New Oneshot! This is from a conversation with my dear friend   where we talked about Mairon/Eonwe and I didn't quite expect to come up with anything, but here it is: 2000 Words worth of toxic relationship. I'll explain below, exactly what makes tham a huge walking pair of red flags, just read carefully.

There were many things Mairon liked. Lists were definitely among the top ten. In fact, he had a list of things he liked. Hanging at his workbench right next to the list of experiments he wanted to executed – ordered by feasibility – and a list of commissions he had to hand in – the runes magically enhanced to reorder them, would there ever be any shift in priority.

He also liked being in a relationship with Eonwe, he thought as he comfortably sat next to the Maia on a grey rock on the top of a particularly high mountain.

Why his partner generally preferred to spend what little time they had together here never failed to escape Mairon's understanding. So far away from his forges – so far away from everything, really – there was nothing but sky and sky and yet more sky in every direction and sometimes a mildly interestingly shaped cloud to occupy the mind.

Not, that he didn't know why Eonwe enjoyed it: Manwe's herald was grateful for every opportunity to slow down. With an increasing set of duties and responsibilities it was hard even for him, who belonged to the very winds of Arda, to catch a breath. Besides, even when he did finish all of his work there was always someone eager to have a chat with Manwe's shining right hand. Not, that the angel didn't genuinely love his position and the people it involved, but sometimes he just had to take a break from everything.

It was an honour, Mairon thought, gracefully resting his head on the Maia's shoulder, that he allowed Mairon to join him in these moments of quiet and peace.

Yet, that didn't change the fact that he already misses his forge. The silence drove him mad. Usually, there was always something – anything – to keep his mind at work: A project he was working on. Advise that needed to be given.  Like a machine his mind was always at work, always eager to invest in a new task he could focus on.

But here was nothing, not even a bird, to direct this energy at. The gearwheels had slowed down and it felt like the factory that was his brain would eventually turn into a rubbery swamp of unproductivity.

But Eonwe liked it, so who was he to complain.

Reasons I like being in a relationship with Eonwe he mentally started another list with the sole purpose to not loose his sanity in the nothingness.

1.) I know him well

So much was true. He had met the Maia at what was practically the peak of his career as a servant of Aule. In fact, Eonwe had been one of his first clients as a high ranked smith. What an honour it had been for Mairon, who before had mostly been tasked with the making of trinkets: Tools for the Maiar of Yavanna. Arrows for Orome's hunters. Mere objects that were meant for everyone and nobody.

The thrill of being granted the honour to create a suit of armour for Manwe's second in command! Mairon had accepted the task with breathless awe before diving headfirst into it. How he had yearned to finally create something that was his and his alone. Something that was filled with his fana and his ideas and his craft. Something to prove his worth both as a smith and an artist.

Besides, Eonwe had turned out to be a very rewarding client so that for a few weeks Mairon had felt a rush of energy. It had felt incredible to explore Eonwe's mind. To uncover layer upon layer of his fana and weaving it into the metal, the creation, the very air that surrounded the suit of armour he had made.

The results had been nothing short of perfect while at the same time he and the Maia had continually grown closer.

Not, that this had surprised anyone.

2.) We fit perfectly, he added to his list

Thinking about it, he found that this had been the only logical course for the two of them. Manwe's favourite Maia and Aules favourite smith. For the two most popular figures in Almaren it was only natural to eventually be talked about in one breath only.

And why shouldn't he enjoy them talking? Why shouldn't he bathe in the gazes of the lesser Maiar when he was dancing with the herald of the king of the Valar himself. Eonwe, who could have had every soul in Almaren had picked him over all the others - he loved talking about him as his partner and see their eyes widen in disbelief.

3.) I like it when he kisses me, he proceeded in his consideration as the thought of dancing led him down that road.

Mairon shivered a little thinking about a kiss he had received by another person a few days ago. The memory of a looming shadow lingering in the corner of his forge.

