#look what you made me do is for Adar

[coraleethroughthelookingglass]

This song is now Sauron’s. I don’t make the rules (well maybe I do)

[elronds-meleth-nin]

A Brush With...Kindness?

This idea came up in a discussion with @bigblissandlove1, so credit to you, my dear friend!! Thank you for being okay with me writing it! ILYSM! Thank you for screaming over both versions of Adar with meeee 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 Also holy shit, this was supposed to be like...2000 words and ended up as almost 12000. 💀

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mentions of violence (not discussed in detail), blood, bloodplay, threats, knives, swords, Adar in the winter, both soft!Adar and stabby!Adar, interspecies sex, Uruk/Human sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), angst, much yearning, nudity, I feel like I'm forgetting something but I have no idea what because holy fuck this is almost 12000 words.

~*~

I knew his face from the moment he and his Uruks flooded into our village. Pillaging and looting where they could, murdering those who fought, the Uruks caused havoc. He strode in with them, looking as serene as the Elf I'd mistaken him for when I was a child.

How lucky I'd been that he'd chosen peace all those years ago. My father was a trader who traveled between Lindon, Eregion, and several villages inhabited by Men. Between the last of those villages and the borders of Eregion, we'd stopped to make camp for the night.

While my father set up our tent and tended to the horse, he asked me to gather some small sticks for the fire. I set off to do so, but in my quest for kindling, I ended up farther away from him than I'd intended with an armload of sticks large enough to make me stagger. Just as I'd begun to turn back, there was a small rustling from behind a bush a few feet away. I turned just in time to see a figure rising to his feet.

Tall, intimidating, covered in dark, aging armor, with scars on his face stood an Ellon. I let out a small, childish sigh of relief. I'd been afraid it might be a bear or an Orc or something fearsome, but it occurred to me that the presence of an Elf must mean that we were close to Eregion.

"You should not wander alone, little one. There are Uruks lurking in this forest," he said, and I noted that he sounded strange. Most Elves had voices that flowed like silvery musical notes, but his was raspy and low, as if he'd screamed for so long that he'd hurt his throat. Maybe he was a soldier, I'd thought. After all, they shout orders all the time.

"I'm not alone," I said lifting my chin as proudly as only a child could. "My father is not far from here."

He did not look convinced, yet still he offered me a smile.

"Perhaps, then, my lady, I could help you with your load?" He asked, and as I'd never been called 'my lady' before, I was not eager to disabuse him of the notion. He relieved me of my bundle of sticks, and together we began to walk back toward the camp my father had set up. After a few moments of comfortable quiet, I posed a question.

"What is an Uruk? I've never heard of one before. The word sounds sort of like 'Orc' if you say it too quickly..." I mused, and a small smile tugged at his lips. Vaguely, I wondered if his scars hurt him, but I did not think it polite to ask. At ten years old, my father had taught me manners enough to know that if a person wanted to talk about something like that, they should be the ones to bring it up.

"An Uruk is the correct name for an Orc," the Ellon said. "The words became...confused long ago. Not many remember their real name."

Oh. Well, that made sense.

"There are two people who know, now," I said smiling up at him, and he looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"That is kind of you, my lady, but you must not use that name around the Elves. They do not take kindly to having their mistakes paraded before them," he said, and that confused me.

"But...you are–"

The crunching steps of heavy boots in the underbrush startled me, but instead of an Uruk appearing from the trees, it was just my father.

"There you are! I told you not to go too far," he said striding up to me and wrapping me in his arms. He placed a kiss atop my head and only then did he turn his gaze upon my companion. Straightening, he glared suspiciously at my new friend. "Who are you? I've never seen Elvish armor quite like that."

His tone was less than kind, and, remembering my manners, I spoke up on my friend's behalf.

"Be nice, papa! He was helping me," I said. My new friend shifted the bundle of sticks to one arm, and placed his hand over his heart, inclining his head in a respectful bow.

"I intended her no harm, sir. There are many perils in this part of the forest and I wished to ensure she would not encounter danger," he explained. "Besides, a bundle this large was certainly more than a lady of her status should have to bear."

He offered me an exaggerated, deferential bow that drew a giggle from my lips. After a mere moment's hesitation, my father invited him to our camp to keep warm, since the woods grew quite cold at night. Looking back, it was obvious that he was incredibly patient with my childish questions as the three of us settled in to pass the night. Our evening meal stretched easily between three mouths, even though our new friend said that he did not wish to diminish our supply of food. We could not simply let him starve.

I woke in the middle of the night to low, whispered voices at the treeline. Carefully, I peeked through the flaps of my tent and saw two shadowed figures around the flickers of a small lamp. One stood tall, and the other hunched over.

With my father still slumbering soundly in his bedroll, I made a decision of which he surely would have disapproved. As quietly as I could, I slipped out, sneaking through the shadows of the trees until I could just make out the face of the taller person in the lamplight.

Our Ellon friend? What was he doing out here? Shifting slightly, I caught sight of the second person and–

I nearly tripped over myself to get back to my tent. He'd been speaking in a strange rasping, mean-sounding language to an Orc - or, an Uruk, as he'd called them.

I wasn't frightened of him, despite what I'd seen. Curiosity still reigned in my mind, but I still did not relish the thought of being caught eavesdropping. The next morning, I rose quite early, only to find that our guest was already gone.

"Don't look so distressed, love," my father called from his seat beside the fire. "He left this for you along with his apologies for leaving before you woke. He said his children needed him."

He held out a small piece of dark metal. It had clearly come from his armor. Carved within it was a set of stars, inlaid with some other tarnished metal.

"He said it was the symbol of the Noldorin Kings. He thought you might appreciate it and that it might serve to remind you of the conversation the two of you had," my father explained, though he looked a bit puzzled. "What conversation did he mean, if I may ask?"

As I looked at the small metal piece, it occurred to me that if he had not told my father, then perhaps there was a reason. My father might react poorly to the word 'Uruk' like our friend said the Elves would, simply because he worked so closely with them.

"He said it was dangerous to walk alone," I said, and though it wasn't a lie, it was not the whole truth, either. I'd never had reason to lie to my father before, and I hoped I would never need to again.

That night after we rode into Eregion and settled into our chambers, by candlelight I found the second symbol. Carved onto the back of the item he'd given me, there was what looked like a three-pronged shape. A tool perhaps? A maker's mark?

I wouldn't see that shape again until many years later when Lord Adar took our village. The armor piece which I'd turned into a necklace years before hung around my neck, almost burning beneath the bodice of my dress even as I averted my eyes from our new lord's.

When the morning came, we were all herded into a line leading to the steps of the tavern from which Adar was currently ruling over us. Those who refused to swear loyalty to him were summarily killed by the Uruks guarding us. When my own turn came, I dropped to my knees as all those before me had done.

Strangely, though, even as I looked up at him, I still couldn't find it within me to be afraid of him. Of death? Naturally, I was frightened, but I could not muster the same feeling regarding the Uruk lord. His eyes met mine, and his lips parted as if he recognized me.

An old man grasped my hair roughly, forcing my head down into a more subservient position.

"Do you swear allegiance to Adar, Lord Father of the Uruks?" He asked, but before I could answer either way, his tight grasp on my hair was suddenly released. "M-My lord?"

"She has already sworn for me," Adar rasped above me, and I tried not to look confused as he urged me to my feet. He reached toward me, and to my astonishment, his fingertips brushed against the pendant that had come loose from beneath the top of my dress. The one he'd given me years ago. The back with the three-pronged carving was visible because the chain had twisted. "She already wears my mark. You will not brand her, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," the grumpy old man said, but I could look nowhere save into the same green eyes I'd seen all those years before. I couldn't help but think about how beautiful they were.

"I shall see to the rest tomorrow, Waldreg. See that they're fed and have a place to sleep," Adar ordered. Grasping my elbow, the Lord Father of the Uruks led me away from the crowd. Once we were safely inside one of the ruined buildings, he clasped my upper arms and looked into my eyes. "I thought I told you it was dangerous to wander alone, my lady."

His voice was infinitely gentler than it had been before.

"I'm not alone," I whispered, "not when I have you."

Looking at me with a mixture of disbelief and something far too soft to be on an Uruk Lord's face, he stepped closer and carefully rested his forehead against mine. The scent of smoke and metal, earth and wood oils surrounded me, and I recognized the scent, faint though it had been, from that day in the woods.

He muttered something in the low, guttural language that the Uruks used, and though I had no idea what he'd said, the sound of it sent my heart racing in my chest.

"I thought I'd never see you again," I admitted in a whisper, and he let out a slow, almost sad sigh.

"I had hoped that you would never have need to," Adar murmured in return. When he spoke again, he sounded almost resigned. "If you wish to leave, I can arrange safe passage for you."

I considered the possibility for a moment. My mother and father were living peacefully in Eregion, thanks to the kindness bestowed upon them by Lord Celebrimbor. I could certainly go there, but...was that what I wanted?

"And...if I wanted to stay?"

Pulling his head back just far enough to look into my eyes, Adar seemed as though he both was and was not surprised at my question.

"You would be allowed to do so, of course, but you must understand that this would be a hard life," he stated. "I cannot offer you any luxuries, not like those found in Elven territory. Mordor is new. We have very little. We have not even completed the construction of our own homes yet. Is that truly the life you want? Barely getting by on scraps of food, sleeping in the ruins of an old building?"

"I can bear it," I reassured him, and he seemed to consider my words as his fingertips once again traced the chain of my necklace.

"I will not make you swear your loyalty, my lady, but I would like your word that if at any point you feel as though this life is intolerable or overwhelming, you will tell me," he murmured as his eyes met mine again. "I would not see your light dimmed by such a place as this."

Gently, I laid my hands over his.

"You have my word, my lord," I murmured, and he nodded his head slowly.

"Then, welcome to Mordor, híril vuin."

--

She'd been different since the day they met. Oh, she was likely an average member of her species, but Adar had little personal experience with Humans beyond the occasional interaction. Her openness when she was a child had been endearing, especially since she hadn't thought him frightening or hideous. She'd accepted him as he was without question - even going so far as to protect him from her father's suspicion.

After she'd caught him speaking with Glûg in the middle of the night, ordering his children to leave her and her father be in Black Speech, however, Adar had thought that she'd have told her father what she'd seen...that he would be met with an arrow to the chest upon his return to their camp. Instead, she'd managed to sneak back unnoticed, and he'd taken his leave before she awakened.

Never did he think that one day as a grown woman - a lady - she would be forced to kneel at his feet. Not even with the threat of death looming over her was she afraid of him.

He'd never wanted her fear. When she was a child, he'd savored her curiosity, and now, as an adult, he found that he relished her gentleness and her acceptance. She'd been courteous to all of his children whom she'd encountered, even if such behavior earned scorn from the other Humans in their encampment. She never cowered. She never diminished herself to fit into the dull little boxes that the others of her species so consistently tried to force upon her. She was unique.

And Adar found himself growing ever more intrigued by her.

The winter wind whipped clothing, biting the skin and sinking bone-deep. Like most discomfort, Adar was used to it. He knew every survival method - one did not live for thousands of years without picking up a few helpful practices. His children had followed his example, but it was a bit harder for the Humans among them to find comfort.

Truly, though, the only one he cared about was his lady...his brave, determined lady. He remembered her looking up at him the better part of a year ago when she was forced to the ground before him. Curiosity and recognition was as obvious in her expression as the points on an Elf's ears.

Even after he'd taken their village, she hadn't hated him. She hadn't denied having sworn for him, even though that had been a lie he concocted to keep her safe and unblemished.

Seeing that remnant of his armor hanging from a chain around her neck had inspired more pride and awe in him than he'd felt in an Age. Adar had assumed that even if her father had given it to her, it was so small and insignificant that she wouldn't have bothered to keep track of it. But for her to have turned it into a necklace... The thought still sparked a wave of warmth in the Uruk's heart.

Had their encounter truly been that memorable to her?

As the bitter winter held the camp in its grip, residents and all, Adar walked amongst his children and sworn Human villagers alike, noting those things which were needed most. He turned a corner between rows of tents and half-built houses and paused at the sight of his lady and Glûg discussing the babe in the Uruk's arms. After a few moments, his lady let out a small laugh, and Glûg let out a rasping chuckle before departing with a small bow.

Before he could behave as if he'd been doing anything - anything at all - besides watching them, she turned and Adar's eyes met hers. Approaching without hesitation, she curtsied and greeted him with her customary 'good day, my lord.'

Dropping into his own low bow, Adar offered her his arm.

"Walk with me, if you would, my lady," he murmured, and she looped her arm with his. "How would you characterize the mood amongst your people here?"

They walked a few steps, she considering her answer, and he marveling at how easily they fit together. Having her at his side felt natural, as if that was where she was always meant to be.

"They are under strain, because of the winter temperatures. Perhaps they are a bit more frightened than usual, but nothing too serious," she replied. "They seem to have settled into their new routine along with your children quite well, considering the circumstances."

"And what of your own circumstances? What can I do to ease your burden?" He asked as they reached the door of her shelter.

"I can think of nothing, my lord." Adar did not believe that, but he did not contradict her, choosing instead to accept her invitation inside.

"Allow me, at least," he said as he stepped inside, "to check your supplies. Firewood and the like."

"Of course," she murmured, waving him inside. One of the other ladies who shared her living space had already lit a fire in grate, and as soon as they saw Lord Adar walk inside, they quickly found other places to be.

Pretending to take a cursory view around the room, Adar slyly watched his lady move around, tidying up, even though the messes had clearly been created by the others. That he did not like, but that was a problem for a later date.

"Are you certain there is nothing I can do to improve your situation?" He asked, and she flashed him a smile bright enough to make his heart skip a beat.

"Nothing, whatsoever. I'm quite comfortable here," she said walking to stand with him beside the fire. He took a long, selfish moment to indulge his desire to study her face. When his desire to reach out and touch her grew so strong that he felt he might snap, he drew and released a deep breath.

"Thank you for your indulgence, my lady. I shall leave you in peace."

Adar gave her a small bow before making his way toward the door.

"Oh, wait! Please, my lord," she called, and he turned to face her. She pulled a length of cloth from a bundle, hurrying over to him.

A familiar sense of dread curled in his abdomen. He'd been betrayed before in moments of weakness - seeing her this evening was certainly a weakness. The cloth would make a suitable garrote for a person of her size to use. Steeling himself as she approached, he realized that, though he wouldn't be surprised, her betrayal would hurt more than any other had.

He met her eyes with his as she stood on the tips of her toes to wrap the cloth around his neck...but the constriction he'd been expecting never came. Instead, she tied it carefully, tucking the ends into his armor so they wouldn't flap around in the wind.

Adar's gauntlet-covered fist relaxed as his defensiveness was replaced with confusion. He was certain that he must look as utterly befuddled as he felt, but the little smile that settled upon her lips as she examined her handiwork stole his breath.

"There. That should keep you a little warmer, at least. We cannot have the Lord of Mordor freezing, now can we?" She asked when her fingers finally fell away from the chestplate of his armor. Adar found speech difficult for a long moment. She cared for his comfort?

How was one supposed to tell someone that they'd expected death's shadow only to find kindness instead? How could he possibly explain to someone like her that at the sight of a simple makeshift scarf, he'd coiled himself as tightly as a warrior preparing to be struck without a shield or sword to defend himself? She was so considerate that she would blame herself for unsettling him, he had no doubt.

No, to say nothing would be better. Perhaps...perhaps later.

Lifting her hands gently in his own, he laid soft kisses upon her knuckles. He dared not look away. Not now. This moment was crucial - whether for just him or for them both, he knew not.

"Thank you, dear lady," he breathed, and as his eyes searched hers, he saw what he normally did in her: warmth. However, this time he saw more. There was warmth, yes, but there was also gentleness, protectiveness, and a sort of satisfaction about him not tearing the scarf from his throat - he would never do such a thing. Not when it was from her.

When he finally stepped outside once more, the wind was unable to sink its frozen teeth into his neck. The fabric, worn and discolored with age, was soft, caressing his scarred skin just as he imagined her fingers would if she ever deigned to lower herself and take him as her lover.

Her generosity made him only that much more determined to find some way to make life easier for her. For nearly a week, he was kept too busy to give the matter any serious consideration, but he did have an idea.

While she was occupied, Adar slipped into her shelter. He wished to find a way to repay her for her kindness, thus his goal was to find one of her unfulfilled needs and provide for her. He was already able to ensure that she received enough food and water, and she deserved more than he could ever give her, but he was willing to try.

After a few moments of searching, he noticed the blanket in her little sleeping area. It was thin, full of holes, and practically falling apart. It was the only one he could see.

His heart clenched in his chest. She must be nearly frozen during the night, yet she had still seen fit to give him her scarf? The growing dampness of tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them away. How had she made it through the winter?

At least he could fix this for her.

Picking up the tattered blanket, he strode across the camp to find a replacement. Laying it atop a pile with other bits of cloth that needed to be repurposed, he found a stack of extra blankets. He'd already ensured that all of his children had enough to keep them warm, so one extra would not be missed.

He hastened back to her shelter, closing the door nearly silently behind him, but he quickly realized that he was not alone.

"My lord?" She called from her place beside the cold hearth. She was trying to light a fire with trembling hands. Walking over to her, Adar tucked the blanket beneath his arm and gently coaxed the flint and steel from her cold fingers.

Kneeling briefly, he struck the flint and steel once, twice, and carefully encouraged the flame to grow until a warm glow illuminated the room. When he stood again, he grasped her hands and rubbed them between his palms. He would not be content to leave her until he was certain that she would not freeze in the night.

She looked up at him in wordless wonder, and he knew for certain that his own expression had to be similar.

"Thank you, my lord," she said in barely a whisper, and in reply, he unfolded the blanket he'd brought. Though it was not nearly as soft as someone like her deserved, he knew it would hold the heat much better than her old one. Adar draped it around her shoulders, and, sweet, trusting thing that she was, she made no protest about his proximity, nor did she flinch when the backs of his knuckles caressed her cheek.

She looked from him, to the blanket, and back again. Without warning, she sprang forward, wrapping her arms around his middle, but where he usually expected the bite of a dagger after such an impact, he found only comfort. He realized that she...was embracing him.

He looked down at her, only to find his nose buried in her hair. Her scent! He'd smelled it before, but to have her this close...it was intoxicating. Carefully bracing his hands on her waist, he leaned down a little farther. The tip of his nose brushed against her warm neck, and he could almost smell her pulse racing beneath her skin.

His nose must've been cold, for that small movement was enough to startle her into leaping back. His fëa, dark and fractured as it was, wept at the loss of her, even though she'd only been in contact with him for a moment.

It had been so long since he'd been held like that.

Alarm settled into her expression and she began stammering apologies. Her new blanket slipped from one shoulder, and without a word, Adar stepped toward her and pulled it back into place.

Her voice dropped away as she realized what he was doing. His hands laid lightly upon her shoulders, sliding slowly upward until he was able to cup her cheeks carefully between his scarred fingers. Her eyes, now wide with wonder rather than fear, looked up at him.

"You have done nothing which warrants an apology, my lady," Adar murmured giving her small smile. She was so beautiful, so fragile compared to him. He would risk no injury coming to her. Not even the discomfort of the abating cold; slowly, their breaths became less visible as the fire grew in the hearth. "Why did you not tell me about the state of your blanket?"

"I did not wish to trouble you, my lord," she answered sheepishly. "I had already requested a replacement from the head of the Men in our section, but I was told I'd have to speak with Waldreg. Given my previous encounters with him, I...decided that the cold was preferable."

Disquiet twisted within him. Waldreg was distasteful enough without having caused his lady trouble. He was quite certain he'd tear the little worm of a Man limb from limb with a grin on his lips if he dared harm his lady.

Adar would have to speak with him about that.

"Has he mistreated you?" He tried to keep his tone as steady as possible, but a slight edge still managed to creep in.

"He expressed a few less than polite sentiments, but no more. It is not a crime for him to dislike me, my lord," she said, but her attempt to calm his ire only made him angrier on her behalf. Would she not express her anger even at someone as wretched and cruel as Waldreg?

"In future, come directly to me. You need not be afraid. I would be pleased to assist you, my lady," he promised, and his heart stuttered as she nodded her head.

As soon as he left her shelter, he sought Waldreg. The miserable little rat had much to answer for.

--

As the winter winds began to wane, I found myself increasingly glad of Lord Adar's kindness. Not shivering through the night was a pleasant change. I'd thought that after our conversation he seemed rather tense, but thus far I had seen no results.

However, as I returned from harvesting a small bunch of mushrooms for the soup that night, a vicelike grip clamped around my arm, tugging me off balance and dragging me into the small, dark alleyway between two repurposed buildings.

A hand covered my mouth just as a knifepoint pressed cold and unyielding against my racing pulse.

"You vicious little bitch," a familiar voice snarled against my ear. "What lies did you tell him? How did you make him hate me?"

I whimpered but dared not move for fear of the sharp steel at my throat.

"'You will not treat my children or those pledged to me with disrespect,' he said. He's had me shoveling shit in the kennels for weeks, and word around camp is that he only came to me after speaking with you!" Waldreg sounded furious, and, indeed, I could detect the lingering scent of the wargs' leavings clinging to my attacker and his clothing. The more agitated he grew, the more his hands shook. Pain pricked my skin, and a hot red tear trickled down my throat staining the neckline of my dress. "What'd you do? Lift your skirt for him? Whisper in those ragged little ears of his? Give me one good reason I shouldn't gut you here and feed you to the wargs."

I began struggling in earnest, but his anger kept his grip tight. Still his hand covered my mouth, preventing any attempts at speech. A cruel laugh trickled across my ears, and he dragged his knife downwards until it rested directly above my heart.

"I thought not." I tried to cringe away, but that accomplished nothing save fueling the cruel old bastard's amusement as tears rolled down my cheeks. "Say goodnight!"

Instead of the bite of a blade, however, I was abruptly released. A gurgling sound came from behind me, and when I turned, I saw Lord Adar's gauntlet-covered hand lifting Waldreg off the ground by his throat. The cold glare on the Uruk's face revealed not a single mite of mercy for the Man thrashing in his grasp.

"My lady, go inside. I will join you in a moment," Adar called, and after a single shocked blink, I rushed off to do as he'd ordered. My basket lay in the mud, entirely forgotten amongst the chaos. A small crowd of Uruks had gathered around to witness Waldreg's demise and jeer at him, but I couldn't stay.

As terrible as he was, I didn't want to. Trembling, I closed the door after myself and stumbled toward my sleeping space. Quickly wrapping the blanket Adar had given me around my shoulders, I tried to steady my breathing instead of listening to the commotion outside.

I had no idea how long I'd been sitting there when the crowd fell silent and the door finally opened. Terrified that Waldreg had somehow survived and was coming to seek his revenge, I backed into the corner beside the hearth and tried to stay as small as possible.

I had no weapons with which to fight. Hiding would be my only chance to survive, especially if Adar had not been able to stop him.

--

"My lady?" Adar's voice called gently into the space, though he saw no sign of her. He spotted a small movement from the far side of the hearth. Why was she hiding? Her eyes were wide and fearful, even as he approached.

Suddenly, her assertion about Waldreg expressing 'a few less than polite sentiments, but no more' felt grossly incorrect. If she was this frightened, he must've threatened her.

Adar hoped that she heard him screaming his apologies before his death.

Or...could it be that he'd finally managed to frighten her with his cruelty? That thought sent a bolt of icy dread through him.

Dropping silently to his knees beside her, he unclipped his gauntlet and dropped it beside him. He wouldn't dare touch her while wearing it after it had touched that scum, not without cleaning it first. He offered her his hand, afterwards, and she accepted it without hesitation.

She needed no coaxing to come to him, shuffling over and resting before him on her knees with her blanket still around her shoulders.

"You need not fear, my lady. He will haunt your steps no more," he murmured, and the relieved little sniffle that escaped her had Adar moving closer and gently brushing her tears away with the pads of his thumbs.

His skin was rough, but he was careful. He didn't want to hurt her, or for her to fear him. She had every right to after she'd seen him lifting Waldreg off the ground in the midst of his rage. He certainly would not blame her, but he did not want that. If ever she shrank away from him as she'd tried to do from that contemptible worm earlier, he thought his heart may shatter irreparably.

So, with the most soothing tone he could muster - one he'd not used in over an Age - he placed a gentle kiss upon her brow and spoke.

"You are safe with me, híril vuin. None shall raise a hand to you again." Carefully, he pulled the edge of the blanket away just far enough to see the small trail of dried blood from where she'd been cut. Regret was as foul upon his tongue as bile.

He should have found them sooner. Moving away only long enough to fetch a pitcher of water and a cloth, Adar sat close to her upon his return. He began to wipe her skin clean in slow, careful strokes, murmuring quiet, earnest praise for how brave she'd been and for trusting him to help her.

She rested her cheek upon his shoulder as he set the cloth aside, prompting him instinctively to wrap his arms around her and brace his chin atop her head.

"Thank you, my lord," she breathed, and he was acutely aware of his own heart racing in his chest. Could she hear its rhythm even with the chestplate of his armor in the way?

As he began to tell her that he'd done no more than his duty, the door to her shelter opened, revealing the three other ladies who shared the small space with her. Adar grated at the interruption, despite their low curtsies as soon as they caught sight of him holding his lady in his arms.

"Sleep elsewhere tonight," he ordered them, and once they'd departed, he let out a tense breath. Speaking then to his lady, he softened his tone once more. "Tomorrow, I shall have you moved to chambers befitting one of your station."

She blinked beautifully up at him, dampness clinging to her lashes like dewdrops in the early morn.

"'My station,' my lord?"

A slow smile stretched his lips.

"Indeed. If you are to serve at the right hand of the Lord of Mordor, you cannot be seen huddling in the corner of a ruined shack."

Her eyes went wide, and her lips parted in a near-silent gasp.

"A-At your right hand?"

He nodded his head in confirmation.

"Assuming that such a thought appeals to you, of course," he said, but the smile that lit up her face told him all that he needed to know about her enthusiasm.

--

The next morning, I awoke wrapped in Lord Adar's arms and the blanket he'd given me. I should've felt embarrassment, but I could muster no more than a groggy sense that I was exactly where I was meant to be.

As soon as we managed to peel ourselves from the ground, we gathered my meager possessions, and Adar led me to the tavern. He had ruled from there since day one, but I hadn't been aware until that moment that he'd been living there as well. I supposed that his choice made sense. The upper level was where the owner used to live, having the benefit of a bedroom and a small bathing room complete with a claw-foot tub.

"Unless you object, we shall be sharing the bedroom," he explained as we climbed the creaky wooden staircase. "I'm afraid that there was little more than a musty mattress here to begin with, so I'll have a second bedroll brought up today. If there is anything you require once you have settled in, please do not hesitate to tell me."

