eyefire | but don't make me your enemy

[ Adar is barred from getting anywhere near the spider-guarded doors; he is limited to the floor above the dungeons where he lives, held at bay by the orcs guarding the passes. They respect him more than any other of the generals but cannot allow him anywhere near the upper echelons of Angband and only repeat what they were told, as well as a few whispers from those who have known him longer: Sauron is furious and bends all his artes and thoughts on the Black Star, raising him to shift his shape into more lethal forms (Draugluin and Thuringwethil are the teachers in Sauron's absence). Training the child. The orcs who march upstairs never come down anymore ... so they apologise, but they cannot let Adar pass or they will share the same fate. ]

[He has half a mind to take them out and go up anyway. They eventually get a fine the best outcome they could hope for in this situation and Adar turns and marches away, back down and down into the very bowels of Angband where he risks running into fouler things but there is also something that will draw Sauron's attention:

His way out. He knows of dozens of exits, the one blocked from his last little saunter into the wilderness is not the only one there is and while no one is looking he slips between the stones and passageways until he eventually ends up outside of the gates. Elves would do anything to know these routes but he brings none, nor does he go to fetch any but slips into shadows where vampires will not find him and the orcs are frankly not bright enough to look.

Come out little wolf, take another bite if you wish.

It isn't running, exactly, for he means to return–but if Sauron will not talk to him like a fucking adult, well. Why the fuck not it wasn't like he could take away from him what he had already taken.]

[ Sauron knows when Adar leaves. He has spies that are not of flesh and eternally cleave to the mountainsides, so when his little elf-uruk has a tantrum he sits himself down with Morgil on his lap and instructs his son to send his thoughts out. Speak to your father, beg him to return. If you love him, you will call to him.

And so, the child does. Across the wastes comes his voice as if on the wind around Adar but stemming from his mind.

Daddy, where are you? ]

[Well it worked, if not quite in the way he had meant it to.

Etelo? he both thinks it and says it aloud, unsure which would be more useful to the child, or Sauron masquerading as their child depending on how lucky he is.

You would have to ask your father for he has kept me away and will not let me come up anymore.

He was trying not to scream about the fact their child could possibly speak, certainly to more than other maia at least and he hadn't been there.]

Edited 2022-12-18 14:54 (UTC)

[ Words are difficult, thought-speech is not, and a week with Sauron has made the child learn a great deal in a short time. Etelo sounds sad, his hair being stroked by his papa.

Papa says you do not love us. Why are you leaving me? Was I bad? ]

[I am not far little one. He would not talk to me or allow me to see you. Leaving was the only way to get his attention.

I have loved you since before you were made, and I will love you until the world is remade. Your Papa knows that. That is why he made you, partly at least.

Stop being a little bitch, Sauron.

Are you well? I have missed you more than words can say.]

[ I am sad you have left.

Sauron offers the boy some snacks as the child focuses on mind-speech, letting him munch on soft honeybread and sip apple juice.

Louie and Tilly are funny. Papa says you may return if you will kill uruks. Please come home! I miss bedtime songs. ]

[I am sad I was barred from seeing you. Dragged away by his henchmen when I tried.

Is there a reason I should have been killing uruks? He did not ask me too before he shut me out. Has he told you that is what I am? An Uruk? He made me so. I used to be an elf, only. A lot more like you.]

[ Uruks are punished every day because of you. I don't understand.

He is more focused on the honey dribbling off his papa's fingers, giggling into the thought-speech.

I miss you, Daddy ...

And his attention shifts, the connection failing to leave Adar alone in the wastes. ]

[It is not that he isn't moved by his son's pleas, but an hour or two makes little difference and he lays in the dark, looking up at the sky that he so often missed.

If he were running he could be most of the way to Himring by the time he gets up to move again. He cannot work out what he possibly did this time. He had taken their child, as Sauron wished, to the gathering. He had not claimed him, had not drawn attention to himself, had taken him home to tuck him into bed and then never seen him again.

Eventually, he is back within the walls of the mountain he knew so well. Better, maybe, than anyone except for the lords who reined over it. if there are still orcs guarding the doors when he gets all the way up to Sauron's room, they will be regretting it if they don't let him past. He's had enough and apparently all the screaming has been in his name anyway. What was a few more? The spiders too are at risk of meeting his sword if they are still there. Fuck them all.]

