eyefire | but don't make me your enemy

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.

[That he didn't expect. He had instead been waiting for some insult or implication about why he was lesser than the maia and the babe who was somehow chewing on both Adar's hair and now his finger as well. Which would not have been a lie, even if it would have been a needless reminder of reality on a day when he felt strangely real for once. Like an actual person.

He lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when he moves and nothing hurts.]

I– [what game is this now? He cannot keep up.] Thank you, my lord. You are very generous. [He really would have just taken being left alone to mind the child for however long he was allowed to.]

I am.

[ It is a wonder anyone is fighting Sauron and Morgoth, really! He stands, brushing through Adar's newly silky hair, and moves off to return to his bedroom. ]

I have business to attend. You will remain here, and instruct the entwives on how to best care for a half-elven child.

[It might be all the torture. Maybe.]

As you wish, my lord. [Which he would happily do in the absence of being able to do any better by their child. The least he could do is offer him company and plant seeds of who the elves really were in his little brain and hope that maybe it will promote a gentler hand when he is old enough to face any.]

[ Six months go by so fast that Sauron, not especially a fan of logging time anyway, doesn't realise how quickly his son is growing. From an infant in swaddling to a toddler screaming gleefully across the main chamber as he flees from being dressed, it's only when he pauses in dressing for the day (hearing the calls of the entwives) that he peers around his door and notices the difference. The child has been growing far faster than any mere elf, maian spirit burning him swiftly toward the adulthood to which he is destined. ]

Where is the boy's father?

[ Usually Adar is two steps behind the little (delight) nightmare and those bouncing golden curls. ]

Changing, he set my coat on fire again. [Candle, fireplace, maiar fuckery? Adar does not explain further as he comes out of the corner shirtless and singed. Etelo launches himself at Adar's legs, giggling as he grabs onto him to hold himself up and stops him in his tracks.]

Reminds me of his Papa sometimes. [Often. Alarmingly often and not just because he was growing with an unnatural speed compared to anything but orcs that Adar has seen as a child.]

[ Sauron pretends not to hear that, thank you. ]

Morgil! Come.

[ He kneels down, barking the child's largely unused name. His force of will prompts the boy to pay attention and when he holds out his hands the child unsteadily totters over, climbing onto Sauron's lap. ]

You must dress, today is very important. Listen to your father. [ A scant look is flicked Adar's way. ] You can set him on fire as much as you like this afternoon.

[ Snerk. ]

[He can pretend all he wants, they both know he did hear it. Heard most things, probably, especially in this room.

Before little Etelo is willed over to Sauron, Adar feels a brief flex of his tiny hand clinging to him. It is not fear, it is just he is more accustomed to Adar and the name he calls him. Toddlers like routine even if they are little monsters in the making.]

Is something happening? [Adar asks, moving to grab the child's clothes instead of finishing dressing himself first.] I do not think he understands I am not fireproof unlike some. [The Entwives were lucky he mostly took care of him himself, honestly. They might not survive his fascination.]

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timeskip!!

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