Melkor harrumphed rather audibly from his fabulously intimidating black throne.
He sighed and, he huffed, and he muttered, and yet still none of his scurrying minions broke rank to enquire of his displeasure.
...How insensitive! He thought.
His beady coal eyes narrowing into slits as he observed their hassled rushing. Could they not tell he was bothered, bored, and baffled by something? Honestly, sometimes he felt like he had surrounded himself by unintelligible, emotionally stunted, ingrates.
There was no liveliness at Angband anymore; no festivity, rivalry, or general boisterous behaviour. Melkor hated to admit it to himself, but - oh it was painful to think - but even Namo and those tight-laced, uppity, goody-two-shoes, Valar would be merrier than this lot...especially considering the time of year!
After all, it was Yule, and there wasn't even a withered wreath of thorns or squawking carolling orc pack to speak of...this was most depressing. And if there is one secret that the great and terrible 'Morgoth' found difficult to keep, it was that he very much enjoyed Yuletide...he supposed it was something to do with the gifts... he loved getting gifts!
So, being the Dark-lord, he decided that a new tactic should be employed...a tactic he'd picked up from those frilly little pansies known as elves... theatrics.
Now, truth be told, Melkor was quite the thespian. The 'fallen' Vala had a well furnished and long list of notable dramatic and tastefully artistic credits - the one where he and Ungoliant munched up most of Aman was by far his favourite, although his accomplice was an utter drama Queen (and a glutton)! Yes, his dastardly flare was altogether his defining attribute, but the elves had a less appealing yet surprisingly effectual tactic...whinging.
Not just any kind of cry baby whinging, but out and out theatrical displays of utter anguish. I mean Feanor was a star in his own right, he perfected that elvish pout that seemed to have all the other Valar jumping about like crazed crickets!
Not to be outshone by an elf for the world's greatest sulk, Melkor dramatically threw himself over his spiky iron throne, and wailed; an earsplitting and entirely irritating wail of false agony.
He waited a few minutes to see if anyone would bite...silence.
Melkor peeled his arm from its splayed position over his face to inconspicuously peep at his minions, who were all sort of cowering around various dark corners of Angband's great hall. He pouted - a Feanor level pout - and tried another yowl tinged with impatience. This time his persistence was rewarded.
"Is something paining you, Master?"
Melkor gleefully shot upright in his throne, tucking his legs underneath him and hanging over the gleaming onyx arms like an excitable wolf cub. He should have known his trusty lieutenant, his favoured pet, his prodigy, his best minion Sauron, would be the first to answer his Master's pleas of boredom.
"Yes!" Melkor bleated dramatically, and dropped his head into his blackened fingers for added distressed effect; "Sauron, do you know what time of the year it is?"
Sauron rolled his glittering flame eyes and sighed...not this again!
Every year it was the same thing, every single year his Master got his iron garters in a twist over Yule, and Sauron still could not quite grasp the intrigue of it all.
Of all the irksome festivals and celebrations of those confounded Children, Yuletide was the one he loathed the most... yet for some reason Master loved it...it was probably something to do with the gifts.
"It is winter," Sauron shrugged petulantly, determined not give in to Master's inner child...again.
"No, no, nooo," Melkor whined, in a fashion not dissimilar to those irksome elves, or at least that is what Sauron thought. "It is Yuletide, Sauron...YULETIDE...and we do not even have a festive tree all covered in nice black ribbons, and dusted in soot. How could you forget?"
"Ah, yes, it must have slipped my mind with all the usurpation you have me doing on your behalf," Sauron seethed, his eye twitching involuntarily as he crossed his arms about his chest and tossed his nose in the air; "Besides, you don't even like nature, why do you want fir trees stinking up the place and making it look untidy?"
