with her.
His gaze was more direct when he spoke again, his lips hinting at a smile.
"They like you. My people. I can see it. Jenlo will become totally enamoured of you yet."

I think he already is, she smiled as they made their way along the road north and east. Just be sure that whatever
Lord Elrond asks you, you answer him truthfully. Tell him everything. He cannot help if he does not know the
problem.
She rode along in silence, stealing glances over at Maldor now and then. He seemed perfectly normal right now, riding
his black stallion, black and red cloak billowing behind much as hers was. Not for the first time she wondered if what
they had given into that morning was right. Whether she had cheapened herself or helped their cause? If she was just
another conquest or if it actually meant something to him. Lost in thought, she sighed and closed her eyes, trusting
Thinnor to follow Ortherion.
"It is so shameful." His voice dropped with the words, head hung a little. His look might be determined, but he
couldn't begin to voice the shame he felt for all he'd done. Twenty years of crime, hate, and pure evil was a lot on a
soul. He'd not even allowed himself to truly think about it, no more than to acknowledge that it happened, because he
was sure he'd go mad. If that was his fate, then let it happen...after they defeated this creature. He was beginning to
find his rage, the anger of having been used for so long. It would hopefully steel him for what was to come.
At least he had her. He wanted so much to take her hand. He looked over now and then, always when her eyes were
elsewhere. Finally, he took the chance. Gently guiding his horse, he brought Ortherion over to Thinnor, close enough
so he could reach out and take her hand in his. But the look he gave, the voice he used, veered away from what he felt.
"I'll do anything to see this ended, so there is peace, safety, and...I can have a life." A lonely one, but a life free of
bondage in darkness.
Ilmar took his hand and held it gladly. This made her smile as they rode and she met his eyes as he spoke. Yes his
words were honest, but she could tell they were not what he was thinking. He was holding back, and she had no idea
what or why.
Yes, you deserve a life without fear or hatred, even of yourself. A life in the light, not the dark, she found herself
nodding. But, I am curious. How did this all start? I mean, did she find a vulnerable young man and turn him to the
darkness, or had he already been there when she found him?
Maldor heaved a great sigh. "I was born and raised in Minas Tirith. My mother died when I was small and my
father...no longer wanted a reminder of her. He hated me. Just to look at me was more than he could bear, as I look
like her. He was hard on me, never praised me, never encouraged me. He always believed I was worthless. As a
teenager, I left his home and tried to join the ranks of the soldiers there. They didn't want me. More and more, I felt
the pull of my mother's faith, though hers was a pure belief. It was nothing like what you have seen of me."
His words were quietly spoken, his eyes rarely on her. "As I became more and more obsessed with it, the people
around me wanted nothing to do with me, and under false charges, I was banished from the city. I had to find my own
way, and eventually came to The Keep. It was abandoned, and no one wanted it, so I took it." He went silent,
thoughtful. "Over time, this voice began talking to me in my sleep. I know I heard it. And I felt this pull of shadow in
the corners of my mind. And everything I did began to turn to horror."
His hold on her hand tightened a little.
"I think she found me to be easy prey, Ilmar."
She listened attentively as they rode, squeezing his hand in turn for reassurance. Tell me, did you ever wonder why
the Keep had been abandoned in the first place? It seems good enough land, and a decent vantage point for miles
around. Why was it destroyed and how, and more importantly, by whom? Did you never wonder or seek answers to
these things?
The dark brows rose, his eyes wide. "No. I never thought about it." After a moment, he groaned. "They had to know.
Whoever was there before, they had to know. I took it as haunted and nothing more, and ghosts do not frighten me.
Those who are employed by me had nowhere else to go, for one reason or another. Jenlo... No one would have him in
his older years, and he had a grandchild to support. That child died, but he had nowhere to go, and so stayed with me.
I wonder if he saw anything under the surface, what I might have been."
His voice softened again. "I never questioned the voice, took it for the voices in the Keep. It was just there. What a fool
I have been...."
So you never heard the voice until you took over the Keep and started to live there? her voice was gently
questioning, as she was trying to piece together just how and where and why Ungoliant should appear in this place
and in this man's mind. Perhaps if they could figure that out, they would have a better understanding of what just to do
against the monster. It was looking more and more like the Keep was the place their final battle would take place. But

she brought her Balrog whip just in case.

"I heard nothing." He simply had never thought about all this, and now wished he had. Maybe he hadn't because he
had always been in and around the Keep. Being so close to the source, he was immersed in it and could not break the
surface long enough to see something was very wrong. It had begun the moment he made the place his permanent
home.
"Until then, my life had only been disappointing, depressing. But never this darkness. I had heard no voices, and done
nothing like what has been done over these years. I had never hurt anyone..."
She frowns at this, knowing he can't really be blamed, but still.. shouldn't he have noticed things weren't quite right?
"Maldor, I'm not blaming you, or saying you could have prevented this, but merely trying to understand. Did it not
occur to you that all of this was wrong? Strange at the very least? I know how she works and how evil she can be. But
surely you must have questioned the sanity of what was happening at some point?"
"More than once...but I couldn't seem to break free from it. It was like being trapped under ice. I could see the other
side, see normalcy, but I couldn't reach it." she might not be blaming him, but he was beginning to crack under the
weight of what he'd done.
"Every time I tried, I was pulled deeper, and something kept telling me nothing was wrong with me. I could do as I
pleased, and no one could stop me. There was nothing wrong with what I was doing. The voice...it told me it was for
the Goddess, just do it for Her."
Ilmar sighed and urged Thinnor to walk closer to Ortherion so she could release his hand and slip his arm around his
waist for a small, reassuring hug.
I'm thinking she was already there when you took over. She may have even been responsible for its destruction.
Either way, your praying to a non-existent goddess attracted her to you and she answered you in the guise of this
goddess. Then she kept you believing in her and doing her bidding, supplying her with 'sacrifices' to feed her lust for
power and enable her to strengthen and even possibly come back to our world. But it was not your fault. You were just
there and she took over.
He liked her closeness, but had to pull Ortherion to stop as he stared at her. "The Goddess is real, Ilmar. You cannot
tell me she is not. Though, she certainly is not Ungoliant." The black started forward again. "She is real, and she is out
there. But she would not ask for the things I have done. This I know now. I've always known, but never could seem to
act on my knowledge." His voice wavered, went quiet again.
"The things I have done... No, she would not want all that. She would not ask for torture and death. She asks for love,
and gives it. If anything, I should be sharing a love with someone. But... How is that possible now?" One corner of his
mouth turned up. "Ungoliant has stolen everything from my life. I *might* have had love years ago, or a family of my
own...where I would never treat a child as I was treated. I might have had a real home, and made something of
myself."
"And you can still have that if you wish. You are still young enough to have a family, a home, a full and happy life.
The things you did were not done by you, but by Ungoliant working through you. No one need know. And surely I
have helped you to prove that you can find the light and be trusted?"
She sighed heavily as he drew away, sorry she had insulted his goddess. Perhaps she was real, but Ilmar knew of no
goddess, only the Ainur. She wondered which one She was? Yavanna? Vana or even her own mother, Varda?
"The past will always haunt me. There is no way to hide from it, or outrun it. Wherever I go, it'll be there." Giving her
a direct look, he lifted a shoulder and offered a self-deprecating smile. "Who would have me? Even if I am returning to
the light, who would love or trust me?"
He held nothing against her for her words about his faith. Everyone saw things differently. He understood that and
always had, under the shadow of Ungoliant. With no need to dwell on it, he changed the subject.
"What is this Rivendell like?"
Ilmar was about to reply, but then he changed the subject. She was about to say many would have him, either
someone who knew nothing about his past, so there would be nothing to forgive, or someone who knew about it and
understood it was not his fault. Someone who could see beyond the past and only look to the future. Someone like her.
"Rivendell," she considered on how to answer him. "Well it's one of the most beautiful of the elven cities. Lord Elrond

founded it in the Valley of Imladris. The Last Homely House is the last elven settlement before one reaches the Grey
Havens. It's a land of peace and healing. There is no greater healer than Elrond and his people."
Someone like her.

Had she actually said those words, and he would never have expected it, he would have been overjoyed. It would have
been everything to him. He'd have been terrified. He'd have been unsure of himself. But he'd have been happier than
would seem possible.
But nothing was said, on either side, and for now, it might be better. Instead, he focused on the answer he was given
about Rivendell. Just the name sounded peaceful.
"Could he pull this voice from my mind, or must I wait until the beast is dead?" Looking off ahead of them, his voice
was almost distant. "I've no wish to continue on with this black thing inside my head. I want what's left of my life, and
I do not wish to have it with more blood on my hands."
I don't know to be honest. Maybe, but I rather doubt it. I think that will only come with her utter defeat. But don't
worry about the blood. I won't let you do anything nor let anything happen to you. I promise. She looked into his eyes
as she said this, meaning her words with everything she had. At the forlorn look in his eyes, she offered him a
reassuring smile.
Speak to Elrond. He is most wise and kind. He will do what he can for you.
~You don't want to keep me? I so want to keep you, Maldor, and I mean to. You are mine, remember. I made you all
you are.~
That is exactly the problem.
His head flared into searing pain again, falling forward as his hand came up. He wanted so much to hold his head and
sob with the pain that came on like a flash. Instead, he passed it off for brushing at his hair and brow, a gesture made
in his uncertainty. He met her gaze, a little unfocused, but definitely there.
"If you say this of him, then it's true. I know you'd not lie, Ilmar, and..." He tried to mimic her smile. "I trust you with
my life."
Again, his head lowered, a heavy sigh released, as if he'd been running and needed to catch his breath.
Try as he might to hide it, Ilmare could tell something was wrong. She told Thinnor to stop, Ortherion following suit,
as the horses moved closer together, getting along quite well.
"Darling, what is it?" she asked concernedly, reaching over to brush the sweat from his brow. "It's her again isn't it?"
the beautiful maia scowled. "When does she attack? I mean, what do you say or think that prompts her. Is it... is it
me?"
"She speaks when she wants to..." He spoke through gritted teeth. He felt as though someone had shoved his sword
through his head. There was no hiding it, and so he he gripped the saddle with a hand, the other deep in his hair as if
to hold his head and keep it from splitting open.
"If I speak against her, she attacks." He groaned, whispered as he felt her touch. "She hates you. She hates you because
I lo--" He cut himself off, covered his tracks. "I look to you to help me end her hold on me."
Laughter rang through his head. The pain began to fade.
Slowly he was able to breathe again, swallowed as he realised it was all subsiding. His expression was almost
apologetic when he met her gaze. "I will fight her, whatever the pain, whatever the cost. I cannot give up, Ilmar."
Her hand brushed the hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear. No, neither of us will. We are strong, especially
together and we won't let her defeat us. I just wish I could help with the pain she keeps causing you. Ilmar sighed
and let her hand travel down his cheek as she gazed into his eyes.
She could try entering his mind, but that would probably hurt him too and no doubt prompt yet another attack by
Ungoliant. No, it was best to get to Rivendell and fetch the glaive then return home to face her once and for all.

Come, we should move faster to make better progress by nightfall.

Her choice of words only fuelled the way he mentally kicked himself for his near-slip. At least he'd caught it. Because
of that, he wouldn't have liked the idea of letting her into his mind. He didn't need her finding that information, of
having Ungoliant bait her with it.
"Do not worry about the pain. I can manage that." It was an almost puppy-ish look he gave her as her hand moved
down his cheek. Such touches were so new, and so needed. It was just that it always seemed to dreamlike, so unreal.
Like Ilmar herself.
With a nod, he urged Ortherion to speed up. He would be following her lead, as Rivendell was far from any place he'd
travelled, as travelling had been non-existent for him. But he would go as far as she asked, and as quickly.
He had his reasons.
They rode for the rest of that day, stopping only briefly for a short break; to rest, freshen up a little at a small nearby
stream, and have a small meal. When the sun began to set, they looked for a suitable place to stay the night.
Somewhere they could have a fire but not be visible from the road and be set upon by bandits or orcs.
Ilmar unloaded the horses and led them to a stream, leaving Maldor to build a fire. She knelt by the stream to wash
up a little and have a cold drink as the horses drank their fill. As she knelt by the bank, it reminded her of when she
first met Maldor and how this all started. And she smiled.
He was glad the rest of the day's travel was uneventful. His head was fine, empty of all except his own thoughts, and
when night came, he was pleased even more, with the hope the dark hours would pass with even less happening. So
far, he seemed to be getting his way.
Building the fire proved something of an issue. It was only in the mistake of reaching for a fallen branch while
gathering the wood for it. That branch was attached elsewhere, unseen, and so slipped through his palm and tore open
the wound he'd made during his prayer ritual the night before. It bled badly, leaving him to drop everything and try to
rewrap it. He had to settle on a job only half done until he struggled through getting the fire built and lit. It took more
time than he wanted.
By the time Ilmar came back, she'd find him sitting before the fire, knees drawn up, his hand held between them as
he poured what water he had in his water skin over it and tried to clean it. He was less than pleased, though there was
nothing to be done about it. He simply did what was needed and refused to complain. The wound was there for a
reason, after all.
She glided over and knelt before him, her face a mask of concern. Let me see that. What did you do? Taking his
hand in hers, she took a clean cloth and wet it, then daubed the wound with some pressure so as to stop the bleeding.
Then she held it in one hand while placing her other over it, palm down. After muttering a few words, she let go, the
wound itself now closed, but not gone. She merely smiled at Maldor before moving to start dinner.
"No. It's all right. I--" He made one attempt to pull away, then let her have her way, hissing when she pressed on his
palm. "It was an accident. I reopened the cut I made last night..." He spoke quietly, his eyes lowered to watch her
work. What she did rattled him, badly. Yet it was not a bad thing.
He was confused by what she was doing, his eyes darting from their hands to her face and back. His own hand felt
strange, and when she let go, he looked to her as if to question her. But she only smiled, and he was left to stare at his
hand in wonder. Holding it, he ran his thumb down the wound, finding the soreness lessened. Again, he was looking
to her, but this time, it was in amazement.
She healed the hand that had brought so much pain and suffering and death to others. The hand of a madman, a killer.
Whatever I may be in this moment, that is exactly what she just did.
Eyes lowered, he spoke only loud enough to be heard. "...Thank you."
You should be more careful in future, she said softly, stoking the fire and setting the grate over the top so she could
put the kettle on. Ilmar glanced over at him, wondering why he was so quiet, hoping she hadn't frightened him with
her healing. It was easy enough for a maia to do.
Maldor, perhaps you could go and fill the water skins before it gets dark? The creek is just on the other side of that
rise.

"Hmm." He only nodded, his reply a wordless one. The cut was indeed there for a reason, and he had no qualms about
it purpose. It was only an accident that opened it up to bleed again. It was no big deal, rather only a nuisance. Now, it
was on its way to healing.
"Yes, of course." Rising, he gathered the skins and headed off. Like her, the sight of the water brought the memory of
their meeting to him.
My life is forever changed by her.

~You'll never have her. Dream all you want, but no matter who wins this, you will never have her. You're not good
enough.~
"Be silent."
~You're more than good enough for me, and so I will keep you. You've a fire there. Burn her. Hold her down and--~
"Stop." His hands covered his ears. "I will not listen to you."
~Oh, yes you will...~
He waited. He waited for the shrieking to begin. But it didn't. Nothing happened. It was several minutes before he
could make himself finish his task. He did it with shaking hands, coming back to crouch beside Ilmar.
Of course his state did not go unnoticed as she watched him closely. Maldor? Are you all right? she placed her hands
over his to steady them, then looked into his eyes. Please, talk to me. Did she speak to you again? Has she been
shrieking? Taunting? I was sure her influence would lessen the farther we got from the portal.
"I am all right. Or, I will be."
Why did she have to be so attentive? Why did she have to be so quick to touch him, whether his hands or face? Why?!
Every time she did, he thought of the morning and the feel of her, the sound of her voice.
I will never get the images out of my head. What a mistake I made in that. But...I would not wish it away.
"She is trying to convince me to hurt you. She tells me I'll never have y--never have the life I've missed out on." He
drew in a breath, shaking his head. "I said I would not listen to her, and she told me I would. But when I expected that
hideous shrieking again, it never happened." The tremulous voice dropped low. "I think she is making one last effort to
unnerve me before she loses her reach, if that will happen."
Ilmar nodded her understanding. Even Ungoliant's powers had their limits. Then we must redouble our efforts
tomorrow and put as much distance between ourselves and the Keep as possible in one day. Her words were low and
softly spoken, as if afraid of being overheard. But they also held a measure of hope and encouragement for her
companion's sake.
Dinner will be ready soon. Just sit here with me and try to relax. She then put her arm around his shoulders and
pulled him into a gentle hug. I am here for you, Maldor. If ever you want or need anything, I am here.
"Yes. Tomorrow, we ride hard for Rivendell. I believe our time is growing short."
The full moon...
~You've a sacrifice already before you.~
And no altar, so it is impossible.
~Let her blood spill into the earth.~
No!
~You are denying me, and yet the moon will wax to its fullest, and you WILL give her to me.~
No. No, and you are insane for asking it of me. She is mine, and I will never give her to you!
It began. The sound was faint, but so steadily growing. He clung within the hug she gave, wishing her presence would

end the agony as before. It didn't.