"Thank you, my lord," I replied, and as I set myself up on one side of the room directly across from his own sleeping area, one of his children called him away to handle a conflict on the other side of the camp.

Late that night, I walked into the small communal area where Lord Adar sat by the fire, gazing into its depths as if it held the answers to all of his questions. Not wishing to disturb his thoughts, I began to move away, but a quiet call of my name in that deliciously raspy voice of his froze me in place.

"Is everything to your satisfaction, my lady?" He called, and I turned to find his gaze already fixed on me.

"Yes, my lord," I murmured, "thank you for allowing me to stay here."

"The pleasure is mine. Come, warm yourself by the fire," he offered, and I dropped to my knees on the furs beside him. We sat in companionable silence for a while with only the crackling of the fire in the grate reaching our ears. "Something troubles you, does it not?"

I nodded my head and he tilted his own beside me.

"Tell me." Despite his soft tone, the command made me bite my lip.

"I...My lord, given the new position with which you have honored me, I believe it..." I stumbled over the words, eventually taking a deep breath to compose myself. "Would it not be inappropriate for me to continue in this particular role without having sworn my loyalty to you?"

The question came out in a breathless rush, but Adar either did not notice over the hissing of the fire or he was too polite to comment upon it.

"So far as all the others are concerned, you did so before we ever took your village." His eyes skimmed the length of my face as he spoke. "As you will recall, I promised you that I would not force you to do so."

"And you have kept to your word," I began. "I have not felt coerced. I offer my loyalty to you freely."

Adar sat up straighter and drew in a sharp breath.

"You only need do so if you truly wish for us to be bound," he said placing his hand softly atop mine where it rested amongst the furs. His eyes searched mine as if trying to determine whether I was serious.

"I'm certain, my lord," I said, and he, apparently finding what he was looking for, gave a solemn nod of his head.

"Very well. As with your kin, Black Speech is not a language known to you, thus I will not require your vow in that tongue," he murmured, and I couldn't stop the question that fell from my lips.

"Would it be possible to learn at some point?"

Adar smiled, a mix of pride and surprise playing across his features in the glowing, flickering light of the fire.

"I shall teach you personally, híril vuin," he promised, and his expression became more serious. "Have you ever sworn loyalty to another?"

"No, my lord."

"Do you recall the words being spoken during the oaths of fealty given by your people?"

"Yes, my lord." I bowed my head, intending to show my respect in that manner, but warm, gentle fingers grasped my chin and lifted my head back up. Adar's gaze met my own, and unless the firelight was deceiving me, I saw a soft sort of affection swimming in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Before all else, I wish you to swear that you will never bow to me unless I explicitly give you the order to do so," he rasped as his thumb brushed over my lower lip.

"I swear it, my lord. I will not bow to you unless you give me the order to do so." Having extracted that promise, he seemed satisfied to allow me to continue as I had been. His fingers fell away from my chin only to grasp my own and lay them atop his chest where beneath his heart lay beating. "I hereby swear my allegiance to you, Adar, Lord-Father of the Uruks, founder of the land of Mordor...and protector of mortal children silly enough to wander the forest alone. This I pledge from now until the last breath leaves my body."

Adar listened with something akin to wonder in his eyes, and when I finished, his gaze strayed down to my lips. But...something seemed off.

"Is...something amiss, my lord? I could always use different words, if you prefer...?"

He shook his head quietly.

"There was no fault in your diction."

"Then...what troubles you?" I asked, unconsciously repeating his own words from earlier. He shifted before me, as if he was bothered by what he was about to say. Regretful, perhaps?

"An oath means little on its own," Adar murmured unsheathing a small knife that he'd apparently concealed upon his person. "Only blood can bind."

Whose blood did he mean? Did he want me to use it on myself? Did he wish to use it on me? Or did he want me to use it on us both?

An idea struck me, and I grasped my necklace in the palm of my left hand. Carefully, I set his knife aside, guiding his gauntlet-covered hand over mine. Looking into his eyes, I felt the unyielding metal dig into the soft skin of my hand. Without warning, I squeezed his hand, which in turn forced the sharp, ancient metal deep enough into my skin to draw blood. As comprehension dawned in his eyes, his pupils dilated, and something resembling hunger turned his gaze into a blazing flame boring into me.

His hand released mine long enough for the pendant to fall from my grasp, and when he turned my palm upwards, twin gashes welled with blood. Swallowing heavily, Adar lifted my hand, and as his lips met crimson, his eyes sought mine.

A gasp tumbled from my throat as his tongue lapped slowly at my skin, just barely grazing the inner edges of the two weeping cuts. It stung, of course, but the pain combined with such a ravenous stare from the Uruk lord sent a wave of heat rushing between my legs.

A breathy, wanton whimper escaped me, and in a blink, I found myself on my back atop the furs with my lord straddling my hips. He pressed my bleeding palm against his cheek, and, bracing his free hand on the floor beside my head, Adar placed a line of fiery kisses along the column of my throat from hollow to chin with his blood-drenched lips.

I'd wanted him to look at me like this, to touch me and desire me like this, from the moment we were reunited, and now that he was, it was as though my very soul had been lit aflame. I wanted everything he wished to give me, and then some.

Before his mouth had the chance to claim mine, however, there was a rough knock on the door. Adar pulled back a few inches, and we stared into each other's eyes, panting together as reality sank back in and a second knock sounded.

"I think you ought to retire for the night, my lady," he rasped laying a final kiss upon my palm before getting to his feet. My blood was a dark red streak upon his face, but he seemed not to care. He called for whoever was at the door to wait a moment, taking the time to help me to my feet and bidding me goodnight before seeing to our caller. His lips were still the deep red shade of the life flowing through my mortal veins.

I hurried up the stairs to our shared sleeping space before I could see who'd interrupted us. With a quick glance into the cracked fragment of a mirror stowed in the corner of the room, I saw a sloppy, red trail where Adar's lips had been.

I didn't bother to clean it off before I crawled into my bedroll, choosing instead to slip my fingers beneath my smallclothes as I recalled the feeling of him doing as he wished with me. With a broken, muffled whine of his name against my blanket, I found completion, but a part of me wondered how much more satisfying it would have been had his fingers been in place of mine.

--

The next fortnight felt as though it was a specialized form of torture. Adar seemed to be called away by a never-ending series of problems that required solutions. Often his day began earlier than I awoke and ended long after I'd retired to bed. Ensuring I'd completed every task he'd left for me was the least I could do considering how busy his own position kept him.

Occasionally, we did still manage to sneak a meal or a short conversation with one another, but we had yet to discuss what had happened the night I pledged myself to him. Almost every night, the memory of the hunger in his eyes drove me to desperation, haunting my dreams and forcing me to muffle my cries as I tended to my own burning desire.

One of the few times he returned before I fell asleep, I'd just whimpered his name into my pillow. As he ascended the staircase, I heard his footsteps, and I tried to muffle my shame as it was too late to stop entirely. The fear of discovery lanced through me as I heard him approach the door. I tried to steady my breathing, and hoped that in the low lighting, he would not notice how disheveled I looked.

Either I was successful, or he was in a sadistic mood, because he sidled over to his own bedroll and began stripping down. I'd seen him without the armor before, but when he shucked off his upper garments, the sight of his scarred, toned torso was enough to make me bite my tongue to stifle a gasp.

The outline of his masculinity in his trousers as he laid his clothing in a neat pile sent a fresh wave of wetness soaking my inner thighs. Oh, how was I meant to sleep after seeing...that?

Adar laid down, and just when I thought he'd fallen asleep, his voice broke through the silence.

"Sweet dreams, my lady." I could hear the teasing smile in his voice.

Oh. My cheeks burned at the realization that he'd likely heard me.

"...Good night, my lord," I murmured, hating how shaky I sounded.

--

Spring changed very few things in Mordor, save the temperatures, yet with each passing day, Adar's lady seemed to smile just a little wider.

He wanted to give her more reasons to do so, however. It was not enough that they had been living in close quarters since that night in her shelter. It was not enough that he'd made her smile and laugh before. Adar needed to do it again.

But more than that, he needed to hear those things which it was not at all civilized to consider. It was not enough that he had tasted her blood and her skin and her racing pulse. He'd heard her make beautiful, pleasure-filled sounds when she thought he was out of earshot or asleep. But it was never enough. He needed to hear her moan his name, to see her arch her back beneath him in the throes of ecstasy. He needed her.

Teasing her had been as much a torture for him as it likely was for her. Adar had become addicted to pain in one form or another over the millennia, and the mental strain of denying himself the pleasure of her touch was not unfamiliar, but it was forcing him to a breaking point, nonetheless. He knew that he would likely snap as he had when she'd sworn him her loyalty. That rush had been like a dam releasing an unstoppable flood, his hunger turning him into a ravenous beast.

She hadn't minded, as he thought she might. She'd enjoyed it. The sight of her lying beneath him panting as her blood practically dripped from his lips made him achingly hard each time he dwelled upon the memory for too long.

Still, she deserved better. Better than him, better than a moment of animalistic need. He found himself wondering about how best to give her all of himself.

Adar supposed that was how he'd ended up in the doorway of the small bathing room. The claw-footed tub was filled with steaming water as he'd ordered, and relaxing within it was his lady. She'd deserved a moment of peace after having completed every single task he'd given her with such dedication. It was a small reward, hardly as much as she deserved, but at the moment, it was all he could give.

He tried not to allow his gaze to drop beneath the water's surface, but his restraint was weak after the last two weeks of self-imposed denial. Truly, he intended merely to check that she was well, but the temptation of seeing her soft skin dripping with hot water was too great. The Lord of Mordor lingered in the doorway just long enough to feel his lower garments grow tight, and for her eyes to meet his as his lust clawed at his restraint.

As a moth drawn to a flame, he found himself walking slowly into the room, summoned by her curious gaze. The hot water reached her collarbones, and Adar felt the urge rising within him to claim her.

He knelt beside the tub, his face mere inches from her own, and removed his armor, gauntlet and all. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and dipped a washcloth into the hot water. The back of his hand brushed against the swell of her breast, and they both let out quiet gasps.

Still, Adar refused to look down into the depths of the sage blossom oil scented water. Wringing the washcloth out until it was just wet enough for him to clean his face, he began to do so, only for his lady to take it from his hands. With her breasts pressed up against the side of the tub, her soft, gentle fingers held his head in place as she carefully wiped away the grime.

Without a word, he turned his head and kissed her palm where twin scars were already forming. Adar would've preferred that she spill his own blood - that was what he'd originally intended - but since she'd chosen that pain, the least he could do was show the proper amount of reverence for her actions.

"Is there anything you need, Adar?" Her voice was shaky and breathless as it so often was when he caught her off-guard.

"No. This night is for you. Relax as long as you wish," he murmured, but as he stood to leave her in peace, he noted that she tried valiantly to hide her disappointment. Without turning back - if he did, he might do something impulsive - he called over his shoulder, "Patience, my lady, and you shall have all that you desire."

His hardness did not abate until long after they'd settled into their bedrolls and her breathing had evened out in the serenity of sleep.

Adar could not wait much longer. Her sweetness was as a siren's call to him.

Thus, his plan began to form. Once the spring was fully upon them, he approached her as he often did for conversation.

"My lady, I wonder if you might spare me a moment of your time?" He asked, and she smiled joyfully up at him - truly, that should not have made his heart stutter the way it did.

"Of course, my lord. You may have as much of my time as you desire," she replied, and oh, she had no idea what she was offering!

"Do you enjoy riding horses?"

She tilted her head curiously, but the way her smile widened had him mentally congratulating himself for selecting this particular tactic.

"I do, though, it has been quite some time since I've had the opportunity."

"Come," he urged offering her his hand. She didn't hesitate to take it. The feeling of her touch would be seared into his mind for as long as he lived. Drawing her close, he lowered his voice to a whisper. "I intend to steal you away."

Her lips parted in surprise, and just as he was about to apologize for his forthrightness, she squeezed his fingers in hers.

"I could not hope to be stolen by any more worthy." His breath hitched in his chest, and he tamped down the temptation to skip his plan entirely and take her atop his own sleeping furs. No. He'd been alive since before the waking of the world. He could wait a little longer.

"Then, maybe I should play the part...?" Adar suggested with a mischievous smirk. Before she could ask what he meant, he lifted her by the waist, tossed her over his shoulder - an action which tugged a surprised shriek from her lips - and carried her to his horse that way.

"My lord!"

"My lady!" He called back in answer as he felt her gentle, mortal hands lay across the back of his armor. Surely she knew he would never drop her?

Soon, he placed her atop his mount, and she giggled breathlessly at the situation. Her mussed hair and bright eyes lit a spark within his heart, and lower, not that he would admit it to any, save her. Swinging up easily, he settled in behind her, grasping the horse's reins in one hand and bracing the other over the softness of her diaphragm. As close as they were, he was in the perfect position to whisper in her ear.

"Fear not, my lady," he breathed, "you shan't fall."

One of her hands covered his, and he urged their horse forward. For nearly two hours they rode, crossing from ashen, desolate terrain into the gentle rolling grasses of the land beyond Mordor's fiery shadow.

The rhythmic roll of her hips against his became almost hypnotic. The Lord of Mordor he might be, but his restraint was still utterly devastated by her. They dismounted when they reached a meadow peppered with small saplings.

Tying their horse's reins to a sturdy one, Adar offered his lady his hand. The sun was just beginning to glow a gentle orange. It would set soon, and he greatly desired to see his lady bathed in starlight.

"It is no secret that I favor you, my lady," Adar began as they wandered leisurely amongst the blooming flowers, and that was the closest he'd ever come to an admission...to a confession of that nature. "Even the Uruks farthest from the center of our camp know that I...that you are under my protection."

"Indeed. I would say that is true," she agreed, clearly not certain at what point he was driving with his rambling. "I am honored beyond words to have your favor and protection, my lord–"

"Adar. Here - anywhere away from prying eyes and unwelcome ears - you may call me Adar," he corrected gently, and her fingers squeezed his in gratitude. "I brought you here today, because I wish to ask for your counsel."

"You shall always have it, Adar," she assured, "though, I am not certain what advice I could provide that would be wiser than your own. I have very little experience with war and strategy."

He stopped walking and turned to face her - a mistake, because she was almost ethereally encompassed by the warmth of the sunset. He swallowed heavily to recover his voice.

"It is not war about which I require your thoughts," he began, bringing her hand to his ruined lips. "I have lived in shadow for so long, yet recently I have found myself prey to a feeling which I have not experienced in many Ages."

She tilted her head curiously.

"What might that be?"

Adar reached gently toward her with his free hand, cupping her cheek.

"Love," he rasped, looking into her eyes, hoping she would catch the meaning within his words. Admitting that a horrid creature like him had fallen head over heels for a beautiful being like her was tantamount to sacrilege. Yet...in several instances, he believed that he'd seen his own affection reflected in her eyes. Indeed, the moans he'd heard from her would seem to indicate that she desired him.

But it was too much to hope that she could love him. He was certain she desired him, but...love? Could a Human woman truly love an Uruk when the rest of her kind looked down on them in scorn and disgust? Had he been a fool to bring her here?

She stepped closer to him, looking up into his eyes–

Her expression stole his breath. He had not hung the stars in the sky, nor had he wrought treasures like the Silmarils. He had not created even a single thing of beauty. All he'd done was try to give his children a home.

And yet...she looked at him as though he was more worthy of praise than the most virtuous of kings, the most honorable of knights, and the most devoted of husbands. Could it be possible?

Could she...?

"I am afraid that I have little experience with love, Adar, but I will help if I can." As afraid as he might be of losing her, he must speak now or lose her forever.

"In your opinion, who is worthy of love?" He asked, and she let out a small huff of laughter, as if the question was a foolish one. "Have I said something amusing?"

"A bit," she admitted, but she was quick to place her free hand over his heart, "but not in the way you might think. Everyone is worthy of love, even - and, perhaps, most especially - the Lord-Father of the Uruks."

Was he truly so transparent that she could see his fears so easily? Or had she managed to worm her way so far into his heart without his knowledge that it was already a bosom companion to her own?

"...And you have it." His eyes snapped back up to hers - when had he looked away? His hunger and adoration for her rose up in a great wave, consuming him from the inside as he wove his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and drew her into a passionate kiss.

He'd dreamed of having her pressed up against him, of drinking her pleasure from her lips.

She moaned into Adar's mouth, and he was struck by the realization that she was so much better than any phantom images that his imagination could conjure. He dragged his lips and teeth to the corner of her jaw, and spoke in a hoarse, rasping whisper.

"I need you as I need air, meleth-nin." He grasped her waist as her arms drew him ever closer. "You steal my breath, yet without you I cannot breathe. Have mercy...Have mercy upon your most devoted servant..."

As the orange sky bled pink, his lips trailed down her neck, savoring those places which had driven him to the edge of madness when he sampled her before the fire. His name escaped her lips on the back of a desperate whine.

"What do you need? Tell me," Adar breathed, and she tilted her head to offer him more of her neck.

"Take me, touch me, please! I'll be good, so good, only for you," she begged, and the sound went straight to the stiffening length between his legs. He would love nothing more than to have her beg for him all night, but this time she would have no need to. Tonight, the beginning of their time as one, he would fulfill her every desire with a minimum of teasing. He'd done too much of that of late.

Her fingers dove into his hair, and a moan poured from his throat, rumbling against her pretty skin.

"Is that what you want? Do you wish to be a good girl for me?" She released a varied stream of yeses and pleas for him to do as he wished with her, and he acceded to her request with a kiss, quelling any doubt she may have had that he would do this for her. He would do anything for her, even unto the destruction of Middle Earth. "Do you wish to be mine?"

"Yes!" Her answer was akin to a desperate sob, and he wasted no time, immediately indulging her.

Tugging his cloak from his armor, Adar spread it over the grass. He would not have her dress covered in stains, nor grass blades stuck to her skin. The cloth created a sharp contrast - an onyx patch amidst a sea of pinks, purples, reds, and yellows - the dark to the meadow's light, just as she was the light to his darkness. She completed him, enthralled him, drove him mad, and tonight he would show her just how much.

She went for the ties fastening her dress, but he caught her hands in his and took over. She was a gift more precious than anything which the Valar could bestow upon their servants, and he would unwrap her accordingly.

As the laces binding the back of her dress fell away one at a time, Adar explored his lover's mouth with all the tenderness and gentleness that his cruel, twisted body could muster. He hadn't even realized that her tricky little fingers had begun to fiddle with his armor until his breastplate fell away.

In a flurry of discarded garments, they were each revealed to the other in all their beauty and all their flaws. Their shared vulnerability stilled their hands for an anxious moment, but only for a moment.

Adar's breath hitched in his chest when the soft lips he'd tasted mere seconds before connected with the scarred flesh over his heart. He'd expected pity, fear, regret - not reverence. Instead, as she looked up at him, he saw nothing but sincerity in her expression.

"You are gorgeous," she said, as though she could not tell that he had but one part of his body which was untouched by scars.

...As though she meant it. He realized with a sharp intake of breath that she did. She grasped his hands and they sank onto his cloak together, she on her back and he kneeling between her legs. His interest jutted toward her, but he could not find it within himself to be ashamed, not when he was with her. Not when a piece of his armor hung on a chain around her neck, resting comfortably above her breast.

"There is no beauty finer in this world than yours."

Spread nude before him over his cloak, Adar's lady looked up at him with an adoration he had not believed possible. Not when directed at an Uruk such as he. His lips met hers once more, but this time, he forced himself to be much more controlled. He wanted her, yes, but he also wanted her to know that she had his love.

Kissing his way steadily down her body, the Lord-Father of the Uruks had no doubt that he must look as hungry for her as he felt. Practically feral with pent-up desire, he needed her writhing on his tongue. His hands trembled with the effort it took to slow his movements, to take his time.

Abruptly, as his eyes met hers from between her legs, he realized that she very much had the capacity to destroy him. With a single declaration of hatred or a look of disgust, she could easily take his stone heart and pulverize it into powder.

How easily could she shred beyond repair what little remained of his soul!

Not even Morgoth had been able to do that. This mortal woman, this sweet, brave lady had no idea of the power that she possessed. The smart thing to do - the strategically wise path - would have been to kill her then and there while she lay vulnerable and trusting before him, begging for one more touch, one more kiss, one more moan, one more scrap of his attention.

Instead, he picked up his discarded gauntlet and slid her much smaller hand inside it. The clasps were quick work, and though she looked confused at first, once he lifted her thighs over his shoulders and guided her hand to his hair, understanding dawned in her eyes. She understood. He wanted her to feel powerful. She was his equal and she deserved to know it.

Even with sharp, unyielding metal covering her fingertips, they scraped so gently over his scalp as he lost himself in the flood between her thighs. She moaned and whimpered, squirming in his hold, but through it all, she never once hurt him.

Adar knew that she wouldn't. Even as she cried out his name for all the world to hear, drenching his tongue and chin, her grip in his hair was careful. Her thighs tensed in his grasp, squeezing his head in an intoxicating vice. Groaning and snarling against her sensitive folds, he couldn't bring himself to pull away until she was shaking in the midst of over-sensitivity.

"Adar, please," she breathed as he moved up her body. Hunger raged and burned in his eyes - he could deny himself no longer. Grasping her wrists, he pinned them easily above her head as he claimed her lips. His tongue delved into the softness of her mouth, taking with it the lingering taste of her.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him close enough for his tip to catch on her entrance. With synchronized groans, he pressed inside of her, joining their bodies together as one.

Profane language not meant for the ears of such a creature as her spilled from his throat in a guttural stream of Black Speech. Dipping his head, Adar moaned against her breast and surged forward, drawing a sinful mewl from deep within her throat.

"You have me. You take me so well," he praised in a raspy whisper, nibbling at her earlobe as he thrust into her slowly. Gradually, she stripped him of his sense and control, tugging from within him a steady flow of praise and filth in Elvish and Black Speech - promises to treasure her for the rest of his days, to protect her, and to draw from her so many screams each night that all of Mordor would be unable to deny his claim over her.

When she managed to roll her hips beneath him to meet his thrusts, begging him to use her, to ruin her, what could he do but grant his lady's wish?

In a quick movement, he'd repositioned them both so that she was astride his hips. Pulling her arms behind her back and tugging slightly so that her chest was pushed toward him, Adar looked into her eyes.

"If you wish your lord to use you, then move those hips," he ordered. Leaning in, he brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear and whispered a bit more gently to her. "Ride me, meleth. Show me that I have you."

She obeyed him instantly, finding a steady rhythm which, aided by his fingers toying with her clit, would have her tipping over the edge in mere moments. Indeed, her hips soon stuttered, and he gripped the back of her neck, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Do not look away. Look at the pleasure I can give you," he commanded, and as she nodded frantically, beginning to fall apart, he felt his heart stutter in his chest. "Yes, look upon the Uruk who loves you."

At that, she sobbed and collided firmly with her orgasm. She fluttered around his length, calling his name in lovelorn whimpers and gasps.

Who needed Valinor when she was its very embodiment?

He released her wrists, and she threw her arms around his neck, claiming his lips with her own. His hands slid down her back, landing squarely on her hips. Holding her steady, Adar thrust up into her, making her yelp in surprise. He needed very little now; he was close.

"Where do you wish me?" Adar breathed against her lips, and he could feel the heat burning her cheeks.

"Inside," she answered hiding her face against his neck, and he moaned against her shoulder. Her name tore from him in an almost pained whine as he spilled within her. He clutched her to him so tightly that he'd undoubtedly left bruises in his wake, but he would kiss them all in apology when they'd caught their breath.

Neither seemed eager to release the other, so in their embrace they remained exploring one another with gentle fingers and loving lips until long after the moon had risen and stars had winked their way into the sky. When he dared to lean back far enough to look into her eyes, Adar was met with love bathed in glittering starlight.

He wondered if he'd hurt her, but the smile stretching her lips said otherwise. The armor piece that she'd made into a necklace still rested upon the smooth expanse of her chest - a perfect accompaniment to his gauntlet upon her arm.

The ride back to camp seemed too short by far, but their bedrolls - which would soon be joined into one - called out to them so sweetly. Adar was used to the bows and deference he received from his children, but he knew in his heart that his decision had been right when upon their return he heard the Uruks repeating a particular phrase as they passed.

His lover had heard part of it before, but now there were a few more words to it.

"What is that they keep saying?" She whispered the question to him, and he couldn't keep himself from smiling proudly. "It sounds familiar, but different."

"'Tis Black Speech. They are saying 'make way for the Lord and Lady of Mordor,'" he answered kissing her temple as they approached their home.

~*~*~

Taglist:

@bigblissandlove1 @horta-in-charge @gandalfthepimp

[sansaorgana]

— DECEPTION (II)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — You only have a few days to convince Adar that he should keep you alive and choose you as his companion. You get to know him better, which makes you start feeling sorry for him – but not sorry enough to forgive him for defeating your lover. In the meantime, Adar's suspicions about Sauron's comeback give you hope.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hello! 🤗 Thank you for liking the first part of this story and I am sorry it's going a bit slower than I expected but I am job hunting at the moment and I might actually get one, which is an opportunity for me. Because of that, I was pretty busy those past few days + I have started a different multichapter fic as well. Please, keep your fingers crossed! 😊 Although, if I don't get the job, I will have more time for writing... 🤣 Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter! 🥰

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship

WORD COUNT — 5,120

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (II)

You spent the rest of the day in your chambers, watching the courtyard carefully from your window. The orcs were walking around it carefreely as if the saint trees did not grow there. They could not care less about anything holy. And at night they started a fire to sit around it while talking and laughing loudly in the most obscene manner. But because they went to sleep so late, they also were not up early – unlike you.

You got dressed in a black mourning gown, which was a beautiful piece made of velvet and lace. You were grieving in many ways after all – you were grieving your life that you could lose very soon and you were grieving the downfall of the fortress that had been your home for such a long time.

When you were finishing getting dressed, you looked out of the window and furrowed your brows at the sight of Adar approaching the holy trees and sitting on a bench underneath them. Was it possible that he prayed? You highly doubted that – even you were finding it difficult these days after the time you had spent with Sauron. An Elf as corrupted as Adar just could not pray, of that you were sure.

In that quiet moment in the early morning, you found your first chance to approach him but with a different attitude than on the day before. However, you were aware that the change of behaviour cannot be too sudden – otherwise, it would reek of falsehood.

Taking light steps, you walked up to Adar and even though he had to hear you coming, he did not even flinch. Only when you were very close to him, he turned his head around to look at you without a word. You did not say anything either and took a seat on the other side of the bench, clasping your hands on your lap and staring at the tree above you. He eventually stopped observing you and went back to looking at the tree as well.

