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.


"I admit that I did not expect that request," Silmo said as they ascended the narrow cliff-side mountain path outside his room. After Lindir had ventured his favour of Silmo and the Maia had dressed them both in white robes, they had exited the room by way of a curtained door and passageway that led straight onto the path on which they now walked side by side.

Silmo continued speaking. "When we saw you earlier, you gave Eönwë and I the impression that you were one of those who had learned to live in fear of Sauron, and it was your terror of those times that had, as with many other thralls, caused you to forget those times and be able to live now in peace and happiness. So that you would wish to see him... is indeed strange to me. Or is this perhaps some strange way of elves to address their fears?"

Lindir snorted softly, his eyes fixed on the rocky trail before his feet. "I am not one who lives in fear of him," he said. "What happened earlier... earli..." He trailed off as he registered Silmo's words and he looked sidelong at Silmo, a frown on his face. "You saw me earlier?"

"You do not need disciples of the Vala Irmo, Master of Dreams to merely speak to him."

"Were you one of those... servants who guided us to our rooms?"

"Ah, yes." Silmo smiled. "I was one of them."

Lindir nodded and found himself looking upwards, half-expecting to see a few birds circling above him in the high blue sky or peering over the edge of the path some few hundred feet above them and which led in the opposite direction. He wondered when they would reach that one... and whether that was indeed their path or whether they would take another one.

He thought back to Silmo's words. "When I made that request," he said quietly. "I half expected you to refuse... or to make preparations to have me condemned by my own people."

"Is that what you fear?"

Lindir halted and turned to look back down the path towards where he could descry, in the far distance, the fields south of Taniquetil and even further, past a few smaller towns, the towers of Tirion rising up, sparkling, glittering gold under the sunlight. And beyond that, to the forests. He exhaled and wondered where his sons, Gloredhel and Lindo, were now in their travels... and whether they were gazing at Taniquetil just as he was gazing down at them.

"I would not have been able to re-enter elven society without Glorfindel's faith," he said. "And I would not have been able to gain Glorfindel's faith if he knew then what I will have to admit to the court." He scanned the gleaming spires of the distant buildings, then looked eastwards to the harbour city of Alqualondë, which stared over the Gulf -- the path back to Middle-Earth. Then he turned and looked at Silmo, a tight smile on his face. "I wonder if I will be able to return to Tirion after this... and if so, whether I will be able to return at the side of Glorfindel and my children."

Silmo held his gaze for a few moments, no expression on his face. Then he silently turned and continued walking up the slope, his dark tresses and robes fluttering in the slight breeze. His voice floated back to him. "It is not much further."

~*~

Glorfindel had decided, for the moment, to put Elrond's words to the back of his mind. If there was something that Lindir was purposely hiding from Elrond and from him, he trusted that Lindir had good reason for deciding to do so. His partner was intelligent, logical, and although occasionally flighty and stubborn, was well-intentioned and would do everything in his power to avoid hurting those dear to him.

As he left the room and re-entered the library halls on his way out to learn of what Laiglas had learnt in the elf's search of the city, he slowed as he noticed that some new elves had entered the vast rooms since he had first passed through them. Elves who had been acquaintances of his during the First Age of the Sun in Beleriand... and some known to him since he had been a child on these lands before the birth of the sun. He considered going over to speak with them, but on seeing that they were absorbed in talking with some of the librarians and guessing that they were in some way associated with the mysterious trial that was taking place on Taniquetil, he decided against it and turned away.

Apparently, however, his passage had not gone unnoticed by at least one of these elves. In the passageway outside the library, he suddenly heard someone call to him and he turned to look at the elf hurrying towards him from the doors. He frowned when he saw that it was none other than his friend, Ecthelion.

"Ecthelion, what are you doing here? You are not a former thrall, surely?"

"Eh? You are here about that too?" Ecthelion chuckled as he drew to a halt before him. "No, I am no thrall. And you? Or have you done something dreadful to that house I lent you and fled here to avoid my wrath? You would know my terrible wrath after all, what with having a bit of it in yourself, my fellow balrog-slayer."

