Author's Note: Trigger warning, liberties have been taken with lore.
A fine boned hand held the ring up to silvery starlight. Cleverly fashioned from the finest mithril, it depicted two serpents entwined in eternal combat. One wore a golden crown, and the other fought to consume it. Thin, hard lips, once full and sensual, curled in a slight sneer. He exhaled a low snicker,
“How apt” he said, regarding the finely wrought snakes, emerald eyes glinting not from a celestial reflection, but from some baleful inner light, “Brother, you know not what you had.” he said aloud, though there were only stars to bear witness. A foul wind whipped his shoulder length hair into fine silver tendrils, lashing his face. Whether the furies had intended this stinging scourge as a reproach or warning was lost on Boghadair, who with cold, implacable will bent to his task. The altar before him, of ink black obsidian shimmered, its glassy surface seeming to both reflect and consume light. He was momentarily taken aback by the face that glared back from it. That face, with its high cheekbones, aquiline nose and ice-grey eyes once held a patrician handsomeness, almost a beauty—haughty perhaps, but not cruel. That face had become drawn into a hard edged mask, eyes blazing with barely restrained fury. He shrugged it off. Placing the ring on the altar, he began.
Though leagues away, the towns and farms nestled into the nearby foothills were not spared the taint of Bogh’s dark ritual. The promontory where he perched, so high and inaccessible that few gave it a second thought, erupted into a fiery maelstrom. Peals of thunder reverberated down the valleys, slamming into house and hovel, awakening all within. Those that dared spill out into the night were met with a terrifying spectacle. Enormous gouts of green fire swirled about, quickly building in size and intensity. Tortured faces seemed to appear and disappear in the flames, their wretched cries carried down the mountain by a noxious wind. Just as the conflagration threatened to set the world alight, it folded into itself and plunged straight down into the altar place. It paused, then was transformed into a great beam of green malice stabbing upwards, as if to do harm to the heavens. In one last peal of thunder it vanished.
That such an event had struck the townsfolk dumb was to be expected. That it had also been sensed by far more powerful ears and eyes, was for Bogh, of the severest consequence.
***
He found Lhingeth in their secret glade. Sensing his presence she turned to him, her intense green eyes meeting his. He stood, enthralled by her cold beauty. Between them the air crackled with tension.
“Did you do it?” she asked, a slight smirk curling full red lips.
“Of course. Where is he?”
“In the hall. And he is alone. There for the taking—if you dare.” An eyebrow arched with a hint of mockery.
“You will be mine.” he said with a quiet intensity that widened her eyes a little. “I will not be denied.”
“Then do it, if you can. Better men have tried.” Her cheeks and throat flushed, and her eyes turned inwards a little.
He strode to the hall, spurred on by burning obsession. His ring pulsed with power.
“Finrod!”
Recognizing the voice, Finrod called out.
“Boghadair! Come! I have the last of the summer wine. It really is quite good this year.” His powerful back to him, Finrod poured a goblet. With a beaming smile he turned to greet his brother. The smile froze in place. “What is troubling you brother?”
And at that moment the ring’s corruption broke Boghadair. It knew what fires to stoke. A lifetime of suppressed envy, resentment and grievance erupted. His lust for Lhingeth burned white-hot. Driven half mad with unreasoning desire and rage he raised his hand to point at Finrod. His voice became deathly quiet, but there was no mistaking his intent.
“You know.” Sensing fell magic, Finrod edged closer to his sword and shield.
“I know what, brother?”
The ring thrummed with energy, its emerald eyes glowed bright. Lhingeth, her expression both fearful and afire, came into the brothers’ view. Bogh’s eyes darted to her then back to his brother. Finrod paled, then turned his gaze to Lhingeth.
“Lhingeth! Is this true?” Her look of loathing and defiance was all the answer he needed. In a heartbeat he swung into action. In one fluid motion Finrod grasped his sword then vaulted over to Bogh. In the blink of an eye the sword slashed down through flesh and bone, serving the pointed finger. Bogh screamed, grasping his hand to staunch the blood. Ring and finger lay in a bloody pool. The ring’s eyes dimmed.
“Oh Boghadair! What have you done?” Rather than outrage, Finrod’s voice held only sorrow and pity. His anger was for another. He turned to her, face impassive. “Look what you have wrought. We had a bargain, you and I. But it was not enough for you, was it? Now you have nothing.” He shook his head. “Leave this place or by the Valar I shall strike you down!” His anger growing, “I would do it now, save for the debt I owe your kin.”
