Rationalising MPreg

Title: Rationalising MPreg
Author: sylc
Summary: Lindir, a former thrall, is forced against his will to become a witness in Sauron's trial on Taniquetil in the Fourth Age.
Characters/Pairings: Glorfindel/Lindir, Sauron/Lindir, OMC/Lindir, OMC/Lindir, Ingwë, Eönwë, Silmo, Elrond, Ecthelion, OMCs, OFCs
Rating: NC-17 (for series)
Warnings: Slash, MPreg, Angst, Slavery, Noncon, Tentacles, Body manipulation, Mind control, Oral, Violence, Minor involved
Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I make money from this.


The company arrived at the doorsteps of Ingwë's halls just after noon. There, they alighted from their carriages and their luggage was unladen by some of the elves who had been standing and waiting for them on the broad white stairs that led to the wide open doors of Ingwë's halls. Of the remaining elves who were more nobly dressed, a few of them stepped forward to greet them and welcome them to the halls.

"His Highness, King Ingwë, is unable to see you presently," they said. "He offers his apologies and will see you at supper. Until then, he wishes for you to wash and rest. Rooms and baths have been prepared for you. Please follow us."

They were led into the front hall and there, separated up. Glorfindel was faintly surprised that he and Lindir would not be sharing the same rooms, but supposed, as he watched the servants lead Lindir and Elrond away to the northwards wing, that although this was a plain demonstration of his family's feelings about their relationship, it would be best not to protest such an arrangement at the current time.

"Lord Glorfindel, Lady Linden, Lord Laiglas, your rooms are this way."

"Ah, yes," Glorfindel turned, Linden on his arm, and started to follow them down another passageway. Linden was asking questions, both of him and the servants, and he was distracted both by this and by the view out of the tall windows that lined one side of the corridor and looked out at the courtyard gardens, filled with linden trees. He had assumed Laiglas was behind them and was therefore surprised when they reached a corner and the servants on glancing at them, halted, frowning.

"Where is Lord Laiglas?"

Glorfindel and Linden both turned to look behind them for Laiglas's gaunt sullen form. "I have no seen him since we arrived," Glorfindel said with a frown. "Perhaps he went with Lindir's group by mistake?"

"No," Linden said. "I saw him outside, in conversation with the driver of our carriage." She turned her head and smiled at the servants, who were looking anxious. "Perhaps he is still there?"

The guides exchanged a look. "I will search for him," one of them said and he turned and walked back in the direction of the front hall.

"I do apologise," Glorfindel said then.

"Oh, no, please do not apologise," the remaining guides said. "Come. We will show you to your rooms now."

~*~

It had been some time since first Glingal, then Elrond had been led away down separate passageways that stemmed off of the wing and Lindir was starting to feel uncomfortable in the silence that had welled up between him and the two remaining guides. He fretted for something to say for a while and then, when he decided that his own ideas for words had failed him, turned his head and looked around the passageway. They had left behind the windows to the various courtyard gardens some time ago and now he could only distract himself with the bare walls.

But then he noticed a painting ahead of them... and more beyond that one. Quickly drawing up all that he had ever learnt about the history of the Vanyar elves, he paused beside this first one, intending to admire it and perhaps ask the servants about it. But when he set eyes on the painting and saw an endless forest of swaying beech trees staring back at him, the darkness beneath their canopies full of a palpable, gaping, menace, he swallowed and turned away. Perhaps not that one.

It almost looks like Mirkwood around Dol Guldur, he thought as he arrived at the next one. He halted there, but on looking up, his eyes widened in dismay and he turned away again. For those surely were the crumbled buildings of Eregion, lying freshly torn asunder beneath a pitiless blue sky and in the shadows of mountains garbed in the blood red colour of seregon blossoms.

At the next painting, his fears were again confirmed, but this time, he did not turn away. Halting before it, he stared at it, feeling inexplicably drawn to the black tower standing tall and proud in the midst of the eroded wastelands. The grey acrid dust that was swirling before the vision of the painter who stood between the north gates and the sleepless, yet strangely silent Barad-dur seemed so palpable that he could taste it in his mouth, feel it on his skin, digging into the cracks of his clothing.