"I... I will return." He pulled away, almost harsh in his push to move back and get to his feet. Without another word,
he was gone into the shadows beyond the firelight, heading for the stream again. Hands over his ears, he quietly,
broken pleaded for mercy.
"Don't... Oh, please don't do this."
He dropped to his knees, shaking his head, the shrieking so loud, so very loud, inside his head. There was no escaping
it.
"Please!"
The sound grew, and he gritted his teeth.
"PLEASE!"
Arms wrapped around himself, fingers gripping his tunic sleeves, he rocked, hair curtaining his face as tears streamed
from his closed eyes. The lowest groaning sound broke from him as he fought not to scream.
This was his battle, and he would win it, whatever the cost.
Of course Ilmar couldn't just sit there and let him go off on his own. She knew full well what was happening, and still
he didn't want her to see it. The maia of starlight followed him to the stream, and stopped just within sight of him. She
waited a moment, to see if he could manage to fend Ungoliant off on his own, but when she heard the low moan issue
forth from his crouched, rocking form, she strode forwards with purpose. Cupping her hands in front of her, she
summoned her maia powers here on earth and filled her hands with starlight. As she drew near, Ilmar then threw the
growing, glowing ball of light towards Maldor where it hovered above him then bathed him in its ethereal glow, little
sparkles like fleeting embers dancing around his head until it all faded and she went up to him and wrapped her arms
around him from behind.
Shhhhh, she should be gone now, Maldor. At least I hope she is, Ilmar whispered, holding him tightly and rocking
with him.
He wanted so much to hide this from her, but knew she'd figure it out. By the time he really thought about it, he was
locked in the attack, fighting for his sanity. He wanted to scream, needed to, and still fought it down. And swore he
could hear laughter because of it.
Quite suddenly, the shriek pierced his mind...for a split second...and then faded in a quick death. He'd just drawn a
breath, ready to let loose with a cry..and it was gone. Gone, leaving him in blessed, cool silence. He felt hands on him,
arms around him, and allowed the tears to continue, a cleansing he needed.
"She's gone." He whispered the words. "She's gone." His voice came out in a broken whisper. "I'll not give you to her,
Ilmar. I won't... She cannot have you."
"Shhh no she can't have me. Even if she tried directly," she spoke with far more confidence than she felt. Ungoliant
had nearly killed Melkor once, and Ilmar was only a maia. "For she is not of the darkness, she /is/ darkness, and
though I am also a maia like her, I am light. That's why she wants me so badly, but also why she cannot have me. She
and her unlight need to be defeated once and for all. And with luck, we'll be the ones to do it."
Ilmare lifted his face to hers and brushed the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs. Then, with a soft, encouraging
smile, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his, knowing it would both calm and distract him from his current
experience.
"I will not..." He was still whispering when she lifted his face, when she dried his tears, when she began that kiss. He
had all the confidence that Ilmare could manage her part in this, but doubted himself so badly now. These attacks in
his head were new, and they were enough to steal one's sanity. They were enough to make a person wish for death.
But that kiss was all she wanted it to be. A warm comfort, and a lovely distraction. There was no ignoring the softness
of her lips, the sweetness in that kiss. A kiss to prove she forgave all, she would be at his side. A kiss to let him prove
he would do the same for her. He'd always be there, as long as she needed him.
Only until this is done...
He would take it. He would take the time he had and be grateful for it. He would take it and relive it in his head down

the line as if it had been real, a love to call his own.

If I survive this.
That didn't matter.

He lived inside the kiss as long as he dared, his hand finding its way to cup the back of her neck in a warm and gentle
grasp. So light. And when he was forced to pull back to breathe, his voice came in the softest whisper.
"I will never forget a moment of this."
She remained silent, studying his face, fixing his eyes with hers. Then she leaned in for another kiss, this time it was
not a distraction, but almost a reward. It was encouragement, hope and something more. Fondness. Then it ended and
she smiled.
Shall we go back and have something to eat then get some rest? Tomorrow will be a long day. Gracefully Ilmar
stood and offered her hands to pull him to his feet.
He wanted to look away. For all the crimes committed, for the wrongs done, for all the weakness in his head, he
wanted to look away. Such purity need not be burdened with looking on someone so lost, so hopeless.
Oh, there was hope in his heart, but was there really hope FOR him?
The second kiss was something deeper, where his own hands rose, cupping her jaw in the lightest touch. But he lived
and breathed her for those few moments. Reached out for something that would pull him together and stitch him into
something stronger than he was. He'd shown so much strength, but not nearly enough. Not enough.
Nodding, he took her hands and rose to his feet, giving her a long look before walking back to their camp with her,
still holding a graceful hand in his own.
I can do this. Whatever Ungoliant throws at me, I can do this. It was only a bump in the road. I can do this.
She can sense he feels better now as they sit down and she dishes up some of the simple soup she's made. She also
breaks off some bread from a loaf and hands it to him.
"Eat, my dear. You will feel better and you will need your strength for the days of travel ahead." Smiling, she then ate
her own dinner, watching Maldor closely to make sure he ate. The horses were nearby, happily grazing and nudging
each other, obviously getting along well.
"I do hope we've seen the last of her, at least for awhile," she said softly as she took a sip from her waterskin, then
offered it to Maldor.
He gratefully accepted the food she offered, his thanks quiet. And he ate in silence. How long had it been since he'd
had a real appetite? Over time, he'd worn down, and now he needed to build himself up inside, build his strength for
the fight ahead.
The soup was good, simple indeed, but more than enough. It was also far better than he could do. For that alone, he
was grateful. For this, he was almost overjoyed. The bread was dipped into the soup, eaten while his eyes looked into
the flames of the fire.
I can do this.
His hand went out for the water skin, a long drink swallowed from it. "It was only a bump in the road. That is all." He
was tentative in meeting her gaze, but when he did, the look proved he was himself. More and more with every
moment that would carry them from The Keep.
But if he was better the farther they got, what would it be like in returning? Would he break down again?
"It is a shame I will see so little of Rivendell..." Dipping the last bite of his bread, he spoke with his eyes lowered. "I
would like to explore it with you, even if for only an hour."
He took the last bite.

I don't see why we cannot do that. No doubt it will take time to get an audience with Elrond, so there will be time to
kill. It is such a very beautiful place, and full of peace and healing. I think it will be good for you, which is why I am
bringing you. Yes, I could have just gone on my own, but I need you strong for the battle ahead and this will help you.
She takes his bowl and spoon and cleans up the dinner things, packing them away again before sitting beside him to
look up at her mother's stars. Her arm slips around Maldor's waist as she sits beside him, giving a small yawn.
"Will it still be a help while I'm locked away?" the words came out before he could bite them back, leaving him to
stare at her a moment. Then he turned to look into the flames. Nothing more was said.
Maybe I'll be trustworthy then. Maybe, being far away from The Keep, I'll be out of Ungoliant's reach, and I won't
need to be locked up. But what good will it do to wander through such a beautiful place with her, knowing it'll only
twist up my heart?
As her arm went around him, he slipped his around her shoulders, fingers in her hair. He'd stay like this all night if
she wanted. Or at least until she fell asleep. Like that night in the chair. Oh, he'd ached the next morning, sitting as he
had, but it had been so worth it. Worth having her so close that turning his head as he had brought him face to face
with her.
That, he could do.
He turned his face up to the stars.
"If I only ever had this one night like this, with you, under these stars...I would still be happy."
One man's hopeless dream.
Ilmar couldn't help but smile. We will have many nights like this, Maldor. It is a long road we travel. She then
yawned again and leaned back upon her elbows, stretching her legs out before her.
I have set up the bedrolls. We shouldn't need the tents tonight as the sky looks fairly clear. What do you say? She
looked over at him, still worried about this latest attack. It had really disturbed her seeing him in so much pain. The
sooner they defeated Ungoliant the better. Yes, he was just a single human, who, in the great scheme of things wasn't
worth very much. But he was a person, filled with life, and as such, a treasure worth saving. At least that's how Ilmar
saw it.
He let his arm drop as she shifted her position, busied himself with running the thumb of his right hand across the
wound on his left. Closed, it looked to heal much faster than he could have if left alone. He probably should have
stitched it, like many men, he simply let it be. Now, it would heal decently thanks to Ilmar's care.
Times like this, I wish I could be all SHE made me, and take all I would demand of her...make her mine forever.
"Yes. We need rest if we're to hurry from here on. We've little time to work with. Let us waste none of it. I'm exhausted
anyway..." At least that had some truth to it, as he was worn from fighting down Ungoliant's attack on him.
But I did it.
He turned, leaned back to brush her cheek with his lips. "Thank you..." He said no more, moving to sit up again.
At this she gave him a soft smile, then moved to stand. She doused the fire with handfuls of dirt then made for the
bedrolls, lying side by side beside a large boulder, which afforded them a little bit of shelter.

This was when Ilmar did something magical. Arms in the air, she closed her eyes and muttered some words, not in
any kind of elvish, but in old Valinorean. As she spoke, light seemed to surround her, not a bright glowing like like the
sun, but dim, pale light like the stars. It grew and grew until suddenly it shot up into the air several feet and burst
apart, falling to the earth in the shape of a pale dome. This was ancient magic, the power of the Ainur, for their
protection in the night. As the dome all but faded from sight, she turned and sat upon her bedroll, slipping out of her
boots and loosening her clothes enough to sleep in.
He had to wonder if the effort wore her down, or if keeping that magick going would take her energy. They were
questions he had in mind as he watched her, his eyes alight with the wonder he saw. Who wouldn't be taken with the
sight it was?!
She really is the light of the stars...

Maybe this was the reason he couldn't seem to settle. Like her, he made ready for bed, unfastening the belt about his
tunic and laying it aside, sitting down to pull his boots off. But he knew sleep would be a long time coming. More than
once, when her eyes were elsewhere, he glanced her way, and in the end, he eased down on his back, arm under his
head, his face a cloud of thought.
Out of reach. These were the only words he could think of. Make this journey, Maldor, but when the fight is over, if
you yet breathe, you'll do it alone.
He tried to convince himself he was all right with that.
Ilmar seemed to be asleep in no time, but such was not the case. Her eyes were shut, but she could sense his
wakefulness beside her. Without opening her eyes, the maia turned onto her side facing him and laid a gentle arm
across his chest. Soothing energy flowed through her into Maldor to help him sleep.
Try to sleep, meleth. We have a long road ahead of us and you'll need it. We will be all right. I am certain of it.
No, do not do this. I need to distance myself and stop lo-There was no stopping the natural move he made in bringing his free hand to cover hers, holding it in a warm grasp.
His head turned, face turned toward her. He could watch her like this for ages and never get tired of it.
'Meleth'...
With her energy flowing through him, he couldn't avoid the weariness that finally settled in. Couldn't fight it.
Losing the battle, he slipped into sleep.
As she felt him fall to sleep, Ilmare smiled to herself, thinking 'job well done' as she slipped off herself.
The dawn chorus started right before the sun had even suggested its rise, suddenly all at once as if someone had
flipped a switch and turned on all the birdsong. If Ilmar heard it, she made no indication, but slept on, her arm
tightly around Maldor, her head resting on his shoulder.
Strangely, he didn't dream. Not at all. When he woke, Maldor would remember no dreams from the night, good or
bad. The birds were well into their morning routine when he woke, but Ilmar was still asleep beside him. During the
night, he'd moved his arm from under his head, wrapping it around her.
It seemed so right, so natural, to hold her like this, to wake to her warm presence against him. It seemed as if he'd
been doing it his whole life, yet was so new. Still, nothing would convince him it wasn't right.
Right, but not allowed.
So, despite the need to get moving, he let her sleep, watching her, silently revelling in the moments he was given.
As Arien's first rays began to pick out the edges of the clouds, Ilmar stirred. A gentle yawn and soft groan alerted
Maldor to this fact as the maia stretched the muscles of her physical form by hugging the human closer to her. A few
moments later and emerald eyes fluttered open, a smile blossoming as his face was what they saw.
Good morning, Maldor, her voice was soft and full of sleep. I hope you managed to sleep?
This was his peace. This was the quiet his mind and heart needed. But the downfall was the piercing of his soul when
she began to wake. The sound she made, the way she stretched against him, pulling him in tighter. His eyes closed in
an expression of contentment...and then it crumbled into pure heartache. It was only with the greatest effort that he
covered it all with what appeared as a sleepy smile of his own.
"Good morning...and yes, I did, thanks to you."
That smile of hers... He would carry the image of it with him for a long time to come.
"On the contrary", he said quietly. "I'm quite grateful."
He knew he should let go, but couldn't seem to make himself do it. He disliked how tentative he felt when it was only a
day before that he'd taken her, and remembered all too well the feel of her. But it was this, the feel of her arm about
him, that shot right down into his soul.

His hand took hers, fingers twining with her slim ones. He paid no attention the fact he did it, nor did he think of
urging her into readying for the day of travel ahead. No, he lay there, glad for the contact, the minutes he had with her
which would become fuel for the lonelier times in the future, something to cling to when he was laying alone in the
dark of night.
But...why did she stay? Was she not the one to say something about moving more quickly today? Yet here she was,
laying with him as if she wanted it as much as he did...
He dared not hope...
Indeed she did know they had to move faster and travel much harder. Yes they should be up and on the road by now.
But this felt so good, so warm and comforting, it was nearly impossible to tear herself away. What harm, she figured,
would half an hour be? What harm would a little cuddle be? What harm would one soft kiss be?
These were the questions in her sleep-hazed mind as she pressed her full ruby lips to his, her arm pulling him even
closer until their bodies pressed together once more. Of course she wanted this, and yes, probably just as much as he.
What harm, but to his heart. Yet he couldn't have stopped if his life depended on it. He'd have simply kept going and
let his life subside. It didn't matter. What mattered was the beauty that pressed into him, pulling him closer, the one
who began the kiss that made him lose his breath. Those soft, sweet lips...
Ilmar, please...
He turned fully to his side, careful to support her with that one arm, his other hand rising to cup her chin as he dove
into the kiss with everything he had. She could ask anything of him, she'd have it. He would break his own heart for
her, over and over again.
Let the day begin. They could cover ground when they finally got moving. For now, he was going to take all he
could...and give back just the same.
She could feel Maldor responding to her kiss, to her touch, to their nearness. She knew the hand that now gently
cupped her chin had done unspeakable things to others, but somehow it bothered her not. For deep down inside, she
knew it had not been his own desires, his own intentions guiding that hand, but something hideous and evil that was
using him to do what it couldn't. It fed off the fear and terror of others for its strength. But it was all a lie. No matter
how many victims it took - or rather, forced Maldor to take for it - no matter how close it got to breaking through that
barrier back into the physical world, it would never achieve its goals. The energy needed to do so increased
exponentially and so it would continue for eternity until there was nothing left to feed upon. This was the irony of
Ungoliant's plan. Ilmar knew the truth, so she could not blame the messenger for the message it carried.
She pulled back slightly from the kiss, and looked into Maldor's eyes. What is it? What, beyond what we are fighting,
troubles you? she asked softly, her soft fingers brushing along his cheekbone.
The hands that now touched her were under oath never to hurt her. Maldor made his promise and he would see it was
kept, even if it meant his own life. Of all the people in the world, Ilmar was the one he would protect to his last
breath. Somehow...she had won his heart, broken through the ice and rock that surrounded his heart for so long. Ice
and rock he'd not intended to be there. Not to this degree. But the breaking of it left him vulnerable, shaken, afraid of
being exposed. It was a feeling of being shown to the world bare of all protection, clothing, and confidence. The
courage he carried because of Ungoliant's work on him was dwindling fast, and it felt...raw.
He met her gaze, head tilted, expression soft as her voice. I am only a man revelling in the soft sweetness of a
beautiful woman with a beautiful soul. Poetic words, truthful words. But it was a sin of omission. The rest he carried
would be his own private burden. He had no intention of ever telling Ilmar he'd fallen in love with her.
And nor would Ilmar admit her feelings for him, for hers was a precarious position, fated to wander the earth helping
others live their lives, but never getting to live hers. Such it was for she had, she now realised, wasted so much time on
the lost cause of Melkor. But still, there were good times in the beginning as with any relationship. Those were the
memories that she clung to; those were the memories that had kept her going all those years, hoping beyond hope that
perhaps someday he might snap out of whatever spell he was under and return to those days loving her. But it was
never to be. Now he was gone and she was left with nothing. But this man, this human with a frail heart and even
frailer soul, had pushed aside all those memories, and heartache in only a few days. She was surprised how she hadn't
really thought of Melkor for the last few days and it gave her hope that she could be rid of him for once and for all.
She had Maldor now, and for now anyway, he needed her more than anyone ever had before.
Ilmar smiled at him softly and tilted her head too, prime position for another kiss. You are far too kind to me, my

dear. I suppose we should rise, but, I am loathe to leave this comfort in your arms.
Then do not leave. Stay. Stay and let us both find out what could be. I swear, Ilmar...I will never show you all the
blood of my past. I would cherish you, treasure you.
But who am I fooling? It can never be.
Her closeness was a knife in his heart, and a piercing pain in his head as Ungoliant fought the feelings that washed
through him. She raged against it, causing him to close his eyes and groan softly. But...he wouldn't give in. He reached
down to guide her leg up over his, higher, and then slide that hand up her form to cup her face again.
Stay, Ilmar. The words were simple, and his blue-grey eyes met with the emerald ones he could swim in. Get lost
in. Live in. Just a moment more.
Whispering, he closed in to kiss her, mouth slanted, open, demanding but so giving. Just a moment more. Then he
swore he'd let them rise and get back on the road. Just a moment more.

