He knows they're not enough, and he never really intends them to be. It's more like a consolation prize, really-- something to tide AM's appetite over until the... main course. Which would be when the man decides enough is enough.

Mairon laughs at the thought that AM directs towards him, laughs an echoing laugh in AM's own mind as he shuffles through more memories. It's clear to him by now that little pleasure will be gained on either end of this exchange of memories. Boredom is about all that fuels his search, and while he does leave the feeling of amusement at some of the memories, the sheer lack of reaction is what persists, for the most part. No disgust, no anger, no hate.

What can you do to me, AM? It's mocking at best, almost goading him into making a move. What can you do that I could not do to you in turn?

But he doesn't stop his digging. It may stir little emotion in him, but he cannot deny his interest every time he sees the humans twisted and destroyed beyond recognition, seeing them remade, repaired. To compare that with simply spending years upon years watching Elves screaming and writhing as they dangled by their chains, locked away in the dark, dark underground, watching them slowly warp and wither away until they finally broke… Well.

It was worth the possible threat of AM's anger.