"Because it is Yule, and I want a tree!" Melkor angrily huffed and stomped his feet in unison with his words, his Feanor pout becoming more wobbly with each passing moment. "Stop being a grumpy old fart Sauron, you are no fun anymore! Go out and hack me down some of Yavanna's best creations and bring them here so I can decorate them, then watch them rot and send them back to her in a boat as a gift...ehehehe...she always wanted me to appreciate nature more!"
Sauron suppressed a groan, and instead rubbed soothing circular motions into his left temple with his nimble, ring clad, fingers.
"Is there anything else my Master wants for his Yule celebrations?" Sauron forcibly asked through gritted teeth, almost dreading the answer.
"Honestly Sauron, you would think I was asking you to go clean out the orc pits with nought but your hands; where is your festive spirit?" Melkor cried, throwing his hands to the air in a show of exasperation towards his most favoured minion.
Sauron's nose scrunched in disgust, and Melkor felt a little deflated. There was little point in celebrating Yuletide if his second in command was in no mood to join him. Yuletide, after all, was about spending time with loved ones...and he was awfully fond of the perpetually peeved Maia.
The dark Vala was just about to go sulk some more when an idea crossed his evil mind.
Crawling onto his knees, still atop the seat of his throne, he leaned into Sauron and rested his head on his shoulder.
"Mairon?" He began, in his littlest voice, clasping his hands together he braved his angry lieutenant with his best innocent eyes; "Mairon, my bestest best servant of all time, you know how much I appreciate you, right?"
Sauron felt his jaw tighten, using his given name was entirely unfair tactics! Well, he was not going to fall for manipulation tactics this time, but just to be sure he wasn't going to chance looking into his master's eyes...just in case.
Melkor was not to be discouraged, not when it came to Sauron, he knew his little ball of mad-as-hellfire flames could not refuse his master;
"Aw come on," he pushed and tugged a strand of his servant's shimmering coppery hair, "You have to admit, I throw a great party?"
"Yes master, you do," Sauron replied, inwardly cursing himself when he inadvertently looked downwards and met his Master's dancing beady eyes...oh, they looked so hopeful and...no! No stop looking Sauron!
"See, now why would you not want to help me throw a Yuletide party?" Melkor beamed, snuggling further into Sauron's titan hair.
"Because last Yule you ended up getting me absurdly drunk, then, when I was passed out on the floor you somehow convinced all the orcs to dress me up like a court jester and then proceeded to parade me around Angband...LIKE A FOOL!" Sauron shrieked and yanked himself away from his treacherous Master who could not be trusted, especially not with Yule parties.
"Actually, you were supposed to be Varda...I thought you gathered that from the jewels I glued to your hair," Melkor snorted, but began to snigger at the memory, it was a really good Yule and he even got his own pet Fellbeast...pity one of those stupid dragons ate him...well there was always the possibility of another one this year.
"Yes, and I had to cut off three inches of my hair because of the glue...THREE INCHES MASTER!" Sauron wailed, and then purposefully tugged his hair into a ponytail and stuck it down his scaled armour. He was still extremely sore about that. "And you dragged me through the dungeons...all the prisoners saw...it was degrading and not one of them could take me seriously after that. Torturing loses its appeal when the torturee starts making flirtatious innuendos!"
Well that just about did it, Melkor practically fell off his throne in a fit of spluttering and belly-aching laughter. It took him a solid twenty minutes to bring his obnoxious cackling down to a mild chortle, and with each passing moment Sauron fumed all the harder, his face matching his hair in hue...he really did hate Yuletide!
"Oh, my ribs hurt," Melkor giggled from his upside down position at the bottom of his throne, his legs resting on the seat and his back on the ground as he snorted and squealed like a delighted piglet.
"IT WAS NOT FUNNY!" Sauron snapped, as he stepped over his master and stalked off down the marble steps, with literal flames rippling off his person.
"Saaaaurooon, come back!" Melkor whinged, as he rolled onto his belly and pouted some more. "I need my treeees, and my roast beast, and gifts...Sauron? Sauron? WELL I CANNOT GO MYSELF!!!"
