#Sauron fic

[dracowars]

devil's lair | annatar

pairing: annatar x ringsmith!elf!reader

word count: 4,4k

summary: where annatar shows particular interest in a certain ringsmith

a/n: i couldn't help myself, the need to write for this man was unbearable 🙏🏻 the second season was incredible! a quick disclaimer: i'm not too deep into the lore of the whole lord of the rings universe. i've only seen the movies a few times and never read the books. either way, i tried making it as accurate as possible and did my research!! hope you enjoy, feedback is always appreciated <3

warnings: angst, manipulation, violence, mentions of blood

universe: the rings of power

With careful, delicate movements you decorate the shining ring in front of you, surrounding the blue crystal with golden decorations. While you were working on this specific ring, you completely lost track of time, entirely absorbed in your work, and didn't even notice that the others had already put down their tools for the day. Because of you being so utterly concentrated, the tip of your tongue sticking out on the side of your mouth, you also don't notice that you are being watched right now.

With his arms crossed, he stands on the gallery on the other side of the forge, his gaze never leaving your figure as he watches your every move. Annatar has seen many hardworking elves over the decades, but such great dedication and drive for perfection surprises even him. He couldn't take his eyes off you even if he wanted to. You mesmerize him.

A slight smile pulls at the corners of his mouth as he watches you examine your creation, the wonder that is the result of the finest of elven arts.

Not entirely satisfied with your work, you reach for the next tool, but flinch when a hand is suddenly placed on top of yours, preventing you from picking it up. The moment your hands touch, a spark shoots through your body. A feeling that you can't quite describe flows through your veins. It is the same feeling you experience every time he enters a room. Startled, you look up at his face, his eyes flashing maliciously for a moment, and breathe a sigh of relief.

"I didn't mean to startle you, my lady", Annatar says softly, his tall and broad frame almost hovering over you as he stands so close to you.

"Oh, you.. didn't. I just thought I was alone. I didn't think anyone would still be here. Except for Lord Celebrimbor, of course", you answer, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks beneath his unyielding gaze. You lower your head, not sure what reaction to expect from him as he just stares at you from above.

The hand that lays on top of yours slides across the table to the ring. You watch as he slowly and carefully removes the ring from its holder and finally brings it in front of his face to examine it up close. Not sure if he is pleased, you nervously play with your hands and don't dare to look at his face.

"Breathtaking", you finally hear his soft voice say in a whisper, which makes you look up and, to your surprise, he looks directly at you. With a genuine smile, he nods at the ring he holds between his thumb and index finger. "You've done a wonderful job. Celebrimbor is lucky to have you in his forge."

"Oh, you think too highly of me. I appreciate your words but Lord Celebrimbor himself did most of the work. He is the master of this forge and the maker of these rings. I just gave this one the finishing touches."

"And you did an impeccable job", he marvels, an unmistakable sparkle in his eyes.

These words make the slight blush spread further across your face. Annatar gently reaches for your hand and guides it upwards so that he can carefully place the ring on your palm. With a frown, you observe this movement, feeling how the tips of his fingers slightly graze your palm as he places the ring inside. Once more, you feel that sudden pull, not overpowering but distinctly noticeable.

For a few seconds you stare at each other without another word, your hand remaining in the same position. The slight smirk that surrounds his lips, the wrinkles that form around his eyes because of it - all of this makes your heart beat faster for some inexplicable reason. You need a moment, a moment he clearly enjoys, to break free from your trance. In an attempt to escape this situation, you look in all directions while smoothing down the fine fabric of your dress, desperately searching for something to say or do.

"I- I think I should get back to my work", you finally say at the exact same time as Annatar softly whispers: "You have the face of a queen."

"W-What?", you ask, surprised and not sure if you heard his words correctly. He stares straight into your eyes for another moment before lowering his head with a smile, his long hair falling from his shoulders in front of his face as he takes a step back and hides his hands behind his back.

"Keep up your good work and one day you will be as great as your master", are the last words he says before he turns around and slowly leaves the forge. You watch him go, hoping that he will turn around once again and tell you more, but he just disappears through the large doors. What remains hidden from your sight, however, is the wicked smile he wears on his lips upon leaving.

"A queen?", you whisper quietly to yourself once the doors close behind him. You look around, meeting the eyes of Celebrimbor who is currently looking down at you from his gallery with narrowed eyes. Softly smiling at him, you turn back to your workbench and look down at yourself, shaking your head in denial.

You must have misheard.

════════════

The darkness that surrounds you is frightening. The small flame that suddenly appears in front of you seems to attract you, but the closer you get, the bigger the flame becomes. Eventually it turns so big that a monstrous creature rears up in front of you, letting out a deafening scream. Its flaming skin blinds you, its merciless eyes searching for prey. Helplessly, you grab the first objects you can find in an attempt to defend yourself against this dark being.

Until, suddenly, you stand in front of Celebrimbor, one of the rings created for men in his hand. You gasp for air and stumble back a few steps, hyperventilating as you are in complete shock. As you back up, trying to escape from everyone's stares, you bump into someone and if it weren't for him placing his hands on your arms to steady you, you would have fallen over. Meeting Annatar's gentle eyes when you look up to identify your saviour, a certain calm flows through you immediately. He looks down at you, his brow furrowed as he sees you in such a distraught state.

"What happened?", Celebrimbor asks you, his hand reaching out in a hopeless attempt to calm you down, but you flinch away.

"I was in a place similar to this one. But.. shrouded in mist and utter darkness. I saw.. flames, a huge fire. At first, I thought it was the forge, but.. it was alive. Tall, and its skin was made of flames. I-It was surrounded by death. I was surrounded by death. I looked into its eyes and.. and saw..", you try to make sense of the otherwordly experience, walking around in dismay, finding Annatar's face as his concerned gaze meets yours. "I think it's been here among us, all along."

For a split second, Annatar seems to be taken aback by your statement. However, his face shows immediate concern again as he steps closer to you, slowly, careful not to scare you away.

"You are with us now. There's nothing to fear", he states, giving you an encouraging smile. "Look around. All is well."

Staring at him, you have to blink several times to realize that everything you saw wasn't real. That the ring just overpowered you. And yet, your body bears the scars of it. You look around, see the faces of the other elves, of your master, of your friends, all of who are looking at you with such concern as if you were about to die on the battlefield. Feeling weak, you take another staggering step backwards and lower your head in the process, your hand on your chest where your heart is still trembling violently. You fight back the tears as you slowly sink onto the steps behind you and feel grateful that Annatar is answering Celebrimbor's justified questions about how things could have gone so terribly wrong in the first place.

From the distance, you hear him explaining that you used more mithril in order to protect the men from the immense power of the rings. Deep down, you knew that it wouldn't work, and yet Annatar convinced you all to try it regardless since Celebrimbor wouldn't offer his help in forging the Nine.

You only look up again when everyone has dispersed, leaving the forge after the eventful evening. Everyone except for Celebrimbor and Annatar. The Lord of Eregion kneels down in front of you and when you try to get up quickly because you never meant for him to fall to his knees for you, he gently pushes you back down. It is apparent that he doesn't know what to say, so he just forces a smile, full of pity and regret, onto his face and gives you several encouraging pats on the shoulder before standing up again, ascending the steps to his gallery.

You look after him, your eyes still glassy, and when you turn around again, you are slightly startled by the hand that is now hovering right in front of your face. You can still see worry flicker in Annatar's eyes, even as you take his hand and let him help you up.

"I'm sorr-"

"You are very brave", Annatar interrupts you immediately, making your eyes widen in an instant. How can he say that when you can barely stand upright even now? But all you can see in his eyes is that he is telling you the truth, that it is actually what he believes.

"Some who behold the Unseen world are never quite at home in this one again", he tells you, looking down at your trembling hands that you quickly hide behind your back.

"Have you seen it?", you ask in Sindarin, wondering why he seems to know so much about it. As an answer, Annatar nods with a sorrowful smile.

"In its light, things appear as they truly are. Beings of differing shades of light. And its darkness", he continues, his hand gently moving down your arm, bringing your hand to the front again. "It pains me to say, for what you saw, I did not wish for any of you to see until I had helped him to heal."

Briefly distracted by his surprisingly tender touch, you watch as he wraps his larger hand around yours to prevent it from shaking. Once you have processed his words, however, you gasp slightly and search his eyes for any signs that what he says is true.

"You mean.. You speak of.. Lord Celebrimbor?", you ask in disbelief, looking up at the gallery where he just disappeared to. You hear Annatar only from afar, telling you how 'vulnerable to the shadow' Celebrimbor is.

"Promise me you will speak to none other of it. Including him", you hear him say more clearly now as he uses Sindarin, a language he usually does not speak to you.

"I promise", you nod, feeling the warmth spread through your body from where his hand is holding yours tightly. You look at him as he gives you another smile, something he seems to do a lot around you lately, and force one onto your own lips as well. His sharp features are illuminated by the warm fire of the forge on one side, the other is shrouded in darkness. The fire, crackling and peaceful, however, does not warm you at all, only his thumb, which gently runs over the back of your hand, manages to do so and it seems like the light is now meeting the entirety of his face.

Unable to hold his soft gaze any longer, you turn away. You look around the forge, worried about Celebrimbor. If what Annatar is telling you is in fact true, then..

You desperately want to help Celebrimbor, but you don't know how or if you are even able to. So you tell yourself that it is probably better to leave this task to the Lord of Gifts.

While you are deep in your thoughts, you suddenly feel Annatar's fingers on your chin, guiding your face back to his so you look at him. With his other hand, he tucks a strand of your long elven hair behind your pointed ear, his eyes fixed on yours.

"You needn't worry, my lady", he says in a low voice, his hand cupping your cheek.

"I'm not a-"

"You are to me", he interrupts once more, not letting you finish, and you feel his face getting even closer to yours. His eyes focus on your lips as he comes closer and takes in all your senses completely, your thoughts are silenced and you close your eyes. When you open them again a little later, suddenly feeling a bitter cold, you see him standing far away from you, at the doors to the forge.

"Stay here. Keep an eye on him while I'm gone", are his last words before he leaves, leaving you cold and speechless, your thoughts and feelings a complete mess.

════════════

You can't recall how long you have been working on these rings. After what happened to you, Celebrimbor thought it would be better to banish all other elves from the forge so as not to cause any more damage. He wanted to send you away too, but Annatar convinced him otherwise. And Annatar told you that you are safe here, in the forge. Although you have to admit that you are wondering from what exactly you are safe. Because watching Celebrimbor step further into the darkness each passing day is far from any kind of safety. At one point, he even forgot your name.

You are utterly exhausted and have not left the forge for weeks, partly out of fear for your master.