"Lord Lindir, please come this way." Only it was not his guides who had spoken. And their voices were not soft and fair, but guttural and harsh. He looked at them, standing on the path of broken white stones... and on seeing their disfigured faces, old and new sores festering with infection, he looked away, feeling bile in his throat, tears in his eyes.

"Come," one of his guides croaked, and when Lindir raised his eyes and looked back at their hunched forms, he heard a cracking noise and he looked down at their feet again... at the stones. Only, they were not stones, but old bones, swept up from beneath the thin soil by the ceaseless wind, which was still picking dust out of the crevasses.

The other guide moved forward and took his arm in a hand that felt rent with scars and blisters, that felt as if it were falling apart with decay. Lindir dared not look down at it as he followed him onto the path, onto the bones, and onwards. He looked up at the tower as they neared, its tall carven shape wavery through his tears. Above them, the clouded sky was heavy, pregnant with the filth that spewed forth from the lands. He lowered his eyes.

"You are resigned to it, then?" A voice said suddenly from behind him.

Unlike the voices of his guides, this one was different... clearer... harder... colder. He spun around in their grip, turned to stare at the tall elf who stood behind them, his icy blue eyes seeming to pierce straight through him, the depths filled with an accusatory fire, his silver hair fluttering in the stagnant air; grey on grey -- he almost looked a part of it, a part of that cruel painting. Lindir felt his knees weakening beneath the gaze, felt it scanning his body, searing through his flesh, through his soul, crushing him... exorcising him with that light. He staggered and would have fallen to the ground were not his guides holding him up.

"You have nothing to say on this matter?"

What matter? Lindir wondered wildly, not daring to look up at the elf, not daring to face that gaze. He cringed when he heard the elf step closer, heard the bones crack and grind beneath his boots. Cold fingers slipped beneath his chin to raise it and he closed his eyes, waiting, wincing, his tears running hot and fast down his cheeks, soaking down his collar. He choked.

"You would let them take you back here?" the elf breathed, his breath cold and acrid on Lindir's face... just like the smoky breeze. Lindir shivered. "You would not resist them? You would not even look back at the northern gates to notice the absent guards?" He slid his hand up to cup Lindir's cheek, run his thumb through the flow of tears. "Why? What are these locked secrets of yours that elude even my eyes, that you hide even from yourself?" His hand suddenly dropped from Lindir's face, down to press over his heart and Lindir's eyes flew open, their depths panicked even as another hand whipped out and seized the intruder's hand, shoved him backwards over the wooden floor towards the windows that lined the corridor of the wing. The vision had fled.

"Get away from him!" Laiglas snarled, his voice shaking with anger and with another deeper, more strained emotion that made Lindir burst into fresh tears. His support had stepped away from him and he sunk limply to his knees on the floor, wrapping his arms around his shaking body, bending over himself.

"None of you are elves," Laiglas said furiously, standing over him. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Eönwë, servant of the Lord and Lady," the intruder replied. "And these are servants of Lord Irmo. We wished to speak to Lord Lindir."

"You do not need disciples of the Vala Irmo, Master of Dreams to merely speak to him." Laiglas voice was shaking. "Nor do you need to drive him into such a state. What did you want from him?"

"There is a seal on his memories, something that we are at needs to break. But I see now is not the time. Excuse us." Lindir raised his head to watch the elves bow to Laiglas, then turn to leave them. Before Eönwë turned away, however, the Maia shot him another piercing look and Lindir winced, knowing then that Eönwë had not finished with him. Then Eönwë turned and walked away, the two guides flanking him. He lowered his gaze back to the floor of Ingwë's halls.

After a pause, he heard Laiglas stir and watched his feet shift to turn towards him. "Lindir. Here."

Lindir looked up to see Laiglas holding out his hand to him and he reached up and took it, letting Laiglas pull him to his feet and into his embrace.

"You are unhurt?" Laiglas voice was soft in his ear, his arms tight around him.

"Aye." Lindir closed his eyes and breathed deep, comforted by the familiar smell. "Did you follow me?"

"We sensed something amiss -- Linden and I." Laiglas kissed the top of his head. "Come. You will not stay alone in this place -- I will take you to my rooms."

"Nay. Take me to Glorfindel's rooms."

"Eh? But..."

"Please," Lindir whispered.