“Fool!” she hissed. All pretense dropped, transforming her face into something quite ugly. “This is not over. I will take that idiot brother from you.” her voice dripping with scorn and venom. With a screech of frustration she turned and ran.
“Brother, you know not what you have done.” said Finrod, turning an ashen face to Bogh. “He will come! He will come, and there is nothing I can do.” Tears streaming, Finrod took the ring and placed it at the hall’s entrance. Bogh, in pain and shock, deflated. He slumped to the floor, anguished, passions ebbing.
“What have I done, brother? Why do I still want her?” he cried, overcome with shame and loss. So distraught was he that he did not see Aulë appear in a bolt of white flame. Did not hear the wrath in his voice as he boomed,
“Who has corrupted this ring I wrought?” his rage terrible to behold, “Who has let evil into this land. What agent of Melkor dares show his foul face?” Overwhelmed with grief, Bogh did not hear his brother’s pleas. He did not note the bravery of a brother who dared bargain with a such a being. He did feel his brother’s embrace, and the tears that wet his cheek as Finrod kissed him farewell. Aulë raised his great hammer and smote the ground. With an intense flash of blue lightning Brogh was thrown into the void. Time and space lost meaning as he fell and fell for what felt like an eternity. Eventually the darkness opened up, and with another flash of lightning, he thudded to a forest floor.
The world went black.
***
Bogh’s stillness as he lay on the mossy forest floor belied a cataclysm that took place behind closed eyelids. His essence had been torn asunder, shredded into tiny sensate bubbles, each reduced to a single thought or impulse. He had been unmade. This wholly unnatural state was perhaps a side effect of Aulë’s wrath. It was also an affront to the order of the cosmos, and could not and did not persist. Slowly, whatever spiritual force that holds our awareness together reasserted itself. Each fragment found another and congealed into something more. Each of these in turn combined with others, cascading into an accelerating torrent of recombinant feeling and memory into an identity that was, and was not, Bogh. He was still the sum of his experience, yet had no memory of what had come before. He still reeled with loss and trauma, but did not know why. In the eyes of the Valar, Bogh had committed a mortal sin. He had invited dark forces into their realm, an unforgivable transgression. He had been banished. More importantly, he had been diminished. He had been stripped of his immortality. He had been and exiled to the world of men with only echoes of the strength and magic he once possessed.
It had been a violent event, one that for a brief instant had bathed the small glade with mighty pulses of light and magic. Had Aulë been aware of the woman cowering below, he surely would have directed this discharge elsewhere.
Bogh’s fall through the thick forest canopy had stripped him bare of his clothing and his dignity. The fall through the trees had left a number of cuts and abrasions. A broken rib protruded, threatening to break through the skin. His right hand was missing the better part of his index finger, the wound thick with freshly congealed blood. He looked to be in his mid-thirties—for a man— with a lean, finely muscled frame. Very pale white skin seemed to shimmer a little in the moonlight. A shock of shoulder length hair had parted, revealing slightly pointed ears.
Just next to his right hand, glinting dully in the moonlight, was a silver ring.
***
Boghadair stirred a little, then with a gasp of acute pain his ice-grey eyes snapped open. A shock of pain and panic coursed through him—pain and panic of an intensity he had never before endured. He felt unmoored, thrashing about in a sea of sensation. Burning rage, acute loss and abject shame all roiled in the pit of his stomach. But most of all, a soul wrenching sense of betrayal threatened to overwhelm. He retched, spasms of emotion driving bile from his lips. The source of his panic however was not excruciating emotion, but rather the realization that he knew not where these feelings came from. In desperation he grasped for memory, for an understanding. Yet the more he strove, the more out of reach this memory became. What a wretched soul he was,
“Úcarnet nin! Úcarnet nin! Úcarnet nin!” a faint chant arose from his lips “You betrayed me! You betrayed me! You betrayed me!” though he knew not who and he knew not why. As intense as these feelings were, the transformation that Aulë had wrought took its inexorable course. In the span of a few heartbeats it all faded, banked down into a dull anxiety and melancholy that would forever underpin his moods. And so Boghadair came to the world, a world of men ascending and the grace of the Valar receding.
His awareness rose up to meet this new place, a place he somehow knew was not his. His eyes came into focus on a delicately beautiful face that hovered over his own. For an instant he was drawn into the deep pools of her lavender eyes. “I know you.” he thought, though this fleeting recognition was lost as he struggled to sit up. He winced as a stab of pain pierced his side.
“Who are you? Where am I?” His eyes widened in renewed panic “What is my name?”
His hand shot out and grasped her forearm.