She had no problem staying a moment or two more. Her leg followed his lead and wrapped around him, pulling her
lower half closer, pressed against his tightly, feeling his warmth against bare skin as all she wore was her tunic and
delicate small wears. Though she didn't expect any more than this, it was quite enough just to feel him against her
once more; to once more feel alive. She longed for the day that she could once again enjoy such things without having
so many troubles to interfere.
She was going to test his will. He hadn't intended to get quite that close...or had he? Somewhere in the kiss, a long
sigh was emitted, his breath stolen with her closeness. He'd have given a lot to let go and forget their journey for a
while, to take advantage of the moment and apparent willingness of her. He'd have given a lot to roll her to her back
and forget everything they'd ever known, to spend the day lost in passion and calling to each other. He had to settle
and couldn't complain despite how awake his body was nowwith this kiss, this one kiss he drew out until his lungs
were screaming, until he was breathless and panting when he pulled back. We need to move on.
The sigh she gave was almost heartbreaking. I know. Very well then. Another moment's hesitation, then she began
to carefully extricate herself from within his arms, also removing her leg from over his hip. She offered an apologetic
smile before removing her hand from his hair as well and rolled over onto her back to stretch her muscles completely.
Maldor: It wasn't that he wanted to go, but...were they to lay there any longer, as if they woke each morning that way
and hadn't they three mornings running now?--he would forget their objective and the fact they were out in the
open. Strangely, it was her hand in his hair he wanted back so badly. That, more than anything, needed to return.
Maldor would have to settle with waiting to see if it would happen again. His expression matched hers, but as she
rolled away, he sat up. And winced. *That* was why he needed to move away from her. Reaching for his boots, he
drew them on, busying himself with the task. It would be a long, hard day in the saddle, and it was better to think of
that than the woman beside him. Grabbing for his belt, he pushed to his feet to wrap it about his hips and buckle it.
Yes, he'd think of the ride ahead. Or die trying.
Ilmar watched him from where she lay on the ground. As he sat silently pulling on his boots, she could sense
something was wrong. Since he wouldn't talk to her, she could only surmise that perhaps she had overstepped the
mark? That their lovemaking the day before was just a one-off? She sat up and pulled on her breeches then her boots,
as he had done, also in contemplative silence. Only hers was full of disappointment and sadness. She would have to
back off and not be so clingy. Perhaps she just wasn't his type?
She stood and made her way down to the stream, grabbing the horses' reins as she passed, leading them down for
some water. When she got there, she crouched by the stream and splashed her face and neck, trying to convince herself
that she was just imagining things. She couldn't let these thoughts preoccupy her on the ride, or she'd only upset
herself. It was only her imagination. It had to be.
Something was wrong. He could tell. And he knew it was his own fault. But the why is what eluded him. Was she
really so upset at ending their kissing? She couldn't possibly have a true interest in him. Certainly not, with all she
knew of him. And it didn't matter that he hadn't been responsible for most of it, if not all of it. He wouldn't see it that
way. He saw himself as something worthless in comparison with someone as pure as she was. Maybe it was just the
company she needed, the companionship and closeness to ease the loneliness of her strange and wondrous existence.
Maybe he hadn't given her enough time. He wanted her. There was no question there. But what he wanted was to hold
her, to make it right this time. Yesterday had been...a disaster. He was still ashamed of his weakness, of almost hurting
her. He wanted it to be right, for her to have some memory of him that was decent. He knew he'd never get that chance
now. Sighing heavily, he cleared their sleeping space, his expression dark.

Ilmar returned with the horses some while later, her own mood sombre at the thought that Maldor no longer wanted
her. She just couldn't seem to shake the thought from her head no matter how hard she tried. But she put on a brave
face as best she could as she packed up the rest of their things onto the horses in preparation to leave. She didn't even
bother with breakfast, not really hungry for anything at the moment, just climbed aboard her horse and waited for
Maldor to do likewise.
Her silence hurt like a wound. It ached and stung. But like her, he remained utterly silent, packing, ignoring a
morning meal of any kind. What was the point? His stomach couldn't handle it anyway. The bedrolls were secured,
stowed on the backs of their saddles once she came back with the horses. Before mounting, he spent a moment of quiet
with his forehead to Ortherion's.
I can do this. Tell me, old friend, that I can. We must travel quickly, but the faster we do this, the sooner she'll be gone.
How do I willingly hasten that?
Climbing into the saddle, he took the reins, took a breath. The great black stallion was brought in along side her own
horse...and he stood in the saddle, leaning toward her.
"Ilmar..." One hand cupped the back of her neck, bringing her toward him, his mouth claiming hers. It was a hard
kiss, but...not one to attempt ownership. A branding, filled with words that couldn't be spoken. It softened as he went,
was tender by the time he broke it. Without a word, he nudged his horse forward and back onto their road.
The kiss took Ilmar completely by surprise but by the end she had completely melted, all her fears evaporated. Before
she could gather her thoughts, he had started to ride off, back towards the road. She sat upon Thinnor, staring after
him for a few moments, before hurrying to catch up, with a final glance back to make sure they'd left nothing behind.
When she caught up she rode close beside him and stared at him, wordlessly. She didn't know what to make of this
whole situation, of what was going through his mind, but it certainly wasn't that he was rejecting her. That kiss said
that much. No doubt he was afraid, yes, that must be it. He is fearful of what lay in store. He cannot have imagined
three days before that he would now be on his way to Rivendell with a maia to borrow an ancient weapon that may or
may not even exist to battle the idea of an ancient monster who is trying to break into their world. If someone had said
that a few days ago, surely his response would have been to laugh in their face. Yet, here they were, and the danger
was very very real. That had to be it. That now that he had finally entered the light, he might not be allowed to stay
long.
Ilmar sighed and took his hand in hers, smiling softly in encouragement.
Then he had done what he wanted with it. The kiss had been meant to ease whatever had bothered her, whatever it
might have been... He'd have been shocked to find she was upset over him. But then, maybe it was better he didn't
know. He wouldn't become even more attached, wouldn't fall further and then come apart when he lost her in the end.
It was better that way.
Her assumption was true, that he was afraid, shocked over the abrupt change in his life over the last few days. But it
was so much more. Down to the end, he'd claim this, though. Never what was in his heart. Never. He wouldn't place
that on her, wouldn't make her walk away knowing she took his heart with her. He would keep his head high, his back
straight, his look determined. He would be strong.
Everything HE said I would never be.

He was unaware of her stare at first, lost in his thoughts, then he looked over...and found her looking at him. That was
when she took his hand and smiled. His hold on her hand was possessive, more than he meant it to be. For a moment,
he was surprised to find her staring, then smiled back. Just a little, almost shy-like.
And when he looked ahead again, his expression was contentment.
The air now cleared of any misunderstandings, the rest of the journey was passed pleasantly enough. The next ten days
were quite uneventful and they made it to Rivendell in record time. As they approached one of the secret paths into the
Valley of Imladris, rain began to fall. But this did nothing to dampen their moods. They were finally there.
They took the horses one by one through a narrow path cut into the rocky hills that surrounded the valley. When they
emerged, the view before them was breathtaking. Organic-looking building that seemed to grow from the earth and
trees. There were terraces on nearly every building, including the large one in the centre. And the waterfalls. There
were waterfalls all around, and they were breathtaking.

Welcome to Rivendell in the Valley of Imladris, Ilmar said quietly as there was finally enough room for them to
ride side by side once more.
The journey was almost enjoyable, would be completely were it not for the constant shadow of their purpose hanging
over them. But even when the rain fell, he turned his face up to it, as if cleansed by it. After all, it seemed Ungoliant
had lost most of her hold on him, and the attacks were non-existent for now. He feared the return, but what could be
done? He needed to go home.
Home. For what good that pile of rocks is. Nothing but disgusting memory and heartache. Emptiness and loneliness.
Except... Except for her. The light she brought to me. She filled that castle with a warmth that was never there before.
Even Jenlo began to see what I could have been. He understood. But what will happen when it's over?
He wouldn't think of it. He thought instead of his temporary freedom, and the hope that maybe Ilmar could break her
promise of locking him up.
He did not expect Rivendell to be so beautiful. Nothing could have prepared him for the vision he saw when they
entered the valley. Once again riding beside her, he gaped at the view.
"I never dreamed..."
Elves. The ones he'd despised for so long because of his father's hate for his name, the memory of his mother who
adored the Elven race... Imagine living here! What other beauty could be found here? That momentary image of
walking with Ilmar came to life again, and he was left breathless.
A place like this...had to house their salvation. Had to hold the key to winning this battle.
As if reading his mind, Ilmare looked over at him and smiled. "Beautiful isn't it? Are you sure you want me to lock
you up still? She has been quiet hasn't she? And there are many enchantments protecting this place. Perhaps we can
try this first night to enjoy our stay here? If it looks like she will be a problem, then I will do as you ask. But I have a
feeling it will not be necessary." Her bright green eyes smiled as well then turned away as a movement caught her eye.
Someone was descending the tall stairway that led up into the Last Homely House.
They continued on, their horses trotting briskly, almost as anxious to get into a nice warm stable and tucked into some
decent food as much as their riders. When they reached the bottom and a large, flat paved area, they were met by
stable hands who took the reins of the three horses, and Lord Elrong and Lindir. They bowed and Elrond himself
offered to help Ilmare dismount.
"My Lady Erinti, what a welcome surprise. To what do we owe this esteemed visit?"
She slid from the saddle effortlessly and bowed her head to Elrond, smiling as he took her hand and kissed it in a
chivalric fashion. "We have an important and dangerous task ahead of us and we need to ask a favour of you, if it is
even possible." She glanced over at Maldor who was now standing beside her. "This is Maldor, my companion."
Elrond bowed and offered a hand to the human. "Welcome to Rivendell. This is Lindir," he introduced his dark-haired
assistant who bowed in greeting.
"Are you sure you want to trust me?" Being locked away really didn't sound wonderful, but was he truly trustworthy?
He nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Her plan was good enough for him, for he hated the idea of missing out on one major
thing in this stay...her.
Silently, he was beyond grateful to see their destination for one reason. Exhaustion. His back ached, his behind sore
from so many days in the saddle when it wasn't his usual routine.
I feel old.
He'd later laugh to himself. Fool. To complain so when there's so much danger ahead, such a deathly fight to face. But,
for a moment, he allowed the thought.
It was only upon entering the courtyard that Maldor laid eyes on Elves for the first time in his life... Real Elves, not
some drawing, not even Ilmar's chosen form. They were oddly graceful, and somehow beautiful despite their
masculinity. Would that Men could be the same. While Ilmar was helped down and greeted, he dismounted, petting
Ortherion's neck. The black tossed his head, was given a gentle rub to his nose as Maldor came forward to stand with
Ilmar.
The bows of the Elves were returned, his hand taking the one offered by Elrond. "Thank you, my lord. I apologise that

we gave no notice before our arrival. This is most urgent."

Elrond frowns, his expression one of grave concern. And so it must be if we are visited by the maia chief herself.
Come, you must be weary from your journey. Where is it you have come from?
The plains of Gondor, Ilmar answered quickly. We made haste as best we could. We were fortunate the weather
was with us. Perhaps Maldor would like a meal and some of your most excellent cider whilst I outline the problem?
She gave the elven lord a knowing look, then glanced at Maldor to reassure him.
Yes, of course. Then perhaps afterwards, if he is not too tired, a brief tour of the compound? Lindir, would you be so
kind? The tall, graceful assistant with the darkest eyes nodded and smiled.
Please, Mr. Maldor, if you would come with me, he bowed slightly and motioned with a hand, the other always kept
behind his back.
I am the inferior one here, and I do no like it.
There was something about Ilmar's look to Elrond that rubbed Maldor the wrong way. He knew he was being left out,
and it wasn't his idea of how to handle things. Maybe this was something the others could figure out far more easily
than he, but he was still involved.
"Wait, just a moment." He motioned to Lindir to stay where he was, still looking at the others. "You'll discuss this
matter without me? Find the answer without even involving the one person most effected by it?" His eyes darted
between Ilmar and Elrond. "Forgive me if I seem out of line, but this is MY head! This is going on IN MY HEAD.
Should I not be part of the discussion on how to handle it?" Straightening, he settled his gaze on the Elven lord. "Or
will you simply decide on a humane way to end my life and thereby end the problem as well?"
The reactions were varied. Lindir simply blushed and melted back subserviently, knowing this was not his business.
Elrond looked at him with knitted brows, his confused look passing between Maldor and Ilmar and back to the
human. Of course, he didn't know what was going on in the least. Ilmar hadn't had the chance to tell him yet!
Ilmar, though, donned a look which was a mixture of surprise, alarm, hurt and anger mostly hurt and anger.
What?! Is that what you think? Seriously, Maldor? I merely thought you might like a break from this and see a bit of
the city whilst I filled Lord Elrond in on all the things you already know! But fine, if you wish to come with us, by all
means. Or is she in your head now, causing you to say all these mean things? After all we've been through? Now the
hurt was coming to the fore that he would think she thought so little of him. The maia shook her head and turned her
back to him, hugging herself to keep from crying. No, she wouldn't cry, not here, not in front of Lord Elrond and
Lindir, two of her dearest friends.
While the two elves made him begin to feel self-conscious about this outburst, it was Ilmar's reaction that bothered
him. He wanted to melt from view, the way Lindir seemed to. He wanted to escape, wished madly for his tower room
to hide away in, with his books and spells, his tools and utensils. He wanted the scent of herbs and the view of the
stars overhead.
Goddess, what do I do? How do I handle this?
Ungoliant seemed to have no reach here, no hold on his mind. He was very much on his own, and it was a sickening
feeling. For too long, he'd been utterly ruled by this creature, everything about him controlled by her. Here, he was
suddenly alone.
He didn't know how to handle it.