[ The passes are silent and empty when Adar returns, the guards relieved by the usual shadows that swoop the corridors and act as far more subtle (and effective) guardians. He isn't allowed entry to Sauron's personal quarters but directed to the main miniature throne room where the lieutenant of Angband conducts his business of running Angband. There sits Sauron at the far wall wearing his crown, the walls shifting with wolves and vampires alike.

The herald that moves in front of the lieutenant's dais speaks up over the snarling din when Adar appears. ]

Father of Uruks, you will fight until it pleases Lord Sauron for you to stop.

[ And his gnarled little hand gestures to the weapons laid out on one of the walls as a confused-looking orc is shoved into the middle circle. ]

[It would be too much to ask to just be told what he has done wrong, wouldn't it? He eyes the room, but settles only on Sauron staring past the herald and ignoring every wolf and vampire whose eyes are fixed upon him.]

As my lord wishes. [Did he expect him to protest? To riot? His gaze lowers only so he can pick up a weapon. Two, in fact, two matching swords that he spins easily in his hands as he checks the weight of them and then when he turns to the orc he is as quick as a viper as he lashes out and stabs him in the stomach, ripping the sword upward as he imagines that instead of one of his children (he is sure they will be his) that it is his master there instead. The orc crumples to the floor, blood spraying him.

Doesn't want to kill them and cannot are not the same thing.]

[ Sauron's smile is soft as orc after orc is set upon Adar, sometimes in twos and threes, fours .. back to one ... a younger orc, more scared than eager to fight, an old one who can barely raise his sword, but by and large they are all orcs who have known Adar. Sauron has had the dungeons scoured for the uruk that Adar was most involved with over the last hundred years and thins out the ranks of those who might revolt with their father if he ever flees again.

It is hours before the bloodbath is over, the bodies fed to the onlookers as vampires shriek in joy and werewolves give their hungering packs something to chew on. Black blood slicks the floor like thick oil.

Only when Sauron rises from his chair does the noise in the hall die off.

He shares one last, spiteful look with Adar, then dismisses everyone but his lover. ]

[Even an Uruk of his quality should be tired after that. And he is, but the exhaustion is purely mental. Though he had tried not to look upon them, he of course knew them all. Every last one of them as the bodies piled higher and the floor became slick with black blood. He was painted with it too, with barely an inch of pale skin left to see by the time the hall empties.

Adar doesn't even turn to look at him immediately, wiping off his swords as best as he can on what little of his trousers aren't putrid before he slowly turns, careful not to slip on all the blood.]

Was the spectacle as you wished it to be, my Lord? [He is going to turn you inside out one day and not by how good he is at finding a prostate.]

You are an insolent, ungrateful, proud creature. As much as you may wear my illusions of fairness, what little was left of that in you passed into another months ago.

[ He walks down the dais, step after step resonating on his way toward Adar and his swords. Uncaring. Eyes burning, he walks right up to him and seizes Adar by the throat, real anger in his grip. ]

I am a Noldo. [What do you fucking expect? They didn't kill their kin and sail across the sea in stolen ships because they were fair and wise and full of grace. They had defied all of the Valar to chase the last remaining one. You could not be less than insolent and proud to do that. He should back away from the coming storm but there is true anger in him, too, and he neither drops his swords nor flees across the slick tile or begs for mercy like he sometimes did.

That isn't to say the hand around his throat doesn't frighten or hurt him, it does both of those things in equal measure, he just doesn't care.] What. [he spits, gasping for enough breath to speak.] Did I even do? [It is not the "running", this started before he ever considered leaving again.]

Edited 2022-12-18 16:15 (UTC)

[ The way Sauron grows larger, to full Maiar-height, speaks far more of his rage than the hand that swells large enough to grip Adar's upper-body in his fist and force those tiny blades to the floor. ]

You belong to me. Everything you are and have is at my grace. Nothing in these walls is yours by debt or because you are owed it. You grow too stupid in your simpering, no more my prized uruk than the corpses on this floor, all because you were given a gift and indulged yourself above my pleasure for you to do so.

[ The sconces in the walls flare to the ceiling, Sauron seething as his eyes brighten and his words echo through Adar's skull, forcing their way inside. ]

Do not believe in your foolishness there is nothing more for me to take away from you.

[Is this about their son? He barely notices as his hands are forced to release the swords, his gripping strength sapped from the pressure around his body and his mind racing as he tries to weave around the words Sauron says to find the core truth.]