Glorfindel snorted. "Ai, your house was in a perfect condition when last I saw it. Now tell me why you are in this place."

"Ah, I am here with my older brother," Ecthelion said, his face sobering. "As you know, he was a resident of Tol Sirion and was taken captive when it was invaded by Sauron's forces. He was summoned here to show his memories to the court."

Glorfindel frowned. He knew little of Ecthelion's older brother. "Are all of the witnesses to Sauron's deeds gathering in Ingwë's halls, then?" Although the libraries had seemed unusually populated and messy to him, he had not noticed a large number of guests in the halls. "And is every possible witness being summoned?"

"No, it is mostly key witnesses," Ecthelion said. "And only a very few are guests in these halls. Indeed, most of the guests here are actually relatives of witnesses. Most of the real witnesses are being housed either in the city or in secret houses on the slopes of Taniquetil -- out of reach." There was a trace of resignation in his voice and this was explained when he added, quietly, "My brother is one of these ones."

There was an awkward silence. Glorfindel did not feel it was prudent to inquire after Ecthelion's brother's involvement with or treatment under the hands of Sauron. A few elves passed by them in the passageway and they both moved to stand beside the windows.

Presently, Ecthelion broke the quiet and asked, "And you? Why are you here, then? Is it something to do with Lindir?"

Glorfindel had never really discussed Lindir's history with Ecthelion before, but considering the visibly unusual nature of his family, he had long ago come to recognise that he should expect people to know about it. And indeed in many senses, he was thankful for the curiosity and talk behind his back -- it generally made for more informed... or at least more amusing direct questions and it certainly saved time on rattling off the complicated explanation.

"Yes," he said shortly, making it clear that he did not particularly wish to discuss the matter. "He has been invited to help the trial as a witness, though I am unsure as to whether he will agree to do so."

"What? You came all this way without...? Oh, but I suppose that you wanted to visit relatives so he intends to make up his mind while he is here?" Ecthelion said, nodding his head. Glorfindel did not try to complicate the conversation by correcting him. "By the way, I saw your son Glingal in the city? Is the rest of your family here, then?"

"Only Laiglas and Linden besides Glingal," Glorfindel said. "What of your family?"

"Ah, no. This is supposed to be a rather secretive trial, after all, and it not exactly a holiday destination at the moment, is it? Unless you have relatives here, of course," Ecthelion added, "though considering the length of Sauron's hand when he was in Beleriand and Middle-earth... and perhaps even before he left Valinor, I doubt that this trial will be unheard of to most of the residents of Elvenhome. I really think it is more a show of respect to the elves who have never left Elvenhome and who do not wish to concern themselves with the sorrows of Arda and those who refused the summons. Those elves wish to ignore and/or forget these sorrows. Maybe it is also to suppress any peer-inspired attempts to seek revenge on Sauron also, considering how he is now effectively a prisoner in these lands."

Glorfindel nodded, his thoughts turning to Lindir. He wondered if Lindir had been hidden away in one of these so-called secret witness houses on the slopes. Hopefully, he would hear word from him soon. He looked out of the window at the courtyard, bright with blossoms of many colours. There was a fountain to one end, the water arching high and tall from the centre of it, sparkling beneath the sunlight. He wondered if the water came from the snowy peaks of Taniquetil -- presumed it did and then wondered if Lindir were in sight of one of the many tributary streams and underground waterways that wove over and through the heart of the mountain.

In the distance, he heard the library doors opening and closing. Ecthelion suddenly stirred beside him. "I must go," he said. "You are welcome to join us, if you wish."

Glorfindel looked back, back to see him half-turned towards some of the elves that he had seen earlier in the library, but none of those that he had recognised. They were walking towards them, smiling at Ecthelion. Glorfindel shook his head and smiled. He was tarrying and even if he knew that Elrond was right in saying that he would probably not find Lindir if that were the wish of the Valar, he still did not wish to give up hope.

"I am sorry. I have to be elsewhere," he said, and after bowing politely to both Ecthelion and the crowd, he turned and left the halls.

