#THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TREAT WITH SAURON

[celebrimborium]

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

Someone asked me to expand a little on a topic that was buried down in a big chain of reblogs, so I'm doing that here--it's about the use of the archaic "thee", "thou", "thy", etc. in LOTR and what it tells you about characters’ feelings for one another. (I am NOT an expert on this, so it's just what I've picked up over time!)

Like many (most?) modern English speakers, I grew up thinking of those old forms of 2nd person address as being extra formal. I think that's because my main exposure to them was in the Bible ("thou shall not...") and why wouldn't god, speaking as the ultimate authority, be using the most formal, official voice? But it turns out that for a huge chunk of the history of the English language, "thee," "thou," and "thy" were actually the informal/casual alternatives to the formal "you", “your”, “yours”. Like tú v. usted in Spanish!

With that in mind, Tolkien was very intentional about when he peppered in a "thee" or a "thou" in his dialogue. It only happens a handful of times. Most of those are when a jerk is trying to make clear that someone else is beneath them by treating them informally. Denethor "thou"s Gandalf when he’s pissed at him. The Witch King calls Éowyn "thee" to cut her down verbally before he cuts her down physically. And the Mouth of Sauron calls Aragorn and Gandalf "thou" as a way to show them that he has the upper hand. (Big oops by all 3 of these guys!)

The other times are the opposite--it's when someone starts to use the informal/casual form as a way to show their feeling of affection for someone else. Galadriel goes with the formal "you" all through the company's days in Lórien, but by the time they leave she has really taken them to heart. So when she sends them a message via Gandalf early in the Two Towers, she uses "thee" and "thou" in her words to Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli because now they're valued friends and allies. And--this is the big one, folks, that was already alluded to in my previous post--Éowyn starts aggressively "thou"ing Aragorn when she is begging him to take her along as he prepares to ride out of Dunharrow. She is very intentionally trying to communicate her feelings to him in her choice of pronoun--an "I wouldn't be calling you "thee" if I didn't love you" kind of thing. And he is just as intentionally using "you" in every single one of his responses in order to gently establish a boundary with her without having to state outright that he doesn't reciprocate her feelings. It's not until much later when her engagement to Faramir is announced that Aragorn finally busts out "I have wished thee joy ever since I first saw thee". Because now it is safe to acknowledge a relationship of closeness and familiarity with her without the risk that it will be misinterpreted. He absolutely wants to have that close, familiar relationship, but he saved it for when he knew she could accept it on his terms without getting hurt.

So, you know, like all things language-based...Tolkien made very purposeful decisions in his word choices down to a bonkers level of detail. I didn’t know about this pronoun thing until I was a whole ass adult, but that’s the joy of dealing with Tolkien. I still discover new things like this almost every time I re-read.

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Perfect illusion (Sauron x Celebrimbor’s daughter!reader)

-> in which you have to sit by your father’s side as Sauron coerces him into finishing the Nine, realizing just how blind you have been all along

Warnings: No romance, just angst. You marry Annatar (+ implied smut) when you don’t know he’s Sauron, so there’s all the emotional torment and consent issues that come with that. Uncomfortable touching (not smut) after you find out he’s Sauron. Manipulation, mind control and victim blaming as per canon

You sit in your chair, watching your father work. A familiar thing, which you have done a million times before. Before, however, there had never been a shackle around his wrist, or blood marring his brow. There had never been rubble scattered about the workplace, or the sound of battle coming through the window. Before, there had never been The Dark Lord standing behind you, his hands weighing you down as though the ceiling had collapsed upon you.

That is not to say that they are forceful. No, his touch is soft, as it has always been, his fingers brushing your hair gently, almost absent-mindedly. At times they reach your neck or your cheek, grazing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. You dig your nails painfully into your own hands to keep from trembling. It’s the least, even if the most inconsequential thing, that you can still do—to deny him this small satisfaction.

“Stop that,” Sauron says, his voice deceivingly gentle as he gives your shoulder a warning squeeze. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Of course, that only makes you want to clench your fists harder. But you force yourself to open them, mindful of what might happen if you disobey.

“You once took comfort in my touch,” he says. If you knew no better, you’d believe the sorrow in his voice is genuine. “It is only comfort I wish to give you now as well.”

His knuckles brush your cheek, painfully tender and excruciatingly familiar. Though you’ve been trying to keep as still as possible, you cannot help but turn your face away, if only just an inch.

His hand stills mid-air, then returns to your shoulder. He takes a breath, quiet but long and deep.

“I have caused you suffering. That is true,” he admits, patiently. “But I assure you that this too shall pass. Once Middle-Earth is healed, and the people will see what we did here... your feelings will change.”

You can’t help how your breath quickens, chest trembling with anger. It only becomes worse when Sauron puts his fingers to your chin, coaxing you to twist your neck and look up into his piercing eyes. “You must know it pains me,” he says, “treating you like—”

“Like you have treated countless others?” your father intercedes in haste.

Sauron’s attention turns to Celebrimbor then, as your father had no doubt hoped it would. The whole time he’d been working, his eyes kept straying to you, as if to make sure you are still alive and whole. To your relief, Sauron removes his hand from your face. To your dread, he is now moving towards Celebrimbor, displeased with his remark.

“Like Morgoth treated me,” he corrects, hovering over your father.

You are not bound. You could, in theory, try to run. But you are not foolish enough to believe you could escape. Any such attempt would only earn you a shackle of your own, similar to your father’s. Though, you’re starting to believe that the cold bite of metal might just be more bearable than the silent imprisonment of your husband’s touch.

Your husband. The word twists in your stomach, carves holes into your heart. It all came so naturally to you when you spoke the vows and sealed the bond. Now, you can’t imagine how you got here. All you know are the facts of what happened, and even those no longer seem to make sense in your weakened mind.

You know who you used to be, when the world still made sense: daughter of Celebrimbor, the greatest of Elven smiths. You think his talents mixed with your mother’s magic may have resulted in your gift to manipulate materials in particular ways which do not necessarily come naturally. You know the mithril had refused to be coaxed into joining with the other metals without your intervention. You know Halbrand had been the one to suggest that you try it.

You know how easily he had endeared himself to you from the moment you met, and how confusing and sharp the pain had been when he disappeared without a trace. You know how quick you had been to let him into Eregion when he returned, despite Galadriel’s inexplicable request that you refrain from doing so.

You know the transition from Halbrand to Annatar had been unexpected, if not jarring, but in the end the pull you felt towards him was unchanged. You know there were touches, desire... trust.

You no longer know why. Because there never was a reason—not a true one, anyway. Only his deception, his mind games. But at the time, you didn’t know. At the time, it had made perfect sense when, one night, you had found yourself at the dining table, anxious about giving your father the news of what had happened a mere few hours prior.

Annatar was to your side, sitting at the head of the long table, while your father was across from you. He may be the Lord of Eregion, but he had insisted that an emissary of the Valar should take the most important seat. Yet despite your father’s deep admiration for Annatar, you were not sure how he would react.

“As you know,” you began tentatively, “Lord Annatar has been a close and trusted friend to me, these past few weeks. As he has been to you.”

“Indeed,” your father nodded. His unsure smile and knitted brow told you he was at a loss for what you were leading up to. You opened your mouth, but found yourself quite tongue-tied. You glanced at Annatar, who graciously took over.

“However,” he continued, lips forming a gentle, almost bashful smile, “after a time, we found that there were... deeper feelings between us.”

Though he was speaking to Celebrimbor, his gaze sought yours. You met it, heart fluttering as he wrapped your hand in his, resting them on the table in such a way that the new ring on your finger was in your father’s line of sight.

“Annatar has proposed marriage, father,” you finally say, turning to him. “And I have accepted.”

Your father blinked, eyebrows lifting in an expression of wordless surprise. When words failed to leave his mouth, Annatar took it upon himself to break the silence once more.

“My friend, I...” He trailed off, uncharacteristically hesitant in his choice of words. “I am well aware I should have asked for your blessing beforehand. Especially since things have progressed with such unusual haste, but—”

“Oh, nonsense!” your father burst out, as if finally regaining his senses. “Nonsense, my friend, this...” A short laugh bubbled out of him as he turned to you with a face-splitting grin. “Such wonderful news! Oh, my dear,” he took your hand in his, gazing in wonder upon your betrothal ring before he pressed a kiss filled with fatherly love to your knuckles. “You could not have found a better match,” he praised.

“The same is true for myself,” Annatar said, giving you that kind smile of his that never failed to have you return it.

Relief washed over you. All was well.

You’d be lying to say there isn’t a part of you that resents your father for giving you away so eagerly. He could not stop you no matter who you chose to wed, but with anyone else, he’d have at the very least warned you that the engagement had happened much too quickly. He’d have been more cautious of your betrothed, tried to determine whether or not their intentions towards you were true. But Annatar, in your father’s eyes, was of divine nature, and the thought of becoming kin with one of his kind had filled your father with such pride, it overshadowed all else.

You wonder if he is as ashamed of that moment now as you are. And of everything that came after.

You’re not sure if speaking the wedding vows had somehow allowed Sauron better dominion over your mind, or if you were simply too far gone by then. Little by little, more and more over time, you came to depend on your husband. When your father began acting strange and ill-tempered, Annatar alone knew of his ailment, and he alone could help him heal. He alone could provide the comfort you needed as you watched your father lose himself by the day, unaware that the same was happening to you.

He always knew when and what to say to bring you peace. He never seemed to leave your side, whether in the presence of others or alone. And you craved being alone with him more than anything else. He was an expert lover, so attuned to the needs of your flesh, it was as though he could slither beneath your skin and discern for himself which of his touches felt the most exquisite. Being near him was a delight in itself, but intimacy with him was simply addictive.

Warm morning light flooded through your window, and you wondered how you were supposed to ever leave this bed. Lying on your husband’s chest, skin to skin in the afterglow of your love-making, everything else in the world seemed so inconsequential in comparison.

“Do you ever sleep?” you asked, wondering suddenly how it had never crossed your mind before. He was always by your side as you drifted to sleep—most often spent from yet another passionate exchange—and he was there to greet you each time you awoke. Yet he was not of your kind, and an emissary of the Valar seemed to you above such things as sleep.

“It is not in my nature to sleep,” he admitted, fingers tracing gentle lines up and down your spine. “But I rather enjoy laying by your side as you do.”

Your heart soared at the quiet adoration in his voice. And before long, you found yourself aching for him once more. You brushed his neck with your lips, lightly at first, and then with more insistence, making your desire known.

“Again?” he asked, faintly amused.

You lifted your head, the smallest furrow in your brow. “Does it bother you?”

“Not in the least,” he replied. If that wasn’t reassurance enough, his lips caught yours, and he moved so that your body was safely beneath his, and even the thousandth time would not have been enough.

You can still taste his kisses—and they feel like ash. You remember how each time you became one, it felt better, but only now can you see how it made things so much worse. A corner of your mind, growing larger by the day, was always occupied by him. Each time you aided in the making of one of your father’s Ring designs, you did so with thoughts of Annatar. You know now why he wanted it that way—your craving for his touch, your utter devotion to him, seeping into the Rings the Power, one by one. You think you might have known even then. But he was always careful not to push you too far, to bring you back from the brink of suspicion before it ever started to take shape in your mind.

Even when the reality of things was undeniable before your eyes.

Your last night before finding out had been spent in a dreadful haze. Sleep felt more like a waking prison as you dreamt of terrible, yet distant things, hearing screams without seeing where they came from, seeing blood and ashes on streets you felt you should but could not recognize. You were grateful to wake up and see the sunlit sky beyond your window. Its light adorned your husband’s hair beautifully, the familiar sight of him sitting on the edge of your bed bringing you further relief.

“There you are,” he greeted softly, brow creased with a trace of concern. “You gave us quite the scare.”

“What—?” Your attempt to speak ended in a cough, as if you’d been breathing dust instead of air. Annatar left your side in haste, returning but a moment later with a glass of water.

“Here,” he said, putting the glass to your lips. You took it gladly, relishing the water soothing your throat. Once Annatar had helped you sit up and settle against the pillows, you asked, as you had meant to, “What happened?”

There was pity in his gaze. “Don’t you remember, my love?”

You shut your eyes, trying to grasp at figments of blurry images. “I was outside, I think. Mirdania was there. And you. And...”

Annatar shook his head, speaking as softly as if to a frightened child. “Earlier in the day, perhaps. When you collapsed, you were in the forge, with me and Lord Celebrimbor. When you sought to aid your father in merging the metals for his latest attempt at the Nine, your efforts over these past weeks took their toll on you.” He gave you a sympathetic smile, fingers brushing your cheek. “You fell right into my arms.”

“I did?”

His words did evoke images. The memory was there, somewhere. But the more you tried to reach for it, the more your insides churned.

“Be at ease,” Annatar soothed. “You merely slept through the night. I have watched over you all the while, and I shall do so until you are better.”

Better. Yes, you would get better.

But you knew, deep in your bones, that you were not well. The sense of dread within you refused to recede, lingering in the furthest corner of your mind even in the moments where you felt the safest. Something deeply rooted in you wanted it all to be over—the work, the forging, the ailments, your father’s as well as yours. You wished so desperately for things to return to the way they used to be before the Rings, it felt as though a great fist had clenched around your heart and refused to release it. But then again, before the Rings, there hadn’t been Annatar. And your need for him hurt just as terribly.

In the end, everything hurt. Everything.

“Are you in pain?” your husband murmured. You hadn’t realized tears were already sliding down your cheeks.

You broke into sobs.

He slipped beneath the covers and wrapped you in his arms. It became even harder to breathe, and you clung to him all the harder for it, desperate to find that peace that he had offered you time and again.

“Hush, my love,” he cooed, holding you close to his chest as you wept for reasons unknown. “All will be well soon.”

