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honeyfarts666 · 9 months

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An Ocean of Tears

A Sauron Redemption Fic

Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Animal Friends, Secret Child

Chapter 1: Prolog: A Begining Centuries in the Making Chapter 2: Odd Companions Chapter 3: A Young Adventurer Chapter 4: The Wanderer Child Chapter 5: A Procession of Elves Chapter 6: A Great Adversary

New! Chapter 7: The Last Day in Rivendell on Ao3 or under the cut ↓

Torture Before the Sublime a smutty "deleted scene" (Also I made a mood board for Halbrand’s Garden)

Chapter Excerpt:

@coraleethroughthelookingglass @helenvader @restless-tides @rebelrebelwrites @ringsofpowerfans @starlady66 @veladelibrr @shia-the-buff @klynnvakarian

Estion was left on his own the day after the dreadful dinner. Galadriel and Elrond were summoned by Gil-Galad, leaving Estion to wait out the day alone. Though the distant trees of the valley called to him all day, he remained inside. He didn’t dare to peek his head outside of the apartment. The echoes of Gil-Galad’s words lingered in his mind. He had no desire to feel pointed stairs or hear spiteful remarks. And he had much to ponder. He sat in front of his lesson books for many hours but they remained incomplete as his thoughts carried him far away.

He had been called, “bastard,” and, “mixed blood.” It made him shiver, remembering the spiteful way Gil-Galad had spoken of him. Worse, was how true it rang. He had never met another elven child, they were a rarity. But the adults who met him always mentioned how, “different,” and, “odd,” he was. He never knew what they were referring to. But it must be his mixed heritage.

At some point around noon, he concluded that the Maia in the Greenwood was not his father, could not be his father. His mother had said that his father was a human. So, Halbrand of the Greenwood was disqualified. Surely, it was a simple coincidence that he was also named Halbrand. He vaguely remembered a lesson on mortals. They did not have the same naming traditions as elves and they often took the names of other, greater beings. So, his father remained a mystery. As did the Maia in the Greenwood.

The following day he was, again, left to his own devices. Estion overheard Elrond mention, “strategies for the coming war,” as he accompanied Galadriel from the apartment that morning. An hour after his mother was summoned, he knew he couldn’t bare another day, huddled up inside. Even though the house was crawling with Gil-Galad’s retainers, servants, and guards, Estion knew Rivendell like the back of his hand. He could avoid everyone if he wanted. He crept from the apartment and closed the heavy, wooden door silently.

Outside, was a short landing and a long row of steps leading down the the main path. That way would lead him toward everyone he wished to evade. There was no one in sight. No one except a pale, white cat sitting on the last step. It looked up at Estion and held his gaze. Estion nearly gasped. The cat had one green eye and one that was blue. It was a beautiful creature. There were a handful of cats that lived in Rivendell and Estion knew them all. He had never seen this cat before. Curious, he said, “Hello,” to the cat.

After his encounter with Halbrand, Estion had attempted to speak to every cat in Rivendell without success. The white cat blinked at him but did nothing else. Clearly, it did not wish to make friends. Or, more likely Estion thought, he simply could not speak to cats the way Halbrand could. It was a sad realization but he kept his head up. He wouldn’t let such a small disappointment get in the way of his great escape to the wilderness.

Over the far side of the landing, there was nothing but the slope of the cliffside and a cluster of trees, somehow growing from the hard rock. The leaves curtained the landing and provided just enough cover for Estion to jump down from the landing unseen by all except for the cat. His toes hit the rock first. Then his knees. Then his hands. He huffed upon impact. He stood up and brushed his hands off on his trousers.

On the ground, he was not level with any of the buildings. Every structure in Rivendell sat on raised platforms due to the uneven cliffside where the house was situated. He stepped under the floor of his home and walked among the foundation pillars. The section under his apartment was all rough stone. It could be treacherous to walk there. But Estion made his way down the slope toward softer grounds, only slipping his footing twice.

Rivendell wasn’t just one house. It was a series of houses and halls connected by winding paths and graceful footbridges. Estion and Galadriel lived in the east wing, a collection of ten apartments. Only three of them had been occupied before the High King arrived. But now, each of them was filled to the brim. The east wing was separated from the rest of Rivendell by a narrow bridge that ran over a particularly wild waterfall. Estion had been unable to find a way around it. So, if he was to play anywhere other than the foundations, he had to cross it.

He crept around to where the path descended from the foundation and met with the ground. Estion remained well hidden by the deep undergrowth that skirted the edges of the foundation. When he looked upon the bridge, his heart sank. For the first time ever, there was a guard posted at the bridge! It was one of Gil-Galad’s men and Estion did not like the idea of his movements being reported on. He would have to think of a plan to distract the guard.

But before he could form one, he heard a meow next to him. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see the white cat step through the underbrush and out into the open. The cat brazenly walked toward the bridge but stopped in the middle of the path. The cat sat and let out an atrocious yowl. The guard immediately looked at the cat and said, “Enough of that!”

The cat wailed again and again. After only a few moments, the guard couldn’t take it anymore. “I said enough! Foul demon!” He snarled as he marched toward the cat. The cat turned and scampered up the path, back toward the apartments of the east wing. When the guard gave up his short chase, the cat yowled again even louder than before.

The guard gave an exasperated yell and lunged for the cat, following it up the path.

Estion could hardly believe his luck. He made sure no one else was looking and dashed across the bridge.

