eyefire | but don't make me your enemy

[ Orcs are worth nothing; Adar is lucky he is more elf than uruk, though Sauron will never tell him so. ]

He gets his quietness from you.

[ Sauron would not mind if the baby was tearing the place apart but there's definitely a calm to it that stems from Adar. As he helps himself to the meat on offer, he signals to the servants for a blanket to drape around his shoulders, less warm than usual as a part of him burns within the child. It will take some getting used to. ]

Do they not scream more?

[ The orc ones do, little monsters ready to sink their tiny fangs into the closest flesh. ]

[The looks Sauron is getting from him are certainly entirely elven in nature and cheek. No simple Uruk would give him such open expressions willingly.]

Why should a child scream? He does not hunger, he is not wet, he is not alone. Those are most of the reasons a child might fuss.

The Uruk children scream because of all of those things, and their [twisted] nature. Elvish children do not. [Perhaps Fëanor had and that was why his mother quit the world but he could not rightly say.]

[ He is rather certain the infant orcs scream because they are horrid creatures, he did after all see to their nature being bred into them himself. They are violent and survive well enough on their own. Why coddle predators?

He shrugs, stuffing a fork of meat into his mouth to chew. ]

I know little of children, having never been one.

[That was exactly why Adar seldom bothered to try to argue that particular line of thinking with Sauron, in truth. Even without the weakness it showed in him to care so much about such broken children.]

I have been a child and never a maia, so we will both be of use to him.

He likes the same songs my sister did. I had never thought to sing them again.

Has a name come to you yet?

[ He is practically attached to it. ]

[He could think of a dozen names for his son, but almost none of them felt like they had the right amount of threat to them that the child might someday need if Sauron was not near at hand to keep him safe. So he picks none of those and offers one he would not suggest otherwise, instead:]

Nárendur, perhaps?

[ Very subtle. Sauron slides a look at him, patient. ]

You have one son. Is that the name you wish to be his essi?

[ Sauron will take a great many liberties when the boy is grown and shape him in many ways Adar will not like, but this small choice is his gift to him for the part Adar has played. ]

No. [He will not lie, not over this, but he shifts in his seat so he is angled more towards Sauron, so he can look at him properly. The babe is still asleep against his chest, easily held by one tireless arm.]

But names have meaning, more in this place than any other. No one uses mine, and I assume you would not long use his if I gave him something soft or kind. Servant of the fire is what he will be, whether I will it or not.

[ Tilting his head thoughtfully, he brushes down the infant's back and makes a decision to circumvent Adar's wretched problem. ]

I can feel him, as he feels me. When he is too far from me he will wander back to safety under dark, that I already know as well as any mother who tore her flesh to bring their child into the world. [ His gaze flicks up, golden eyes steady. ] So, I see no need to wait and will give him a name that will be used within and without Angband, used to honour the place he was born and under the dominion of the one who allowed him to come to be.

He shall be Morgil, the Blackest Star. Born from fire under shadow. He will shine where no other could.

[ It will make Morgoth happy and it has a dramatic flair that will stick. Sauron inclines his head to Adar. ]

Now you may name him whatever you wish.

[His body is easy to give up, desirable too even. But his mind, his desires, his secret thoughts? He squirrelled them away like he was expecting an unforgiving winter and it was hard to force himself to push past the practised responses and allow himself to be seen to be vulnerable and to do so willingly and not just by force.

That is what this requires. To name his son something he might have named him if the world were still bright and shimmering and if he was still fair and carefree. That is what is asked of him.

Show me your heart might as well be the request. The "gift".

Every answer he can think of he fears even as he listens to the foul and prophetic name Sauron gives this sweet-faced babe who sighs softly in his sleep, breathing in time with Adar. Naming his children has always been a secret thing, whispered in the dark to ears that will likely forget him, never on purpose but in due course.

He looks down at the babe. There is nothing about him that seems like a black star. He leans down, brushing a soft kiss over his brow and breathing in the scent of new life that was not fouled by darkness yet.]

Let it be Etelehtio, then. [A name suited for whichever way their son might go, be it like Sauron or Adar in nature. Yet it was also a name with the taste of Adar's subversive wants in it.] Little Etelo.

[ Doesn't know why he's surprised that the name was so ... weirdly insulting. Backhanded, as insults go. ]

Very well.

[ The baby can be Etelo until he can walk and talk, Adar's little project. Sauron peers at the baby, looking him over. ]

He will grow quickly, your time will be best spent with him now.

