Mairon is in the forge of Aulë, bent over a new project. The fire surrounding his anvil is sweltering in intensity, but as a Maia of fire, he does not feel the heat. To him, the environment is quite cool.

Clang! The fall of the hammer is rhythmic, ringing out every time it is hit. Mairon goes at it absentmindedly, his mind elsewhere. He had been in contact with a certain individual and his mind frequently turned to dwell on him.

Melkor had given him much to think about. The Dark Vala whispers promises of power, of greatness. Already, in his conflicts against the Valar, he has shown his might and willingness to take what he wants. Mairon quite admires him for it. Sure, Melkor's main design is in destruction, but he has accomplished much for a single person. In him, Mairon perceived a certain drive he thought the Valar lacked.

Clang! He hears someone enter the forge but does not stop his work as he greets the visitor. "Hail." He acknowledges, looking up for a moment to offer a smile. "What brings you to my forge?”