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, Silmo/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 slumber that Eönwë had cast on him were void of dreams or even the faintest awareness of his whereabouts. And so, when Lindir finally awoke from the spell that had trapped his consciousness, disorientated and slightly nauseous from a strange sensation in his abdomen that he could not immediately identify, and found himself lying in a luxurious bed in a room constructed of ancient timbers and cast in the golden light of noon, he half thought that he was in Elrond's house in Imladris. Certainly, the open windows that breathed of the scent of rich flowers -- though he did not recognise the scents or the view -- and the cool white sheets and deep pillow... these all seemed to assure his hazy senses that this was the case. And the most definite proof was, of course, the fact that a warm body was lying close behind his naked body, the other person's warmth seeping through their night shirt in a familiar, comforting way.

And then he suddenly frowned. For at the window he could see the heads of red poppies... and the smell of their crushed seeds seemed to be imbued into the pillow, a scent that lulled him, sung his senses back towards the embrace of Eönwë's spell. But the spell's attempts to woo him seemed feeble... its effectiveness nullified, though whether by time or by the Maia's own wish he did not know...

Eönwë! The spell! Suddenly he recalled the events of the previous... day? How much time had passed since Eönwë had cast that one on him? Since the Maia had said that he was to be taken to a secret place? Was this place it? And had Glorfindel accompanied him here? Eyes wide, he rolled over to look at the one lying behind him clad in cypress green, inhaling sharply when he saw that it was not Glorfindel at all... and he doubted that it was even an elf in spite of the other's appearance. If he were an elf, he would be not quite an adult and no elfling would have such depth to his eyes, not even one reborn.

The elfling gazed back at him, the brow creased as if he were startled by Lindir's sudden movement. And then the dark brown eyes stirred with mirth and full lips, so red that Lindir half thought they might be painted with the blood of poppies twisted into a wide smile. As the face crinkled with joy, the elfling pushed himself up to look closely at him, his hair dark as the cypress wood tumbling long and wavy over his shoulders and between them.

"Hail, Lindir," he said and his voice, soft and shy yet playful reminded Lindir of the laughter of children and the embarrassment of first love. "You slept long -- I trust your body has adjusted to its condition?" And he stretched out a slim hand, gentle and curious as a precocious child of royal bearing, and felt Lindir's brow, his eyes softening as he evidently found the temperature pleasing to him.

"Who are you and what is the time?" Lindir glanced around the wide bedrooms, strewn about with many soft cushions, instruments, and furs, and then returned his eyes to the beautiful elfling's face.

The other withdrew his hand and started to push his own tresses back behind his shoulders. "A member of Lord Irmo's house and an assistant to him. You may have heard of me, though I do not tend to associate myself with elves." The Maia flashed him another charming smile and Lindir felt heat rise in his cheeks. "My name is Silmo. And one night has passed since you left Ingwë's halls."

Silmo? As a minstrel and, more importantly, Glorfindel's lover, Lindir was aware of the lore and songs concerning the Age of the Two Trees... and he had heard of the Maia. He nodded. "You are the one who was appointed as the waterer of the tree that was known as Telperion, which cast the silver light. And I believe you also wished to become the guide of the moon, though your request was declined, much to your disappointment."

The other laughed, looking greatly amused. "Ah, even one such as you who did not live during those times remembers my history better than I." And he leaned forward and kissed Lindir's cheek, before laughing again and flopping back onto the bed. "Now I see why elves such as you, with their longer and truer memories, would be superior witnesses at courts than ones who dwell in the forests of Irmo." Although his voice was still laughing while he spoke and the atmosphere remained relaxed, at his words Lindir felt himself tense. He stared down at the Maia lying below him, still smiling playfully with limbs relaxed -- resembling nothing more threatening than an inexperience and gullible puppy at play.

Lindir knew that the Maia was likely very much aware of the fact that he, Lindir, was aware that appearance were deceiving... so he doubted that Silmo was purposely trying to get his guard down. But the thought that Silmo was naturally this playful was also... somewhat disarming. He looked away and at the windows through which he could see the distant mountains of Pelori. They seemed to be very far up from where he was currently positioned... perhaps they were in a house on the side of Mount Taniquetil?

