Perhaps when that time came, Mairon would not be upset to part with his name, he would take up the mantle of Sauron with ease. With fire and steel. For now though, he still finds likeness in Mairon, in the echoes and ties he has with Aüle and the Valar, even when he bares more than a little ill will towards them. They still serve their purpose, those ties, even if they are freshly severed.
The Maia watches, golden eyes glinting in amusement that he tamps down on, as the elfling falls to his knees, head bowed. It is the perfect picture of obedience and loyalty, things that Mairon has never sought for himself, only for Melkor. He knows however, that this might serve Melkor's ends, especially--
The smile on his face softens, and Mairon reaches out with long fingers that will one day pull only pain from the body before him, and lets them rest absently against the top of his head. A blessing. A curse. Perhaps a bit of both. He will sink his claws into this one, with aid from whatever is at work here, and he will not let it go easily. This, this is something he can work with.
"Is that so? You are a bold one, indeed. It does you well." Mairon hums, light and musical, an echo of the times before the world as it is. When the question is asked, he does not hesitate to sink down, not kneeling (he will kneel for no one but Melkor, no one is worth that), but less looming as he tugs a strand of the fire-bright hair loose and toys with it.
"I only ask for loyalty unwavering, it is not difficult to prove yourself." The smile is still so kind, so composed and soft and--
The Maia cocks his head, the first name... No. He could not be so fortunate. It could not be... When the elfling tells him the names of his parents, the celebrated and cursed Fëanor, he nearly laughs. The Silmarils, this elfling may just be worth that extra trouble after all.
"Maedhros. A fitting name indeed. Worry not, Maedhros, it should not be difficult to prove yourself." The smile is still there as he rises, the hair slipping from his fingers. "Shall we, lovely?"
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The Maia watches, golden eyes glinting in amusement that he tamps down on, as the elfling falls to his knees, head bowed. It is the perfect picture of obedience and loyalty, things that Mairon has never sought for himself, only for Melkor. He knows however, that this might serve Melkor's ends, especially--
The smile on his face softens, and Mairon reaches out with long fingers that will one day pull only pain from the body before him, and lets them rest absently against the top of his head. A blessing. A curse. Perhaps a bit of both. He will sink his claws into this one, with aid from whatever is at work here, and he will not let it go easily. This, this is something he can work with.
"Is that so? You are a bold one, indeed. It does you well." Mairon hums, light and musical, an echo of the times before the world as it is. When the question is asked, he does not hesitate to sink down, not kneeling (he will kneel for no one but Melkor, no one is worth that), but less looming as he tugs a strand of the fire-bright hair loose and toys with it.
"I only ask for loyalty unwavering, it is not difficult to prove yourself." The smile is still so kind, so composed and soft and--
The Maia cocks his head, the first name... No. He could not be so fortunate. It could not be... When the elfling tells him the names of his parents, the celebrated and cursed Fëanor, he nearly laughs. The Silmarils, this elfling may just be worth that extra trouble after all.
"Maedhros. A fitting name indeed. Worry not, Maedhros, it should not be difficult to prove yourself." The smile is still there as he rises, the hair slipping from his fingers. "Shall we, lovely?"