Ignoring Elrond and Lindir, he closed the gap between himself and Ilmar, standing at her back, hands on her arms.
When he spoke, it was soft, quiet, and only for her.
"Please forgive me. My words were harsh, and uncalled for. Let me come with you, let me be part of this. I am afraid,
Ilmar. My mind is so silent."
She stood there, hanging her head, trying hard to compose herself when Maldor approached her and placed his hands
on her arms. Eyes squeezed shut as he spoke and she took in his words and his apology. Finding them thankfully dry,
Ilmar turned to face him, her eyes full of that pain.

But is that not a good thing? To finally have her quiet in your mind, to know that you are finally in control of yourself
once again? I.. I do not understand. I would have thought you'd be happy! Finally she brought her eyes up to meet his
and saw that fear within them. She took his hands in hers and reluctantly nodded. Then you will come with us as I
tell Lord Elrond of our plight.
He might not have the stamina and years of the Elves or Ilmar, but he wasn't finished yet. If she wasn't going to take
a break from their fight, then neither would he. There was much to be done, and he'd give in no sooner than she
would.
But that didn't mean he wasn't a little afraid by what faced them, when he realised what the end would mean. The
silence in his mind was deafening, and after twenty years of some kind of word from the voice, this was terrifying.
What would he do when it was ended forever? Would he truly have the chance for a life? Or would he fall apart at
being left to fend for himself?
Alone without her, and with a silent mind. Any life would be bleak faced like that. And this is what waits if I continue
this fight.
For a moment, he almost pulled away, almost turned to find some place to hide so he couldn't be part of everything
that would, in the end, take her from his life. Instead, his hands grasped hers and a moment later, he looked to their
host, though he did not quite meet the calm gaze.
"Forgive me for my words. But I promise, when you know the details, you will understand."
Elrond watched on with interest. Clearly she meant far more to him than just someone helping him with a problem,
and he meant more than that to her too, though it seemed the man did not think so. The ancient elf almost found
himself amused at this, if not for the grave looks upon their faces.
Apology accepted. If you would come with me, perhaps we would be more comfortable discussing this in my study.
He bowed and motioned for them to accompany him up the stairs to the famous study of Lord Elrond.
Ilmar nodded and gave a tug on Maldor's hands, leading him by one to follow Elrond. Lindir merely bowed and
nodded, as he exchanged a glance with his Lord. Then Elrond turned and led them up the stairs.
Elrond's study was more than just an office. It was a long set of chambers, with a private office at one end, large double
doors leading to where his desk and some chairs, a fireplace and small sofa were located. The middle section was more
of a reception area with chairs for people to wait in, and paintings on the walls, mostly of family members, including
his former wife, Celebrian in centre stage. The other end was where they were headed. It was more of a private library
with walls lined with ancient tomes, scrolls and paintings. A semi-circle of sofas sat on the floor, with a low table in
the centre. At the far wall, which seemed to be the focal point of the room was a large, elegant fireplace, with a nice
cozy fire roaring in the grate. And, above this, as Ilmar's eyes and smile grew wide, was an almost life sized painting
of Gil-galad, the king to whom Lord Elrond had served as herald back in the First and Second Ages. But the regal and
handsome king was not what had captured Ilmar's attention. It was the long, golden weapon above it...a glaive, intact
and in pristine condition. It still existed and Elrond had it!
Would that he could have Elrond's vision and intuition to see the feeling displayed. He would have been fighting even
harder to keep his heart hidden away.
But there was more than his heart at stake, and so it would be shoved aside. He kept a hold on the delicate hand in his,
somehow comforted, reassured with her touch. It seemed a natural thing, his mind knowing, but his eyes on
everything else around him.
The study, in all its parts, was beyond impressive, and the low whistle from Maldor said it. His eyes ate up the sight of
the place, everything he could see as they passed. The paintings were exquisite, the shelves of books easily shaming
his own tiny collection. The time he could spend here!
Like Ilmar, his eyes were drawn to Gil-galad's portrait. And above it. His mind flew back to the night they'd gone
through that book and found the drawing of the weapons. When they made the decision to make this journey. When
he'd gone to pray for strength, offering his blood for it.
Was it possible, just possible, they had a chance?!
Ilmar felt the hope that Maldor was daring to entertain. She gave his hand a squeeze as she smiled, and turned to
Lord Elrond. Without even knowing, my dear friend, you have just given us hope for success. Please, let us sit and I ..
we will explain everything.
With a nod, the Lord of Imladris sat down, the other two following suit, beside each other on a sofa facing Elrond.

Carefully, Ilmar outlined events, leaving little out, except the more personal things, and told him of Maldor's lifetime
battle within his head with Ungoliant. Elrond's visage grew increasingly severe the more he listened, worry that he
thought he'd left behind finally, suddenly making a reappearance.
As her monologue came to a close, there was a knock at the door then Lindir emerged with refreshments; tea and
cakes on a silver tray. He exchanged a glance with Elrond who nodded imperceptibly, then left as quietly as he had
come in.
So. We are not yet rid of Ungoliant, he sighed as he poured the tea, handing cups to each of his two guests. What,
do you think I can do to help?
How did a person get used to being around such old and powerful beings? Knowing so much less, being of less
consequence to the world... It was like one leaf to the whole tree.

There was something in the squeeze of her hand that made him take a breath and simply meet this challenge. He
found it ridiculous that he was more nervous about this meeting than he was of battle. But then, fighting and violence
had become his way of life. This was...unknown, and frightening, as was the wondering of just what Elrond would
think of him once the worst had been described. He was sure to have seen much, but Maldor's senseless crimes were
horrifying and depraved. He was ashamed to sit in the company of these two. Knowing what Ilmar was saying, he sat
in stony silence, his head lowered, elbows on his knees. Near the end of her speech, he dared to look up, and was
almost childishly frightened by the dark look the Elven lord now wore. But then, who wouldn't look like that, hearing
this tale of evil?
He kept his own speech short, describing the mental attacks and how they stopped with Ilmar's presence. He told of
the voice's taunting, and how the words and attacks grew worse when he was defiant. Nothing was said of the jealousy
and rage shown by the creature because of his closeness to Ilmar. That he left out completely, leaving only the idea
that Ungoliant despised Ilmar in the classic good-versus-evil battle.
"Ilmar believes you have a weapon that could be used against Ungoliant."
His blue-grey eyes darted upward toward the glaive.
Aeglos? How can my dead king's glaive be of any use? Elrond looked from the weapon to Maldor, to Ilmar.
The maia spoke up first. We need something that has met such evil before, and nothing else exists. True, there is
Narsil but it has been reforged and I doubt Elessar would let even a maia chief borrow it. But Aeglos has seen battle
against Sauron as well and as such it would be useful, do you not think? It would not be our only weapon, but would
give us an edge over Ungoliant who will not expect it. Her words were desperate but held much hope. If you can
think of anything better, we'd really like to hear it.
Elrond sighed and sat back, balancing his cup and saucer on his thigh. I cannot think of anything else. But.. his
voice dropped low and he did not meet their eyes. I am loathe to part with it, it's all I have left of Ereinion.
Maldor was at a loss. He could well understand Elrond's dislike with the idea of handing over the glaive to anyone,
even someone like Ilmare. But he was also facing a fight for his life, for what it was worth. He was looking at losing
everything, quite possibly even if they were victorious. If they were not, he knew running would be no answer.
Ungoliant found him in Gondor, she would find him anywhere, given the time.
This was really no more than a battle of good and evil for the Elf and maia. For Maldor, it was everything. He was
only human, and quite insignificant, but he had as much right to finish his life as anyone else, whether it was sixty
years, eighty years, two hundred years, six thousand, or an eternity.
Finding his voice strange in its calm, when he was so used to the constant rage that usually surged inside, he spoke
slowly.
"My lord...we've no one else to turn to, else we'd not be here asking for something so precious to you. But we must do
this. At whatever cost."
Elrond looked at him, clearly turning things over in his mind. Slowly he nodded then stood. I will think on this over
night. In the meantime, join us for a meal and enjoy our hospitality of course. I will have rooms prepared for you and
you may stay as long as you wish. Lindir then re-entered, as if called, to guide them out.
Ilmar rose and bowed, having expected him to need time to think on it and grateful for the chance to rest. Thank

you, Lord Elrond. We are very thankful for your hospitality. With a motion of her head, she indicated to Maldor for
them to follow Lindir and leave Elrond to his thoughts.
Will you be joining us for dinner, my lord? Lindir asked him as he ushered his guests out of Elrond's study.
No, mellon, I will have mine here. I have much to ponder.
They went with Lindir, eating with the others of the Last Homely House in the dining hall. Then after dinner were
shown to their rooms in the guest wing. The sun, by now, had set and the night was clear and cool, a nearly full moon
rising in the sky.
With the conversation over for the time being, he mimicked Ilmar's bow, murmured a 'thank you', and followed
Lindir from the study. There was no getting away from the uneasy feeling, the part of him that began to wonder if
they'd made this trip for nothing. It made dinner difficult to eat, even if the meal was beyond good.
He sat in a chair in the corner for a while, staring into the room. What *if* we did this for nothing? Then what? Do I
face down Ungoliant with nothing but my sword? In that case, I might as well end my own life. I would have no
chance no matter my determination.
The silence in his head drove him to distraction. As much as he hated Ungoliant's constant whispers, this silence was
terrifying. He felt empty in some way, seemed to be completely unsure of how to behave in any situation. The wicked
confidence of Ungoliant's Maldor was gone, leaving him stripped bare and confused. Everything in his life had
changed, and would still further, if he lived long enough.
What do I do, then? What do I do when it is over, when I must pick up the pieces of a shattered life? When she-He denied himself the thought. His heart was already sinking.
I lived just fine before. I will do so again. I must learn not to feel it. Just tell myself 'I don't love her'...
Leaning forward, elbows on his knees, he began the litany, murmuring over and over the words. But the longer he
went, the more he tensed up. He put his head in his hands.
"I don't love her. I don't love her. I don't love her..."
With a growl of frustration, he abruptly stood up, hands curling into fists. It would never work. He would have to bear
the pain of loss when this was done. Bear the burden of the secret now, and the pain later.
Despite adding to the agony, he went to find Ilmar.
She had gone to her own room, tired but unable to sleep, so much was swirling around in her head. She knew Elrond
was loathe to part with Ereinion's glaive, and no doubt he would use this night to try to find an alternative. This she
welcomed. If they could find another way to defeat Ungoliant then she would be more than happy to leave Aeglos
behind. But for now, that was the only hope they had... that and the Balrog whip she had found. Maldor still didn't
know of her ability to become one of the foul creatures, and she was afraid if he did he might not like her any more, or
even worse, fear her. She had grown very fond of the human and dreaded the thought that he might ever hate her.

The maia sat on the balcony of her darkened room, looking up at the stars, her mother's work, and where she had been
born. Many things were flitting through her mind, but above them all, were thoughts of him.
Whatever method could be found to fight this creature, he would back it. He would take it and run with it, headlong
into the battle. It wouldn't matter. If the glaive was not to be, then whatever answer was found would be more than
good enough for him.
Standing outside her door, he raised a hand to knock, and stopped.
I cannot do this. Seeing her like this is only making matters worse. Just like kissing her, touching her. I cannot keep
doing this to myself.
But how do you pull away from something you so desperately need?
It's all about the battle now. It has to be. There is no alternative to this.
He knew he would fail utterly in this line of thinking.

He knocked on her door.

Her voice sounded far away. Come in.
Ilmar was perched upon the balcony railing, wide and elaborately carved in elven fashion as was everything else in
this impossible city. Her room was dark, save for one small candle near the curtained, four poster bed, also carved like
the railing in a theme of swirling tree branches. Her lithe form was but a silhouette against the moonlight beyond.
He was quiet in opening the door, thinking she might be ready to settle in, ready for bed. But what he found threw him
off completely.
So much for thinking I could do this.
He felt his heart crack a little more, but stepped forward anyway. He came to stand just in the archway that opened up
to the balcony, leaning against one side. He couldn't help the words he said. They needed saying, needed to get out into
the air.
He stood for a few moments, just looking at her, telling himself once again to believe she was real. She was real and...
"You look so beautiful."
The figure moved with the same fluid grace she always did as she turned her head to look at him, smiling in the
moonlight.
Maldor. Come, sit with me, she held out her hand beckoning. She had just been wondering where he was and what
he was up to, hoping he wasn't already asleep in his room. She put everything else out of her mind, determined to
make at least this night in such a beautiful place memorable and pleasant.
He would remember the vision she was for the rest of his life. The lines and curves of her, turned to shadow and silver
in the moonlight, the smile she gave him when she looked at him. That smile... It was almost as if she felt the same
way he did.
His steps were slow as he joined her, taking a place on the railing so that he faced her. "I had thought to simply come
and bid you good night...but I think I'll not rush. It is too perfect a night to rush."
He fought for further words, but none came. At least this much had been said, and even though he spoke of the starry
sky, he was looking only at her.
Aye it is, she smiled. Ilmar always wore that smile for him, for it was he that put it there. She looked up once more
at the stars, at her own mother's handiwork. That is where I was born, you know. Up there, where my mother hangs
the stars. But without me the sky would still be dark. She left that there for him to ponder, as she reached for his
hand and moved a little closer.
His eyes rose as hers did, but while she spoke, he looked at her. Why could she have not appeared sooner? Was he
meant to lose half his life before finding salvation? He was quiet when she came closer, his hand taking hers readily.
But when he took his turn to move closer, he closed the gap between them.
"Without you, my world would still be dark."
While the words themselves were true, the underlying meaning was much deeper than that. His free hand reached up,
fingers brushing her cheek, and then he leaned in to press his lips against hers in a slow kiss. The kind meant for a
night like this one.
Ilmar leaned into his touch, her lips readily accepting the soft, slow kiss. She could feel the sentiment behind it and
she felt her heart respond in kind. But there would be no time for such things until after their task was done, she kept
telling herself. But surely just one night...
She brought her hand up to slip beneath his hair and hold his head tenderly as they kissed. Indeed, this night with the
moonlight and her own starlight, required this sort of behaviour. Right then and there she decided she would, for at
least one night, throw caution to the wind and give him what they both so obviously wanted, but were afraid to speak
of. For one night they could have a taste of what life would be like with Ungoliant gone and their lives free to live as
they chose. For one night, she was completely his and this kiss told him as much.
This was going to hurt.

There was so much feeling in that kiss, the one where he put an arm around her slim waist to pull her up against him,
where he kissed her with everything he felt. There was so much feeling in that kiss, as if tonight was merely one of
many, instead of their grasp for something they only dreamed of.
This was going to hurt. By morning, his heart would bleed. But he was too desperate to say no, to hold back and
protect himself. And she was giving so much. How could he turn her away?