Laiglas exhaled, his chest relaxing. "As you wish." His hold loosened and he reached down to take Lindir's hand. "But I advise you to not walk alone with or without strangers while you are in this place -- the air here is unsettled. Come. We will take the path through the courtyards -- the lindens are beautiful out there."

~*~

Glorfindel had no sooner been left alone in the parlour of his rooms then he heard the door open. He turned around and stiffened, intaking his breath in an audible hiss when he saw a small Vanya elf in white robes closing the door. Even from behind, in plain unofficial clothes, his hair tied back in a simple braid, and without his crown, Glorfindel recognised the aura around him. When the elf turned and looked at him, he swallowed and knelt, bowing his head.

"Your Highness."

"Lord Glorfindel," Ingwë responded in his soft voice as he walked towards him. He passed him and went over to the windows behind Glorfindel where he halted, gazing at the gardens outside. "Forgive me for failing to greet your company at the same time. I wished to speak to you in private before I meet the rest of your company."

"I-I see." Glorfindel was unsure of how to take this excuse. He sat up and cast him a sidelong look, scanned Ingwë's closed face, the eyes gazing listlessly out at the swaying lindens. Then he frowned -- this was not the animated Ingwë that he remembered. "Is something wrong, Sire?"

"I miss the autumn flowers," Ingwë said, turning around and sitting down on the cushioned seat immediately below the window. "The spring has been endless since the end of last summer, though it is anything but spring in the hearts of the citizens. And you may be at ease, Child." He waved his hand.

Glorfindel silently rose and took a seat opposite him.

"Glorfindel." Ingwë turned his head and looked back out of the window. "Let me make myself clear now. I did not summon you and your family here for the purpose of reconciliation. As far as the official council is concerned, there is no Glorfindel in this household. You do not exist in this family, have not done so since that night. Nothing has changed from when I made the council's opinion clear to you on your rebirth."

"I understand." Glorfindel knew that he was referring to the kinslaying, when he had first taken up the sword and participated in the slaughter at the docks of Alqualondë.

"But... neither did I send the summons with the direct intention of splitting your family or crushing your current happiness. Though you are not accepted by the council in your current state, this by no means implies that members of this family do not still love you and wish for your happiness."

Glorfindel swallowed, felt his shoulders relax even though he had not noticed them stiffen. "Thank you."

"I said 'direct' so do not thank me," Ingwë said quietly, turning his head to look back at the view, his face tense. "Let me also make it clear that if I had been able to avoid this meeting, avoid writing that summons, avoid dredging up the past between us and between you and Lindir and instead continue to let us go our separate ways, I would have done so." He looked down at some linden petals that were lying on the window sill, fluttering slightly in the breeze outside.

"Dredging up the past between Lindir... and I?"

Ingwë closed his eyes. "Last summer, I was ordered to summon those elves who have had dealings with Sauron, the Abhorred, who is currently on trial for his crimes. The Valar wish to question them."

"And... Lindir, Laiglas, Linden, and... Lindo are part of this group?"

Ingwë nodded slightly, his eyes sliding open, their depths opaque to scrutiny. "The elves who associated with and/or were victims of Sauron in the First Age of the Sun are already here -- already being questioned. I am currently summoning the elves of the Second Age."

"And... Elrond?"

"Has had extensive contact with the victims as he is a healer." Ingwë stiffened as if he had seen something outside the windows.

"I see. Is something the matter?" Glorfindel frowned when Ingwë rose, indicating that he intended to leave.

"Aye. It is likely that you will all be staying here for some time," Ingwë said distractedly.

"That is assuming that Lindir will agree to cooperate with the questioners," Glorfindel said as he also rose. Inwardly, he knew that Lindir would refuse. "He has related all of his knowledge many times to Elrond -- for the benefit of Imladris' defences, so I do not think that there is a reason to keep him here anyway."

"Perhaps." Ingwë replied softly, inclining his head as he headed to the door. "I must go. I will see you at supper."

"We will talk more on this later," Glorfindel said.

"Undoubtedly," Ingwë said, a sour tone in his voice. And then the door shut and Glorfindel was alone again. He sighed and raised a hand to run it through his hair. Should he tell Lindir? Lindir would undoubtedly find out at some point. But was sooner better than later? He did not wish to give Lindir a reason for concern.