“Do you pray to the Valars?” You asked calmly but with a hint of curiosity. Your eyes still remained on the benches of the tree, though. You refused to lock your eyes with him. Not yet.

Adar was not answering for a while, which made you grow nervous. But, thankfully, he eventually answered your question. Well, kind of.

“Do you?” He inquired without looking at you either.

“Nobody listens to my prayers,” you said, “but I like to come here and think.”

Adar nodded and the long silence occurred again. You were fidgeting with your fingers nervously throughout all that time but you didn’t mind him noticing that. You knew what kind of person you had to play – tough, mysterious and intriguing in a way. With a hint of darkness that would make him curious but also with a hint of innocence and nervousness that would make him feel compassion. You were sure he was still able to do it since he could treat the Orcs like children. You wanted him to pity you in a way – to pity you enough to keep you alive. And to intrigue him enough to make him want to keep you with him.

“You wore black today,” he pointed out with a smirk and finally looked at you. You turned your head around to meet his gaze and you felt your cheeks heating up. His eyes were intense and so far you caught yourself feeling all the things you wanted him to feel towards you – you were intrigued by him but you also felt sorry.

“I mourn Ostirith,” you informed him and watched his reaction but there was really none. He was as cold as a stone on the outside like he was on the inside.

Adar looked up at the benches with leaves. You looked there, too, following his gaze and from the corner of your eye, you spotted him staring at your exposed neck. You wondered what was going inside his head. Was a man like him ever thinking of women in the same way as other men did? Was he ever craving someone to be by his side? He had to be lonely.

Perhaps, you had to make him realise how much. And that he did not have to be anymore.

“What happened to you?” You broke the silence and looked at him again, which made him furrow his brows with a hint of anger. You expected this sort of reaction, so you quickly backed out. “Forgive me…” You lowered your voice and looked down, nervously.

You hoped he wouldn’t walk away and indeed – he did not. That was part of the success already, you thought. You waited patiently for his next move.

“Morgoth happened to me. Sauron,” Adar explained after a long while of silence. At the sound of your lover’s name, you felt shivers go down your body and you moved uncomfortably. You hoped he hadn’t noticed but why would he suspect you to know any of these men personally? You were only a naive daughter of the Lord Guardian of the Southlands.

“What do you mean?” You laid your eyes on him again and batted your eyelashes, trying to show him compassion with the way you looked at him. Adar hesitated before answering more of your questions.

“I followed Morgoth out of my own curiosity and thirst for knowledge and power. And then I paid the price,” he explained, sparing you the details. You wondered if it was because they were too painful to talk about or was it because he found you too delicate for them.

“Is it justified to blame them for your downfall, Lord Father?” You dared to ask. “Was it not your own pride and greed that caused it?”

Adar chuckled at that as he tilted his head to take a better look at you. You did not shy away this time, showing your inner strength.

“You are not afraid of me, my Lady,” he pointed out.

“Why would I be? I only have a week of life to live,” you reminded him. “For an Elf, that is nothing. It makes no difference to me if you kill me then or now.”

“Why would I kill you for asking questions?” Adar shook his head. “Curiosity is no stranger to me,” he added and looked away, sadly. You remained silent for another long moment, allowing him to make a decision if he should keep talking or not. “I know I have only myself to blame for what happened although I have to admit I was naive. I hoped for more than suffering. There was only pain,” Adar’s voice turned into a whisper and he looked away. 

You felt sorry for him now. You knew Sauron’s nature and you knew it was a result of Morgoth’s training of pain and suffering. You were not surprised to find out that your lover could inflict the pain on others as well. Everyone Morgoth had ever hurt turned out to be broken creatures who wanted nothing but revenge.

“Well, they are gone now, aren’t they? Morgoth and Sauron?” You asked, playing naive.

“Morgoth, surely. I cannot be completely convinced about Sauron. He is of a cunning nature. I have defeated him once but I shall defeat him again if I must,” Adar’s jaw clenched as he explained and your heart skipped a beat.

So there he was – the murderer of your beloved, right in front of you. And even though you hated him with every fibre of your being, you had to play it cool and bat your eyelashes, hoping to seduce him enough to make him want you as his companion.

But the fact that even Adar did not believe in Sauron’s disappearance from this world was giving you hope. He would come back… Of  that you were sure. He would come back and make you his Queen.

Adar’s eyes were filled with fire and hatred whenever he spoke of Sauron, so you didn’t want to continue this conversation for now. You nodded and you stood up to leave after hearing that some of the Orcs were already entering the sacred courtyard and approaching their Lord Father.

“I shall retire for now,” you explained. “It was a pleasure to talk with you, Lord Father.”

“You do not have to lie,” he snorted.

“I do not lie,” you lied. “You are different than what I thought. Forgive my rapid judgement but I was driven by fear. Have a good day, Lord Father,” you bowed your head and walked away.

On your way out of the courtyard, you walked past the filthy Orcs. You were trying your best not to flinch or wince as their eyes were following you with curiosity that was deeply uncomfortable. You did not want creatures of this sort to have any interest in you.

Even though you were trying to view them as any other species of Middle-earth, you simply couldn’t. They were too hideous and too disgusting. You knew how unfair was your judgement but you were sure that all Elves would agree when it came to the Orcs. And so would humans. Perhaps some species had only been created to make others feel unsettled.

You spent the rest of that day with your mother, cheering her up. You felt bad for her because she would pay for the sins she had not committed. You were not pure anymore and in many ways you deserved to die. Your father had turned out to be a vile creature of no backbone. But your mother was pure and innocent and she had been begging for you all to run away. She could have run away alone but she would never abandon her family. And now – because of how dutiful and loyal she was – she would die…?

You could not let that happen.

On the second day you were informed that Adar was in the library, looking through your father’s ancient collection of manuscripts. You pretended that you had not known about it and you entered the room very naturally, without paying any attention to your guest. You picked up some random volume and sat by the table, a few chairs away from the Lord Father. You were wearing your black dress again.

Adar looked up at you for a moment but when he realised you were not in the mood to talk, he just decided to ignore you as well. In the meantime, you were looking through the pages of the book you had chosen and pretended to read it in silence but in reality you were observing him from the corner of your eye.

“Are they your children because they remind you of yourself?” You asked all of a sudden while biting on your lower lip. Adar froze and looked up to lay his eyes on you. He did not say anything, so you explained. “They are damaged and do not belong with any other species. Nobody loves them but you because you know what it is like to not be loved at all,” you pointed out.

“Your father was right about your nature,” Adar cracked a smile. “You have a great intuition, my Lady,” he bowed his head to you and you smiled at his compliment. “That is not all, though. My children and I have more in common. We were all hurt by Sauron,” he explained.

“How?” You asked and titled your head.

“He wanted to enslave my children and use them like mindless tools but they are not… They deserve to live in freedom and peace,” Adar explained to you. In many ways, you felt as if he was your father who was explaining things to you in a gentle and soft manner. He was explaining to a naive daughter how the world worked.

But that was not the dynamic you were aspiring for.

“You speak of peace as if you haven’t burnt villages on your way. As if you haven’t killed the men and women who had denied to follow you. And those who had bent their knees, you have marked them like cattle. Do not talk about peace to me, intruder, when you are the one who brought the war to these lands,” you spat out and closed your heavy volume angrily.

The sound echoed through the walls as the dust raised up and danced in the air. When it fell down and the echo subdued, Adar spoke again.

“If we came in peace and asked for a piece of land to live there, would your people accept us?” Adar asked and you pursed your lips. You knew very well your answer would be a lie. Elves and humans would never accept the Orcs. Even the dwarves would not do that. “Some creatures are born with their right to live and others must fight for it,” Adar added and went back to the manuscripts.

The doors opened with a squeak and one of the Orcs entered the library. He was the one you had spotted many times before around the Lord Father and you assumed he was the closest to Adar.

The Orc took a step back at the sight of you and lowered his head a little. You could not blame him for that because you were staring at him with so much intensity and anger that it would intimidate many. Still, it felt oddly nice to see they respected you just because they could see that your kin was equal to their Lord Father. 

Despite Sauron’s corruption, you still were the bearer of the light. Nobody could tell just yet that the very root of this light was rotting deep inside of you. Especially not a common Orc. To him, you were the beacon in the middle of the ruins.

“What is it, my son?” Adar asked him but the Orc only shook his head, refusing to speak. You spotted his small eyes staring at you and you only smirked. “Do not fear her. She is a friend,” Adar explained and you furrowed your brows at that but you did not say anything.

“Well, then, my Lord Father, I just wanted to bring you the message from our scouts,” the Orc walked up to the table and handed Adar a small piece of paper.

“Thank you,” Adar took it from him gently and read it. The Orc kept staring at you with curiosity.

“I shall retire to my chambers,” you stood up and walked past them to approach the doors.

The Orc bowed his head down after you and Adar looked up at him with a furrowed brow.

“What are you doing, my son? She is not your master,” he pointed out but you didn’t hear the rest of the conversation because you walked out of the library. You wished to hear the rest of it but it would be too suspicious.

You wondered, though, why the Orcs really treated you this way. Perhaps it was not because of the light you were carrying – perhaps it was quite the opposite. What if it was them who could smell Sauron on you? Your lover had been the one who had tried to enslave them in the past. Sauron would never treat them like children and he would never be their father. He had wanted to be their master.

Seeing their fearsome and filthy army profanating your home, you somehow wanted to be their master, too. You understood Sauron now – having such an army could make you feel invincible. They respected nothing and they were hungry for blood. The only thing you could not understand was how Adar was able to trust his own children. Perhaps that should be the next question you would ask him.

On the third day you approached him in the courtyard again, still in the same black dress. This time he was sitting by the fire with the Orcs but when you walked up to him, you froze at the sight of a baby Orc sitting on his lap. You kept staring at this strange little creature with a mix of emotions – the baby was still innocent but it was not pure by any means. Because of its kin, it was doomed like the rest of them.

“Are you quite alright, my Lady?” Adar’s voice made you snap back to reality and you cursed yourself for not being the one to ask him a question first on that day.

“Yes, thank you, Lord Father,” you nodded and took a seat next to him that was empty. At the sight of you getting near the baby, the father approached Adar to take his offspring. It was the Orc from the library.

“He does not trust me,” you pointed out, although you would not trust yourself either if you were them.

“His name is Glûg,” Adar told you. “None of them trusts you. 

“Do you?” You asked and batted your eyelashes while laying your eyes on him. Adar turned his head around to look into your eyes but he was visibly confused, so you changed the tactic. “Do you trust them?”

“I do,” he nodded. “They are my children.”

“I would not trust them if they have so much in common with you,” you teased. “Do you trust yourself?”

“They are all I have,” Adar opened his hands to show you the emptiness of them.

“You are lonely,” your voice saddened as your eyes filled with compassion. It was forced but you were a trained actress and your greatest power was that no one knew about your studies or your teacher.

Adar did not like your insinuation. He moved uncomfortably and sighed as he shook his head.

“I thought higher of you, my Lady… But you are here to help your father’s agenda, are you not? You are trying to convince me,” he smirked. “I am not interested.”

“My father’s agenda is not my own. It has never been and never will be,” you clenched your jaw as your eyes filled with anger and hatred. You despised him being even mentioned and you had been successfully managing to avoid him those past few days. In fact, every reminder of being his daughter was making the blood in your veins boil. “I simply wanted to say I know what it is like to be lonely. I am, too. I have always been,” you looked into the fire, following the dancing flames with your eyes.

That was not a lie – not fully. There had been a time in your life when you hadn’t felt lonely and that was the time you had shared with Sauron. But it had not been a long time, especially compared to your whole long Elven life.

“It must be lonely for a young Elven woman to grow up in Ostirith,” Adar admitted. “Isolating.”

“It was,” you nodded, refusing to look at him again. You were scared that your current vulnerability would reveal your true self to him. “I understand you… In some ways. To have so many children, to be loved… That would surely feel good,” you admitted.

“No,” Adar shook his head. “You do not understand me. You would, if you were able to see them as your children, too. You would not preach to me about war and peace then but you would feel the need to protect them no matter what price,” he said.

“We protect what we love,” you agreed as you nodded. All you could think of was him – Sauron. Dying somewhere, all alone, killed by his own army, betrayed. And you had not been there to protect him but even if you had been… What would you do? You were not powerful enough to do anything but watch. “Even if it is a hopeless case,” you finished.

A short silence occurred and you could feel the Lord Father watching you with curiosity.

“My children are not a hopeless case,” he only said.

You stood up and wiped the single tear that had escaped your eyes before. The Orcs around the fire stopped their conversations and they looked up at you, observing your movements.

“I shall go to see my mother now,” you informed Adar and he nodded at you but you could feel his eyes following you out of the courtyard.

On the fourth day you wore a crimson red gown that had been a gift to you from Sauron. It was a risky move but your parents had believed it was a dress you had gotten yourself in Eregion so why would Adar question it? 

You felt somehow powerful while walking down the hallways of Ostirith with all the Orcs moving out of your way, staring at you with a mix of curiosity, hatred and respect. You were on your way out of the fortress because you had seen through your window Adar walking out earlier. He was probably taking a walk in the forest surrounding the fortress and you missed walking, too.

The Orcs standing by the gate did not want to let you pass, though.

“Lord Father says your family can’t leave,” one of them drawled out as he looked you up and down, pointing his dagger at you.

“I am going to him. To your Lord Father,” you tried to reason with him in a calm manner.

“I don’t believe you, Elf,” he spat out as if your kin was an insult.

“Let her go,” another voice interrupted you. You turned around and spotted Glûg. His small eyes found yours and nodded before looking down again. “Lord Father says Dark Lady is a friend.”

“Dark Lady?” You asked, surprised, but there was no time to question it because the Orcs standing by the gate hesitantly let you pass, so you just decided to use the opportunity to walk out of the fortress.

You knew they were observing you, so after crossing the bridge, you went down the same forest path you had seen Adar taking before. But when you found yourself deeper inside the woods, you actually considered taking another turn and disappearing forever.

Where would you go, though? To Gil-galad? He would immediately sense the darkness inside of you because he was made of pure light himself. And you would never forgive yourself for abandoning your mother.

No, because of her you had to follow the same path Adar had chosen. And so you did, until you found yourself by the cliff. He was sitting on the edge and staring at the Southlands below him. Those were the lands he still had not conquered.

He looked up when he heard your footsteps but he did not question how you had managed to get out of Ostirith.

“Are you not mourning anymore?” He asked at the sight of your dress.

“I have accepted my fate,” you took a seat next to him and took a deep breath at the sight of the Southlands. “Are you going to conquer it all?”

“If I must,” Adar nodded and you looked at his hands. He was holding a piece of paper there like the one Glûg had brought to him on the second day.

“Why do you send the scouts? What news do they bring?” You bit on your lower lip. You were not scared of asking questions anymore because he was not angry at you for being curious, which he had proven already.

“I have reasons to believe that Sauron is back,” Adar looked at you and you flinched. Thankfully, he must have taken that reaction as fear or disgust instead of blooming hope inside of your chest.

“And what about it?” You raised your eyebrow.

“I shall destroy him again. And again and again until my children are safe,” he answered with anger as his eyes filled with rage. Sauron was his weak spot.

“You hate Sauron more than you love your children,” you risked the statement. “You would do anything to avenge what he did to you, no matter the cost. Many of your children will die while you chase him,” you explained.

“I shall not watch him turn my children into slaves!” Adar squeezed his fist with the paper inside of it. His anger did not scare you, though. Somehow, the news about Sauron made you feel more fearless and more peaceful. Everything would be alright, all the pieces were coming together.

“Because if he does… You will be alone again. All alone,” you only pointed out softly and you stood up to walk away and go back to the fortress. “But you do not have to be.”

“Why would you follow me if not to save your life?” Adar asked and you froze after turning around already. You smiled to yourself nervously.

“Why do your children call me a Dark Lady?” You asked.

“They have not met an Elf like you before. You are different. Dark,” Adar explained.

“And you?” You turned your head around, confused.

“I am an Uruk,” he explained and you nodded.

“If I died now, I would still see Valinor. It would heal me and save me,” you revealed, “if I followed you, I would be doomed forever. Following you is not cowardice. It is an act of courage and a sacrifice.”

“Why?”

“I have always wanted more,” you admitted and turned your head around again to take the first step towards the forest but Adar wanted to ask one more question before you would go:

“If you could save only one person out of the whole fortress, who would it be?”

You did not hesitate with your answer. She was the reason for this all.

“My mother,” you told him.

On the fifth day you were sitting in the courtyard on the bench under the holy trees while the Orcs were sitting behind you by the fire. You could feel their eyes observing you but they were not bothering you and you were not bothering them. You were waiting for their Lord Father to join them to continue your game. You knew that you were running out of time.

Sitting there and looking up at the leaves, you were lost in your thoughts. You sighed and then you felt something pulling on the fabric of your dress. When you looked down, you saw the baby Orc staring up at you. At first, you winced out of disgust but you quickly hid that expression and the baby was too little to snitch on you later.

You looked around but you could not spot any worried parents looking for their offspring, so you assumed they still had not realised the baby was gone and you did not want to raise the alarm and bring everyone’s attention to yourself.

The baby Orc tugged on your dress again and then it lifted its hands up. You decided to give it a chance… Perhaps it would make you understand Adar better.

You picked the baby up gently and put it on your lap. The little Orc was actually interested in the leaves of the sacred Elven trees and it made you chuckle. You reached your hand to pick one of the leaves and use it to tickle the baby a little.

You heard familiar and heavy footsteps behind you so you turned your head around and you spotted Adar with Glûg beside him. They both froze at the sight but you did not care about the Orc at all, you focused on the Lord Father. You were staring into his cold eyes intensely as if you were challenging him.

“Forgive us, Dark Lady!” Glûg ran up to you to take his child from your arms. “Forgive my son for bothering you,” he bowed his head down.

You did not say anything to that but you handed the leaf to the baby so the little one would still have his new “toy” for a while longer. When Glûg walked away with his son, you laid your eyes on Adar again and he approached you slowly and sat next to you.

“I spoke with your father,” he started and you winced at yet another reminder of whose daughter you were. “Tomorrow at dawn by this tree,” he said and you could not understand the meaning of his words at first and then you realised he was handing you something.

A silver ring.

You nearly gasped at the sight. He claimed to be an Uruk but the traditions he followed were Elven. Where had he even taken it from? You assumed your father had given him one. You, however, were not prepared.

“I… I do not have one,” you admitted in a whisper.

“That is alright. Just have the golden one for tomorrow,” Adar attempted to actually make a joke and you cracked a nervous smile as you reached your hand towards him. “Are you sure, my Lady? There is no going back from this.”

“I am sure,” you nodded, trying to sound as firm as possible.

Oh, you were sure. You were sure that Sauron would come for you soon and he would be pleased with your cunning schemes that would help him in the end. That he would kiss you again like in the old days, that he would put the crown onto your head and make everyone in Middle-earth to bow down for you. And that he would be grateful for your sacrifice just to bring him justice… You were sure.

Adar nodded and put the ring onto your finger. When the act was done, long silence occurred between you two. Your heart was beating fast in your chest and he eventually held your hand in his, which nearly made you feel sorry for him for a moment.

“The days of loneliness are about to be over for us,” you tried to sound sweet but not too much because it would be suspicious. “I shall serve you with advice and companionship, Lord Father.”

Adar nodded at those words and his cold hand squeezed yours even tighter.

“I shall build a new life for us where we can be ourselves freely, Dark Lady.”

And when he let go of your hand to stand up and walk away, you truly felt bad for him. You hated him for hurting Sauron but he was more than that – he was hurt and sad. His pure Elven nature was twisted and the light of Valinor was gone from his soul. What he truly needed was healing even though it was too late for him now.

You would not bring that to him, though. You were a treacherous bearer of death and all you could think of on that night before your wedding was the moment when Sauron would save you and put a crown onto your head.

MASTERLIST

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

As one (Sauron x fem!Elf! reader)

-> in which you sense that your husband is being tormented at Adar’s camp, and you join him through your bond to share in his burden from afar

Warnings: evil!reader, mentions of torture, basically reader takes some of his pain upon herself

Note: The evil!reader collection strikes again. Shout to this anon (again) for inspiring the Force-skype in this fic

It feels like a sickness, deep in your stomach. A piercing sense of dread made into bodily sensation, gnawing at your insides. Yet you know it is a mere echo of your husband’s pain, dulled a thousand times over before it reaches you from miles away through the bond you share.

Your beloved, you grimly realize, is suffering once more at the hands of Adar.

You are in Celebrimbor’s forge, carrying on with your duties as you would any other day when you feel it. It was one thing, pretending like you were not the wife of the Dark Lord himself, like you were nothing more than another smith working under Celebrimbor for the interminable years you had awaited your husband’s return to his physical form. But now that he had returned, and you had finally been able to touch and hold him again, it was nigh impossible to keep up the charade. Every inch of you longed to remain at his side every moment of every day, but you both knew your business in Eregion was not finished and the time had not yet come for you to reveal your true selves.

So, when Galadriel uncovered his treachery, you remained behind as he left for Mordor to plant the seeds which would result in Adar attacking Celebrimbor’s city, and his army becoming yours and Sauron’s. But at the moment, Adar still thinks your husband is Halbrand, King of the Southlands—and you can tell, from that sensation in your gut, that as expected, he has not received a warm welcome.

You are supposed to be giving shape to a piece of metal, but your movements become mechanical and your eyes unfocused as you reach out to your husband through your bond. The deeper your spirit delves towards his, the more his surroundings begin to take shape in your inner vision. You strive to carry on with your work as images flash before your eyes—dirty ground, shackles, Uruks laughing cruelly, an old man bringing down a bludgeon again and again, grinning in sinister enjoyment as he inflicts pain upon your husband, searing and merciless—

You are pushed away with a fury—directed not at you, but rather aimed at protecting you. The moment he senses your presence from afar, your husband strives to cut you off, refusing to let you experience any more than the fraction of his torment that you already have. Tears gather in your eyes, surely suspicious to any other smith in the forge who might happen to look your way, but you no longer care.

No, you think, focused only on resisting your husband’s attempts at keeping you at bay. No, let me be with you. Let us bear this burden together.

A wave of anguish rolls off him, pain of the flesh and frustration with you laced together, and it fuels a thrust of his power so mighty that it hurls you right back into yourself, staggering on your feet and dropping the hammer you were holding.

Celebrimbor calls your name from another worktable. You rush to wipe away the stray tears and compose yourself, picking the tool back up.

“Are you alright? What has happened?” Celebrimbor asks, frowning in concern as he comes to your side.

“Nothing,” you reassure him, managing the pleasant smile you’ve grown accustomed to plastering on your face over the years. “A slip of the fingers, that is all.”

Celebrimbor eyes you a bit suspiciously, but in the end gives a small shrug.

“Well then,” he says, laying a hand on your shoulder, “be careful you do not suffer an injury of the fingers.” He smiles amicably. “It would be a pity to be deprived of your talents, even for a short while.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you say gracefully, even as the words boil on your tongue. ‘My lord.’ You have only one Lord. And you should be standing at his side whilst Celebrimbor and all others address you as ‘my Queen’.

But all in due time. For now, you gather every ounce of patience within you until your work is finished for the day, and you are finally free to retire. Once in the privacy of your own chamber, you go straight to your bed and lie down, breathing deeply as you gather your concentration. This time, you intend to seek out your husband with every sliver of your conscience, not just a part of it, and you refuse to be forced away once more.

Eyes staring somewhere far beyond the ceiling, you caress the wedding band on your finger, murmuring an incantation in Black Speech to aid in this fuller transition. The bed feels as though it is falling away from you as you gracefully follow the thread connecting you to your husband. Where you expected resistance, however, only a sense of tired quiet greets you from his end. The door between you is shut, but not longer locked. You nudge at it, gently—and with the ghost of a sigh, it opens, allowing you in. You let yourself fall through, eyes fluttering shut as your body remains behind you, sound asleep in your bed to anyone who might see it.

But you are now sitting beside your husband, taking in his surroundings with as much clarity as if they were your own. They are dark and filthy, lit only by a few torches whose light reflects upon the stone walls. A warg lies chained close by, teeth bared and growling at your husband like it finds him as appetizing as you always do.

“Delightful company,” you remark flatly.

“It is now,” your husband says, his voice like nectar as he drinks in the sight of you. He is not fully pleased, however. “I did not wish for you to see this.”

“And yet you have been persuaded,” you tease.

“You were quite insistant in your request.” A smile tugs at his lips. “And I am quite unable to deny you.”

“This time, at least,” you say wryly, thinking of how callously he had banished your presence before. But any ire that might have caused you cannot help but melt at the sight of your husband in such a state. His face dirty, his beautiful lip cut and bleeding, his form chained to the wall with an iron collar around his throat as he is left to sit on the cold ground. It’s a tragedy, an outrage. It makes your heart quiver.

“Must you put yourself through this?” you ask softly, reaching out to hold one of his hands as they rest in his lap. You have some sensation of the touch, but it’s nowhere near as vivid and fulfilling as when you are together in body as well as spirit. No doubt as dismayed by this as you, your husband frowns as he looks down at your hands, intertwining your fingers tightly to wring every last drop of that phantom feeling.

“You know very well we need the Uruks to march upon Eregion,” he tells you. “For that, I need Adar’s ear. This is how I gain it.”

“Adar,” you all but growl, anger surging through you. Were your touch solid and real, your nails might have drawn blood from your husband’s skin with how furiously they dig into it. “One day, we shall watch him suffer the same fate he once forced upon you. Worse,” you add, your vicious gaze meeting his, “for it will be the very Uruks he holds so dear who shall slay him at our command.”

The same thirst for vengeance burns within his eyes. “On that day, it shall be my pleasure to hear that order from your lips, my love. For now, however...” His voice loses its fire, rueful but resigned. “I must simply endure.”

You shake your head vehemently. “No. Not you alone.” You can tell before he opens his mouth that he is doing so to protest, and you refuse to allow it. “Were those not the vows we swore?” you remind him in earnest. “No hurdle shall ever be too high, for we shall overcome it together?”

“Not like this,” he says grimly.

“Exactly like this,” you counter stubbornly.

For a moment, your eyes remain locked in a battle of wills. He knows what you are offering, and you know why he is refusing. It would be possible, through your bond, for you to share in his pain—and as any burden carried by two instead of one, only half of its weight shall be felt by each. But such a thing must be allowed to happen by the both of you, and while you are willing, your beloved still resists.

His gaze softens, seemingly in surrender.

“It is comfort enough,” he reassures in earnest, “that I may look upon your face now.”