A sudden loud clattering noise jolts you from your position. Looking around in confusion, you notice that you seem to have fallen asleep at your workbench, one of the rings for men glittering in front of you. Another loud noise reminds you why you were woken up in the first place and you quickly run up the stairs, gripping the fabric of your dress in your hands so you don't trip on it. Once at the top, you search for the source of the disturbing noises and finally find Celebrimbor sitting on the floor, motionless. Startled, you stop dead in your tracks and only approach slowly when he shows no reaction to your arrival.

"Lord Celebrimbor?", you ask into the void, but he just stares at a spot on the ground. "What happened?", you continue, seeing Fëanor's hammer lying on the ground next to him, some vessels broken on the ground.

You carefully walk towards him and finally sit down right next to him, not knowing what to do or say. You speak to him several times, but each time you are greeted with silence. As you look at him worriedly, you can see tears that are threatening to escape his eyes, his hands trembling. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, you feel utterly helpless.

Until you suddenly notice movement out of the corner of your eye and are surprised to see that you didn't hear Annatar enter the forge and come up here.

The sight of him finally gives you hope. Your heart beats a little faster, just like every time you met since that one faithful day where you got so dangerously close. You can't explain what he does to you, but he has enchanted you and you feel an endless emptiness when he isn't with you. His appearance in the forge is the highlight of your day, when you create the rings together and exchange loving glances here and there. You can't describe your feelings, but secretly you hope that he feels the same.

Annatar's gaze wanders first to you, then to Celebrimbor, obviously upset that he is not working on the rings like he should.

"The rings. Are they finished?", he asks in a serious voice, his gaze fixed on the elven smith. In response, Celebrimbor only shushes him.

"Wait for it", Celebrimbor whispers with a smile on his lips that sends a shiver down your spine. Exchanging a concerned look with Annatar, you place your right hand around Celebrimbor's forearm as if this could somehow bring him back to his senses. Whatever is going on, you absolutely do not like it.

"Wait for what?", Annatar inquires to know and Celebrimbor points to the spot he has been staring at all this time. There, you are surprised to see a tiny mouse making its way across the floor, its nose in the air, probably searching for something to eat. His finger remains pointed at the small creature as he comments its scurrying with a humourless chuckle. As if expecting some kind of reaction, he finally looks up at Annatar who meets his unusual behaviour with a smile. Meanwhile, it has you even more worried.

"Captivating", is all Annatar says, his hands behind his back as if he observed such strange behaviour every day. Briefly, he looks over to you, his gaze apologetic but there is even more to it. This quick glance also reminds you of what he indicated at before: that Celebrimbor's mind is, slowly but surely, descending into dangerous territories. Memories of raging flames enter your mind and you remove your hand from him as if you burned yourself.

"It is a pattern", Celebrimbor continues, looking at Annatar until he apparently doesn't get the reaction he wanted and therefore decides to address you instead. "Do you not see? A cycle. Repeating itself at intervals throughout the day."

"I..", you start, but clearly Celebrimbor isn't finished yet.

"And there is more." With that, he abruptly gets up and goes to his workbench, rambling on. However, you have trouble following his words because nothing he says makes sense to you: You have seen this mouse for the first time today, the coal is almost completely extinguished by now and the candle has also mostly burned down. But Celebrimbor looks at you with such conviction that you feel incredibly sorry. You desperately want to believe him, but all that is repeating itself in your head is what the ring showed you.

You don’t know what to say and Annatar has trouble calming the blacksmith down as well. Finally, you decide to carefully approach Celebrimbor who is now standing in front of some of the rings on his workbench, his shoulders hunched.

"Lord Celebrimbor.."

Before you can reach him, however, he turns around angrily, the table he's leaning on rattling from the force.

"What have you done to me?!", he shouts at the Lord of Gifts, tears threatening to spill over. There is enormous hate and anger in his voice, but all you can hear is fear. He repeats his words over and over again until he suddenly picks up a hammer and misses Annatar by just a few inches. The tool breaks the window behind him with a loud shatter. In complete shock, you look at your master with wide eyes, only to realize that he suddenly seems paralyzed.

You use this opportunity to approach him again and slowly walk towards him, but his gaze is fixed on the broken window behind Annatar. You gently grab Celebrimbor's arm, but your touch suddenly tears him out of his paralysis. He violently pulls his arm away from you and stumbles to the doors to the balcony, opening them to let in the bright light of day.

You want to go to him again, wanting to find out what got into him, but this time a hand closes around your wrist and pulls you back, stopping you. When you look back, Annatar shakes his head in pity. So you both watch as Celebrimbor begins to silently sob on the balcony. His whole body shakes and as he backs away he almost stumbles to the ground. He looks around the entire forge and looks like he's about to lose his composure entirely.

"Lord Celebrimbor. Please, tell me what's wrong. I don't understand..", you ask, worried, and, despite Annatar's warning, walk towards him, your hands on your chest, over your aching heart.

"You don't hear it?" Only now does he seem to notice you again, to really see you.

You blink several times at this strange question. Right now, you find it very difficult to follow his words and although you really did not believe in what Annatar told you until now - you didn't want to believe it - everything seems to point to exactly that: the creation of the rings has driven Celebrimbor's mind into the dark abyss. Because the only thing you hear is the peaceful chirping of birds outside and the crackling of the fire still burning.

"I don't hear anything", you say in a low voice that breaks at the end. Seeing him like this and not being able to help deeply wounds you. At your words, Celebrimbor's glassy eyes widen almost imperceptibly and he lets out a shaky breath, stumbling closer to you.

"Y-You.. You don't?", he asks, now directly in front of you, his voice trembling. You shake your head apologetically.

"But.. But the debris almost killed you! Look, it hit right where you were working just a moment ago. T-The whole forge is in ruins. And you are.. You are bleeding", Celebrimbor rambles on, tears running down his cheeks upon seeing your incredulous expression. He swallows hard as he gently strokes your forehead with his thumb as if he were wiping something away. But the next moment Annatar is standing right behind you, forcefully grabbing Celebrimbor's wrist and thus stops him in his movement.

"Don't dare touch her", he says through gritted teeth. "You can't be trusted in your current condition, friend."

Celebrimbor's hand, which Annatar has firmly in his grip, is right in front of your face and you notice that there is no trace of blood on his finger. Unintentionally, you rub the spot he just touched and feel absolutely nothing.

"But she's bleeding! What have you done to us?!", Celebrimbor suddenly defends himself vehemently and in an attempt to free his hand from Annatar's grip, he uses so much force that his hand suddenly collides with your face. The hard blow and the force behind it make you stumble to the side, your hand placed on your now throbbing cheek in shock. Tears sting your eyes and you look up in fear, right into Annatar's enraged face.

"I wish you hadn't done this", he says with so much wrath in his voice that it makes you shudder. He rolls his shoulders before turning to the Lord of Eregion with these words. Celebrimbor, however, looks just as shocked as you.

"I- I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to hurt her! You have to believe me!", Celebrimbor sobs violently and reaches out his hand to you, but he doesn't get far because Annatar immediately pushes him in the opposite direction, bringing him to the floor. While Celebrimbor scrambles to get up, Annatar is stomping towards him with determination in his eyes, his fist raised. But once he hears your soft, trembling voice, he instantly pauses.

"Don't!", you cry out in despair. Annatar looks at you, sees the fear hiding in your eyes, and finally makes a decision. He lets go of Celebrimbor and quickly comes back to you, helping your trembling frame to stand upright.

"Everything is going to be alright. He can't hurt you anymore", he comforts you, his eyes searching yours for any signs of how you are feeling. Carefully, he lifts your hand, which is still on your cheek, only to find a red bruise that makes the anger inside him boil. Snorting heavily, his nostrils flaring, he tries to suppress this anger. You, however, try to look past him to catch a look at Celebrimbor, so Annatar takes your face in his hands and forces you to look at him.

"Look at me. You don't need to be afraid. You're safe with me", he reassures you and you nod slowly in response, your eyes still full of tears. Annatar gives you a small, sympathetic smile and tucks your hair behind your ear before he runs his thumb over the spot on your forehead that Celebrimbor had already touched earlier. His fingertip softly strokes your skin there, his face concentrated as he does so, but there is still no blood when he pulls his hand away. He then leans forward and places a feather-light kiss on your forehead, distracting you from the throbbing of your sore cheek.

"I'll take care of him", he finally declares, one hand gently stroking the back of your head, smoothing down your hair, the other hand holding yours. When he turns around to turn his attention back to Celebrimbor, however, you are both surprised to see that he is gone, the doors to the forge wide open. Annatar wants to immediately follow him, but your hand is still tightly entwined with his. Before you can say anything, he beats you to it.

"Do. Not. Follow. Us", he says urgently, emphasizing each word so you get the message, squeezing your hand. "Go to your chambers, but do not, under any circumstances, leave this tower."

The vehemence in his voice makes you nod, even though you're not even sure what he's protecting you from. His eyes are screaming at you to trust him, to obey his words, so you do. Smiling softly, he lifts your intertwined hands and places a kiss on the back of yours. Before he can turn to leave, however, you gather all your remaining courage and quickly grab his face, stand on your tiptoes, and kiss him. You have no idea what this cruel world has in store for you next, which is why you wanted to at least let him know how you feel. Since he kisses you back after overcoming his initial surprise, you assume that the feeling is mutual, mending your shattered heart a little.

For a moment, you think you hear something, someone shouting, screaming, but when you finally let him go and watch his tall frame leave through the doors, you are met with silence once more.

[pursuitseternal]

Hello my partner-in-crime!

Could I pretty please have Sauron x Reader with prompt number 7: "Can you feel how much I want you?"

Love you! ❤️😘

“𝕿𝖔 𝕭𝖊 𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖆𝖉𝖊…”

First Age Sauron x f!Reader | Dead Dove | 3.7K

Summary: There is no hope in Angband, in the dungeons of the Dark Vala…. But there is the Servant. Sauron.

A master craftsman and artist, forever seeking perfection, obsessed with creating his own beauty, and yet a victim of torment by his master that twists his sense of creativity to something vile and precious only to him.

CW: Dead dove: Do Not Eat, graphic violence, torture porn, bondage, temperature play, forge sex, corruption, marking branding biting, mind breaking, mind control, body worship, First Age Sauron, if evil why (literally) hot

Ao3 link | Tolkien Masterlist

You can see your breath, hear your heart beating slower and slower with each passing hour. Languishing. A slow death. A painful death. A merciless one that meant to break you without hope.

There is no hope in Angband.

Even the floors here are ice. Not even prison rats scurry around your cell. Your pointed ears have long grown deaf to the noises of the dungeon, numb from the icy chill of this evil frozen North. The chains on your neck and wrists have long since frozen to your skin. Death will be a relief, you sigh, when once again you’ll see the shores of Valinor and find comfort in the Halls of Mandos.

That thought makes your heart warm just enough to last a few more beats. But then you hear them—footsteps—lighter than Orc, more graceful than Balrog… and your body stiffens as you hear that sound on the icy air.

