#mairon x adar

[helenvader]

A moodboard for the TROPBloodMoon Week.

The poem is by Sir Douz Dante.

[zaldritzosrose]

Just a little something for TROPBloodMoon Week. Prompt - Red.

"He offered me wine, red as a blood moon. He offered me wine, and on that dark and nameless peak, I drank it. I drank it all."

[maironscrotchlessbreeches]

No White Dove

Pairing: currently Adar x Mairon, planned Adar x femOC, Mairon x femOC, maybe Angbang?

Rating: E 🔞 includes non/dubcon and sexual manipulation

Chapter 1/?? (a lot)

Chapter Summary: The elf who will come to be known as Adar begins his Uruk transformation

Fic Summary: An exploration of Adar’s time in Angband, with Sauron after Morgoth’s defeat, slaying of Sauron, exodus to the Southlands, the events of Rings of Power, a S2 finale fix-it, and a little beyond. Hearts will be broken repeatedly. All aboard the Pain Train!

Next

The sound of the wind had changed.

He lifted his face from the stone floor, cold-cracked lips parted. Icy air drew tears from his reddened eyes.

How long had he lain there, chained within a crevice on that dark, nameless peak? He had lost track long ago, and ceased caring shortly thereafter.

He thought he heard footsteps hidden in the roar of the wind. He squeezed his eyes shut and curled his naked form even tighter, remembering the wicked cruelty in Melkor’s angelic face. 

The rebirth, the blessing would come, he repeated to himself as he had so many times before, if he could only persist.

Warmth. The scent of incense and clove. He opened his eyes.

Before him, barefoot in the snow, stood the most frighteningly beautiful being he had ever beheld. Not an elf like he, but similar in form to one, with eyes the color of sunlit honey and hair like the finest spun copper.

Without a word this not-an-elf knelt, offering a silver chalice. Heat radiated from its graceful body and the fragrance grew heady. 

He raised his filthy body into a pitiful crouch. He saw that the chalice held rich, vibrant red wine and he reached to take it with both trembling hands. The not-an-elf smiled and helped him tip the liquid to his parched lips, its other hand gently supporting the back of his neck.

The wine was thick, with an odd musky tang, but it freed his tongue from the roof of his mouth and he swallowed desperately.

“Slowly, Galgakh,��� the being said with a laugh like a choir of bells, its voice soft and warm as summer rain. “You’ll make yourself ill.”

Galgakh. Ill. He did not understand these words.

His rescuer settled alongside him and removed the chalice from his reach. The world around him seemed to spin and something lurched deep within his guts, a new sensation. But he was finally warm, and slightly less thirsty. He felt the sumptuous texture of the being’s cloak drape around his shoulders and he collapsed into waiting arms, his body wracked with soundless sobs.

With elegant hands the not-an-elf stroked his dark, snarled hair, cradling his head to its chest. Uncounted moments passed. His head swam and he reached for the chalice of wine. It found his hands and he downed the rest of it, not caring about the rivulets that trickled around the corners of his mouth.

Jeweled fingers found the soft flesh under his jaw and lifted his chin. Those otherworldly eyes, like amber lit from within, so close now that he could see delicate ginger lashes, searched his face with a hunger that matched the gnawing in his belly.

“Galgakh,” the stranger murmured.

Now he understood. This was his name. The warm flutter of breath on his cheek raised bumps on his arms.

Galgakh’s savior pressed its lips to his, impossibly soft yet fierce and wanting. A tremor rippled down his spine and he suddenly felt like his skin was too tight to contain his flesh. A dull ache, not unpleasant, kindled like a flame low between his hips and began to grow. His fëa was silent but his heart pounded like a drum in his chest. Galgakh returned the kiss with ravenous intensity, basking in this intoxicating flood of physical sensation. He tasted blood but whose it was, he could not say.  A breath caught in his throat and became a groan, the sound of it surprising him with its decadence. He felt his partner smile, flirtatious, arrogant even, but approving. 

Just as Galgakh’s hands began searching for an opening to the fine crimson robes before him, he found himself pushed away. That face of unearthly beauty was smeared with - blood? Wine? He could not tell, but the thought slipped from his mind as easily as it had come.

“Enough.” The silky voice was firm but coy. “This place is not for you. Come. Your family awaits.”

“Wait,” Galgakh said, his voice hoarse from disuse. “What am I to call you?”

The perfect form was already standing and turning to leave. It paused and glanced at Galgakh with a radiant smile.

“I am Mairon.”

***

The path down the mountain was winding and treacherous in the deep dark, but Mairon led Galgakh as if he had passed this way a thousand times. The heavy cloak Mairon had draped around his shoulders kept him warm and enveloped him in that intoxicating scent.

Stone spires even darker than the night sky began to loom ahead of them on the mountainside. Soon a great inky maw opened and they passed into the interior of the mountain. Guttering torches cast ruddy light on rocky walls as they passed.

“Welcome to Angband,” Mairon said in a low rumble that reverberated through Galgakh’s chest. “Welcome home.”

***

Galgakh hesitated, confused, when their trek ended in an unfurnished, almost cell-like chamber. Mairon beckoned him inside and he obeyed, but not without complaint.

“Where is my family?”

Mairon caressed the side of Galgakh’s face with a whisper-soft touch that sent lightning through his skin.

“You’ve been through so much,” Mairon whispered. “Take some rest and let us be sure you’re ready for the meeting.”