After that, his journey was easy. He followed a rabbit trail down the base of the valley. He had used it many times before but was still unknown to all the elves in Rivendell. It was a perfect day. The sun shone brightly with only a few whisps of cloud in the sky. A gentle breeze danced through the air, carrying the scents of the forest with it: cedar, pine, and wild herbs. The birds called to each other and the deer played in the groves. It was paradise, far away from any other formal part of the grounds.

The rabbit trail followed along the edge of a bubbling stream. Violets sprouted along the riverbed, dotting the rich earth with their royal colors. Great oak trees gave shade and bushes of lilac and forsythia filled out the undergrowth. There was a long, flat stone near a crook in the stream. The sunlight that leaked through the canopy of leaves warmed the rock quite nicely and made it a lovely place to relax.

But that day, he was not alone. About a dozen cats lounged around the rock. They weren’t doing anything in particular. Just lazing about. Estion had never seen the cats of Rivendell gathered together before. It was odd but they seemed to be getting along.

Estion sat upon the rock, watching the water. Some of the cats acknowledged him, rubbing against his legs until he descended to scratch their ears. It was the best company he could have wished for. But still, he was quickly swept up in his own thoughts. War was on the horizon. The adults tried to keep it from him but he wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t a baby anymore.

He was lost in thought when the cats all began to scamper about in excitement. All the ones sitting with him on the stone hopped down. Each cat lined up and sat at attention. And then he saw him: the white cat. All the other cats showed him great reverence, bowing and making way as the white cat walked down the path, swaying his tail. His bi-colored eyes gleamed in the afternoon sun. The white cat lept onto the stone and sat next to Estion. The other cats quickly lost focus and returned to milling about leisurely. But they all avoided the stone, giving Estion and the white cat plenty of space.

Estion was certain he had never seen the white cat before. But there was something familiar about him. He was proud and elegant, but aren’t all cats? The cat seemed to be comfortable with him and that was enough for Estion. He reached out to let the cat smell him. “What’s your name?” Estion asked. The cat gave no reply. It turned to watch the river but it didn’t seem to mind Estion’s company. Estion tentatively reached out to scratch behind the cat’s ears. Much to his delight, the cat began to purr softly. Estion hummed and said, “I don’t know if I’m doing it right or if you just can’t talk back.”

The cat kept purring and it turned to look at him. Encouraged, Estion continued his one-sided conversation, “I wish I had someone I could talk to. Someone who would give me advice like Teonwer.” Estion glanced at his companion. The cat showed no sign of understanding him. But harm could there be in unburdening his heart to a cat?

“Teonwer is a forest cat,” he explained, “I met him in the Greenwood. It’s hundreds and hundreds of miles from here. I probably won’t get to meet him again. Or Halbrand.” Estion let out a huge sigh. “I wish I could tell Mother about Halbrand. He could probably help with the war they’re all preparing for.”

The white cat turned to him and meowed softly.

“I can’t tell her!” Estion exclaimed. “She would be so mad! She would never let me leave my room again.”

Meow.

“Because I met him when I used her ring,” he confessed. “I’m not supposed to go into her study at all! She can not find out that I used her ring.”

Meow meow.

Estion regarded the cat momentarily before saying, “So, you can understand me!”

The cat rolled its eyes and meowed in agreement.

Estion could barely contain his excitement, “I wasn’t sure if I was doing it wrong or if only Maia can do it.”

The cat perked up its ears and meowed again.

“Halbrand is the Maia,” Estion explained. “He lives in the Greenwood with the other cat I was telling you about, Teonwer.”

The cat gave no reply for a moment. He seemed to be considering all Estion had told him.

Estion’s head still pounded with questions. There was little in Elrond’s libraries about Maia. “What’s your name?” he asked the cat.

Meow.

“Ruorul,” Estion said, “ Have you ever met a Maia?”

Ruorul shook his head and gave a small hiss.

Estion rolled his eyes, “I’m not a baby! I know strangers aren’t always what they seem.” He did not appreciate Ruorul’s condescending tone.

Ruorul gave a short meow.

“He wasn’t scary,” Estion said. “Well, a little bit. But I think he was good.”

Meow meow.

“He helped me get home!” Estion defended, “If he were evil he would have tricked me. He would have made me stay forever or taken the ring for himself.”

Ruorul gave him a blank look. Clearly, not all cats were as kind and generous with their advice as Teonwer.

“What should I do?” Estion asked.

Meow meow.

Estion huffed, “I don’t want to get in trouble if it’s not important… But it might be really important.”

Meow.

“Maybe Halbrand can help find the enemy everyone is searching for.”

Meow.

“I don’t know!” Estion insisted, “If he is a Maia, he can probably do something!”

Ruorul stretched and yawned, clearly growing tired of the conversation.

“Well, do you have any advice?” Estion asked.

Ruorul stared at him and didn’t respond.

Estion’s face fell. “Teonwer always gives advice,” he said grumpily.

Ruorul flexed his claws and ignored his last comment. Estion took that to mean their conversation was over. He stood and began walking back up the rabbit trail, through the gathering of sleeping and playing cats.

He wandered around the valley for a few more hours, trampling through dirt and leaves. There was a strong possibility that he would ruin his clothes, but it wouldn’t be the first time. It was a beautiful day, but it was wasted on him. His conversation with Ruorul left him more unsatisfied than before. What good was it to talk to cats if they didn’t have anything to say?

He climbed up the steep slope to the house as the sun fell low in the sky. It was much harder climbing up than it was going down. When he finally reached the apartment, he was thoroughly tired.

To his surprise and delight, his mother was waiting for him inside. She beamed at him as he entered, “There you are!” she said with a chuckle, “I thought you might have gone adventuring.” She gave him a big hug and pulled a twig from his hair.