Humming. Music. Means one thing. Ainur.

Please not the Dark Lord, you beg to divine forces too far away to hear you. Your pleas have fallen on deaf ears. But you hope not this time.

“Do not fear,” that voice croons from the shadows. His presence seems to instantly thaw your extremities, warmth seeping in where there had only been cold for so, so long. You see eyes and movement in the darkness, but from his stature and bearing, you know it’s not the Lord of Angband…

It is the Servant.

His gaze is sharp, eyes darting over your crumpled mess of a body nearly frozen to the floor. His hair is bright; reds like blood and oranges like flames hang in long waves down his back and shoulders. His voice seems to tickle right in your ear, even at this distance, even as he stalks closer towards the bars of your cell. “Do not fear, I’m here to free you.”

“Wh-what?” You croak, the truth of those words do not deceive you, no matter how much you long for them to be true.

Those lips twitch as with a wave of his hand, the iron door swings open, the groaning hinges echoing against stone. “Well,” he suddenly sounds sharp, exacting, “free you from your cell, Elf. You are by no means free, not in body or in will, nor will you ever be again.”

Reality smacks you, your chest constricting.

“The Dark Lord has no need of such a small, frail Elf like you,” he strides in, grasping your chin in fingers impossibly hot. His touch sears like the fires of the forge, the stink of brimstone and smoke fill your nose. “You’d make a weak, pathetic Orc.” Then he shoves you by your face back to the ground at his feet. Your manacled hands catch yourself just in time to keep your nose from smashing against stone.

“Fortunately, what is unfit to serve the Master is deemed worthy of his Servant,” that voice returns to such silken, lilting tones, and you look into his face. His bright brown eyes rake over you, assessing and evaluating your worth, as if you were a precious gem examined for the flaws in your cut.

Those eyes, the more you stare into them, the brighter they seem to shine, a mix of golden browns that bubble and simmer with flame. You see them, the ripples of his power that creep beneath this disguise of a mortal form. “Come,” he orders you, those frozen irons and chains melting from your skin to clatter on the floor around you. “There is much work to be done.”

His grip on your wrist tightens, and you realize with certainty that his skin is hot… flushed and searing you by touch alone. It would frighten you, if it wasn’t for the sense of reprieve it gives from the biting cold that has settled in your bones from your imprisonment. If anything, you draw your scantily clad body closer to his, seeking that thawing sensation…his black robes barely brush your flesh, The bared skin of your arms, even patches of your torso where your gown has shredded to rags with violence and time crave to be nearer.

It feels so… good. After so long in the cold alone, to feel another’s touch, it makes you melt. He guides you through the dark, and even though your jaw aches from that fleeting ferocity in your cell, you can’t help but wish for more warmth shared against your skin.

The memory should terrify you but… it doesn’t. Your mind only remembers how good those fingers felt, their warmth, their command…

And you crave more against your better judgment. You would call it hope, but there is no hope in Angband. No hope. Only craving. As if you know that the only thing that awaits you is fire and blissful burning.

Shadows deepen as you walk, those brown-orange eyes flicker at you beside him as you both ascend the darkened stairs. That scent of smoke and ashen stone that clings to his skin suffocates you. Your frail lungs burn with every inhale, and as you reach the ascent, you see why.

No ice prison, he’s brought you to a massive forge. Torches burn and flicker, but no light is brighter than the gaping maw of a furnace. Orange flame reflects in his eye as he scans you. Grip deathly tight on your wrist, he leads you with graceful movements… lithe and sinuous. Like a snake.

Like a predator stalking his prey.

The faintest of smiles turns his full lips, and he stops you beside a great metal anvil… wide and long and big enough for any great creation. You recall the tales of such things from those of your kind who had come from Valinor, from the workshops of Aulë himself, or of Fëanor and his descendants.

It is on this warm, dark metal that he effortlessly lifts you up to seat you. Its surface is roughened with divets and grooves, the scars of the Servant’s work spanning its face. That relaxing heat creeps through the skin of your ass and climbs your spine until you feel a smile stretch on your cracked lips.

His fingers wander their soothing touch over your collarbone, the slightest push guides you to lay back on the heated anvil. You stare into the ceiling, seeing only the gathering darkness offset by rippling steam and flickering light. His touch continues to dance on your chest, tracing the parts of you where starvation has prodded your bones towards the surface.

And that sharp face, that handsome face, smiles… so warmly. “The Dark Lord insists that we each are forged in the shadows, that what has once been bathed in the light is made anew in the dark. Morgoth’s way is to maim… to ruin and torture and kill the light of beings he drafts into his service…”

You see a flicker behind his eyes, a memory of his own past perhaps, you surmise. A recollection none too pleasant as it darkens his gaze and stiffens the corners of his smiling lips.

Then, he turns that smile down upon you, spread so perfectly on his anvil. “But such is not my way. I am no jailer or executioner. I am an artisan, a craftsman of greatest skill, and I shall make you anew, my treasure.”

His fingers trace your gaunt face, warming it, caressing the spots that have grown stiff and lined with fear. His voice is dulcet, sweet and singsong as he purrs down, and you want nothing more than to feel those full, smirking lips on your skin and taste the sweet promises that drip from his tongue. Before you even realize your need, before you can name your inner burning as desire, two words fall from your panting mouth. “My Lord…” you whisper.

And the Servant smiles. It’s radiant, a flash of brightness in his eye and a brilliance to his grin. But he tuts his tongue, chiding you for the youthful creation you are. “Tsk, none of that. I am no Dark Lord. I am called many things… Admirable, Abominable… Gorthaur… Sauron…”

His hands come to rest at the top of your throat, a slight pressure around your neck as his thumb traces your lower lip.

“But you, my treasure, you shall call me by one simple word…. Hîr.”

Master.

Your breath catches in your burning lungs, your tongue already noiselessly testing out the syllable as it dances at its tip.

His reddish brows arch, pleased at your submission as he can see every little twitch of your mouth.

“You are a rare beauty,” he whispers, “the undiluted blessing of the One shines in the skin of the Elves, their eyes still bright with the memory of the Two Trees…”

He peers into yours, almost wistful, as if he longs to catch a glimpse of that Starlight to capture for his own. Sauron lowers his mouth, hovering just out of reach of your own lips. The scent of his forge is so strong, you can taste it, you are lost in the wash of his singeing breath on your face. “Hîr,” you obediently rasp, arching off the anvil to catch his lips.

And he lets you, lips and tongue so overwhelmingly warm, there is no sensation in your body other than his mouth as he devours.

Wave after wave of his mouth on yours, you fail to sense the snaking of chains around your arms and legs until they have chinched themselves bitingly hard into your flesh. Then you panic, your heart thundering no longer from pure arousal, but that wild rhythm of racing fear. You tug at them, fight them, and with one last desperate plea, you beg for Manwë, Varda… Eru himself to hear you.

But there is no rescue, no whisper of a reply to your prayers.

There is only Sauron’s shimmering toothy smile in the dark as his eyes dance over your form… spread so perfectly for him to work with. “Do you know, my treasure, why I’ve loathed the beauty of the Elves? Eru chose to bless you, to gift your kind the wisdom and graces first given only to me, to my kind… and you squander them. You cannot fathom, cannot see the greater purpose such power could serve.”

He’s pacing between your body and his tools, spread so evenly and orderly beside him. A long iron brand in his grip, he sticks it in the opening of the furnace.

The hissing of metal heating makes you shiver. Makes your skin crawl.

Fingers pull away the rest of your rags, baring every bit of your taut skin to his flickering gaze. “You are beautiful, but it is shallow, it is false. And I, my treasure, will purify you. I’ll remake you in my image and likeness, a thing of incomparable radiance ....” You whine as his hands wrap their warmth around your breasts. “You now are a thing to be admired… as I once was,” he croons down at you, pulling your ass to the edge of the anvil, your chain impossibly tight around your arms, breaking you in their unyielding hold as your legs hang down precariously.

Those lips press searing kisses down your neck, over the places where your mortal heart is thundering. His eyes flash up at you, and in that moment, you swear you see the reflection of the furnace beside you. Or perhaps it is more… the power that lies barely concealed in this handsome, sensual form. Those full lips wrap around one nipple, then the other, an inferno drummed up at his call races through your veins.

It is agony, hot and wild, that courses in your flesh. Never would one of your kind be so… wanton. Lust feeds your form, every bit of your skin wants to be touched… and the more he caresses your breasts and trails his mouth lower over the hollow of your belly, the less you care if that contact is pleasure… or pain.

They are one under his command, your mind purrs to your reason. Every thought reduces to the mere sensation of his mouth, his hands that press now between your spread thighs. The moment his tongue touches you, parting your folds to taste you, an unholy sound tears from your lips. Flames pulse through your veins, every lick and swirl of his tongue draws ungodly ecstacy. You weep for the feeling, the overwhelming waves of pleasure he coaxes from your nearly-broken body as if he drew your very soul, your fëa, to the surface.

Words tumble from your lips, nonsensical and varied in language until it is one word over and over again. You rasp it, cry it, scream it as he brings you right to the edge of your climax… Hîr… Hîr… Master.

His laughter tickles your flesh and your mind all at once, the sensation of his presence in your skull and his tongue in your walls throws you into oblivion. Your climax slams into you, all fire and heat and tension as he withdraws from you in that moment of bliss. Your chain grows impossibly tighter as you convulse on the metal beneath you, and for a split second, you wonder where he has gone….

At first you think it’s the ice of your prison again that slices through the warm pool of pleasure in your belly. But then, you open your eyes… it is not ice but white hot fire on your skin as his brand marks your inner thigh. The hissing, the steam, the scent of charming flesh takes over your pleasure, stealing it from your body. And all the while, he smirks down from between your soaked thighs. Orange hair catches the glow of the brand as he lifts it, a satisfied glint in the flames of his own gaze.

Fear races down your nerves, every corner of your being screams at you to fight, to run and resist… the pain almost breaks through those tendrils of shadow that have woven into your senses. And now, as you inhale, you can smell it.

Death. Ashen and purifying. You see him, eyes ringed in flame and breath blackened like smoke… your heart could burst from your need to resist…

Until you feel his hands on your skin again, that warmth somehow driving the dread back into the recesses of your mind.

That teasing touch traces the prongs of his mark, three of them, ugly and deformed, a perversion of the pronged crown that rests on the Dark Lord, the Dark Vala’s head.

Your body shakes with the shock of pain, even as he presses his lips to kiss that angry flesh. “Ninya,” he whispers against it. Mine.

The pain intensifies as he removes his touch, the euphoria of your climax dulling to leave you with only the searing agony he’s caused in its wake. “Mine, and like me, you shall be remade from admirable to abominable… and I will always possess you.”