Sauron paused mid stride, and ever so gently twisted his head to the side to regard his Master with the faintest smirk...
"Well, you should of thought of that before your disgraced me," and with that said, Melkor's closest ally and friend, deserted him with a prim little strut out of the throne room.
Melkor stared, mouth agape. He was not accustomed to not getting his own way - well he was but only when dealing with his ridiculous brother - but that wasn't the point!
The dark Vala was conflicted, usually in the instance of not getting his own way he would throw a raging tantrum and go on a murderous rampage, destroying everything in his wake, but he didn't feel like doing that...he felt sort of...sad. Yuletide was no fun without Sauron at his side, lighting up Wargs for the giggles, or roasting slaves on the open fire, their screams made such good background music for the orc carolling.
And then Melkor had a horrible thought; if Sauron would not help him celebrate Yule then who would sit up with him to the wee hours doing impressions of those simpleminded, prissy, good for nothing, joy killers, that he once had the great displeasure of calling family! That was his favourite part of Yuletide, he loved it more than getting presents...well...marginally more.
Melkor's pout wobbled...was he going to have to spend Yuletide alone?
No presents, no setting fire to unsuspecting minions, no withered wreaths or hacked up fir trees dressed in pretty black bows (manly evil bows of course), and no Sauron...no favoured minion to plot and scheme and cackle evilly with?
Well this was shaping up to be a truly despicable Yuletide indeed!
Meanwhile...
Somewhere in the dungeons of Angband, Sauron was feeling very proud of himself!
Not only had he convinced his Master that he was still cut up over last year's dress-up debacle, but he'd successfully distracted him from the master plan at hand...the Annual Angband Yuletide Festivity!
Everyone knew how much Master loved Yule, he was always especially mischievous and excitable at this time of year. All his evil servants reaped the benefits of a happy Overlord- namely, less whippings and more feasting (and presents, everyone loves presents).
Sauron, being second in command, was obligated to fulfill the hopes and expectations of his subordinates - who were all very much hoping for the Annual Angband Yuletide Festival, mostly because it was their only night off in the whole bleedin' year.
"Did he fall for it?" Ancalagon the Black, Melkor's most celebrated creation, hissed from the far end of the massive underground pit.
"Of course he fell for it!" Sauron sniffed indignantly, "It is me we are talking about, I can fool anyone."
Ancalagon rolled his eyes, and slapped his great scaly dragon's tail off the stone ground making the very foundations of Angband tremble - and accidentally squishing two passing goblins (but no one really cares about goblins, not even goblins care about goblins).
"Now don't get sassy with me Ancalagon," Sauron warned, jabbing a finger at the ginormous dragon. "Do not forget that I know who ate Digby last year."
Ancalagon had the decency to look at little sheepish now, ducking his snout and pretending to feign interest in his claws - the dragon decided to drop the sensitive subject. If Master knew it was he who snacked on his pet FellBeast...well...life just wouldn't be worth living.
"We are right on schedule boss," an Orc commander reminded Sauron, as he loped up to him and saluted, "The dungeon is completely decorated, and cook says feasts almost ready...methinks we're havin' beef...I loves beef me...tastes just like cow!"
"Indeed," Sauron replied and attempted to refrain from beheading another orc commander, after all it was Yuletide, and he had already gone through three this week - you just couldn't get the staff anymore.
"Oh, quick, everyone hide...I hear Master," Ancalagon rumbled excitedly from his corner, before shoving his head under a pile of straw. Sauron quirked an eyebrow, but decided better of drawing attention to the dragon's delusions of size - he was awfully insecure about that.
All the various servants, slaves, foul creatures, and lowly minions scuttled off into their hiding places, whilst Sauron threw a sheet over a once majestic fir tree all covered in black ribbon bows. Casually the fiery Maiar took his place in the centre of the darkened room, and folded his hands behind his back...Master would not be happy with his refusal...but it was all part of the plan, and hopefully he'd get that across before he lost an extremity or something in punishment?