You had fallen into his arms, just like he’d said. Only, you hadn’t been inside the forge, but outside, just as your mind had fruitlessly struggled to remind you. You were there when the siege alarms began to blare and chaos erupted in the streets. When you saw your husband walk amongst it, you had run to him at once. Asking where your father was, wanting to stand united with your kin amidst the unfolding madness.

Darkness had engulfed your vision instead, shrouding your memory as well. He must have carried you back to your chambers himself, crafting an illusion within your mind to match the one in which Celebrimbor was already trapped.

It makes sense now. How desperately you had clung to the very source of your misery. One cannot satisfy thirst by drinking sea water, but you, in your foolishness, had drunk enough to drain the sea.

“You chose it,” he now tells your father, speaking of the suffering he had inflicted, “not I.”

And there’s a part of you that believes him, even as another screams inside you that his words are poison. You cling desperately to the scrap of reason within you which recognizes that his claims are atrocious—that it is Celebrimbor who forced Sauron to torment him, that he is the true author of his own torment. You watch in disbelief, feeling as though you’re falling through the floor, waiting for your father to refute Sauron’s lies as if hearing the truth spoken out loud will save you from shattering to pieces at the bottom of the abyss.

And you can tell he wants to. There is defiance in Celebrimbor’s eyes as he glances to you, the fire of his will still burning beneath the burden of his torment. But, slowly and surely, he tames it. Averts his gaze in shame.

“Very well,” your father says. “Give me the blame. Punish me as you see fit. You have already taken my city. But I beg you,” his voice trembles, tears gathering in his eyes, “let my daughter leave.”

A smirk tugs at Sauron’s lips. “Your daughter...” He returns to your side, gathering your stiff hand in his and thumbing your wedding ring. “...is my wife, Celebrimbor. It is only natural that she should remain at my side.”

You and Celebrimbor exchange a despairing glance. Your father, determined to plea for your freedom—you, fearing the consequences he might bring upon himself.

“Please—”

“Father, don’t—”

“No!” he cries out. “I all but pushed you into his arms.” Tears slip from his regret-filled eyes. “That is my fault.”

Sauron takes a seat next to you, his brow furrowed as if he couldn’t possibly grasp the reason for such grievances.

“She has given herself to me freely,” he says, your hand still trapped in his as he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Have you not?”

You glare daggers at him.

“How could I have chosen you freely, when I never knew who you were?” you hiss. It does nothing to deter him.

“Why do you lie to yourself? You knew.” You shake your head. He nods his, insisting, “Yes. Deep within your heart, you knew.”

“Don’t say such things to her,” Celebrimbor pleads, “I beg you—”

“Such things as the truth, Celebrimbor?” Sauron asks roughly, irritated by the interruption. “Tell him, my dear wife,” he challenges, “that you never once suspected I was more than what I claimed to be. That you never felt the caress of darkness within my touch.”

You cannot look at him, or at your father. You cannot speak those words, however desperately you wish you could.

“Tell him,” Sauron insists cruelly, squeezing your hand to the point of near pain.

“I did,” you murmur miserably. Sauron loosens his threatening grip on your hand, pleased.

“Yet even as you cried yourself to sleep in fear of it,” he goes on, “it was within my arms that you took comfort. Because, in truth, you were not afraid of who I was—you were afraid of how little it mattered to you.” A last spark of defiance drives you to make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and his sickly sympathetic smile makes you shudder within his hold. “He needed to create,” he reasons. “You needed to be desired. And I needed you both.”

His arm is no longer around you, but the relief is meager and short-lived as he then cups your cheek, thumb catching the tears that have begun to fall from your eyes. He insists to hold his hand there as you flinch, screwing your eyes shut. A small sigh leaves him.

“Have I not treated you well?” he asks. “Was I not kind to you when you most needed it? A caring husband, a most... generous lover?”

“Hold your wicked tongue!” you all but growl, your head jerking with enough force that he retracts his hand. Your eyes fly to Celebrimbor, and see that he has shut his in great pain. Shame crawls under your skin. Sauron smiles in a mockery of bashfulness.

“Forgive me for speaking of such matters before your father, but it is only the truth. You must admit that. And it need not change.”

His hand returns to your cheek then, pressed more firmly to it, and you only now realize it’s the one he cut. You feel a warm wetness on your skin, and know that once he removes it, his blood, black as the pitch, would be smeared there, marking you even further as his.

“The Rings are nearly finished,” you say through gritted teeth. “You never truly desired me. What more use could you have of me?”

“Who says I never desired you?” he whispers, almost as if wounded. “I would not have made you my wife, if it hadn’t been my wish to make you my Queen as well.”

His voice is so alluring, so saccharine and familiar to your ears, it takes everything in you to remind yourself that every word is a lie. And if you grasp at reason, you can tell why he speaks them. Because of your involvement in making the Rings, you would always have some measure of influence over them, so it serves him well to have you under his control. But not only that. He would relish knowing he has subdued you to his will. That he not only ensnared the mind of the greatest of Elven smiths, but also claimed his daughter as his prize.

A storm brews in Sauron’s eyes as he senses your persisting reluctance. His fingers grip your chin, pulling you close so that his breath falls on your cheek as he speaks.

“You will say yes to me once more.”

You hate how determined he is to make it so. You hate how helpless you are to do anything other than glare back at him.

But what you hate the most is that you are not certain he is wrong.

[valar-did-me-wrong]

Hey buzzword crowd, here's the simplest, most basic way I could put the core of the problem that imo is happening between you people and most of the fandom..

(won't call you Shippers here because I know some shippers who don't use your language or agree with your opinions )

This is also me trying to convey what I believe is why people have problems with you people's essays & posts (because it is not the ship that most people have problem with, I'll elaborate) maybe this will help prevent future toxicity..

Spoiler it has everything to do with the respect you give other people & their blorbos and nothing to do with everyone except you all being anti-feminist, anti-sex, anti-shipping, anti-biotic, anti-ageing, anti-oxidant, anti-body etc etc etc..

I'll use 3 characters and 5 points, here we go!

(Ditch the namecalling and insults before you interact)

(again this is my opinion & interpretation of the situation)

1. Elrond in Adar's Tent

If you read it as Sauron as Elrond

What it adds to the story: one ship & it's characters' dynamics with each other and othes in that tent

What it takes away from the story: Elrond coming to himself as a leader, his quick thinking, his skill with words and politics, the growth of his character

What it gives Galadriel: a non consenting kiss & more ship dynamics

What it takes away from Galadriel: her friend saying sorry for treating her horribly through out S2

If you read it as Elrond in the tent

What it adds to the story: a young man coming into himself as a future leader, a friend realising his mistake and asking for forgiveness, a half elf being reminded that he has a powerful Maia in his family (he isn't less than any elf lord)

What it takes away from the story: nothing imo because the siege still happens and it doesn't negate Sauron & Galadriel's S1 dynamics so Your ship can still sail

What it gives Galadriel: she gets the apology she deserved and reconciliation with her friend

What it takes away from Galadriel: a non con kiss

You see how your interpretation of this as canon erases a whole character and his arc but the version most Elrond fan's prefer doesn't affect your ship a bit..

Now this interpretation wouldn't have been a problem if you all weren't framing your posts as feminist & show canon & the correct way of interpreting media & then start name calling & insulting anyone and everyone who disagrees.

Just like you guys don't like the show haters on reddit etc trying to disrespect you & the whole Haladriel dynamics, other fan's also don't like to be called assholes, misogynists, conservatives & Haters etc etc for simply liking the show in another way.

2. Celebrimbor and the elven rings

If you read it as Sauron's engagement rings

What it adds to the story: one ship's dynamics

What it takes away from the story: Celebrimbor's part in their creation & his talents as the greatest Elven smith of his time, the show runners statments that Sauron is not there when the rings are being actually forged

What it gives Galadriel: a personalised ring specifically for her from her enemy and all the dynamics of it

What it takes away from Galadriel: her knowledge, her trust in her family member Celebrimbor.. all of which backs her claim that the rings are untouched by Sauron

If you read it as Celebrimbor's elven rings made with Sauron's help

What it adds to the story: Celebrimbor's hardwork, his skills that he has in part learned from his grandfather THE Feanor of Noldor, his ambition, his Feanorian hubris, his partnership of equals with Annatar, call back to his love for Galadriel in a version by Tolkien (for Nenya seeming to choose Galadriel)

What it takes away from the story: a plot hole imo of Sauron having the skill to make rings of power all by himself this early in the story & not using that to make the other rings alone.. still doesn't invalidate any of Galadriel & Halbrand dynamics so Your ship can still sail

What it gives Galadriel: a correct opinion about the nature of the rings that all her people eventually come to agree with

What it takes away from Galadriel: a mistake imo which is either not correctly judging the nature of the rings or knowing and still risking the future of all middle earth by insisting every time that the rings are safe

You see how wanting the rings to Not Be engagment rings doesn't do any harm to your ship and it's dynamics & neither does it reduce Sauron's talents as a Smith.. he is still a Maia who worked under Aulë and helped in Creation Of The World & who will go on to make the One.

But constantly saying that the rings are Sauron's engagement rings erases the whole point of Celebrimbor as a character.. not to mention his talents that Sauron needed to make the other rings and Celebrimbor's input that also helps him in making the One.

And understandaby Celebrimbor fans don't like this interpretation that reduces & erases him. But nobody would have had problems if again you guys weren't framing your headcanon essays as absolute feminist truths & calling other takes Bad Takes.

3. Nenya healing Adar

If you read it as Nenya giving him redemption by fixing his evilness

What it adds to the story: a plot hole with this magic healing ability that can fix everything and everyone who falls to darkness and evil, making way for sauron to find quick redemption

What it takes away from the story: a realistic worldview where individual choices have impact not only on the person themselves but also to everyone around them, an understanding of how healing works irl

What it gives Galadriel: a mistake for not giving away a ring of power to Sauron to heal him

What it takes away from Galadriel: her wisdom that one cannot heal another person out of their evil or mistakes (heal yourself)

If you read it as Adar gets redemption because of choosing to see his mistakes & trying to correct them after being healed by Nenya out of the torture and dark magic that turned him into uruk

What it adds to the story: Adar's commendable ability to see his huge mistakes and accept them infront of his enemy & try to fix them

What it takes away the story: the ability of the rings to heal Sauron

because in this reading it requires acceptance to look your mistakes in the eye & choice to do better that redeems a person which Sauron in show gets many chances to do but doesn't repeatedly. This still doesn't invalidate Sauron & Galadriel's dynamics so Your ship can still sail

What it gives Galadriel: an example that if someone who was under the shadow for so long as Adar can come to the light by choosing to accept their mistakes then she too despite her tryst with darkness can still come to the light by acceptance if she chooses

What it takes away from Galadriel: the burden of healing her abuser

Again reading Adar's redemption as his own achievement doesn't affect your ship at all & neither does it prevent Sauron from ever getting redeemed. It just gives him a truer to life way to get redeemed someday; even makes his future redemption more compelling imo.

But when you make the redemption all about Nenya it takes away the little good this already tragic & tortured character of Adar has. Add that to the usual insensitive framing & you'll get Me in response, an Adar fan fuming.

4. Adar's villian arc

If you read him as solely a villain

What it adds to the story: another villian

What it takes away from the story: Sauron's narrative foil and all the complexity that has been put into his character from his introduction in S1

What it gives Galadriel: a mistake imo it makes Galadriel's pity & understanding of the suffering of Adar & Uruk a mistake if he is only a villain & does everything wrong in all lights.

What it takes away from Galadriel: an example of what becomes of people who accept darkness despite love still existing in their heart and also an example of how good intentions and horrible actions can go hand in hand

If you read him as a morally grey character who had a villain's arc in one light but an anti-hero's arc in another light

What it adds to the story: a complex character that creates an emotional connection with some people who might see flashes of their persecution in the Uruk, a character who grounds the story in real world by having elements of freedom fighters & rebels choosing wrong paths in desperation, a great portrayal of the Cycle of Abuse creating abusers out of some victims

What it takes away from the story: a similar or less complex villian than Sauron but doesn't affect the dynamics of Sauron & Galadriel so Your ship can still sail

Again see how having Adar as not fullly a villain doesn't affect even a bit of your ship. It also doesn't affect Sauron and his existence as a compelling villian with a repentance arc & some good intention behind all the deception. You can still read good in Sauron's actions, Adar doesn't need to be a villain to make Sauron's goodness more visible.

But your insistence that he can only be read as a villain & people who see him as anything else are supporting genocide can irk Adar fans because the scenes showing his good traits exist & were placed conciously & weren't a collective hallucination.

5. Gay Adar being forced into ships with women

This one I'll just simply say.. The people who insist that he's gay are also the ones I see that say his relationship with Sauron was only one sided where Adar was in love but Sauron wasn't.

Here are my problems with this reading:

Adar is queercoded.. the showrunners' interview from SDCC mentions LGBTQIA+ & we all assume it was about him right..

Nowhere is it specificed that he's gay.. why can't he be Bisexual? Pansexual? Or something else or just Queer who doesn't want to be labelled by anything?

Why is this one specific way of reading him so important to you by invalidating everyone else's reading when nothing is concrete canon about this anyway?

Why can't all kinds of people from LGBTQIA+ explore their sexuality via Adar just like you all like to explore female sexuality & dark fantasies etc via Galadriel & Sauron? Because it isn't wrong in anyway I agree, I used to ship them too in S1. And most people you call names every day will agree with that too!

All this was the long way of saying, if you'll be mean to people, their reading of the story, their fav characters and their author.. some will retaliate in the same way.

It's not because they hate your ship or women or women's sexuality or villain ships or gays etc etc etc it's just simply about the respect you give out into the world & the ability to differentiate between fans of the show who like other things than you and Haters of the show.

