Inspired by AzureSkye23's works.

(STOP BEING SO INSPIRATIONAL, DANGIT)

Eӧnwë was beyond exhausted by the time he reached the deepest depths of Utumno. Gore and unspeakable things covered his shining silver armor and golden wings. Despite the fact that he was a Maia, and fatigue of body was rare, he felt as though he knew how the Children must feel. His shoulders ached, and his back, and the joining between his wings and body. He paused outside the last door in the long, convoluted corridor he had been clearing and took a deep breath. The stench had long since ceased to sting his nostrils.

He raised his eyes to the heavens. "Atar," he prayed in a tired voice. "Please, give me strength." He straightened and raised his sword and shield once more, then used his Power to open the door.

The room inside was one of the most horrifying he had yet to encounter. Blood and viscera had dried on the walls in layers upon layers, until the weight had caused some parts to peel away from the stone. The thick, stinking sludge that had been held back by the door oozed out into the hallway, made of blood and ichor and unthinkable things. The smell of rot and festering wounds was strong enough to make Eӧnwë's eyes water; finally, he gave up and removed the olfactory tissues from his fána entirely.

He stepped into the cold room, shivering as his boots sank into the half-congealed muck. Nothing lept out at him (a blessing, considering how his day had been going). His eyes swept methodically over the wall before him, then to the side, then—

There was a Maia chained to the wall, though it might have been a stretch to call the tattered remains a Maia. The thing was suspended from its wrists, its body little more than bone and stringy muscle covered by torn skin. Eӧnwë drew in a sharp breath, taking a few cautious steps closer. How the creature was still incarnate was a horrifying mystery—a Maia with that degree of damage to its fána would long since have passed into the stage that would permanently damage its fёa.

"Hello?" Eӧnwë said cautiously. "Can you hear me, kinsman?"

The Maia moaned, and despite the gross damage to its vocal cords, Eӧnwë made out a name. "'lórin."

"Lórien?" Eӧnwë asked, still advancing slowly. "Did you serve Lórien? I can call your Lord for you."

The Maia stirred slightly, the tattered remains of its muscles twitching only weakly, and repeated its cry more clearly. "Olórin."

Eӧnwë's heart stopped in his chest. It felt like the floor itself had fallen from beneath him. No. Denial came first. No, this can't be—it's not— "Mairon?" he breathed. His sword hand weakened but he had the presence of mind to safely sheathe his blade before stepping forward and reaching out. "Illúvatar, let it not be so," he said, choking on his fear. His gauntlet-covered hand gently brushed aside the matted hair—the color indistinguishable beneath blood and dirt—to reveal a gaunt, brutalized, familiar face.

Eӧnwë cried out in horror and dismay as he beheld empty eye sockets, bloody voids that once had housed brilliant golden eyes. "Mairon!" he said, anguished. He sank to his knees in the muck and wept loudly. "Mairon, what has he done to you!" He panicked and practically yanked on the bond between him and his Lord, yelling with enough mental force that Manwë would not have been able to ignore him even if he wanted to. MY LORD!

This was enough to bring the Elder King instantly to his herald's side. "Eӧnwë!" he said, eyes flashing in alarm, "What—?" The words died when he beheld Mairon's tattered fána and Eӧnwë, weeping before him.

"Mairon," Eӧnwë choked out. "It's Mairon."

Manwë stepped forward and gripped his herald's shoulder with one hand, the other pressed over his mouth in horror. An instant later, Estë appeared behind him.

"Oh Father," she said upon seeing the figure chained to the wall.

Manwë gently drew Eӧnwë up and away from his friend, making room for the Healer. It took less than a minute for her to evaluate the situation. "This—" she said helplessly, gliding her glowing palms over Mairon's tattered form. "He was Bound. I cannot… this is beyond even my skill to repair."

Manwë closed his eyes in acceptance, keeping a grip on Eӧnwë as the herald trembled. "Námo," he said quietly. The Vala appeared behind them, his presence like a heavy thundercloud, and Manwë turned. "Can you break this Binding?" he asked. Estë, desperately needed elsewhere, vanished.

Námo's unmasked eyes flicked to Mairon and glowed briefly with Power. "Yes," he said, striding heedlessly through the sludge and laying one hand over the Maia's brow. Mairon moaned weakly, his form flickering like a guttering candle as the Binding was lifted.

"Summon him," said Manwë.

"Mairon," Námo called with the kind of softness reserved for dying Children. "Come to me. We cannot save this form."

Mairon shook his head weakly and turned away, delirious. "Olórin. No more," he rasped. "No more."

Eӧnwë spoke. "Listen to him, Mairon, it's alright," he said with forced lightness even as tears streaked down his cheeks. "Lord Námo isn't going to hurt you."

Mairon wavered uncertainly, recognizing his dear friend's voice but unable to truly comprehend it.

Námo spoke again, coaxing but firm, and knelt. "Come here, little one," he said, taking the ruined face in his hands. "Feel me, feel my presence, and come to me. You are hurting yourself."

This time, Mairon obeyed. The brutalized fána faded like a cloud of smoke until all that could be seen by the Ainur present was his fёa. Eӧnwë choked again. When last he had seen that fёa, it had been like molten gold and silver and copper swirling around a star-like core. Now it was nearly all black and shredded so badly that it seemed as netting. The shining core was a weak, flickering thing, stuck through with shards of black ice.

In short, it was the most damaged fёa they had ever seen.

"He did this," Eӧnwë said, anger creeping into his voice as Námo gathered Mairon into the safety of his Power. "He did this with purpose!" His voice cracked, and Manwë could do little other than draw him into an embrace.

"And our purpose will be to repair this damage," Námo responded calmly. "That is all we can do."