"Sauron...Sauron....my little flaming ball of anger...are you in here?" Melkor mewed quietly from behind the steel doors of his lieutenant's dungeon's.
The Dark Vala noted that there was a considerable lack of shrieks coming from the inmates, which was not a good sign. Usually when Sauron went in a sulk with him he would direct his disappointments on his prisoners - maiming folk was always a sure fire way to cheer up Sauron - but alas there was silence...
...oh botheration, he'd really done it this time! This was a Sauron Super Sulk! Pffft over sensitive Maiar!
"You know I have disemboweled minions for less, Sauron!" Melkor huffed as he shoved his way into the omnipresent room, which was strangely dark for such a vast space. "You just cannot go around speaking to me like that, it gives the wrong impression...I can't be seen to be showing favoritism!"
Sauron glowered, the flames spiking across his shoulders in a show of defiance. Melkor was astounded, his little fire cracker was being most unreasonable!
"Sauron!" Melkor warned, although it sort of came out more like a yelp. He hated it when Sauron had a rage fuelled explosion moment. Mostly because it was more than a little terrifying to watch your minion blow-up...in a literal ball of flames.
Sauron fumed...
...Melkor recoiled...
Then just when Melkor believed he was going to have to knock his lieutenant unconscious (or drop a bucket of ice on him), Sauron's manifesting rage ebbed, and was instead replaced by a maliciously gleeful grin.
"SURPRISE!!!!!!" Sauron shrieked, flinging his arms out, just as Ancalagon reared his great black head out of the straw pile and released a swathe of fire to light up the overhanging chandeliers...and a few orc too...well, a dragon's aim is a little indiscriminate (best not to stand near one).
Melkor leaped several feet in the air, letting out a somewhat shrill squeak of a scream, which he abruptly coughed and spluttered into a deep growl of surprise. He had thought Ancalagon was sleeping in the straw again - not hiding? Stupid disillusioned dragon, with his insecure body image issues!
To Sauron's right a pack of goblins had created a living ladder out of their bodies, and were stumbling towards the sheet covered tree. Goblins, renowned for their clumsiness, nearly took the sheet and half the fir tree with them in their botched attempt at the unveiling, but were mercifully saved by a cave troll - who are surprisingly nimble for their mass and pea sized brain.
The inevitable squeals and growls of goblin and troll, prompted the beginning of the first strangled notes of the orc's carolling choir. The various slaves and prisoners began to yowl and lament at the orcish singing - for it is almost akin to the sound of nails on a chalkboard. The beautiful, yet acoustically challenging sound, brought a tear to Melkor's eye.
"Happy Yuletide Master!" Sauron sang happily as he clapped Melkor on the back, in that masculine fashion. "You really thought I would forget your most favoured day of the year?"
"Oh Sauron," Melkor sniffed, his bottom lip trembling slightly, "you did all this for me?"
"No less, at least not for our glorious King," Sauron proclaimed with a flourishing bow, whilst Ancalagon slapped his tail heartily in agreement, knocking over a pillar supporting a prison as he did so - which meant the prisoners were flattened (probably better for them really).
The dragon coughed, and gently brushed the straw over the ruins to hide his mess; smugly thinking what a bright idea that was! Sauron resisted a facepalm, for it was Yuletide, and it was only customary to be forgiving to the idiots of the family at this time of year. Besides, it was Master's happiness that mattered.
Speaking of which, Melkor was practically prancing on the spot as he gleefully observed his surroundings. His surprise Yuletide party could not have been better, it had everything he ever wished; carolling orc, hacked up trees complete with black bows, a fire breathing dragon doing tricks, and....his beloved Sauron! Yuletide just wouldn't be Yuletide without him...but there was one thing missing, but Sauron was always a step ahead.
The crafty maiar motioned for a cave troll to drag over a wriggling sack. Melkor's eyes lit up as he swooped over to the bundle and clapped merrily;
"Is it a present? Is it for me?" The dark Vala babbled as he tugged impatiently on his lieutenant's arm.