"What do you want from me?" he asked. "And..." He reached for his abdomen and sent his thoughts inward to the creature that lay within him, which had knitted his flesh into new shapes within him in such a short and relatively painless time. In a few moments, the creature had completely undone the work of Elrond. Lindir had endured many operations beneath the half-elf's hands to cut off and remove the taint of the first creature that had been planted within him. He winced at the reminder of the first creature, his mind unwilling to think back to that time. "And why did your people put this... thing in me?" He watched the breeze play over the poppy heads at the window, watched the flowers bow submissively to the caress.

There was a silence. And then Silmo's voice spoke and it was no longer laughing, but soft and cautious. "Eönwë has, I hope, told you that we wish for you to go before the court of Taniquetil as a key witness in the trial of Lord Sauron."

'Lord' Sauron? "Aye, but why force my decision? And in such a way?" Lindir glanced back at him, realised that he did not wish to look into Silmo's piercing eyes, and looked back at the windows. "Why am I so important to this trial? Surely there are others, more willing than I, who can attest as to Sauron's cruel deeds?" I know there are other elves on whom they can call... elves who surely would be much more willing to participate in the trial than I. And if the Valar are involved, surely they can enlist the assistance of those thralls who died in his care -- Houseless spirits who dwell in the House of Waiting? "Cannot you call on them?"

Silmo chuckled and Lindir heard the sheets shift as the Maia sat up, shivered when he felt cool fingers brush over the skin of his abdomen. "Of course there are others who are more willing than you," Silmo said, his hand dropping to push aside the sheets that covered Lindir's thighs. "And we intend to enlist their assistance also if they are willing to do so... but you are... apparently... a different sort of thrall." When Lindir felt his hand drop to run over the half-aroused flesh between his thighs, he looked quickly back at the Maia, frowning when Silmo took him in his palm and started to rub the flesh.

"Apparently? What do you mean?" Lindir winced when he felt the creature within him react to the embrace, repaired organs flexing, new and unstretched to the task. It was uncomfortable, but mingled in with the familiar, traditional, more normal pleasure was also that twinge of... that unnatural, but not unfamiliar sensation that this was necessary and something to be endured.

"Lie down," Silmo said. It was not an order, but Lindir doubted that it would be wise in terms of his own health for him to entertain refusal. He lay down and covered his face with his folded arms, tried to relax, felt the pleasure course through him, felt the wetness seeping down his arousal, slickening Silmo's grasp and dripping further... the liquid thin, copious, hateful... life-bringing... As he came, he heard Elrond's words echoing in his ears... that day when he asked if Elrond could ever cure him.

"If you are referring to whether I can cure you and turn you back from... what you are... and return to what you were, that is impossible. I do not have the skill of the one who transformed you, far from it, and unless the Ainur or some higher power intervene, you will never be a male, at least biologically." Elrond had said this with an obvious attempt at candid kindness and Lindir had accepted it without complaint -- he had always doubted that Elrond, renown as the half-elf was as a healer, could possibly compete with the skills and knowledge of a Maia. Especially a Maia who had helped to fashion the fathers of the Dwarves long ago in the halls of the Valar... and later, worked on the foul creatures that had become the bitterest foe of the elves -- the orcs. No, Elrond was no match for the brilliance of Sauron in this matter.

He stirred from his thoughts when he felt Silmo remove his hand from him and the Maia suddenly remarked, "It tastes sweeter than I had imagined..."

Lindir removed his arms from his face and looked up at the Maia, who sat there over him with a bemused expression on his face, wet fingers at his lips. Flushing, Lindir looked away, folded his arms limply over his stomach. "It is milk, as I expect you already know. Now will you tell me why I am so special to this case?"

There was a pause. Then Silmo pushed back his hair from his face with his wrist. "Your input in the trial was requested by one of the other members involved in this trial," he said. "It was a favour made in such a way that we could not refuse it nor refuse the mode of persuasion in parasitising you. If you agree to do as this member requests and participate in the trial, then we will return your body to its original state before its initial taint."