The sound of liquid swirls in glass, the soft tapping of a brush against its rim… he stands over you, eyes roaming your bared form and lingering on the places he deems most worthy… or is it unworthy?

“The light of the Valar still shines too brightly on your skin, so soft almost like pearls of the Sea… it too shall have to be remade,” he rasps. The black bottle in his hand coming closer, the wooden brush wiping the excess fluid before he brings it to your legs.

The bite of acid eats at your skin, burning you, tearing you inside out. That music in his voice invades your mind, warping the pain into a warm sort of pleasure. Every drip of acid on your flesh as he paints higher and higher… your thighs, your belly… it shifts into that hot coil of need roiling behind your navel.

He doesn’t slather you, he’s not destroying you… it’s painstaking and exact the way he draws into your skin, making it burn and hiss and bubble anew. Remaking. Whirls and swirls and swipes in the precise places his critical eye deems worthy.

It’s agony… blissful agony… Every scream from your throat breaks into a moan. The perversion of your pain into bliss brings a drugged sort of grin to your face. The grin of a fool.

He sets the brush back inside the bottle, his hand tracing the rises and valleys of your face, your sharpened cheekbones, the hollows of your cheeks. His fingers dance on your wincing face, warm and burning, a herald of the pain you know he’s about to inflict. Your heart will surely explode, and your death might just be the final offering you make… But then, he cups your cheek, fingers laced in the mess of your long and knotted hair.

“Don’t be afraid, my treasure. You are being oh so brave… oh so valiant as you are remade.” His kiss instantly numbs your pain and slows your heart, the torture of resistance in your mind instantly silenced. That coil of need flames anew as his hand wanders back over your mound, dipping that addictive touch into your slick.

You gasp, eyes rolled back, spine arching off the anvil’s metal. Then you look into his face, the abyss of fire and darkness behind his eyes sucks you inside, lost to anything but the sensations of his fingers that tease you and torture you in a different way. A more pleasing way.

His fingers slide so easily, playing you like an instrument in his grasp. Your moans are the melody of his composing, the bucking of your hips keeps a steady rhythm, one perfectly timed to the thrust of his fingers. His mouth on yours once more, the biting of his teeth on your lips, the growls of his own pleasure in his throat form a counterpoint so intoxicating, there is nothing left but the music of him finger fucking you.

All that pain that is bound in your nerves and coiled in your belly bursts… white hot and violent as you come. Then, you scream until your voice cracks, until your vocal chords are fried from the force and volume he demands from your spent form.

“Good, my treasure…” he rasps against your lips as they fall silent. “Ninya… you’ve done so well,” he purrs into your pointed ear as the world grows dark to your vision, as your body gives in and falls unconscious. Those little praises bring a twisted smile to your face as you drift into oblivion. “When you wake, you’ll be mine alone, mine forever… the most beautiful abomination I have yet crafted…”

And the final sensation to pierce through the veil of your slumber is the sting of acid on your forehead and cheek… the flicker of pain plunging you completely into the darkness at long last.

There is no hope in Angband… There is also no time. Only darkness and craving. Hunger and satisfaction.

Pain. And pleasure.

It’s a lesson you are taught nightly, at least you assume it’s nightly… whenever it is that Sauron returns to his chambers where you are kept sequestered away. The chains from his forge are gone, replaced with elegant links of gold and gem-entrusted trappings that hang on your frame. Your hands fiddle with them, where they drape down your arms in layers, where they sweep over your bare skin to your middle.

You’ve long forgotten the feeling of clothes. There is only the bed and your elegant chains, the heat of his touch and the sting of his biting teeth and burning brand and lashing whips.

You wish that your memories would dim… that the burden of your elven heritage would forsake you as easily as that fair, starkissed body you once called your own. Tears prick your eyes, your own fingers steadily tracing your once soft skin, touch dancing over blade scars and the rough ridges of his burning… the brands of his possession forever glaring at you from your thighs, not unlike those ghostly flickering eyes that haunt you each day… whether Sauron visits you or not.

“Mairaza…” the whisper brushes your mind before it settles in your ear. “My precious…” you’ve learned his new tongue… this speech he’s created for his servants, for you.

The warmth of his body seeps into you from behind, that scent of fire, of ash and smoke and forge excites you now… it conjures that swirl of damp heat in your cunt. Already you grit your teeth, craving in excess, hungering for more. The thin chains of gold and jewels clink and jingle as those calloused hands caress your body. He lingers over his marks, the scars of his pleasure-pain that have molded you into his own creation.

“Can you feel it, Mairaza, can you feel how much I want you?”

You clench around nothingness, hoping beyond hope that he fills you soon and grants you release this time.

Soft words of his own invented tongue purr inside your brain, praising your scars, the healed-over bubbles of flesh from that day he claimed you…

Sauron turns you, your attention lost in the bottomless depth of his eyes as those magical fingers caress the scars that curve in serpentine shapes over your cheeks. “Beautiful, so beautiful,” he rasps. “Can you feel how much I want you, body and soul?” his lips whisper against your own. “Can you feel how much you are mine, Ninya?”

The words do not come to you outloud; they flood your very being, racing to your awareness down the tether that binds you to him.

That taste of his mouth swallows you whole, and there is nothing left of hope and peace. All that remains is the fire of lust and the darkness of desire. You cannot escape, nor would you seek to anymore. No lies or deception are required any longer, for you feel his want and crave his attentions…

He is always in your mind, his marks always on your body… his greatest creation. For now.

A gift to @myfavouritelunatic for her ask, for @marimosalad for betaing and inspired by @ogyscrypt and his masterpiece of a nsfw audio you should totally check out… Link on Reddit

[fannyspammy]

OK BUT WHEN ANNATAR WAS TELLING BRIMBY ABOUT THE PAIN HE EXPERIENCED?????? I could SMELLLLLL the SADIST & MASOCHISTIC FANFICS BREWING IMMEDIATELY

[storiesaplenty]

Coercion (18+)

Annatar (Sauron) x gn/Reader

The Rings of Power Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings. Smut under the cut. Oral. Cum swallowing. Use of a blindfold. coercion by Annatar

WC: 822

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Summary: Annatar calls for his favourite elf to come & see him, but it isn't to help with the last remaining rings.

"You called for me, Lord Annatar?" Their soft voice said to me.

I looked over my shoulder at the sound of their voice, already knowing that they were here.

The doors closed behind them, leaving the two of us alone.

I turned around to look at them, looking them up and down.

They were the most beautiful elf I have ever seen, and today is finally the day I make them mine.

I knew that Adar was coming any day now, and I did not have much time.

"Yes I did, now please have a seat." I pointed to the chair that I wanted them to sit in.

I took the seat across from them.

"I have noticed the wonderful work you have done with the rings, and I wanted to say thank you." I said to them, and I could see them trying to keep a smile off their face.

From what I gathered about them, was that their mother was an elf, and their father was a mere man.

Celebrimbor took pity on them, being a half-ling and all, and took them under his guidance.

They were kind of how should I say, flighty. Their human side seeming to take over more than the elf side.

"I am just doing what is asked of me my Lord." They said.

"I know, and I noticed. You always do each task without any complaints, and that is why I have brought you here to help me with one special task."

"Anything Lord Annatar." How sweet of them to be so eager to help me.

I felt my cock twitch under the fabric I am wearing.

"I have a message from the Valor, but I can not access it without someone who is a true believer."

"I am a true believer, but you have never had issues before."

They were confused.

How cute.

I stood up, walking around them in the seat, slowly.

"This message is of top priority, and as such, it comes to me in a different way. Now, will you help me or not?"

"Yes, Lord Annatar."

"Good. Now I need you to wear this blindfold." I placed a blindfold in their hand, and they looked at me, and then back at the blindfold.

"A bright, white light will appear and I do not wish any harm to come to you. Now, please put it on."

They did as I asked, and I did a few hand movements to make sure that they couldn't see anything.

"Now, I need you on the floor, on your knees, hands firmly in your lap."

I started to remove my clothes as they did as I asked.

My cock in my hand, as I jerked it up and down.

"Now, this part may be odd, but please know that it will not last long, and that this needs to be done to get the full message."

"Yes Lord Annatar."

"Good. Now keep your mouth open." I said as I placed the tip of my cock in their mouth.

I watched them carefully to see how they would react as I started to push my hips forward.

"You're doing so well." I said, my breath almost catching in my throat as they took me inch by inch down their throat.

"Now, this part may be a bit rough, but do not move away. We need to stay connected for this message to come through."

I pulled my hips back, leaving just the tip in their mouth before thrusting forward, making them choke just a bit around my cock, but they didn't move.

Not even when I put my hands on the back of their head and held them there was a fucked their face and mouth.

I made no sounds as I wanted them to believe that I was actually concentrating on trying to get a message from the Valor.

But I knew I was close.

I could feel my balls tense up, my thrusting was becoming erratic.

"Now, some liquid will come out, but I need you to swallow it." Was all I got before I came down their throat.

They quickly swallowed it all, not wasting a single drop.

I step back and they were trying to breathe through their nose as I quickly got dressed.

I took my seat once more. "You may take the blindfold off."

I watched as their confused eyes landed on me.

"Did you get the message my Lord?" They asked as they licked their lips, probably wondering what just happened.

"Yes, you did wonderful. I knew you were the Elf for the job."

A smile came over their face.

"Now, once you leave here, do not tell the others what has happened. No one else needs to know how special you are."

They stood up, and I dismissed them

I watched them as they left my room.

Now, how do I get them in my bed?

Part 2

[honeyfarts666]

An Ocean of Tears

A Sauron Redemption Fic

Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Animal Friends, Secret Child

Chapter 1: Prolog: A Begining Centuries in the Making  Chapter 2: Odd Companions Chapter 3: A Young Adventurer Chapter 4: The Wanderer Child  Chapter 5: A Procession of Elves Chapter 6: A Great Adversary Chapter 7: The Last Day in Rivendell Chapter 8: The Arrow Chapter 9: Don't Let Go

New! Chapter 10: A Brief Reunion on Ao3 or under the cut ↓

Torture Before the Sublime a smutty "deleted scene" (Also I made a mood board for Halbrand’s Garden)

Chapter Excerpt:

Halbrand rose slowly. He had no desire to startle her but the two of them were too far away to have a proper conversation. And that was what he needed to happen: a proper conversation. It was impossible to avoid now.

With slow, cautious steps, he walked toward them. At that moment, part of him wished he had fled before Galadriel woke. He had saved her life but, knowing her, that would do nothing to improve her mood.