[sansaorgana]

— CHRYSALIS

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!half-Vala/half-Elf!Reader (Morgoth's Daughter)

SUMMARY — She is no Vala, no Maia and no Elf. Whatever she is remains the most exceptional and undeniably powerful. Morgoth's daughter can either heal Middle-earth or destroy it. Mairon makes a promise to her mother – the one he had once kidnapped for his master – that he would take care of this extraordinary creature but it is no easy task.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It is a bit of a crazy idea, gotta admit, and I probably fucked with canon waaaay too much but bear with me, please! 🤣 I came up with this idea after reading on the Wiki that Morgoth was bound to his physical form, so I assumed he could actually have a child? 🤔 Anyway, in the beginning of this story you get the backstory of Reader's mother and Morgoth. Reader's mother was given a name (Tasarë, which is supposed to mean willow) but her physical appearance is not described (nor is Reader's). That backstory of Tasarë and Morgoth was my idea for another Sauron x Reader fanfic but I couldn't figure out how they could possibly end up together after she develops Stockholm's Syndrome for Morgoth, so I just used the idea in this fic as a backstory of Reader's mother. I also chose this title for the fic because butterflies appear quite a lot in this fanfic and I think the Reader is a bit like a chrysalis as well – nobody knows what will become of her.

WARNINGS — kidnapping, forced marriage, Stockholm's Syndrome (Reader's mother), abusive relationships (Reader's mother with Morgoth AND Reader with Sauron), manipulation, First Age Sauron being his loser self but still trying to get his way as usual, the Reader being half light/half darkness, which results in her acting unhinged at times (she mostly speaks in a dramatic manner lmao)

WORD COUNT — 6,400

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

CHRYSALIS

Tasarë was her name – young Elven girl Mairon saw through the trees in his wolf form. His yellow eyes of the beast were following the way she danced around the fire with her friends, her long hair waving in the wind and her laughter travelling through the cold air of the night.

Perhaps none of this story would happen if she hadn’t looked back, sensing his presence. He could sense from afar the shiver that went down her spine after spotting him and their eyes met – hers filling with fear after realising she had been observed by a werewolf.

Startled by her sensing his presence, Mairon ran away from there to meet with his master who impatiently awaited his report. As usual, Melkor wanted to make sure Mairon was not lying about anything, therefore he allowed himself to sneak into his servant’s mind. And amongst his memories of the battles and schemes, he found the one about the young Elven maiden Tasarë and Mairon’s fascination with her.

“You will bring her to me,” Melkor ordered. “And she will be untouched and unspoiled when she arrives here.”

Mairon nodded. He could not refuse, could he? And he could never defile what belonged to his master, so he obeyed the order completely.

He kidnapped Tasarë away from her village and her pure heart treated him with nothing but kindness throughout their whole journey. She begged him often to let her go and if it depended on him only – he would. He would, in a heartbeat.

Or perhaps he would not. Perhaps he would keep her for himself.

But he knew that he was taking her to her demise. What would Melkor do to her? Each time she smiled at Mairon while bathing in the moonlight, radiating pure beauty and light, he wondered about the pain that awaited her and his heart ached for her.

“When we arrive there, what will happen to me?” She asked once as if she had already accepted the fact she was kidnapped but the details had been kept from her until now.

“You will become a bride,” Mairon informed her and a hint of smile showed on her face, which surprised him.

“Yours?” She inquired. Perhaps such a thought was not as dreadful to her as he would expect – after all the weeks they had spent together, he became the devil she knew, after all.

“My master’s,” Mairon answered and her smile disappeared as her body froze.

“Your master?” Tasarë raised an eyebrow.

“I cannot tell you his name,” Mairon shook his head and she looked up at the night sky with tears filling her eyes.

“Do not then. I believe I know already,” she whispered.

When Mairon brought her to Melkor’s fortress, it was the last time he saw her. The Dark Lord sent him away right after as if he was afraid of the bond forged between Tasarë and his servant.

And when Mairon was back from his mission, Tasarë was not in the fortress anymore. From Melkor’s other servants, Mairon found out that his master sent her away to one of the most secluded castles up in the coldest and loneliest realms of the North. Where she was hidden from everyone and everything and where Melkor could visit her whenever he wanted to. His little bride no one else could even lay their eyes on.

“How can she endure that?” Mairon whispered but the answer he received was even sadder than whatever he had been expecting instead.

“She grew to love him. She had no other choice.”

Many long years had passed since that time and Mairon never expected to see Tasarë again but Melkor sent him – his most loyal servant – to his most secluded and hidden fortress to carry a very important message to his lover. Mairon was supposed to be a messenger and he tried his best not to show his enthusiasm too much because it could worry and alarm his master.

It was not pure joy or excitement, however, no. It was also a curiosity with a bit of anxiety at the thought of what could be left of Tasarë after all the centuries of being Melkor’s bride.

The journey was long and boring – there was nothing around but vast land of white snow and dried out trees. The place where she was being kept was the most secluded and the loneliest he could imagine. He wondered if it was still in the same dimension because the longer he travelled, the more he felt as if he was crossing a bridge from one world to another.

He spotted the castle first – enormous and black with tall towers shaped as if they were spikes. It contrasted with the white land of endless snow although the weather was dark and gloomy. Days were short here if they existed at all.

As he travelled through the snow, nearly effortlessly due to the fact he was a Maia, therefore the cold was not his enemy, he spotted something that made him furrow his brows – footsteps on the snow.

They belonged to a person – a female, he assumed, judging by the size. Was it possible that Tasarë was not as obedient to Melkor as her lover had been suspecting? After all, she was not supposed to ever leave the castle’s walls.

Mairon followed the traces with his heart pounding in his chest, awaiting to see her again but then he froze at the sight of a young woman sitting on the snow nearby one of the castle’s back doors, under a leafless tree with ice-decorated branches.

The young woman was certainly not Tasarë although she resembled her a little. Her ears were pointed but Mairon could feel even from afar that she was no ordinary Elf. She was a creature much more powerful and when he squinted his eyes, he noticed that flowers were growing under her hands and butterflies were flying around her as she laughed. She could not only bend the world to her liking but she could also create new life. She was no goddess, though, of that he was sure.

She was no Elf, no Maia, no Vala. What was she, he wondered…?

When she turned around for a moment while looking at the butterflies, his heart froze in his chest. Her face was… terrifying.

It was undeniably beautiful but gruesome at the same time. Whoever would stare at her for too long, could risk being turned into a stone. There was only one as godly beautiful as scary to the point of no one being able to look at his face for too long and Melkor was his name.

“Who are you? Why are you hiding there?” The young woman asked as a butterfly sat on her hand and she batted her snow-covered eyelashes while looking in the direction of Mairon who was hiding behind a huge rock covered with ice.

“I… Forgive me,” he cleared his throat and stepped out, bowing his head slightly and she chuckled.

“Your hair resembles fire,” she pointed out. “Are you here to burn me?”

“I don't even know who you are,” Mairon confessed. “I am here for Lady Tasarë,” he explained and the girl pouted.

“Sad,” she shrugged her arms. “I hoped that finally some adventure would happen to me. Do you know I have been living in this castle ever since I was born? A whole century!” She whined. She was an adult already but still very young and considering the fact she did not know the real world, it was understandable that she was still like a child in many ways. “Is there anything else except for the snow?”

“There is,” Mairon assured her and crouched down next to her as he pointed at the butterfly on her hand. “You create such things. Flowers, butterflies…”

“Oh, but they…” She looked down sadly and then she looked up again to meet his gaze but with so much mischief in her eyes that a shiver travelled down Mairon’s spine at how terrifying she truly was. “I bring them to life only to die. Look, they’re drying out already in the cold. I give them life and they suffer because of my whim,” she informed him without any emotion whatsoever.

“Why then?” Mairon inquired.

“Because I am selfish,” she answered. “I destroy.”

“You can heal, too,” Mairon assured her and reached out to help the dying butterfly. “Look,” he focused on giving away some of his energy to make the butterfly regain its strength and the young woman’s eyes sparkled as she laughed.

“You fed him with your own spirit,” she noticed. “Why do you think I would let any parasite feed off of me? Who would be ever worthy of sharing my power?” She asked and Mairon’s mouth opened slightly as he was thinking of an answer but they were interrupted by another woman walking out of the castle through the back door.

“(Y/N),” familiar but horribly changed voice caused his facial muscles to twitch out of nervousness. “You are forbidden from going outside. How many more times do I have to say that?”

“You’ve no control over me. I am my own storm; my own thunder,” the girl named (Y/N) stood up angrily.

Mairon stood up as well and straightened his back as he clasped his hands and kept staring down, not daring to look up before being addressed.

“Stop being dramatic and go back inside,” Tasarë sighed and (Y/N) groaned out of frustration before going inside the castle. “Mairon,” the Elf finally called his name and he raised his head.

His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Her kin was known for staying forever young, yet she aged in the most peculiar way. The corruption and rot had spread throughout her and there was nothing but a shell of her old self now. In a way, she reminded Mairon of the fallen Elves that Melkor had taken to turn into the Uruks but she remained more beautiful than them and she was not covered with any scars.

Because it was not his torture that had damaged her but his love. Everything about him was destructive and deadly.

The young Elven maiden dancing innocently around the fire in the moonlight was long gone. The woman standing in front of him was a mockery of her old self. 

“Stop pitying me, Mairon,” she snarled at him with contempt. “Did he send you here or were you a fool to give in to your urges to find me and check on the state of me?” She asked.

“He sent me,” Mairon answered. “I have a message.”

“Come in then,” Tasarë pointed at the doors and he went inside the castle. It was as dark and cold on the inside as on the outside.

Tasarë led him to the big room where (Y/N) was sitting as well. She was reading a manuscript by the fire and looked up with a wicked smile at the sight of them.

“Leave us,” Tasarë ordered and the young girl clenched her jaw out of anger before walking out.

“Who is she?” Mairon asked in a whisper.

“You know who she is. You suspect. The answer is yes,” Tasarë sat by the table and reached her hand out for him to hand her the message.

Mairon did so but his brow remained furrowed. Well, it was possible for his master to become a father – as wicked as it sounded – but he was now bound to the form of his flesh. That was the very reason why he was avoiding taking part in his battles despite some accusing him of cowardice. And for a Vala, being bound to the form of your flesh also meant that you could reproduce.

“Forgive me. I have asked the wrong question,” Mairon interrupted Tasarë as she was reading and she looked up to meet his gaze, irritated. “I should have not asked who she was,” he nodded. “What is she?”

“It is hard to tell,” Tasarë answered. “She is like a god but weaker than one. Perhaps a bit like you. She can change her forms and no ordinary blow will slay her. She can create life as you have already seen. She… terrifies me,” Tasarë confessed. “But I love her.”

“Like you love her father?”

Tasarë gave him a scolding look.

“You are asking too many questions, Mairon. He will look through your mind, don’t you know? He will punish you for the fact you have seen (Y/N). That you know about her. That you dared to ask about her and now this… My sweet devil, you must enjoy the pain he is giving you,” she shook her head.

“So do you, apparently,” Mairon did not give up. The punishment would come anyway already, she was right about that.

“It is impossible not to… He is a god,” Tasarë explained as if she was surprised that she had to explain that at all. “Do you have any idea how it feels to be chosen by a god?”

“Not like you do,” Mairon admitted.

Long silence occurred and Tasarë looked around as if she was scared Melkor was right there, spying on them. Because, perhaps he could be. She beckoned Mairon over and he leaned in to hear her words better and her lips nearly brushed his slightly pointed ear as his ginger hair tickled her cheek.

“I have dismissed her to protect you and her from his wrath. You cannot know too much about her but one thing I shall tell you – she is half me, too. Half of the real me. The woman you saw dancing by the fire as a beast; the woman you kidnapped to lay her on his lethal altar and sacrifice her. And now her daughter terrifies me but the amount of her power is so vast… She can heal as much as destroy, my sweet master of deception. And I can see how much healing is what you truly crave,” Tasarë confessed. “Promise me that you will take care of her if anything happens. That you will watch over her. You owe me that. You owe that to the young maiden you took away from her family for him to destroy.”

“I can’t assure you I will be able to tame her,” Mairon breathed out, taken aback by her plea.

“I am not asking you to tame her,” Tasarë shot him a glance. “Don’t you even dare! I am asking you to… accompany her. She is awfully lonely here. She craves to see the world and I am sure the world craves to see her as well for she is a wonder.”

“I will,” Mairon nodded, with all seriousness.

He had seen (Y/N) only for a while but he was drawn to her already. In a way, he understood why Melkor was hiding her from the world. Everyone would be drawn to her. She was the most extraordinary creature. Her enormous power, the light balancing with the darkness within her – the innocence mixed with wickedness. 

He was honoured to be chosen by her mother to be burdened with such a task. And he owed her that favor. 

When Melkor fell and the Valar locked him away, Tasarë followed him even though she was offered mercy. But there was no life for her anymore except for the life next to her lover and she refused to abandon him in the abyss. She volunteered to spend the eternity there with him and the Valar were in awe of her devotion to the point they granted her Elven flesh the possibility of spending her forever alongside Melkor in the dimension of his prison.

The Valar also found out about the existence of (Y/N) and they debated for a long time about what to do with a creature so extraordinary. However, she remained completely innocent so far and the only danger about her was her father’s heritage.

Nienna, She Who Weeps, was (Y/N)’s greatest advocate. And when Mairon was given his second chance to come back to Valinor and face his judgement, they asked him to bring (Y/N) with him because they wanted to meet her – yet the castle she was in remained out of their grasp, which only made Mairon realise that it was truly another dimension that his master had created to hide his lover and offspring in from the world.

And so Mairon went back to that secluded realm in the North, trying to find his master’s daughter. And he found her inside the castle, curled on the floor, in the middle of the biggest room. She seemed to be frozen but she was obviously still alive. He crouched down next to her and touched her shoulder gently, which caused her to stir.

“They abandoned me. Both of them. I shall stay here forever,” she mumbled out.

