"Enter, worm." Sauron mindlessly lounged on the short divan, pipe in hand.
The door creaked opened, slowly, and by the threshold stood a tall figure, all dressed in black and grimy ugliness. A vacuous gaze grazed the room, almost hidden beneath a thick veil of black hair, reaching almost to his knees. Sickly skinniness had eaten his face, but his power towered like a cyclone.
An iron crown, three jewels upon it. There they were.
Maedhros shivered. He couldn't bare to look at him. Like a curtain of black smoke, he murdered any light in the room. A sight that could scar minds, and eviscerate souls.
Sauron gulped harshly.
"Forgive me, master..." He feebly whispered.
"I thought it was that ghoulish mongrel who barely passes through our doors," he added, regaining levity.
Morgoth did not answer.
He entered the room and locked the door behind him. Like a specter, he strolled to them, with each step weighing terribly on the floor. He seemed to be turning taller and taller each second.
He extended a skeletal hand to Sauron, combing back his hair.
The maia responded by looking for the touch, like a cat, almost.
Those hands seemed quite rough, though, as they were black as charcoal, burnt to the deepest fiber of bone.
"Him..." Morgoth spoke with a slow voice, somehow both deep and rounded, and strident. Like a curtain his hair parted to leave space for his visage when he turned to stare at Maedhros. Marred and gaunt, he looked like a corpse.
"I have already told you I don't appreciate you parading around your toys."
"Toys..." Sauron scoffed, "what a crude word!"