That hurts, sometimes. That Aulë chooses to not even notice his betrayal, he who was once among the most favoured. He never spoke of this to Melkor, but the greatest of the Vala knew anyway, and punished(rewarded) his mind for straying to his old master by driving away the pain of memory with the pain of the flesh.
For Melkor, like Aulë, is a smith, but instead of metal he manipulates flesh and mind and soul, twisting Gorthaur into new shapes, ones more pleasing to him. He never knew how or when his Lord will choose to come. Sometimes it was but a joining of the spirit, Gorthaur finding himself wrapped around in the Song of Melkor, so beautiful he could not bear to think of it ending, so intoxicating he was sure it would drive him insane.
Other times, Gorthaur took forms of flesh, and his submission then was made a hundred-fold more (painful)beautiful. Melkor did not stay long once he had taken his pleasure, but Gorthaur kept the form he wore for his Lord a little longer; he can see the marks on it, watch bruises blossom where teeth and nails once were.
He once made the mistake of taking the form of another, thinking that seeing such a one kneeling before him would please his Lord. It did. It pleased him so much that Melkor kept him like that for what seemed like an eternity, conjuring up mirrors before them so that Gorthaur could see what a sight he made; Finwë King, bruised and bleeding and begging for more.
Every form he takes now bears a scar across the hip, where Melkor cut too deep. He can feel it ache now, as he wanders across the battlefield. Another Elf among so many will hardly be noticed. The forces of Valinor are victorious, but exhausted also. It is to be expected; they have fought dragons and Balrogs, orcs and werewolves (although the Lord of Werewolves, until now, was indeed absent from the battlefield). Traitor, he hears, a whisper in the back of his mind, and he turns away from his captive lord, and the sight of his defeat.
Traitor, they have called him, a hundred times over, but it has never been true before now.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.