“Did you not want to see the world?” Mairon asked her gently and (Y/N) looked up at him as she snorted.

“That was a long time ago. My father is defeated now. There is no world for me anymore,” she answered, as dramatically as when he had met her for the first time a few centuries earlier.

“Truth to be told, your father was destroying the world. There would be nothing for you to see if he succeeded. But it is still there, although hurt and bruised. Together, we can heal it,” Mairon offered her his hand.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him, visibly intrigued. She sat up and fixed her hair.

“I promised your mother to watch over you if anything happens. She did not want you to be left alone,” he added to encourage her.

“Why would she ask you out of all?” (Y/N) remained suspicious, doubting his status.

“My name is Mairon. I was your father’s most powerful Lieutenant,” Mairon pointed out, nearly offended that he had to introduce himself to anyone. “Most people know me by a different name, though. It is… Sauron,” he winced a little while saying this.

“The Abhorred,” (Y/N) hummed to herself. “Ah, yes, my mother only spoke of you this way when you were not around,” she added and Mairon pursed his lips, trying not to show his irritation too much. “Well, do you promise me that I will see the world?” She asked as she held his hand, which he still kept extended.

“Yes, I do,” Mairon nodded.

It was never his intention to inform her about the chance the Valar wanted to give them. No, it was not his plan to take her to Valinor and to face their judgement. He had much better plans for the two of them.

Ever since he had seen her for the first time and the promise he had made to her mother, he could not help imagining and plotting them two ruling over Middle-earth. And when Melkor’s defeat had become a question of when instead of if, he had already known that (Y/N) was his future.

Despite the seed of evil deep inside of her – alongside the seed of goodness, of course – she was an innocent being who knew nothing of the real world. He could shape her the way he wished and whatever would come out of her was all in his hands now. In a way, he was a god of this situation – considering she would not be too uncontrollable due to her undeniable power. But which seed would grow within her was up to him entirely. It was his choice which part of her he would water and feed, pamper and spoil.

“We will go everywhere. We will heal and we will conquer. I will take your father’s place amongst the dark creatures of the shadows. I will lead them and I will rule over Middle-earth but you will not be hidden away any longer. No, you will be right by my side,” Mairon promised. He was always good with words and he could see how her terrifying eyes were starting to sparkle at his promises.

“As?” She inquired.

“What do you mean as?” He furrowed his brows.

“As whom? I will be by your side as whom?” (Y/N) explained her question.

“As whoever you wish to be. I am not here to tame you,” he remembered her mother’s words.

No, he was there to use her. To take advantage of her power and to bask in it. To introduce her as Morgoth’s daughter and his right hand, which would convince the dark creatures to follow him more eagerly.

And to have her as his own, to own her, to be the only man able to touch her and look at her. His master’s daughter – she was a prize indeed. Half-goddess he was unworthy of and yet she would eat from his hand.

Those were only bold daydreams that he knew his master and her mother would kill him for but they were far away and he remained out of their reach. 

Because perhaps there was some goodness in him still and that urge to heal the world but at heart he was a predator and a warlord. And even though she still felt like nothing but Melkor’s humbled servant sometimes, he knew that with time he would eventually bloom into his worthy successor. Offering him her daughter while calling out the remains of his softness, Tasarë had not known that she had been giving (Y/N) away to Melkor’s shadow.

“I can sense your greed, Sauron,” (Y/N) squeezed his fingers tighter as if she was trapping him. “But greed is no stranger to me for I have been locked here since birth. I am greedy for life. Selfish for it. And I need your guidance,” she confessed, looking deep into his eyes.

He saw fire in her gaze – her father’s uncontrollable destruction. Perhaps he should slay her and leave her to rot. Perhaps it would be for the better for the whole of Middle-earth and for him, too. He got scared suddenly that he would never be able to keep her temper and her powers under control.

That not only she would finish her father’s work but she would overthrow him – Mairon himself.

But he could also see the flowers blooming and the sun rising above the green hills – she and she only could turn Middle-earth into a realm as beautiful as Valinor; the place he was no longer welcome.

Mairon helped (Y/N) to stand up and he adjusted her dresses as if he was a maid, getting rid of all the dust.

“Do you think the world will fall on its knees at the sight of me?” She asked without the smallest hint of irony. Nearly innocently she believed that she was the most exceptional and the most special creature. And the worst thing was that she had every right to because she was. 

“I will make sure of it,” Mairon promised her and she smiled.

And when she was smiling, she was resembling her mother the most – the very same kind smile Tasarë had been giving him during their journey to Melkor after he had kidnapped her.

Mairon’s heart clenched at the memory.

From one fortress to another Mairon took her – from one prison to another, (Y/N) would say. They had moved South significantly but they hadn’t even left the North yet and (Y/N) was bitter about it since snow and ice was still all she could see. She was unprepared to roam freely around Middle-earth, though, and she was given much more space now instead while the new fortress was much fuller with creatures of all kinds, therefore she could no longer call herself lonely.

It made Mairon happy to see how the Orcs were bowing their heads at the sight of her, nearly touching the ground with their foreheads; too scared to look into her terrifying, cold eyes. He was so excited about it that he did not realise how suspicious Adar was getting.

(Y/N) was given the most beautiful gowns by Mairon and even though it was making him feel frustrated to feel this way – he truly enjoyed giving her gifts and watching her eyes sparkle, although sometimes she would openly admit she found something ugly. He waited for her harsh judgement with anticipation and her approval meant the world to him, meanwhile her rejection felt like a blow. And he hated that for one reason only – it was a brutal reminder that he was a Maia and his nature was of a servant.

His eyes always followed her – he told himself it was to protect her but truth to be told, it was the world that should be protected from her and not the other way around. Yet, he witnessed her whims and dramatic outbursts, her laughter – both pure and wicked – her dancing and her acts of creation. Within the walls of this fortress her butterflies lived much longer and she adorably found it endearing. 

But she was also fascinated by the weapons of all sorts and forbidden magic spells left by her father. Her blood was as black and thick as his, Mairon noticed one day when she drew it with a dagger to perform one innocent spell.

He felt like a nanny sometimes – running towards her to take away the books with too dangerous spells from her. She was yet unprepared to use them. He did not even want to think about what would happen if she was left unsupervised.

Therefore, even in her dreams he followed her and she often dreamt of her mother and of imaginary lands since she had no idea what the real ones looked like. And he had to admit the realms (Y/N) was creating with her mind were… beautiful. They were full of sun and green fields of grass, butterflies and flowers. They were ideal and full of harmony – the very first time Mairon had joined them in her dreams, he nearly cried because it was exactly how he wanted the world to look like. But it also meant that at the end of the day (Y/N)’s heart remained pure and uncorrupted.

And just like that, he fell in love with her. As her protector, as her servant, as her subject, as her friend. As her lover.

One evening Mairon asked (Y/N) to join him in the forge where she had not yet been. She walked inside and looked around with widened eyes and a smile – soft but a little contemptuous as well.

“Do you like it?” Mairon asked her with his hands clasped nervously behind his back.

“Perhaps. But is it not a commoner’s work to commit himself to physical labour?” She leaned her back onto the pillar and Mairon chuckled nervously as he approached her.

“Would a commoner craft you such wonders?” He asked as he reached his hand out and showed her a necklace and a ring that he was holding inside his hand and that he had forged for her a few days earlier. He had been lacking the courage to give it to her until now, though.

“Are they for me?” (Y/N) asked as her eyes sparkled when she took the jewellery from him. Mairon nodded at her question, proud of himself because she visibly liked the gift. “Why?” She asked.

“You do not own any,” he answered.

“But who sees me here? I surely have no need to look grand for the Orcs,” she laughed.

“I see you,” Mairon pointed out and she froze.

He panicked at first, scared that those three words had been three too many. But she was not looking at him at all. She pointed her finger at the item behind his back.

“That is…” (Y/N) whispered.

“Your father’s crown,” Mairon nodded and walked up to it. “I am about to reforge it to fit me. Do you want to watch?” He asked and (Y/N) nodded, hesitantly.

She put on her new necklace and a new ring before Mairon offered her one of the leather aprons. It made her giggle when he was putting it over her gown.

“I would not want your robes to get damaged,” he informed her and she nodded as she sat on the chair nearby and watched with fascination how he worked.

When the black iron of her father’s crown melted, she sighed loudly and Mairon turned his head around to raise his eyebrow at her.

“What is it?”

“I was thinking if you could forge an item for me made out of this iron, too,” she looked up at him. “He was my father. I wish to keep a part of him with me always.”

“You are part of him,” Mairon laughed and she pouted. “But, surely, why not,” he promised and she grinned.

He poured a small amount of the liquid black iron aside to one of the cauldrons over the fire to avoid solidification. And while he worked on his new crown, he wondered what he could forge for (Y/N).

A bold idea came to his mind – an idea so forbidden that he felt a shiver travel down his spine at the thought of what her parents would do to him for having it.

Yet, he was out of their reach, so he went with it and at the end of the night, he handed (Y/N) a wedding band.

“Another ring?” She huffed. “Thought you would be more creative,” she sighed. “It doesn’t even have any gemstone attached to it!”

“Do you know what that is?” Mairon asked, a little impatiently, but mostly nervously. If she rejected him now, it would certainly be one of his grandest humiliations.

(Y/N) furrowed her brows and tilted her head as she stared at the item in her hand, looking at it from every angle. And when the light from the forge’s fire reflected upon the surface of the band, the letters glistened and she read them out loud in a whisper.

“It is a love declaration in Black Speech,” she looked up to meet his gaze as Mairon swallowed the lump in his throat. “That language was not made with love declarations in mind, that is for sure,” she remarked.

“Nevermind then,” Mairon tore the item out of her hands and walked away nervously to avoid her gaze. Taking deep breaths to calm himself down after such a humiliation, he did not hear her footsteps following him.

“Sauron…” She whispered, addressing him by the only name she was ever calling him with because her mother had taught her so, and touched his shoulder but he flinched. “You do not like that name, do you?”

“Yet you keep using it,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

“The Abhorred sounds so pretty to me,” she confessed and he softened a little but still refused to turn around and meet her gaze. “From the moment I saw you those centuries ago… I knew that you were the one for me,” she added and Mairon’s heart quickened. “You showed up out of nowhere like a knight out of my dreams who would save me. Your red hair contrasting with the snow… I shall never forget that day.”

Mairon finally turned around and he watched as she cupped his face gently and pulled his head down to be able to place a kiss upon his forehead while his heart began to pounder.

“However, I cannot marry a man who needs me more than I need him,” she added when she let go of him, her words shattering his heart into millions of pieces.

And alongside the pain, anger came as well. Mairon did not enjoy being rejected.

“If you think you do not need me, you are mistaken,” he spoke as the sudden fury overtook him, causing his veins to swell with thick, black blood. (Y/N) took a step back at the sight. “If it was not for me, you would still be rotting in that fortress, hidden away from the world. I took you here, I prepare your father’s armies to continue their march because you have never been taught anything. I am the one promising you the whole Middle-earth, ensuring its people will worship you. If you do not wish to be sent back there to rot, then you have to accept the fact that I am your only future!” He snapped and calmed down right after, softening immediately as his hands began to tremble slightly. He fixed his hair and clasped his shaky hands quickly to hide his nervousness from her.

“You… You dropped the band,” was all (Y/N) said to that as she pointed at the floor before crouching down to pick it up.

Before she stood up, she looked up at his face and it only made him feel even more guilty and scared for lashing out on her.

“Forgive me,” he grabbed her face and leaned in to be as close as he could. “Forgive me, please, I did not mean to… Gods, it has never been my intention to hurt you,” he was lying to herself as much as to his own self. “You must forgive me, it was only caused by fear. Fear of losing you,” he continued and felt her muscles relaxing eventually.

She even dared to wrap her arms around him as she clinged to him like a child seeking warmth.

“I would never leave you,” she breathed out and brushed his ginger hair to put the loose hair strands behind his ears. “There is nothing I am scared of more than to be left all alone again. You were right and I was mistaken – I do need you. I was teasing you only but I did not expect such wrath in return. You are all I have. What is the point of being so powerful when there is no one to witness?” She finished with a playful question and Mairon sighed out of relief, leaning in to brush her nose a little with his own.

She winced slightly and giggled before moving her head to brush him with the tip of her nose as well. Like two kittens they played like that for a while until he finally joined their lips together and she opened her mouth to let him devour her.

He felt Melkor’s wrath even from all the dimensions away but he could not care less about any of that. To hold a creature like her so close and to feel the heart of her flesh beating so fast for him was a victory of its own. For a moment, he nearly wanted to abandon all his schemes and start a new life with her somewhere – to create a life like the one from her dreams but for the both of them only where they could hide from the world and spend eternity in each other’s embrace.

“Please, don’t send me away back there,” she whispered softly after breaking the kiss, her lower lip trembling slightly.

How silly she could be. He would not be able to do so even if he tried because she was too powerful for that. Yet, her loneliness caused her dependance on him and it was all for him for the taking. He felt bad taking advantage of that but it was too tempting to reject.

“My beautiful (Y/N),” he whispered and caressed her cheeks. “You will never be alone. Wherever you go, I shall follow. And wherever you go, I shall make sure everyone there worships your light and your darkness as equals for you are too powerful to be reduced to one. You will help me to heal, to create new life and I will lead your father’s armies to ensure our victories,” he promised and she smiled before pecking his lips once more.

(Y/N) took a small step back and he watched in awe as she put the wedding band onto her finger. His heart and soul sang at the sight.

“I refuse to be in the shadows like my mother once was. I want to lead the armies with you,” she met Mairon’s gaze. “I want to earn my own squalid name, Sauron. The Abhorred. I want to carry my own title with pride,” she revealed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

How cute and innocent she could be one moment and how terrifying the next. Mairon wondered if the war of her two natures within her was exhausting her. Was she being haunted constantly by the duel of her light and her darkness?

