#anyway it's 1.30am and i'm ready to conk out so if there's bits that don't make sense that's why lmao

[mairatyaron]

💗- A memory about a good deed they did  

1: Almaren, Years of the Lamps.  

Mairon was so caught up going over Aulë’s feedback on the alloy he had been experimenting with he nearly missed the quiet sniffling behind the storeroom door as he breezed down one of the Halls’ corridors. 

Many thousands of years later Mairon would scoff at his younger self’s actions if he felt the need to recall them. Young as he was then at the dawn of Arda, however the situation was as of yet unusual to him-unnatural even, and his steps slowed without thinking. 

It...really wasn’t any of his business. If he were in the other’s position the last thing he would want would be someone he barely knew barging in and seeing him like that. It certainly sounded like whoever it was in there was going to some small effort to try and muffle themselves and avoid notice.

It was absolutely none of his business. He just needed to walk away. Go back to his forge. Continue his work... 

...damn it. 

Suppressing sigh and wondering what in Arda he was doing he gently rapped his knuckles against the door frame. The room’s occupant fell silent immediately, clearly holding their breath to do so. Despite assuring himself yet again that he really should just walk away the words bubbled over Mairon’s tongue before he could stop them. “...Are you alright?” 

Silence. Two deep, steadying breaths sounded from beyond the door. 

“Y-yes. I just... It’s the pollen. Yavanna’s flowers. S-sorry to bother you,” came the stilted, young voice in response. An obvious lie, it was the wrong season and they would have been able to alter the fana immediately to fix that if that was genuinely the cause. Mairon nearly outright said as much but bit it back at the last moment. He highly doubted the other would appreciate being blatantly called out like that.  

“Your voice is unknown to me, you are newly arrived in the Halls, are you not?” Mairon instead called back. They felt familiar, yes, but then all of Ilúvatar’s children had gathered together for the Ainulindalë. They had all been in each other’s presence for that event but that hardly meant they actually knew each other. At the quiet affirmation he received in response he quietly continued, mindful of his voice carrying to the surrounding halls and reaching the curious ears of Aulë’s other maia. “You’ve only recently entered Eä, haven’t you? It’s too bright, too dark. Too loud, too quiet. Too physical. You’ve only just created your fana and it’s struggling to process Creation, it’s all too much. Am I wrong?”    

The responding silence stretched on for so long Mairon nearly gave up, he had just begun to shift his weight to walk away when he heard the quiet click of the door’s lock. The hinges moved soundlessly and through the gap that had been made Mairon found himself staring into the silver, red-rimmed, extremely young eyes of the overwhelmed maia on the other side. The ainur’s bodies were ageless, yes, but their eyes without fail betrayed how long they had been a part of Eä. This one was almost the youngest Mairon had encountered yet. 

“I...I’m not mad? You feel...this too?” Their warbling voice was almost pleading, desperation saturating their tone. 

Mairon was, without a doubt, completely and utterly out of his element. He was a smith, he could fix anything so long as it was made out of metal, fixing people was far, far beyond the scope of his experience. That was what Estë’s maiar specialised in, not him. He could be making this a dozen times worse for all his good intent, Why did do this. He should have just kept walking and minded his own business.

...It’s a little late for that now, he thought ruefully as he stared at the other maia. Mairon had not yet learned to properly control his fana’s facial expression, and his uncertainty was written plain across his face. Thankfully the other was too distracted by their own emotional breakdown to notice.

Blast it. He could hardly just leave them openly weeping in the middle of the corridor like this. Mairon schooled his face into what he aimed to be a reassuring smile, although to absolutely anyone else other than the distraught maia before him it would have appeared very obviously nowhere near as confident as he was going for. “It’s alright,” he began evenly, speaking as if he were talking to a spooked hound, “It’s normal, do not fear. Many ainur become overwhelmed by the senses of the flesh when they first incarnate. You will become accustomed to it in time, it just takes some a little while to adjust to it all.” Eru, he hoped he was saying the right thing. The other’s breathing had grown less hitching than it had before so he assumed he at the least wasn’t making it worse. Encouraged, Mairon’s smile became more genuine, “Rest assured, you’re not mad. You’re just new.” He paused again, an early memory of his first months in Eä returning to him. He had experienced it himself upon his entry to Creation, but he was hardly going to admit that. 