His answer came when there was a sudden knock on the door and after calling for the other to enter, Glorfindel observed Laiglas open the door and usher a smiling Lindir into the room. Glorfindel's automatic smile faded slightly when he saw the pale colour in Lindir's cheeks. Perhaps he should wait until later. He looked at Laiglas, who met his gaze briefly before looking back to Lindir.

"Then... I will leave you both," he said quietly. Lindir spun around to look at him.

"Oh, you are not coming in?" When Laiglas just smiled slightly, Lindir faltered and nodded. "Ah, well thank you."

"No problem."

As soon as the door was shut, Glorfindel walked over to Lindir and bent slightly to look the other elf in the face. Lindir tilted his head, blinking confusedly when Glorfindel frowned. "Glorfindel?"

"Is something wrong?" Glorfindel said, reaching up and cupping the other's cheek in his palm. "You look very pale."

Lindir smiled. "I am a little tired."

Glorfindel studied him for a little longer, then smiled and leaned in to peck him gently on the lips. "I was about to visit one of the baths at the end of this passageway -- the servants should have drawn it by now," he said as he drew back. "Perhaps we can discuss this there?"

"Aye."

The bath that had been prepared for them was one of a number of baths that lay at the very end of Glorfindel's wing. The outermost ones were open air due to their enormous pane-less windows, which looked out over the sloping gardens on the southern perimeter of the King's gardens. The innermost ones were closed, though wide doors led from the outer baths to the inner ones, which were usually left open when the baths were in use.

When they arrived, the servant that was waiting for them showed them to one of the inner baths, which was filled and steaming with white opaque waters. It was deserted and the servant, before Glorfindel dismissed him, assured them that it would stay that way until they were finished. Then, after helping them with their showers, he left.

"You still do not wish to talk about it?" Glorfindel asked when they were in the waters. Lindir nodded as he waded over to a seat beside Glorfindel. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. Glorfindel scanned his expression, his swan-like neck, the water running in slow trails down Lindir's narrow torso, and was tempted to bend down and follow their path with his mouth -- to seduce him, but when he was about to lean over, Lindir sighed, his voice coloured with real exhaustion. So Glorfindel smiled and instead leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. Lindir's eyes slid open and the elf smiled sleepily at him.

"You should head back to your room," Glorfindel said softly. "You look about to fall asleep."

"A little longer," Lindir said and he leaned back comfortably, his eyes idly watching the steam that rose in lazy tendrils from the warm water.

~*~

Lindir smiled when he noticed that Glorfindel's eyes had unfocused.

And he tells me that I am about to fall asleep, he thought amusedly as he reached out to wake the elf. His hand halted and then he dropped his hand back into the bath. Considering Glorfindel was only half in the bath and supervised in case he did fall into the water, he would be fine. Lindir did not want to have to leave this bath quite yet. He raised his right hand and snorted softly when he saw the faint wrinkles that had appeared in his fingers.

Is it a bad sign when I do not care if I turn into a prune, he thought as he dropped his hand back into the water. And if I am not careful I will fall asleep myself. He looked back at Glorfindel and was about to reach out and wake him when he heard the splashing of water in the outermost bath beyond the doors. He stiffened, glanced at Glorfindel, who was still asleep, then pushed himself up and out of the bath.

"Who is it?" he called softly, wrapping a towel around his waist. He peered through the open doors and around the soft bath robes hanging on the wall and started when he saw Eönwë sitting in the transparent waters of the outside bath -- the Maia was leaning back, his silver hair lying loose and trailing in the waters, his eyes closed. He appeared to be asleep, a covered basket near his head.

Lindir hesitated, then, recalling Laiglas's warning, turned and was about to return to the innermost bath to wake Glorfindel up and urge him to leave with him for Glorfindel's rooms when he heard Eönwë speak.

"The servants of Irmo are no where in sight, Lindir," the Maia said softly. "Come here. I want to speak to you."

Lindir looked back and swallowed when the Maia's eyes slid open ever so slightly, enough to hide their expression and light. "I can hear you perfectly well from here," he replied.

"As can Glorfindel if he wakens. Do you want him to know what I know about you?"

Lindir hesitated again. "I-I do not have to stay here at all," he said. "I do not have to listen to you."