~*~

"This way." Ahead of him, Silmo had halted at the entrance of a cave and stood back, stretching out his hand towards the entrance, gesturing that Lindir was to walk before him.

Lindir peered into the entrance. Beyond it lay a narrow passageway with a smooth rocky floor, well lit by silver lamps whose flames were flickering slightly in the breeze. It looked inviting and pleasant and not at all like a prison. He looked back at Silmo, wondering if there was a reason why Silmo wished him to walk before him.

Silmo smiled, tilting his head amiably. "I assumed that, as you said that you do not fear him, you wish to lead your meeting with him," he said, apparently having read his thoughts. "Was I mistaken?"

"Ah... nay, you were correct -- that arrangement pleases me." Lindir said slowly, slightly surprised that he would be allowed to conduct the meeting... and also somewhat daunted at the thought that he might soon actually be in charge of Sauron, at least temporarily. Such a concept was new and strange to him. "But what will you do?"

"I intend to remain behind you and monitor the situation without interfering unless I see fit to do so or you request my assistance." Silmo gestured again at the door. "You have as long as you wish. There is only one set of doors beyond this passageway and that is the entrance to his quarters."

Lindir nodded, cast a last look back at the view of the lands beyond the sheer drop on the other side of the path -- he anticipated spending the next few hours or so away from the light and open air -- then turned and walked into the passageway. Behind him, he heard Silmo follow after him, the Maia's feet light on the floor.

The passageway seemed to extend for some few hundred feet, but rather than leading to its heart, it curved and swayed and at a few sections, the flat floor was replaced with steps, carven out of the living rock. In other sections, water seemed to flow from small fissures in the wall and ceiling, seeping onto the path in sheens and creating puddles that drained into other fissures. These did not impede their passage, but as they passed these puddles, Lindir learnt to step over them, for the water was icy and though he was an elf, it still hurt his feet.

"This water comes from the snows around the halls of the Lord Manwë and the Lady Varda at the peak of the mountain," Silmo said when Lindir stepped around another puddle. Lindir stopped and looked back at him. "It moves through the rock, running in rivers and seeping through cracks, and eventually floods out into the waterways on its lower slopes. Have you seen the summit, at least in the paintings of your people?"

"Ah, aye, I have seen it in the murals," Lindir said, smiling slightly, watching Silmo draw alongside him and noticing that the Maia did not seem to notice that he was standing in the freezing water, which cradled obligingly around his feet.

"I see. Well, should you agree to participate in the trials -- as is probable -- you will be required to venture to the summit to submit your evidence, whether before the court there or before a medium. And if you disagree, you may ask King Ingwë for permission to attend as a member of the audience and through that means, visit the grounds."

Lindir frowned. "Do all elves have to seek permission to view the court proceedings through Ingwë?"

Silmo nodded and looked pointedly ahead down the passageway, indicating that he wished for Lindir to continue walking. "Aye," he said when Lindir obliged him and moved ahead of him. "Or the other kings of the three kindreds -- Finwë of the Noldor or Olwë of the Teleri. Ingwë is the most likely representative to grant you access to the court, however, as you are associated with his grandson, Glorfindel."

Lindir smiled tightly, his eyes fixed on the path. Was Silmo aware of the conflict of interests between Glorfindel and Ingwë, and himself and Ingwë. Or at least, what he assumed as a conflict of interests between Ingwë and himself -- he had never spoken to the King on the matter... or on any matter. He had never even laid eyes on the King. He rounded another corner in the passageway, went up another series of steps, then blinked when he felt a slight draught in the passageway. As he went around the next corner, he saw the reason why -- a door constructed of iron bars and beyond that one, adjacent to the first and half visible in the side of the passageway, another door constructed of the same... and beyond that... the sunlight gleaming off of the smooth, dry stone floor and highlighting the swaying curves of the cream drapes framing the door on the inside...