@helenvader @rebelrebelwrites @coraleethroughthelookingglass @restless-tides @ringsofpowerfans @starladyy @perplecta @shia-the-buff @klynnvakarian @eowyn7023 @ringsofpowersource

Halbrand had imagined his reunion with Galadriel thousands of times in thousands of ways. Sometimes in a deep forest, the golden leaves of autumn falling around them like stars burning with enough passion to match their own. Sometimes it was on a battlefield in the Land of Ash, smoke twisting and concealing until they finally found each other. Sometimes in his home in the Greenwood where she would find him toiling away for the good of everyone but himself. And sometimes in the little garden where they last parted ways, the babbling stream soothing their hurts and time mending their hearts. He yearned for their reunion. But, in his soul, he couldn’t escape the reality that she would never trust him, even if she did love him.

In all his years of longing, he had never once dreamed it would be like this.

He watched as Estion ran to Galadriel and threw his arms around her. She tenderly brushed the hair from his face and held him gently. He didn’t dare breathe lest he disturb their reunion. The sight was more powerful and moving than anything he had ever witnessed. More lovely than Telperion and Laurelin. More brilliant than the Silmarills. More divine than even Luthien herself! This beautiful, radiant woman had given him a child as beautiful as she. He had never felt more unworthy but he never wanted the sight before him to end.

The moment shattered when Galadriel saw him. Her body language instantly changed. Her eyes grew wide with fear. She pulled Estion closer and wrapped her arms around him protectively. Estion also noticed the change in her. He glanced between Galadriel and Halbrand, failing to see the danger that she saw. “Mother!” Estion said with annoyance as he attempted to free himself from Galadriel’s iron grip. “It’s okay! He’s my friend.”

“Your friend?” Galadriel asked incredulously.

Halbrand rose slowly. He had no desire to startle her but the two of them were too far away to have a proper conversation. And that was what he needed to happen: a proper conversation. It was impossible to avoid now.

With slow, cautious steps, he walked toward them. At that moment, part of him wished he had fled before Galadriel woke. He had saved her life but, knowing her, that would do nothing to improve her mood. He sat down again a few feet away from them, his heart pounding and his mind racing. He folded his too-long limbs, cursing every choice he made when forming his body. Curse his pride! Curse his naivety! Curse his panging heart! He had no idea what he was going to say. What could he say that wouldn’t instantly set off the fire that also burned in her? He managed to mutter, “How is your shoulder?” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Stiff,” was Galadriel’s hoarse response. Her wide eyes were glued to him, never leaving him even for an instant.

It was too much for Halbrand. He could barely meet her eye for a second let alone hold her gaze. He took a shuddering breath, “So…”

“So…” Galadriel replied.

He managed to look at her for a moment. There was a soft blush spreading down her cheeks. It seemed that she was embarrassed too. That at least was a small comfort to Halbrand. Though his shame was certainly much deeper than hers. He was the one who had left her. He was the one who abandoned her and their child. He scratched his neck, anything to fill the awful silence that stretched on like the void.

Estion wouldn’t stop glancing between them. He had sat with Estion all night until the boy had fallen asleep. He couldn’t believe how easily Estion trusted him. The boy didn’t hesitate at all when he curled up in Halbrand’s arms and drifted into the world of dreams. He had imagined such a moment. The weight of his child resting against his chest. Feeling his breath come in and out in that steady rhythm. He hadn’t slept a wink. He didn’t dare. Only Eru knew if he would ever have the chance to hold Estion again. He didn’t think it was likely. Not with Manwë’s judgment looming ever nearer.

A thought occurred to him in the dark of the night. A vision came into his mind of a glorious palace, glowing with the light of the sun. He stood in the grand hall adorned in robes of gold and white. And next to him, stood Estion, a few years older and a few inches taller. He could not hear any words spoken, but in the vision, Estion looked at him with rapturous devotion. As any son would regard his beloved father.

At least, so he imagined. He had no idea what the relationship between fathers and sons was supposed to be. He recalled a distant memory, from his days in Valenor, when he had spied upon Fëanor and Finwë. The affection Finwë had for Fëanor was plain to see. Jealousy had run deep in his veins that day. Not only was Fëanor’s feeble smith work prized above his own, but he also had the bond of family guarding him, caring for him, loving him.

Illuvatar framed himself as the father of the Maia and Valar. But Illuvatar was a higher being. A being more unfathomable to him than the Valar were to mortal men. He had never felt loved by Eru. Only favored or, more often, unfavored. It was a cold relationship if it even existed at all. And the Valar’s complete ban on sexual relations between Maia only made matters worse. Marriages were only permitted upon approval. The Valar preferred for their servants to be available to them, not tending to their own families. Aulë, in particular, rarely allowed his acolytes to wed. It was a solemn existence driven by lonely, stoic devotion. Never building for himself, but only for the glory of a god who didn’t even recognize his personhood.

Morgoth reveled in fornication. He loved to assign who was to fuck whom. He particularly loved to breed new, unspeakable creatures. The Valar would have never guessed but Angband was filled to the brim with children. From orcs to dragons to werewolves, all servants of the Dark Lord spawned new generations of slaves. But Morgoth had never allowed a child to take root in any of Sauron’s partners. No, he would not allow such a child. Perhaps Morgoth was worried it would have inspired notions of grandeur in Sauron. More likely, he thought, it was Morgoth’s unrelenting fear of Luthien. Half-Maia. Half-Elf. Luthien was unlike any other creature in Arda. He certainly hadn’t expected her to be so powerful and neither had Morgoth. After the theft of the Silmarill, the Dark Lord performed his anger but in his heart, he became terrified of what the half-breeds could wreak upon him.

Now, after so many centuries of solitude, Halbrand had a family. A child and a woman who, though she wasn’t his wife, depended on him. The heavy burden of this new position weighed on him. He felt a drive to provide for them everything they needed or could ever want. He had told Galadriel he would make her a queen. No she-elf would have been so radiant in a crown of light. Nor any of them so deserving as she. And he would make their son a prince. They would never sleep in the dirt again. Nor would anyone dare whisper against them.

In his heart, he was tempted. It would be so easy. He wouldn’t even have to take the ring. He could guide Estion to do everything. It would be his kingdom, after all. The boy had already proved himself a natural magician. With him to guide Estion and Galadriel to temper them, they would rule Middle Earth with grace and dignity, ushering in a new age of peace and enlightenment.

Halbrand’s grip around Estion’s arm tightened and he swallowed hard. He wanted that future. He wanted his family to be safe and secure. He wanted them to have the high positions they so deserved. Halbrand released a shuddering breath. It was all he could do to stop the sob that threatened to ring out from his soul. He knew that future could never be. Galadriel had made that clear long ago. His constant quest for power was what frightened her the most. She would never allow their son to be pulled into any plot of his. Estion looked so much like him. Maybe there were other similarities between them. Maybe Estion was also susceptible to the sway of darkness. Maybe Galadriel was right to keep his terrible influence away from their son.

None of it mattered; Manwë would find him soon.

Estion had woken with the first light of dawn. He seemed startled at first like he didn’t remember where he was. But when they met eyes, Estion smiled and relaxed. He stretched and twisted. And then he was up and ready for the new day. He had an unrelenting spirit. The boy had been through so much hardship yet he was the most joyful and curious creature Halbrand had ever known. They spent much of the early morning watching a procession of ants carry food to their hill. Estion cheered them on and left them bits of his meager breakfast. When Halbrand gave the ants some of his own food, Estion gave him a smile that could have melted all the snow in the frozen north.

Halbrand wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth. To pull the boy into his embrace and say the words, “You are my son!” But he restrained himself. What for, he couldn’t say. Manwë would arrive at any moment and then he would never see Estion again. Yet, each time he looked at Galadriel, still asleep on the clearing floor, he knew he could not betray her. Not again. He would abide by her wishes even to his own doom.

Yet, now that she was awake, he doubted she would give him his heart’s desire.

Estion glanced between them, turning his head back and forth to study each of them. Eventually, he said, “I met him in the Greenwood. When… I used your ring.” With that, he pulled Nenya from his finger and placed it in Galadriel’s hand. As he did, it seemed to Halbrand that an imperceptible ringing ceased. Whatever unintentional magic Estion had used to guard the grove had ended. It sent a shiver through Halbrand and made him feel exposed.

Galadriel examined the ring before slipping it back onto her finger. “Yes, that’s right,” she murmured. “You’ve been playing with things that are not toys.”

“I know! I’m sorry!” Estion cried. “I didn’t mean to. I just put it on and it took me to the Greenwood and then I found Halbrand.”

Galadriel paused for a moment, clearly thinking through her words carefully. “And what did you talk about in the Greenwood?” She glanced back to Halbrand. She was trying to figure out how much Estion knew. Halbrand felt his cheeks warming into a blush. Just as he suspected, no trust remained between them.

“Mostly about Teonwer the cat,” Estion quickly replied, not picking up on Galadriel’s subtle tones. “And then Halbrand told me about being a Maia.”

Galadriel’s eyebrows raised in alarm. But before she could say anything, Estion cut in, “He’s a different Halbrand! I think the ring must have mixed them up. Because, when I put the ring on, I was thinking about how I wanted to find my father. But the ring brought me to this Halbrand instead.”

Halbrand didn’t know what to make of Estion’s words. A different Halbrand? Unless… He glanced back to Galadriel. Her cheeks burned bright red, and her eyes glistened with a sensation that he was all too familiar with: shame. And then the realization hit him. This stubborn elf had only told their son half of the truth! She told Estion that his father was a mortal man. To be fair, she had believed he was a mortal when Estion was conceived. But it did not erase her lie.

“I had no idea there were so many Halbrands walking Arda,” Halbrand laughed. “If I had known, perhaps I would have chosen a different name.”

Galadriel stiffened at his tone and pulled Estion close again. “You have many names,” she said harshly. “I believe Deciever is one.”

Halbrand set his jaw. She was testing him. Pushing him. Punishing him. She wanted him to snap, to shout, and show his anger. To show what he truly was. She wanted her worst suspicions confirmed so she could be done with him for good. She would have to try harder.

“The same could be said of you, Galadriel,” he murmured.

Galadriel lifted her chin and straightened her back. “What else was I to do?” She shot at him, “You left me with little choice.”

Halbrand took a heavy breath. He needed to release his pride or she would never forgive him. He looked to the heavens. Through all the long years of his solitude, he had come to believe that Eru had not abandoned him. That the light of the One may yet favor him again. He was not one for prayers but with his soul, he cried out for guidance. Then he looked at Estion. The boy’s face was turned into a frown, clearly perplexed by the conversation happening around him. He looked confused and unsure and perhaps a bit frightened. A mirror image of his mother.

Halbrand sighed, “Well, what do you choose now?”

Galadriel furrowed her brow. “What?”

“What do you choose now?” he repeated. “What do you wish me to do?”

Galadriel just stared at him. Her jaw opened and then shut again quickly, thinking better of whatever she nearly said.

“If you wish for me to leave now, I will,” Halbrand continued.

Still, she said nothing. She only stared at him with her piercing blue eyes. She may as well have been a witch for how her look enchanted him. He had forgotten what an astounding physical effect her eyes had on him.