But perhaps there was no war within her. It was only natural for her, after all. Perhaps they coexisted and balanced perfectly and it all made sense somehow. And perhaps it was not his duty to understand any of this but to accept her the way she was.

“You will be given a sword and armour,” he promised. “You will be their Queen of The Day and of The Night. You will be their rescue and their demise. Their Sun and their Moon. Their Life and their Death. And whatever path you choose, I shall follow you down the road.”

“Worry not,” (Y/N) chuckled and approached him to put her hands on his shoulders. “I know it is your wish to heal. And my wish is to rule over a world so beautiful like the ones from my dreams. I will only destroy those who stand on our way to create such greatness,” she swore.

Her words soothed him but could he truly trust her? She was Melkor’s daughter and his influence might have been stronger than they both suspected. What other choice did Mairon have, though? To slay her? He would never do that. Therefore, all he could do was to keep her close and take care of her.

Who was he fooling, though? His own self?

He was there to follow and serve and it was only the matter of time when she would realise how powerful she truly was and what a great influence she had over him as well.

Even if she would destroy the whole Middle-earth like her father wanted to and create a land of ashes, he would gladly rule over it by her side. 

Gods, he would gladly serve there as his Queen’s subject and that would be enough.

“You have no idea what you are doing to me,” he breathed out and she giggled.

“I do. I can see inside your mind.”

MASTERLIST

[the-writing-goblin]

I am once again thinking about how good the story of the second age is, and all the fun things you could do with an actually decent adaptation. Consider:

Galadriel should be exactly the same as she is in Lord of the Rings. She is older, weirder and more powerful than any elf other elf in Middle Earth. Other elves are just as unnerved by her as mortals, and dealing with her is stressful at the best of times.

Elrond should be an absolute infant. Just, complete baby face. But everyone treats him super respectfully and he has a lot of power and influence. The energy should be the same as when the super ancient and powerful vampire or faerie or whatever looks like a ten year old girl.

ALSO there should be a tall, menacing elf with visible tattoo and facial scars who just. Stands behind Elrond looking intimidating all the time. The least elf-looking elf ever. All the other elves are uncomfortable around them. Elrond should treat them like their an Aunt or Uncle. The elf is one of the few surviving hard-line Feanorians, all of whom follow Elrond. The longer you can go without explaining this, the better.

Gil-Galad is very tired, and spends a lot of time balancing one of the most famously unstable political systems in all of Arda. Galadriel and Elrond both have factions they support to strongly to be relied on to be impartial. The reason he doesn't worry much about what Celebrimbor's up to is that he's the one member of the family who is highly unlikely to attempt something batshit nuts, and his followers are mostly moderate.

Celebrimbor and Annatar/Sauron should spend the whole series playing complicated mindgames with each other.

Annatar is playing four-dimensional chess from the beginning. For him, this is an all or nothing gamble. If he can't make the rings he won't have the power to seize control on his own. He should spend a lot of time having Light Yagami-level monologues where he tries to figure out what game Celebrimbor is playing while outwardly pretending to be harmless and normal and only succeeding at this about 75% of the time.

Celebrimbor should start of thinking the stakes are considerably lower. Like... is Annatar hiding something? Yea, but he figures Annatar doesn't actually have permission from the Valar to be here or something. Not, ya know, Annatar is secretly Satan in disguise. In the first act there should be an almost comical disconnect between the amount of energy Sauron is putting in to these mind games versus Celebrimbor.

Bonus points if as Celebrimbor figures out the truth, you intersperse more and more of his family backstory. The guilt he is still carrying for a lot the things that happened in the first age. Early on bring in the fact that Finrod went into Sauron's jaws alone and it was Curufin's fault, use this as angst material. And then as he figures out who Sauron really is, drop Maedhros and Thangorodrim in like a nuclear bomb.

Because Celebrimbor has seen this play before, and he knows what Sauron does to people. It wasn't even personal then, what Sauron is going to do to him will be so much worse.

And Celebrimbor chooses to forge the three rings anyway. He doesn't give up their locations, even with everything Sauron does to him at the end. And that should be devestating.

[dinsbeskar]

Subjugate the Devil (Sauron/F!Reader)

Sauron has a nightmare. You are only too happy to oblige in making him forget; or:

Sub!Sauron makes a lengthy appearance. Plot, what plot?

Set in my In The Dark series, but works as a standalone (alludes to trauma mentioned in other chapters, but it is literally just smut) // AO3 Link

Soundtrack: Disease by Lady Gaga, Don't Let Me Go by Raign, Like a Prayer by Madonna, Oh You Are Not Well by Chloe Foy

Playlist!

Warnings: 18+! Dom/sub - gentle dom, needy sub; just pure smut; literally Plot What Plot (though there is a bit if you squint); P in V sex; oral sex (male and female receiving); copious amounts of bodily fluids (sorry, like for real); cockwarming; dry humping; handjob; begging/denial/teasing; praise kink; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; unresolved trauma; tiny bit of violence but it is just an illusion; very soft!Sauron, so tender. We make him cry and that's all I wanted to do.

A/N: I've been working on this for a few days, it is ummm filthier than anything I've ever written, like I really don't know where it came from. The warnings are just what's on the menu at this point idk.

I pictured Annatar for this one, but you guys can imagine whomever you like (@troublesomesnitch he's got that chest hair though!!) Sub!Halbrand would be a treat ngl.

Excuse the gif guys, I just want to see him cry :)

Word Count: 4.2k (!!)

Sauron does not sleep. Ordinarily.

However, you make it look so peaceful, he has to try it occasionally. Of course he usually finds you in your dreams, takes all the attention you can spare and more, leaving you wanting until waking when he can ravage you again.

Sometimes however his dreams come unbidden. Instead of slipping into your mind, he falls deeper into his own, unearthing old memories he'd rather stay buried, burned beyond recognition.

You always know when this happens; your usually calm and collected lover wakes in a cold sweat, clutching at your skin, his face in your neck, desperate to forget what his mind has shown him. He has never told you the details, but you can only assume it has something to do with his master, with his cruel and unusual forms of punishment.

Tonight is one of those nights, worse perhaps as he moans and writhes in his sleep, rousing you immediately. You can't seem to wake him from his torment, every gentle touch, every kiss to his temple only seems to fan the flames. You end up atop him, each of your thighs either side of his abdomen, trying to shake him awake.

Visions of Morgoth in his wrath; illusions of you partaking in his torture at his master's hand; pain and terror in his heart, as the nightmare refuses to cease, even as you try to soothe him.

What makes you think a servant as worthless as you deserves a love like hers?

Morgoth's words hold him in a vice grip; he can't break free, the unshed tears behind his closed eyelids threaten to leak onto his cheeks, stricken with fear and pain.

"I've got you, you're okay, you're here with me." You stroke his face, your hair brushing his chest, unsure of what to do except hold him.

When his eyes finally fly open, he grasps your arms, and with a leg hooked behind you, flips you onto your back, a dagger at your throat.

You're fairly sure his weapon isn't real, but he is a master of illusion, and pain is merely a construct of the mind; he could hurt you if he wanted to.

In this state, you're reminded of just how dangerous your husband is, even between dreaming and waking. His eyes are black, unseeing, with a terrifying expression you're sure would have annihilated any enemy he could have been dreaming of.

Your hands shaking, you reach up slowly and try to take the knife; surely enough, when you clutch at it, it disappears like smoke between your fingers, so you take his hand instead, still clenched unfeeling around his shattered illusion.

You pull his hand to your chest, letting him feel your racing heart flutter against his fingers.

Slowly but surely, you bring him back to you, his daze broken but his psyche bruised and bleeding.

Your shallow breathing evens out as the light returns to his eyes, and for a moment he looks at you confused as if his position above you is of your own making.

His eyes dart from his hand on your chest, to your fiercely fixed expression, attempting to soothe his nerves but unable to hide how shaken you are.

"Is this real?" He's still breathing hard, for someone who doesn't really need to breathe. "Are you really here? Is it you?"

He's so tender, tracing your cheekbones, your cupid's bow, gently raking your hair with his fingertips.

"Of course, beloved, I'm right here, I'm always right here." You try to hide your confusion, assuming he's still walking the line between dreaming and waking.

He slowly pulls himself away to nestle at your side, reluctant to break eye contact with you as he does so, still clutching at you to ground himself.

"What did I do? Tell me I didn't hurt you, love." He's so quiet, it's unnerving, but you take him in your arms anyway, crading his head to your chest.

"All is well, my love, it wasn't real, you're here with me, no one can touch you here." Some nights, holding him close and murmuring sweet reassurances in his ear is enough to soothe him; tonight he needs a little more from you.

All you want to do is tell him you love him, that he deserves you, that you're his, that he deserves everything you want to give him, that you ache for him when he's not by your side.

But he's hard against your hip, a fact you're trying to ignore; taking advantage of him is the last thing on your mind, not that he would protest, even when he returns to his right mind.

He listens to your heartbeat for a while, focusing on the strong rhythm to forget his waking nightmare, marvelling at how your heart beats in tandem to his, running his trembling fingers across your exposed skin, up your arm, across your collarbone to your throat, watching the artery jump in time with your heart. He knows you so well, so intimately, that when you notice his erection, your heart skips a beat, and he can guess exactly what you're thinking, not needing to peer into your mind for himself.

You feel him grind against you and you release a breath you didn't even realise you'd been holding.

"Love..." You murmur into his hair, absentmindedly running your fingers over the sensitive pointed tips of his ears. "Come now, you need to rest, darling."

He can't show you what he saw, what he went through, the horror and the agony of his master's worst torments. The image of you performing the worst of it is tattooed on his eyelids, a reminder of Morgoth's favourite form of punishment. He can't show you, can't tell you, but he can ask you to make him forget.

"I need you," he whispers in your ear, strangled groans peppering his sentiments, making you gasp, "need you to feel good, need you to know how much I adore you-"

Your eyes widen as blood rushes to your cheeks, the heat of his words enflaming your core.

"I want you too, love, but right now? Are you sure?" You ask him through ragged breath as he turns his attentions to your neck, licking and sucking and blowing cool air over your wet skin, before warming it with his tongue once more.

You're so close to giving in, wanting to give him all he craves and more, and he knows it.

"Use me," his breathy moan breaks on your skin like a wave on the shore, tingles washing down your spine, filling your core with empty warmth as he bucks his hips into yours, which respond in kind as you turn your head to meet his hungry kiss.

"I'm yours. Make me yours."

His words thrill you, but his tone makes you feel incredible; needy, wanton, desperate to please you.

You glide your hands over his torso, relishing in his hot velvet skin and the soft hair that covers him; taking your time as he tries to kiss you senseless, his heated skin glowing with sweat that you can't resist tasting for yourself, salt and smoke on your tongue.

"Use me... take me... love me..." he begs you, with less and less breath left in his lungs with each command, as you gently lay him on his back, straddling his thighs, grinding your core into the hard muscle.

You slide your hands between the layers of fabric separating your skin, stripping him slowly and laying him bare for your viewing pleasure alone.

He arches his back for you, baring his neck and thrusting his hips into the ghost of your touch, chanting your name and praying for you to take his aching cock in hand.

You trace the contours of his thighs, his firm abdominal muscles, the stiff peaks of his nipples, earning you a shudder and a moan that shoots straight to your core, hot wet arousal dripping onto his thigh.

His fingers move to gather your nectar instinctively, wanting to savour every taste of his wife, but you grip his wrist and raise it above his head, and he gasps. You've never denied him before, not in the eons you've adored him, but it turns him on beyond belief.

Sauron watches you hazily, through heavily lidded eyes, in disbelief that the goddess above him is his and his alone to enjoy and to ruin. You are a sight to behold, as your hair cascades down your back, lips parted and breath ragged; your breasts bounce as you ride his thigh, hypnotising him, drawing him deeper into your thrall.

He tries to lean up to kiss you, lave every inch of your skin with his desperate tongue, but you push him back to the bed.

"Not yet, soon but not yet." You want his mouth on you, the aching between your thighs only amplified by the distinct lack of your husband’s throbbing length inside you, but tonight is for him; he needs to surrender to you first.

"I don't think you've let go quite enough yet." Your warm breath breaks on his sensitive neck, washes down his spine, straight to his cock, throbbing in his need for you.

You haven't touched him yet, hands firmly in place on his chest; his eyes plead with you to be lenient, and as his loving wife, you're only too happy to oblige him as he continues to beg for all the care and attention you can give.

"Please, love, please, need you to-" he gasps as you run your fingers over the head of his cock, gathering the copious amounts of precum pooling on his stomach to ease the glide over his flesh.

"Is that better, love?" You can't help but smirk at his pained gasps, as you languidly stroke his shaft, circling the sensitive head with your thumb, your eyes locked on his.

His cock twitches in your hand as he moans your name, begs for release, begs for your cunt, begs to be remade.

"That's it, love, let yourself go. All you need to do is feel good for me, my love," you lean down, whispering in his ear, "please me, show me how much you deserve your release."

His breath hitches and you hear him swallow hard; his expression is a masterpiece, eyes wide, jaw slack, as he begs you to show him mercy, groaning and whimpering as you pump his length.

"Please..." It's only one syllable, but it feels like a lifetime as he chokes out his plea, tries to touch you to no avail as you hold his hands above his head, placing them in a death grip on the headboard.

"Please, what? You might need to be more specific, my darling." You edge down the bed, holding him in place as he tries to follow you, until your head rests on his thighs.

"Need you to... fuck!" He growls and curses and grips the headboard as his hips jerk and writhe to meet you.

"Need me to...? What, my sweet, tell me?" You are enjoying teasing him, perhaps a little too much, and you will pay for it later, but right now he's so deeply needy for your love and attention that he'll take whatever you bestow upon him.