The passageway had not led to the heart of the mountain, but rather, to another side of it. And as the first door slid silently open and he entered into the space between the doors and in front of the second door, he saw that beyond the barrier lay a series of empty rooms connected to one another by arches cut out of the living rock. More precisely, living quarters. And what quarters! They were clad in silks and velvets and satin luxuries that equalled, if not surpassed the contents of the room in which he had awoken with Silmo at his side. Lindir gaped.

As he entered, moving slowly through the rooms, he turned his head from side to side, his gaze travelling from the curtains that ran around the stone walls to the rumpled white sheets on the sun-drenched bed below the windows of the first room to the many narrow tables covered with the peculiar, yet familiar objects of crystal and metal that he associated with Sauron's private, small scale experiments.

So even though he is to be charged with the crimes of these experiments, he is permitted to continue with them? How strange, though I do not see any ghastly results. And then, as he thought longer on this and decided that Sauron must have the results of his hobbies near at hand, he looked back at the curtains that draped the walls. Who knew what cupboards and shelves those materials veiled from his eyes? Though undoubtedly, the unseen guards that kept watch over Sauron's every movement... hopefully... were keeping the Maia from exploring in too great a depth any of his crueler interests.

As he passed through the last room, he saw that instead of windows, there were wide doors. Beyond these lay a garden, the far side of which overlooked the edge of the mountain, the horizon a stark cloudless blue, the tips of the distant mountains to the east barely disturbing the canvas to the base. There were no trees, but glossy shrubs shaped the garden into curving lines, their dark red blossoms bulging huge and richly coloured, heavy heads nodding slightly in the breeze. Lindir, feeling his own tresses stirring under the breeze, raised a hand and pushed them back behind his shoulders.

He still could not see Sauron so he walked out onto the porch and down the shallow steps. And on the lower step, as he saw around the corner, he stiffened slightly, his eyes widening. He felt a tightening in his chest.

Across the garden, standing at the far side of where the edge of the garden met with the cliffside stood a tall slender man. Clad in black, his long black hair fluttering in the wind, his arms folded before him with sleeves drawn up past his gaunt elbows, he gazed out expressionlessly at the view of the lands that were the home of the Valar and Maia and Elvenhome. And for a moment, Lindir thought that he was looking on his own eldest son. Brow knitted, he opened his mouth to shout out, then as the moment passed and he saw that it was Sauron, he hesitated, then felt the tension leave his shoulders and he instead stepped out onto the lawn. It sunk beneath his feet, the grass clean and soft... comforting... caressing.

He approached silently until he was standing quite near to the Maia, only a few feet away and slightly to the side of him. And then he put his hands behind his back and waited, his eyes scanning the other's closed expression, the grey eyes seemingly absorbed in something that he could see in the far distance... or perhaps engrossed in something in his own thoughts... in the farthest reaches of his memories, older than Lindir could fathom and before the first dawn of Arda. Lindir had seen this expression before and he supposed that now, especially now, the Maia would feel drawn to searching his memories. For he was standing for his own trial now... which was ongoing... and though Lindir could not comprehend and knew that he could never comprehend what pressures the trial would place upon one who had dealt in so much death and suffering as Sauron, he knew that the content of the trial dealt in the past and so that surely would be now be uppermost in the Maia's mind.

Suddenly Sauron exhaled, his eyes cleared, and he turned slowly, casually, every inch of his body signalling that he had no idea that he was being watched or that indeed it was one of his former thralls and indeed Lindir standing beside him, and turned in the direction of the doors of his quarters. And then he saw Lindir standing between him and those doors. His eyes widened, his mouth opened slightly, his surprise stark across his gaunt face. His arms fell to his sides

Lindir felt his own expression harden slightly. Being looked on by such attentive eyes and not with the sheen of distraction, was not something to which he was used. "I have been told that you wish for me to participate in your trial," he said, recalling the question that had been forefront of his mind as he had left Silmo's rooms. "As a witness against you. Why?"

There was a silence.

And then, just as abruptly as Sauron's expression had changed to surprise, the Maia's expression sobered. "I did not expect you to come here," he said, his voice soft and low -- unthreatening, unimposing, but also... flat. As emotionless as he ever had been. "So why did you flee? If not out of a fear that would have also stayed your wish to come here?"

