Chapter Thirty-Seven: Annatar

“I invited him to stay for awhile,” Gil-galad repeated blithely, clearly mistaking Elrond’s splutter of disbelief as the result of an awkward swallow. “Are you all right?”

Elrond I frowned slightly behind the napkin he was wiping his mouth with, sending out a wary thought to the King. *Might I have a private word with you after breakfast? In my bedchamber?*

Gil-galad nodded wordlessly, a dubious frown creasing his brow. The elf-lord sighed and shivered yet again as he raised his fruit-laden fork to his lips.

* * *

“You invited him here? What were you thinking?”

“What do you mean, what was I thinking?” cried Gil-galad, recoiling from the sharpness of his friend’s vehement exclamation. “I was being polite! There’s nothing wrong with a little common courtesy – which you could certainly use a few lessons in!” he added, eyes flashing.

“You have no idea who he is, do you?” Elrond I asked. “Do you, Gil-galad?”

“Do you know more about him?” the King demanded. “Pray tell!”

“He’s a servant of the Dark Lord! His right-hand man! Well, he’s not technically a man, but a Maia! An evil, lying, deceiving Maia from the Dark side, named Sauron! And you let him infiltrate your city! That’s what I mean by ‘What were you thinking’!”

Gil-galad fell silent for a moment, dropping his gaze to the floor. He looked up abruptly and cried, “It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it? He’s already on his way here!”

Elrond I bit back the curse that stormed onto his tongue. Instead he asked, in a voice that had calmness shoved into it, “When will he get here?”

“I asked at first if he could come back with me,” the King replied, “but he said that he’d rather wait a few days. So, depending on how long he waited, he should arrive here either yesterday, or–”

“Today,” the half-elf finished for him, his eyes riveted upon someone behind his friend. “I’m guessing he’s here right now.”

Gil-galad nodded slowly. “You could be right.”

Then he followed Elrond IÂ’s gaze, and gave a smile and a bow to the figure who stood on the threshold.

“Ah, Lord Annatar. Good to see you.”

“Good morning, Ereinion,” Annatar responded, with a simpering smirk and a ridiculously low bow. “I’m so glad to see you’ve returned safely.”

Elrond I gave a curt nod, forcing courtesy into his voice to mask his displeasure. “So this is the lord I’ve heard so much about.”

Annatar’s grin widened as he nodded in reply. “Indeed. Ereinion has told me a great deal about you, Lord… Elrond, is it?”

“Yes,” the half-elf affirmed, coolly giving the newcomer a once-over. His icy eyes roved from Annatar’s golden-haired head down to his black-booted feet, disdainfully meeting a pair of disarming, pale blue eyes set above a rather hooked nose in the sallow face. His robe was of deepest crimson, and his undershirt was almost impossibly white.

“Now, Ereinion,” said Annatar casually, addressing the King. “Didn’t I hear you tell me you’d give me a tour of your lovely haven once I arrived? I’d like to see everything that Mithlond has to offer.”

“Of course,” Gil-galad complied. “Well… this is Lord Elrond’s bedroom we’re in, and if you will walk this way with me…” He led his friend out the door and down the corridor, their voices fading slowly to silence. Elrond I stared after them, silently despairing.

What have you done, Gil-galad? he moaned mutely. YouÂ’re handing Morgoth your haven on a plate! Your people!

Heaving a sigh, the elf moved to his bed and sank down onto it. He reached slowly over to his bedside table, which was actually a small chest of drawers, and pulled the topmost compartment open. Inside was his chessboard, with all of its pieces intact. Thirteen Valar, one half-elf in two bodies, one Dark Lord, and fifteen shapeless, evil minions.

“Elrond?”

Elrond I flinched, jumping up and stepping hastily in front of the open drawer to conceal its contents. But he relaxed almost instantly when he saw himself in the doorway.

“Elrond,” he sighed, relieved. “Please don’t scare me like that!”

“Sorry,” Elrond II apologized, stepping into the room. “What are you doing?”

“Just checking up on a few things,” Elrond I replied, beckoning his younger half over to his side and turning to face the drawer again. Yes, it was just as he thought. The indistinct shadow on the miniature Morgoth’s right side had taken shape, in the form of Annatar. The elf-lord scowled as those blue eyes twinkled innocently up at him.

“Smile while you can,” he muttered scornfully to the tiny Maia. “I’ll wipe that smirk off of your face soon enough.”

He glanced up as something tickled the back of his hand, which was resting on top of the chest. A small smile crept up to his lips as he spotted little Lórien. Lifting his hand slowly and carefully to eye level, Elrond I nodded his head politely to the miniature Dream-lord, who returned the gesture in his familiar silence.

“It’s a pity he can’t speak,” sighed Elrond II.

Elrond I nodded. “Indeed. I wonder how the real Lord Lórien is doing?”

“You miss him, don’t you?” asked Elrond II.

“Of course! He was like a brother to me… like the older brother I never had. I only knew him for five years, but that was enough. And… I think he felt the same way about me as well.”

Little Lórien glanced up at him, lifting a tiny eyebrow. Elrond I’s expression changed to one of confusion as he added softly, “And there’s been something about Lord Mandos as well, lately… I think he cares about us. Really, really cares.”

“He has been going out of his way to be thoughtful,” Elrond II agreed. “But then again, he’s always been good to us… when he could,” he added with a sigh.

Elrond I nodded, sighing as well. “But this is different. I think it’s a lot deeper than that. I think…”

“What?”

The elder elf met his own eyes and held them as he replied, “I think Lord Mandos loves us.”