"Neither do I have to keep what I know about your past a secret from Glorfindel." Eönwë's eyes widened and their depths held a cold warning. "Nor do I have to keep the identities of the fathers of Laiglas, Lindo, and Linden hidden from both them and you -- your relationship with Glorfindel could be torn asunder in a moment. Now come here and sit down!" His face softened when the elf, his face very pale and tight, stalked over and climbed into the bath beside him. Lindir winced and turned his head away when the Maia reached down and ripped the towel from him, tossing the material to one side.

"Relax," Eönwë said calmly, leaning back.

"I need to keep an eye on Glorfindel," Lindir said. "He is asleep."

"I am already watching him," Eönwë said softly.

Lindir stiffened at the insinuation in those words -- that Eönwë had been watching them. And he may well have been the one who caused Glorfindel to fall asleep. He glanced uncomfortably at the Maia and quickly away when the other met his eyes and smirked. "What do you want to speak about? Speak plainly!"

"Plainly?" Eönwë smiled, his head dipping slightly as he pushed himself further up, the tresses that were dry over his shoulders falling forward slightly. "As you wish, Child." He suddenly reached out and wrapped his arm around Lindir, who stiffened. "Sauron is on trial before the Valar. Are you willing to let the court peruse your memories of your time with him?"

In the ensuing silence, Lindir stared absently at the rising bath steam, the still waters... Eönwë's arm was warm around him. He considered questioning the Maia further on the matter, but realised, finally, that such questions were irrelevant to helping him make up his mind. He turned his head towards the open doors that led back to the inner bath; wondered if he should have said something to Glorfindel of what had happened earlier or said something to let the elf know of his crippling terror earlier at the hands of Eönwë and the Vala Irmo's servants.

"Lindir?" Eönwë's voice pressed him from his thoughts.

There was no reason to hesitate. He had stuck to the same story even before he had been discovered by Mithrandir in Dol Guldur. He had kept his memories sealed away, hidden from even his own thoughts, and had been kept safe. Why then should he seek to change his current situation? "I decline."

He looked back at Eönwë when he sensed the Maia lean closer to him, shivered when he felt the other's breath against his cheek, warm and humid like the steam. As Eönwë did so, Lindir heard him reaching with his other arm for the basket. He would have looked around him to find out what he was doing, but he did not dare to look the Maia in the face, to face that piercing gaze.

"Unfortunately for you, Lindir, that was when I spoke plainly," Eönwë whispered. "The fuller discussion has less room for choice on your part." And he held forth what he had brought out of the basket.

Lindir fell back as if he had been punched, all colour draining from his face, eyes filling with a panicked hysteria as he looked on what Eönwë held dripping in his hand before him, in the air above his thighs, so low that the silky ends of the sluggish, white tentacles were almost touching the steaming water. The warmth of the steam... or was it perhaps Lindir's proximity... seemed to be waking it up. Eönwë's arm slipped around him further, his hand moving to cover his mouth, feeling the quickening in the elf's shallow breathing -- the elf's terror.

"I believe that Elrond operated on you to relieve you of your condition," he said softly in his ear, his breath tickling the elf's skin. "Perhaps that is part of the reason why you can ignore your past. The Valar would like to remind you, however, that the past is not something that can so easily be rejected." As he said so, he lowered his hand so that his knuckles touched the water, the ripples lapping gently at his pale skin and the base of the creature, drawing away the white secretions.

At the touch of the water, the creature seemed to stir even more as its tentacles lengthened, descending down into the water to lick curiously at the top of the elf's thighs, which attempted to jerk backwards, though with no place to flee to on the narrow seat. Lindir started to speak, a plea for cessation, perhaps even agreement to Eönwë's message, but it was muffled, rendered indisciperable beneath Eönwë hand.

"Draw your legs up."

Lindir shook his head violently, crying out when the tentacles, now agitated, started to lick over more intimate flesh, probing between the elf's thighs. When Lindir's body spasmed with fright, the elf's arms flying out wildly to scrabble at him, Eönwë, feeling tears on his fingers, pulled the elf firmly against his chest and released the creature onto the elf's lap where it whipped away between the elf's legs, to claim the elf's entrance and bury itself into the flesh beyond that place. In his arms, Lindir screamed, his body convulsing, pain rippling through his limbs, white light exploding behind his eyes.

The last thing that Lindir remembered before he blacked out was the colour of blood seeping into the water from below and the red droplets dripping from the slashes on Eönwë's chest.