Are you mad because I love our son? [You dumb shit of a Maia, that was what you wanted.] The son you decided we were having because it would bind me to you, ensnare me, trap me? Because you knew nothing would make me step from his side and so, yours?

[ He is jealous to his core, yes, of sharing that love. ]

I should have your limbs hacked off and you chained to a wall where you will still do your duties. [ There is a darkness to Sauron, touched by Melkor, that he has not shown to Adar in the longest time, cruel and terrible like Gorthaur when he earned the name. The sick, hateful things he is capable of brim to the surface as he hisses in Adar's face. ] Damnable elves.

[ He drops him without care, stepping back to shrink down, and is only stopped from passing judgement by a sweet voice echoing from the doorway. ]

Who is that? [ Morgil is nearer to eight years old now, aged by the knowledge and training a week with Sauron has burdened him with. He holds the hand of Thuringwethil who is draped in the leathery shadows that make up her huge wings; his hair kisses his shoulders and his eyes are a wary green, robed in black with the red eye of Sauron emblazoned on the front. He shies toward the vampiress when he looks to long at the gore-soaked Adar, then Sauron. ] Papa?

You could. [He agrees, and he should fear it but he is numb to the suggestion. To Adar, it almost seemed a better offer than the one he had now where he had free will and the ability to control himself and still did it. Sauron could do anything to him, he knew that, he had known that all his days in this place. He had shown it today. He had shown it the whole week when he separated Adar from their son, and over what? Petty jealousy that now soured what love he did hold for Sauron?

His head cracks on the stone when he is dropped, his arms are not quick enough to catch himself while they are half-numb from the blood being cut off. Fuck.

The voice draws his eye, making him push up from his spot as best as he can, ignoring the fresh blood that pours down the back of his shirt from where his scalp split in the fall.]

Etelo? Is that really you? [he cannot help himself, this may be the last time he gets to look upon him, perhaps ever, so he simply must speak, try to slip closer for a better look at that ray of sunshine that had mad these black pits so much more tolerable.] You have grown so much.

[ Sauron breezes past Adar where his uruk lies on the floor, taking Morgil into his skirts where the boy leans easily. ]

That is your father, Morgil.

He is ugly. [ The boy tries to whisper as if ashamed to be rude, looking doubtfully at Adar then Sauron. ] Daddy is beautiful.

He is only fair at home, [ Sauron explains, combing a hand through his son's rippling gold hair, eyes landing back on Adar, ] not when he takes any excuse to flee it.

[ Etelo looks confused but he loosens his grip on Sauron, finally breaking away to walk over the bloody floor toward Adar. He looks at him intently a few steps away, squinting. After staring at his face all over, a small smile quirks and the fearful apprehension melts away to be replaced with sheer joy as he opens up his arms for a hug. ]

... Daddy!

[He might have started a fight over that stupid fucking reasoning if not for their son's presence. It was a lie, Adar had not fled their home, he had been cast out. Having done both before he knows the difference well.

It hurts, too, to hear his son call him ugly. It is almost enough to piss off his master and lover and whatever else Sauron was to him and see if he can convince him just to end him here and now.

He stays still to not scare the boy, the only movement was his own green eyes that took in every detail about him. He is quite sure that somehow Etelo has gotten his uncle's nose, which catches him almost as off-guard as him wanting a hug while Adar is in this state. He of course scoops him up, despite the blood and gore, hugging him tightly.]

I have missed you so much. Every single moment. [Fuck your insecurities and jealousy, Sauron.] I am sorry if it upset you.

[ Etelo is surprisingly unbothered by the gore, happily leaning back to look at Adar's hair and investigate where it went above an ear. ]

Papa said you were coming back, so I was not so sad after a while.

[ Ahem. Sauron looks away. ]

When did you get into all these fights? Will you tell me?

I never actually left, little one. I was only drawing attention so I could plead my case. I will never leave you behind, okay? [He will fucking haunt this place if he has to to keep his son safe. Especially if Sauron is going to play dirty because Adar dared pay more attention to an infant than him, as if they did not have eternity.]

Papa wanted me to show I was still loyal and good enough to remain. If I am is up to him to decide. I will love you regardless.

[ The way the boy doesn't seem phased by Sauron having the last word in anything is smooth and unruffled as he glances over. Seeing his Papa nod, yes, Adar can stay, he tugs on his Daddy's sleeves. ]

You must have killed many of the uruks! Come, come and bathe! You must have dinner with me and Papa ... !

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