“Not for me, it isn’t,” you’re quick to refute. However his softly-spoken words may tug at your heartstrings, you are not so easily assuaged. You lean in closer and cup his cheek, mourning how the sweet roughness of his stubble is dulled beneath your fingertips by the physical distance between you. “You know I can handle a little pain, my love,” you murmur, voice sweet and oh-so-alluring. “Allow me this gift, will you? Let us be one in torment as we so often are in pleasure.”

A low groan leaves your husband’s throat as he leans, fruitlessly, into the palm of your hand. “It is you who torments me now, my love,” he rasps out, eyes burning into yours, “for how greatly it pains me to sense your touch upon my skin, yet feel only the ghost of it.”

“Ghost?” a gruff voice shatters your moment. You pull away quickly, looking behind your husband. The wretched man who you had briefly glimpsed beating your beloved before has returned. “You talkin’ to ghosts now, your majesty?”

The scurge is mocking him, snorting out a hideous laugh. You regret that you are invisible to his eyes, for if he could see your glare, any trace of his mirth would wither and die. And shortly, so would he, if you were there in body to break his neck.

“Those are pretty words you’re tellin’ ‘em,” he goes on shamelessly. “Some poetry for a special lady, perhaps?”

Your husband clenches his jaw, refusing to turn his head and acknowledge the man’s presence. He narrows his eyes, frustrated by Halbrand’s silence.

“If you wanna get back to her, it’s simple enough. All you gotta do,” he crouches behind your husband, speaking lowly near his ear, “is tell ol’ Waldreg everything you know about Sauron.”

Oh, the irony.

Out of nowhere, your husband whips his head towards him, and Waldreg falls back with a startled yelp. You’d laugh if you weren’t so disgusted.

“Imbecile,” you mutter.

Waldreg scrambles to his feet, glaring daggers at your husband.

“Pain must be something you enjoy,” he taunts. As if summoned, a pair of Uruks join him from outside. One hands Waldreg a bludgeon whilst the other pulls at your husband’s chain. He groans as his head is yanked back, neck straining against the collar. His gaze meets yours briefly, and you are filled with such anguish and wrath, you cannot breathe. But you cannot do a thing, either, other than to keep your grip on his hand, diluted in feeling as it is, like a lifeline.

“After Lord Father releases me,” your husband growls, “I am going to kill you.”

Even as he speaks the threat, you feel his inner plea caress your mind—urging you to retreat back into yourself before you must witness what is soon to follow.

Waldreg snorts out a cruel chuckle. “Adar doesn’t even remember you are here!”

Heart pounding, you reach for your husband’s face, fingers sinking into his dirty hair as you lean over him so that your eyes are locked and you are all he sees.

“As one,” you beseech, baring your soul to him through your bond so he might feel the full might of your willingness, your craving to receive any sensation he might share with you, fair or foul.

He shuts his eyes, a tear escaping at the corner. And at last, overwhelmed by your endless devotion, he relents. He welcomes you into him wholly and pours himself into you in return, leaving the door wide open for the suffering that is to come to flow in between, each of you shouldering half of it.

The bludgeon begins to fall once more—and the pain is almost sweet when it tastes of your beloved’s soul bleeding into yours.

Previous fic with same reader -> Reunion

Next fic with same reader -> As we are now

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Astray far away, towards the lands of the enemy.

Adar x reader | SMUT🔞 | Ch.2

When orcs cross your lands you choose survival. After that you choose selfish desire which makes for a nice turn of events.

WC: 2.2k

Part one of the Lets make Adar a dad fic

Waldreg was a rat, always had been.

But nowadays, with evil lurking he was making quite the points to assure survival. 

After Bronwyn gave her speech about fighting and Waldreg had countered it with bowing down for survival you had followed him out of the gates of Ostirith, and during the night, bowed down before your enemy.

Before you, Waldreg made a speech of loyalty but was ignored by the orcs' leader.

Ignored until he had called him Sauron. 

You watched Waldreg be grabbed by the throat and thrown to the ground, still offering loyalty to whoever the man before you all might be.

Again he was ignored, as the man took Rowan who stood right before you and was dragged to face the crowd, forced to kneel as the orc leader tossed a dagger at Waldreg's chest. Finally speaking.

"Only blood can bind." 

Before your eyes, in the torch lit town you watched as Waldreg did as instructed, and killed your friend to pledge his loyalty.

Next thing you knew you were following along with orders, listening to Adar give his speech to the Uruks he called his childen. Abd then trying to hide from your now enemies, praying the Uruks recognised you as their ally.

Only the Uruks weren't the biggest of your worries as another troop came in on horseback to aid the oposing forces.

So you hid with the remainder of the troop that managed to escape. You hid in the woods until the ground shook and fire rained from the sky and by the time the enemy fled you were back with Adar and the others and the start of building a new home was done.

The Southlands were no longer, from now on you were citizens of Mordor.

Scouts were sent off and remaining troops arrived with all belongings, ready to build.

But first it was time for celebration.

Uruks howled and feasted on fallen soldiers, even offering you some meat but you politely declined. 

Instead you found the other humans, all getting drunk off whatever survived the onslaught. So you moved on from them too, not feeling like drinking after all that happened. Your last stop was somewhere off at the edge of the town's remains where you stared at the smouldering ashes and low dancing flames on the edge of dying out.

That too didn't bring your mind peace and quiet, so you moved on again. Wandering around until you almost ran into someone after turning a corner. 

"Not of the celebrating kind, child?" Adar himself stood before you, two mugs in hand. He offered one to you as he went to sit on some fallen support beams.

"I'm not really one for getting drunk or feasting on my enemies' flesh, no." You joined his side and sat down. "Don't take me wrong, I am glad your Uruks have a home now." Your words ended with a smile, buried behind the drink. It was bad how you wanted to stare at the man for as long as you could. You had wanted it since you first watched him throw Wardreg and had Rowan killed. No one should look that good doing all of that.

"You know your eyes speak enough. No need to hide, I can read you." His gloved hand raised to lower your mug.

"This is good, what is it?" You tried your best to change the topic of conversation with a genuine question.

"A simple Uruk made red wine the last group brought in. Is it that different from what you served here?" He gestured to the tavern that you sat behind and looked at you with a curious look. 

"It's so nice and warm." It brought you comfort so you sipped away at it, the nerves of everything happening today finally leaving you. "So strange, it's so much nicer than ours." 

This time it was Adar changing the topic again. "Shall we go join the others? Surely you'd warm up to my children quicker that way." His offer was a kind one, filled with elven charm he still possesed even after becoming what he was now. 

"I think I prefer the less chaotic energy here, in all honesty. Being able to talk and drink wine, it's nice." 

And it was nice, even Adar agreed. Now that he and his children had a home there was no need for endless planning and strategizing to keep him busy anymore. 

"I admit, you are right. Having a quiet conversation just for the pleasure of it is something I have not done in a long while." He watched you place your mug down, impressed with how quickly you had downed the wine for a mere mortal who claimed not caring about getting drunk. 

You placed the mug down and thanked the wine for silencing the voice in your head as you sat straight up and murmured something. Adar didn't catch what it was, and questioned you about it.

"I said," With a swift move you flung your leg over his lap and straddled him. "There is probably other things that you have not done for pleasure in a very long time." 

Adar followed your quick movements with ease, hus gloved hand ending on your hip. Metal digging into your skin to steady you as his other hand came up to rest at your jaw.

Your actions intrigued him. "You assume right." His gloved hand sqeezed a bit harder, making you squirm in his lap as the sharp edges pressed deeper against your bones. "Now, what did you have in mind now that you have sat yourself so selfishly onto my lap?" He wasn't actively moving you off him so you took your chances to move along, inching closer to his face and pressing a swift peck to his jawline before nuzzling his neck. 

You only got a confused grunt in response, which had you decide to think more as an Uruk, and bite down on his flesh and grind your hips against his. It earned you a low growl and a sharp pull of your hair that disconnected your lips from his throat. 

"You wish to be rough, little mortal?" His gaze changed into an amused grin, taking your hip and shoulder in hand as he manouvered you onto your back, legs still over his as he moved himself atop of you. 

His legs on either side of the fallen structure with your hips pulled up against his, a sharp metal hand pressing into the soft plump of your cheeks prying open your jaw to push a finger past your lips. 

His ungloved hand went to find the ends of your garment and tear it off your lower half, exposing you to the night air while you struggled to move against the iron grasp on your jaw and the metal digging into your tongue.

"How good of you, to wet your master's fingers for him.." His lips barely an inch from your ear, returning the act of biting down on your earlobe with a soft growl and licking the sensitive flesh. 

You mewled as his gloved hand left your face, sharp fingertips dragging down over your clothed torso as he sat back up, untill it reached bare skin. You gasped as he continued south, two fingers moving just off your centre, pulling a soft plea from you. "P.. please, no.."

 He watched in amusement as he pressed the flats of his fingers against your mound, just the leather of his glove on your skin. He drank in the fear that mixed with your arousal, adding to his own fire and exposing you further, leaving your body bare to see for anyone who'd wander past.

You could feel his hard length press against you as he rutted his hips against you, his hands toying with your chest making you moan out in pleasure. 

He groaned in return, moving to undo his trousers and free his cock, wetting it with your slick. 

"It's been long since I have felt this warmth." He breathed out, postitioning his tip at your entrance. You whined with every inch of his length stretching you open, wrapping your legs around his waist as best as you could. The sounds of the Uruks ans men partying drowned out more with each roll of Adar's hips, forcing a moaned breath out of you each time. 

He stilled as he bottomed out, hips slotted with yours in a near perfect matter. Leaning forward on his hands his hair framed his face, lust blown eyes staring deep into yours. There was a slight pant in his breath. "I will keep you." His gloved hand moved to your chest, metal fingers toying with your nipple making you whine out. "Y.. yes Lord Father.." Pain and pleasure mixed in the best way. "You are mine to seek pleasure with howevever I wish." 

Your hands moves to clas at his thighs in an attempt to make him move. "My body belongs to you, Lord Father." 

Your words spurred him on and with a hand on your hip he started moving, cock leaving you almost fully before thrusting back in and setting a steady pace. 

Cries of pleasure filled the ashen air, groans and pleased grunts joining the choir behind the tavern. "L..lord Father.. Adar.." Your voice was barely abouve a whisper. " your hand found his hair, fingers scratching his scalp. "Plant your seed.. Use me to continue your bloodline." 

His thrusts became more harsh, forcing a gasp from you each time his hips came in contact with yours. "Would you.. truly give up your body.. like that?" He panted between breaths, he hadn't bred in Ages, not feeling the need to produce more offspring. The concept of having a family of his own beside his Uruk children was foreign to him. 

"Please.." You pulled him in closer with your heels pressed into his back, moaning as his cock hit just right inside you.

"Make me a mother." 

Adar's hips stilled entirely as he looked down on you, a grin spread wide on his faceas he lifted his gloved hand and brought a fingertip down below your chest hard enough to break skin. You could not see what he did, only feel the carving of flesh obscured by the plump of your breast.

He did not speak, nor try to show you. Instead resumed his rough pace as if nothing had happened.

"You will bear my children, yes? For as long as I please. Until your body is no longer fit to carry offspring." His raspy voice was right at your ear, his teeth sinking into the sensitive skin on your neck as he bred you. 

"Ahh..Adar.. hah.." Your moans increased the closer you got to the edge. They were music to Adar's ears.

Not like the animalistic howls and roars of thr Uruks he had gotten so accustomed to. No, your sounds were addicting. 

Your hand found his ungloved one, guiding it between your legs to press two fingers down on your clit, silently begging him to pull you over the edge. On contact you cried out, pleading over and over until the coil snapped and you came, walls clamping down on his cock in extacy.

With no chance to catch your breath your cries turned into begging for rest, a moment to come down but instead Adar kept playing with your clit, fucking into you at the perfect angle that hit every right spot inside of you. The display amused him, filing it all away for if he ever found himself alone and in need of relief.

Before you he panted, chest heaving and mouth hanging open. His tongue rolled out past his smiling lips, a string of drool lowering and disconnecting from the tip of his tongue, dripping down right above your core. His already slick fingers gathered it and spread it all over where his cock disappeared into your folds. 

It reminded you that you weren't producing a child with an elf. You were being bred by an Uruk. 

Adar's growls and sighs got more frequent along with his thrusts becoming less rythmic. He was as close as you were again.

His hinistrations continued, fingers dancing over your sensitive bundle of nerves as his cock stroked thr spot that had you see stars from the inside. 

You threw your head back with one last gut wrenching moan, squeezing your walls around his cock once more and pulling him over the edge with you. With a low growled moan he spilled deep within your womb, stilling to catch his breath.

As he tucked himself back into his trousers he watched your close to unconsious form, eyes closed and breaths evening out.

In your current state you could no longer register the Uruks that had gathered because of the noise, watching their Adar who mated with one of the new women. 

He was unsure how long they had been there or how much they saw, but from the howls and cheers he figured they had seen enough. 

With a glare in their direction, Adar sent away his children and covered your bare skin to the best of his abilities. You needed a new set of clothes. 

With you wrapped in his arms he set off to find a place for you to sleep while he sent others on a hunt for clothes. 

[lordofthescrolls]

Sweven (Adar x Elf reader)

Rating: Angst | Fluff

Summary: You did Sauron’s bidding because of a promise he made and when he was killed by Adar you were left with nothing… Or so you thought.

You didn’t know how long you had been kept in this prison, but you grew used to the dark, the lack of flames from torches you grew so accustomed to while living in the mountain. Now you were casted to the cold stones beneath Sauron’s chambers all because you had given him what you had promised… Power.

And you waited like any good servant would for his promise in return… One he did not give… Yet. You would constantly remind yourself. He will keep his promise, he will.

“My children told me there was one prisoner who refused to die.” A voice you have heard countless of times since you were taken, “Iston i nîf gîn.” He said. I know your face.

You knew his as well. You would admire him from a far as you both served Sauron in your own ways, never speaking to one another, but always there. You grew curious of the once elf now forged by darkness itself and created into a creature of the shadows.

It was his voice that intrigued you the most as it was the only thing you could truly hold onto here. A gruff and sad voice that you would hear in your dreams sometimes when the nights got too cold or the loneliness settled deep in your bones… Not that you would ever share that secret with anyone.

“I am an elf. Malnourishment does not kill me… You should be aware of that yourself… Elf.” You muttered quietly, your voice scratchy from the lack of use.

“Uruk.” He corrected you.

“Has… Sauron forgiven me?” You whispered brokenly as you blinked up at him, “I—” You coughed, “I did not mean to fail him. I swear. I didn’t have enough… I can try again. I can do better. Please tell him I can do better.” Your pleas were only met by silence and you watched him cautiously as he passed you a mug filled with water.

“Sauron is gone.” He replied, stepping back as he watched you gulf down the water in barely a second.

Your heart fell at his words, “He will come back for me then.” You murmured, shackled to the stone wall, “We have a deal.”

“Will he?” There was amusement in his voice, “It has been months since he had you chained down here.”

Months? Your throat felt dry again and you looked down at the now empty cup in your hands. Had it really been that long? “He could be continuing his plan.” You pressed wanting to believe that your wish will be fulfilled, “Him being gone doesn’t mean anything. He will return.”

“He could be...” He retorted, his gaze trailing over the tattered dress that you had been left in, “Or he could be dead.”

“He is not.” You seethed, your gaze snapping back to his.

“He is.” His grin was barely reckognizable but it was there.

“Your lies do not sway me.” You looked away from him, “Sauron isn’t dead. He can’t be, he is—”

“I killed him myself.” He proclaimed and he watched you lunge at him, the only thing stopping you was your chain.

“You…” Your breath caught in your throat as the first feeling that filled your chest was pure happiness. The joy that your master was finally gone and that you were free to do whatever you wished… To leave even, but then the loss settled in as you realized your wish would never be fulfilled. You would be left yearning for an eternity all because of a stupid elf.

“How could you.” You growled out as you slammed your fist into the ground, “Traitor!” You screamed at him, yelling profanities as he stood by and waited for you to calm down. You fell to your knees and began to weep not for your master, but for yourself. For the loss of a gift you so desperately wanted.

Adar crouched in front of you, looking down at you as if you were some wounded animal, “I have seen you in passing, always at his side. Never spoke a word, never showed emotion, always there… What did you do for him?”

“I healed him… Made him stronger…” You muttered broken as you recalled all those countless nights, brewing herbs in teas, using the magic you possessed to grow his power.

“And what did he offer you?” He asked gently as if trying to coax a wounded doe. That is what he deemed you were, a fragile doe left in a raging storm.

Your lips curled back as a grim expression took your face. Your tears falling freely as you cried in frustration and grief. You worked so very hard to please him and now here you were back to where you started… With nothing.

“I couldn’t…” Your throat tightened as you tried to speak through you cries, “I couldn’t have any… He promised he would fix me if I helped him… He promised and you took that from me!” Your anger grew as you lunged at him again, but he was quick and precise, always was with everything you have seen him do. He grabbed your wrist before you could fully swing at him and you felt yourself break in defeat as you sobbed.

“What did I take from you?” He asked again. His voice was low and gentle, his curiosity now growing.

“A family.” You replied barely above a whisper cursing the vacant womb you were blessed with since you were created, “All I wanted was a family.” Your voice broke.

He allowed you to pull your wrist free from his grasp and watched as you curled yourself into a ball, burying your face in your knees to hide your shame. Adar’s words seem to fail him in that moment as he looked at the broken elf maiden. He expected many answers to slip from your soft lips, but not that… Not when it was so close to the wish that he sought out for. The one that was granted when he was given his children. It was an answer that made him reach for your shackles and setting you free.

Your cries turned into sniffles as you felt the weight of the metal leave your ankles and you peaked up at him with hesitant curiosity.

“Are you hungry?” He asked in a gentle voice that was as rough as the stone you were used to sleeping against.

You didn’t answer with words, but a gentle nod of your head was all the confirmation he needed.

That was how you found yourself sitting at the stone table where Sauron used to dine. It was only on rare occasions that he would allow you to sit with him when he wanted to learn more about the slicers you created. You remember most nights however, you were left hungry because he was uninterested in your health. You were an elf, you only needed little to survive no matter how painful it was. Now the table was filled with orcs as they ate without fear of Sauron’s wrath.

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered sitting on Adar’s right as he sat at the head of the table. You had yet to touch your food and waited on his answer.

“He did not care for your wish as you thought he did. That is why he shackled you in such darkness after you provided no more use for him.” He explained as he took a sip of his wine.

“And you? Do you have use for me? Is that why I am up here?” You asked, accusing him of the same thing that Sauron had done.

“I am not him.” His reply was sharp as he stared at you, “I want nothing of you. You are free to leave now if you wish.”

You took in his words as you looked back to your plate. You could hear your stomach growl once the scent finally registered. You reached for the meat first and took a large bite as you contemplated on Adar’s words.

You were finally able to leave freely and that left excitement billowing in your chest, but it slowly fizzled away when you realized where would you even go? Who would want to take in a follower of Sauron? You thought and now your stomach filled with dread. They would kill you where you stood especially with the mark seared onto the back of your neck.

“Guren *glassui.”

It caught you off guard as you heard your mother language be spoken by the uruk sat across the table from you. It was clear he was speaking to you and everyone else continued with their conversation, everyone except for Adar who watched the interaction silently.

“You speak elvish? How?” You accused as your thoughts were scattered. It had been a long time since you were able to speak to anyone beside Sauron and even then it was only to agree to whatever he said. Your manners seem to evade you now as you pressed, “Thank you for what?” Was I being mocked? You weren’t sure.

This time the feast grew quiet as everyone listened in on your conversation. If uruk’s could blush you would see the poor uruk’s face turn bright red, “I asked Lord Adar to teach me your elvish words of thank you.”

Oh… Your gaze softened as you looked at him, “Why would you want to know my language?” You asked, but this time your tone was gentler.

“I was hurt badly… I would have died if not for your healing magic. That is why I thank you.” He explained, a shy expression overtaking his face.

“Ah…” Your voice trailed off in surprise.

You came to realize over the years you’ve been captive under Sauron’s hand that Uruk’s weren’t evil beings… Just forced to do bad things. This particular uruk, you vaguely remember helping one night while passing by the less then salvageable infirmary…

“You’re welcome.” You nodded towards the uruk, “I am glad that you survived. You did well. You all did well, truly.”

Your words seemed to brighten his and his siblings moods as the celebration continued in full. The dinning room and the rest of the mountain was filled with cheers as they celebrated their victory. Soon enough it was just you and Adar who were left at the table.

Your plate was wiped cleaned as you subtly looked for more food.

He noticed this and pushed his plate towards you, “Here.”

Your face heated up, “I couldn’t, that’s yours.”

“I’m not that hungry. Go ahead and eat before one of my children steal it from you.”

That was all you needed to hear before you were eating the rest of his meal, your stomach finally happy from being filled.

Adar watched you with mild humor and his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his seat, “Have you decided what you will do?”

You wiped your mouth with your sleeve after you drank your wine. You looked towards him a small frown on your lips, “I don’t think I can go anywhere… Not with who I am… What I’ve done… I have nothing left.” You looked at the table, “He took my old life from me.”

“But not your new one.” Adar responded and you waited for him to continue as you leaned back to stare up at the stone ceiling, “You have everything to look forward to and experience.”

“But where? Who would possibly take me in when I have a mark of evil on my neck.” You spoke in frustration.

“I would.”

It was barely a whisper, but it had you sitting up to face him fully, “What?”

“I would take you. As you are. Right now.” He repeated, clear and sure this time.

“Even if I offer nothing to you?” You muttered quietly.

Adar nodded and stood from his seat, “You wouldn’t need to do anything you don’t want to.” He looked down at you with a softness in his gaze, “You could stay with my children and I.” He looked away for a moment.

It was then that he held his hand out for you to take if you wanted too as he continued, “We are not welcome in that world, but when we find our home it can be your home too… If you wish.”

You stared at his outstretched hand for a moment with entirety of emotions swirling in your chest. Fear, gratitude, anxiety… Care… This was the most you felt in a very long time and it was him… The silent brooding elf… Uruk making you feel.

His hand felt warm as you took it, a redness brushing against your cheeks as he pulled you up to stand.

“Thank you.” You whispered quietly as you looked up at him, “For offering me a home.”

“Always.”

It was a year later when you were curled up under Adar’s arm and covered by furs that kept you both warm. You breathed in his scent and listened to his slowed heartbeat as you tried to fall asleep with him, but something felt different tonight. It was only when listening to the laughter of his children that you have grown attached to just outside of your shared tent that you realized in some twisted way Sauron had given you the dream you desired… You finally had a family.

[payidaresque]

MAJOR TROP S2 FINALE SPOILERS BELOW (i'm too excited not to share my thought)

While some of the theories we made didn't prove to be true (honestly, i never believed they would) I LOVED THE FINALE SO MUCH. Cause i got everything i expected from it and more!!

Got an epic fight that didn't last 10 minutes but almost HALF OF THE EPISODE (THANK GOD)

he really didn't want to harm her at first, JUST as i expected here, he was just being defensive at first. And the rest just happened in the heat of battle (which of course doesn't justify everything sauron did but hey, what did u expect? he's evil after all)

And while i do believe he used his Halbrand form to manipulate her (again, very much expected knowing who he is), i also believe that what Sauron said here is true — the way he paused before saying it and the way he looked at her tells me that he was actually being sincere. what he would've gained from saying it, manipulation wise? Sauron is not stupid, surely he understands that Galadriel would not fall for it (and she didn't) which kinda brings me to a simple conclusion that he said it because he wanted to say it

also, this was both sexy and twisted of him omg????? totally Sauron move, i love it!! I did NOT expect that

as for "proving his love for her", i actually think he did, in his own way?

because he could end her right there and just take the ring (rip adar and brimby btw, you will be missed 😔), but he didn't? even more so, i believe that if Galadriel didn't attack him first there, he wouldn't attack her back. As fucked up as Sauron is, Galadriel is still on his mind

And goddamn it he meant what he said. And again, she knows who he is, she knows his tricks, so he wouldn't gain anything by saying it, which again means, that it is indeed his desire: not just to rule, but to rule with her. he'd make the whole world worship her (which, again, is basically his way of saying he loves her)

and again, why didn't he just kill her and take her ring? what was the need of standing and looking at her like that? why try to presuade her, when he has no problems with taking what he wants by force? the answer is: because she is Galadriel. Because they are connected to each other and he feels it with every fibre of his immortal being. His expression is not even angry her, or creepy, like a few minutes ago, he's just... gazing at her.

even more so, here

he actually got scared when she fell, he even tried to reach for her hand to stop her for falling (and before u say anything — no, i don't think it was because of the ring — he could retrieve it any other time from anyone else as no one else for him is a match for him but Galadriel — it's her he got scared for. I'm convinced of it)

As for the mataphorical "fall of Galadriel" — well i hoped for it, but i never believed it would actually happened because of how Galadriel is (Also, Brimby's monologue from 2x07 with her kinda killed all my hopes for it so). However, i think s3 has a lot to explore, so i'm leaving a little bit of hope there)

i have many other thougts i can't process right now and i might share them later, but overall, i think the episode was GREAT! Charlie and Morfydd did wonders once again, watching them on screen is such a treat. I love them both so much!! I also might make a separate post about Charlie's and Charles' Edwards scenes were phenomenal, and I will miss Brimby dearly because of Charles' breathtaking acting

To conclude: I, personally, is fed well enough for it to last for the upcooming 2 years. Oh, and also: l'oreal paris — because you're worth it. Oh, and one more thing: he used Halbrand form because he knows that Galadriel feels for him too, and her first reaction proved it (an ass move by the way).

[sirenedusud]

once more to see you (adar x elf!reader)

decades at a time, you find yourself crossing paths with the Uruk.

AN: hey guys i was listening to mitski and for some reason (yeah sure) i was filled with yearning for adar. he intrigues me so. i need help like mentally or something.

AN II: at some point the horny evaporated from my body and i was feeling something different, this ended up being like 30% adar lmao, BUT ALAS I WRITE FOR MY OWN PLEASURE AND I CANNOT HELP IT. enjoy.

--------------------------------------------------------

Dawn swept across the great delta, the pools of seawater and grains of sand glistened like stars as the sunlight dappled through the clouds. Eärendil's plea had been answered by the Valar, and so a host of your fellow elves from Valinor arrived upon the shores of Beleriand. You followed the call with haste as you wished to be reunited with your dearest friends in exile, but now your stomach turned at the sight ahead. A looming shadow crept over the mountain range, threatening to overtake what remained of Middle Earth's western shores.