Tipping her head back just a little, he deepened the kiss. But only barely so. There would be no rush tonight, as he'd
said. Tonight would be what he wanted to give her, what he dreamed of at night. The kisses would be passionate, but
so much more. Not the physical, desperate, grasping kisses of the shallow moments so many others shared. This would
be everything.
He kept the kiss slow, soft, gentle, his hand refusing to leave the softness of her cheek, cupping her jaw, his touch so
light. She was to be treated like crystal, so fine, shining, and treasured.
If he had only known, he would have saved himself so much worry. But she thought he did, and so said nothing. His
kiss told her he did; his touch, his sweet whispers. They all spoke of him feeling the way she did and sharing in this
miracle of love. She thought he knew.
Of course she was Ainu, and there were those who would scorn her for being so base and with a mortal at that. But she
would argue against them for her entire existence, until she was no more. For was not love the one thing that united
all living things, from the simplest mouse to the highest of the high in Eru himself? This, this love was precisely what
she had been searching for in all her wanderings upon the earth. And to Ilmar, any love, no matter how fleeting, was
worth every amount of effort it took.
She felt no shame, no regret. But he did not believe it. Would not believe it. If she had only known.
As the kiss broke, she took his hands and lightly slid from the railing onto the ground two stories below, floating the
both of them down gently to be bathed in the full light of the moon.
Come, she whispered. I know a most hauntingly beautiful spot where no one will find us.
Each of them had their thoughts and feelings about this thing that grew between them, but kept silent. Yet their
actions spoke loudly of the truth. Would they each step back to claim it was this situation that threw them together to
cause this? They reached out to one another because they each understood the magnitude of the battle they faced.
And Maldor knew he had no right to think she would have someone like him, that he would ever be enough to deserve
her. His past was more than enough to hold her away from him.
But he would take this. He would never be the same again, but he would take what was offered and cling to it, be
grateful for it.
He had only time enough for a breath before finding himself in the air and on his feet again. His gaze flickered
upward, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Why does that not surprise me?"
Her words brought the hint of a curve to his lips.
"Lead me on."
She took his hand and led him through the grounds of the compound towards the deep ravine that split the city down
the middle at the bottom of which was the river that had cut it and what gave the place its name of Rivendell. Beyond
some trees and out of sight of all the various terraces and balconies was a sort of peak, sheltered by an outcropping of
rock all glowing in the moonlight. Here she spread out the cloak that she had somehow brought with her. Upon this
she sat and beckoned Maldor to do the same.
The spot was beautiful, bathed in the light of Isil's moon and Varda's stars, the scent of lavender wafting through the
air mingled with the quiet but constant rush of all the various small waterfalls that made this whole valley a place of
outstanding peace and beauty. It was ideal.
Maldor had never seen anything like it. He'd grown up believing Minas Tirith was a city of incomparable beauty.
Nowhere else in Middle-earth could come close. But now he saw Rivendell, with Ilmar's hand in his, with her right at
his side, and the silver of moonlight flooding everything. He saw it, and knew he'd never seen anything so beautiful,
and probably never would again. It was the perfect setting for her. For the way she glowed in the moonlight. He never

once let go of her hand, not even feeling his fatigue any more. All he felt was what she brought to the surface.
Sitting beside her, he got lost in deciding where his eyes should be. The sky, the world around them, or her. Though he
sat close to her, he kept his distance. More inwardly than anything. Did she expect him to continue their kissing?
Maybe, maybe not. But even just this, just being at her side, was more than enough.
Just knowing she was in the next room would have been enough.
"Now I see... Now I see the maia of starlight." He spoke while still looking up. "They shine for you, and you glow in
their light." His eyes dropped to her. "And I will remember you as you are right now for the rest of my life."
That will be a very long time to remember such a moment, she said softly, hopefully, praying beyond hope that she
was right. But I am starlight. Should I fade, the stars would fade. Should I die, the sky would go dark except for Isil
and Arien, the Moon and the Sun. No stars would shine again. But that will not happen. I know we shall succeed and
we the stars will shine brightly... for us both.
Her free hand reached up and brushed the hair from Maldor's face, as her own gaze, did not falter from his eyes,
forcing her thoughts to ones of here and now, and not the road that lie ahead.
He prayed as she did, but had already resigned himself to the likelihood of his death in this fight. At least he would
finally have peace, he would die knowing one way or another, the world would be safe from Ungoliant's secret rage
and evil darkness.
And it would shorten the time he would have to live without Ilmar.
"You will never fade, and you will never die." His words had conviction behind them. "You will shine forever. When
all the rest of us have passed from memory, you will be here, just as bright, and just as beautiful." There was no
sadness in his words, only pure belief and the confidence love provided.
Her touch, even something as light as this one which brushed at his hair, was enough to cause shivers in him. His eyes
closed for a moment, revelling in it. Only a moment, and then he was leaning in, turning toward her to kiss her as he
had on the balcony.
Her emerald eyes seemed to glow from within, as if they contained stars of their own, as they watched the human
before her. It was hard to imagine that only a few short weeks before he had been this monster who confessed to
horrible crimes and even threatened to do the same to her. Now, here they were, obviously smitten with each other, yet
neither would admit it.
As he leaned in, Ilmar did likewise, her hand sliding beneath his ear in a tender caress as their lips again met.
Only a few short weeks ago, he'd been a different person entirely, and completely unaware of her existence. His world
had been so dark, drowning in rage, hate, and a need to take it all out on anyone he could get a hold of. An unhappy
childhood had led to an early adulthood of discontent and need, and then to a life filled with evil.
Yet here he sat, beside the most dazzling being he'd ever seen, changed, no longer the shadow but something much
brighter. He wasn't the same man, but a glimmer of what he could be. And he was in love.
It made him stronger against Ungoliant. His love for Ilmar made him defy the creature that had held control of his
mind for twenty years.
His kiss was soft, almost tentative, lips parted just enough to hint at the possibility of something deeper. Reaching out,
he placed a hand at her waist, gently urging her closer.
Come to me...

Ilmar needed no urging to move closer, pressing her lithe body against him, arms slipping around his waist. Her
tongue accepted the hint and brushed against his lips, coaxing them open ever so slightly.
The maia knew what she was doing... mostly. She knew that her attentions gave him strength, but she wasn't just
playing with him. No, her feelings were her own and they were real. She wouldn't go as far as to say she loved him; at
least not yet. But it was getting there. The more time they spent together, the fonder she grew. And she definitely
couldn't resist these moments, when she could just melt into his arms and lose herself completely in his kisses. These
times were enough to make her forget about the pain she felt in losing Morgoth. Perhaps some day she might forget
about him altogether... but she doubted it.

In all honesty, Maldor had no idea what he was doing. If he had known, he wouldn't be right in this spot with her.
He'd have ended up forcing her to flee The Keep. But instead of the voice in his mind telling him what to do, it was
now his heart, and his heart was clueless about how to deal with love. He'd never been in love before, never been close
to anyone.
A silent sigh left him with the touch of her tongue, her body against his once again. One hand braced him as he
leaned, the other arm tight around her waist as he entered into the sweet battle of his tongue against hers. He kept it
slow, kept it soft, and let the moonlight erase everything but her and the stars.
As he leaned into her, Ilmar sank down slowly until she was lying on her back, looking up at him. A sweet smile
graced her lips as they were still engaged with his, a hand coming up to brush back his hair which had fallen across
her forehead.
Ilmar had no clue he didn't know what he was doing. Sure she had been in love before, an epic love spanning all of
time since before the world was even created. But that love had changed, mutated into something not entirely good.
Melkor certainly had forgotten their bond and the love they shared in the beginning; Ilmar never did. But a one-sided
love can never be. This was so much better, for she knew he felt something for her, even if he would never say.
Both hands now held his hair from their faces, as the kiss parted and she gazed smiling up into his face. The
moonlight illuminated hers and her emerald eyes seemed to glow. What are you thinking right now, Maldor? she
asked softly.
...A one-sided love can never be.
That was why he was so torn, needing to be close to her, but knowing he was only adding fuel to the fire that would
burn his heart to ashes when she was gone. He'd imagined it, and came back from the vision in tears, empty and
hating everything. Every moment alone, he told himself over and over to stop, stop his feelings. He couldn't.
Now he was faced with her question. And he didn't know what to say. Nothing else came to mind, and he desperately
wanted to keep his heart secret. It was his burden, not hers. She already carried enough.
"I'm not." He touched a finger to her lips. "Don't think, Ilmar. Just feel." His hand cupped the back of her neck to
bring her in again. He made no demand, asked almost nothing of her. But he gave. He gave everything.
And Ilmar accepted. She held nothing back as they lay there on the secret plateau in the moon and starlight. Her
feelings kept growing and she decided to say something to him once this whole business with Ungoliant was over. But
she still wondered why he said nothing of his, for they were clearly obvious in the way he touched her and spoke to
her, and especially the way he looked at her. A blind man could have seen how in love he was with the mystical Ainu.
He would be eternally grateful that she did not argue his non-answer. He kissed her with everything he felt, knowing it
was his one chance. Inviting her tongue to play again, he slanted the kiss more deeply, and began to lower her down,
down so he could lay beside her. So much like that first morning, waking to spend those moments kissing. But this
time, he would bring it to the culmination. He would not hold back.
His hand slid down her neck, slowly, his touch always light. Tonight would not be like the last. Tonight would be that
dream come to life for them both.
"Show me, Ilmar..." He spoke in a whisper between kisses. "Let me see the starlight on your skin."
She gave a soft smile and took his hand in hers, bringing it to her lips and kissing the palm, before placing it on the
front of her dress she had donned for dinner, to loosen her laces. Her hand then found its way into his long, dark
golden hair, threading through it gently as she leaned in to lay claim to his lips once more. Ilmar, too, thought of that
morning when she had thought he was rejecting her. This here, though, confirmed for her that he had only been
worried about the journey ahead. This night, they were leaving their worries behind at least for the time being. This
time and this place, did not exist in the real world where danger lurked at every corner. No, this was their world,
temporary and perfect.
He knew now one of his weaknesses was having her fingers in his hair. Every time she did that, he wanted to sigh and
melt into the floor. It sent shivers down his spine, making him moan against her lips. Those soft lips. There were times
he ached just to run a fingertip across them, to feel how silky they were.
How are you real at all? In any sense? How can you be part of the world I've lived in? Nothing here is like you.
He was slow in pulling at her laces, untying them with a single pull to one string, then slowly pulling them until the

long ends began to come through and the panels eased apart. All the while, he breathed her in, gave his mouth
willingly, and ached for her. Ached not only in body but in heart.
No more of that. Let me be!
He whispered her name against her lips.
She could feel the tension leaving him as her fingers slid effortlessly through his silken hair, making a mental note for
future reference that he was partial to this. As he loosened her dress slowly, she rolled onto her back, freeing up her
other hand to join the other in his hair. Then the first hand came around and she began to walk her fingers down the
front of his tunic, slowly releasing the buttons from their restraints, revealing bit by bit his chest, gentle fingertips
unable to resist dipping within to play in the small tufts of hair that peeked through.
She rolled and he braced himself, rising over her to keep the kiss going just a few moments longer. Another breath left
him with the second hand in his hair, until he was looking into her eyes as she began to undo those buttons. The
corner of his mouth turned upward. "Don't get comfortable. I cannot undress you if you lay here...so beautifully
arrayed." A fingertip traced her lower lip, down along her jaw, down the white column of her neck to her chest where
he skimmed down to her dress, tugging down on the fabric to reveal even more white skin. His head lowered and he
placed a kiss here and there across the expanse, the upper curves of her breasts.
"How are you so soft...? So very soft..."
I'm a woman. We all are. Men are soft too... she smiled as the buttons came undone quickly with her nimble fingers
and, as if to prove a point, her fingertips gently grazed over the soft skin of his chest. See? You are soft too.
With a little chuckle, Ilmar slid the garment off his shoulders, waiting for him to lift his arms one at a time so she
could remove it completely. That done, it left only his trousers and boots.
"No. No one's like this, like you."
His gaze was warm, heated like the moment, like her feather-light touch. Easing from the sleeves of his tunic, he let
her toss it aside, his hands reaching for her. "I've waited long enough, Ilmar. Back to your feet, and we'll be finished
with that gown, pretty as it is. It's you I want to touch."
I remember. It was once, weeks ago. I remember. I remember you, the way you feel, the way you sound. Ilmar, I'll
never forget. And this...this will be what it should be.
I promise you.
She rolled out from beneath him and stood. Watching him with a subtle smirk upon her beautiful face, she let her
loosened dress slip from her shoulders down to the grass below, stepping from it towards Maldor. As she approached,
her perfect form was illuminated by the moon and starlight, looking almost like a spirit freshly emerged from within
the waterfalls themselves.
Better? she whispered, smiling and kneeling before him where he still sat upon the cloak, spread upon the ground.
The image would stay in his head forever. It wasn't just the revealing of her body again, it was when she stepped
forward, coming to him like a goddess from above. For a moment, when she knelt, he was trapped, staring. Then he
rose to one knee, head down as if kneeling to a queen. He lifted his head enough to look through his lashes at her,
offered something of a smirk, then reached out to gently cup her face, his hands sliding down her form. Down her
neck, carefully over her shoulders and collarbones. Across and over her chest, cupping her breasts to flick his
fingertips over her nipples before moving on to trace the line of her ribs, her slim waist, her rounded hips.
"No being anywhere could be as beautiful as you are."
Lowering to both knees, hands on her hips, he leaned in to kiss her, mouth slanted with desire. He rushed nothing,
tasting of her but taking his time.

Ilmar closed her eyes and let her body drink in his touch, responding naturally with soft purrs or shivers until finally
giving in to the inevitable kiss that he then bestowed upon her. Her own hands ran up his arms to his shoulders,
pulling him close until their chests collided, warm and exciting though comforting at the same time.
Her hands then slid down his shoulder blades to the small of his back, where slim fingers slipped just inside the waist

of his trousers, sliding around until they reached the front. There they slowly unsecured them, taking their sweet time
in liberating him from the cumbersome garment.
Those little sounds she made could arouse a dead man. That collision between them was like magick, the press of soft,
but firm breasts to his hard chest. She was made like a dream. Something taken right out of the dark, erotic dreams of
any man, given life, and set in front of him. But she was also solace. She turned him on to no end and yet she was the
place he found his peace.
His hands rose to give her room to work, his own cupping her face within the kiss. Her touch sent shockwaves through
him, gentle now, but increasing as her hands slid toward toward the front of his pants. Immediately, everything of him
tightened, instantly wanting...instantly hard. A moan broke loose within the kiss, need spoken in a wordless sound.
Nimble fingers soon had his trousers unfastened and were busy slipping them downwards. As she broke the kiss, she
sat back upon her heels and concentrated on what she was doing, watching as she liberated his arousal. She pushed
the cloth down as far as it would go then leaned forward to kiss his chest, her hands at the same time moving up to
stroke upwards along the tops of his thighs, before moving inwards to stroke the hardness they found there.
She moaned softly with her own desires and let her kisses trail slowly down. But before she got all the way down, she
pushed him back into a sitting position, and wrenched the trousers off the rest of the way, tossing them, too, aside.
Starting again, Ilmar, on her knees between legs, ran her hands up from his ankles then leaned forward to kiss his
arousal with relish.
She wasn't the only one watching. He watched her every move, one hand stroking over her hair as her lips met with
his chest. A race of sensation went through him with her touch, the first stroke of her fingers over his length, another
as her kisses went lower. The suggestion was enough to make his heart skip.
He'd expected to rise to his feet, but instead found himself sitting again, legs out as she yanked downward on all that
was left of his clothing. The way she seemed so eager made him chuckle low in his throat, the sound dying into a
moan as her hands started up his legs. He swallowed hard.
Ilmare, if you do, I'llHe pulled in a sharp breath with the touch of her lips to the overheated skin of his shaft. Leaning back on his hands,
head forward, he watched, and waited for his heart to give.
She watched him for his reactions as she crouched on her knees between his legs. After the initial kiss, she brushed
her lips across the tip, working her way around the head, feeling the soft, warm skin against her full lips. Then,
grasping the bottom of the shaft with her hand, she began lavishing it wih her tongue as if it were an ice cream cone,
her eyes never leaving Maldor's face.
The tightening of every inner muscle should have been evident, he swore it was even if he didn't want it so. But every
touch she made, the brush of her lips, the touch of her hand, made him want to sob. She had a strong effect on him.
It took everything in him to make him meet her gaze and hold it, watch the lave of her tongue over him, and keep that
passive face. But his breathing gave away what she did to him. He would first hold it, then exhale and breathe again
swiftly, then repeat the whole thing. If she was going to continue this, he was going to need to learn to breathe all over
again.
Ilmar could feel the effect she was having on him and allowed herself a little, knowing, satisfied smile. Then she let
her lips take him in, just the head at first, inside her hot, wet mouth, the tongue still sliding over the tip and along the
ridge that encircled the bottom of the head. Ever so slowly, from then on, she took him in a little bit at a time until he
was fully in as far as he would go. Then she pulled the hardness from her mouth and did it all again, always watching
his face, relishing the pleasure she was giving him.
This is what she truly enjoyed. Pleasing others. Pleasing Maldor.
But she more than deserved pleasure in return, and the man she now made love to would gladly return every sensation
he experienced, revelling in her moans and sighs, the soft cries of his name.
A moan broke free at the first feel of her mouth, her lips wrapping about him. His head went back, his legs tense. The
slide down, down, to the base of the shaft caused him to hold his breath again. When she had taken every inch of him,
he groaned, long and low. His head came forward again, eyes on her. The sight of her mouth around him, practically
down to the root of his length, was enough to make him close his eyes again, hands curling into fists. He let loose
another moan.
Ilmar smiled triumphantly as she continued this, her hand at the base moving a little faster, her other hand caressing
along the inside of his thigh. His sounds fed her passion, his movement urged her on. Faster she took him all the way

in over and over thinking of nothing else but giving him everything she could.
She gave until he couldn't take any more. Over and over she took him right to her throat, and over and over he had to
try to remember how to breathe. The heat, the wet, the suction, the feel of her tongue all along the underside of
him...he couldn't keep track of reality any more. His breathing went shallow, his vocalizations rose slightly, and
everything in him went tense.
"Ilmar... I..." He tried reaching out for her free hand, didn't quite make it before the wave slammed home. He ended
up with a handful of her hair, just clinging to the dark tresses while he groaned and sighed, all but sobbed through the
wild spasms that rocked his frame and radiated all through his veins.
His grip on her hair was a little strong, but to hear his groans and feel the pleasure that for a moment consumed him
and know it was all her own doing made it more than worth it for Ilmar. She had felt him tense up and knew the end
was near as she braced herself, tasting the precursor, both salty and sweet as she then swallowed everything he gave,
holding him in her mouth until every drop was spent. Then slowly, she released him from her lips, letting her tongue
then lick him clean before licking her way up that line from groin to navel, then up through the centre of his chest to
his neck to his chin and finally to capture his lips in a slow, deep kiss, her body now pressed down against his, light as
a feather.