"Touch me..." he groans, as his cock visibly throbs with need, "your fingers, your mouth, I don't care, I need you, you're the only one, only one who can make me feel like this..."

His pleas and whimpers cut off with a sharp gasp, as you take his cock in your mouth as deeply as you can manage. He feels the opening of your throat on his tip and loses his mind, his oversensitive flesh shooting stars up and down his spine, heat pooling in his abdomen that almost immediately spreads like wildfire throughout his body, as your fingers and tongue and lips work together like an orchestra, drawing an irresistible melody from the depths of his pitch black soul, and all the seed his cock can muster.

You pull away and let him spill himself over your thighs, your abdomen, your hands; he looks mortified but he can't stop now he's started, pearly white splattering your skin, making you his.

"I belong to you," he keens and stutters but you hear him through his orgasm, his whimpers becoming moans that reverberate through you.

You can only watch him adoringly as he finishes quaking and moaning beneath you, unable to quite believe that he is yours, even after all this time.

You sit up, licking him from your fingers, and your smile is so radiant, he forgets where he is, who he is, all the evil he has ever done. For one shining moment, it is just you and him, all he'd ever need.

"Proud of you, love, so good for me." You murmur as you lean down to kiss him softly, giving him that tiny confirmation of your affections he needs right now.

"...thank you, needed you. Ahh- Need you." He is grateful, oh so grateful, but his still-hard cock betrays him, and you can't help but grin.

"Oh love, did I not do a good enough job? Have I left you wanting?" Your faux sincerity pains him and he immediately starts apologising.

"No, no, not that, never that, always so good to me, my beautiful wife, love you so much, my sweet..." His cunt-drunk ramblings are adorable but you put a finger to his lips.

"It's okay, I know, I've got you," you smile at him; he returns it so radiantly, you have to kiss him, to be the one to destroy it.

His pretty moans flutter to your cunt, arousal dripping from you like honey from the hive, and he looks up at you, gloriously wide eyed, begging to be allowed to taste your nectar, to sate his thirst for you.

You can't help but feel absurdly powerful, a Maia fallen apart at your fingertips, never mind this Maia, this beautiful demon who vowed to never relinquish his control again. It's an honour and a privilege to see him submit to you like this, submit to himself like this, let himself just feel without exercising his need to dominate, to just let go with the one person in the world he knows he is truly free with.

"Please, my love... remake me, make me yours," His breathless plea is like no music the Valar have ever sung, his moans a spell all their own, enrapturing you even as you hold the key to his release, as you take command of the Maia who values his control of others above all else.

"I do believe, dearest, that you made quite the mess, actually, perhaps you'd be so kind?" You gesture to the cum that still drips down your thighs, sticky and uncomfortable and definitely ready to be washed from your skin.

He is only too happy to oblige.

You lie back and beckon him to you; he works his way up your body, methodically but no less desperately, licking up every drop to please you, content to savour every inch of you. When he tries to make a detour to your mound, you gently yank his hair, reminding him of his task, revelling in the absolute control he's given you.

"Oh love, you did make a mess," you moan as you stroke his hair, "so good for me, cleaning me up, such a good husband, always so good to me."

Receiving such praise is almost cruel and unusual for Sauron, who is frankly more used to giving it to you, and receiving wrath from all others. A tiny voice in his mind tells him he should be embarrassed; but what is worship if not praise? Your devotion, your care, your undivided attention; all for him, giving him that for which he yearns above all else.

He can't resist stealing a kiss, crashing his lips to yours as he cradles your face. You taste his seed on his lips, something that feels strangely forbidden, thrilling in its taboo. The aching in your core has only intensified with his efforts, and you feel it is about time he served you with his silver tongue in the way you both crave. You push his head to your cunt, with which he gladly complies, settling between your thighs, gripping your legs firmly apart to allow him to feast on you.

Before his tongue can delve into your folds, he holds back, locking his gaze on yours.

"Please? Let me taste you, let me show you how much I love you."

"Fuck, yes, love, yes," you chant his name as he finally puts his tongue to excellent use, seeking out your swollen clit, lapping at your entrance, sucking at the velvety skin of your inner thighs.

He keeps his hands in view; you haven't told him he can touch himself, and he won't break this spell now.

Like a starving man at a banquet, he indulges in you, exquisitely. Every tiny moan that escapes him vibrates over your folds, making you whimper in return; he flicks his tongue over your entrance before sliding two fingers deep inside you, hooking them and stroking that delicious sweet spot inside you that makes your toes curl. He watches you the whole time, basking in the chorus of your pleasure.

You feel the heat coil in your abdomen, and you pull him away sharply; his disappointment is evident but you want him inside you when you finally claim your orgasm.

"Lay back, love, hands on the headboard." It is intoxicating, having your husband obey your every command, and as he settles into the mattress, looking up at you expectantly, you vow this won't be the last time the two of you play this game.

Sitting astride him, you feel as if he's never been so deep inside your cunt before now. You hiss a little at the intrusion but he's so familiar, every time he enters you, it feels like coming home. You grind your hips into him, capturing with your lips every whimper that forces its way past his clenched teeth. Tracing his firm chest, running your fingers through the smattering of soft hair, feeling every curve and contour slowly, languidly, while he writhes beneath your thighs, caging him inside your wet heat.

His strangled moans and gasps echo throughout your chamber; every time he reaches for you, you press a kiss to his palm and hold it above his head, until he learns to behave.

"No one could love me like you, care for me like you, knows how to take their pleasure from me like you, beautiful wife, only yours." He feels like he's losing his mind, slipping further into some deep quiet space where it's just the two of you, where nothing matters but you on his cock.

"Only you can put me back together, can sing the song my soul yearns for-" you interrupt his pretty words with your fingers in his mouth.

"Hush, my love, focus on me, only me, you don't have to speak, you don't have to beg for me unless you want to, just let it happen." You trace the shell of his ear with your tongue, savouring the tiny sighs that escape him, before nipping the pointed tip and relishing his sharp moan.

"Bound together, you and I, for all eternity... and I wouldn't have it any other way, sweet husband." You groan out between thrusts, every movement within you the sweetest form of torture.

No other thrill in the world will ever compare to this; your divine husband laid out beneath you, looking up at you with blissful wonder, eyes black with lust, golden hair mussed and tangled by your fingers, your name tumbling from his swollen lips like a prayer and a curse. Right now, you'd take either.

"Darling, please," his broken gasp spans an octave, jumping to a breathy moan as you descend on his cock once more.

"I know what you need, love," you moan as you ride him, the drag of his cock inside you fucking delicious, but the look on his face is a feast in comparison.

His eyes widen as he clutches the bedsheets, refusing to look away but requiring every iota of self-restraint to stay present with you, not to lose himself to the unearthly sensations you've introduced him to tonight.

"I've got you, just let it go, give yourself to me, beloved, let your mind empty-" you kiss him deeply and swallow the groan building in his chest.

"So proud of you, so good for me, doing so well," you let out a throaty moan as you clench your walls around him, feeling his cock throb within you.

"I know what you need..." You murmur as you lean over him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, "nothing in that head, cock wet and wanting, heart full and happy."

His ragged breath hitches as the last shred of self-control slips through his fingers. He thrusts up deep inside you, throbbing, aching to fill you, as you grab his hands and pull them to touch you finally, a precious relief to you both.

As he runs his hands up your bare skin, he kneads your soft flesh, worshipping every inch as if he's never beheld anything so perfect in his long life. His large hands encircle your abdomen, grasp your hips, pull your ass impossibly closer until you can't tell where you end and he begins; not that the distinction is important anymore.

He rests his hands on your back, fingers splayed as if to encompass you within his flesh, as if being wrapped around you, caged inside you, isn't enough contact, like the two of you enjoined in body and soul isn't enough, will never be enough to sate his hunger for you.

Finally, you let him lean up to join you, his torso flush with yours, gliding against you, slick with the sweat you've provoked in your teasing. He kisses you hard, tongue tangling with yours, teeth hungry, lips swollen, your breath mingling just as your souls are entwined, a maelstrom of pleasure in which you'd be happy to be imprisoned forever.

You brush back his soft hair, grip the roots, and pull his head back, bearing his throat to your greedy lips. You grind on his cock as you press harsh kisses, soft bites, to his tender flesh, laving his skin and savouring his moans under your tongue. He fucking whimpers under you, and you pull away to take him in, in all his ruined glory.

There are tears in his eyes, his lips wet and parted for your kiss; his expression is nothing like you've ever seen, so completely has he given himself to you and your pleasure.

You softly trace his throat before grasping him firmly, feeling every breath, every sob, every whimper, reverberating through you, inflaming every nerve in your body.

His Adam's apple bobs under your fingers, firm in your grip but tender in your passion. Tears spring unbidden to his eyes, falling down his glorious face and filling your heart with such love, such adoration, such utter and complete devotion, that it scares you for a moment, pushing you over the edge at last.

You clench around him, milking his sensitive cock for every last drop of seed, as you ride this new high, this indescribable feeling of power that his submission has wrought in you. You think if you could just hold onto that feeling-

"I feel it too-" his strangled moan is cut short, all the stars in the sky paling in comparison to the pleasure he feels beneath you right now.

You feel him paint your insides, his cock throbbing and twitching inside you until he is spent. Your foreheads pressed together, your limbs entangled, every breath shared in tandem; you would stay here forever. And he would gladly grant his goddess that wish, and any more that your heart desires.

You roll onto your side, limbs shaking with exertion, pulling him to join you, refusing to allow him exit from your wet heat. He huffs a small, relieved sigh, not wishing to be parted from you either.

His iron embrace never fails to comfort you, and it is especially firm tonight. Your heart swells at the thought that even after surrendering to you so entirely, so perfectly, he still needs to hold and shelter you, can't give up his role as your protector even at his most vulnerable.

"We should do that again, love." You murmur, feeling his smirk against your neck.

"Whatever you desire, my Queen," he peppers your neck with tender kisses, sensing you are close to sleep. "I am yours, you are mine-"

"And always will be." You interrupt with a sleepy smile, provoking a chuckle.

Sauron can only watch you enthralled, as you drift off, content, your limbs entwined with his, reluctant to follow you into sleep after tonight's events. Perhaps, yielding control is something he should master, he muses; after all, you did seem to be utterly delighted with the turn of events, and he is nothing if not a loving Lord, a devoted husband enthralled by his wife to distraction.

You slip into dreaming, holding onto him as if for dear life, relishing in the feeling of being so loved, so obeyed.

Your brain is empty, but your cunt is full, and your heart is happy.

[artist-issues]

Hello, yes, it’s Halloween Week and I’d like to say one more time, here, because nobody wants to hear it elsewhere:

The death and darkness is part of the Story the Year Tells, and ignoring it is bad, but so is treating it like a good thing.

The only thing good about monsters, evil, death, and darkness, is that it all ends. But if we skip to “it’s gone,” then we miss the use we have in remembering it.

If you take the shark out of Jaws there’s no emotional climax when the main character says “I used to be afraid of the water.” If Scar doesn’t rule the Pridelands for a while, nobody cares that Simba’s coming back. If Sauron’s blanket of darkness hadn’t spread so far over Middle-Earth— if Gollum as a nasty grotesque character hadn’t existed because he’s “too scary” and “too dark”—or even if we’d seen less of him—then it wouldn’t mean as much when the good guys win. You wouldn’t care as much when Frodo is tempted by the Ring, because you’ve never seen how bad that can get, because you never got to see and dwell on Gollum, for a minute.

Halloween is the Gollum of The Story the Year Tells.

The spirit of it, the part where we remind ourselves darkness and monsters exist, but we don’t live in an UNHEALTHY obsession with them, has always been that.

The World goes “let’s make evil and monsters celebratory and awesome.” If the church goes “no we shouldn’t celebrate evil and monsters, we should totally ignore them instead!” then who is putting monsters and evil in their proper place?

Who is saying, “evil exists, monsters are real, we were once dead, we were once walking in darkness, we were once monsters, that’s why it’s SO AWESOME that we’re a new creation in Christ?”

Nobody. The world gets to go “there’s no such thing as evil, evil is actually a cooler version of good! Witches are neat, werewolves are awesome, and vampires are sexy!” And Christians get to go, “no there’s no such thing as evil, Christians don’t think about evil, the just think about pumpkins and hay bales.” But actually all you’re united in is ignoring evil.

God uses death as His do-boy. He uses dead imagery to describe parts of the salvation story. He allows decay and rot and skeletons and warping to happen, on some level, because He fixes it. And in the fixing, it shows off His character. If you pretend the darkness isn’t real or isn’t relevant, then the darkness doesn’t go away. It just gets to decide how it’s perceived. If there’s a werewolf in the room with you and you go, “I don’t do werewolves,” and turn your back guess what, it’s just going to eat you from behind.

Do what the ancient people did. Tell stories about the monsters as a cautionary tale, and describe how to get rid of them, because as dangerous as they are, ha ha, they don’t get to win.

We’re supposed to take the way the world has warped good instincts and un-warp them, not pretend they don’t exist.

So what I’m saying is, carve jack-o-lantern faces with your kids and talk about how the light shines through the dead thing. Dress them up as goblins and werewolves and then don’t let them have any candy until after they’ve taken the costumes off, and go, “see, you were once dead in your trespasses and sins, but now, in Christ, you are a new creation!” And then give em the candy. Write stories about monsters that get cured when they don’t deserve it, or monsters that are unstoppable by anything except pure sacrifice.

But don’t write out the monsters, that’s not your job.

Happy Halloween.

[rey-jake-therapist]

Why I think it would make sense for Sauron to come back as Halbrand in season 3

I thought much about the appearance that Sauron would take next. If I'm not wrong, Tolkien doesn't specify what form Sauron took when he went to Numenor. Before that, he crowned himself "King of Men", which makes me doubt that he did that as Annatar, who was an Elf: it wouldn't make much sense.