Confused, Lindir looked back at him, brow knitted. "And who is this member?"

Silmo smiled wanly. " 'Twas Lord Sauron."

~*~

Glorfindel was worried. And when Glorfindel was worried, he was restless and frustrated and unhappy and extremely troublesome to those near to him on whom he bestowed these behaviours. Currently, he was pacing up and down the length of a small room adjoining Ingwë's libraries, a room that was mostly deserted save for a few chairs, a few piles of research parchments -- some familiar to him, and a complacent half-elf who was sitting in one of the chairs and reading a freshly bound book, arms propped on the chair arms.

"We have searched everywhere," Glorfindel said. "We have turned these halls upside down in my search."

"I had noticed," Elrond said, not looking up from his book.

"And we have started to search the city." Glorfindel watched agitatedly when as he turned, the whip of his cloak sent some some individual parchments flying from the top of two of the piles and in the direction of the closed door. "And also the habitable slopes of the mountain. If Lindir is there, we will find him and take him back to Tirion. By the grace of the..." He broke off, evidently unable to have any faith in any Valar at the moment to deem them worthy of the expression. "We should never have come here." He ran a hand through his hair, the back part of which was tied back in a careless and rapidly loosening ponytail.

"Glorfindel." Elrond lowered his book to his lap and frowned at him. "If the Valar want to hide Lindir from you, it is highly likely that you will not find them."

"Yes, but why, Elrond?" Glorfindel halted before him and outspread his hands entreatingly. "Why do they want to use such a method? Why do they need to steal him away and hide him as if they are doing something dishonourable... as if he is a criminal to be restrained... or as if his children and I have no right to contact him."

"You are not wedded under the law of Elvenhome," Elrond reminded, leaning his head on his hand. "Arguably, they do not need to tell you about Lindir's current situation."

"Elrond!" Glorfindel glared at him. "Now is not the time to come up with excuses for them. They know that I consider myself wed to him and that Lindir considers himself wed to me."

"Have you asked Ingwë?"

"Yes! I was thrown out. Seems that he and the matriarch dislike my attitude... or me -- I am dithering between one of the two options." Glorfindel ran his hand through his hair again and turned to stalk over to the window where he halted to stand there looking out at yet another courtyard garden, hands on his hips. "I cannot believe the madness that has taken this household!" He shook his head, the ponytail unravelling even further. "Or taken the Valar! I... I cannot describe how I feel at the moment! And Elrond, you... you would not understand how I feel at the moment." He raised one hand and waved it dismissively as if he had expected Elrond to attempt to speak, though Elrond had not even opened his mouth. Elrond's brow creased slightly.

There was a pause. Then Elrond calmly picked up his book again and resumed reading, slowly turning the pages. Glorfindel glanced at him when he heard the first page rustle as it was turned and with a frustrated sigh, he dragged a spindly-legged chair in front of the window and sat down wrong-way-round on it. He tapped his fingers loudly on the arched back for a bit, staring mulishly out at the sun-swept lawn, his lips drawn into a thin line.

"What should I do?" he asked presently, turning his head to look at Elrond. "What would you do if you were in my position. Say Celebrían had been snatched from beneath your nose against her will?"

"It depends on the circumstances," Elrond said, not looking up from his book. "It is not as if Lindir has been taken by orcs. Perhaps you should be questioning your own faith in the Valar. Do you truly believe that they mean your family harm?"

Glorfindel did not respond so Elrond put down his book and looked at him, meeting his eye gravely. "You know, I mean no offence to your relationship with Lindir, but could it be possible that Lindir voluntarily went with the Valar to participate in the trial?"

"Of course not!"

"Truly?"

Glorfindel scowled. "I know that sometimes there are things that I do not understand about Lindir, especially his ability to be so stupidly selfless and optimistic in the face of those who would obviously do him harm, but I know for certain that he would never agree to let the Valar break the seal over his memories. He has been traumatised enough with what he has had to endure all those millennia captive in Sauron's webs."