He hadn't meant to be so harsh with that grip. The moment he had any sort of consciousness, he let go, his hand
dropping heavily. She drained him! He would never have thought of her doing something like this. It was an act that
simply hadn't come to his mind. So its reality was staggering.
The feel of her tongue pulled another quick sob from him, the jolt sharp as he was so sensitive now. But when she
started up his body, he moaned softly, restless until her lips found his and he dove into the kiss with her. His hands
settled at her hips, holding lightly a moment before one hand slid up her back. He tasted himself on her lips, sighed
with the feel of her against him. He drew back just enough to take a breath and whisper against her lips.
"It's my turn, my lady."
But she wouldn't give up his lips so easily, nor the power over him. She grinned and shook her head. There will be
tine enough for that. When you are 'refreshed' I wish to feel you within me once more, she whispered against his lips
teasingly, gyrating her hips as she sat atop him. Then she kissed him again, in such a way that said she was his and he
could do to her what he pleased.
This side of her was interesting, so intriguing. She'd taken total control, and he'd allowed it. That was a first. Never
once had he ever given up control during sex. But with Ilmar, he felt he could. There was a mutual line of respect,
where neither would violate the trust of the other, though how she trusted him, he didn't know.
Her teasing whisper and movement made him groan, grasping for her hips again. "You will have me. How could I
deny you?" That kiss of hers told him to take his chance, and he rolled them, bracing himself carefully over her. He
didn't pull away, but kissed her all over again, cradling her with an arm. Every kiss was light, sweet.
"I have dreamed of it." He whispered against her mouth between kisses. "Dreamed of you." It was as close as he'd dare
in offering up the truth of his feelings.
But there is no need to dream is there? I am right here, she smiled, claiming his lips once more, her whole body
seemingly hungry for him.
She knew if she dwelt on his past, she would start doubting and wondering, but there was something about him that
made her trust him implicitly. In fact, there really wasn't a time after that first meeting when she he allowed her to
take the whip from his hand that she didn't trust him. Deep down inside, Ilmar knew Maldor would never ever harm
her or allow her to come to harm.
'I am right here...'
And yet so very far away...
His hand went to her cheek as he slanted the kiss, turning sweetness to passion, dark and delicious. But dark as it was,
it was still bathed in moonlight. Only they were, and the glow was like silver in his mind. A memory to last all his
days.
There was no denying the magick of her, the softness of her lips and skin, the sounds in her throat, the press of her
body to his. She brought him to life, made him real, and he fell further with every kiss.
Breathing her in, moaning into the renewed kiss, he let his hand trail down over her skin until it rested between her
breasts, over her heart. He did no more than this, feeling the beat there that was heavy as his own.
But surely he must underestimate his own effect upon Ilmar. For so long she had been with Morgoth and given him
all of her and he given her so very little in return. She was starved for love and affection and Maldor was finally
feeding that famine. If she brought him to life, he did the same for her.

The maia's hands moved up along his back, up his neck and over his cheeks, finally to his temples where they held his
hair back from his face so she could gaze into his eyes, the image of the moon reflected in green in both of hers.
There was nothing within him to believe he had half as much effect on her as she did on him. He didn't realise the
depth of her feeling for him, had no idea he was so important to her. They both seemed to need the same thing, this
genuine give-and-take.
He drew back, sighing with the feel of her hands, eyes closed as her fingers sank into his hair, then he was looking
down at her, and was frozen by those eyes. So brilliant, like gems, like priceless gems. He nearly said it. He almost
spilled his secrets to her. The vision she was nearly sent him into tears but that he lowered his head to kiss her, softly,
making his way from her lips to her neck. Reaching the soft place where her neck curved into her shoulder, he took
hold of the skin with his mouth, suckling lightly. Then harder, his teeth closing down ever so slightly. Rolling his hips,
he let her feel him hardening again, mimicked the rhythm of love.
Ilmar giggled at first, when he reached that point on her neck as she was very sensitive and it tickled. But then she
groaned and even gasped, feeling his teeth sink into her delicate flesh lightly, and then his hardness against her hip as
it grew in response to her. She did that. She had the power to make him react that way and she loved the feeling. She
moved her hips in time with his, her breaths becoming faster and shorter, heart pounding in her breast as she ached to
feel him deep within her core once again.
Oh, that little laugh, even in this moment, was so sweet. It grabbed at his heart, made him sigh. He tugged more
strongly on the fine skin of her neck, set on creating a mark there. He'd mark her for now, pretend she was really his.
But when the brand was there, the purple mark that said he'd been there, he drew back. "Ilmar..." How he loved the
sound of her name. So elegant, erotic, and beautiful. Earthy but ethereal all in one. His hand slid down her form, down
between them, stroking over the velvet folds of her entrance. A single finger slipped inside, instantly wet, warmed by
her.
"Now, Ilmar..." He breathed the words, taking her lips as he drew his hand back, guided his hardened length. He was
slow to slide within, careful, wanting to drink in her reaction. Once he'd pressed as deep as he could go, he stayed still,
sighing into the kiss, breaking it to groan at the feel of her.
Every nerve was tingling, alive with the sheer pleasure of his touch. How she loved this feeling, his gentleness, the
slow entry that spoke of tenderness and, dare she think it.... love. Ilmar moaned and gasped and made every little
sound that Maldor loved, telling him how good he was making her feel. She could never do this with her natural form,
though the intimacy that two Ainur could share was beyond even this. But that was oh so long ago, and the last time,
only in a dream... or was it? That was something she would never know, but this, this was here and now. This bonding
between them was important, not only for their battle against Ungoliant, who would no doubt try to use every trick in
the book to shatter their resolve and their teamwork, but also for themselves, especially for Maldor. He needed this
reassurance that he wasn't a monster; that it was that being of pure evil, of the unlight that had taken control of him
and forced him to do things he wouldn't have otherwise. Ilmar needed to know this too, for she could never lie with
such a man as he had been under Moru's influence. And she certainly could never remain on earth with him until the
end of his days.
Oh, Maldor, she breathed as he lie upon her, unmoving and relishing the feeling of being inside her, of the two of
them being one for this all too brief moment. She closed her eyes and relished it too, giving herself completely to him,
her lips embracing his.
Ilmar seemed to know exactly how all this worked. That they needed this, the bonding between them, the way this
would tie them together. And how Maldor himself needed some reassurance. In a way, he'd never let go of the feeling
that he was something dark and sinister under the desperate attempt to be human. To be something he'd never been
before.
Tied up in the kiss, he moved, slowly, so very slowly. He moved to feel every single inch, to know the glide of her
against him, all along her walls, all along his shaft. He moved with everything she thought he felt, that he was trying
to convey to her. He wished he could say it outright. This...would have to do.
Choosing a slow and sweet rhythm, he broke the kiss, nuzzling into her cheek while his free hand stroked the other.
His voice, when heard, was warm, low, and breathy. And everything...everything...was about her.
But to the maia, everything was about him. She, too, felt the movement within, every feature of his length against her
walls, his weight upon her hips, his heartbeat even his breath. Every single thing that made Maldor alive, Ilmar could
feel, inside and out... and it made her feel more alive than she had before. All her senses were heightened and she
almost began to believe that this fana she wore was real.
She issued forth more soft moans as well as whispers of reassurance, pressing her cheek to his, green eyes tightly shut.
It was as if she was trying to absorb him into herself in his entirety... and she almost said it herself, that thing which
he was trying so hard not to say, but everything to let her know.
Everything was different with her. And here, he felt free of the dark grip that held him within The Keep. He knew she
was safe here, even from him, for even with his promise to her, he'd nearly hurt her before. No, this time would be

beautiful and all he'd wanted the last time to be. It would be rose coloured and moon-washed and lit by the stars she
was part of. It would be their hearts in rhythm, their minds synced, and everything spoken through motion. If the word
love could be turned into a touch, the brush of his fingertips to her cheek, his lips to hers, would be it.
He moaned into her ear, drew back to capture her mouth again in another kiss. His hand went down to her hip, slid
down to draw her leg up higher, hoping the other would come with it and let him slide further. Anything to be closer,
part of her, even in this somewhat superficial way.
She took the hint and raised her legs higher upon his body, the cooling breeze from across the deep river gorge
evaporating any perspiration that formed upon Maldor's skin, giving her good purchase and preventing her from
slipping. Ilmar laid back, eyes closed and arms spread eagled just soaking up this human, before once more wrapping
her arms around him, hands finding their way into his hair. They then pushed his head towards her, mouths meeting
in a deep, hard loving kiss. At this position, his movements began to hit that special spot that sets a woman free and
her moans rang out in the night.
In turn, he moaned deeply with the feel of her wrapped about him, the deeper plunge. His pace picked up ever so
slightly, just enough to feel a difference. He watched her throw her arms out, a look of wonder and all the love he felt
on his face, to watch her revel in this act as she did, as he did inside.
His voice was heard again with a low groan at the feel of her hands in his hair, his kiss hungry, deepening with her
moans. Oh, the sound of her! Her voice was music, the feel of her tightening inside making him shudder with the
lightning that raced through him.
"Let go, Ilmar. Fly to the stars..."
He wore that same look, then kissed her as she had moments ago.
With his lips against hers and his voice in her ear, Ilmar did as he said and let go, letting the stars form in her eyes
and a shrill cry escape from her throat as wave after wave rippled through her immortal body. Her fingers left his hair
and ran down his back, pressing him more tightly to her, urging him to follow her to her beloved stars.
Maldor, come with me, come with me now! her breathless voice gasped low in his ear, breath hot and inviting as she
bit down on his earlobe firmly but not to hurt, trying to bring him with her.
His pace quickened again, controlled but slipping, so very close to the knife's edge was he. Her cry was erotic music,
the light in her eyes something no one in the world could ever match. He got a glimpse before his own eyes closed, his
head falling forward almost to her shoulder. But the image stayed in his mind, behind his eyes, glittering and bright.
Her voice heightened the feeling inside, the fire that swept him and shoved him over the edge. And, falling, he heard
her, felt her little teeth, and soared. His low cry was bitten, broken, and ragged, his body alight with the flash point of
climax. He was clinging to her, lost in feeling, lost in her, lost and never wanting to be found. Here he was safe. Here
he was cared for. Here he was alive and real. For once.
"Ilmare, I...I--" Thankfully, his words were silenced as feeling became too much, and when the storm subsided, he
couldn't think to speak, only breathed.
They came down from their highs together and Ilmar held him tightly in her arms, shushing him as he tried to speak,
her hands moving the hair from his face, and the beads of sweat that had formed on his brow. The cool gentle breeze
did the rest. Soft, whisper kisses then covered his face as she let herself indulge in the gentle intimacy of the afterglow,
this being her favourite part of this physical ritual of love.
She very nearly said it again, but caught herself and just placed more kisses instead.
Are you all right, Maldor? she breathed softly against his cheek.
He wanted to say it. Oh, he wanted to say it. Why could he not tell her? Just speak his heart and let it be done.
Whatever unfulfilled wishes he might have be damned. She should know what drove him to try so hard, to face this
fight and his possible death with so little fear.
He trembled afterwards, truly trembled from the power of his flight. Here in her arms, he was safe, comforted and
treated so tenderly. It was still a new sensation, one he might never get used to. But that was alright, because then it
would always be new, cherished and never taken for granted.
"Yes", he said in reply. "I'm with you." He could never be anything but alright if he was with her. He drew back to look
into her face, the fingertips of one hand brushing along her cheek. "Ilmar... Sweet, beautiful Ilmar..."
Can't you see what I cannot say? Is it not there, plain as the stars in your eyes?
Of course she could see it, and wondered why he did not speak what was so clearly in his heart? She thought he must
have some reason, and so she kept her own words safely locked away behind her smile. Then it occurred to her that
perhaps he was waiting for her to say something first? What if he was afraid she did not feel the same for him? But
that was ridiculous! How could she be this intimate with someone she did not love? It was impossible, so he must
know. Surely?
Yes, Maldor? she gave him what she hoped was an encouraging look. Tell me, just say it and I will know that all is
well between us. Tell me and I will tell you how I truly feel.
Don't say it! She's a maia! She's so far above you you should not be able to even see her! You're not worthy of her!

What will happen if you tell her? Will it win her? No. In the end-His insecurity swirled in his mind to an almost dangerous level. On the outside, his look probably made him appear
younger than he was, so uncertain was he. But...there was always some softness in the way she looked at him, in how
she treated him. There was always something there that wasn't the same for others. It seemed just for him.
Maybe it was the location, maybe it was the time behind them now, maybe it was just the stars in her eyes... He held
his breath, met her eyes, and spoke plainly.
"I love you..."
Ilmar's bright green eyes widened and lit up as a smile spread slowly across her face. He finally said it. And what did
she answer?
I know, came out of her mouth, soft and breathy, as her heart pounded hard in her chest. I I love you too... She
knew she had to say more and that just came out. She reached up to gently brush her fingertips across his cheek to
then settle in his long, dark gold hair, eyes darting across his face to try and read his reaction. Sure she was a maia but
she still had a heart.. and a very lonely one at that.
Her lonely heart was not so alone. His had been with it for a long while. How could he tell her? How could he say it
and think nothing would happen because of it? Ungoliant would make them both pay. But here... Here they were safe,
and so he took the chance.
And she returned it!
He didn't expect that. Didn't expect the swell in his heart, the way he felt like crying. He didn't realise this could feel
so...perfect. The world seemed right, as if nothing was wrong anywhere. All was well...even though it wasn't.
"Oh, Ilmar..." He whispered her name with wonder in it, eyes moving like hers, his fingers tracing the line of her
cheek and jaw. "Thank you." He gave an almost shy smile. "For trusting me, for believing in me." He pressed his lips
to hers. "And for your heart."
Gathering him in, certain he must be cold by now, Ilmar answered his kiss, feeling warm inside to have made him so
happy. One hand slipped into his hair, combing it from his face with her fingers and kissing him again. Of course I
believe in you, Maldor. And if I didn't trust you would I be here with you now, like this? Would I have given you my
heart? I was not sure if that was what you wanted, but I took a chance... She planted a slow trail of kisses across his
chest, each one soft and warm against his skin.
"I did not plan to feel like this." His voice was low, almost dark in the way he kept so quiet. "I did not plan to tell you,
either. I'm..." He sighed heavily. "I am not exactly worthy of the heart of a maia." Slowly, he shook his head, fingers
brushing at her shining, dark hair. Regardless of everything on Arda, he could stay this way with her forever.
"We should dress, at least, if we plan to remain. Shall you stay the night with me now? I feel I would be a little lost
without your company after these last weeks."
Her soft, warm smile remained as she listened, leaning into his fingers as they slipped through her hair. No one ever
plans to fall in love, Maldor. It was the farthest thing from my mind too, but here we are. And never think yourself
unworthy of anything. If someone is willing to give you their heart, then they have deemed you worthy. It would be
rude not to accept it. She kissed his chest once more then nodded.
Of course I will stay with you. I had hoped you would ask anyway. Shall we go back inside? I don't want you to catch
cold.
"I would not be able to turn away love like yours."
Though, a great part of him still wondered how it was even possible she could love him. To have belief in him was one
thing. A friend can believe. But to love. That was different. To have Ilmar's love was a blessing, and perhaps he
should take it as an omen, that this whole thing would turn out right in the end.
"I am fine, however we should probably return anyway. I would lay with you, in the quiet comfort of a bed, after these
many days travelling." That meant leaving the warmth of her, which he did slowly and with great reluctance. Sitting
back, he held out a hand to her. "Come."
Once they had dressed, he reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips. "I will keep my promise to you." With a hand
at her waist, he leaned in to press his lips to hers. "I love you so, Ilmar. No words will ever tell the full tale of the
depth of my love for you."
Ilmar smiled, returning his kiss with just as much feeling. I love you too, Maldor, more than you seem to believe.
With a hand to the back of his head, she kissed him again, this one deep and slow, filled with emotion and love.
Come, I wish to lie with you in a warm, soft bed. It may be a long while before we will get the chance again. Taking
his hand she led the way back into the Last Homely House and up to their rooms, joining him in his.
"I believe, Ilmar..."
There was a sigh within her kiss, his heart skipping with her every touch, twice when her lips met with his. Was this
really what love felt like? Was this the emptiness he'd felt all these years, the hollow place inside that would never
ease? The need that could never be fed no matter what he did? It wasn't something of Ungoliant's making. It was
something that had been there all his life.