And somewhere else, hovering invisibly, the Doomsman heard him and smiled.

* * *

Elrond didnÂ’t see Gil-galad or Annatar again until dinner, when the two sat side-by-side at the High Table, deep in conversation. Elrond I inconspicuously spied on them, and was extremely worried by what he saw. Whenever the King spoke to the newcomer, an odd, vacant look came into his eyes. It was quick to vanish whenever he turned away from the Maia, but after a time some signs of dreaminess lingered, and increased.

“Something’s very wrong here!” Elrond I hissed urgently to Elrond II. “I knew Gil-galad should never have invited Annatar here! Look what he’s doing to the King!”

Elrond II stared, his eyes widening in horror. “That snake!”

Elrond I nodded. “We have to do something. If Annatar takes complete control of him…” He faltered, shuddering at the mere thought. Elrond II caught the essence of it, however, and cast another anxious glance at the monarch and the Maia.

“What should we do?” he asked uneasily.

Elrond I’s face was grave. “We need the Valar’s help.”

* * *

*Lord Mandos!* Elrond I thought desperately, as he and his other half hurried down the hall after Gil-galad and Annatar, toward the KingÂ’s throne room. *I am in urgent need of help!*

*You need only ask,* replied the Doomsman compliantly, swirling elegantly into view in front of him.

Elrond I and II bowed simultaneously, and the elder spoke again, aloud this time, but no less insistently. “There is something gravely wrong with Gil-galad. I think that Annatar – Sauron – is possessing him somehow. You have to do something, sire! This could change everything for the worse!”

“It is not I who must act,” the Vala told him. He sent out a thought to someone other than the elf, a slight frown flitting across his face. A moment later a second figure appeared at Mandos’ side: Varda. The Star-Queen’s face was no less grave than her kinsman’s as she spoke to Elrond, who looked warily up from his bow.

“Where are the King and Sauron now?” she asked him.

“They went in that direction a moment ago, my lady,” Elrond II told her, pointing down the hallway in the direction he had just been hastening.

Varda nodded. “Wait here.”

She shed her body and soared swiftly down the hall without another word.

* * *

Gil-galad shuddered slightly in his seat, his long, slender fingers tightening on the ends of the arms of his throne. His head was throbbing painfully, and he absently put his right hand up to it. At the same time, he moved his eyes to gaze at the figure kneeling next to his seat, who was gazing up at him in concern.

“My lord?” said Annatar softly, in a silky voice. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Gil-galad answered slowly, moving neither hand nor eyes. “It’s nothing.”

“Perhaps you should retreat to your bedchamber, sire,” the Maia continued beguilingly, lifting his own hand to rest it on the King’s left wrist. “You look unwell.”

Gil-galad didnÂ’t reply immediately. He hid another shiver, closing his eyes as some black veil seemed to flit before his eyes, clouding his vision and muddling his thoughts. All the elf could hear was AnnatarÂ’s sickly sweet voice, threading through his mind like a breeze through tree branches, twining like a serpent.

“Rest awhile, my lord… come, I’ll show you to your room…”

He felt himself nod, still shrouded in the dark fog, and get slowly to his feet. But a second voice, a cold, sharp feminine one, hacked its way through the mist like a shining knife.

“You will go nowhere, Sauron!”

The KingÂ’s vision was overwhelmed in an instant. All but blinded by a blaze of light, he could just see the lone figure standing at the other end of the room: an exceptionally tall, exquisitely beautiful lady with long, dark hair and a livid glint in her eyes. The dazzling radiance filling the room seemed to come from her.

Annatar, who was still standing at Gil-galadÂ’s side, did his best to maintain a cool front in the presence of Varda. He stepped forward and addressed her in an arrogant voice.

“Greetings, milady,” he sneered with a mocking bow. “How can I serve thee?”

“By releasing your grasp on Ereinion, and cowering back to your master,” the Star-Queen replied coldly. “Begone.”

Annatar’s wicked smirk never wavered. “Of course, my Queen. As you decree. But first, I have my orders to follow.” He inched back to Gil-galad, who was standing in a dazed stupor, and leaned toward his ear to whisper something. But the Valië scarcely moved a finger, and the Maia was suddenly sprawled on his back, ten feet away from the King.

He clambered to his feet, breathing heavily, but Varda wasnÂ’t finished with him yet. She snapped her pale fingers, and a ring of light formed around Annatar, that rose and danced like white fire. No matter how he attempted to, he couldnÂ’t cross over it. He was trapped, for a time at least. Now Varda addressed Gil-galad in a firm and powerful voice. The elf stared mutely back, his eyes half-closed and glassy.

“Hear me, Ereinion, son of Fingon!” she cried, striding toward him as she spoke. “Come back into the Light!”

Annatar let out a menacing growl, lunging toward the King, and was knocked back and forth between the solid-looking walls of the blazing ring.

“You will not hold me for long!” he roared in fury.

Varda ignored him, her concentration only upon Gil-galad. “Cast off the cloak of lies and darkness! Heed not the voice of Morgoth!”

The elven-king swayed unsteadily, his eyes slowly clearing up. Nearby, Annatar shut his eyes and threw out his hand. Gil-galad shuddered, and Varda sent a burst of light toward the Maia, which struck him in the arm that he lifted to shield his chest. He slumped to the floor again, and the Valië spoke once more to the King.

“Leave this shadow behind you,” she told him, in a gentler voice. “Step forward.”

He did, shakily, and no sooner had he followed her command than he gave a soft sob and fell to his knees at her feet.

“My lady,” he whispered, as tears dripped down his face. “My Queen.”