In the books, there is no Halbrand: it was an invention of the show, as much as Galadriel meeting Sauron disguised in a human form in the 2nd Age. So personally, I wouldn't rely too much on the books to try and guess what form Sauron will choose... Not to mention that nothing much is said. I found this:

Men he found the easiest to sway of all the peoples of the Earth; but long he sought to persuade the Elves to his service, for he knew that the Firstborn had the greater power; and he went far and wide among them, and his hue was still that of one both fair and wise. Akallabeth, The Silmarillion

I think Galadriel has already established that Halbrand was Sauron being "in fair form" ;) As for him being wise, in season 1 it's not necessarily the impression he gave, but it doesn't mean that he can't seem wise if he wants to. Sauron can do and be anything he wants, really.

That's why I choose to pick clues in what we were given in TROP so far. To me, it would make sense for Sauron to come back as Halbrand, albeit a different flavor of Halbrand: I think it's fair to say that our dirty, scruffy loverboy and his good sense of humor are gone, alas. Yet, here are my reasons to believe that Halbrand could soon make a return, in a more refined version (like what he saw in the finals of season 2):

He was already introduced to the Southlanders as "King Halbrand": Theo, amongst others, was there when Miriel said that Halbrand was their king. He's the one who found the Hilt and was fascinated with it, even felt a sense of loss when he could no longer have it, has anger issues because his mother died... I think Sauron could take an interest in him. I hold the hope that because Theo's still young, they won't make him turn fully evil or kill him off, but I can see such a scenario happening.

2. We know that Halbrand is not the king of the Southlands now, and so do the Elves, but the Southlanders don't! They must wonder why he doesn't come back to them, and they probably hope he will.

3. In the first episode of season 2, Sauron as Halbrand asked Adar to let "his people" go. There's no way he did it out of pure generosity. He is Sauron, he wouldn't have made this request if he didn't have a plan involving these people. The people who left Adar's camp thanks to him surely know that he's the reason why they're free, and spread the word around them. Yeah, he's probably considered their hero and savior there.

4. In season 1, we are told that Sauron still has many supporters in the Southlands, now Mordor. Waldreg was one of them.

Now let's imagine that Sauron goes back to Mordor with the Orcs he took to Adar, but impersonating Halbrand again. People would recognize him as their rightful king. They would be grateful to him because he got them free from Adar, and he would crown himself "King of men". I could see him straight out admit he's Sauron, since after all Sauron has many followers. Besides, he has several legions of Orcs with him, so it's not like the Southlanders would be free to protest against the idea of being led by Sauron. But he could also keep pretending he's King Halbrand, and claim he's Sauron's ally, now.

"Sauron will protect you", he could say. From whom? From these nasty Numenoreans who decided that their land was now a colony of Numenor, and who want them to provide lumber to Numenor in exchange for food, and treat them like crap! Again, he could lead these people using sheer force, but why bother doing that, when he could just seduce them into following him blindly?

I mean, he already knows the people, they already believe he's their king, many of them are already #1 fans of Sauron... I just think it would be weird for him to go through the trouble of getting a new form, while it's still Charlie who plays him. Let's say he got a red wig and claim his name is, idk, "Pookie" (I couldn't find another idea of name lol); wouldn't that be weird if no one recognized him? It's as if Sauron had knocked on Celebrimbor's door as Annatar, and acted as if he had never met the man. Sure, he looks very different as Annatar than he did as Halbrand, but a quick look at the guy would have told Celebrimbor he was the same dude who claimed to be mortal man a week ago.

For all these reasons, it would seem... easier, and more logical, for Sauron to come back to Mordor as King Halbrand. To me, at least.

It would also make sense regarding his future encounter with Ar-Pharazon. At the end of season 2, Pharazon looked into the Palantir (the hypocrite...), and saw Sauron. He saw him, and he saw that Halbrand was Sauron.

He was pissed. Of course, he used it as an excuse to arrest Miriel, with the claim that she knew Halbrand was Sauron all along, and that she made a secret pact with him. Soon enough, Pharazon will learn that "King Halbrand", who he knows is Sauron, has crown himself "King of Men". Furious, he will send his armies to war against him, and Sauron will "humble himself" (pretend to) to Pharazon, and let him arrest him. Oh, I really can't wait to see those two interact... I predict it will be epic.

[suzannahnatters]

Having shared my RINGS OF POWER s2 eulogy, and while assuring you all that I am also mourning the loss of one of the best things about the show, I would also like to take a moment to defend the decisions being made by the showrunners and writers here.

Before I get started, I just want to acknowledge the members of my writers' group. This post owes much to our discussions. Anyway, when it comes to Adar's death, there are three reasons why I'm not calling his death pointless, or blaming the showrunners for bad writing. The overall reason is this: Adar represents the show's efforts to treat Orcs like people. In this sense, his character was a blazing success. Look at us all, with a hopeless crush on an Orc? Success.

But let's go a bit deeper.

SIMON TOLKIEN'S EXECUTIVE MEDDLING

The fact that Simon Tolkien made an EXCELLENT call in asking the showrunners to keep Adar around for an extra season...still doesn't stop what he did from being executive meddling, or from causing tricky ramifications in the second season. Adar was a first-season antagonist, brilliantly well-written, but ultimately only intended to be a supporting character. The decision to keep him on, suddenly made him more charismatic, more mysterious, and more sympathetic. Given how he'd been set up as a warm-up baddie...season 2 suddenly turned around and made us think he was here to stay. The writers had cornered themselves: on the Tolkien Estate's behest, they had a dark horse who was about to run away with the show. I'm not going to fault them for going ahead with their original plan, because they would have had to retool subsequent seasons massively in order to fit in an Adar redemption arc, and you can't necessarily do that when the whole arc of your story is already planned.

JRR TOLKIEN'S LEGACY

All of us have written things we're not proud of. JRR Tolkien wrote a story world with something problematic hard-baked into the foundations: an entire race of beings for whom genetics determined ethics. Can you even imagine what it must have taken for him to get to the end of a long life spent in the dedicated pursuit of this story world, and to have the courage to admit that he might have been wrong? That really isn't something most authors are capable of. When Peter Jackson went to make LOTR and HOBBIT into movies, he did nothing to scrutinise this issue. His Orcs are flat: monstrous, comic, but never people.

TROP challenged that, and exercised significant skill, care, and wisdom in doing so. But they are still attempting a faithful adaptation of Tolkien's source material. We know where this story is going. Galadriel will end up in Lorien with her elf wifeguy. The Orcs will fall under Sauron's dominion and become his tools, enslaved to his will with the Ring. I did fantasise about Adar being Celeborn, and possibly some of his "children" getting to nope out of Sauron's dominion or even be turned into Elves. But we now know that was never on the table. The Orcs were always meant to fall to the Enemy. But here's the point: for the first time in the history of Tolkien works and adaptations, TROP allowed them the dignity of a fall. Going forward in the show, the Orcs won't be monstrous cannon fodder: they'll be people we knew, people we were pulling for, people whose deaths matter. They are, not a waste, but a tragedy.

TOLKIENIAN TRAGEDY

Look...there's nothing more Tolkienian than a beautiful disaster of a man who dies far too early.

And yes, I know that it's something we've seen before and wish storytellers would move away from - the Moment of Grace that never becomes anything more than a Moment. The villain who has a five minute redemption, then dies conveniently so that the heroes never have to work through the messy business of forgiveness and accountability (although I always did wonder how it would play to see a redeemed Adar, possibly Celeborn, living the rest of his life as a redeemed Uruk among people who hold an undying enmity with his children). It's happened so often that when I, Suzannah Rowntree, sit down to write a six book series where the irredeemable villain has to live and build a new and more accountable life for himself, there's startlingly little template for it, at least in Western media. We live in times that are starved for happy endings and genuine redemption arcs. I wanted so badly for Adar and his "children" to be blessed, and not cursed, by this narrative. So I get the rage. I get the grief.

But tragedy is still a valid art form. Again, all this is a function of the show successfully making the Orcs matter. And the reason the Orcs needed to matter is because they are about to be enslaved to Sauron. They were so close. They genuinely could have been good. Adar could have led them into an alliance with the Elves against their enemy - but instead, just like Celebrimbor, just like Galadriel, they are deceived by him. They turn to him out of fear that their father figure is treating them like cannon fodder, and now they have no one to advocate for them. And that's the tragedy of their situation.

We might all be a little tired of tragedy, but it's still valid, especially insofar as it never, ever forgets to treat its characters like people. Did the writers have to choose tragedy? No. Adar might have lived and undergone a redemption arc.

But the writers didn't have to give Adar a redemption arc, either. Any more than they had to so deeply humanise the Orcs and their father. It's not perfect writing, but it's not bad writing, either. Indeed, for a Tolkien adaptation trying to both honour the author's work and scrutinise his failings, in my opinion it's doing brilliantly.

And...honestly, I'm kind of happy that they left me wanting more, and better, for Adar. Because now I get to write that story myself.

[coriphallus]

A little rant on patch 6 and the implications for bg3's future

Okay, bear with me for a sec its gonna go somewhere eventually. My first bg3 run (thats spammed here on this blog) i played ascended astarion/dark urge romance where i picked the reject bhaal and become the absolute ending.

as it was my first playthrough on release i was vibrating off mt seat and i didnt really have elaborate HCs or anything, i was just doing a quick evil run until the bugs get sorted out. i didn't think much beyond "yes this dude would want the shiny stones for himself"

first time i saw astarion enthralled, i was confused. he asked me to do it, he was quite insistent on it since the beginning of the game. i was confused for a couple of hours, digesting the entire game i just played. Then it hit me; the game was calling me out. it was telling me ive been stupid for not having seen this coming and at that point i felt awe.

it was right, everything pointed to this, it was right in front of my eyes all i needed was to connect the dots that the game laid out quite visibly and i was just too caught up to see.

'well my durge would never do that' didnt matter because thats exactly what the companions thought. Gale thought the powers of an insatiable weave wouldnt corrupt him, that he'd stay true to himself, shadowheart thought shar had blessed and her she'd guide her, that she could be her true self under her influence, astarion thought he'd be free, that he'd cherish the bond he'd made with the player but at the end of the day power reveals; and when that power is acquired through the corpses of thousands its quite evident that Absolute power corrupts absolutely. IT WAS IN THE FKIN NAME.

it was a shining bait i was so focused on getting my hands on that i didn't look back to see the mountain of corpses i had to step on to get there. the game was telling me 'HEY LOOK AT EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE TO GET HERE, LOOK AT WHAT HAPPENED TO ALL THE OTHERS WHO THOUGHT THEY COULD ACHIEVE THIS, DO YOU THINK YOU'D HOLD HANDS AND SING KUMBAYA WITH YOUR FRIENDS AFTER ALL THIS?'

just as there was never an option where frodo could stab saurons flaming eyeball and sit on his throne with the ring on his finger and sam at his side, there was never an ending i could get my 'happy ending' the way id like it to. i wanted frodo to remain in middle earth and have some peace in the end, i didnt understand how he was 'too changed' to remain and sam wasnt when i first read the books. i was angry even, that i didnt get what i wanted. it wasnt like tolkien haphazardly put together an ending out of his ass bcs he didnt know what to do with the characters, its not that he didn't think while writing that the fans would hate it, he wrote a story that achieved its catharsis by reaching its narrative conclusion. it couldnt have done that any other way. it was deliberate. i may not have understood or agreed at the time but it was the story he wanted to tell, and it wouldnt be one of the greatest stories ever told if the writer wanted to please a 10 y/o like myself.

it was never out of character for my durge at all, i was just blissfully avoiding the NARRATIVE.

months later we get this absolute narrative abomination:

and all i can say is im worried.

im worried bcs this is a clear disrespect to the story they've written, im worried bcs if they can do off with huge plot elements and beats such as this just like that it shows a lack of commitment to their own plot and if a huge Point of the game can be treated like a minor mistake than what else can? was is just a lack of oversight that laezel gets killed under vlaakith? can it be waved off if enough vlaakith loving gith players come together and shout loud enough that they want to ride alongside their queen with their gith gf?

what part of the game is tangible to hold on to, and after two years worth of patches that are made to appease the fans at the expense of the story, will it still be the game i fell in love with?

i dont blame the fans for wanting, i blame the devs for delivering. that they could sacrifice the integrity of a pretty straightforward story bodes ill tidings for the future of this game.

yes i wanted this feature, but i was glad i wasn't given it. i may have been confused and slightly miffed that i didn't get to reign supreme with my evil bf, but i immensely respected the game that could call me out on it. i wish they could show the same respect to their own writing.

[mai-komagata]

why i was into saurondriel in s1

but not anymore... (tl:dr; or rather why i don't want on/off again as a plot)

I think a lot of people who ship these two treat people who don't want more of this dynamic like we are blind or something. Like they will quote charlotte being like galadriel loved him in season 1 as proof of something. Like, i know, i watched season 1?

The thing is yes their seduction is romantically coded. ALL OF SAURONS SEDUCTIONS HAVE BEEN ROMANTICALLY CODED.

Ok, real talk. The issue is that this isn't an ETL ship. in an ETL ship, the two people start fighting, right? they only have prejudices to each other. Then they learn from each other and that is interesting. This ship is not ETL -- def a villainship but it is not that specific trope. She loved halbrand's persona. It was fun, as the audience, knowing what was going on and seeing whether she'd be fooled or not. How far would she go. Then he revealed who he was. And you know, this is just me, but when someone i love wrongs me, when i break up with them for a good reason? that is it for me. I have a delulu period where i'll stay with them while they keep hurting me, but once the spell snaps... you are now the ugliest human being alive.