“Tell me how you came to be here,” She demanded as she directed her burning gaze upon him. Estion too turned to him with a quizzical brow.

He cleared his throat again. By Eru, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been nervous. Yet, here he was, with his stomach churning and sweat dripping from his palms. “I uh… flew here.”

Galadriel frowned but Estion’s eyes lit up. “Maia can fly?” He asked with eagerness.

Halbrand couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. “Not without help,” he answered, “I met a Great Eagle a week ago.”

Estion gasped, “A Great Eagle?”

Halbrand nodded. He looked at Galadriel and saw her pursed lips and judgmental stare. She didn’t need to say anything. She didn’t believe him. “Galadriel?” he asked softly.

Her jaw tightened as he said her name. He instantly wished he had remained silent but there was no taking it back now. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that?” she asked with spite lacing each word.

Halbrand didn’t know how to respond. Of course, she had no right to trust him. The last time they spoke, he had nearly drowned her and left her for dead. He knew she wouldn’t die. He hadn’t ever wanted that. He had been hurt by her rejection and he reacted like a spoiled child. And then there was the matter of his deceit. His lie of omission. His careful words designed to make her believe he was mortal. Now, she would never believe any word that came out of his mouth and it was his own fault. He sighed, “No, I didn’t think you would even let me talk this much.”

The hard frown on her face softened slightly but didn’t relent. Estion’s face twisted into a mess of confusion. He glanced back and forth between them constantly as if he couldn’t decide whose reaction he was more interested in.

“I never intended to disturb you,” Halbrand continued, “Either of you. I only came because you were at death’s door. I couldn’t let that happen. Not when it was in my power to stop it.”

Galadriel nodded as she touched the wound on her shoulder. “So, what now?”

Halbrand furrowed his brow. “What now?”

“Yes,” Galadriel replied, clearly losing patience, “What now?”

“I, uh… I haven’t thought about it,” he muttered, cursing himself and his lack of foresight. It was completely unlike him to be unprepared. Yet, here he was, sounding like an idiot. Or worse, like he was trying to manipulate his way into their lives. He cleared his throat and said, “I wanted to ask, why are you on the run? What happened?”

Galadriel took a breath to steady herself. She took her time, calculating her words carefully. Finally, she replied, “Gil-Galad knows who you truly are.”

Halbrand furrowed his brow. Why would that affect them? Unless… He glanced at Estion again, taking in the truly striking resemblance between them: high cheekbones, light brown hair falling in gentle curls, and those unusual green eyes. The horrible realization hit him in the chest like a hammer. “Gil-Galad persecutes you… because I… because of me?” he asked.

Galadriel nodded solemnly.

Anger filled him. A seething, white-hot rage simmered just below the surface of his skin. The only thing keeping it contained was his desperate need to show Galadriel how much he had changed. Neither she nor Estion deserved to experience his anger. He wouldn’t allow his short temper to come between them again. He swallowed his anger, forcing it down. But he wouldn’t let it go. He would save it for when he met Gil-Galad face to face.

So far, Galadriel seemed intent not to mention the family ties that bound the three of them together. He couldn’t blame her. Her priority was protecting Estion, as was his. But now, having to dance around the subject was more than he could bear.

The whole time, Estion rested his head against his mother’s shoulder and studied Halbrand. It was like the boy could see past his skin and peer at his soul. Halbrand wondered what the boy saw. What lay beneath? Was it anything worthwhile? Anything that could be saved? Someone worth saving? Someone who could be a good father?

Silence settled again with only the babbling of the stream and birds chirping to break it until Teonwer started screeching from the bushes. Halbrand had nearly forgotten the cat. He had been so focused on Estion and Galadriel, that he hadn’t given a thought to his other companion at all.

In an instant, the blurred form of Teonwer emerged from the undergrowth. And with him, was another cat with white fur. They tumbled out into the daylight, hissing and clawing at the other. It was a fierce battle. The other cat tried to run back to the tree line but Teonwer pounced and pinned him down. The other cat let out a mournful yowl.

“Teonwer!” Halbrand shouted to his friend.

Teonwer looked up with a viciousness Halbrand had never seen before. Teonwer meowed aggressively.

“What do you mean ‘an enemy?’” He asked.

Before Teonwer could reply, Estion said, “That’s Ruorul! He’s Gil-Galad’s cat.”

Halbrand raised his brow, “I see.” He leaned over and picked up Ruorul by the scruff of his neck. Ruorul yowled and tried to shake himself free from Halbrand’s grip. “We can’t have any servant of Gil-Galad running free in our midst,” Halbrand said.

“Don’t hurt him!” Estion exclaimed. The boy jumped to his feet, grabbed Ruorul, and held him tightly. Instantly, Ruorul calmed and turned into the gentlest creature in all of Arda. He tucked his head against Estion’s shoulder and meowed pathetically.

Teonwer meowed three times quite seriously. Halbrand shooshed him. This was no time for Teonwer’s petty dispute with another feline.

“What is he saying?” Galadriel asked.

Halbrand was momentarily stunned that Galadriel trusted him enough to interpret but he cleared his throat and replied, “He says that Ruorul cannot be trusted.”

Teonwer meowed three more times, continuing his earlier complaint.

Halbrand interpreted, “He says, Ruorul was trying to alert Gil-Galad’s men.”

Galadriel instantly became alarmed, “Are they near?”

Teonwer meowed once.

Halbrand’s heart dropped into his stomach. “He says, yes,” Halbrand confirmed. He swallowed hard. If Teonwer was correct, then they were all in grave danger.

Ruorul hissed venemously at Tenower.

“Stop it!” Estion told Ruorul firmly.

Ruorul turned to Estion and hissed again. He lashed out with his claws extended and swiped at Estion’s face, leaving a scratch on his chin.

Estion yelped and dropped Ruorul. The cat ran into the trees at lightning speed. Tenower made to chase him down but Halbrand stopped him. “Let him go, Tenower. The damage is done.”

“What did he say?” Galadriel asked again, fear growing in her eyes.

Halbrand didn’t dare waste time and told her bluntly, “Ruorul did alert Gil-Galad’s men. They will be here any moment.”

Galadriel gazed at him with a frightening intensity. “We are not safe here,” she said softly.

Halbrand nodded. “We need to leave.” He glanced around the clearing. They had only one horse. Galadriel and Estion could ride but he would have to walk or run if need be. “Estion,” he called to the boy, “Go to the stream and fill the water skins. We must hurry!” Estion nodded and raced to the stream.

Halbrand turned to Galadriel, “Can you ride?”

“If I must,” Galadriel murmured. She started to stand but lost her footing and slipped back to the ground. Halbrand leaned forward and offered her his hand. She looked at his hand and then at his eyes. “You truly love him, don’t you?”

Halbrand’s heart stuttered. “How could I not?” he asked in turn.

With a nod, Galadriel took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. She looked up at him, her hand still in his. Her lips nearly turned up into a smile as she looked upon him. He could see the fondness she still felt for him as well as the gratefulness for what he had done. She opened her mouth to speak but her eyes suddenly glanced to the trees. And then he heard the sound of a dozen swords being drawn.

Notes:

Hey all!! I'm back with another cliffhanger!

I was struggling with this chapter for months because I just couldn't decide how I wanted this to go down. Eventually, I got most of it down but I was still unsure of where to take Halbrand's mental state. Fortunately, the new season has revived me and made me remember what I find so compelling about his character: his struggle of wanting to be loved but also craving power and control. I hope you enjoyed the temptation sequence as much as I did!

I felt like I was getting a little too ooc with him in some previous chapters and I wanted to get back to basics: struggle, temptation, heartache, yerning, angst, etc. You know, the shit we are all here for!

As always, this fic is open to criticism of the literary variety. And all comments are encouraged! I love hearing from all of you! It really makes my day to know that y'all enjoy my little story.

[shady-swan-jones]

Alternative timeline

Elf-lover by mildthemes

Remember Me Like This by shady-swan-jones

Another Tale of Darkness Indeed by Hopeful_Foolx

This Fate Bound Throne by callitagift

Salt of the Sea and Iron Smoke by @poopsiekitten

Reforged in the Making by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks)

Bound to His Being by ChapterEight

A Deal with the Devil by Iblametumblrformyproblems

Poison & Wine by @coraleethroughthelookingglass

Human Halband

what makes night within us may leave stars by essaupe

These Hands are Rated E for Everyone by NumquamCedam

The Best Laid Plans by @ichabodjane

The Adventures of the Low Man by @ichabodjane and @somebirdortheother

Heal What Could Be Hurt by NumquamCedam

But listen carefully to the sound of your loneliness, like a heartbeat, drives you mad by coraleethroughthelookingglass

Impulse Control by NumquamCedam

I Met the King of the Southlands Once (AND ALMOST DIED) by NumquamCedam

Back Into the Furnace by BetoWrites

I Could Get Used to This by orphan_account

Keeping Watch by @name1name1

Post s1

Know My Name As It's Called Again by @deceivedcomet

A Lord and his Builder by @90shaladriel

Lavage by kimsey

Binding by CartaEscarlate

Beautiful Lies by Ottertale

Queen of Night and Stars by @90shaladriel

King of The Southlands

The White Queen by LadyRosalune

Queen of the Southlands by FormerlyIR (Irony_Rocks)

Unsired by @shady-swan-jones

Shake Like the Bough of a Willow Tree and First Impressions by @myfavouritelunatic

Numenor

consolations of the flesh by framboise

All It Takes To Bind You by @shady-swan-jones

cry of the mourning petrel, tooth of the sea by @rain-sleet-snow

kalopsia by properhaunt

to call dark deeds good by prettybrilliantfunny

banquets have burned for you by @conundrumoftime

Adrift by bartagnans

The Souvenir by @somebirdortheother

A Curious Case of the Cart Trying to Push the Horse by orphan_account

What Happens in Numenor by @youwearfinethingswellwriter

Hands on You by @lisenberry

A Beacon Of Stars by @jhalya

Lady of the Seas by @conundrumoftime

i cannot heave my heart into my mouth by fallofrain

Slice of Paradise by @scriberated

Perfection by @nenyabusiness

All We Are, Flood Damage In The Dark by @klynnvakarian

Season 2

Splashes of colour on shades of grey by @mirroringdust

mitosis by @orcas86

the too plentiful light by @thefudge

More Painful Sacrifices by myfavouritelunatic

Until the Dawn Comes by @scribblecat27

light of the Two Trees by dxrklina

Primal Play by thenagil

destitute of the light he once craved by @mirroringdust

That all encompassing feeling by @naldoreth

and laid her soiled gloves by by @mortaltempless

A Goodbye by @youwearfinethingswellwriter

the labyrinth that binds us by eastwynds

Teeth by pinkishtea

A door, once opened by @maeday1551

I put a spell on you by @sixofwaffles

Darkness Bound by no_more_doubt

Stars & Shadows by @nowforruin

if that is to be the way of things by @hazelmaines

Epic Adventures (50k+)

A tragic age by @stitchingatthecircuitboard

The Trials of Mairon by bynightmylove

That Which Lies Across the Sea by @theriverwild

I could be your king by @cliffdivingsblog

Shadow-Bride by @conundrumoftime

In Case of Defeat, Break Glass by eastwynds

The Venus of Valinor by @thecoziestbean

Instruments of Salvation by @scriberated

The Lesser of Two Evils by @thrillofhope

Across That Fine Line by @myrsinemezzo

Beautiful Creature of Darkness by @pursuitseternal

Rainbow of Chaos by yletylyf

Litost and Beasts of the Hill and Serpents of the Den by @demonscantgothere

Special fics

the nameless by bimmyou

Half Moon by vuas

The Mirror and the Palantír by @oroniel

Dubcon/dead dove

Hérincë by  @mzladybird

those who eat, those who are eaten by thehoneydoll

Until the Dawn Comes by Scriberated 

Trespassers Beware and Lord of the Werewolves by @pursuitseternal

Part 2 - Modern AU, Explicit & Bonus (coming soon)

[keferon]

“Mistakes on mistakes until” ch 69 spoilers below!