Your company had concluded setting up camp the day before. Now only battle preparations were being rehearsed repeatedly, for no one could predict when the fight would erupt. You spent the entire morning doing drills you could have done as easily in your sleep and so decided to slip away from the encampment for a moment away. The forest gave you no comfort though, darkness lingered everywhere, muffling your hyperaware senses. Still you wandered, bow clamped tightly in one fist. Minutes later, you stumbled upon a clearing in the woods, but someone was already there. Their presence made your blood run cold; you notched an arrow for good measure.

It was too late though, the figure turned swiftly, looking directly at your frozen figure behind a tree. He did not draw his sword, nor did you release your arrow. You found yourself completely transfixed on him. He seemed to be an elf, with his long, pointed ears and tresses of midnight black hair.

Whatever danger oozed from him ceased now as his own eyes captured every inch of you. You noticed tear stains on his hollow cheeks, had he been crying before you came? You stepped out of the tree's shadow without hesitation, allowing the sunlight to pour down on you, illuminating your pale blue attire and long, woven hair. He only continued to gaze at you, as if he was studying the magnificent night sky etched with constellations.

“What is something so fair doing wandering on this dark path?” he asked calmly. Your cheeks flushed, but before you could open your mouth a horn blared in the distance and you pointed your arrow in its direction, then back at the elf. He was gone. This couldn't mean well. You ran back to the encampment as fast as you could to find elves running back and forth, your commander yelling at soldiers and captains alike. The war began.

***

The black blood mucked onto your armor would not budge regardless of how much pressure you rubbed at it with. With a sigh of defeat you dropped the filthy rag and laid your head on the boulder behind you. Decades had passed and the war continued. In this moment of stillness between the two fronts, you and Galadriel had led the injured away from the desolate northern regions. Your mind wandered on the events of the past years: the countless orcs you had slain, the mountains and plains which had been ravaged, the elves and men that fell to their death beside you, and the glimpses of the dark elf from the woods passing by you on the battlefield yet never crossing your path.

"What troubles you?" Galadriel's soft voice stirred your attention. She stood before you, glorious even through the weariness of war.

"Nothing. Nothing besides the stench of those rotting Orcs," you replied without a look to her, guilt creeping into your heart. She crouched down before you and took your hands into her own without another word.

A deafening roar split through the air suddenly, snapping everyone awake. Upon the northern horizon, winged serpentine beasts flew in your direction. Men and elves alike shouted at the sight in an uproar of confusion.

"What treacherous hole have those beasts crept out of?" one man cried out, looking to his own equally mortified commanders.

"So this is Morgoth's desperate assault," your tall commander pondered, before speaking loudly for all to hear, "his forces have been expended. Do not give into fear. Do not fear!" In a blur, you part from Galadriel and fall into line with the remaining soldiers charging back into the heat of battle. The dragons devastated the front line, scalding skin off of bone, melting armor and sword, snapping arrows like twigs. As one dragon swooped down to rake through soldiers, you shot a large arrow into the beast's eye, causing it to roar in pain, but too quickly it recovered to charge straight at you. In that moment, fear paralyzed you. The cloud of flame descending upon you grew hotter by the second, and you closed your eyes. No fear.

That was until a cold metal hand yanked you by the nape of your armor, dragging you away from the now burning spot. You opened your eyes to see a black-haired figure pulling you further and further away from the fields and into a dark ravine. The ground was bloodied, black trees stood completely charred here. The air hung thickly; perhaps it was from the dragon fire, perhaps it was only something between you and the elf. He finally stopped to release you, causing you to catch yourself from face-planting into the rocky ground. He paced a little ways further, keeping his back to you. The sounds of clashing metal and roaring dragons continued in the background, yet grew faint as you focused solely on your savior.

"Who are you?" you asked warily, a hand resting upon the slender blade on your hip, yet rather pathetically you wished nothing more than for him to gaze at you like in your last meeting. He does turn eventually, and his eyes do find yours, but they were filled with anguish so strong it drew a worried expression from your own face.

"I am..." he began, "I thought I was fighting for my children’s place in this world, but it seems I led them all to death..." Children? What children did he speak of? You knew he served Morgoth, alongside other monsters and tormented souls twisted into Morgoth's "creations,” but no children were on that battlefield. You stood up slowly, trying to navigate the elf's mood as he looked down at the ground. His scarred hand grasped his black sword tightly, but you crept closer. He looked up again, stopping you in your tracks as electricity crackled between the two of you.

His pale face was scarred so severely that you winced at the thought of what it looked like when they were fresh, but he was beautiful nonetheless. His melancholic grey-blue eyes shone upon a set of high-cut cheekbones. His thin lips parted to speak again, but his gaze dropped down to the black blood staining your armor. Suddenly, his eyes darkened and he grew angry, stepping away from you. You panicked at this change in temper and unsheathed your blade.

"Forgive me," he muttered before striking you across the head with the butt of his sword. The power of his hit threw you unconscious and you crumpled to the floor. For a moment he regretted his action, but the shrieks of the dragons snapped him back into reality. He pulled you behind some large rocks, out of sight from any dangerous passerby, and returned to the battle which costed him his kin. The battle which he knew Morgoth was losing.

***

The golden forest welcomed you with a gentle breeze as you walked down the rows of trees carved into figures of martyred elves. You stood before the familiar faces, ebbs of grief resurfacing in your heart. Decades had passed since the War of Wrath ended and now you remained in Middle-Earth with numerous other elves. Sometimes you longed for the light of Valinor, yet other times a dark desire only found in this foreign land kept you chained to Middle-Earth. Now, you simply resided in the elven kingdom of Lindon.

"There you are," Gil-galad's voice called to you gently. You turned to greet him, his eyes softened at the sight of your weary face. Your heart, on the other hand, leapt after taking in the sight of the golden king. Moments like this passed between the two of you before, a connection that yearned to blossom during these peaceful years spent together in Lindon, but you said nothing of it and neither did he with all his power in the world. He stepped closer to you, taking your hand into his larger, warmer ones before speaking.

"I know this look. I know you regret not joining Galadriel on her...search," he began, his golden rings dazzling in the sunlight, "but I have a task for you which I hope proves to be a distraction because I do not wish to see you mourn the past, wandering here in these woods alone." His voice grew firmer towards the end. He was right, long had you spent idly in solitude, spiraling in dark memories yet also refusing to return to Aman.

"What is your command?" you asked aloofly. Gil-galad let out a sigh and patted the back of your hand, guiding you back out of the forest and towards his halls.

"I want you to go see Celebrimbor. See what he is conjuring in that workshop that keeps him so occupied," Gil-galad continued, "I'm afraid our friend is not replying to my envoys as swiftly as I would like, and thought perhaps a more familiar face would get things out of him sooner." A stronger breeze passed through the exit of the woods, causing your eyelids to flutter shut and you to inhale deeply. You opened your eyes to find Gil-galad studying your face, then looking away shyly. Before entering the main hall, he turned to you, gently clasping his hands upon your shoulders.

"Go now. Take two with you," he instructed, "and allow that foul battlefield to leave your mind.”

***

The road to Eregion was short. Your companions became immersed in the citadel's magnificence upon arrival, and so you made your way to Celebrimbor alone. Sure enough, you found him in his workshop, chipping away at a slender blade handle made of polished marble.

"Celebrimbor-"

"Oh!" he shouted in surprise, the blade snapping off of the handle before him, "Ohhh." He turned to you with a frown, but immediately lit back up.

"It is a delight to see you my dear friend," Celebrimbor stood up to come closer to you, "such a delight! We must feast and drink on this occasion...for when was the last time you graced my humble workshop,” he rested one hand on your back as he began guiding you towards the doors you had just entered from.

“But you see…right now I'm quite busy." You began to protest with the elf, but he swept you out of the tower quicker than you could repeat Gil-galad's inquiries. With no other way back inside, you headed out of Eregion's main gates and into the woods. You hadn't meant to go wandering again, but your body had grown accustomed to this ritual: to walk deeper into the woods, fall deeper into memories with every step, become blind to what stood before you physically as your mind filled with images of the past.

The sun began to set and you found yourself in a small clearing full of sweet scented flowers and lightning bugs floating about. Images of the dark elf's face flashed before your mind’s eye, causing your heart to stammer. You admitted to yourself that right now more than anything you wanted to see him once more. The softness he spoke to you with, the scars on his pale face, the agony in his burning gaze, the way those same eyes were so captivated by you in the woods; everything about him was intoxicating. It was so pathetic of you, an Eldar, to be emotionally bound to a creature of darkness. There was now an emptiness within you that he had dug, a hollow that tore open even wider when you remembered him. You fell to your knees in a soft bed of moss, grabbing fists of your hair as you begged yourself to forget the enemy.

"This is madness! I've been marked by some ill will. It’s a stain. It's just a trick of the dark forces, not my own mind! Not mine, not mine, not mine." Your hands hammered at your head. You threw your body forward and released a frustrated scream and then, bereft of any more strength, remained in child's pose upon the soft green earth. Crickets began to chirp around you, and the sound of careful footsteps reached your ears as well. You should have looked to see who it was, but you chose to sulk in self-pity. They grew closer, stopping midway as if they had seen something, then began to head towards you before stopping mere feet away.

"Fair creature..." a low voice spoke above you. You whipped your head up to find the darkling standing before you, clad in full black attire. Suddenly, you became aware of your lack of weapons, but then fell distracted by two tears escaping your eyes. It is a strange sensation, unfamiliar to you completely. Two drops of warm water traced down your cheeks and into the crevices of your lips, the taste of salt hitting your tongue, before continuing down your chin. You raised a hand to wipe the salty rivulets away, but a thumb in a black glove found them first. The dark elf knelt before you, looking curious as ever.

"How are you here?" Numerous questions filled your head at once, but time was of the essence with someone as fleeting as this elf.

"I fled in the end with my remaining children, in...someone else's refuge,” he hesitated with his words. He was afraid to reveal too much, yet he yearned to be vulnerable with you because he felt that he could. You caught his hand before it dropped away from your face, and rubbed your thumb against the back of his glove. He fell into a trance again, bewitched by your beauty, the beauty of elves he could no longer recall from his own memory. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as he kept his hand in yours, your questions now forming quicker in your mind than on your tongue.

"Who are you? You left me in the mountain last we met. Why did you do it? Why not kill me? I killed…so many of yours," you spoke frantically. His eyes grew hurt, but he did not pull away from you.

"For as long as I can remember, I am called Adar," he began slowly, "My kin and I are Uruk. Yes, you killed many of them, yet I do not know why I spared you. I know...I saw something in you that day in the woods. Something that I should have turned away from, but I gave into it in that moment, and then again in the battle." Your face flushed and it was your turn to cease eye contact. Whatever intense desire you felt, he had felt it too, you were sure of this. All the sinners of Middle-Earth could have been pointing and laughing at you in this moment. You grew afraid, so afraid of how relieved you were to be with Adar right now, to know him a little more.

"I know what it is that stopped you from killing me," you tested your words as you were still apprehensive of this servant of Morgoth, "I felt it too." Slowly, you pulled Adar's hand up to your heart. For a moment the two of you remained like this, then he uttered something in a foreign tongue and pushed you away. He marched away from you before turning around.

"Do not ever seek me out," he said hoarsely, "for your own sake."

***

The waves lapped at the edge of the harbor on which you stood upon. You watched as some elves began to slowly board the ship set for Valinor. Galadriel stood beside you, looking increasingly agitated as her time to board came closer. Her company had returned several days ago from their search for Sauron, but the elves refused to carry on, forcing their commander to fall back as well.

You turned to Galadriel and she mirrored you. You gave her a weak smile, knowing full well she did not wish to take this gift of returning to Aman.

“Perhaps you could speak with Gil-galad once, since Elrond was of no use in this,” she said with a hint of hope, but you shook your head.

“If I speak any word of this to him, he’ll put me on that boat too and be rid of the both of us,” you turned to look back as you spoke, catching sight of the king in the distance. He gave you a small nod, perhaps thinking you were having a heartfelt farewell with your friend. Galadriel let out an airy laugh as she glanced at the king as well.

“Well, why aren’t you coming with us?” Galadriel inquired suddenly, curious as to why you had bound yourself to Middle-Earth. You looked at her shyly but simply shrugged; if you told her the truth you knew she would have dragged you onto the ship herself.

“There is still much I want to see. Things not as troubling as well, Sauron,” you responded slowly, taking the last few steps on the dock with Galadriel before she boarded the white ship. She turned back one last time to embrace you, bringing her lips close to your ear.

“I know he is alive,” she whispered.

“I believe you,” you reassured her before releasing her. She muttered a final goodbye before turning to face the front of the ship. You watched as Círdan, Master of the Grey Havens, stepped off the ship before it made its way out of the harbor. Galadriel, nor any of the other elves, turned back. You watched until the ship became a speck on the horizon, until the sun began to set, and until Elrond reached for your arm to guide you away from the harbor.

***

The elves of the Southlands were to return home. Wishing to escape Gil-galad’s ever-watchful eye, you chose to carry this message to the Watchtower of Ostirith. The elves spoke ill of the men in the villages below, who all felt the same way towards the elves even though they were severely defenseless without them. Save Arondir, who had grown fond of one particular woman. Oftentimes you wanted to advise him against it, to say that he would only be hurt if he chose to love a mortal, but you yourself chose worse things to love.

Upon one quiet morning, something had drawn you to the black forest surrounding the tower. The silence of these woods became unnerving though after walking through them for half an hour and you contemplated turning back, but you found yourself lost. You could not sense the way you came from at all. Terror split into your mind as you trekked down the path you were certain you had come from, desperately scanning the forest floor for signs of your own footprints. You were beginning to lose daylight, and prayed the woods were as empty as they sounded.

You suddenly stumbled into a thicket of webs and groaned at the white strands sticking to your hair and clothes.

“Cursed things! Spiders this close to people? Or, perhaps…I am not as close to civilization as I thought I was…” you trailed off into thought as you cut through the webs. The task at hand becoming so distracting that you did not detect one spider crawling up behind you. Your ears had caught the sound of one of its feet slipping though, but before you could turn to parry its attack, you found the arachnid dead with a black arrow through its skull. It fell with a loud thud to your feet, and you stared, dumbstruck, at the archer. Adar stood there, though not as shocked as you. You scrambled out of the webbed mess and straight to him, desperate to catch him before he slipped away again.

“I caught sight of you when you entered the forest. I sensed you were lost and only followed to make sure you returned to Ostirith in one piece–“ Adar began but stopped as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing your cheek into his armored chest.

“Please, please don’t leave! Please stop doing this to me,” you pled. A split second later Adar dropped his bow and clung onto you as well, his one bare hand raking through your long, soft hair. He pressed his face into your smooth forehead, and inhaled your floral scent, absorbing anything and everything he could of you. No guilt or shame reached you now. It was as if no one could see you, not Ostirith, not Gil-galad, nor the Valar.

“What does an Eldar want to have to do with me?” Adar’s question finally broke your peace. You looked at him in confusion, your mind juggling between reality and its possibilities.

“You could be forgiven, you did not know what you were going to be forced to do when Morgoth had twisted you into…none of this has to be your burden,” you rambled, but Adar shook his head.

“I cannot abandon my children. They have every right to be free in Middle-Earth as anybody else.”

“Children? What are these children you keep speaking of?” you sighed as you took a small step back and planted your hands to your hips. Adar smiled down at you, but inwardly he prepared for you to finally be disgusted by him, to finally reject him and free the both of you from this tangled web of emotions.

“The Orcs,” he explained, “they had been abused by Morgoth once, and I cannot allow it to happen again. They deserve to be free, to have their own land, with no ruler above them…I wish to grant them this peace.” You stared at Adar incredulously. What madness could possess someone to pity the vile Orcs?

“The only peace you could grant them is to put an end to their treacherous existence,” you replied harshly. Adar’s eyes grew angry for a moment, but his pent up desire caused him to soften under your stern gaze. You trembled as you began to realize that perhaps he would not join you in this eternal life, the darkness had truly twisted his soul. As if sensing this, Adar grasped your chin with his hand and forced you to look into his eyes.

“I don’t know what to do…” your lip began to quiver.

“For now…be here with me,” the Uruk responded before dipping his head down to capture your lips in his. You immediately melted into his armored body, any flame of despair within you extinguished. You kissed him back fervently, your hands reaching for his neck, lips feeling every inch of his cold ones. He rocked your head gently to the side, giving himself more leeway to devour your lips. You let him slip his tongue into your mouth, a cold metallic taste filling your senses. His hands wandered down your body, slowly squeezing every bit of you from your breasts to your hips. A moan slipped out of you after one of his hands trailed back upward and gave your throat a soft press.

Twigs snap in the distance and you lurched back from Adar. His cold eyes scanned into the dark forest, his body covering yours protectively. After a minute passed, he turned back to you. His own heart, which he once thought long dead, jumped at the sight of you. The moonlight illuminated your flushed cheeks, your lips now glistening from the kiss, and the ardor in your eyes.

“We are not alone, fair creature,” Adar whispered to you between kisses on your cheek then nose then other cheek, “Your kin searches for you. Go to them.” You wanted to protest, but Adar only brushed a hand through your hair once more before stepping back into the forest, fading without a trace.

“There you are,” Arondir’s voice came from behind you. You turned to face the stoic elf with a dazed expression. He did not ask you why you were here, but simply beckoned you to follow him back to the tower. On your way back, you turned the cold taste of Adar on your tongue over and over again.

***

Arondir led you straight back to the tower, but before entering the fortress, he turned on his heel to face you.

“Who was with you out there?” he asked.

“Wh-what?” you stammered as the question caught you by surprise.

“Who was with you in the woods?” Arondir repeated, emphasizing each word. He took a step forward, looking down at you sternly. Your blood ran cold. Did he already know? Could you lie?

“I was lost, I was talking to myself. There wasn’t any–“

“Do not lie!” Arondir’s jaw tightened as he snapped at you. You stood with your mouth agape, feeling as if you were shrinking smaller and smaller under his judgmental gaze.

“Did you not think I could sense the darkness lingering on your flesh?” you shivered as he continued, “and to think…you succumbed to it so easily.”

“You don’t understand! It was nothing of that sort!” you pled but to no avail. Arondir scowled, turning away from you and headed into the tower.

“It is best you leave these lands. For good,” Arondir called over his shoulder before leaving you alone in the dark. You fell to your knees, praying under your breath for the night sky to come down and swallow you up from your spot.

***

When you reached Lindon, two soldiers immediately led you to Gil-galad. As you entered the king’s study, you noticed a crumpled letter on his ivory desk, as if he had read it and crushed it in his palm immediately. The tall elf stood with his back to you for several minutes, sweat began to form at your hairline. Finally, he turned to you with a somber expression.

“Do you know what I just read?” he asked, barely in a whisper.

“Gil-galad…” he raised a trembling hand to stop you regardless of asking you a question. He stepped around his desk and loomed over you. His eyes searched yours for something you could not decipher. He raised a pointing hand as he spoke.

“Tomorrow, at first light, there is a ship leaving for Valinor. You will take it, and you will not have any say in this,” he seethed. Disappointment burned in his eyes, and for once you became afraid of him. Naturally, you did not protest and without another word bowed to Gil-galad before turning to leave the room.

Hot tears streamed down your face as you made your way as far as you could from everyone. You kept your face down in shame, making your way to the edge of the city before bumping into someone. You looked up to see Elrond. His mouth parted in surprise but he quickly swept you into a tight embrace, patting your back as you stifled a sob.

“Surprised he didn’t send you off with Galadriel the first time,” Elrond joked quietly, but his voice remained solemn. He did not ask anything else of what had happened in the Southlands, even though he knew the basis of it.

“I should have left the moment the war ended.”

***

The waves were gentle as they carried your ship closer and closer to the golden rays before you. Warmth hummed within your chest as the clouds parted completely to reveal the brilliance of Aman. The welcoming light grew stronger, infiltrating every bit of your surroundings. Your senses began to buzz entirely. Any despair in your mind melted away, and the hollow in your heart filled with something soft and kind. A song from the Amanyar carried through the breeze; the chorus of silken voices beckoned you home.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Let’s Talk Galadriel Heartbreak in Season 2

Am I the only one who thinks her whole vibe about “Halbrand is Sauron” in Season 2 was way too over the top for the interactions we were shown back in Season 1 and for something merely platonic?

First, we can’t analyze Galadriel and Halbrand’s interactions with “shipper goggles” on. We have to be unbiased, here. And the truth is: we have enormous plot holes, and many things that just don’t add up. This makes us wonder/theorize what happened off-screen between Galadriel and Halbrand back in Season 1.

Not to upset my fellow shippers (you know how passionate I am about Galadriel x Sauron to the point I was accused of being delusional), but we didn’t see any interaction between Galadriel and Halbrand in Season 1 that could explain the seven stages of grief that Galadriel went through in Season 2.

They flirted, shared stares and the “I’ve felt it too” scene, and then Halbrand was revealed to be Sauron. And that’s it. We saw him as friends, basically. The argument that “Elves feel everything more deeply” is kind of weak when we look at the full picture.

Galadriel behavior in Season 2 wasn’t “I fell in love with him and he lied”. Like at all. We saw her heartbroken, angry, desperate and tormented by her memories of Halbrand, and by being deceived. It was personal but was no longer about getting revenge for her brother’s death; she wanted revenge because she got played.

1) Galadriel tried, at all costs, to keep Halbrand’s true identity hidden from everyone else

First, she allowed the Three Elven rings of power to be made. She tells Celebrimbor not to deal with Halbrand anymore, but provides no explanation (endangering him in the process). And clearly Celebrimbor himself doesn’t take her warning seriously, because he allows Halbrand to return to Eregion forge.

Then, she literally hunted down Elrond all the way back to Lindon. Why? Probably because she didn’t want Gil-galad and Elrond himself to find out that Halbrand was actually Sauron. And the question here is: why?

Was it only because she was humiliated and her pride was wounded for not “being strong enough” and allowed herself to be deceived (like she tells Celebrimbor in 2x07)? Or is there another reason for this behavior? Because we did see Galadriel lying left and right in Season 2, to hide the truth of her connection to Sauron. He promised you an army? Not even Adar believed that.

Besides, Sauron is known as “the great deceiver”, after all. Gil-galad is pissed but he doesn’t hold it against Galadriel, too much. I think he’s more upset by her disobeying his order to return to Valinor than anything else. Sure he doesn’t allow her to command the mission to Eregion, but he is concerned she might be susceptible to deception, again, after all. And that’s the reason why he appointed Elrond as the commander. No one holds Celebrimbor accountable because he got deceived by Sauron. So; what does Galadriel have to hide?

2) Galadriel was obsessed in meeting and fighting Sauron alone

This was Galadriel’s main drive in Season 2: find Sauron and kill him. All by herself. She bitterly joins Elrond & co, but goes rogue when she gets the chance.

However, she is worried about what may happened if she does meet Sauron alone, but that fear doesn’t stop her, anyway. Which makes me ask, again: why? What does she have to hide?

3) Galadriel and Adar: the meeting of the exes

Galadriel is unwilling to face Sauron alongside her Elf companions. However, she is prepared to do it alongside Adar, in 2x08. Which is interesting, because Adar himself was also played by Sauron, his revenge is also personal, and they already overshared with each other in 2x06.

Adar and Galadriel share a mutual understanding of Sauron and his seductive ways. In a way, Adar is the only character with whom Galadriel can relate in this matter. And that’s probably why she’s willing to actually join him to destroy Sauron.

Galadriel and Adar's “wine and dine” in 2x06 was, pretty much, them being the bitter exes crying at each other’s shoulder because they got played by the same fuckboy (Sauron). That was the subtext of that scene. Adar was clearly in love with Sauron, too.

This makes me wonder: why is Galadriel saying life without Halbrand has been a “dull gray”, exactly? Because, back in Season 1, Halbrand was always pretty moody and angsty, except when he was at the forges working (both in Númenor and Eregion, with Celebrimbor). Him smithing was the happiest we saw him, then.

4) Galadriel's reactions in her fight with Sauron

When Sauron arrives and says her name, Galadriel is absolutely terrified. To the point she actually freezes on the spot and is unable to move. Why? We know she’s not afraid of Sauron, come on. She is so scared because she’s afraid he might still be on Halbrand form. And she doesn’t know how she would react to that.

Luckily for her, he isn’t. He is on Annatar form, and she doesn’t have a connection to it. Still, she’s only able to attack him when he had his back turn on her, and she is not able to see his face, anymore.

This point is made clear when Sauron shapeshifts into Halbrand, and she’s unable to continue the fight:

This is clearly a reaction of “oh, look, the friend I was in love with platonically”. That’s why she’s crying, and hurt and with this look of betrayal on her face, I guess.

Does Elrond know something we don’t?

Elrond was at Eregion the entire time, and he was the one who found Galadriel on the Glanduin, and she's a wreck:

Elrond later finds the scroll with the Southlands bloodline and puts two and two together (Halbrand lied about his identity), however, it was only in 2x01 that he discovers that he was actually Sauron in disguise, when Galadriel is forced to reveal it to him, and to Gil-galad.

And his first reaction is odd: “How could you?” And he’s pissed. Not “Gil-galad pissed”. But actually, outraged by the whole thing, which again, is strange because Sauron is the “great deceiver”, after all. Everyone knows this: Sauron deceives, that’s his deal. Why is Elrond so vexed at Galadriel?

And he’ll keep on rubbing it on her face, throughout the first episodes of Season 2, and all of this seems to have some sort of double meaning:

Galadriel: Sauron used me. And under his hand, I was played like a harp to a melody not of my choosing. Elrond: It was entirely of your choosing. Sauron looked inside you, plucked the very song of your soul, note by note, making himself out to be exactly what you needed. "The Lost King" who could ride you to victory. You gave him everything he wanted and then thanked him for it. Rings of Power, 2x02

How did Galadriel “thank” Sauron for giving her everything he wanted? What does this mean? What does Elrond know? 

When did Galadriel ever “let Sauron in”, exactly? Because in Season 1 they were merely friends and she resisted his offer at the end. Because she “felt it too”? But we didn’t see her acting on feelings, right? So this doesn’t make any sense.

I know many in our fandom have this headcanon of a kiss (or more) happening in Númenor, but I don’t think so. If any kissing happened off-screen it had to be after the “I’ve felt it too” scene, and not before. This leaves their time together in Eregion as the only possible option, here.

We don’t know for how long Galadriel and Halbrand were there together in Eregion; only that Gil-galad gave Celebrimbor “three weeks” to test his theory (craft an object that could save the Elves on Middle-earth), and that Sauron worked there “for weeks” (according to Elrond in 2x01).

The only argument against this possibility is that Galadriel started to suspect Halbrand could be Sauron. Which leads me to the next point:

The Halbrand = Sauron reveal in 1x08

Everyone assumes that Galadriel starts to suspect that Halbrand might be Sauron in disguise after she hears Celebrimbor saying “a power over flesh”. But is this true?