Now he understood.
Laying in bed with her, he kept a hold of her hand, the other toying with a lock of her hair while he stared at her pale
form. He'd been blessed, and at a time he needed it. She'd come to him for a reason, and he was beginning to think
maybe this was that reason...not the fight ahead.
This...was everything.
Ilmar curled up with Maldor, both their naked bodies pressed against each other, one body warming the other,
protecting the other, secure with the other. Her cool, pale cheek rested against his chest as she sniffed now and then as
his chest hair tickled her nose. Together they fell asleep, her arm wrapped around his waist, her ear lying above his
heart. She knew what this was, and she was happy for it. Not only did it ease the pain of losing Melkor but it also
filled that hole in her own fea that even the Vala had never quite managed, nor cared to.
As Ilmar slept, she began to dream. They were again making love in the moonlight, until a shadow fell over them
and they were suddenly dressed in armour and armed with their weapons. They fought with a giant shadow in the
shape of a spider, though Ilmar was still in her own elven form. She winced every time one of the great black legs
struck Maldor, and, in her sleep against him, she began to whimper softly.
She was soft. Oh, she was so soft, a comfort in the night after so long facing darkness alone. With her against him, he
slept deeply, finally satisfied after so many nights when he'd want to reach for her while she slept, but never dared.
Since that first night in the chair, he'd wanted to stay close to her after dark had fallen and her stars appeared. During
their trek to Rivendell, he'd tried reaching so many times, only to pull back and force himself to turn away from her.
His sleep had always been light, never really refreshing, never really enough to keep him going. Sheer will had done
it.
Now... Whatever happened, he had what he wanted.
He'd fallen asleep easily, safe, away from the shadow that threatened them, and with her in his arms at last. He'd
spoken the words of his heart and found she answered with her own. Perhaps this was the turning of the tide of his
life.
In sleep, he took a long breath, sighed, and was beginning to drift again when he heard something. Something...
Something small and quiet, but plaintive. Forcing himself to the surface, he found it was Ilmar. He stroked her arm,
then her hair. "Ilmar... Ilmar, wake up..."
The beautiful maia stirred slightly but did not awaken, so deep was she buried within the dream. But his gentle strokes
and soft voice settled the visions, sending her back into a gentle slumber. Even then she clutched at him, curled up
against his chest. Then she shuddered and her eyes opened slowly.
Maldor, she breathed, almost in relief at seeing him here with her, safe and sound. I saw her... in my dream. Big
and black and nothing more than a shadow of what she once was. But nonetheless she was after you. Oh, my love, I
must protect you from her. I must. She gave another shudder and clung to him.
In truth, he wanted to shake her when she didn't readily wake. She frightened him, and he was hard pressed to keep
his voice low and his touch light. Nervous, he clung to her when she curled against him, his eyes bright with his
nerves when she woke.
He listened as she told of her dream, forcing calm into his voice when he held her tight. "It was only a dream, and we
are both safe. You see I am here with you, unharmed." Stroking her hair as before, he did everything to tell himself it
was indeed only a dream, and not some premonition. He wished madly he could pray and find some guidance for
them, for her sake. He disliked that she kept insisting she protect him, when he insisted on the opposite. One dead
human was nothing, but the loss of a maia was disastrous.
"Shhh... We are safe, Ilmar. Safe. Do not think of it."
But to Ilmar that one dead human /would/ be disastrous. She clung to him tightly, eventually letting his words soothe
and comfort her until she began to relax and her pulse and breath calmed.
You are right, Maldor. It was indeed, only a dream. Her bright green eyes raised to search his face in the waning
moonlight of their darkened room. Anyway, I will protect you. I will not let some overgrown pest kill anyone.
Especially not you, and certainly not me. The last words were for his benefit, so he would not worry either.
We shall defeat her, Maldor. And mark my words, when we do your whole world will be changed. With this she
smiled softly and leaned up into his lips for a deep, gentle kiss.
Something deep down made him believe she was trying to appease him, by agreeing about the dream. Was it more?
Was there reason to fear what she had seen? Even if that were true, he would fight without hesitation. For her, he
would fight until death.
But...he didn't want to die in this battle. He wanted to live, and see where this love would take them. No, they would
both come through. They HAD to! The last statement she made tightened his hold on her. Indeed, his whole world
would change. But how he didn't know. Would it simply be his freedom, or would there be more?
He welcomed her kiss, smiling in return, eyes closed as her lips pressed to his own. This...this was what he wanted to
fight for.
Eyes also closed, the kiss lingers until Ilmar begins to drift back into slumber, falling limp against his body, her

hands still clinging to him, though loosely now. Her sleep for the rest of the night is quiet and peaceful, though she
never relinquishes her hold on Maldor, not even in her deepest repose.
The dawn chorus outside the window was soft and gentle, though Ilmar did not hear it. It wasn't until the sun began
to filter through the trees outside the balcony that the maia began to stir reluctantly, groaning and moaning into
Maldor's chest.
He lay awake until she was asleep again, keeping the watch. His mind swam with thought, though, always swirling to
the fight that lay ahead for them. What would it be like? Would it be a true battle, or would it be more like magic and
shadow? Either way, he was screaming to the Goddess of his heart and mind to help him remain brave. For Ilmar's
sake, he wanted to be brave, to be the hero. Oh, he couldn't possibly, but what man didn't want to be seen that way by
the woman he loved?
Eventually he fell into sleep, dreamless and full of a faint blue mist. Calm, cool, sweet, and alive. He slept until the
dawn had come and gone, when the sun was climbing, and Ilmar was beginning to stir. Caught somewhere between
sleep and waking, he lay quiet, breathing, peaceful.
All because of her presence.
One green eye opened, then another amidst a field of dark gold chest hair. Slowly Ilmar moved, stretching out slowly
like a cat, shuddering as she reached the apex of the stretch which then ended with a mighty yawn. The yawn itself
was loud and almost obnoxious and culminated in a groan that faded to a soft purr as she once more wrapped herself
around Maldor.
Mmmmmmm morning, she mumbled contentedly, all horrors of the night's visions faded from memory. I hope you
managed to sleep, my dear, her words ended in yet another smaller yawn. Then she looked up at his face and smiled.
He could feel her stretch, felt the shudder, heard her less than graceful yawn. Had he been truly awake, he'd have
smiled over it. She was really adorable. Feeling her wrap herself around him again, he sighed and settled, almost
drifting.
Like her, he opened his eyes one at a time...though he only opened that first to look at her, giving her the sleepiest
smile. That eye closed again, and he was once again adrift. Then he opened it, then the other. Like her, he stretched,
wrapping around her as he relaxed.
"I did." He mumbled the words, turning to face her and nuzzle into her hair, still only half awake. "Did you sleep
peacefully after..." He made a small sound and just held her. Never mind. It was hardly important.
After what? Oh... yes, she remembered, vaguely. The nightmare. Well, it was only a dream after all and I don't
remember much. I did sleep very well. Your arms are very comfortable, my love. She nestled down again, knowing
they should rise and eat and speak to Elrond once more. But it /was/ so very warm and soothing here in Maldor's
arms. She pressed her entire naked body against him, nuzzling and kissing his powerful neck. This, right here, was all
she had ever wanted... to love and be loved in return. Even for a maia, that was a nearly impossible thing to find, so
she counted herself lucky. Could she be blamed for wanting to hold on to this?
'My love'. He'd never thought to hear someone say that to him. He'd never dreamed of it. Or had he? He couldn't
remember. All he knew was that it had been somewhere in his head since he'd met Ilmar. And now, she was his.
He sighed and let his hands move over her skin. "You're so soft, Ilmar. Oh, so soft..." He wanted her again, but it
wasn't the time. He could take the time, though, to kiss her, to hold her for a few minutes, and know neither of them
was alone. Not now, not ever again.
The kiss he gave her was tender and sweet, his lips catching hers in a gentle slant. This would keep them strong. This
would keep them bound together, bonded in light and love. This was all they needed to succeed to victory.
Pressed against Maldor as he kissed her, Ilmar smiled at his words then began to chuckle. But you're not, Maldor. At
least not part of you. She blushed as she held him, slipping a slender leg between his and bending it upwards just a
little, pressing home her point. I wish we could stay here like this forever. At least for a few days, she echoed his
very thoughts. But we have much to do before we can enjoy each other completely and fearlessly. But it will be worth
it, do you not think so, melamin? Her bright green eyes smiled at him as she kissed him oh so tenderly, something
she was never really allowed with Melkor. More and more he faded from her mind as she realised just how cold and
unfeeling he had been. What a fool she was to have ever thought she could squeeze any love from him. Maybe, in the
beginning when they were first bonded, but once he had tasted power that was all he longed for, all he lusted after.
Ilmar had meant nothing to him but a lone ally to hang onto. Nothing more. Here she had real love, even if it was
from a human. It was more than the mightiest of Valar had ever given her.
He groaned, let out a breathy chuckle. "I would apologise for my baser desires, but I cannot apologise for wanting the
closeness we have in those intimate moments." He went into her kiss, adoring the softness of it, needing the feeling he
could even taste within. "Worth every moment of the fight, my love. Worth it all."
The longer she was with him this way, the more she pulled him from the shadows, the more he realised the dark and
unfeeling thing he'd been for so long was dying. It couldn't reach him, couldn't grasp at his soul and trap him in
darkness, in the shade of smoke and power greed. He was free, and there was a light in him, just as Ilmar had said
before. There was light, and he was part of it, held it, lived within it.

With Ilmar at his side, nothing could pull him back into the evil, nothing could win over his heart and draw him
down into hate and death. No more would he walk in the blackness, but was now lit by starlight. He held it, and he
loved it fiercely. She was his salvation, and he was hers forever.
His hands slid over her hip, and he groaned again.
"I fear we must rise with the day. But..." He moved his own hips to let her feel him once more. "Perhaps we can steal
away a few moments later, when our work here is done."
Must we wait until later? It seems the moment is more apt now, before we rise, she moved her leg to rub against him
as she walked her fingers up his chest then splayed them within the small patch of hair in the centre. Her voice was
still heavy with sleep, yet her eyes sparkled with the light that shone from within. Her lips then followed her fingers,
passing them to kiss beneath his chin and up to his lips.
I am sure Lord Elrond would understand. Besides, I am Ilmar, maia of starlight. Who can deny me? she teased
softly.
"Is it possible you want me, Ilmar?" A tiny sound broke from him, and shuddered with her kisses. She could be so
very sensual! And he loved every bit of it. The corner of his mouth turned upward.
"I cannot. I cannot deny you anything." His own voice turned low, warm, and inviting. Grasping her waist, he rolled to
his back, propped slightly by the pillows, bringing her with him. "As I am yours and I faithfully serve the woman I
love...come show me what it is you want of me. Tell me how I can best please you this morning."
Ilmar laughed as he rolled them over, she now on top, looking down upon him. Her raven hair seemed to not have a
strand out of place. I just want /you/, in any way you wish. Let your imagination fly. She leaned down and kissed
him, holding her hair out of the way with one hand, the other upon his chest for support. I find you... she whispered
in his ear, nipping it slightly, irresistible. She sat back up, both hands now upon his chest, head tilted slightly so that
her hair was not in her face, and gazed down upon him with a soft smile about her lips. Shall I just sit here all day
and admire you? she teased.
The tingling of her nip to his ear spread all through him, and he found himself smiling up at her. "Who is irresistible
now, love?" Oh, she was! He remembered wanting to possess her from the moment he brought her to The Keep, when
he'd been so cold to her and she had been brave enough to open her mouth to him. So much had changed since then,
and here he was, laying with her, looking up at her with the love he'd finally admitted.
"May I admire you in return? For there was never a beauty so pure as yours." One hand made its way down her body,
pausing over her breast, fingertips drawn over her heart, then over the nipple before that hand continued on to her hip.
His look softened with love and desire.
"Whatever you do, Ilmar, please let me inside you again. Even if we are utterly still... Let me feel you, love."
Goosebumps spread across her ivory skin at his touch, the nipple hardening almost instantly.
Oh, Maldor, you're a free man, you may do as you please with me, and I will love every moment. She leaned down
to plant a soft kiss upon his lips, exposing her most intimate places to his. She loved to feel him inside her, filling that
empty place deep within that had remained a lonely void until now. Until Maldor's love had claimed her for itself.
Meeting her kiss, he kept it slow and sweet, just warm enough to match the moment when he took advantage of her
position and guided his body to hers, fitted against her, and slowly pushed within. Only then did the kiss break with
his sigh.
"Ilmar..." His hands rose to cup her face, fingers tangling gently in her dark hair. "I love you. Now and always." That
said, he claimed her mouth again, this kiss deeper, but no less sweet, and no more hurried.
She let out a long, deep sigh as he entered, her tight warmth enveloping him completely. I love you too, Maldor.
Whatever happens, I always shall. Never forget that. With that she responded to his kiss, gently rocking back and
forth just to feel him sliding inside her, much like her tongue was doing in his mouth. So delicious, so tight, so sweet
and warm and moist. He was everything she had been missing for oh so long, far longer than anyone of his kind had
ever lived, or even had concept of.
Whatever god or goddess existed, if there was indeed one, he was grateful to them for her appearance in his life. She
was the only light for him, the one pulling him to the surface to freedom.
His hips moved with hers, slowly, leisurely. There was no rush here, no reason to sprint for the peak. They had time to
enjoy it, the feel of her warmth and softness with every stroke. He could easily imagine a better life, one of light. The
lord of a keep that was strong and respected. A husband. A father. And he would never, never treat a child as he'd been
treated.
Maldor moaned into Ilmar's kiss, her lips a drug for him, so needed, so loved. He moaned, and forgot the world.
In a way, Maldor was also pulling Ilmar back into the light, by giving her the chance to save him. By bringing him
back from the darkness, they were both being rescued in a way. He from the dark world Ungoliant was trying to drag
him into, and she from the darkness of the past and her long existence in the shadow of Melkor. Basically, they needed
each other. They /were/ perfect for each other.