Ahahahahahahah here I go again

Mistakes on mistakes until until I can draw Jazz with my eyes closed

I woke up, checked my phone, woke up for real and decided that whatever plans I had for this day yeah no they can wait a little bit kfkgnfk

Also. Consider listening this while reading. Or don't who am I to tell you what to do~

[fawningbruises]

To see their light, reflected in your eyes.

[5ummit]

I promise you, when Middle-Earth is healed and its people see what you and I did here, all our sufferings will be worth it. Our sufferings?

[ylieke]

"And Melkor entered his realm. And the Dark bowed before its Lord, and came apart in the light of Silmarilli. The creatures of the night prostrated themselves on the ground in hopes that they would be spared and his heavy gaze wouldn’t fall on them. Sauron bowed low, pinned down by the terror that like a cape was draped over the Fallen Vala. He relinquished all the power he held in his absence and laid it for him, as a servant must." An illistraion for the "Play with fire" fanfic by @eternal-fear

[dracowars]

angel | annatar

pairing: annatar x elf!reader

word count: 3,1k

summary: where annatar fails to protect what is most precious to him

a/n: this man has me in a chokehold, writing for him is so much fun!! thank you for all the love and support on my first annatar one shot, i'm so excited to write more for him in the future. i hope you enjoy this one as well and ily all <3

warnings: angst, manipulation, violence, mentions of blood, mentions of severe injuries, mentions of death, character death

universe: the rings of power

You breathe in relief when you finally reach a clearing, the fresh air blowing through your hair, the sun high in the sky warming your face. Breathing heavily and holding on to the stones at the exit of the cave tunnel you just stumbled through, you leave the protective walls behind you with a few more steps. Your gaze wanders over Eregion, immediately diminishing the short spark of joy you felt. The beautiful city, your home, lies in ruins. Most of the buildings have crumbled or burned beyond recognition and even from up here you can hear the roar of the numerous orcs invading the city. The sun, which brightens yet another day, does nothing to cheer you up. It is merely a reminder of what you have lost in the last few horrifying hours. The night may be over, but the battle is not.

You take a moment to take in the disaster, but hiss when you suddenly feel a stabbing pain in your abdomen. The climb up here has cost you an enormous amount of strength and you can't even formulate a coherent thought anymore. You look down at yourself, your precious dress dirty and torn. Trembling, you remove your hand from the wound on your stomach, where an arrow had pierced your flesh just a few moments ago. You broke it off in agony and tried to stop the blood with your hand, but you continue to lose blood, causing you to stagger a little.

You are not a fighter, you are a simple elf and resident of Eregion. Never in your eternal life would you have expected to see Eregion fall. And its Lord with it.

Celebrimbor has been entirely dedicated to the creation of the Rings of Power. For the past few weeks he has been left in solitude to end what he started. You gave him the time and space he needed. And prayed that he finishes his work before it finishes him, as Lord Annatar put it. But what did all these precautions ultimately lead to? You stood there, watching your only home get destroyed. You stood there, watching your best friend fall to her death by the hand of Celebrimbor. You stood there and let him accuse Annatar of the most atrocious deeds.

Annatar, who sacrificed so much for him, for this city. Annatar, who always helped everyone in need, who did not shy away from standing up against the Lord of Eregion or fighting for the well-being of the elves.

Annatar, who captured your heart.

Which is why you find yourself on top of a mountain right now and not in the middle of a fight for life or death. Celebrimbor's mind is gone. And the proof lies right in front of you, your beautiful, breathtaking Eregion - nothing more than rubble and ashes.

All you knew is that you had to follow him.

'Stay', Annatar told you with his beautiful shining eyes in which you discovered the stars. 'You are safe here.'

You nodded. And still followed him.

And now you understand why you should have listened to him. As you turn around and look into the forest that is at the top of the mountain, you see him standing there, his sword drawn. But he is not alone. At first you thought that your eyes were playing tricks on you, that the heavy loss of blood was confusing your thoughts, causing you to hallucinate, but you actually see Galadriel standing opposite him.

Not only that, they are also surrounded by orcs who are just waiting for the order to attack. An order from none other than Adar, who is slowly walking towards Annatar now as well, with his weapon drawn.

"No", you gasp under your breath, stumbling your way toward them. You take one painful step after the other. They haven't noticed you yet, the trees covering you protectively. Breathing heavily, you lean against a broad trunk, a few steps already exhausting your weak body, Annatar's words wafting over to you more and more clearly the closer you get. You swallow hard, but as you want to turn to them, your gaze is caught by an orc lying dead on the ground, his blade capturing the sunlight breaking through the treetops.

Carefully, you approach the creature and grab its weapon in a swift movement. The handle of the sword feels heavy in your hands and you would rather drop it immediately. But you have to somehow make sure that you can defend yourself if necessary. Once again, you breathe in and move on.

Galadriel and Adar are facing Annatar together now, apparently coming to a silent agreement to focus their attention on Annatar for the time being. Once you realize this betrayal, your weakend heart beats faster. Because how can Galadriel of the Ñoldor, daughter of the Golden House of Finarfin, Commander of the Northern Armies of High King Gil-galad, side with this monster? With the man who is responsible for numerous deaths, for the destruction of Eregion? Whose orcs are currently ravaging an entire city, dividing families and carrying elven souls on their conscience.

Blinking your tears away that well up in your eyes at the thought and sight of it, you try to steady your steps. When you were just a little elf, you looked up to Galadriel, but now you don't recognize her anymore, from the stories you were once told. The only thing that calms you down a little is the fact that Annatar doesn't seem surprised by this turn of events at all. He stands there, his dark armour swallowing the rays of sunshine, his sword lying loosely in his hand. If you didn't know better, you imagine that you can even see a mischievous, knowing smile on his lips from the distance.

In a high arc, Galadriel swings her sword at Annatar and thus opens the fight. Annatar, however, dodges the attack skillfully, making it look like it was not even remotely dangerous for him. In contrast, Galadriel has to parry his blows with great effort. You didn't know that Annatar was such a good fighter, but it seems like he always has a trick up his sleeve.

Even when Adar joins the fight and Annatar now has to dodge two life threatening blades, he is not challenged at all. Although you wonder how long he can keep this up. No matter how good of a fighter he is, immortal or not, the odds are clearly against him. That is why you look around for help, searching for something that could potentially aid him in this battle. However, all you see is a lot of orcs standing at the other end of the clearing, idly watching the spectacle. Fearing that they might spot you, you step back in order to be hidden from their view by the thick trunk of a tree. Or so you hope.

As you move, a branch cracks under your boots. The sound is barely audible, but Annatar's gaze meets yours in an instant and his eyes widen almost imperceptibly. It only takes that one split-second glance for him to discover that you are badly injured. That you are bleeding. And that you have disobeyed his words, his direct order.

Although he is only distracted for a tiny second, Galadriel takes this chance and strikes, hitting Annatar's face with the tip of her sword, which inevitably makes you gasp aloud in shock. Now Galadriel and Adar definitely noted your presence, the orcs as well, but you can only watch in silence as a tiny droplet of blood runs from the cut on Annatar's cheek.

"Leave! This is not your fight", Galadriel calls over to you, breathing heavily, her face and golden hair dirty. Her expression screams at you to go. Adar, on the other hand, looks at you with pity. And Annatar looks like he is about to burn the whole world down. In one swift move, he attacks Galadriel again, unable to believe that she has actually shed his blood.

You are forced to tear your eyes away from the fight, however, when you suddenly hear snarling and footsteps on the leaf-covered ground to your left. Your presence on top of the mountain seems to have peaked the orcs' interest.

Sharp pain shoots through your entire body as you lean your back against the tree trunk in order to hide your body from their view. You close your eyes to be able to discern their sounds better, breathing heavily. Gripping the hilt of the sword tightly with both hands, pressing it against your breasts with the blade pointing towards the ground, you stand there completely motionless. At least you try to, but the sword almost slips from your hands, your palms slick with your own blood, making it all the more difficult to hold on to. Your breathing is still louder and faster than you wish and you know that the creatures can smell your blood from miles away anyway.

They talk to each other as they get closer to you, completely ignoring their father's fight in the promising prospect of prey. When they are about to reach the tree behind which you are hiding, a command rings out through the thicket and the orcs look to its source and so do you. Before you can even realize what is happening, however, a blade suddenly pierces through Adar's upper body, causing the orcs to roar loudly. In an instant, they all charge towards the two figures that are still standing, Annatar's sword stained with black blood. To your surprise, not all of the orcs attack their father's murderer; some of them suddenly stab Adar, who has collapsed on the ground, with their own weapons.

They stab him again and again, black blood splattering everywhere. Bile rises in your throat, which you quickly swallow as you turn away from the horrifying sight.

When you hear your name across the clearing, however, you spot Annatar, who comes running towards you, the momentary chaos apparently enabling him to escape from the action as he reaches his hand out to you.

"You need to leave. Now", he orders, but you just shake your head with tear-filled eyes, which earns you a stoic but compassionate and sad look from him. He opens his mouth to reply, but doesn't get the chance when you suddenly see an orc charging towards you. With all your strength, you push Annatar away from you, so that the orc's axe lands in the tree trunk between the two of you. The sudden movement makes you dizzy and you almost fall to the ground if Annatar didn't grab your upper arm in the last second and pulled you up against him. The orc, now dead by his blade, lies to your feet.