“I met a new cat today,” he remarked.

“Oh?” Galadriel asked as she ushered him toward their dining table. The evening meal was already set. Roasted lamb with potatoes and greens steamed on a tray and filled the whole room with its savory smell.

“He wasn’t very nice,” Estion said, betraying his disappointment, “Or helpful.”

Galadriel quirked her brow as they sat down. “What were you hoping this cat could help you with?”

Estion shrugged.

Galadriel gazed at him pensively, as if searching his face for the source of his troubles. “I know I have not been spending as much time with you as usual,” she said gently. “But it is only temporary. Things will go back to the way they were when the High King returns to Lindon.”

Estion’s frown only deepened. He pushed his food with his fork but didn’t eat.

“Estion?” Galadriel asked with concern, “What’s wrong?”

He gazed up at her for a long moment before he said, “Will the High King return to Lindon before or after the war?”

Galadriel sucked in a quick breath before composing herself. “I suppose it was foolish of me to try to keep it from you.” She took a sip of wine and continued, “We don’t know if there will be a war. But it is possible.”

Estion’s heart soared at the revelation, he wouldn’t be kept in the dark like a baby. “Who are we fighting?” he asked.

“An old enemy,” Galadriel muttered as she took another sip of wine. “A great deceiver...”

Estion raised his eyebrows, eager to hear more. But there were several loud bangs on the front door.

Galadriel furrowed her brow. “Who could that possibly be?” she muttered as she strode to the door.

The latch opened with a soft click and in an instant, ten of Gil-Galad’s guards filled the room. They wore full armor and carried their swords drawn. They surrounded Galadriel and pointed their blades at her. Her hand instinctively reached for her sword but it was not there. There was little need for her to carry weapons in Rivendell.

“Mother!” Estion cried as he sprang from his seat. He tried to reach her, searching for a way to slip in between the guards. As he searched, a firm hand gripped his shoulder.

“Now, now, Haradrion,” came Gil-Galad’s voice. Estion looked up in shock to see that yes, it really was the High King. He loomed over Estion, reeking of pride and arrogance.

Galadriel whipped around to face the Gil-Galad. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded.

Gil-Galad gave Galadriel a look of utter disgust. “I received an interesting report today.” He motioned for one of the guards to step out of the way. He entered the circle, forcing Estion with him. “One of my servants told me that Haradrion has been using Nenya.”

Estion felt the blood drain from his face. He looked up at his mother and saw her expression shift between horror and disbelief.

“Is that true, Estion?” she asked him calmly.

Estion’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t understand how Gil-Galad could have found out. It was impossible for anyone to have overheard him. And then he felt something move between his feet. He glanced down and saw Ruorul twisting around both his legs and Gil-Galad’s. Of course! That was why he had never seen him before. Because he was Gil-Galad’s cat! Ruorul must have told Gil-Galad everything he had said. Ruorul looked up at Estion and didn’t even have the good grace to look ashamed of himself. Estion shoved the cat away with his foot and he retreated back outside.

Estion glanced back to his mother as the whole room waited on his answer. He trembled as he said, “It was only once.”

He could not bare to keep looking at his mother as disappointment radiated from her. “Estion,” she exclaimed, “Why would you do that?”

Before Estion could speak, Gil-Galad answered for him, “So that he might meet with the Maia, Halbrand.”

Estion watched as Galadriel’s face went deathly pale.

Gil-Galad gave a nasty chuckle and said, “You are truly a master of deception, Galadriel. A fitting match for your mate.”

Galadriel shook her head, “No!”

“Don’t play the fool, Galadriel! I know who spawned your ill-gotten bastard!” he spat as he pointed an accusing finger at her.

Galadriel forced herself into a calm state, but Estion could see the fear that raged within her, just beneath the surface. “As you know, my king,” she said softly, “My son was sired by Halbrand, a mortal-”

“Liar!” Gil-Galad spat.

Galadriel shook her head.

“How long have you known?” Gil-Galad accused, “Have you been working with him this whole time? Plotting the downfall of us all?”

In an instant, Galadriel’s fear turned to rage. “I have never ceased to hunt Sauron! All know of my commitment to our cause!”

Gil-Galad’s expression turned to stone, “I will hear no more of your filth.” He waved to the guards, “Take her away.”

Two of the guards sheathed their swords and seized Galadriel by her upper arms. Galadriel remained stoic and allowed them to lead her from the apartment.

“Mother!” Estion called. He tried to break free but Gil-Galad’s fingers twisted in his tunic.

Galadriel turned over her shoulder and said, “Estion, do not be afraid. This is not over!” Before she was shoved out the door.

Estion and Gil-Galad were left alone in the apartment. Estion turned to the older elf and demanded, “Where are you taking her?”

“She is going where all traitors go, Haradrion,” Gil-Galad said coldly, “The dungeon.”

“Rivendell doesn’t have a dungeon,” Estion shot back. He kicked the King’s shin which earned him a sharp yank to his collar.

Gil-Galad smirked and said, “The wine cellar then!” He shoved Estion forward as he followed his men. “But you, dear Haradrion, will stay with me, where I can see you.”

#sauron #rop sauron #sauron fic #rop fic #trop fic #trop #rop #fanfiction #saurondriel #haladriel #saurgal #myfic #mymoodboard #an ocean of tears

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haladrielficxch · 2 months

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Author Reveals are here! Read below the cut to see who wrote your favorite fics!

don't let it in with no intention to keep it by alicuntisms for @nuclearnik

galadriel is in need of a human - halbrand is in need of a warm place to sleep. a bargain is struck. if only galadriel knew who she was striking a bargain with....