The maia rested her head upon his shoulder, now just lying upon him, gently rocking back and forth, just enjoying the
quiet, slow contact of the one she loved.
His hands roamed her form as she lay there, gliding over her back to her hips, cupping her rear for a moment. There,
he pulled her down on him with slightly more force for a stroke or two, then moved on down her legs as far as he
could reach. Then he came back up, hands sliding into her hair.
He allowed himself a long, low groan, a sigh at the feeling they created. So slow, so gentle. Oh, to spend his life like
this, holding her, with her breath warm on his skin and her dark hair spread over them both.
One hand went around her slender waist, the other cupped the back of her head, and his cheek pressed to hers.
"Ilmar... My love..."
She loved this too, the feeling of calm and gentleness, a peace between souls and hearts that only a deep-rooted love
could create. Ilmar was drowsy but not with sleep. She was drowsy with love and adoration of the warm, loving man
beneath her, the one she allowed to penetrate to her very depths of her body, mind, heart and soul. She turned her head
slightly and pressed a soft kiss upon his cheek.
Maldor... I love you. Never forget that.
With this she began moving once more, never fast or hard, but enough, just enough, to build them both slowly to a
gentle peak.
Safe. Loved. Wanted. Never alone.
Maldor was surrounded by so much that had never been part of his life before. No one had loved him since his mother
had, and now... The love he never thought to have had come to him. How was it someone like Ilmar could love him?
A mere human, and not the best of them, either.
Do not question. Be grateful. Love in equal measure and beyond.
"Never." He would never forget it. He knew Ungoliant would try to play on his insecurity, but she would never win.
Not when he had this beautiful woman and her heart, her hand in his. And this, the slow, sweet, powerful
reaffirmation of that love. He held her all through, kissed her softly, marvelled at her silky skin, and when the moment
of climax came, he did something he would have found weak at any time but now.
He cried.
Ilmar did not climax this time, but it was no matter. She was more concerned with Maldor and the tears that fell
gently from the corners of his eyes to the bedclothes. If she really thought about it, he had come such a very long way
in a short amount of time. He was completely different now than the cruel man she had first met. She never could have
loved that man as he was, but now he was everything she knew he could and would become. And she loved him dearly.
Gently she kissed away the tears and stroked her hand through his hair.
Maldor, are you all right? she asked concernedly.
With his own emotions aside, Maldor would have been upset to know she hadn't peaked with him. He was no longer
the man who took what he wanted--or needed--and didn't care about the woman with him. Ilmar meant everything,
and so did her ecstasy.
For now, he was trying to pull himself together, nodding slowly, forcing his tears to an end. His arms tightened around
her as he swallowed hard. "I'm all right, my love." His smile was tremulous, but so genuine. "Even with this shadow
over us, I am more all right than I have ever been in my life...because of you.
But nothing meant anything to the maia right now except Maldor and his safety. That's what love did to her. He was
everything to her, meant everything to her and she would give her own immortal life for him if she had to. Even this
battle with Moru, though in truth would benefit the entire world for a long time to come, was for the purpose of
keeping Maldor free and safe from her grasp and control. Ilmar couldn't bear the thought of him going back to what
he was under her influence. He had the chance of a proper, happy life now, and she was determined to see that he got
to lead it.
I love you, she said softly, her head tilted in concern, but a smile tinting her lips as she leaned down to kiss the tears
away.
"As I love you."
Ilmar wasn't the only one who didn't want him to return to his old ways. Maldor himself was appalled at the thought.
To go back and continue to bring darkness, fear, and evil to the countryside was unthinkable. What he had already
done was enough to drive a man mad. Torture, rape, murder... It was a living nightmare! One he wanted freedom
from.
She kissed his face and he moved to kiss her lips. She was always so soft and so very sweet. So gentle, even when the
kiss was hard. So tender when she battled him within the realm of love. It was a battle they waged together.
"We should go, love, and see if we will have an answer, or at least hope of one. As much as I fear it, I am anxious for
this fight." He kissed her again, his whisper strong and sure.
"I want our victory."
With a nod, she removed herself gently and rose from the bed, stretching out with her back to him, before heading for

the bathroom where she took her time, running a bath and slipping into the water. With all their lovemaking
throughout the night, she was quite in need of the bath now.
She was also in need of thinking over their plan, which she wasn't quite sure would work, not even with Ereinion's
glaive. How would they get to Ungoliant in the first place? If she could come through the wall into this world, no
doubt she would have done it by now. Perhaps it was the evil that she made Maldor do that enabled her to do as much
as she did? Perhaps it was actually as simple as cutting off her source of 'victims' by walling the whole place up and
forbidding anyone from going near as Elrond had suggested the night before? But that might not work if she could
merely change her location. That was an unknown and a pretty big one. She could just move and start things up all
over again. Yes, Ilmar as a maia could probably cross into her world, but there was no guarantee she could come out
again, nor if she could take Maldor with her.
And what if Moru got through into this world again? What was to stop her from unleashing her fury upon the entirety
of Middle Earth? Certainly one maia chief and one human wouldn't be able to stop her. No, Ilmar decided, she would
not risk that happening. If she and Maldor perished, then so be it. She would not risk an entire world for the sake of
two beings.
Like Ilmar, Maldor wondered if all this would work. Was it possible to reach their foe, and was it possible for
Ungoliant to come back into Middle-earth? It was an unsettling thought.
Maldor rose to bathe, cleaning himself up enough to pass muster by means of a cloth and a basin of water. He dressed
slowly, thinking to himself as if he were readying for battle. As if a knight with armour and the finest weapons.
Perhaps thoughts like this, which he'd not had since a child, would add some courage to his spine and let him see this
through with his head high, as he should.
By the time he was fastening his belt, he was ready for war, in his imagination. And maybe, just maybe, in reality, too.
He would fight to the best of his ability, and with the hope of saving this world from Ungoliant. Even if it meant his
life. Better one man die than the world perish in darkness.
And Ilmar?
Her life came first. Whatever her power, he would defend her to his death.
Ilmar emerged from the bathroom fully dressed in a long dress of deep green that made her eyes stand out even that
much more. Her hair was long and sleek in raven black and she had braided the hair on either side of her ears in the
traditional elven way.
Are you all right, my love? Are you ready to go and see what Lord Elrond has decided? If he agrees, we could be back
on the road by tomorrow morning. If he does not, I will try once more to persuade him. But I am maia, surely he will
not refuse me.
What a vision she was. Her eyes would always be a weakness for him, and seeing her now in such an Elven glow, he
found her even more beautiful. His former abhorrence of elves gone, leaving him to believe it was only part of Moru's
darkness.
Maldor came to her, his hands lightly taking her upper arms as he looked at her. "There is no one, on this earth or in
the heavens, who can match or surpass your beauty, my love. No one. I am sure Lord Elrond has seen the truth of our
need, and is persuaded. If not yet, then with your next try. He would not allow evil to threaten us all. He is too good."
His lips brushed the corner of her mouth.
"Let us go and see what our answer is. With you, I am fearless and ready for whatever will come."
Ilmar closed her eyes and intercepted his lips as he brushed them across hers. Let us hope you are right. But as you
say, Elrond is wise and he will know the truth of what we say. I just hope he will part with the glaive. We will have to
make certain reassurances no doubt. Shall we go, my love? She took his hand in hers and turned for the door.
Together they made their way to Lord Elrond's study and knocked gently upon the door. The door opened but it was
his assistant Lindir.
My lord is not here. You may find him out in the garden by the fountain. I know he wishes to speak to you both, he
bowed and offered to show them to the garden.
No thank you, Lindir. There is no need, I know my way. Come, Maldor, let us go see Lord Elrond.
Even with no one around, he felt a pride in walking beside Ilmar, her hand safely within his. His head was a little
higher, his shoulders a little straighter. Rather than think of his dark years, he felt as if he were only beginning his
life.
For a split second, to hear Elrond wasn't in his study, Maldor went cold. Was he gone? Would he make them wait
longer? But it was only seconds later that they now knew to look in the garden. Oh, let him be convinced of their
need! Let him see...
The walk led his mind to the night before, in the moonlight, under the stars. As nice as that was, he kept himself on
task, following Ilmar's lead to the fountain and Lord Elrond.
They found Lord Elrond crouched by the fountain fishing something out of the water: odd bits of dead leaves and
clumps of hair.
We are still finding dwarf hair in the plumbing of the fountain, even after all this time, he mused, then stood, wiped
his hands on his robes and looked at Ilmar, then Maldor. I suppose you have come for my answer to your request?

Indeed we have Lord Elrond. We feel we need some epic weapon to counter her building strength. We cannot afford
to allow her to cross over into our world. We will sacrifice ourselves before we let that happen.
The half-elf nodded as he began to walk, Ilmar and Maldor following beside. I see. And how sure are you that,
should I let you use Aeglor, you will be successful?
I really have no idea, Elrond. I'm not even sure if we'll be able to get close enough to use it, but I also have another
weapon that only I may use. Please, for the sake of Middle Earth, we need to at least try.
Elrond bowed his head, loathe to part with the one thing that he had left of his beloved High King of the Elves.
Ilmar then spotted Vilya on his hand.
Elrond, it is not the only thing you have left of Ereinion, she touched his ring gently. You have this, which is far
more valuable in that he gave it to you himself, did he not? He entrusted you with his ring of power. That is far more
of an act of love than keeping an old spear.
The elven lord had to chuckle. You are so right, my Lady. How could I ever deny that logic. Yes, come to my study
before you leave and I shall let you take Aeglor with you. Please enjoy the rest of the day and leave when you wish.
Dwarf hair?
It sounded awful. Dwarves, he knew, were incredibly hairy, and proud of it. Some men were, too. The very thought
made Maldor glad he was no better or worse than the average man. Too, he understood the concept of grooming one's
self.
But there was something in Elrond's tone that made him wonder if they would spend another day or six trying to
convince him of their need. When asked about the certainty of success, Maldor was a split second from telling him
that he would find a way to get up under the beast, should it be possible and she be solid. He would put himself right
before her eyes, if need be. But the conversation went on, and he fell to listening again.
The legend of the rings came to him with the vision of the one Elrond wore. So much was coming to light for Maldor,
learning of his world which he should have had ages ago, and it was making Middle-earth far larger than he'd
realised.
Elrond agreed.
Agreed!
"My lord... I know I am insignificant in comparison to the larger problem of saving the world from Ungoliant's
darkness, but this will also help me try to win my life and freedom back. And for that, I am forever in your debt,
whatever the outcome."
No life is insignificant, my friend. I only hope that Ilmar's plan works and that this deed can be done. The last thing
we need is the unlight trying to take over the world once more. Even Melkor had trouble with this particular
monstrosity for she is loyal to nothing but her own ends. And besides, I think you found your life and freedom the
moment you met Ilmar here, he smiled knowingly at them both.
Ilmar blushed, but clutched Maldor's hand tightly, rubbing her thumb gently across the back of his.
Elrond's words were not reassuring. Rather, they reminded Maldor of exactly what they were facing. No allegiance, no
fear, no mercy. It was sheer and total darkness they faced.
But that last...
He felt the heat coming to his face, but instead lifted his head with a look of pride. His hand was firm on Ilmar's,
warm and secure. He gave a small nod.
"Perhaps I did. And I treasure what I have. She is everything to me." His head bowed, but his eyes were not on Elrond
nor even the ground. They slid sideways to Ilmar, to glimpse his treasure.
They took their leave of Elrond, weighted by the task ahead but that was countered by the fact that Elrond had agreed
and they could go ahead with their plan. We should do as Elrond suggested and enjoy the rest of our time here. It may
be a long while before we can enjoy such a relaxing atmosphere again.
She latched her arm around his, her mind running through any and all scenarios they might have to deal with. It
would take a lot to get her mind off this if even for a few minutes.
Maldor's hand lay against her arm, patting lightly once or twice. Ilmar wasn't the only one who would find it
incredibly difficult to think of something other than the fight ahead.
He kept having visions, nightmares, waking dreams about the battle, and in all of them, he saw himself die. Ilmar
stood with Aeglor in her hands, but Maldor lay in the dust, his sword close by where it had tumbled from his hand. His
chest was nothing but blood, his eyes staring in shock, closing as life fled.
But Ilmar killed the beast Ungoliant. She was gloriously victorious...but alone.
Standing where they were, he gently extracted his arm from her grasp and pulled her against him, his hold tight as
though to protect her from being taken from him. Now that he had found her, he could not give her up...nor would he
give up his life and leave her behind.
Ilmar could not read Maldor's mind, but she could sense that there was something bothering him, though she knew
not what. She could hazard to guess though. You are worried about the fight, aren't you? You fear that we shall fail?
She slipped an arm around his waist as they walked and held him close. What if I were to tell you that I have a sort of
secret weapon up my sleeve? The glaive is for you to use, not me, meleth. But I cannot tell you the rest, for fear that if

she got into your mind again once we return she would see and our plans would be shot. She can see this, for I think
she already knows of the spear and fears it. But we need that element of surprise if we're to have any chance.
"Ilmar..." His voice came out so quiet, and so questioning. "You would have ME wield Aeglor?"
There was awe in his voice, too. But it wasn't so much for the idea of laying hand to such a prized weapon as it was
the fear of failure. "I do not fear that you will fail, Ilmar. But--" He said nothing else of it.
"You are wise, my love. Keep your secret, and I'll pray it brings us to victory...so I may be with you in peace, and every
night will be like the last, not only in atmosphere, but in feeling."
Tipping her face up, he looked down into her eyes, fingertips caressing over her cheek. The kiss he gave her was
tender, sweet and lingering.
I will not be able to, my love. You will have to wield it, but you are strong enough so I am not worried, she answered
his question. Then she answered his kiss, just as sweet and just as tender. What would you like to do now, Maldor?
she asked when the kiss ended. What else would you like to see whilst we're here in Imladris?
She had such faith. Such faith that he would be victorious, and yet Maldor was certain he would fall in this battle. But
what if, just think, what if Ilmar was right? What if he survived and laid Ungoliant in the dust?
He couldn't think of it just now. What he thought of was an answer to her question. He could spend forever in the
library, but shutting himself indoors was not an idea he liked. He had seen much from their vantage point the night
before, and now this stolen time together. What would he see?
"Show me the Elves' history. Something of their past, their heritage. I have shunned them for so long, and
thoughtlessly, I would now learn about them and find out what drew my mother so that she gave me en Elvish name."
Ilmar thought for a moment then took Maldor by his hand. I know where to start. She led him into the main part of
the Last Homely House and up the spiral stairs to a large walkway around the grand reception room, where, on the
walls was painted a long mural depicting the story of Sauron and his first apparent defeat, then the statue of a female
elf holding a sort of platform upon which used to lie the shards of Narsil. A new section had been added to the mural
on the opposite wall though, where the story of the second and final fall of Sauron was now shown. Ilmar went
through and explained it all from the beginning as Mairon, apprentice smith to Aul, all the way to where two small
figures with a ring were at Mt. Doom, including a small figure with horns in green armour who helped to defeat the
great hoards of Sauron. Then peace reigned throughout the land. Though now they had their own foe to defeat in
Ungoliant. Moru was a formidable foe, even giving Morgoth himself a run for his money.
Any questions, darling?
Her choice was perfect, drenching his senses in the history of both the Elves and Middle-earth itself. Much of it he'd
heard or read, but it had never been so magick as it was with her voice to tell it. Her words were a spell that wove
around him, drawing him into a world of history and the story of all that lay around him. Maldor was shaken and
strengthened by the tale.
The figure with the horned helmet was foreign to him, in looks, but important all the same. The name, he couldn't
place, but he new the person was indeed part of history. There was no questioning her about that. Though, even if
Sauron was defeated, Ungoliant still remained, in some form.
Now, to take down her web of lies and deceit.
He pointed to the one with the horns.
"I cannot recall a name here, my love. Tell me, who is this?"
Ilmar peered at the mural and nodded. That is Loki of Lorien, husband to the fair Fanfaenwen. They say he came
from another world, but that's ridiculous, of course. Isn't it? He was captured by Sauron's forces and taken to be used
against the free peoples of Middle Earth. But he was too clever. He tricked Sauron into thinking he was helping, but
all the while he was strong enough to resist and helped the very last alliance of men and elves to defeat him. Of course
the hobbits throwing the one ring into Mt. Doom was mostly responsible for that. But it bought them enough time and
distraction to make it there, she explained quietly, patiently as if she were there. But of course as a maia, she probably
had been.
Such a strange name. Loki. It sounded like something of another world. But that idea was impossible. Perhaps his
parents were simply creative. That made more sense.
Maldor remembered much of what Ilmare was telling him, having learned the stories from his mother. Loki's story
had been a weird one, but his dedication to saving Middle-earth had become legend. He also remembered his mother
telling him to always be like Fanfaenwen...to never give up hope.
Now was the time to remember that. To remember the courage of the Elf-girl's heart. Never give up hope.
"Perhaps one day, my love, our faces will be added to such art. You will be remembered as the maia who brought down
Ungoliant and her unlight. You will be the most beautiful legend of all."
Ilmar shook her head slowly, a soft smile lighting her beautiful face. No, it will not be my own face on such art, but
yours will surely be there. You will be the one to take her down. You have been suffering under her influence long
enough. The sooner we get home and deal with her, the better. She turned and took Maldor's hands in hers. I know

this is a beautiful, peaceful place, but we have work to do. Shall we set off back in the morning? Collect the glaive of
Ereinion and be off?