The episode itself framed it this way because they wanted to build up the big “he is Sauron” reveal, however we have clues in the episode itself that contradict this. Namely how shocked Galadriel was when Halbrand revealed to be Sauron himself.

She was in denial when Halbrand said “I told you I found it on a dead man.”, and tried to racionalize everything that went down between them, like him saving her on the raft, him fighting beside her against Adar, etc. She couldn’t bring herself to believe it, at first. Odd if she was so certain he was Sauron all along.

Galadriel started to suspect Halbrand was hiding his true identity (he might not be the heir to the throne of the Southlands) and that he could have a hidden motive in Eregion, yes. But why does this immediately equals her suspecting him to be Sauron in “fair form”, exactly?

Sauron is ancient and known for being a powerful sorcerer, cunning and cruel, yes. But he was also Morgoth’s chief lieutenant and sucessor, and Galadriel herself believed he was still out there, gathering strength, and followers to raise to power, again. Would Galadriel actually believe that a powerful and mighty being (super villain level) like Sauron would ever present himself as a mere “low man” (heir to a throne or not)? I don’t think so. Sauron is way too vain and arrogant to allow himself to be humiliated at every turn, and this could have been Galadriel’s way of thinking, as well.

My interpretation is that Galadriel suspected that Halbrand could be a Sauron loyalist (like Waldreg), and even working for Sauron (double agent), and not that he was Sauron himself. Why?

1) Sauron is Morgoth’s sucessor, and the Southlanders made blood oaths to Morgoth in the past.

This would make sense with the entire Southlands plot in Season 1, actually; we’ve seen how the Elves were so against the Southlanders because they sided with Morgoth, that they had to keep an eye on them for centuries. We saw this in Arondir scenes from 1x01: But the Men who live here have not [changed]. The blood of those who stood with Morgoth still darkens their veins.

2) Everyone loves to bring up Galadriel’s pride and royal lineage except in this case. Deep down Galadriel could have a intuition that “Halbrand = Sauron”, but I don’t think her pride would allow her to believe she had romantic feelings for Sauron himself (at that point), and she had two-three weeks time to racionalize her options. Besides, this was her main conflict in Season 2, not in 1x08.

This would also make sense with what Elrond said in 2x01:

However, and even if she had her suspicions, she also had time to brush it off, especially because she was in love with him. In 1x06, Halbrand shows up when Galadriel is about to kill Adar. This was after the scene where Adar talks about Sauron’s plans of “a power over flesh”. Meaning: Halbrand was nearby and could overheard Adar saying it. Maybe he talked about it with Celebrimbor for some reason. When people are trying to cope with unpleasant truths and are in denial, they come up with every sort of weird excuses.

This would also make sense with her scene with Celebrimbor in 2x07:

Galadriel is agreeing with everything Celebrimbor is saying here. “I blinded myself to what he was”. When did Galadriel “blinded” herself to what Halbrand was? Because this scene connects with Elrond’s in 2x01 (“you were blind”). The whole “King of the Southlands” plot was Galadriel’s idea, in the first place, and Halbrand reluctantly agreed to it: so that’s not the “being blind” bit. Again, a lot doesn’t add up here.

Galadriel could only have, truly, blinded herself to what Halbrand was while they were at Eregion, and she started to suspect him.  

And this line makes Galadriel extremely angry and explosive:

What is Sauron talking about here, exactly? The power of his gaze? Their stare competition? Because that’s all we saw back in Season 1. 

“The door is shut” is Galadriel saying: “f*ck you, you lying piece of sh*t, scumbag! You used me and deceived me (“Sauron used me. And under his hand, I was played like a harp to a melody not of my choosing.”)!”

Are you familiar with Fleetwood Mac hit song “Dreams”? “Players only love you when they're playing”? Yeah, that’s the vibe I’m getting from this scene.  

In short: there is no way all of this is because “Elves emotions are very strong”, or Haladriel was platonic, or the interactions we saw in Season 1 was all that happened between Galadriel and Halbrand/Sauron. Something physical (a kiss or else) did happened between these two off-screen: that’s the only rational explanation for all of this.

[melithril]

[Adar] Never Again

♫ - It Will Be Me - Melissa Ethiridge

A/N: For @marciamolitor13 on AO3. This is quite angsty and a bit long, but I hope its worth reading! Enjoy! <3

Every day began to feel the same. The same four walls, the same footsteps outside his cell. The same view of the wall before him, everything unchanging. The damp wood smell was not the most pleasurable of smells, either. His current circumstance was also less than desirable, but Adar's will was much stronger than the elves had perhaps anticipated.

They interrogated him every day, and every day he gave the same answer. They asked of Sauron's whereabouts, he would reply with ignorance. The torture grew each time, but so did his willpower. The elves would not believe him, but he was not lying.

Adar simply did not know where Sauron was.

In truth, Adar did not know why he was here in any aspect. It wasn't him that the elves were after. It was Sauron, he was the one they needed. But would they listen? No, they would not. The elves believed if they kept Adar and tortured him, that he would either tell them what they wanted to know, or Sauron would show up and save him.

What they had failed to realise, however, is that Adar and Sauron were far from friends. Even on his best day, Sauron would not save Adar from anything. Despite all of his protests to the elves about this very thing, they chose to turn a blind eye,believing entirely in their cause. Adar pitied them, more for wasting their own time than his situation.

There were things the uruk was missing about not being chained up like a dog. Fresh air, fresh food, the ability to walk more than five feet without metal binding him to a post. But, more than anything in the world, he missed you. Your scent, your arms, the soft kisses you pressed against his skin. Adar missed your beauty, the light you radiated in his dark world.

Now, he thought back to the first time you had met.

You had come to him in his hour of greatest need. He was alone, having suffered already at the hands of Melkor. You had found the uruk in the woods, quite wounded and leaning against a tree. Something compelled you to help him, and you were a skilled healer. You gave him some herbs from your satchel, and made sure his wounds were bleeding no more. Grateful, Adar allowed a small moment of vulnerability and let his eyes close. He was shocked to find you still sat with him against the tree many hours later.

"Hello," your voice was soft, like music to his ears. "I am glad to see you well."

"Why did you help me? We have not met, I could have been anyone."

"You still are anyone, elf with no name," you played, brushing a stray hair from his face. "I am a healer, it is what I do best. I could not just leave you here to die."

Adar simply stared at you, in awe of the kindness you had shown him. He wasn't used to someone being so gentle, without even knowing so much as his name. Still a little weak, he used up some of his energy and took your hand, graciously squeezing it.

"Thank you, stranger."

"You are most welcome, stranger."

Adar had joined you back at your home, a small hut in the middle of the forest. You offered him your bathroom to clean up, and clothed him in fresh linens you had lying around, albeit they were semi-ill fitting. After he had returned from the bath, he found a table of food and drink before him.

"You look fresh, you must feel it," you smiled, calm and welcoming. "Come, sit and eat, you most certainly need it."

Silently, Adar sat across from you and began to eat, feeling guilty for putting such a burden on you. His eyes had not met yours since he had sat down, a sign to you that he was nervous. You stood, kneeling down before him. Taking one of his scarred hands into your own, the uruk's eyes finally landed on your own, as you looked up to him.

"You need not fear anything here, mellon, you are safe inside these walls. I promise you, I will keep you safe as long as you need."

Adar went to sleep that night for the first time in so long, warm and comforted and with a sense of belonging. The last thing he thought of with his newly unclouded mind was that he never did tell you his name.

Commotion outside his cell brought Adar from his thoughts, though it didn't seem too loud. The feint sound of metal hitting the stone floors suggested to him, as a man who had heard his fair share of it, that it was armour and men inside it. Wondering just what had happened, Adar's head snapped to his door, eyeing the shadow that now had arisen on the wall just outside. A trip and curse from an all too familiar voice made his head spin.

Keys were inserted in the door keeping him trapped in the cold, stone walls, and as the iron bars swung open, your form appeared from around the corner.

"Adar!" you whispered, but with urgency behind your voice. You ran to him, though you did not throw yourself into his arms in case he had any injuries. He most certainly did, and the extent of which you were not expecting. "Oh Adar, what have they done to you?"

"Shh," he cooed, pulling you onto him, ignoring every searing pain that ran through him. "You came for me? Why would you risk your life like that, you could have been killed."

Adar's voice was raspier than normal, and you knew he had not been fed or watered properly in so long. You opened your flask, allowing him to drink. You stroked the side of his face, placing your forehead against his own once he was finished.

"I would not so easily abandon you, my love. I always said I would protect you, and I will keep to that word. I may be a healer, but I can also kill, too. They have harmed the man I love, and so they suffered the consequences. I am sure the elves will not take too kindly to their dead soldiers, perhaps we can make haste. Can you stand?"

"I can," he muffled out, as you helped him up and undid his shackles. Before you could do anything else, once he was free Adar's arms encased you, and he kissed you with a needy passion. You entangled your hands into his brown locks and kissed him back, stopping him from stumbling over.

"Come, Adar, I have a horse waiting. It is dark enough outside that we can escape undetected."

With that, you left, supporting Adar's weight as you went. You heard a chuckle come form your lover, and you looked up to question what was so funny to him.

"I find it humourous that you told me that the darkness would be the reason we were safe to escape, and not twelve dead elves that were at my guard."

You smiled, shrugging your shoulders. "Well, the darkness helps, no?"

Adar laughed again, a beautiful sound to your ears, as you made your ways across the field between you and the horse. Helping your injured lover up, you rode into the forest and headed for home. It did not take long, as your steed was among the fastest in the land. Perhaps two hours had passed and you were at your door.

The ride home had been silent, and you knew the experiences Adar had inside that prison would have taken its toll on him. You allowed him to sit, and fetched him some water and food. Gratefully, he began to eat. You headed to the bathroom and ran him a hot bath.

"Starlight," Adar spoke, beckoning you forward to him. You were pulled swiftly onto his lap, where he held you by the waist, resting his forehead on your shoulder. Silently, you held him. You knew that what he endured with the elves would have reminded him of his past, and for that you would not pressure him to speak. Instead, you whispered to him words of comfort.

"My love," your lips by his ear as you placed a kiss on his temple. "You are safe again. I told you when you first arrived here as a stranger that no harm will come to you in these walls. That remains true. I have you, and I will always protect you. There is nothing in this world I would fear enough to not follow through with my promise. You are my light, my love, and never again will I let you suffer in this life."

Tears fell from Adar's eyes in a moment of complete emotion, and you felt them race along your skin. Gently, you tilted his chin up to look at you, cupping his face with your hand and smiling softly. Your lips met his, pausing to give him time to reject. But, he closed the gap instead and rested his hand on the back of your neck. The kiss lasted for what felt like forever for him, and he pulled away to marvel at you sat before him. Taking the opportunity, you traced his features with your fingers and spoke.

"I love you, Adar. More than you could ever know, but I hope you feel it every day. Now come, let us bathe and rest, and as the sun rises tomorrow we can make this a thing of the past."

You would never know just how much your words meant to Adar. To have someone who cared so fiercely made his heart warm. To him, you were everything. He had found a new lease on life loving you, and vowed to love you to the end of his days and with everything he had left in his heart.

[rey-jake-therapist]

What's the deal with Sauron and children ?

There seems to be something we don't know, about Sauron and children. Among Haladriels we often joke/hc that Sauron wants to have children with Galadriel and that's why it's a recurring theme. But in all seriousness, we may ask : what are the writers not telling us ?

It started in Numenor, where we saw Sauron smile giddily at the sight of little girls running.

I'm sure many still think : "he was putting on a show for Galadriel". Ok but Galadriel herself didn't smile when she watched them, she just looked at them with indifference. And it's not necessarily a human thing to smile at the sight of children, many humans don't care for them.

Then there's a scene where Sauron as Halbrand confronted Adar, who asked him if he had hurt someone he loved, adding, "A woman ? Perhaps, a child ?".

Galadriel may have noticed that Halbrand seemed particularly tense when he asked if it was a child, because she told Adar, "eat your tongue".

Tbf, it's likely that this scene was just a red herring. The audience still had to believe that Halbrand was a man, and that he had a good reason to want Adar dead. Adar firmly believed he had killed Sauron at this point, so there could be only one reason for Halbrand to be so angry at him, aka he took someone he loved away from him. What I mean is that Adar asking him this question made very much sense, at the moment.

But the reference to children came back in season 2, when Sauron had a vision of little girls running in the vision he had first created for Celebrimbor. It could also, again, mean nothing, because this vision was for Celebrimbor, a make believe to hide him the fact that Eregion was under attack. But someone, I don't know who, noticed something interesting when they put the gif of the Numenor girls on top of the gif of the mind palace girls.

Do you see it ? How the kids in the second seem to continue the Numenor kids' running ?

It may mean absolutely *nothing*. And yet I find interesting that the writers chose to associate Sauron with kids not just once, or even twice, but three times.

Could it mean that at some point, when he was in Numenor, Sauron seriously considered the idea of settling down there, of founding a family and liviving as a human being ? He was in a repentance phase and had, in his own words, "given up" any idea of fixing the damages he had done after Adar betrayed him and turned him into powerless goo, so I don't think it's too far-fetched to imagine that he could have genuinely wanted to settle down, to blend with the crowd.

Or could it be, as @apoloadonisandnarcissus suggested to me, that Sauron associates children with the concept of innocence, an innocence he himself lost when Morgoth corrupted him ?

Saurbrand told Galadriel, about Numenor, that it was "a paradise rife with opportunities". The vision of Eregion he showed Celebrimbor had everything of a paradise. Even after Celebrimbor got back to work and was no longer here to see the vision, Sauron remained for a few minutes in his illusion, contemplating it.

It didn't escape Haladriel shippers' attention that the girl was a sort of Galadriel lookalike, and that his lover, whose face remained unseen, may have expressed Sauron's own doubts regarding his capacity to perfect/heal Middle-Earth without Galadriel and her light.

That said, neither the idea of having a family, nor the association of children with innocence, can be related to what Adar did to him. Adar definitely didn't kill a child of his (and it would be dangerously lore-breaking to claim that Sauron ever had a kid, because Maiars are supposed to be forever bound to their physical form once they conceived), and he isn't the one who stole his innocence either. Adar is the one whose innocence was stolen by both Morgoth and Sauron, actually.

So now it's your turn : do you have any idea about this ? If yes, please share :)

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

As we are now (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you explore your husband’s new form, and it leads to you breaching a rather delicate subject

Warnings: evil!reader, smut, oral (Sauron receiving, he gets rough but reader is completely on board with it), p in v, dom!Sauron but it’s kind of back and forth, reader and Sauron being deep in denial about their desire for a bit of normalcy

Note: part of the evil!reader collection. If you’re new, reader has been married to Sauron since before Adar’s betrayal and infiltrated herself as a smith of Eregion, where she awaited her husband’s return.

Mature content below the cut - minors DNI!!!

You burst into delighted laughter the moment you are in the privacy of your own chamber. The light, the smoke, the speech, the look—be still your black little heart and your poor loins, the look.

It was a good thing you had worked as closely as you did with Celebrimbor and so-called Halbrand before your husband had been forced to leave Eregion, for the Elven Rings were in great part your achievement as well, and so Celebrimbor had deemed that you had just as much right to learn what had become of them upon Halbrand’s return. It was also a good thing you were standing behind Celebrimbor, and that he was entirely enraptured with your husband’s divine appearance as ‘Annatar’ made his grand entrance, because the hand with which you had covered your grin could hardly conceal the shameless glee in your eyes.

To see his deceit at work is always a joy. But even greater is the delight of knowing he shall join you in your chamber shortly, just as soon as he is finished entertaining the awe-struck Celebrimbor for the night. You stand at your window, hoping your wait will not be long. You haven’t had the chance to be alone with your husband since he had returned to Eregion, and somehow the last moments before the promise of reunion always feel like the longest.

He moves within the shadows, as quietly as them. You do not need to hear the opening and closing or your door, or even the steps approaching you, to know that he is there, even before arms snake around your waist from behind and lips press to your neck. You chuckle, leaning into your husband.

“A messenger of the Valar. A being of pure light, sent to unlock his grandest abilities.” You turn around in his arms, and wrap yours around his neck, grinning. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Celebrimbor quite so close to spending in his breeches before.”

“How crudely you speak of your dear friend,” your husband pretends to admonish, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Can you fault a poor Elf for falling to his knees in the face of his greatest desires coming true?”

“Fault him? Of course not.” You lower your voice to a sensual purr, leaning in so that your breath warms his lips as you speak. “In fact, if I were him, I’d have done far more than kneel.” You shrug. “Or tried, at the very least. Surely, an emissary of the Valar is above such worldly temptations.”

His lips are only a moment too slow to catch your teasing ones. You nimbly slip from his hold and walk past him—to no destination whatsoever, for you know you are to be caught nearly at once and relish the short anticipation. You still give a small yelp when he catches your wrist and spins you around, pulling you flush against him. There’s hunger in his eyes, and playfulness, as he secures your waist into a hold not so easily escapable as the last.

“Not even the Maker himself is above admiring true beauty,” he says, lifting your chin with a gentle knuckle as his thumb brushes your bottom lip. “And you, my lady, are the most exquisite of his creations.”

He can pay you a thousand compliments, and you would still swoon each and every time. On the inside, at the very least, for at the moment you simply remove his hand from your mouth.

“Is that all you wish? To admire me?” you tease still, ignoring the impatient tick in your husband’s jaw. “It would be such a pity if the Lord of Gifts did not receive some form of gratitude in return for the blessings he carries. Does one as pure as you even know of what I speak?”

You hold his gaze as you catch the tip of his thumb between your teeth, giving the pad the lightest lick. Your husband’s throat bobs as he watches.

“Do enlighten me,” he rasps out.

And you fully intend to. His lips are so plump and tempting, close enough that you can all but taste them. You haven’t kissed your husband since before he left for Adar’s camp in Mordor, an obscenely long amount of time already.

“With pleasure,” you whisper—close, so close to giving you both the meeting of lips you so crave...

Not quite.

You push his chest, just enough for him to let you take a step backward with a frustrated little breath. His eyes hold a glint of warning, hunger that might just surface to end your little game if you push it a smidge too far over the edge. But in the end, you like to play, and he likes to indulge you. And it isn’t as though you are dallying about as you slide his outer robe off his shoulders and down his arms. In fact, you are quite unceremoniously hasty, and so your husband straightens his arms by his sides, letting the fabric fall to the floor in a graceless heap around his feet.

Now, for the grey robe beneath, covering him from neck to ankle, humbly adorned with only a simple pattern along the collar... you could, in theory, remove it the old-fashioned way. But you don’t feel particularly inclined to go through the hassle of lifting all that material over his head, and something wild is stirring in your chest, and it’s in your nature, after all, to do things just because.

You produce a dagger from a concealed pocket of your dress, grab your husband’s collar, hook the blade into it and rip! goes the dull fabric with a yank of your hand. Down to his waist the destruction continues, tear after tear as you pull the material away from his body so as not to nick the skin you so greedily reveal with the slashes of your blade.

He does not flinch once, save for a coy lift at the corner of his lips as you toss away the dagger and relieve him of the ruined garb, adding it to the pile of crumpled fabric on the floor. You pay it no more mind than you do his now bare torso, determined to admire him in all his splendor when you finally take him in, head to toe.

“You speak of giving something in return,” he remarks quite casually as your hands next reach straight for the fastenings of his trousers, “yet all you seem to do is take—the very clothes off my back, no less.”

You smirk up at him. “Well, I should like to lay my eyes upon the gift for which I am to repay you first.”

You pull his trousers down in one quick move, proudly stripping him of the last shred of divine decency with which he had clad himself for Celebrimbor’s benefit. He cooperates smoothly as you crouch to yank the pants off his legs one by one, then toss his modest footwear to the side as well, and when you rise back to your full height, your husband stands before you with not a stitch on him.

The most skilled of Elven artists could not capture the exquisite painting which graces your roving eyes. ‘Perfect’ doesn’t begin to describe him—not that you ever regard him as anything less. But in this specific form, he is the very picture of Elven beauty and grace, likely to enchant the eye of most, if not all beings of your kind.

He is much smoother than Halbrand was. The hair on his body is less evident, as light in color as the blond tresses framing his face and not as coarse to the touch, you determine whilst trailing your fingers down his arm, shoulder to wrist. He is no doubt appealing, but you had been quite fond of the dark smattering of hair on Halbrand’s chest, and will surely miss the equally dark trail leading the tantalizing way between his navel and cock.

Speaking of which—that part of him is as glorious as ever, and already quite visibly eager. It would require but a graze of your fingers to grow into his full hardness. But you purposefully avoid that particular bit of enticing flesh as your fingers next trace a delicate line up his thigh, taking a detour along his hip instead. You let your nails scrape his skin ever so slightly as they venture higher, feeling his firm abdomen twitch faintly beneath your touch. He is sculpted with perfect balance, the lines of his muscles painting a stunning picture of bodily strength without too dramatic of a bulk, still allowing for elegance. Your fingers ascend to his chest, traveling across its alluring plane, and come to graze one nipple, earning a hitch in your husband’s breath. Otherwise, he stands perfectly still, subjecting himself to your quiet exploration.

You circle him slowly, your touch uninterrupted as your fingers trace his skin on a path to his shoulder blades. In the meantime, you release his newly long hair from the silver headpiece he had given himself, letting it fall onto the heap of clothes on the floor. You come to a halt facing his back, as beautifully muscled as the front, and—for the love of the Valar you have forsaken, there is nothing objectively different about the shape of his buttocks, but you swear they have grown even more enticing than before. You give one an appreciative caress, fingers following the plump curve of flesh between his upper thigh and lower back, before giving it a most satisfying squeeze.

Your husband releases a short huff of a chuckle. You press yourself against him, still groping his behind as you brush his hair over his shoulder to press a kiss to the top of his spine.

“I find myself in quite the predicament, I’m afraid,” you murmur into his skin. “So exquisite is the gift, I cannot imagine how I am to pay in kind.”

“A gift, by definition, is not paid,” your husband says, giving you a pointed look over his shoulder. “But you may begin by putting an end to this teasing.”

You grin, giving his behind a sharp pinch with just a bit of nail scratch. That finally earns you an undignified gasp from his throat, followed by a scolding tsk as you turn him around by the shoulders.

“I am merely beholding your ‘natural form’, my lord,” you mock Celebrimbor’s earlier words, caressing your husband’s face and chest as you meet his scalding gaze with your sensuous one. “So I may know how best to worship it.”

You all but lunge forward to catch his lips, finally, after the wait of separation as well as your self-imposed delay—

A large hand clamps around your neck. It is your husband, now, who keeps you at bay, lips hovering one tantalizing inch above yours as he grouses, “I believe you mentioned something about kneeling.”

He pushes down on your shoulders with just enough force that you gasp as your knees bend, dropping to the floor at once. He might as well have reached down your throat and ripped the breath from your lungs with his fingers. You look up at your husband, standing above you in all his glory, the light of candles catching in his fair tresses in an ethereal halo. Yet most disarming are the pitch black depths of his eyes, trained onto you with devastating intensity.

“Well, my lady?” His tongue curls around the respectful title in such a way, it somehow sounds degrading. He tilts your chin even further back with a firm knuckle. “How is it that you worship your gods?”

You swallow nothing at all, eyelids fluttering as you stare upwards like a believer at prayer. He does this sometimes, playing along until he doesn’t, flipping the tables and taking charge in the blink of an eye. It almost feels like a physical stroke of your clit, creamy arousal gushing from your core in an instant.

It’s such a slippery slope. The submission. The rawness of it. You’ve both known what it was to be at the mercy of another before, one who had no such thing as mercy. But you do not despair, and you are not afraid. For this is not Morgoth, nor are you a slave. You are free to surrender yourself to him, and few things make you feel so powerful as his craving to be adored by you.

“I have one god, and one alone,” you murmur, holding his gaze as you embrace his legs, clinging to the flesh just below his buttocks and striving to look up despite the angle at which you then bend. “I kneel only to him,” you lay a kiss above one knee, “I worship only at his feet,” then the other.  “I would kill for him,” you kiss him mid-thigh on one leg, “I would die for him,” then the other. “I would live,” you place a kiss right to the side of his cock, “through endless torment,” as well as the other side, “only for him.” You rise on your knees slightly, and press your lips below his navel, pleading with your eyes. For what, it matters not. For anything he might give.

The growl which leaves your husband’s throat is more wild beast than Elf. He takes in his fists your hair and his own hard length, keeping you where he wants as he drags the tip of his cock from the base of your neck to your chin, as though splitting the skin upon the blade of his desire. Arousal smears a trail up your throat. He wants in.

“Show me,” he commands, his tip nudging at your quivering lips. “Show me how you adore me.”

As if you had not already. As if you do not always. But you are beyond glad to remind him. Your tongue darts past your lips to give the slit a sole lick. As he releases his cock to plant his hand onto your shoulder instead, you take hold of his length yourself to flatten it against his stomach. You spare a moment to admire it, so promisingly full and flushed with want, then press your lips to the underside, right at the base, and work your way to the tip with a string of doting kisses. How you love this most sensitive part of him, and cherish each and every twitch with which it responds to your affections.

His hands tense impatiently on your head and shoulder, but he needs not handle you into further action as you finally take his cockhead in your mouth, sucking gently. Then firmly, and over again, until you’re truly fucking him with your mouth, your hand working in tandem to cover the length you cannot swallow with each bob of your head.

The crease in his brow betrays his pleasure, though he stands above you tall and stoic as ever. Even when you swirl your tongue around his tip the way you know drives him wild, even when you reach underneath to fondle the sensitive sack at the base of his manhood. You wish he would reward your efforts with the groans and gasps you know he keeps lodged within his throat. You want to rip them out with your teeth, if need be. And so you take him deep, as deep as he can go inside your throat, all while piercing him with your wanton gaze.

Your husband curses. His fist in your hair tightens, tugs at the roots with just enough force that it stings most deliciously. Control is ripped from you once more as he drives his cock into your throat at his own merciless pace, and if you could, you would smile at your victory in breaking his composure. You grab hold of his buttocks, nails digging into the soft flesh as he buries himself in your mouth, over and over. You’ve gathered more than enough skill over your years together to withstand such an act whilst still drawing some air into your lungs, even if only the barest minimum. Still, a tear slides down your cheek, and you groan around his length, knowing the sound will only add to his pleasure.

“Such beauty,” he muses gruffly, catching your tear with a gentle thumb even as he keeps thrusting. “Such ruin.”

His mind nudges at yours, such a stark contrast between the immaterial caress and his ruthless handling of you. The answer he seeks is written in your eyes, your mind, the same message ringing out over and over from every corner of your being: Grip me, keep me, ruin me. Spill in my mouth. Fill it with your taste. Give me everything.