A Lust for Light by cozy_ships for @liminal-zone

The magic is always just there on the periphery of his lands, threatening to spill over. Sometimes he swears he can feel it in the earth beneath his feet, taste it in the water, clear and bright and so utterly unlike his own. The flowing currents of it had drawn him to these lands, led him to stake his own claim and build his fortress along the borders of the Golden Wood. He knows who resides within, hiding herself away amidst the forest’s glittering bowers.

Tempered by eye_of_a_cat for @cozy_ships on Twitter

She focuses instead on smaller things. She notices the edges of him: the sewed seams of his bracers, the way they press against the skin of his hands; the shadow at his neck where the cloth of his collar falls loosely; the way the fuzz of hair on his arms glows a little in reflected firelight. He is all edges and joins, scars and soldered seams. There will be a way to break him apart.

at the dawn of our folly, we took from the tree that was rotting by ichabodcranemills for @lisenberry

Stranded togehter in the middle of nowehere, political rivals Galadriel and Halbrand learn they have more in common than they could've possibly imagined.

Love is heavy and light, bright and dark by lisenberry for @softlighter

There was a time in Lady Galadriel Artanis Noldor’s life when all she had to worry about was keeping her face out of the sun and her feet out of the mud. Her nose in her embroidery and her hands soft as lambskin. Her brain empty and her mouth shut.

Many things had changed since then.

and I feel like I just got home by Lizzen for @eye_of_a_cat on Twitter

A third age haunting of a sort; an alternate version of life as seen through the looking glass, and the impact resonate.

She is Everything You Want by MyrsineMezzo for @alicuntisms

As he looked at that tight braid with the light reflecting in her hair, Halbrand realized he knew who she was. Everyone knew who she was. Galadriel Noldor. She was the best and the brightest; the pride of the university who had been profiled in the recent campus magazine because she was on a sure ride through the NCAA fencing tournament system even as a sophomore. He realized Mel had followed his gaze when he heard a low scoff.

“Noldor. A loner who thinks she’s above it all. Now there’s a challenge worthy of the highest of prizes.”

the only song i want to hear by MyrsineMezzo for @ichabodcranemills

5 times Halbrand kissed Galadriel in exchange for a secret, and one time he did not.

Set throughout the first season of Rings of Power.

Deeper, Darker Things Than You by nuclearnik for @formerlyIR on Twitter

He is effortlessly charming—and everyone besides Galadriel seems to eat it right up—but something hiding just below the surface, coiled and restless, calls to her.

don't answer me (i'm calling just to hear you scream" by poeticmemory for @the-sweet-hibiscus

One year after her eldest brother‘s murder, Galadriel and her friends find themselves in the sights of a horror-film obsessed killer.

everything (except what it is) by softlight for @myrsinemezzo

“And what are you going to say?” “That I can be civil if you can."

Rival teachers Galadriel and Halbrand sign up to run the school show. Things do not go as expected.

the Curse of Linhir by TheSweetHibiscus for @justatinycollector

The morning of October 28th I, along with my unwilling companion, managed to flea the decrepit town of Linhir. I had ran, cloaked in nothing more than a t-shirt and the threadbare soles of my brother's old hiking boots, nearly twenty miles to the Regent's port home in Númenor. Each step was agony – the ill-timed impromptu marathon more than enough to cause my lungs and thighs to burn like coal cinders. Yet it was nothing compared to the sinking dread — a fear I hadn't gotten far enough away.

By the Moonlight by justatinycollector for @wyrd-syster

It would seem to Galadriel, in their first few encounters, that Halbrand would always leave her with something. Later, she’d come to learn that he never left a place empty-handed.

The Highwayman AU.

stones that move (and trees that speak) by Wyrd_Syster for @bad-surprise

Halbrand wants power and Galadriel wants her inheritance. There is no cost too high, no price too steep, to stop them from taking what they want.

A Macbeth AU with a dash of Sleep No More.

#haladriel #haladriel fic exchange #ao3 fic #galadriel x halbrand #fanfiction #haladriel fanfic #ao3 works #fanfic event #rop #sauron x galadriel

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animatorweirdo · 7 months

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How to kidnap yourself a dark lord husband? Part 2

Part 1

(Second part for the crack fic. I hope you enjoy this one)

Warnings: Reader being a headache to her family, Sauron just dealing with her antics, Melkor getting robbed of his lieutenant and Manwe not getting paid enough to deal with this.

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

Nerdanel: *Sobbing* I can't believe our daughter would disappear again. What has Melkor's servant done to her mind to make her act like this?

Feanor: *Visibly angry* This is why the valars can't be trusted. They allowed something like this to occur to my only daughter.

You: *Kicks the door open* Naneth! Atar! I'm home, and I have news for you!

Nerdanel: *Startled* (Name)! Where have you been? And who is that beneath your arm?

You: *Carrying Sauron beneath your arm like a potato sack* My new husband!

Your whole family: YOUR WHAT?!!!

Sauron: *Waving at them awkwardly* Uhm... hey.

***

Feanor: (Name)! You can't just decide to marry someone you have only known for like a month! And he's one of the Ainur!

You: Don't worry. Mairon's a rogue, so he doesn't belong with the valar.

Feanor: That's not what I meant! Why would you want to marry him anyway?!

You: One, he's less loud than all of you. Two, he's hot, and three, he gave me a dog— something you have refused to give me for centuries!

Feanor: Seriously?

