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The Summoning	By : pip Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 2995 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Tolkien's world, Middle Earth, the Lord of the Rings or the characters from it. I make no money from this.

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The First Time

When Melkor returned from the void, he built a fortress in the far north called Utumno, where the light of the lamp Illuin barely reached. Early on, he corrupted one of the most powerful of the Maiar, Mairon, and convinced him to dwell there.

Time passed, many thousands of years the two of them remained together, plotting. There was so much time to fill, and not much to fill it with. Mairon discovered first the pleasure of taking physical form, and he did so often, much to Melkor's dismay.

Mairon would wander around the fortress in the form of a wolf, although over time he began to prefer the form of a sorcerer with long black hair and luminous skin. Melkor tended to ignore his strange habits. He was a lesser order. Perhaps it was a weakness... when the time was right, he would convince Mairon to discard this new hobby...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For Mairon, it didn't take long for him to discover there were more pleasures to be found in flesh when he was the sorcerer rather than the wolf. He toyed with the vampire, enjoying the sensation of flight that the leathery wings granted him. His imagination was not limited to these, and he could have experimented further, but he began spending more and more time as the sorcerer.

There was a certain pleasure to be found in caressing his own genitalia, something that was impossible as the vampire or the wolf, and he had to practice long before he could experience the full promise of that pleasure without losing his chosen form. It required a certain kind of concentration and reflection, almost... meditation. However, the reward was well worth it, and since time was plentiful, he indulged often.

Melkor ignored him for the most part when he did it. Or perhaps it was tolerated. The Valar seemed to keep his distance whatever the reason, until one day when Mairon was laid back on a collection of pillows, in front of a roaring fire, his hand moving slowly over his hard flesh, teeth sunk into his lip as he snarled, his body trembling and shiny with sweat, his breath heavy and regular.

Mairon became aware of Melkor's proximity. The darkness crawled with nightmares and the air blew colder than usual. Why must you disturb me now? Mairon thought – much too loudly. Loudly enough to be heard, and he gasped in fear that he might have displeased his Master with his unruly mind.

Disturb you? A voice snaked into his head, like tendrils of smoke, muddying his own thoughts until there was only room for Melkor. Mairon groaned, clutching his temples, his arousal forgotten.

“Master!” he gasped as the pressure increased.

Do you regret our partnership, Maiar?

“Never! I do not regret! I am Mairon!” he cried out those words, the last especially as if to convince himself. “I choose you!”

The pressure in his skull decreased, and Mairon was glad of it, although it left the body he occupied with a terrible pounding pain in its head. He lay on the pillows at an odd angle, drool escaping from the corner of his mouth. The voice of his Master was ever cruel. Perhaps he should give in to dissolution and remake himself, but he might not have the energy to return for a long period of time, and he desired release. Mairon resolved to stay, hoping the pain would lessen. But then suddenly the pain was back, worse than before. Mairon screamed.

What do you do to yourself?

As the pressure decreased, Mairon struggled desperately for words, so put beyond his abilities he heard himself speak them with a tongue he'd never used for speech. Something in his throat vibrated pleasantly as he formed the words.

“Choose,” he managed. “Choose your body, Master. I will show you.”

There was a silence that lasted long. Long enough for Mairon to recover somewhat. He rose from the pillows with his aching head and wiped the drool from his mouth. He could no longer sense his Master's presence. Perhaps Melkor had left. But then he looked around, and his new penchant for actual speech deserted him. Melkor had chosen.

It was a gargantuan creature resembling the creatures of the unlight. Too many legs, but with the head of something more lizardlike. He couldn't be certain, since all he could see in the darkness of its visage were its eyes and gleaming pointed teeth. But then it smiled at him. Mairon heard himself whimper as he looked at it, or tried to at least. Something about its black darkness would not let his eyes linger too long. Its carapace did not shine, but absorbed all around it, as if the world it inhabited was not as real as itself. It moved forward, too quickly, its feet clicking on the stone floor. Mairon felt a sudden warmth on his legs as the bladder of the body he occupied let go.