There was a finely-linked chain in his pocket, a trivial thing he had made for practise and had every intention of melting back down to reuse the material. It would be no great loss for him to part with that. It took Mairon the barest moment to fish it out, in the next he was offering it to the other maia. “Take this, focus your attention on it’s texture, it’s colour, it’s composition. I have seen this work for others who have been affected as you are, by focusing the entirety of their senses on one singular part of the world it helps them to overcome the sensations of the rest when it becomes overwhelming.” 

The other maia was almost cautious in their movement to accept it, clearly dubious of Mairon’s claims. Yet, as they rolled the fine links between their fingers, forced themself to ignore the rest of the world and experience only this one small thing their posture began to relax. A few minutes later and they released a relieved sigh as the tension fell out of their body. Mairon could have honestly self-immolated at that point and he doubted the other would have noticed. Still...he had work to do, as no doubt did the other. They couldn’t just stand here all day. After a brief hesitation Mairon extended his mind to brush against the other’s, to communicate with them in thought and concept as they all had when they were as of yet formless beings drifting through the Timeless Halls. Amongst those who had taken physical form it had become a sort of intimacy practised between trusted friends. To be perfectly honest, Mairon was really not all that comfortable doing this with an effective stranger, but there was little else he could do to talk to them without risking startling them. Besides, they were so new to the world that they likely would not have learned to care about this yet. Probably. 

Remember, that is only an aid, not a solution. Once you feel you are able, go to Lórien. Estë’s servants will be able to help you. 

He did not receive a response in the form of words, only a sense of acknowledgement and the sweeping warmth of deep gratitude. 

Mairon withdrew and retreated back within himself a breath later. He’d done all he could, it was entirely up to them now. Sparing the other maia one last look he turned and briskly continued on his way. He had a lot of lost time to make up for after all that. 

2: Angband, First Age

The nér had lasted well, all things considered. The eldar’s voice had given out hours ago as the acrid poison Mairon had forced him to swallow burned through his veins but his exhausted body yet still had the ability to weakly writhe on the cold stones of the chamber’s floor. The maia clicked his tongue as he looked over his notes. There was no doubt his concoction was painful enough for its purpose, yes, but it was still just too blasted destructive. He looked back up, sighing in irritation at the blood slowly seeping from the elf’s nose and mouth as his breath wetly whistled from between his lips. So long as it kept devastating the victim’s organs like that it was useless for interrogation. Unless the person using it did not have someone with some level of healing ability on hand to counteract it the risk of the victim’s body giving out before they broke was unacceptably high. 

At least this version was a viable punishment for the leaders of the small rebellions the slaves occasionally attempted. The rest would think better of trying that again if they saw this was how they would eventually be granted death when they were recaptured. 

The sound of a weak, choking cough brought Mairon’s attention back to the ruined elf sprawled across the floor. This was beyond the eldar’s body’s ability to recover from on its own. By Mairon’s estimation it was going to take him the better part of a half hour to die. The worst of his poison had run its course but the damage it had left in its wake ensured the rest of the time the elf had left would be agony. 

...Regardless of the disappointing outcome of Mairon’s experiment, the elf had been very helpful, no matter how unwilling that help had been. The maia could allow him reprieve for that. 

In two long strides Mairon was crouching beside the nameless elf. Even as his body failed the eldar still retained the awareness for his eyes to fill with naked, animal terror at the maia’s approach. Mairon shushed him gently, lightly trailing his hand down the elf’s cheek in a gesture of comfort. “It’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you. You did very, very well for me.” The maia’s smile could not have appeared more genuinely comforting as he moved his hand down to the elf’s clammy neck. “Truly, I thank you.” 

The snapping of bone echoed through the chamber as the quick jerk of Mairon’s hand shattered the elf’s neck. True to his word it would not have hurt, the elf was dead instantly and would not have had the chance to feel it. 

The relief he briefly felt from the elf’s fëa as it was summoned back to Námo’s halls gave Mairon a small, true smile. Let it not be said he was not merciful when it was earned.