You: *Holding Carna* Dead seriously!

Carna: Woof!

Feanor: (Name)!

Your brothers: *Glaring at Sauron* Hurt her, and you're dead.

Sauron: *Deadpan* I'm literally the one that got kidnapped.

***

Melkor: Well, well, well... now this is something I didn't expect to happen.

Sauron: Hello, master.

Melkor: So, what's your plan with Feanor's daughter? Did you seduce her? Did you brainwash her? Is your plan to have power over Feanor's house by marriage?

Sauron: No. She just decided we should be married and forced me to come here. By the way, I've been meaning to talk to you about something.

Melkor: Huh?

Sauron: *Slides in a resignation letter*

Melkor: You want to quit? Why! Is it because you suddenly got a wife now?

Sauron: Master... it's literally been like 300 years since we even spoke. Everyone has literally gone in their own ways.

Melkor: What?

Sauron: Yeah. There's no one at Angband. We assumed you would never come back, so we didn't see a point to continue.

Melkor: Seriously?

Sauron: No hard feelings. I might come back if you come up with something, but for now, I have different things to deal with. *Leaves*

You: *Grinning at Melkor* Haha! Fuck you, your lieutenant is mine now!

Melkor: *Silence*

Melkor: Oh dear– I got robbed of my lieutenant before I could rob her father’s silmarils.

***

Your family: *Arguing with you in front of the valars*

You: *Arguing back*

Manwe: *Having an headache*

Manwe: Alright! Settle down. I have a proposition that might help both of you in this matter!

You & your family: *Look at him silently*

Manwe: (Name) Since your family wants you to stay, but you do not want to break your relationship with Sauron. How about this? During winter years, you shall spend your time with Sauron in Middle Earth, and during spring years, you will spend your time with your family in Valinor.

You: *Thinks about it* Yeah, sounds good to me.

Your family: Wait, it's the start of autumn.

You: Woohoo! Which means half a year without you!

You: *Grap Sauron and began leaving* Bye! I see you in spring!

Your family: *Sobs* (Name)!

#sauron x reader #sauron #sauron imagines #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion imagines #tolkien #silm fic #middle earth x reader #middle earth #middle earth imagines #feanor's daughter

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that-angry-noldo · 1 month

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wrong all over

T || Maedhros || 1k || ao3 || @thelordofgifs || (cw: implied torture, violence)

"Káno," Maitimo says, voice croaking.

Káno shifts at his side, and looks at Maitimo curiously.

Maitimo stirs and winces at the soreness of his body. The bed is flat; he feels cold. The room is bright. Káno turns away, and for a second Maitimo fears that he mistook for his brother someone else entirely.

His throat is dry, and his bones ache.

"Káno," he tries again.

"Be still, little jewel," Káno says, still not looking at him.

Maitimo never says no to his brother. He closes his eyes obediently, and leans into the touch when Káno's hand caresses his hair.

...

Maedhros wakes up slow, and though it was a long time, he still lacks the confidence in telling reality and the fruit of his mind apart.

The curtains are draped. He stares at them, trying to guess the time; tries to decide if it will be fit for him to go back to sleep, or if another day has already begun.

Candlelight flickers in the corner of the room. Maedhros' eyes travel down the wall. He sees a figure hunched in an armchair, hair unbound, parchments spread around him.

Maedhros does not move when he recognizes the figure as Maglor.

...

Maitimo's body hurts, so much he wants to weep. At least Káno is petting his hair, his fingers cold—Maitimo wishes to take Káno's hand and press it to his cheek, keep it there for eternity. Káno hears his thought; his touch is gentle as if he were tracing the outlines of his favourite harp.

"Káno," Maitimo sobs. "Káno, I hurt do much. Can you sing for me?"

He is not worth singing for; but it is Káno, Káno who loves him.

Káno laughs, a dangling and splitting sound. "I do not sing, jewel," he says. "Hurt a little more."

...

Wind howls outside.

Maglor's hair is dark, and he sighs something under his breath, brow furrowed in concentration. Maedhros flinches. How melodic that sigh is; how soft, how bright.

He hates it, when Maglor speaks, when Maglor sighs, when Maglor makes any noise at all. It makes his memory clash and his skin crawl, makes terror rise within his chest, disgust stick to him like a foul substance.

Maglor's eyes flicker when he hears movement. He looks at Maedhros, smiles weakly.

His smile feels wrong, his eyes are unwell. Maedhros falls still.

Resistance is useless. Lieutenant never allows it anyway.

...

"Káno," Maitimo sobs, and clasps Káno's hand. "Káno, I'm so tired."

Káno sighs. Maitimo flinches; he knows he overstepped, but—it is Káno, Káno who loves him. Káno raises his hand, and Maitimo is sure it will strike him. It would be deserved—Maitimo deserves punishment—but the thought of it makes Maitimo weep, makes him press his hands to his mouth to try and stifle his sobs.

Káno sighs.

"You are disgusting," he says. He takes Maitimo's chin between his fingers, burns away Maitimo's tears. "Be quiet; I cannot bear to see you so undone."

"Káno," Maitimo sobs, "Káno."

...

"Nelyo," Maglor says. "You should go back to sleep."

Maedhros' sleep is haunted by past terror; he only dreams of endless mazes or dark corridors, burning fires, crooked shadows.

Maedhros looks at the thing wearing Maglor's skin, and expects it to fall apart.

Maglor stands up. He looks tired; Maedhros almost pities him.

He turns his head—Lieutenant always wants Maedhros to face him. Maglor sits on the chair near his bed. Maedhros closes his eyes.