“Something else,” he tried to say as it advanced on him, but his voice was only a whisper owing to his utter terror. “Something else, something else, something else...” Only the fear of seeing the creature in his ethereal form kept him tethered to his body. He could not look away, and even when the form resolved itself into something more palatable, Mairon knew he would remember what he had seen forever. That. That was the first form his Master had chosen. Oh, he would remember it.

As Melkor walked forward, it appeared he'd tried to emulate Mairon's own choice. Tall, lean, majestic. Long dark hair and pale skin. But his eyes were a dull red, like embers. Mairon had to look up as Melkor came to stand before him; he was taller than the Maiar by about a foot.

“Mairon is afraid,” he said, and his new voice was deep and hollow. But at least it did not drive Mairon to his knees in pain. That, at least, was an improvement. “Fear me.” He smiled, and his teeth were white, and yet Mairon could almost see the smile of the horrific creature hidden behind those new features. He gulped and backed away as Melkor pursued him.

“You flee, and you still have more courage than the rest.” Mairon forgot about the pile of pillows, and stumbled backwards over them, scrambling, unwilling to look away from Melkor.

“I choose you,” he replied, repeating his earlier insistence. He, Mairon, would not go back to them. No matter what Melkor did, he had made his decision, and it was the right one. The skin of his legs itched with drying urine, and Mairon concentrated, becoming incorporeal just long enough to be rid of it, not quite losing his tether to the form he took.

“Do not try to escape me, Mairon!” Melkor shouted, and his voice was too loud. The stones of the fortress vibrated, and again Mairon held his hands to his head, over his ears. All he could hear was a high-pitched buzzing, and as his sense of hearing returned he heard himself saying the same things over and over again.

“No! Master! I stay! I obey!”

“Good.” Melkor spoke as if just to make him quiet, and Mairon could hardly think with Melkor's new body pressing him down, where he followed Mairon onto the pillows. At last Melkor turned away to the side.

“What do you do to yourself?” The same words again, spoken this time. Mairon looked into Melkor's eyes, suddenly comprehending in a kind of shock. His Master did not understand the pleasure he gave himself. He soon would. Mairon smiled.

“Do as I do,” he said firmly, becoming the instructor in this for his Master. He took his cock into the palm of his right hand; it was soft and flaccid, but would not be so for long. He knew how to touch it to make it hard. He squeezed slightly and drew his hand up, feeling the blood move down to begin filling it as he watched Melkor attempt to copy him. It was an interesting sensation – like a rush. It didn't make him dizzy. Instead it was the opposite. His awareness increased, tenfold.

After watching Melkor, he looked back to himself and opened his hand a little, to demonstrate the correct pressure of his fingers. Melkor copied him again, his smooth cock filling out too. Slowly.

“It is... pleasant,” Melkor allowed, continuing the motion with his hand, quickly learning what felt good and attending to it. His Master's breathing was heavier, loud in the space. Mairon touched himself more slowly, watching Melkor's hand on his cock and his face. He would not stay to the end, Mairon knew. Even Melkor would not have such control without practice. Yet he said nothing.

Melkor moaned, lifting his head to watch himself, then letting it fall onto the cushions.

“I will stay!” he cried out, as if aware the end was near. Mairon gasped as Melkor turned his head to look at him, burning resentment in those red eyes, as if aware Mairon had neglected to give a warning. “I am Melkor. I will stay.” Mairon shook his head.

“You will practice,” he replied. “Just as I did.”

Melkor growled and turned attention back to himself, but before he could find his release, his form dissolved into the ether, while the room echoed with his dismayed cry. Mairon smirked and continued to work towards his own release slowly, letting his mind settle. At least until Melkor disturbed him.

Follow me... Now...

Again, the voice invaded his mind until he had forgotten all but the sound of it. He tried to stay, but it was hopeless. His nose and ears began to bleed with pressure, and he made pained sounds of misery as the body he occupied clung to life.

You will not finish until I do.

The link between himself and the body he favoured was broken, and Mairon followed Melkor into dissolution, his release denied for the first time. It would not be the last.

~ finis ~
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The Summoning