So to me, it is not some sort of transgressive forbidden love for galadriel to want to come back to him. She isn't in love with a dragon and society shuns it. She rejected him and doesn't want him. It just feels like she is not relatable, to me, if she still did. Like if someone used my dead brother (my brother is not dead, but i love him more than anyone in the world, more than my parents) to try to get me to be with them? sorry you turned into a pumpkin. I think she is genuinely afraid of being manipulated by him -- as anyone should be. look at what happened to celebrimbor. But like, i think it would be genuinely boring to see her still want him (in such a simplistic way) instead of having feelings of loss and hurt and transforming that into something constructive instead of vindictive. As for Sauron. Yeah, he is pissed at being rejected. he'd probably take her by force because he is that asshole. And, I think he legit felt a connection to her -- but i think he legit feels a connection to a *lot* of his prey, two of whom he cries about when he thinks about the loss... Note he has never cried about Galadriel. He is angry, not lovesick or mournful. His eyes are full of rage around her, both in s1e8 AND s2e8. Because Sauron craves control, and he cannot control her. And like, I think Sauron's anger at not being able to accomplish his goals is a huge thing for him, a motivator to make the rings, to destroy numenor, etc. But I think it would cheapen his character to make that anger just about one lady who wronged him. It is a part of it, but not the totality. I mean it comes down to it, I'm not into on again/off again stories. And I fundamentally don't think they are each other's person -- that analysis rings hollow to me. I know who Sauron's person is. And I know who Galadriel's person is. And it's not each other. They are both just very lonely and seeking something to fill the void. disclaimer: that doesn't mean i don't want scenes of them together! i think the fight in season 2 was great, for example. I want him thinking of controlling her with the one ring, as one of the many purposes of the thing. but i also think there is so much more these characters will do in the next 24 episodes that I want them to use these characters to the max, have them interact with everyone. also ship who you want to ship, i still love fanart of these two, personally.

[thyras]

→ starlight

PAIRING → annatar (sauron) x f!oc!sabina

WORD COUNT → 1.1k words

WARNINGS → soft!sauron, mentions of past trauma, love confessions (if you can even call it that), giving of gifts

SUMMARY → after a life-altering event in sabina's life, she is now free to choose her path with all the knowledge of who she really is.

AUTHORS NOTE → so yes, i have given up writing a coherent story as it was stressing me out and i was pretty bored of writing the same stuff over again. i will just be posting from now on parts of their story because honestly i'm going where the inspiration takes me. i have so much already written for them that i felt was going to waste as it did not fit into a chronological order for the story. so i'm abandoning the chronological story but not the over arching story i have laid out for them. i would rather write what i am inspired to, so don't kill me for not going in order lol

SAURON X F!OC!SABINA MASTERLIST

There was a soft knock on her chamber’s door. She turned as she finished putting her other earring in. Sabina stood, gathered up her skirts, and walked over, opening the door just a crack to see him standing there. She opened the door more as he inclined his head to her softly. A smile touched her lips as she leaned against the door frame.

“Can I help you, my lord?” She said, looking down the corridor to see if someone was there. Ever since the whole ordeal by the river, Sabina had become paranoid that Olavi would appear out of the middle of nowhere and drag her back to him only to cage her once again. She had disappeared for a few days into her chambers, trying to unpack everything: seeing her mother, learning her parentage, and how her fate rested in the hands of the being that now stood at her door. 

It was a lot to take in, and Celebrimbor had been all but accepting of her absence for a couple of days. But she had to appear at the gathering tonight to see how her master’s help had provided a fruitful product. 

“May I come in?” he asked. She nodded, and he walked through, moving to stand by her bed. “Are you well?” Sabina looked at him, puzzled.

“Are you seeing if you need to manipulate me more than usual?” she scoffed. He sat down on the edge of her bed and shook his head.

“Hardly.” The aura coming off him was something she had never seen on him or in Olavi, for that matter. He was nervous about something.

“Are you scared of me?” she asked with a playful smile. He narrowed his gaze at her. 

“No,” he answered tartly. “I must admit I was completely in the dark on this one. He did not share much with me, but I caught glimpses of her when he invaded my mind to torture me.” Sauron looked away from Sabina’s amused gaze. “It was why I became intrigued with you.” Sabina snorted and went back to her vanity.

“Are you getting soft and sentimental with me, my dear Dark Lord?” He stood quickly and moved over to her, grabbing her wrist sharply and turning her to face him as his dark eyes poured into her.

“This poking of fingers is tiresome; I am not trying to deceive you or trick you.” His throat worked, and she watched his eyes soften back into their bluest shade. “I am trying to show you that I wish to right my master’s wrongs. I dare not treat you as Olavi did or how I was treated. With you—” He trailed off as her eyes widened and her throat worked. A lone tear touched his cheeks. “I feel like Mairon again; if I grasp harder onto you, it will right every wrong I have ever done.” Sabina reached up to wipe the tear from his cheek. 

“We both know that could never happen,” she whispered. “You require a peace I could never give you; I am driven by my need to seek power and control.” He moved to rest his head in her palm.

“But why could we not do that together?” he breathed softly against her wrist. “Just you and I healing this world, carving a path for the both of us to live our lives freely.” Sabina rubbed her thumb across his cheekbone as she sighed. 

Her dark desire for him was always deeply rooted, but now that she was completely free of Olavi, it had risen considerably. She could not say she loved him because love was not in her vocabulary after Olavi had forced those feelings onto her, but she could grow to learn the meaning of it—just like how her mother was still so completely infatuated with the man who bore her, even after learning who he was and why he sought her out.

“I cannot love,” Sabina whispered out. A smile touched his lips as he lifted his head to gaze into her sapphire ones.

“Neither can I,” he said softly before fixing a strand of hair that had been loosened by him snatching her arm. The magic of his touch twirling the strand back into its place sent shivers down her spine and caused her to close her eyes. Sauron leaned forward, inches away from her lips, hot breath covering her face as she felt his hand traveling up the fabric of her sleeve, tracing over the ripples of elegant fabric and golden detailing on the crimson fabric.  “But we will have an eternity to learn its meaning.”

Sabina waited for the pressing of lips against hers, but nothing came, and she could not help but feel slightly hurt by the lack of touch. Instead, she opened her eyes and watched as he produced something from underneath his gray robe. He placed the small pendant in his hands. The star-like shape on the golden chain shimmered and shone in the candlelight. “For you,” he held it out to her, and she took in its beauty. The diamonds encrusted in a star-like shape were something out of this world and, indeed, the work of a man so gifted in the art of forging. “A woman that has shown me that even in the darkest of nights, there will always be light to guide me where I need to be, my Silmë,” he breathed, and before she could say what was on her mind, he continued. “No trickery, no deception, no binding element, just a gift for a woman that I shall travel back to even in my darkest of nights.” 

He motioned for her to turn, and she did so, pulling her hair away from her neck so he could lay the necklace around her neck. He clasped it before placing his hands on her shoulders. Sabina ran her fingers across the beautiful jewels and smiled, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt his lips touch the top of her head.

“Thank you,” Sabina breathed while turning to face him. “But we may cause alarm if we are not down there to celebrate with Celebrimbor.” She said, moving away from him towards the door, a smile playing on his lips. “Surely you would want to bask in the glory of satisfaction for creating those rings,” She paused, and her eyes darkened slightly. “And taking what was his at the same time,” Sauron let a chuckle through his lips.

“You know me too well, my lady,” Sabina nodded and made her way out the door. She could not help the youthful maiden smile on her lips. She knew she could never love again, nor did she want to, but he was making it incredibly difficult not to.

Silmë - quenya for starlight

[fantasyquests]

Rewatching Season 1: Some thoughts on episode 2

1. Accident vs. destiny. Here we have a thematic parallel between the Harfoot storyline and the one concerning Galadriel. Nori says to Poppy that she feels she was destined to find and help the Stranger. On the other hand, Halbrand observes that Galadriel doesn't strike him as someone to whom things happen by accident -- she creates her own destiny. These themes are very important in Tolkien's work, and we have encountered them in The Lord of the Rings, as well: for instance, Bilbo was destined to find the One Ring, and guided towards finding it by the invisible but potent forces for good in Tolkein's universe, probably the same forces that guide Nori in helping the Stranger. Nori has a hunch that she's doing the right thing, but this is constantly challenged by various adverse incidents (such as her father spraining his ankle while doing the work that she was supposed to do, or the Stranger inadvertently killing fireflies).

When it comes to Halbrand and Galadriel, this motif has a different twist, and I wonder if Halbrand (Sauron) stresses the importance of Galadriel's free will because he wants to hide his own manipulations. ("You are here on this raft as a consequence of your own actions, not because I have arranged it.") It's interesting, for instance, that the moment the storm at sea begins, we hear Sauron's theme in the background. Is it possible that he has summoned a dangerous storm in order to get closer to Galadriel? Technically, I assume a Maiar is capable of creating a storm, since we saw Saruman doing it in LOTR.

2. Elrond and the question of time. What bothers me is, how come Elrond is not suspicious when Celebrimbor tells him that he must complete his great new forge by next spring? This is the very same episode in which we are told, very explicitly, that the Elves are normally very leisurly about time and perceive it differently from mortals. "Twenty years is a blink of an eye for an Elf", as Durin says to Elrond, and this different perception is the cause of rift between the two of them, as Elrond did not realize to what extend he had neglected their friendship. But if this is how Elves normally treat time, then why doesn't Elrond ask Celebrimbor to explain his urgency?

3. True creation requires sacrifice: Celebrimbor makes this remark while he and Elrond talk about Feanor's hammer, which is responsible for creating both beauty and pain. Towards the end of the episode, we see another magical object -- the hilt key to the dam in the Southlands, which requires Theo's blood in order to be activated. An ominous parallel, suggesting to us that Celebrimbor's ambition is not entirely wholesome (much as I love his character).

Episode 1 Episode 3 Episode 4 Episode 5

[fatcatlittlebox]

“Many sources” = people trolling and “trust me bro” 😂 Your anon wasn’t around during the “Game of Thrones” leaks craze of the 2010’s and it shows; like 99,9% of the leaks were fake and trolls. Do these people actually believe Amazon would ever allow any trustworthy leak about their most secretive and well protected scene from S2 to hit the Internet? The answer is no. All these “leaks” are fake, speculation and fans trolling. And if Amazon is allowing the “Galadriel and Elrond kiss” trainwreck to be talked about so freely, that’s your give away it’s fake and it won’t happen. If it was true, there would be damage control already to prevent further discussion about it (unless the Galadriel and Elrond kiss is the actual damage control).

Yup. I remember the GOT leaks back in the day. I’m sure the showrunners do too, for better or worse. I’ll say for the most part they’ve been REALLY good at keeping these kinds of things secret. We know that the rumor was a kiss for sure. My caveat is that it was the leaker who interpreted the said kiss blows up canon geneaologies. Yes, Morfydd confirmed there was a kiss but NEVER said who the characters involved would be. 🤷🏻‍♀️

I just think between what Rob Aramayo has said and the direction his character’s arc is going, I don’t see them bridging their differences that quickly. They are on opposite sides, philosophically and intellectually about what the rings do and how they should be used; he is also extremely wary of what the face of good and evil are. Galadriel has been on the frontlines, crossing swords with evil for so long, she’s become familiar with it and, in Elrond’s mind, too familiar with it. He has a very inflexible view of the forces at work in Middle Earth: anything touched by evil is stained by it. Galadriel thinks that is because he is too unfamiliar with evil and I think that’s a common tense dynamic the writers are touching upon when you have politicians (which Galadriel has called Elrond before) and warriors argue their opinions.

The psychological term for what Elrond is doing is called “splitting.” Now imagine you are Elrond and trying to fight the threat of Mordor, then Sauron in Eregion…like he’s already furious with Gal regarding her role in Sauron’s resurgence and her lying about it. And then he’s going to find out that she has broken bread with Adar. Another villain. That might be a bridge too far. In his mind, he’ll probably feel that Galadriel has lost her ethics, if not her mind. He’ll have to decide if he’s going to amputate the disease or treat it. To your point, I don’t see where a kiss fits in any of that.

[sansaorgana]

Adar is one of the best things that happened to The Lord of The Rings universe and let me explain why.

So, I've read The Lord of The Rings and The Hobbit – a long time ago – but I've seen the movies a few times. I have never read The Silmarillion or other Tolkien works related to this universe but I think it doesn't matter in what I want to say either way because I focus on the way we perceive things about this universe in the most popcultural way and I think The Lord of The Rings movies and books are the most popcultural phenomenon out of Tolkien works and most people know only them.

So, the way the Orcs are portrayed in these is... deeply concerning and I've never thought of it until Adar. But you see, they are treated as the lowest form of life that doesn't even deserve to live – a dangerous, mindless and aggressive piece of meat that has to be killed to clear the path. And I understand why the characters think this way about them but I wish there was more philosophy around them in the books and movies.

This universe teaches us we don't get to decide who deserves to live and who deserves to die. That even the trees should be respected like every other alive being. And yet the Orcs are treated like the lowest form of life that don't get the same amount of compassion. And all of that in a story that is about destroying the tyrant and the evil that Sauron is. He doesn't care about any life and he wishes to annihilate whatever is on his way to ultimate power. And yet, the characters who are supposed to fight him have a similar mindset to him when it comes to the Orcs – they're a filthy race that should be wiped out of this world.

And I've never even thought about it – the way the Orcs are being treated and perceived. Not until Adar. And I think it really adds a lot of depth to this whole universe. As I said, I don't know every work by Tolkien and maybe he was talking about it in some letters or notes but that is not the knowledge that made it to the popculture.

I especially like the fact that the Orcs indeed are not portrayed as good at heart. They truly give you reasons to hate them and yet, you get to have this moral conflict because... Does it really give you the right to want to annihilate their whole race? The Rings of Power is asking the right questions with this plotline. That scene where Galadriel – one of the mightiest and fairest of all Elves – threatens Adar that she is going to kill all of his children, that they are a mockery, that she is going to make sure he sees and hears them suffering... It was thrilling in the best kind of way.