Something bitter fills his chest; something much like hopelessness and despair.

"Káno," he says, voice barely a whisper. "Will you sing for me, dearest?"

...

"Káno," Maitimo whispers. "You are so cold."

Káno hums, not paying much attention. Maitimo's head is in Káno's lap; Káno plays with his hair. Maitimo shudders, presses closer.

"You are so far away," he whispers. "You should be closer to me."

"You are testing my patience, jewel," Káno says, tugging at his hair sharply. "Don't make me have to put you in place."

"You hate me," Maitimo sobs, and yelps when Káno strikes him, throws him out of the bed.

He curls up on the floor, sobbing. He made Káno hate him, and there is nothing now he can do.

...

To Maedhros' surprise, Maglor sings.

It almost puts him at ease. Maglor brings his harp; Maglor starts an old tune, which makes Maedhros' think of stars. His voice rolls quietly. The meaning of the words slips past Maedhros, but he thinks they must be beautiful.

He looks at Maglor. The flicker of the candle confuses him; Maglor's fingers change, his hair reddens, his eyes grow golden.

Maedhros shuts his eyes, grits his teeth. It hurts, hurts so much. Maybe he is dreaming still; maybe he will not see Lieutenants face again.

Káno sings, and Maedhros' eyes are wet with tears.

...

Káno hates him; still he allows Maitimo to sit at his feet.

Maitimo knows not whether it is mercy; whether he finds it a comfort, that Káno is still willing to see him. Maitimo does not deserve it; Maitimo deserves a cage, to be left to his misery.

There is a voice in his head, familiar and fresh like clean water is fresh, that tells him it is not so. Maitimo knows it is wrong, for the only kindness he deserves is pain and punishment, and Káno understands it well.

He sits at Káno's feet, and makes himself feel grateful.

...

"Nelyo," Káno says, "Nelyo."

Maedhros' head is in his lap, head cradled in his hands. Maedhros clings to him, despite himself, despite his tears, despite sobs tearing themselves from his throat. He is a wounded animal; a dying beast, and if Káno has any mercy he will bring a knife to his throat.

Or maybe Maedhros will bring both of them down, clawing at Maglor until the end; maybe the knife will go through both of their hearts; maybe they shall face darkness together, drown together, burn together.

"Nelyo," Káno calls, "Nelyo,"—and then he sings.

Maedhros falls, falls, falls.

#silmarillion #silm fic #maedhros #sauron #maglor

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tanoraqui · 1 year

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I love post-Thangorodrim whump & hurt/comfort as much as, maybe more than the next girl, but sometimes I DO want to physically shake many fanfiction writers—especially modern au writers, for some reason—and remind them that the CANONICAL effect of Maedhros’s captivity and torment upon his psyche was,

…the orcs fled before his face, for since his torment upon Thangorodrim his spirit burned like a white fire within, and he was as one that returns from the dead. Thus the great fortress upon the Hill of Himring could not be taken…

Maedhros isn’t anxious and traumatized, he is FULL OF RESPLENDENT AND VERY EFFECTIVELY VIOLENT WRATH and traumatized

#maedhros #the silmarillion #you: modern au maedhros was in an abusive relationship with melkor or/and sauron and now he’s twitchy and sad #but don’t worry bc a new relationship with fingon is going to make it better!#me: modern au maedhros was in an abusive relationship with melkor or/and sauron and now he’s twitchy and FULL OF WRATH #and probably a cop or prosecuting attorney or/and VIOLENT NIGHTTIME VIGILANTE #…and a new relationship with fingon is going to make him better (and make fingon slightly worse; but in a cool way)#…I feel like I should clarify that I actively enjoy multiple fics like the ones I’m obviously vagueblogging about #I can dispute an imo faulty premise and still appreciate good writing and a compelling character arc #or yknow. good whump and h/c

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the-classy-villainess · 2 years

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Deceiver

Dark!Halbrand (Sauron) x Elf!reader

Summary: The daughter of Gil-galad is seduced.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: Dub-con/coercion + non-con. Toxic relationship. Possessiveness. Allusions to abduction. Mind & dream manipulation/control. Smut – unprotected p in v. Loss of virginity for both parties (trying to stay true to elf!reader, so sex = marriage). Minors DNI! 18+

Requested by Anon: “reader is the daughter of Gil Galad and Sauron seduces her with his beautiful words, but then Galadriel discovers Halbrand’s true identity and he becomes all dark, claiming reader and taking her with him to Mordor. Smut.”

I feel like I need to stress this because I’ve never posted smut before (especially for such a dark character). Please mind the warnings. If any of the things listed trigger you, don’t read any further. Halbrand is manipulative in this fic, to the point where the ‘reader’ cannot wholly differentiate their own thoughts from his. The sex is not consensual.

When he’d come to your chambers that afternoon you’d felt something had changed. There was a strange urgency in him, an urgency that saw him mutter only a quick greeting before his lips were on yours.

You welcomed his kisses, melted into them even, but his hands had never wandered so freely, and you couldn’t help but wonder just what had gotten into him when his fingers slowly rucked up your skirts and stroked the bare skin of your thigh.

“Halbrand? We can’t,” you gasped between kisses. “Not without my father’s blessing.”

He groaned into your mouth and clutched you that much tighter.

Even if you weren’t the High King’s only heir, it was unlikely that your father would bless the union of a man and elleth; not when such a union would bring only death and despair. Halbrand knew this as well as you did – it had frustrated him like nothing else.