"No, it's for Ancalagon," Sauron replied with a deadpan expression as Melkor's face fell, and Ancalagon licked his lips; "I am kidding...of course it's for you Master!"
"YYAAAYYY!!!" Melkor screeched, temporarily deafening Sauron in the right ear, and simultaneously disappointing Ancalagon - who really thought he was getting a tasty treat.
The dragon huffed, and picked off an unsuspecting warg when no one was looking, just to make up for his disappointment.
But Melkor noticed none of this as he tore open the sack, incoherently rambling about all the things it could possibly be...oh, he just loved getting presents!
After several nail biting moments he managed to reveal his gift, and with a emotional gasp of sheer joy, Melkor turned to Sauron and yelled;
"A Fellbeast! How did you know it's what I wanted?"
"I had a hunch-" was all Sauron managed to reply before he was knocked sideways by a slobbering blob of excitement.
"Oh look Sauron, he likes you already!" Melkor sang happily as his new pet beasty licked and whined all over his favourite servant.
"Oh, aren't you a good boy, yes you are," Melkor continued to sing in a babyish manner as the grotesquely cute creature, who was still a youngling and only about the size of a warg, waggled his tail excitedly.
"Someone. Get. This. Thing. Off of me!" Sauron wheezed between each drooling lick of the overexcited creature.
"Come to Daddy, come on, come here," Melkor coaxed, and much to Sauron's relief the young beast bounded up to his new master and hopped into his waiting arms; "Ooooh, he's a terrifying boy...yes he is...so scary...I loves him...yes I does!"
Sauron sighed as he wiped the slobber from his face, feeling a little under appreciated...well at least Master was having fun.
Melkor was far too engrossed in playing with his new pet that he didn't initially notice the glum looking Maiar.
Truthfully, Melkor always was a little thoughtless that way, and it was a number of hours later before he did remember about his long-suffering servant. So, after all the carolling had been enjoyed, and all the fire party tricks shown off, and the feast consumed, Melkor plonked himself down beside his little fire cracker;
"Yes Master?" Sauron muttered wearily as he sat himself up straight in his chair awaiting a command, but before he could say anymore he found himself captured in a bone crunching hug.
"That was the best Yuletide celebration anyone has ever thrown me," Melkor muttered into Sauron's ear. A little sob catching in his throat; "I have never known such thoughtfulness, my family never did those things for me...they never wanted me at their parties...I never even got presents...can you imagine?"
"There, there," Sauron soothed quietly as he patted his Master's back. "You don't need to worry about those horrible Valar now...you have us...we are your family...screw those guys, we have each other!"
Melkor sniffed back a tear, and hugged his dearest minion closer. It was funny how Yule brought about these emotions in the usually disinterested Dark lord, but tonight he felt them keenly.
Yule was a time to express to loved ones how much they are appreciated, and in the heat of the moment Melkor uttered the very words that made the whole ordeal of the Annual Angband Yuletide Festivities worthwhile to his hassled lieutenant;
"Sauron, you are the family I always wanted."
Fin!
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***Author Note***
To all my wonderful readers, friends, and fellow fandom writers...Have a Fire-Cracker of a Christmas and a Totally Epic New Year!
I gift this to my personal Melkor Rousdower Thank you for another awesome year mellon nin.
And also for you SunnyTreasures princesswithashotgun Stars_Alight and everyone else who went out of their way to be super thoughtful to me during this tough year! You are all my fellowship family.
This story is in homage to the memory of the incredible Sir Christopher Lee, who our fandom sadly lost last year. There was no greater badass in the history of badass bad guys! The media is the one and only Sir Lee preforming 'Jingle Hell' his Heavy Metal take on the classic 'Jingle Bells'...I can totally envision Melkor and Sauron getting down with an air guitar for the Annual Angband Yuletide Festivities with this...hehehe!
ROCK ON MY MINIONS!!!