He shouldn't have listened to the voice that had belonged to the shadow in the first place. Shouldn't have listened when he had met that ridiculously mysterious stranger at the borders of the realm where he had hoped to find some rare ores for his current project. Shouldn't have listened when the somewhat dubious presence had advised him on which ingredients to add to an alloying in order to make the bracelet he had been working on less durable. Shouldn't have listened when the voice had appeared at his smithy unseen – his! How dared he invade his domain! – whispering suggestions of a different kind.

He should make a list of times he shouldn't have listened.

When Melkor pressed me against my forge's walls and I saw the fiery roaring of power that were my flames mirrored in his otherwise freezing eyes would probably be ranked highest.

He had briefly considered telling Eonwe, but the very thought of it made him want to burry himself in the deepest of mines of Aule's domain. How could a being that was so fundamentally good – by nature so very pure and unstained – ever understand how it had felt? How was he supposed to tell Enowe of all people that, while Melkor's personality deeply disgusted him, he was enthralled by his ideas. Not, when every suggestion Melkor made sent a rush of adrenalin through his soul. Not when every idea the Enemy offered was so much stronger than everything Aule could ever think of.

No. If Eonwe even suspected any link to the Enemy whom he loathed with all his soul, then he would take it away from Mairon. Or, even worse: He would assume that Mairon had fallen for the lies of a manipulator – as if he, Aule's champion, would have lost control - and treat him like something broken. As if he were a shattered blade or a snapped necklace that needed to be fixed.

Neither would he understand that, just because Melkor was inherently evil, his ideas weren't necessarily irredeemable. Ideas that had always – even before he had met Melkor – been woven into Mairon's creations like a vein of soft gold into solid rock. The very thought of Eonwe looking at his creations with disdain – just because some of the techniques vaguely reminded of Melkor – was enough to make him feel like suffocating.

4.) He takes care of me

As if feeling his unease Eonwe turned towards Mairon stroking his cheek with a hand that was light as air. It required every amount of concentration Mairon had not to flinch from the touch, as he hastily buried whatever thought and desire and memory he had just had deep in the mines of his fana. Unthinkable if Eonwe - who was always concerned for his well being, always just an inch away from trying to reach out and touch Mairon's consciousness – would sense...

"Are you alright, my love?" His voice like the singing of a morning cloud.

"Quite alright," the lie tasted bitterly.

"I sense some unease," the herald inquired, "what is it, dear?"

He wished, Eonwe wouldn't always need to help with everything.

"Will you believe me when I tell you it's nothing," he responded while leaning forward until his lips brushed over Eonwe's like a candle's gentle flame. Usually, that was enough for both of them. A candle's flame briefly touched by a light breeze, but now Mairon leaned closer. As always, Eonwe was cold and still, like the steel Mairon created in his forges.

5.) He is meticulous, he thought between two breaths, clear and straight like a masterfully forged blade. There is nothing confusing or confused about him, never a hair out of place

Nevertheless, Mairon suddenly found himself reaching out for... More! He wanted more than just a breeze. He wanted to be more – could be more – than a mere candle, doomed to stand aside and look pretty.

Quite without his permission his hand wandered upwards to where Eonwe's hair was bound in an orderly knot. He admired his partner's cleanly tight hair, but now he tugged and pulled until it came down in a cascade of gold.

At the same time, he felt his mind blazing up. Emotions he didn't dare name rushing through his veins like a wildfire. Untameable. Magnificent.

Dangerously close to that other incident in the smithy, but to his horror he found himself even more excited about it.

He dug his hand through that waterfall of golden hair as he – only half willingly - had done it before with another's black strands.

His mouth pushed against Eonwe's with a burning hunger he had felt before. A hunger someone else had eagerly drunken from his lips.

Oh, how good it had tasted! How much better it tasted now being the one to initiate it. This was better than inventing unthough of machines. Better than the rush of having crafted the perfect object.

And still he needed more. Had ever needed more since Melkor had opened to him the door to desire of that kind.