“I care little for his blessing,” he panted, drawing away at long last to press his forehead against yours. “Ours is a fate that cannot be denied by any man, elf, or dwarf. Why else would we have been brought together if not for the work of some higher power – if not for the will of Ilúvatar himself?”

It was a lovely notion, a romantic one, that you had been brought together for a purpose – some greater fate like Beren and Lúthien or Idril and Tuor. You doubted either of you would have so great a part to play in the history of Middle Earth as they had, but your love could be just as special, just as boundless, if you allowed it to be.

“Let me have you,” he continued. “All of you, and no one will ever be able to refute our love – not even your father.”

“You do not know what you are asking of me,” you insisted, drawing back to meet his eye. “There are traditions – the feast, the rings, the blessings…”

“All of which can be forgone—”

“Only in times of war.”

He took your hands into his own and gazed at you imploringly. “Do you love me?”

You sighed. It was a question he asked more frequently now, as if he didn’t truly believe it when you told him as much, and it made your heart ache to think he doubted your devotion. You would do anything to prove it to him.

“I do. Of course I do. How could I not?”

He smiled, trailing his knuckles gently down your cheek.

“Then you know as well as I do, that you will never love another. Nor will I, for that matter.”

You will never love another. Only him. This crafty mortal man who had swept into Eregion with naught but the bloodied rags on his back and a charming smile on his face. He’d looked more a vagrant than a King the first time you’d seen him, but his quick tongue and quicker mind hinted at a greater knowledge gathered through life and lore, and you’d been helpless to resist him.

His arms had been safe, his lips had been soft, and his words had given you hope, the likes of which you hadn’t felt for centuries.

Those very same arms encircled your waist and drew you back into his embrace. Your head lolled forward onto his shoulder, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple.

“I would give you the world if you asked it of me. I’d gather you the greatest of armies, build you the tallest of towers. I’d fashion you the finest of rings, one fit for a Queen…” he trailed off softly, teasingly, and it brought a small smile to your face. “If only you would have me.”

You looked up into his eyes and splayed your hands over his chest, desperate to feel the steady thump of the heart beneath. One day it would beat no more, and neither would your own, for you would not remain in Middle Earth without him. You didn’t want towers, or armies, or rings. You wanted him, for however long you could have him, be it days or decades. He was right.

I will never love another, you agreed. What did old traditions matter?

“All right.”

He exhaled a slow, shaky breath that you felt reverberate in your palms, and his eyes, those lovely, mischievous eyes sparkled beneath his raised brow.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you laughed.

The word had barely left you lips before he caught you in a kiss, fiery and consuming and desperate in a way his kisses had never before been. You’d always known him to be strong, but his hold on you – the arm wound around your waist and the palm cupping the back of your neck – felt unbreakable in that moment. As if he’d never let you go.

“You’ve no idea what this means to me,” he murmured against your lips. “What this will mean for us – together, you and I, King and Queen, we will rule Lindon and the Southlands. We will unite all of Middle Earth under one banner.”

Your brow furrowed at his words, at how out of place they sounded, as if they were part of another conversation altogether. Something is wrong, you thought.

Tell him you love him, more than anything.

“I love you, Halbrand. More than anything.”

He shot you a slow smile, and his hold on you tightened. “I know you do, dove. I know you do.”

----------

No, you thought dazedly, it had not happened that way.

You loved him, you wanted him; you still do, you always will, a voice whispered back. There was something alluring in that voice, something persuasive, that made you think that perhaps it was right.

Then your surroundings shifted; day faded to night, and your back pressed firmly into the mattress of your old bed as he hovered over you, bare from the waist up.

His lips were on your neck, his hand buried inside your underthings – buried inside you. A sudden pleasure flooded your mind, an unnatural desire that barely felt like your own. You begged him to touch you, remember? You begged. You trembled with each pump of his fingers until your back arched, your walls fluttered, and you fell apart in his hold.

He withdrew wordlessly, and through the haze of pleasure you heard the rattle of his belt buckle and the rustle of fabric. Would you accept this man into your body? He seemed to think so, but you couldn’t remember for the life of you how this played out, not when such heavy desire clouded your mind.

“Halbrand…” Wait, you wanted to tell him, but your lips were strangely unresponsive.

And then he was on you again; peeling your ruined underclothes down your legs. His hands, warm and gentle, rubbed soothing circles into your knees, and you held your breath as he pried them apart and settled on the mattress between them. Your thighs twitched, as if you’d wanted to close them – had I? – but he held them firmly, with only a quick squeeze of warning to dissuade you.

His thumbs caught the hem of your shift and dragged it up past your hips. He stared at your bared flesh with a look that promised ruin, a look that made you feel young and naïve for the first time in centuries. Heat rushed to your cheeks as he met your gaze and pressed a gentle kiss to your folds. Then his hands drifted higher, gliding along your waist and rucking your shift up beneath your breasts.

“Exquisite,” he murmured against your skin, trailing kisses along your navel, over your ribs, between your breasts.

He settled atop you, his length, hot and hard and leaking, bobbed against your navel as he hiked your thigh over his hip. It was the blunt press of him against your folds that cleared the haze from your mind, and uncertainty bloomed full force in its stead. Calm yourself. You want this. You’ve always wanted this.

Yes, you thought. All your life you’d waited for one to call your own. That you had gone so long without finding your match had raised concerns – often such things were a bad omen for one’s future prospects. And here you were, body bare and open to a man you father hadn’t even met yet.

You want this.

I want this.

You love him.

I love him, you agreed.