The enormity of your need for his pleasure is what does him in. He doesn’t stifle, doesn’t deny you the sound of his wrecked groan as he ceases upon a final thrust, cock shoved so deep down your throat that your nose is buried in the fair curls at his base. You shut your eyes as he spills and spills, relishing the throbbing of his flesh on your tongue and the essence of him gliding down your throat. Breathing can wait. Not forever, but for a while.

Your husband, of course, allows it long before you’d have truly struggled. But you still pant for breath the moment he pulls out, and your forehead drops to his thigh as you wipe the mess left on your chin. Not a moment later, your husband tilts your head back, demanding your misty eyes to meet his.

“My love,” he breathes out, the lust in his gaze having melted into something akin to awe. “Oh, my love. How desperately you crave my pleasure.” His chest begins to heave, eyes growing feral with fresh hunger. “As I crave yours.”

He bends down, grabs your waist and hoists you from the ground straight into his arms, at last claiming your lips as you wrap your legs around him with an elated moan. It is as though his end did nothing but spur him into wishing for another, this time whilst buried in your depths. Barely a moment later, he lays you down on your bed, his bare body pressing your clothed one into the mattress. His hips are already nestled between your legs, grinding relentlessly as you write and whine beneath his ravenous kisses of your mouth, then of any bare inch he finds of your neck and chest.

He fists his hands in the shoulders of your dress, and he needs no blade to rip the fabric down your chest unceremoniously. You gasp, mildly indignated—you had been rather fond of that piece. But the sacrifice is well worth it for the unbridled desire on his face as he admires your bare breasts, as though it were his first time seeing them. “This is all I could think of,” he rasps out, “whilst I stood waiting at the gate. What I would do once I could finally touch my wife’s skin, her flesh...” He kneads one breast, staring in marvel as that wonderfully pliant part of you yields beneath his fingers, “This lovely, soft flesh of yours. Look how it calls to me.”

His thumb swipes over one pebbled nipple, indeed straining upward as though reaching for your husband’s touch, just before he descends upon it with the heat of his mouth.

“Yes,” you moan, arching into him greedily. “But my flesh has remained unchanged... for centuries,” you strive to argue as his tongue lavishes that most sensitive peak, teeth tugging in a mean tease at the flesh around it. “Tonight,” you gather your resolve, “I was supposed... to be exploring... you!”

With a great push on that last word, you flip him onto his back. Your husband lets loose a wicked laugh as his head hits the pillow and you roll on top of him, panting.

“It is hardly my fault that you are so easily distracted.” He grins up at you without an ounce of shame. Oh, the audacious little arse of a Maia (whom you would not have any other way).

“As if you are any better,” you retort, and swiftly prove yourself right. You dive much like a vulture aiming to snatch its prey, one hand sinking in his hair as you catch the brand new pointed tip of his ear between your teeth and tug, hard. Your husband gives a sharp grunt, hands flying to grip your hips.

“Hm, I’ve missed these,” you say, suckling at the tender skin as if to soothe the sting you purposely inflicted whilst your husband groans beneath you. “Remember when I made you spill simply from biting them?”

“A most admirable feat,” he growls, “for which I have not the patience at the moment.”

He means to lift his torso off the bed, but you hold him down with a firm hand pressed to his chest. “Ah-ah,” you shake your head, slowly rising to sit up astride him. “I wish to stay right here,” you say, gathering the skirts of your dress pooling over his crotch to help yourself to his newly straining erection, “and admire the view.”

And what a wonderous view indeed. From here, he is laid out below you like a grand feast, offering to the pleasure of your eye every little twitch of the muscles in his neck and abdomen as you give his length a few preparatory pumps. His hair is splayed out on your pillow in fair waves, like the halo of the divine being he now claims to be. You can nearly see why Morgoth had so wished to corrupt him, when he truly was a being of pure light. Though in Morgoth’s place, you would never have been so foolish as to fail in cherishing Mairon’s loyalty like the most precious gift that it was. In Morgoth’s place, you’d have punished your beloved servant with nothing but the most wicked of pleasures, and rewarded his terrible feats in your name with a throne beside yours and a crown placed upon his splendid head.

“Admire?” your husband raises a coy eyebrow, even as he throbs in your fist. “I thought you wished to reward me for my generosity,” he reminds you of the little game you had been playing at the beginning. You are no mighty Vala who can offer him everything he has ever craved on a silver platter, but you need not be, when you are what he needs most desperately.

“What better reward than this?” you smile, and sink onto his length in one swift move, pulling a moan from yourself and a brisk curse in Black Speech from him. Having engulfed him to the hilt, you plant your hands onto his chest, savoring the divine stretch. 

“How does it fit, my love?” your husband asks, thrusting up ever so slightly.

“It’s perfect,” you moan. “So... so perfect.” As always, but you can’t deny you’ve landed at an angle which hits especially right, even before you’re begun to truly ride him.

“Good.” Your husband’s smile drips with pride. “I made it for you.”

It takes a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. He has made this form, having fully recovered his ability to deliberately choose the shape and size of each part of himself, and—

“Oh,” you let out, your face crumpling with adoration as you melt on the inside. “You’ve gone through such trouble…”

You say it with false modesty, though this is barely a fraction of the lengths to which he had gone for you in the past, as well as barely a necessity. Even a shaft as inauspicious as the handle of a hammer could become an instrument of your pleasure in your husband’s hands, if it were wielded with his incomparable skill and intimate knowledge of your flesh. But whilst form alone is not everything, there is such a thing as a more or less natural fit for any given body. And this particular appendage with which your husband has endowed himself… the length and girth, every vein, every ridge, is specifically tailored to suit your needs. To stretch you perfectly, just on the right side of the light burn he knows you relish without causing you real pain, to rub and press exquisitely against your walls in all the sweetest ways and spots he knows by heart that you would most enjoy.

“No trouble at all, my love,” he says, hands roaming over your thighs. “I made each part of myself to suit my purpose. I desire no offspring, and have no bodily needs apart from those awakened by my wife. So, you see, the sole purpose of my cock... is to pleasure you. Us.” He brings your hand to his lips, the kiss he presses to your knuckles as reverent as though he were greeting you in the midst of an elegant ballroom rather than naked in your bed, buried inside you to the hilt. “I worship only at the feet of my goddess as well.”

He says it like a vow. This time, when he rises from the mattress to gather you close, closer, you make not the slightest move to stop him—distracted again. But you are beyond caring. Beyond teasing games. There is no slow seduction, no calculated rhythm to the manner in which you begin to move, hips rolling frantically into your husband’s.

“Yes, my love,” he urges fervently. “Take what you need.”

As you do, he makes quick work to relieve you of the remnants of your dress, jaw clenched as your heat swallows him over and again in its velvety depths. He pulls and tears at the fabric, throws it away as if it were standing between him and the healing of Middle-Earth itself, and his wife is at last bared atop him, bouncing prettily on his cock.

“Nothing beneath,” he remarks, a most delicious reprimand as he gropes at your waist, urging you in your movements. “Is such the custom among the ladies of Eregion these days?”

A short laugh finds its way through the string of gasps and moans that leave your throat. “I’ve not worn undergarments since you arrived at the gate.”

“Of course not,” he purrs, the twisted pride in his gaze going straight to the onslaught of pleasure already between your legs. “My beautiful wife, waiting for me with open arms and a bare cunt. Soaked the moment you laid eyes upon me, were you not?”

All the answer he gets is a pitiful whine, and your lips sloppily catching his in a needy kiss. Seated in his lap, with your arm wrapped around his shoulders and your hand sunk into his hair, you are in control over the pace of your thrusts as well as utterly helpless with adoration. He holds you in the circle of his arms so fiercely, tears gather at the corner of your eyes as you pull away to take in your beloved’s expression. His beautiful lips, slightly parted in pleasure. His eyes, darkened to near slits with unbridled desire for you. Only for you.

“I love you,” you all but sob, your hips clashing into his so ruthlessly, you would fear for the anatomy of any lesser being of male form subjected to such treatment. Your mind is as frantic as the tempest in your core, on the verge of unraveling. “I love you, I love you so much—”

“All the heart I have left is yours,” he says in a ragged breath, nails digging into your shoulderblades. “Yours, always yours.”

If that wasn’t enough, the heat of his seed filling you to the brim does you in. Your peak has you clenching around your husband’s throbbing cock as though you mean to cage him within you for the rest of all time, and what a tempting prospect that is.

You slack against him, breathing heavily into his neck. Incoherent fragments of endearments leave your lips, but not even you can tell what you are saying. Your husband cradles your head, shushing you softly through the aftershocks of your release, and lies back against the pillows with you securely in his arms. You hum tiredly as he pulls out, and use the little strength left in your limbs to shift downward so that you may rest your head on your husband’s chest. He needs no heartbeat, but it soothes you to feel it beneath your cheek, strong and slowly settling down after the wonderful exertion through which you had put his form.

“I take it, then,” he says into the blissful silence that has fallen between you, “that my new visage is to your liking.”

You give a soft, tired laugh. Lifting yourself enough that you can gaze down at your husband’s face, you cup his cheek with an adoring smile.

“I liked you rough around the edges, imperfectly human,” you murmur, fingertips grazing the fine lines at the corner of his eye. “I like you smooth and pristine, descended from a great cloud of golden light. I like this face as well as any other, so long as I am looking in my beloved’s eyes.” You press a short kiss to his smiling lips. “It does not hurt, of course, that he tends to be unbearably fair.”

A small chuckle rumbles from his chest to yours. “I do try. But I admit I wonder,” he goes on, growing thoughtful, “now that I am able to change at will once more... whether you would prefer me as I was.”

His question gives you pause, your brow knitting slightly. He does not find such a prospect hurtful, you feel, but he is rather curious to know the answer.

“Would you prefer me as I was?” you ask in turn. “If I were... changed somehow, as you have been?”

His eyes caress your face as his knuckles graze your cheekbone, deeply tender. “I cannot say I would not mourn, if only for a while, the exact arrangement of lines and curves which shaped your form when I first held you in my arms,” he confesses, soft-spoken. “But I would prefer my beloved as she wishes to be.”

Many times, he has been loving to you, but there is a particular flavour to the moments when he is so plainly… sweet. His words move you in a way that makes you feel oddly fragile, sending your heart aflutter as only a being much younger and less scarred than you might be able to feel. You lay your head on your husband’s chest, closing your eyes to savour the sentiment. Yet, as his fingers graze your skin in loving patterns, a trace of old sorrow creeps into your heart. How lucky you are to be lying in your husband’s arms, discussing whether you would prefer one face over another, when you had once wondered how many Ages would have to pass before you could finally be at each other’s side once more.

“I was ill,” you murmur suddenly, cheek still pressed to his heart. “When they took you. For a long time. Ill of mind. As though part of it had shattered and the splinters kept shredding at what little was left of it. I began to... slip, between reality and waking dreams that felt so real, I could no longer tell the difference. At times, I was grateful for it. Because in the ruins of my mind, you had returned to me with a crown upon your head, and you took me in your arms and I was whole again, if only until the fiction fell apart and left me even more bereft than I had been before. Sometimes, I fell into memories, reliving Morgoth’s torments as though they had never ended, but even within those I longed to remain forever. For there, you were with me, and no pain could compare to that of being without you. But once... once, I lived not the past I craved, nor the one that had come to pass. I was... someone else. Someone I had been before Morgoth. And so were you. In fact... there had never been a Morgoth.”

The hand with which your husband was caressing your hair comes to a hesitant halt. You feel him tense, in body and in mind, feel his disquiet upon hearing such words. But he remains silent, and allows you to gather his hand in your own.

“It came to me in glimpses, moments over time, strung together into one story,” your voice is soft in a foreign way as you begin the tale, your fingers idly playing with his before your far away eyes. “What I first felt was light—the light of the Trees, warm upon my face. The skies of Valinor, clear abovehead, the soft grass grazing my bare feet where I sat by the creek. I was… singing. A song of my own making which I cannot remember, and which I am not sure I ever truly knew. But it was cut short, for I was startled by a sudden presence. Rising in haste to my feet, I turned to find the mightiest of the Maiar of Aulë himself standing only a few paces out of reach, his beautiful face awed as well as a touch apologetic. You had not meant to disturb my peace. But so enchanting you had found my voice as you were passing by, you said, that you wished to capture it in one of your creations.

“And so, at your invitation, I began to visit the great forge where the wonders of your mind were brought into being. I was so… shy, I barely dared to address you. But there was such peace in the silences we shared, such ease, that even though we were near perfect strangers, I felt as though we had already spoken every word in the world, and nothing remained to be said of our existence which we had yet to confess to one another most openly.

“You asked me to sing as you shaped metal, as you gave form to wondrous gems. And when I did, you looked at me as though I were the most precious being to have ever breathed in the light of the One. At times, you would forget yourself, and whilst precious materials awaited to be shaped before you, your hands would find mine instead. And they were able to do so with ease, for the more times I joined you in your forge, the closer together we stood.

“But you would not tell me what it was that you meant to craft, shrouding the work of your hands, somehow, from my eyes, even when I looked closely. Only because I let you, though. I knew I could look past the illusion and peek at any moment, but I made a game of it—trying to guess in what manner of adornment you meant to capture my voice. And each time I returned, you would gift me the very jewel I had last guessed, whether wrongly or not. Not the creation you meant to achieve in the end, but lesser ones crafted in my absence, during uninterrupted hours of toil. ‘Lesser’ being but a manner of comparison, for they were the most exquisite I had ever laid eyes upon. But I would have delighted in wearing something as simple as a bracelet made of grassblades, had I known them to have been entwined by your hands.

“On the day your work was finished, my heart was filled with such sorrow thinking our hours together might come to an end. For however plainly our eyes and joined hands had spoken of our feelings, such was my timid nature that I had never dared voice them, and you had never risked bringing offence to my virtue by speaking of yours. Not until you had completed your work, and you finally revealed to me what your end had been from the very beginning. It had not been one jewel you meant to craft, but two. Two splendid rings—neither of power, nor of symbolic importance to any but you and I. With your gifts, you had woven my voice into the gems, and in a way impossible to capture into words, the light reflected upon it shone with the echo of my song. Only then, as you placed one of the pair into my hands, did you confess that you had loved me since the moment you had first heard my voice, and your greatest desire would be for those twin jewels to become the symbols of devotion with which we become wed. Nevertheless, were it not my wish to bind myself to you, the other ring would be mine, to gift, if I should like, to the most fortunate being with whom I would choose to share my soul, whilst you would content yourself to love me from afar, and wish me nothing but the greatest of joy for so long as existence should be. At once I confessed that such a thought was not only absurd, but also too painful to bear—for my heart had been yours since the moment I had laid eyes upon you.

“And so we wed in song and merriment, and we danced under the radiant branches of the Trees, celebrated by your kin and mine alike. We made love in a meadow, soft and slow, and for hours you caressed my skin with petals yielded by a blossom tree in honor of our union. Even that act of passion was somehow so clean. So pure. So...” you search for the right way to describe it, “...wrong.”

It’s as though a spell breaks upon that last, dissonant word. You roll off of your husband, settling onto your side to face him as he does the same. His expression is hard to read, some blend of unease and intrigue in the furrow of his brow.

“For the first time, when the fiction ended, I did not weep,” you tell him, your voice no longer dreamy, but returned to a more familiar fierceness. “For I knew not those beings I had seen. Devoid of purpose, endlessly demure. Light and songs, desire kept secret beneath bashful smiles,” you scoff. “I wanted back the husband that I loved, not some unrecognizable version of him wearing his face. Not some children’s story of infuriating innocence.” With a small shake of your head against the pillow, and a soft, mirthless chuckle, you shift closer into your husband’s arms, both of you adjusting so that you are embracing on your sides. “So, no, my love,” is the answer you ultimately give, “I do not wish for either of us to be anything but what we are, here and now, in body as well as spirit.”

Your husband only hums, deep in thought. He has not said a word since you began to speak, and the longer his silence stretches, the more you begin to wonder whether your confession has displeased him, somehow. Perhaps he does not wish to hear of this romantic scenario your mind had invented, despite its protagonist being but a different version of himself. Or perhaps...

You’ve rarely spoken of what came before. It is a surprise as well as a relief, then, when he does so without seeming too unsettled by the fact that you had alluded to his former self in the first place.

“I was not as you described, indeed,” he murmurs in the end. “Even with my original... disposition, I’d not have hesitated to make my desire known, should I have had any such inclinations towards another. I have always hated a waste of good resources—time is no exception.”

You smile slightly. You know that all too well.

“Nor was I some helpless maiden who shied away from the slightest of amorous attentions,” you assure him. “I doubt it, either way,” you shrug. “I can hardly remember.”

Elven memories do not dim. You do remember what your life before Morgoth was like, but the details of it—the faces, the words spoken, the feelings… those have long been tucked away in a deep corner of your mind, never to be spoken or thought of again. For what use was there to it? That life had been burned away, along with everything you used to be.

“Either way,” you go on, brushing off even the merest thought of that distant past, “it was but a dull fable, conjured by a broken mind. I healed soon after. Reminded myself why I needed to remain sane and strive to do all that I can towards our goal, whether you were to return in a day or a century. Or several,” you add quietly, holding onto your husband just that little bit tighter. His forehead creases with the same deep ache in your chest as he nudges your nose with his.

“Let us not dwell on the past, or things that never were,” he murmurs in his deep, comforting tone. “I am here. And I shall not leave your side again.”

There is still an oddly meditative lilt to his words, a certain sense of wistfulness that does not quite hold the same flavour as the longing you had felt so many times shared between you. But you make no attempt to pry at the sentiment with your mind. Especially as he closes the distance between your lips, kissing you with utmost gentleness.

The kiss deepens, lasts for ages, but remains achingly tender. Utterly disarming. Your legs intertwine, bringing your hips flush together in the tangle. His flesh finds yours, and before long you are joined. There is no power play, no teasing, not even the desperate, nearly pained gasps, wails or groans you so enjoy to wring from one another. Only every inch of him pressed against every inch of you, soft moans melting onto each other’s tongues, the languid pleasure of moving together to an end that envelops you in its warm embrace, leaving you trembling in your husband’s arms and him moaning your name like a most sacred prayer.

In its wake, you are beyond words. All you can do is bury your face in your husband’s chest as he holds you close still, his fingers drawing soft shapes on your skin.

“I’d have made my desire for you known,” he repeats his earlier words in your ear, hushed but fervent, “and I’d never have bowed before Morgoth. For no promise of power could have swayed me to risk your safety. And we’d have stayed servants of the Valar, pure and obedient. It is only as we are now, my love, that we shall be masters of our own fate, and rule above all others.”

You shut your eyes, nuzzle further into his neck, his words sending a shiver through your very soul. This life you have shared is not easy. Not pretty. But in the end, it shall be glorious, better than any other that you might have lived. Truly.

It has to be.

As you drift to sleep, you swear your husband’s caress holds the ghost of a tender petal brushing your skin.

Previous fic with same reader -> As one

Next fic with same reader -> A true gift

[lazyneonrabbitt]

"Lord Fa-" your words halted as you peeked your head past the curtains.

In the far end of the room he sat, in his arms a small bundle wrapped in fabric. There was an eery feel around it all.

Ever so carefully you moved closer to get a better look, quiet noises of discomfort reaching your ears now.

Adar sat in a chair, the bed next to him held what looked like a body under a bloodied cover. In his arms he held something with the most care in the world, even his glove laid discarted to the side and his scarred hand was exposed for anyone to see.

He was humming, a soft tune left his lips to soothe the newborn he cradled.

There were no other Uruks around, so all you could do was asume the father was slain. And seeing the blood you could tell mother didn't survive the birth.

You took in the scene, letting it settle in your mind. To remind you your sometimes ruthless leader was in his heart a man of family.

"Lord Father." You tried again, now closer and got his attention. He never stopped swaying the child, dividing his attention.

You had already forgotten why you needed him in the first place, but still you approached him fully and got a glance at the newborn he held. It was your first time seeing such a young Uruk and you fell in love at first glance.

Of course Adar noticed the spark and offered for you to hold the child which you gladly accepted.

"If he does not cry, he will be yours if you'll have him." The offer came the second a small hand reached for the necklace you wore. "He'll need a parent."

The gentle persuasion of your Lord Father and the clear interest in you from the baby Uruk boy had made the decision for you, you'd be his mother.

"You'll have to help me, seeing I'm nee to this and all.." an apologetic look was cast Adar's way, and he returned it with a kind nod.

"Of course, Heruin Amil."

[hellofeanor]

I know some people are upset about this, but

Adar had a complete and narratively satisfactory character arc and here's why.

(I'm saying "narratively satisfactory" because it satisfies his purpose in the narrative even if we think he deserved better.)

The two main problems I had with Adar's arc throughout most of S2 were as follows: his decisions to release Halbrand and then rabidly charge into Eregion after Sauron make no sense, and his character was inconsistent with what was established in S1. I complained about both of these things at length with people who were willing to listen, and some people who just smiled and nodded. But certain things in ep 6 made me start to rethink, one line in episode 7 really stood out, and the events of ep 8 put everything into perspective. So let's explore.

In 6, we have the scene of Adar and Galadriel speaking about Sauron. The major theme here is that he worms his way inside people's minds, insidiously exerting his will over them. Both characters at this point acknowledge this as fact. And in light of this revelation, Adar's "decision" to free Halbrand starts to make a little more sense. All it took was that one interaction for Sauron to get back inside Adar's mind and start influencing him again. There's no reason for Adar to do any of what he does in S2 unless he's under Sauron's control. Galadriel even says it herself: this is what Sauron wants. But Adar's mind and judgment are too clouded to see.

In 7, there's one critical line. "You think it was only you who put yourself in my power?" It's Annatar speaking to Celebrimbor, but he might as well be speaking to anybody here. It's pretty telling that this line shows up in most of the character-specific teasers, including Adar's.

Which brings us to 8, where everything comes together. Adar has Nenya, which has been shown to have healing powers, and a lot of people theorized that this might lead to him reverting back to an elven form. Which is exactly what happened. But the ring didn't only heal him physically.

Previously, we've seen Galadriel gain clarity of mind through Nenya: she better understands Sauron's ploy, and her part in it, and how she fell right into his trap. The exact same thing happens with Adar. When we first see him, crouching next to a rock, hiding his face, he's not just hiding his elven transformation. He looks like he's genuinely crushed. Not by seeing himself as an elf, but from the sudden ring-given clarity and the realization that he's been used by Sauron all along. His motivation and personality do a complete 180 here, and this isn't a plot hole or a contrivance. It's meant to show that the ring healed his mind as well as his body, shaking off Sauron's influence, and he's suddenly, for the first time all season, back to where he was at the end of S1. He's himself again. The searing desire to kill Sauron is gone, and he just wants to return to Mordor and build a home for his children.

He may have taken the ring because he thought it would help him kill Sauron, but in the end, it just helps him come to his senses.

Unfortunately for him, his actions can't be undone, and by sending the uruk to war, he's put them, as Annatar says 'under my control'. The minute Annatar asks Glûg what his name is, and Glûg falters in killing him, it's over. Sauron has control of the uruk again. He's wormed his way in. How do we know this for sure?

Adar's children wouldn't have set up that elaborate ruse to assassinate him. If this were all their doing, they would have just stabbed him and been done with it. The foreshadowing all season hints that Glûg may disagree with Adar's orders, but probably would never have done anything about it without a strong push from Sauron. The scheme was all Sauron and Sauron's control. Sauron orchestrates Adar's death in the exact same way Adar killed Sauron in ep 1, specifically out of spite. Sauron even appears to watch Adar's final moments: he wants Adar to know.

Is it a shitty way to die? Yes.

Is it a shitty plot twist undeserved out of nowhere? No, because the entire season has been setting us up for this moment. Hell, even some pieces in S1 have been setting us up for this moment. Halbrand could have killed Adar way back when, but at some point must have decided that Adar was more useful alive for a while longer, and a more elaborate form of revenge was in order. Sauron gains control of Adar and uses him as a puppet warlord against the elves while at the same time setting Adar up for the ultimate betrayal at the hands of his own children once he's no longer useful.

I actually love this. It's a horrible way to go, and I'm sad to see the end of this character, but it's a complete arc for him and makes sense within the narrative. It doesn't feel cheap or undeserved or at all surprising to me. It's sad, but satisfying.

RIP Adar, you will be missed. But at least you died... uh... feeling betrayed by your own kind as a result of your own actions that you realized too late were orchestrated by the guy you hate most. And if that isn't top tier tragedy, I don't know what is.

[sansaorgana]

— DECEPTION (IV)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Your relationship with Adar develops and you already see he is going to be a completely different kind of a partner than Sauron was. You're trying to gain your new husband's trust and you accompany him and his army during the attack on Tirharad where you get to witness the Orcs' battlefield havoc for the first time with your own eyes.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I am hyperfixating on this fic so much and it feels amazing to be so devoted to writing again. In general, the brainrot is real when it comes to The Rings of Power and I have not expected it but it is the most welcome. I already loved Season One but nothing could have prepared me for Season Two! 💕 Because of that, this fic will most likely have more parts than I have planned, so be warned already. I also might have an idea for a fic with Annatar but I would rather make it a long one-shot instead of starting yet another multichapter... But we will see... 🤔 I start my job soon and I honestly have no idea how I will be able to focus there to learn all my tasks if all I can think of is Adar and Sauron lol

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship, every trigger from S01E06 (death, battle, violence) + Reader is not very fond of the humans and considers them a lower form of life (she is Sauron's lover, okay? I do not share her beliefs because I am a human, too)

WORD COUNT — 5,570

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (IV)

Tirharad was close but the Orcs could not travel freely in daylight. Even hidden by the thick forest, when the sun rose high up enough, they had to hide. So, you were standing by your horse and watching them setting up a small camp in the middle of the woods. Adar was standing nearby and you could overhear his conversation with Glûg.

“Are we attacking tonight, Lord Father?” The Orc asked.

“Tomorrow,” Adar answered and squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Tonight I shall send the scouts to observe the village,” he explained and Glûg nodded at him before going away to tell the news to his friends.

Adar approached you and you slightly flinched, which was an unplanned and uncontrolled reaction. He spotted it and froze for a short while, refusing to get any further. You were surprised to see that he seemed to respect your personal space and he was ready to back off any moment after realising you were not comfortable with him being around you now. On the other hand, considering the tortures he had been through, it made sense that he was sensitive about the concept of violating someone’s space.

When you first had seen him, he had terrified you. And the idea of marrying him had been the most dreadful. But now you were slowly realising that as cruel as he was to his enemies – he would not be a husband as brutish.