His hands and lips and fana pressed against Eonwe's in a messy rush of – everything! Urging his partner not only to respond to the touch but to open his soul. To let Mairon in. To harmonize with him. To become one!

6.) He slows me down when I get ahead of myself.

Gently, ever so gently, Eonwe freed himself from the touch and the fire died down as if deprived of oxygen.

Immediately, another feeling rose: Was this what the spirit of the Enemy looked like? Was this what he looked like? Broken. Something that needs to be fixed. How could something that felt so natural be wrong? Why did there always have to be a limit?

Hastily, Mairon closed his fana to Eonwe, who, in terms, seemed much to occupied with his own emotions to notice. As a matter of fact, the birds nest Mairon had turned his hair into didn't quite suit him. Mairon had to supress the urge to straighten and braid them back into place.

"That," Eonwe coughed, even now careful not to say anything potentially hurting, "was intense."

"I though we might try something new," Mairon shrugged, as if it had been nothing.

They wouldn't talk about it. None of them would want to embarrass either their partner or themselves like this.

Mairon hated to even think about it.

"I love you," Eonwe reassured him, "but I'd rather have it we return to what we are use to."

"You are right," Mairon shook his head. He shouldn't have listened and now he should turn away from everything that had to do with the Enemy.

Eonwe would keep him safe from these blasphemous ideas and emotions.

He liked being in a relationship with Eonwe

I'm not happy with the end (am I ever?) it's too short for that turn in Mairon's thought to make sense.

What I'm quite happy with is everything else.

And I really want to analyse that thing, so...

First of all: Do they have a shipping-name? I suggest something like sunset, because when the sun sinks it looks like the clouds are burning and Mairon is a firespirit and Eonwe is clouds.

I really think that, when putting some work into that relationship, they could be awesome. Mairon, who loves everything ordered and perfect could be enthralled by Eonwe who embodies just that. And Eonwe, who is primarily driven by a love for everything alive could love Mairon's passion and energy and fire.

I think, the problem is, that they don't communicated anything. Mairon doesn't say anything and Eonwe doesn't ask. Mairon doesn't say he doesn't like their place because he is a textbook workaholic and Eonwe doesn't ask. Not to blame Eonwe: He is so open himself that he just assumes Mairon would tell him if something was wrong. He can't imagine why someone would hide their feelings, having nothing to hide himself. 

Mairon, on the other hand, thinks it a failure to not be able to endure whatever it is Eonwe asks of him. He is so desperate to be perfect (-> selfless) that he confuses selfcare with selfishness and he is thus ashamed to share his needs or ask for anything.

It's a devil's circle.

And, while I think I could have done something better with the bullet-points, I like how everything he describes could be wholesome but by far isn't!

I mean, I like to think I know my friends very well, but THEY KNOW ME TOO! Mairon doesn't admit it but he enjoys the power of knowing someone inside out but, at the same time, is too emotionally unavailable/insecure/tight up to reveal anything that would make him vulnerable. So, it's unbalanced and very straight up a red flag

Second: I too think me and my friends fit perfectly and heaven knows I love talking about them. I am proud to be part of that friends-group and when someone mentions the places where they live I go "Oh, I have friends there" because being reminded of them makes me happy and telling someone else about them makes it so real. BUT MAIRON USES EONWE AS A SYMBOL OF STATUS! He basically goes "He loves me and not you. Look how much better I am" all the time which is - ugh - not good.

It's infinitely funny to me how Mairon loves order and perfection above everything and how he doesn't even notice that Melkor makes him abandon just that (see Eonwe's hair). Yet, it is okay. Melkor doesn't force him to do that (I hope) and while being with Melkor makes him neglect that order-part of his personality it fosters that other part of himself. The one he is ashamed to show Eonwe. The one that knows no limits and always wants more and is fiery and passionate and ambitious. It's awesome.

Anyways, , this is my take on Mairon/Eonwe. I'm so curious to hear your thoughts,  .