He caught your lips in an all-consuming kiss, a distracting kiss, and swiped his length along your folds, once, twice, before finally easing it inside you. Your body was tense, walls tight against his intrusion, and you whimpered into his mouth, palms pressing against his abdomen instinctively. The illusion of calm shattered.

“Shhh…” he soothed, prying your hands away and interlacing your fingers. “I have you.”

For reasons you couldn’t explain, his words didn’t bring the comfort they usually would, and you felt a tear spill over your cheek as he pinned your hands above your head and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“And now I’ll always have you,” he panted, breath hot and moist on your skin, as he worked you open with slow thrusts. The initial sting quickly faded and, as if sensing this, his thrusts grew faster, harder, hungrier.

You didn’t know how long you’d lain there, eyes screwed shut, as he sucked bruises into your skin and ravaged your insides, but you felt a strange sense of relief when at last he shuddered and collapsed against you.

The ache between your legs made your stomach churn. If it were the will of Ilúvatar then why did it feel so wrong?

----------

You woke with a start. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the candlelight, and when they did, dread pooled in your stomach. It had been difficult to count the days – here in this sunless land, where the air smelled of ash and sounds were limited to those of labour and the snarling, spitting language uttered by those creatures.

You’d only seen the beasts once before, when he’d draped you in black and paraded you through camp with an arm curled possessively around your waist – a silent warning. The rest of your time had been spent inside the large grey tent that was erected in the middle of camp while works continued on a more permanent lodging…something tall and black that loomed in the distance.

How long had he kept you here? How long had you endured these invasive attacks on your mind? How long until you could no longer tell fact from falsehood while he moulded your memories into something more palatable?

“Pleasant dreams?”

Halbrand lay in bed beside you, his lean body as bare as your own, and you hated that you still thought him beautiful. The thin sheen of sweat on his skin glistened in the candlelight, a sign of his exertion, and a reminder that even in sleep you would not be free of him.

Not Halbrand, you told yourself, but a different beast altogether.

He turned onto his side, head propped on his palm – suffocatingly close – and planted a soft kiss on your lips. His free hand traced lazy circles into the skin of your navel, the gold of his wedding band glittering mockingly as you felt the first stirrings of desire. Your modesty had been long forgotten in this place; all that remained was shame.

“You are not wrong for finding pleasure in this,” he murmured, as if knowing the direction your thoughts had taken. “How could you not, when we fit so perfectly together?”

“Why?” you rasped, throat tight, and eyes glassy. “Why do you still do this?”

His jaw twitched almost imperceptibly. You asked him this every time, and every time he rebuffed you. Not this time it seemed.

“Long have I walked these shores and never have I seen so fair a sight as your body laid bare before me.” He gave your hip an appreciative squeeze. “I wanted you in ways I’d wanted no other; I still do, I always will,” he added as an afterthought, and it echoed in your ears.

You loved him, you wanted him; you still do, you always will. Another falsehood, then.

“You blame yourself – don’t,” he urged with a consoling kiss to your temple. “You can kick and claw and scream yourself hoarse, and I will continue to have you. Such is the strength of my will...such is my right as your husband.”

He took a strange kind of pleasure in reminding you of his place in your life – reminding you that you would never be free of him. He would never let you go.

“Why me?”

He grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned your head to face him. His eyes, the very same you’d lost yourself in countless times, were fervid and near unrecognisable as he gazed down at you.

“Because I am shadow,” he whispered. “And you are light, and when I’m inside you I feel a power unlike any other.”

“Oh, come now, none of that,” he chided lightly, swiping your tears away with his thumb. “Doesn’t it please you to know I’d never known such rapture before you? It would’ve been easy enough – those mortal whores throw themselves at anything with enough coin,” he scoffed.

“But you, an elleth…a beloved Firstborn, daughter of Gil-galad, Princess of the Noldor,” he rattled off with satisfaction and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. “Your kind have only ever scorned me, hunted me. I knew you’d do the same if you ever glimpsed my true visage.”

“So I thought to come to you as Annatar. A form befitting your beauty and station,” he huffed a breathy laugh. “But you surprised me. You were so eager for this mortal man, you let him leave his marks on your skin, his seed in your womb.” You shuddered as he pressed a hand to your abdomen. He trailed his palm lower and dipped his fingers between your folds, admiring the mess he’d left there.

“And you’d let me do it all over again, wouldn’t you?” he mused, eyes darkening.

“No…” you gasped, squirming as he slipped a finger inside you.

“You would, wouldn’t you? Because you know as well as I do that despite it all, you will always love me. You will always love your husband – say it.”

It was a confronting thought, a painful thought, that in the eyes of the Eldar you were wed to this beast, bound to him for eternity. Your souls were one. Worse still was that he wasn’t entirely wrong. You wanted to hate him, wished it with your whole being, but you didn’t know how to.

“Halbrand, please!”

“Say it,” he whispered against the shell of your ear, with just enough sway to bend your will – to tear the words from you whether you wished it or not.

“I–I will always love you.”

To your relief, he withdrew, but your relief was short-lived. His lips curled smugly as he crawled over your body and nudged your thighs apart.

“I’m half tempted to discard this form, just to see if you’d love my others as freely as you love little Halbrand. But I think,” he hiked your thighs over his hips. “He’s not quite done breaking you in yet. Let’s try again, shall we?”

And once more, he dug his fingers into your body and his claws into your mind.

----------

AN: my main account wasn’t letting me post, so I posted this request here instead. The rest (which are much more tame and, in a way, more in character) will be posted on my main when I figure out what’s going on! :)

#sauron x reader #halbrand x reader #dark!halbrand x reader #rings of power fanfiction #rings of power fic

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