“What am I doing here?” You asked him, quietly. Then, you looked up to meet his gaze. “If it was your plan to destroy Ostirith and its habitants all along… Why save me? Why take me with you?” You asked, genuinely wondering.

“We share certain… qualities,” Adar explained softly. “Loneliness, attraction to darkness. You were trying to tempt me so I would agree to your father’s offer and marry you. And you have tempted me indeed because I’ve been lonely for a few centuries too long now,” he admitted. “And it was the most endearing when I realised you were doing it all for your mother.”

You looked down, not being able to hold his gaze any longer when he mentioned your mother. Yes, it was true that you had been sacrificing yourself for her as well. But what truly had been in the back of your mind was Sauron and the fact that getting close to Adar and his army of Orcs could help your lover in his future schemes.

And perhaps Adar indeed was sick with loneliness if he couldn’t see how truly rotten you were.

“Lord Father, your tent is ready,” one of the Orcs approached you and pointed at the largest tent for Adar to rest in.

“Thank you. Prepare one for my wife, too,” Adar nodded at him.

“There is no need. That one is big enough for us two,” you pointed out and walked inside without looking back.

You looked around and sat on the wooden chair by the small table. The Orcs had no home, so they were travelling with some furniture in case they would spend their days in camps like this one. It was a very poor setting but you were not one of the Elves who had grown up in the rich and beautiful realms like Eregion or Mithlond, so you were not complaining.

Adar walked inside, carrying a heavy wooden chest with some of his belongings. You watched him place it on the ground nearby the bed.

“These are too important to lose or leave unsupervised,” he informed you and straightened his back before looking down at your face. “If you do not wish to be in my presence for now, I understand. I thought you would hate me. Perhaps you do but you do not show it as fiercely as I suspected you would.”

“I feel bad for the Elves you slaughtered inside Ostirith just because they were unfortunate enough to work under my father,” you admitted. “But watching this fortress tumbling to the ground was an oddly satisfying experience to me,” you added and Adar furrowed his brows. “It had been like a prison too many times,” you explained.

In fact, you mourned Ostirith a little but no amount of admitting it would change what had happened and you did not want him to see your weaknesses. You wanted to earn his trust as much as you could. His and his children’s.

“What do you keep there?” You changed the subject lazily and pointed at the wooden chest with your chin. You truly were curious but you wanted to ask in a careless manner, so he would not get too suspicious.

Adar hesitated for a moment before crouching down next to the chest and opening it. You had to fight every muscle in your body from trying to get a better look inside and to keep appearing unbothered.

But when he lifted up the Iron Crown, you gasped. A thrill went down your spine; a malicious shiver as your heart clenched inside your chest. You could smell Sauron’s blood on it and you immediately realised how your beloved had died. It was a twisted way to get rid of him and quite poetic, too – you had to admit it.

“You recognise the item,” Adar pointed out.

“Has my father not mentioned my education and intuition?” You cracked a nervous smile. “How did you get Morgoth’s crown?”

Adar only smiled at that and hid the item again, locking the chest with a key that he kept with himself.

“It is strong enough to kill Sauron – it has defeated him once. Not fully, so it seems. But with the help of even stronger magic, it could work again and this time it could finish the job,” he explained. “Now you know how important this chest is. I have shown it to you in case something happens to me.”

Now it was your time to smile mysteriously but you only nodded at him to show him you understood completely.

“Do you wish to rest now, my Lady?” Adar asked as he straightened his back and stood up. “I shall go to my children and answer their questions about the attack,” he said.

“I have nothing else to do, it seems, my Lord,” you sighed and leaned back on the chair as you watched him approaching the way out of the tent. “Unless…” You stopped him and he turned his head around. “Unless you would not mind my company. I am curious about the attack myself,” you added. “I am your wife,” you reminded him. “Your equal. I wish to stand by you always instead of hiding away in tents, camps and woods; left in the darkness of not knowing what is happening around me. I have never wished to be this kind of woman,” you stood up as if you were challenging him.

“You take matters into your own hands,” Adar commented. “I have seen that already back in Ostirith. You may join me, wife,” he emphasised the last word and it sounded a bit like mockery but you also spotted a hint of affection.

He extended his hand carefully towards you, still remembering how you had flinched before but this time you were in full control of your body, so you approached him, although instead of taking his hand, you put yours on his arm like a viper snake tightening its hold around the victim.

But your victim was powerful and treacherous, therefore you had to be the most cautious.

Adar deciding to attack in the evening of the next day only prolonged the anxious anticipation. You had never taken a part in any battle of this sort before.

When you had told your husband that you had never wanted to be this kind of woman – hiding away and waiting – that had been a lie. You had been like this with Sauron whenever he had been scheming and plotting somewhere. All you had been doing was warming up the bed for him. And whenever he had been back… He had been the most hungry and thirsty for you. That was all you had been caring about with Sauron. That, and to become his Queen.

But the cruel fate had taken your lover away from you and now it was time to prove your love and devotion to him. To help him – as simple as it was. You would bring the army of the Orcs to him and you would destroy your own realm for him on the way if you had to.

Sauron had always been quite… chatty. He had not only been drowning you with the countless affections and sweet words but he had also been sharing lots of his plans with you while playing with your hair or caressing the curves of your body. And perhaps he had been thinking that you had not been listening to any of it but it was not true. You had been a devoted listener.

And you knew his plan for the Southlands was to take over these lands and to make them his own terrifying realm. You knew his plans for your home were the most horrific and yet you liked the idea of ruling Middle-earth from the ruins of your homeland. It would be a symbol for you – a purge of the Southlands and Ostirith – your personal prison being turned into ashes and you becoming the Queen of them.

However horrific it would be, you knew it would not matter. You would rule alongside your lover and that was all you needed. You could be his Queen in the most precious gemstones and you could be his Queen in rags. You could rule over the beautiful Elves and you could rule over the filthy Orcs and it made no difference to you. What mattered was being by his side and getting intoxicated with his love and his worship.

Thinking of Sauron fondly, you wondered if you should try to wear your tempting nightgown again for this night as the sounds of the partying Orcs were reaching you from the outside of the tent. But then you thought that perhaps the nightgown had the opposite effect on Adar who simply did not like seeing you trying to seduce him. So, you just stripped yourself down to an underdress and rested on the bed, looking bored as you played with the necklace around your neck.

When Adar entered the tent, he tilted his head at the sight of you and then he sighed, sitting by the table and opening the notes from the scouts that had been waiting for him.

You kept observing him from the corner of your eye but he seemed to be uninterested in you, so you rolled your eyes and looked away. For a man claiming to be so lonely, he was also very cold. And you knew that in the eyes of the Valars, you were still unwed because the marriage was not consummated. However, you did not want to push him into anything because it could cause his mistrust and anger.

“I am scared of my uncertain position here,” you finally admitted and he froze before turning around to look at you, confused, still holding the piece of paper in his hand.

“What do you mean, my Lady? You are my wife,” he shook his head.

“No, I am not… yet,” you swallowed thickly and squeezed the pendant of your necklace in your hand.

You had no idea how to seduce sexually or convince him to join you in bed because Sauron had never taught you any of this – he had always been an eager lover.

Adar sighed and left the table to sit on the edge of the bed as he looked down at you. He extended his hand to brush your cheeks with his fingertips and then he allowed his hand to go lower to your chest, which was rising up and down in the pace that was going quicker now. In that moment, you could see clearly in his eyes that he desired you, so you could not understand why he was stopping himself from going further.

“Is it because of something Morgoth had done to you?” You asked, trying to sound gentle and hoping it would not anger him.

“No,” Adar shook his head with a very gentle hint of a smile. “It is because you do not want it willingly,” he admitted and retreated his hand. “When I agreed to marry you, I knew you were being forced by your father. You could have been assuring me that you wanted it but I knew you were only doing it for your mother and now, when she is safe, you are doing it to ensure your own position,” he kept explaining and you couldn’t help being surprised.

He was one of the most dangerous people you had ever met and surely one of the most brutal and yet he refused to harm his own wife in any way even if it was not love that had bonded you two but loneliness and the shared rot of the soul.

“Do you know that arranged marriage is against the Elven customs?” Adar asked with a sad smile.

“We are going against all Elven customs, haven’t you noticed, my Lord?” You swallowed thickly and lifted yourself up on your elbows.

“You are wearing my ring and I am wearing yours. We are wed for eternity no matter what,” Adar stood up to leave the edge of your bed. “And eternity is a long time for you to eventually warm yourself up to the idea of sharing your bed with me. And if not, I shall survive,” he shrugged his arms. “There is more to life than the pleasure of the flesh.”

You opened your mouth to say something – anything – and to deny his words, to keep tempting him somehow. But Adar interrupted you and saved you from any further embarrassment.

“Speaking of survival, I have something for you. Gifts,” Adar pointed at the chest that had been put inside the tent not so long ago by one of the Orcs but you had been ignoring it until now.

“I did not expect you to be a husband who would spoil his wife with gifts,” you tried to tease as you sat up fully now and watched him open the chest.

“These are not traditional gifts by any means,” Adar warned you and he approached the bed again to hand you a slim and beautifully ornamented dagger, made of black metal.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. In fact, it nearly made you sick and you tried very hard not to show how much this item had affected your senses.

It was Sauron’s dagger; the one he had been carrying with him most of the time. Adar had to take it away from him alongside the crown when he had murdered your beloved. You knew that dagger – you had been watching Sauron with it countless of times. And Sauron himself had been using it on you many times before to increase the pleasure of your intimate moments. That dagger meant the world to you and to hold it in your hand was like holding the hand of your lover again after all those centuries of separation and yearning.

“I-it is beautiful,” you stuttered out and took it, trying to compose yourself.

“You seem to be uneasy,” Adar furrowed his brow and you quickly came up with an excuse as you looked up at him with a trembling lower lip.

“It is of great beauty but I can sense a tremendous darkness within it,” you explained.

“It belonged to Sauron,” Adar admitted. “If it is too corrupted for you, I can take it from you and have a custom one made,” he assured you. 

“I can handle it,” you shook your head and squeezed your hand around the blade’s hilt. “It was just a slight disturbance when I first touched it,” you answered. “Thank you, that gift is very thoughtful, my husband,” you forced a smile and Adar sighed with relief. He extended his hand to gently grab your chin and caress your cheek before he walked away to the chest once again.

And when he turned around one more time, you gasped once again at the sight of a black breastplate. It was Elven – you recognised the ornaments in the shapes of leaves immediately.

“It belonged to one of the Elves we killed on the way. We collect their armour to later transform the pieces into the items we find useful but this breastplate I ordered to paint black since it might suit your size,” Adar admitted. “You march with the army and you need to be protected from the blades and arrows of our enemies,” Adar placed the breastplate on the chair next to the bed but you already stood up, all ready to wear it and see for yourself.

He assisted you in putting it on and you had no mirror to see how you looked, so you had to rely on his opinion on it.

“And?” You asked, excitedly.

“I think it fits you well, my Lady,” Adar nodded and you smiled widely at him. “And I see the gifts do please you.”

“Of course they do. So far, the books have been my weapons, but this feels quite empowering,” you admitted and tried to get a glimpse of your appearance in the reflection of your dagger’s blade.

Sauron had only been gifting you jewellery, dresses and nightgowns that later would end up torn or cut up with this very dagger. Sometimes, he had given you a book when he had wanted you to study it for him to help him expand his knowledge. And as much as you loved being spoiled and worshipped by him in this way, you also found it very dignifying to receive gifts of this sort from your husband.

“I want my wife to be respected not only because of being my spouse but because of who she is on her own. I want the whole Middle-earth to see the Dark Lady that you are,” Adar confessed in the Quenya language while he stood behind you and you felt his hands on your hips as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. You watched his distorted reflection in the blade of your dagger and in that moment, you swore, you truly wanted him and it scared you because it could mean that it was not Sauron whom you loved but the promise of power he had been presenting you with.

You felt the small amount of pain from squeezing the blade too tightly and it brought you back to reality. You shook these thoughts off and took a deep breath in. Of course you loved Sauron – you loved everything about him. Every inch of you craved and missed him to the point that you ended up caressing the hilt of the dagger for the whole night long, trying to feel the remains of his fingertips.

You have observed the fire of the burning villages from the Ostirith’s watchtower but now you were experiencing the Orcs’ havoc for the first time personally, walking into burning Tirharad alongside your husband. Dead human bodies scattered under your feet while the rooftops of the houses burnt as the Orcs kept destroying everything on their way as if they were in a frenzy, chanting the word nampat. 

You were wearing your new breastplate over your black dress and you had the dagger attached to it on your hip in case you needed it but there were no humans around anymore even though they had to fight bravely since the ground was also full of the dead bodies of the Orcs.

You were careful with your steps and it felt as if you watched the scene in slow motion – in a way, you were alone in the middle of this small hell. You let Adar walk past you as your own pace slowed down. Those were the lands your father had been the guardian of. Now they were burning and you only watched.

No, you didn’t just watch. You participated in it. You had brought death to the village of Tirharad.

“Is that what you wish to be?” You joined your husband’s side again. “The King of ashes?” You asked.

“I do not wish to be a King,” he remarked, “and my children do prefer the ashes.”

You joined the Orcs that were trying to get inside the tavern where the remaining villagers seemed to be hiding and they had barricaded themselves. However, it was only a matter of time when the Orcs would finally be able to open the wooden doors.

You felt a thrill of anticipation and excitement when they succeeded. You were not quite sure what was the item your husband was seeking – as much as he trusted you with some things and had even shown you the crown of Morgoth, he also kept some information hidden from you.

You took a step ahead but Adar’s hand stopped you from walking further by taking you by your wrist as the Orcs ran inside, attacking the villagers.

“Do not rush, my Lady,” he scolded you gently. “Let my children take them over first. You would make an easy target,” he pointed out and even though his words hurt your pride a little, you knew he was right and he had only done it to protect you.

You nodded your head at him and you waited a moment before Adar let go of your hand and walked inside the tavern. You could hear how quiet it got and you understood why since he had that effect on people. You took a deep breath in and straightened your back before following him, ready to face all those humans and make your appearance as Adar’s Dark Lady for the first time in public.

But when you walked inside, there was only one person that you could keep your eyes on as you gasped quietly at the sight of him. He was being held by two Orcs and his eyes widened at the sight of you, too.

“Arondir…” You whispered his name. “I thought you were dead,” you admitted.

He had not returned from one of his scouting missions and that had been one of many such cases lately when the Orcs had overtaken these lands. You all had mourned him already in Ostirith and you personally had been very sad about him in particular because you considered him to be one of your closest friends inside the fortress.

“My Lady…” Arondir was clearly confused to see you like this. “I thought the same of you when we watched Ostirith fall,” he admitted. “I have mourned you.”

“And I have mourned you, old friend,” you nodded at him and you stood next to Adar. You finally looked at the other faces and they kept staring at you with terror.

They knew you. You did not know them but they knew about you. Your father had been no King but he had been the protector and the guardian of these lands and you were his only daughter – a beautiful Elven maiden walking around the forests or riding her horse through this realm, sometimes talking to its habitants on the way. You were a part of their stories and myths, their songs and their legends and in their eyes you were a Princess. 

Now, they could not comprehend why you were standing next to the man who was the very reason of their doom.

However, no one dared to ask any question. Not even Arondir and you just knew he had to be dying of curiosity to know what had happened. Just like you were pretty curious to find out why he had never made it back to Ostirith, which seemed to had been his own choice.

In the meantime, after observing your interaction with Arondir, Adar approached him slowly, staring at your friend with the most intensity.

“What I seek. Give it to me,” Adar said in the Quenya language. 

“Let them go. I will consider it,” Arondir answered in the same speech and no trace of fear was spotted upon his face. You knew that your husband would not get whatever he wanted easily because you knew Arondir and you were aware of his stubborn and courageous nature. You were afraid it would lead him to his death now and that was the loss you would grieve surely, especially after witnessing it with your own eyes.

Suddenly, you started to think that, perhaps, being this kind of woman – who would stay behind and wait… Perhaps it would be better. Perhaps Sauron had been protecting your innocence and your fragility when he had not been taking you with him anywhere. Perhaps he had not wanted anything else except for him to corrupt you.

Adar nodded his head at the Orcs and the ones who had human villagers at the ends of their blades began to use their weapons and kill these poor people.You tried your best to remain unbothered by it but your heart pounded inside of your chest. You could see some of the people who were exclaiming in fear were also looking up to you to help them but you could not. You could not risk this fragile thread of trust that connected you with your husband.

And, unfortunately to them, no human life was worthy enough for you to risk ruining your plans to help Sauron in the end of all of this. They had to die, so the greater thing could emerge from it later. The Dark Lord who would heal all Middle-earth. Their sacrifice would be the most appreciated then.

“Why sacrifice their life for such a little thing?” Adar asked and in that moment once again you were confused by how cruel this man could be – the very same man who refused to touch you just to make sure everything between you two was consensual.

That made you feel special.

More people kept dying and Arondir screamed in anger into Adar’s face, then he looked at you, awaiting any reaction but there was none even though your eyes had to betray you a little bit and show some pain.

“Arondir, please,” you stepped in. “Just cooperate,” you tried to reason with him. “For the sake of our friendship.”

“I am no friend of yours!” Arondir spat out and even though his reaction was the most understandable, it stung your heart and angered you. 

You had never been able to handle rejection very well. The pain and compassion in your eyes turned into rage in a very brief moment. Sauron had always found your mood switches of this sort very endearing.

Adar turned around and spotted a wounded woman laying down with the blade pressed to her neck. She was oddly calm in the middle of this bloody chaos.

“The woman next,” Adar ordered and these three words seemed to have a very strong effect on Arondir. He screamed and grunted, trying to get out as the Orcs holding him struggled to keep him steady.

“No!” Some young boy shouted, most likely that woman’s son.

But you focused on Arondir as you smirked. So, it was love that had kept him away from Ostirith. It was love that had caused him to not come back. And it was love for a human to make it even more romantic in the cheapest way.

You had always heard stories of the Elves falling for the humans but you had never understood any of them. Why would any Elf fall for a creature so weak…? You were quite the opposite – you loved a Maia; nearly a God – and you often wondered what he had seen in you… a common Elf.

“Wait!” The young boy shouted at the Orc who raised his hand to strike the final blow upon the woman’s neck.

“No!” Arondir screamed at the boy and you raised an eyebrow.

���It’s under here,” the boy confessed, desperate to save his mother and Arondir looked at him with terror in his eyes. “It’s under here.”

“No…” Arondir whispered at this betrayal.

“Elves do love differently than humans,” you explained to the boy. “He might love your mother but he will still sacrifice her – and this whole village – for this one magic item,” you pointed out with mockery. “He does not understand why none of this matters to you. You just want to save your mother, am I right, boy?” You asked him and approached him as Arondir shot you a deadly glance.

But, in a way, you did not have to fake much of that compassion towards the boy. You knew what it was like to love your mother and to try to save her no matter the cost.

The boy nodded at you and you nodded at the Orc standing behind him to let him go. So he did and the boy grabbed the tool that would help him to get to the item.

“Theo!” Arondir called his name.

“I’m sorry,” the boy named Theo whispered and pried one of the stones that the floor of the tavern was made of.

Arondir kept grunting and trying to get out of the Orcs’ hold but they were stronger than him. Adar crouched down to get the small thing covered in dirty rags out of the hole under the stone as you stood above him and looked down with curiosity. When he opened it, a sword’s hilt was revealed and it had been forged in the same fashion as Sauron’s dagger or Morgoth’s crown. You could feel its dark magic as an ominous feeling sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, the loud rumbling reached your ears and you all furrowed your brows at the sound. You realised it was coming from the many horses going your way from afar. Someone was coming with an army to help the people of Tirharad.

You were scared at first. Scared of such a quick defeat. If it was an army of the Elves, your whole scheme would be over before it had even started. On the other hand, considering the fact you had been married to Adar for a few days, you could still save yourself by putting on a show of sobbing and explaining to the High King how much your awful father had been forcing you to become a part of this union. Perhaps he would believe you but you were scared of Gil-galad the most because he was so pure and made of such strong light that he would surely see through you immediately.

In such a case, it was very beneficial that your marriage at least had not been consummated.

Adar grabbed you by the sleeve of your dress and walked you out of the tavern. You could sense he was nervous as well and you two nearly bumped into Glûg standing in front of the building, anxiously waiting for his Lord Father to tell him the worrying news.

“The army is coming, Lord Father. We do not know yet who–” he started.

“I have a task for you,” Adar ignored him as he turned around to face you and Glûg shut his mouth as he looked down.

“What is it?” You asked, trembling slightly. The rumbling sound coming from the distance was growing louder as your anxiety was rising.

“You will go back to Ostirith and use your blood to extend the sword. There is a crevice – you know which one; Ostirith was your home. You have to insert the sword inside and twist it,” Adar handed you the hilt, still covered in the dirty rags.

You took it from him but you were out of words as you kept staring at him. He had to be desperate to give you out of all people such a task.

“That will open the dam,” you shook your head. “I do not understand.”

“Do it,” Adar insisted and clenched his jaw, staring at you intensely. “This way, you get to finish what I started and you get to be safe, away from the battlefield. You have no time to lose. Glûg will go with you,” he looked at at the Orc. “Look after my wife, Glûg.”

The Orc nodded at you, visibly proud of the job he was given.

You were still unsure of the whole thing, clenching the sword hilt covered in rags in your hands but you saw an opportunity of getting out of danger that was coming. However, when you looked at Adar, you realised it could be the last time you were seeing him alive and for some reason it made you sad a little bit. He was a mysterious man and you hoped to get to know some of his secrets before you would get back with Sauron.

“Are you sure you trust me with such a task?” You asked. He looked like it was a very important job to do and he cared deeply about it being done properly.

“I do not have many I can trust,” he only said.

“Clearly,” you answered and took a deep breath in before looking at Glûg. You nodded at him and you both ran away as fast as possible towards the woods.

MASTERLIST

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Season 2 marked the ending of “Haladriel” and the beginning of “Saurondriel” 

This season was pretty much the aftermath of “Halbrand is Sauron”, with Galadriel having to come to terms with that fact, and realizing that the mortal man with whom she shared a connection and some strong feelings, is actually the archenemy she has been chasing, according to herself, “since the first sunrise blooded the sky”.  

Galadriel spent the majority of the season heartbroken about Halbrand, and believing the connection they shared was nothing more than a lie and a deception on Sauron’s part. Several characters (Gil-galad, Elrond and Adar) rubbed in her face that “Halbrand is Sauron”. She went as far as to reveal to Celebrimbor that she did wanted to be Halbrand’s queen, and accept his offer in 1x08.

Those who follow me know I hated this scene at the finale, and that will never change: it was bad-executed, and a total mess that didn’t manage to bring the point across to the audience. But, in that scene, we see that Galadriel is still deeply “affected” by her feelings for Halbrand: she’s chasing after Sauron so fiercely but the moment she sees Halbrand, she stops. And it’s clear it is painful for her, because she knows that Halbrand is not real. And she believes that Sauron is just taunting with her (and the audience believes it, too).

“Fighting at your side, I felt, if I could just hold onto that feeling.” 

“They could no longer distinguish me from the evil I was fighting.” 

“Aren’t these the seeds you planted?” 

Sauron tells Galadriel all of these things through illusions, and evidently, she accuses him of deceiving her and all of it being nothing more than a trick on his part. There’s a real romantic subtext here.

Galadriel looked taken back by these words, but the fighting resumes short after. 

And you see, I’ve talked about this on my speculation posts about “Last Temptation”: if the “love confession” we were promised by Director Charlotte Brändström was only Sauron “saying stuff”, it would always sound as if he was being manipulative and deceitful, and that’s what happened in this scene. The fandom is puzzled as to if he’s being sincere or not.

For the sake of the argument, let’s assume he is. What’s his point here? Just getting the Nine? Because he could easily do that without all of this talking. My take is, and looking at the overall theme of the season (Sauron = Halbrand), is that Sauron is trying to prove that he and Halbrand are the same, and that the connection Halbrand shared with Galadriel was real. And he knows that Galadriel “felt it, too”. And that explains why Sauron didn’t stay in his Halbrand form, when it was the easiest way to manipulate her. He’s attempting to prove that the connection Galadriel felt was, in fact, with him, Sauron himself.

Still, Galadriel refuses to accept it, and continues to fight Sauron. He’s somewhat amused until she manages to cut his face, and say “the door is shut”. In this moment, Sauron realizes she’s not going to surrender herself to him, and stabs her with Morgoth’s crown to perform Dark magic, like I’ve explained before.

At first glance, it appears Sauron does it to kill her because of her rejection, and that he, in fact, hates her. In truth: he was using dark sorcery and his plan was to turned her into a wraith to join him in the Unseen World. And that's the reason why he uses the "past tense" when saying he would have made her the queen of Middle-earth; she's about to go into another realm.

In one of my posts I already analyzed Sauron’s capability of love. Sauron is capable of love, but he’s also corrupted by Morgoth, meaning his love is also corrupted. He’s possessive, obsessive, and jealous, and since Galadriel refuses to give in freely, he forces them to bind together, with the aid of the Dark arts. This was his way of saying "you are mine, now and forever".

And you all believe it was really Elrond on that tent. 

And that’s why Sauron makes that “evil happy” face when he thrusts the crown into her chest. The crown is infused with his blood (since Adar used it to destroy his previous physical form), meaning their bloods just bound. This is what he truly wanted.  

The only thing that’s preventing Galadriel from reaching the Unseen world, is Nenya, and that’s why Sauron wants the ring, otherwise it will stop the process. We all know what happens next. 

Where do we go from here? 

It’s impossible for the show to ignore or gloss over the wound Galadriel suffered from Morgoth’s crown, so that needs to be addressed, and will probably be a central piece on her Season 3 arc.

Galadriel gets healed, but this will be like Frodo’s Morgul wound in “Lord of the Rings”: it will never fully heal, and leave a last effect on Galadriel (Dark!Galadriel), and kick out her “Lady of the Light” arc;

Galadriel and Sauron are, now, bound together (and Melkor officiated the ceremony from the Void), and this explains their “cosmical connection” and how Galadriel is so attuned to Sauron for centuries to come;

Sometimes to find the light, we must first touch the darkness: this quote has been present in Galadriel’s arc in both Season 1 and Season 2, and as, yet, to come into play, which might indicate Galadriel might find herself struggling even harder with it on Season 3. 

I’m not sure if Galadriel believed Sauron and came to realized that the connection they shared (when she believed him to be "just Halbrand") was real, or not. But since the producers said Galadriel and Sauron’s connection will remain a central part of all seasons, they will have to sort of interaction in Season 3 (probably mind palace, dreams, etc.).