The battlefield that stretches out before you is terrible: Adar's lifeless, blood-soaked body lies on the ground, Galadriel has to defend herself against some orcs, but the majority of them are attacking each other, apparently not agreeing on which orders they should follow now that Adar is dead. Some of them come towards you as well, not understanding their dead brother's warning. Annatar quickly grabs your hand and walks ahead, his body serving as a protective shield for you.

If you can't protect yourself, he will have to.

Together you fight your way through the charging orcs, whom Annatar defeats without much effort, so that you find yourself facing Galadriel again. She stands in front of you, dead orcs to her feet, one hand on her hip as she is obviously quite out of breath. When she spots you behind Annatar's back, her eyes widen.

"You're on the wrong side", she whispers through clenched teeth and slowly moves to the right, as if she wants to circle her prey. Annatar squeezes your hand briefly and then lets go so that he can fully concentrate on the fight in front of him. Before that, however, he signals you to move a little farther away, which you do immediately.

"Where are the rings?", he asks her, keeping a close eye on her, waiting for her next move. Meanwhile, you are struggling to ignore how the remaining orcs behind them are still fighting each other to death.

Instead of answering him, Galadriel sprints towards him with a battle cry and their swords meet several times. The force behind it causes Annatar to stumble a few steps backwards, towards you. Your vision is now so blurred, the pain running through your whole body so numbing, that you hardly notice it. You only vaguely perceive Annatar moving on to the next attack. Exhausted, you squeeze your eyes shut in the hope that the fog will clear from your vision. But it is to no avail. Everything is still blurry.

What you do see, however, is a small pouch lying next to the spot where Galadriel and Annatar are currently fighting. Narrowing your eyes, you try to discern what it could be, until Annatar's previous words come to your mind.

The rings. Galadriel must have lost them in the fight without noticing.

Making up your mind, you stumble a few weak, trembling steps towards it, away from the seemingly endless fight. When you reach the small pouch, you fall to your knees and carefully take it in your shaking hands. When you peak inside, several beautiful rings shine at you, enveloping you in their spell for a moment.

A moment it takes for an orc to stand in front of you with his raised blade after spotting you with the rings. A moment in which you can only raise your head and look the beast in the eye. Then his blood splatters everywhere, covering you in it, when his head is suddenly separated from the rest of his body with a clean cut. He would have ended your life here and now. You let out a frightened scream and frantically scramble to stand up when you feel a gentle touch on your arm. Looking deep into Annatar's eyes, you try to thank him for saving your life once again, but your vocal cords are not able to form any coherent words.

Then, everything happens very quickly. Out of the corner of your eye you see Galadriel rushing towards the two of you, her sword drawn. As if time moves very slowly, your gaze wanders to the man in front of you, who is unaware of the impending danger. Because his focus was on you, on protecting you. Without thinking twice, you tug on his arm, pulling him in your direction, and walk towards Galadriel yourself, throwing your beaten body between them.

You exhale in shock as her sword pierces right through your middle.

"NO!", you hear Annatar cry out loudly, anger and sadness mingling in his voice which breaks at the end. Galadriel, who is just as shocked as you are, stands in front of you with tears in her eyes. Her hand around her sword is trembling.

"I- I-", she stammers, but doesn't get much further as Annatar pushes her away with so much force that she flies through the air. She hits the ground and remains there, motionless. Gasping for breath, you fall to the ground as well, no longer able to hold yourself upright. Involuntarily, your hand goes to where the sword is still sticking out of you.

It hurts. It hurts so much that you can't even shed a tear, your breath catching in your throat. Black dots appear in your vision, covering the blue sky like stars. But then Annatar's face appears in front of you and they suddenly disappear.

"Stay with me. You hear me? Don't go", he shouts at you as he kneels next to you and bends over your fragile body, gently lifting you so that he can place your head on his lap. "No, no, no", he whispers quietly to himself, his hand wandering over your upper body without touching it, as if he could only do more damage otherwise.

You can't do anything but lie there, your throat too dry to choke out another word. The sun shining from behind Annatar's head makes him look like an angel, bringing a gentle smile to your chapped lips. With a trembling hand you lift the little pouch, which you still had in a firm grip, up to him.

Annatar's eyes widen and as soon as he feels the rings in his hand, he discards them. He feels your willpower leaving. Desperate for help, he looks around, thinking about how he could help you, how he could save you. But Galadriel is gone, with her one of the elven rings which might have given you a slim chance of survival. And he can't use the Nine because he personally made sure that they were corrupted.

"Why would you do that?", he asks you now, sounding so defeated, not understanding how you could give your life for his so thoughtlessly. If only you had known that he is not easy to kill, that his immortality cannot be threatened by a simple sword.

And yet here you are, on your way to the Halls of Mandos in Valinor.

"You can't leave me", Annatar says almost reproachfully, his hand gently stroking your still soft hair. His eyes, which look deep into yours, are getting glassier each moment. He simply can't accept that you are leaving him now, that you are leaving him alone, the only person who ever truly cared for him. Who made his cold heart of stone a little warmer, a little softer.

You were supposed to be his. His and only his forever.

"Leithio nin¹", your weak voice whispers in Sindarin, your hand searching for his and finally enveloping it on top of your slow beating heart. You tell him to release you, to release you from this pain, and yet he can't fathom how he should ever be able to let you go.

"I will bring you back. We will meet again, I will make sure of that. I promise. Even if I have to burn down the whole of Middle-earth just to see you again", he says, giving you one last promise which you consider with a small smile, your eyes heavy. You look at him closely one more time, to memorize his face for eternity, your trembling hand reaching for him. Before you can touch him one last time, feel his soft skin beneath your fingertips, your eyes close forever.

"Gi melin²", Annatar sobs, the words following you along on your journey before your last breath finally leaves you and your body goes limp in his arms. He puts his forehead against yours, pulling you as close to him as possible, rocking you, and a single tear finds its way down his cheek.

After just a few seconds, the sadness inside him mixes with anger. With unrelenting, burning anger. He will make everyone suffer for his loss.

He meant every word he said. He will bring you back, no matter what it takes.

And the One Ring will help him.

¹ Release me

² I love you

[pursuitseternal]

“𝕭𝖊𝖆𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖚𝖑 𝕮𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝕯𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖘”

First Age Sauron/Galadriel, Phantom of the Opera/ Gothic Romance AU

First Age Sauron x Galadriel | E | 58K Complete

Summary: Inspired by “The Phantom of the Opera…” Galadriel lives a life very different from her days as Commander, now in the court of her brother Finrod, a survivor of the lupine horrors her endured with Beren. Finrod is now an Elven king in the new realm founded on the ruins of Dol Guldur. The evil is gone, or so they think. Rumors of a Phantom in the wood begin to surface, as he sabotages and steals… and seduces.

CW:Masquerades, forge sex, Vampire form sex, Annatar form, Celeborn as Roaul, Finrod with PTSD, Morgoth returns, Major character death with a glimmer of hope at the end.

Tolkien Fic Masterlist

[fannyspammy]

I neeeeed an Isildur x Reader x Halbrand love triangle fic rnnnn 😭😭😭

[storiesaplenty]

Coercion (pt. 2) ~ (18+)

Annatar (Sauron) x gn/Reader

The Rings of Power Masterlist

Part 1

This has not been proofread. Please enjoy though.

Warnings: Smut under the cut. Unprotected sex. Abuse of power. Sexual Coercion. No use of protection. Creampie

WC: 783

©️ storiesaplenty 2024: do not repost or translate my work. This is the only place I post my work.

Summary: Annatar calls for his favourite elf once more, needing more help, but this time in 'sending a message to the Valor.'

My time here was coming to an end.

Soon, they will all know who I am.

But I had one final task, that I needed to complete.

After that happened between them and I, I knew I had to have them one last time.

So I called them to my bedchamber once more.

They were eager to please as they sat across from me, their hands clasped in front of them, on their lap.

"I need your help once more." I told them.

"I will do whatever you need me to do, my Lord."

I smiled gently at them, having them exactly where I want them.

"I know you will. That is why I called for you once more, but this time I need to send a message to the Valor, and I can not do it on my own."

"Shall I be in the same position I was in before my Lord?"

I had to hold back a moan as that image flashed in my mind. My cock twitched beneath my fabric, ready to use them once more.

"This time, it will be something different. I need you to trust me."

"I do, Lord Annatar." They seemed to sit up straighter.

"If you do then I need you to follow all of my commands without question."

"I am here for whatever you need my Lord."

"Good." I stood up, walked towards them and held out my hand for them to take. They placed their hand in mine, and I helped them stand.

"Now listen to me carefully so I can send the message to Valor."

My hands were running up and down their back as I tried to sooth them.

"You must relax." I could feel that they were trying to relax as I placed my cock at their hole.

I didn't blindfold them this time, but I did have them facing away from me.

"Good. Now this part may hurt just a bit." I said as I pushed the tip in.

I could hear them let out a whimper of pain, as I bit my bottom lip to keep from moaning out loud.

I pushed inch by agonising inch inside their body. Their hole stretching to accommodate me as best as it could.

Once I was flushed against their bottom, I told them how well they did for me.

That I can now send a message to the Valor.

"Now I will have to move just a bit to speed it up, but no fret little one, this won't take long."

It wouldn't, not with how they are tightening up around my cock.

I pulled back slowly, and gently thrust back in, listening for any discomfort.

I wanted them at my mercy for as long as I could have them before they realise who I am.

"The speed of which I need to send the message will change. Just need you not to move and it will be all okay."

"Yes my Lord." They cried out as I started to thrust into them a bit harser.

I tried to keep my noises to myself, but when I heard them cry out my name, I couldn't hold back any longer.

I let out a lewd moan that I was holding in.

"Almost finished." I told them as I sped up my pace.

Sounds of skin hitting skin could be heard in the room.

The noises falling from their lips had me wishing I could pull out and cum down their throat once more, but this time, I wanted to finish in them as I claimed their body for mine.

"Lord Annatar, I feel funny." They whined, placing their head in their hands.

"Do not mind it. Let it happen." I grunted.

I closed my eyes as my teeth clenched as their hole started to flutter around my cock.

They came probably for the first time in their life and that had me bucking my hips one last time before I stilled.

I shouted out "VALOR." to make it seem like I was sending a message as I filled their still fluttering hole with my cum.

"You did well once again." I finally said as I pulled out of them.

I watched as my cum leaked out of them slowly.

"Now, this was just between us. Remember that." I told them as they slowly got off my bed.

"Yes Lord Annatar."

The both of us got dressed, they were silent and I paid them no mind.

As they reached the door to leave, they turned back to me.

"If you need anymore help Lord Annatar, please know that I am always here."

A soft smile came over my face.

"I will. Thank you."

[honeyfarts666]

Halbrand’s Garden - Hidden somewhere in the Greenwood

A moodboard I made for the latest chapter of An Ocean of Tears. All vibes for Redeemed!SauronAU included.

Read the fic on Ao3

[sauronxgaladriel]

Haladriel Library

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Smut

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