[He's almost as surprised that Sauron allows it. The child is no orc, he will remember the name even if its usage does not last outside of this room. It is oddly satisfying to "win" something, even though it is a battle in a war he is sure he has already lost.]

Did you not just tell me I must soon return to my duties? [A whole lot of sarcasm belongs there but doesn't actually roll off of his tongue, he manages to make it sound like gentle inquiry even though he held the very same thought in his mind. If he leaves, the child will grow and will forget him. Will only know Sauron and entwives and Eru knows what else.]

I do not think it is worth the effort of Gothmog tearing your arms off, as that would clearly be the only way you will set down that child.

[ Sigh. ]

He has his own duties too.

[Adar looks at him for a moment, eyebrow raised before he just cracks up laughing. Enough so that little Etelo stirs and grabs at his hair while Adar tries to return back to the good and safe neutral.]

It might please him, to be finally allowed to rip me to shreds after all these years.

Likely.

[ Gross. He helps the baby find Adar's hair, tucking some into his chubby hand. ]

He will teach the child the way of the whip.

Perhaps he will get a taste of his own medicine, then. [For both the parents of the little one tugging his hair now were quick learners and not soon to forget a slight, of which Gothmog was likely to commit many in teaching their son.]

What else do you mean to have him taught? [There is nothing about this he likes except the cherub he is bouncing in his arm, but he would prefer to know what he can. If he can.]

The sword, the bow, knifework, sorcery where he is talented.

[ Hmm, what else. ]

When he is older he will be presented to the legions so they know him and his scent.

[ Not even Gothmog will harm a hair on the child's head, once he is known as Sauron's child, a maia-born elf. ]

[He wonders, not for the first time what their son will think of him when he is grown, if he thinks of him at all.

He is weaker than his child and his master, lesser by far than most in this place in everything but the favour he is given which itself was always tenuous and likely to change. His "duties" are vile and of no esteem to anyone willing to look at them objectively and not just as someone happy to have a growing army.

Adar supposes that whatever amount of time he is given here will have to do and then there will be only hope, such a rare bird to find here.]

They will not know what to make of him.

He will be a commander, great and fearsome. A rival for Doriath.

[ His hand curls around the baby's head, gently brushing through his blonde tufts of hair. Etelo curls more into Adar and Sauron's hand falls away. ]

He will know himself, that is all that matters.

That I do not doubt. [If the child was anything less than great in potential he doubted he would have ever seen him draw breath. A dead child likely wouldn't mean much to Sauron, perhaps even if it was his own. Adar did wonder, though it was not something he dared ask and hope for an honest answer.

He cannot help but be pleased when Etelo curls away from Sauron and towards him, though with this he is very mindful to keep his expression neutral. He tuts softly.]

Etelo. [He coos softly to green eyes that blink open to look at him.] Look at your Papa. [He says, tilting the babe just so he can look at Sauron properly even as he sucks on the end of Adar's hair he has in a vice-like grip with his chubby little hand.]

[ Sauron eyes Adar until the baby glances his way, then he holds the green-eyed stare. They speak without words and Etelo's mouth falls open, closing with a mmph as he looks back to Adar: he is most certainly not a normal newborn. ]

He knows I am here, it is you he finds curious. He cannot sense your presence the way he feels mine.

[ Bitch. Just sayin'. ]

Edited 2022-12-16 20:49 (UTC)

[It is a little too tempting to blow a raspberry at Sauron like the babe had been entertained by several hours ago. He settles for tilting his head and giving him a Look.]

My apologies for being but a lowly Uruk, little one. [He says, returning Etelo to the comfortable spot where he had been drooling on Adar's tunic. So sorry your papa is a little bitch, he couldn't help it even if he tried.]

Nothing of uruk is in this one. You were all elf when you made him with me.

[ The look he gives him is smug and slowburning, tinged by a hint of a smirk. ]

I remember, quite well. [He would die unable to forget it even if his head kept getting smacked into and by things.]

That may well be why I am such a mystery to him, though, for I do not think you have yet absconded with my fëa entirely and made me seem like an absence even while I am still here.

[ The way he waves his hand is an afterthought, the way the illusion that is bone-deep is cast over Adar once more, making him beautiful and altering him to the way he once was, is not. All the aches and pains seep away; the hair in the little one's fist thickens. ]

As reward for your part played in giving me my heir, while inside the walls of this wing you will look the way you did when he was conceived.

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