So he has not changed at all. Lindir looked back at the doors, to where he could see Silmo sitting on the porch steps, the Maia's arms about his knees, eyes watching the breeze blowing petals and leaves in circles on the grass before him. Then he looked back at Sauron... or rather, glanced at him and then turned his head to look over the edge, absently scan the jagged crags of the mountains eastward. "You are mistaken," he said. "It was indeed out of fear that I fled."

"But you are here now. Why?"

Lindir frowned. "It was not fear for myself," he said, raising his gaze to meet the other's eyes, which flickered slightly with an unreadable expression. "But for them -- Laiglas, Lindo, and then Linden. You are not a parent -- I think you would not understand." And probably would not understand even were you a parent, he thought, lacing his hands together behind his back. He glanced at the other's pale, gaunt arms and his thoughts fleetingly returned to Laiglas. He pursed his lips and looked away again.

"That is true. I do not understand. None of the other test subjects showed long-lasting attachment to their offspring -- that bond should not have affected you."

Lindir stared at him incredulously for a few moments. And then he snorted, and as his face filled with mirth, he raised a hand to his mouth to cover his chuckles.

Sauron said nothing, simply waited for him to calm. And as Lindir did so and noticed that the other was waiting patiently, his smile faded as it suddenly struck him that Sauron was relaxed as he had never seen him. There was no haste in his motions and indeed, there was now no need for haste. He stands at a junction in the path of his life, Lindir thought, looking up at his unsmiling face. This is no race, no competition... no battle for power. And he knows it. And then as his thoughts turned to the trial, he looked away again, over the edge and past the mountains to when sky met sea in a hard line. If only it were so easy for his victims to be able to relax... and to forget their grief.

The breeze suddenly kicked up and he saw stray linden petals floating up past the base of the cliff from an unknown source, buoyant on the wind... reminding him of Eönwë. Again, he wondered if it were only Silmo who were privy to this conversation. And if not, how much these other listeners could divine their thoughts. Indeed, is it even possible for them to read Sauron's thoughts if they forced him?

"The bond affects me," he said then, quietly. "You would not tell me your intentions for them so I assumed that they would meet the same fate as the other children. And I did not want that for them." As he sensed Sauron stir to speak, he quickly added, "And I would not have wished them to end up like me, either."

"You were unhappy? I did not realise that you were so," Sauron said. "But elves are skilled at hiding their feelings, and their feelings change quickly, and I admit that I was distracted at the time that you left."

"No! You are wrong!" Lindir exhaled hard, looking sharply back at him, feeling tears welling in his eyes when he saw Sauron's emotionless expression. Knowing that whatever he said, he would never see love in those eyes. "I was happy with you! I truly, truly, never wanted to leave. I never wanted them to know that I was alive -- to meet with Olórin. But I could not allow the children to live in such a place." He felt tears slipping down his face.

"You could have left them there and returned."

Lindir shook his head, wrapping his arms around him. "It is not so easy to return to the condemned when one is wrapped in the security and support of his foes," he said, seeing more linden blossoms floating up on the upwelling breeze through his tears. He could smell their sweet scents.

"So you were happier in..."

"Yes and no!" Lindir burst out, his voice cracking, tears slipping down his face. "I became pregnant. And suddenly a new life had fallen into my hands and all my crimes and all suspicions had been lifted from me. I could not leave Imladris then... and I also could not remain... at least not without rejecting my life with you. And so I chose them. For there is no way that elves can allows their fellows to accept and sympathise with the condemned! There was no way! No way!" And he wept, covering his face with his hands, feeling tears slipping through his fingers, feeling his shoulders shaking with the intensity of his grief. "But I never wanted to leave you. I wanted to return to you. Believe me! Please believe me!" And as he waited and wept, he wept harder, for he knew that however many tears he shed or however many smiles he turned in the Maia's direction, they meant nothing to Sauron. They never had and they never would mean anything more than a peculiarity of elves and of many Valar and Maiar, something to be tolerated or, in the case of his research and his staggering exploits as a dark lord, something to be studied and manipulated. A weakness.