"But if there was a possibility?"

"Then he must have been threatened and is not willing at all," Glorfindel said angrily. "And why do you even doubt my logic about Lindir? Is our marital bond somehow less than any other bond, though it may only be recognised in the laws of the heathens?"

"You are overreacting. I was..."

Glorfindel interrupted him, the elf-lord's hands tightening on the arch of the chair back. "I am not! Elrond, hear me out! You never accepted Lindir as a citizen of Imladris in his own right -- he only became a permanent resident after we realised that he was with another child -- my child, Glingal -- and I insisted that he immediately become my dependent. But even so, you never seem to trust him. What do you have against him? Is it his fault that he was befriended and fooled by Sauron in Eregion? I do not recall you ever treating any of the other former residents of Eregion with the same suspicion, though they were all to some degree beguiled by Sauron's spells. And for that matter, I do not recall you treating any of the other former thralls, though none of them were as altered in body as him, with the same distrust."

"Glorfindel..."

Glorfindel plunged on. "Is it his fault that he became a thrall and was so transformed that he was no longer a member of his own sex, indeed has seen more of motherhood than the average female elf, and endured this all alone? Do you not remember the ostracism of his family? How they dared not eat with us? How hard you allowed Lindir to work to win over the council to look on his plea for permanent asylum favourably when you knew what they did not about his condition? Is it his fault that he was in such a situation? And..."

"Glorfindel!" Elrond interrupted sharply, snapping the book shut, his face tight. "Why are you even asking these questions? Do you really think I dismissed his initial applications for asylum out of spite or out of some fearful and baseless notion that all former thralls are in league with Sauron? I did not! I do not believe it is Lindir's fault that he was so transformed. However! However... and hear me out, Glorfindel! I still consider him extremely different from other former thralls of my experience."

"And how is he different?"

"When he was found, by Mithrandir or Olórin as he is now called, neither Lindir, Laiglas, nor Lindo showed signs of abuse beyond the permanent changes made within their bodies. They were not ill fed, not confused as is often the case with those caught in Sauron's spells and, most strangely of all, not crippled with fear. Their ability to reason was remarkable and at the time, Olórin told me that he was certain that Laiglas would have had shrewdness and agility to escape Dol Guldur if he had so wished." Elrond gazed narrowly at Glorfindel's visibly fading anger as the elf-lord considered this information.

"And what was the reason? You never presented this information to the council."

"Of course not." Elrond snorted. "I never mentioned it because I hoped to have Lindir explain the reason to me on his own and not under duress. However, before I could persuade him to answer my questions, a certain distinguished member of the council happened to bluster in on me one morning with a cut face, claiming that an elfling by the name of Laiglas had struck him, cursed him, and had accused him of impregnating his mother." He smiled slightly at Glorfindel's sour look. "And then I decided that I would be benevolent and allow Lindir his asylum in the hope that he would answer my questions afterwards. Unfortunately, or fortunately, he is extremely stubborn, and I am still to learn his reason."

When Glorfindel said nothing for a while, Elrond added, in an unsurprised tone. "So he has not confided his reason in you, then?"

Glorfindel exhaled and stood. "He has not. But I have never asked him about his life in darkness. His mind is sealed... or was sealed when I first met him. And if I recall correctly, he sealed it before he came to Imladris."

"That is correct." Elrond also stood and walked over to the door to stoop and pick up the fallen papers. "And if Olórin spoke truly, Lindir was closing off his memories even when Olórin found him in Dol Guldur." He straightened and looked amusedly at Glorfindel's frowning face. "But I do not believe that Lindir ever had any evil intent in coming to Imladris... or that he has wilfully done evil in his past. And time has proven that he has only meant well for all of us. But..." He tilted his head and looked down at the parchments in his hands, a small rueful smile on his lips. "I suppose there are other reasons why he may feel that he has something to hide from us. And from you. After all, if he were a normal former thrall, surely the Valar would not be so forceful in demanding his contribution to the trial?" He turned and went to the door. "I will leave you with your thoughts. Oh, and by the way, I am sure that I do not need to tell you that Laiglas will not be forthcoming with information if you decide to question him on Lindir's 'reason'." Then he opened the door and left Glorfindel alone.