“No. Show me now.”

The side of Galgakh’s head erupted in pain as Mairon caught him with a whip-quick backhand. Mairon’s many rings opened gashes around Galgakh’s temple. He fell to his knees and before he could strike back Mairon was there kneeling with him, his golden eyes wide.

“Please, I don’t want to do that again. Let me prepare you,” Mairon begged. He stroked the bleeding side of Galgakh’s face, smearing blood down his cheek. Mairon brought his fingers to his own mouth and licked the dark blood from them, enraptured.

Galgakh wanted to fight, wanted to run but he was still weak from hunger and thirst, and the strange being before him held his attention with a mix of revulsion and wonder. He staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the door. Mairon was faster than him and slammed the heavy iron grate shut with a single graceful shove. Galgakh growled and lowered his shoulder to tackle his adversary, but Mairon easily sidestepped the sluggish assault. Galgakh crashed head first into the bars, opening new wounds on his scalp and back. He landed prone on the floor and with the same unnatural speed Mairon was sitting on his back, straddling his waist, a fistful of black hair in his pale hand.

Galgakh flinched as his head was yanked back and Mairon bent to whisper in his ear.

“Why must you do this to yourself?”

Galgakh took a breath with the intention of speaking, but Mairon nipped at the edge of his ear and all that came out was a grunt. Mairon’s wet tongue teased at his earlobe, then he sucked it into his mouth, adding punctuation with delicate, almost loving bites. Galgakh’s stiffening cock twitched shamefully beneath him. His body was betraying him, awoken by pure sensuality. Mairon moved next to his neck, a line of deep, biting kisses leaving a trail of marks toward the crook of his shoulder. Galgakh groaned and tried to refocus on the fight, but thoughts drifted in and out of his mind as if he was drunk. The only constant was the burning weight of Mairon astride him, legs tucked tight against his prisoner's flanks. That, and the hot growing tension deep in the pit of his abdomen.

Galgakh bucked weakly in an attempt to reposition his erection from where it had been pinned painfully between his body and the rough floor. Muscles tensed around him and Mairon jerked again on his bloodied hair.

“It need not be this way,” Mairon whispered. “I want to take away your pain, not cause it. You and I want the same thing. Let me help you, Uruk.”

Another unfamiliar word. Galgakh glared at Mairon out of the corner of his eye. Mairon stood with a rustle of perfumed robes.

“Good enough, this time.” He nudged Galgakh’s shoulder with his toes to roll him over and hummed in approval as he looked him up and down. “What a shame you’re unpartnered. Some elf-maid would’ve enjoyed that.”

He picked up his deep red cloak from the floor and tossed it to Galgakh as he swept out of the chamber, locking the door behind him.

The cloak cast a fresh wave of that warm spiced fragrance over Galgakh and his cock throbbed involuntarily. He was all heat and taut flesh crying out for release. Ashamed, he covered his body with the cloak and slipped one arm under it to stroke himself. He grimaced and bit back a moan. Mairon had left him engorged and he would only do this to relieve the need.

Soon he was pumping frantically, desperate to be done with it. With a soft helpless cry he came, shuddering, his breathing ragged. He lay panting until the warm fluid started to cool between his skin and the cloak. He used the fabric to clean himself and then pitched it toward the door. Mairon could take it back if he was inspired by such depravity.

Galgakh curled back into a comforting ball, suddenly exhausted, and allowed sleep to take him.

[thegimleafs]

As they lay there is out now on AO3!

please check the tags before you read!

[sauronism]

this got me fucked up for a bit. holy hell.

[hikarielizabethbloom]

When you break up, and you make it everyone's else problem

[ikomahis]

this was too good not to use bc it's 100% them

[macchiavato]

#TROPbloodmoon Day 2: Names When his voice has recovered from decades of thirst and screaming into cold unresponsive darkness, it is only right that his first words belong to the etheral man who saved him from it. "My lord Mairon." No sweeter words ever left his lips.

[gingeragenda]

[hailturinturambar]

SAURON & ADAR the two sides of the same coin.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

You sought ginger Mairon, I gave it to you

Currently obsessed with this pompous evil diva princess so high-maintenance the Orcs ide of march’ed him.

Jack Lowden played Sauron for a few minutes and made it iconic. He deserves more praise for his performance.

He’s everything I imagined First age Sauron to be; he’s Morgoth’s overworked secretary, he’s arrogant, he’s clueless, he’s creepy, he’s eerily seductive, he’s a tyrant wannabe but can’t get there, he gets betrayed by his lover, his physical form gets penetrated into oblivion. And those diva vibes, that glorious red hair, that jewelry. I need more of him.

[helenvader]

A logo made for the TROP Bloodmoon Week.

[zaldritzosrose]

A little late but I managed (thanks flu)...

For TROPBloodMoon Week. Prompt - Morgoth.

"Darkness alone is worshipful, and the Lord thereof may yet make other worlds to be gifts to those that serve him, so that the increase of their power shall find no end." ~ Sauron describing worshipping Morgoth in the Silmarillion.

[valardynasty]

The last son of darkness, Adar.

[princessfantaghiro]

OH MY FU....GOD, THIS IS SO ACCURATE I CAN'T EVEN!!!!

By @Kadiya

[greenleaf4stuff]

TROP x social media text posts

(screenshots via cap-that.com) (my other trop memes)