So he was surprised when he felt a hand rest lightly on his head and pull him forward, pull him against the other's chest. He looked up, confused, astonished, and through his tears, saw Sauron looking down at him, watching him, no expression in his eyes except perhaps faint curiosity. And this made new tears spring out of Lindir's eyes and he smiled, closing his eyes, coiling his hands into the front of the other's clothes, inhaling deep of the other's warmth.

They stayed that for a short while and then, just as suddenly as he had pulled Lindir into the awkward embrace, Sauron's hand slipped from his tresses and the Maia stepped away. Lindir opened his eyes.

"These feelings of yours towards me," Sauron said then. "These are what I wish for you to convey to the court."

Back to the topic at hand so swiftly. Lindir frowned as he considered his words. Certainly, his own feelings towards Sauron -- of acceptance, pity, sympathy... and that one that he had fought the hardest to keep a secret -- love, were not something that he imagined were being conveyed to the court by Sauron's other victims. And Lindir was not sure that he did not think Sauron deserved the damning picture that such victims' evidence conveyed of Sauron. But... "But surely there are others who are not thralls who can attest as to your... ability to be..." He struggled for a word. "...virtuous?" he finally decided.

He was only slightly surprised when Sauron responded to the negative. "I did not foresee a need to keep relationships for the sake of relationships," Sauron said.

Lindir swallowed as he heard the unsaid words: that he too had been befriended for a purpose -- to use him to help gain the trust of Lord Celebrimbor, though he had not noticed the Maia's intent at the time. And later... all those millennia as his private servant in his kingdoms... and as another specimen of the firstborn to keep and observe at his whim. He looked back at Sauron. "Why do you wish to show the court that you are capable of virtue?" he asked. "Will it lighten your sentence at all?" Inwardly, he rather thought that his own evidence would do nothing. He did not even know how he could love the Maia himself. It was futile, ridiculous...

"It will affect it," Sauron said.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I will not only refuse to remove that new creatures from your body and refuse to return to you to your original form," Sauron said. "But I will also show the courts what I remember of your affection for me. Your situation will be worse at the end."

Lindir nodded slowly. So at the end he would still not be able to reject his time with Sauron, not be able to shun the knowledge that he loved him. And Glorfindel and his children would someday learn of his torn feelings... and he would have to confess to the truth. It was a matter of sooner or later. And that later would surely sap at him over the days, months, and years... perhaps centuries until Glorfindel would learn of the truth and reject him. And... then there was the creature.

He felt the wind stir up, causing his robe to flutter about him, and he turned his head to look back at the edge, at the lands that lay below and around the mountain, a drop that seemed somehow unreal to his eyes. Linden were no longer in the air, but on looking at the grass near the edge, he could see a few yellow petals clinging, shivering, in the blades.

"Before I give my answer, I would learn why it is you wish for me to stand as a witness for those against you? And also, how did you know that I had not already made my decision?"

"I would have thought that the answer to those questions was obvious to one of your intelligence," Sauron said, his brow knitting. "It makes no difference to me whether or not you stand for me or against me -- the evidence, your memories, will not change at all. However, your decision will make a difference to how you are perceived by elves. As for the second question..." He turned his head and looked at the porch on which Silmo still sat, listening to them. Lindir followed his gaze. "Silmo would not have brought you here to speak with me if you had made your decision, for the defendant is not permitted to speak with witnesses for the prosecution before the witness has presented their evidence."

That Sauron had even considered the welfare of them both in his calculations was... in a sense... touching. Lindir looked back at Sauron. The Maia had blocked both escapes and twisted him towards the one most beneficial to him. And though Lindir was sorely tempted to simply flee from the trial and return to Tirion, who would that benefit? How would it protect his children? How would it protect Glorfindel? Sauron had him in a bind, a bind that Lindir had brought on himself. "I will do as you wish," he said.