~*~

Over Silmo's shoulder, Lindir saw the breeze stirring up around the poppies at the window. A few of the petals detached from the blood-red blossom heads and scattered into the room to float to the floor. He exhaled and felt his shoulders drop slightly as the tension fled from them. His lips felt dry.

So. 'Twas Sauron who had wished for him to speak at the trial. That in itself seemed to explain... seemed to so easily almost justify the baffling nature of everything that had happened from the moment of hearing the summons to Ingwë's halls to the implantation of the parasite planted within him. If it was inexplicable, morally confusing, painful, emotional, then what else could be held accountable... responsible save a dark lord? He ran his hands over the sheets around him, lightly clawing at them, feeling the material sliding smoothly out from beneath his fingertips.

How long has it been since I last saw him? Lindir could not remember though he could vaguely pinpoint the years around it. He wondered if other former thralls, ones with a perhaps greater right to call themselves traumatised and victims of Sauron's machinations, could recall their last encounter with Sauron with more accuracy. Was it a sign of his own guilt... or lack of victimisation -- if that is what it could be called -- that he could not recall the date?

"You are calmer than I had expected." Silmo's gentle voice disturbed his thoughts and Lindir looked back at him, met the Maia's inquiring, anxious expression. He sensed that Silmo's eyes were searching for a smile from him and so he offered a small one, and was amused and comforted when Silmo's beautiful face broke into an answering smile of relief and hope.

"I am surprised myself," Lindir said, feeling his quickly conjured up smile fade. He looked down and placed a hand on his abdomen, his brow knitting. "But I now think I knew, on some level, that his hands were the ones that fashioned this creature... that he was somehow a part of this mystery. Ai, but it troubles me in the same way as the first one." He shook his head slightly, rubbing his hand in loose circles.

"So what is your answer? Will you allow us to read your memories, then?"

Lindir looked back at him. "Firstly tell me where this reading will take place. Who will be privy to this information?"

"It depends on your own wishes," Silmo said, his smile fading. "You may be examined privately, by me I expect, and then through me your memories will be cast up onto the walls of the court halls when they are so desired. Alternatively, you may appear before the court in person and recall events at the request of the questioners. As to the second question, only those invited to the court and their guests are permitted to appear in the audience. But there is no guarantee that what is heard within those walls will not pass beyond them and become public knowledge."

Lindir considered this in silence for a few moments. Before he could respond, Silmo suddenly spoke again. "Concerning the two possible methods of presenting your memories, I do not recommend that you appear before the court in person, for the process of exposing one's memories to strangers is usually distressing enough without the added drain of being questioned over them. Also, since the opening of the trial and the questioning of witnesses of the First Age, the defence has developed a reputation of unsettling the witnesses enough to force them to leave the courtroom. It has not affected the case against Sauron significantly so far, but it is something that I would like you to keep in mind for your own well-being."

"Defence?" Lindir frowned. "But I thought you said that Sauron was the one who requested me as his witness."

"Ah, yes." Silmo nodded, looking confused himself as he leaned back, clasping his hands together on the sheets before him. "But you see, 'tis Lord Sauron's wish that you turn up as a witness against him."

This makes no sense at all! Surely my evidence would be among the least damning of him? What is he plotting? Lindir stared at Silmo for a few moments and then smiled bewilderedly and shook his head again. "I do not understand."

"Neither do I, but he refuses to tell me his reasons." Silmo blinked when Lindir, on hearing this frank admittance of shared ignorance, suddenly laughed quietly. "Lindir?"

Lindir looked at him, still chuckling, his eyes full of genuine mirth. "I apologise," he said amusedly, "I have a favour to ask of you, Your Lordship."

"Please call me Silmo. And what is this favour?"

Still smiling, Lindir said, "May I speak with Sauron?"