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.





It was light when Lindir next woke and this time it was not because of him, but of Glorfindel. He could sense Glorfindel watching him.



This was nothing new. He often woke up to Glorfindel watching him, whether in Imladris or here in Aman. The elf-lord tended to wake considerably earlier than him, even when they did sleep together, perhaps a reflection of their different lifestyles -- Lindir was a minstrel who was used to being most active at night and Glorfindel was a lord who was most used to being up and about in the daylight hours. Indeed, it had been the case that in Imladris, on the occasions when he had awoken to Glorfindel watching him, it was usually to find, on turning towards his lover, Glorfindel kissing him good morning and wishing him farewell for the day.



But today he was unsure that he wanted to turn towards Glorfindel. After last night, Glorfindel would undoubtedly expect answers from him regarding where he had been over the past two days, what had happened, and how he had come to be returned to his cursed condition. He gazed across the bedroom to the open windows and the curtains billowing around them, swaying in the warm air. Beyond them, the canopies of the yellow blossomed lindens in the garden were gleaming brightly under the late morning sun. Lindir wondered if Glorfindel had left him at some point in his slumber to attend to breakfast or if he had stayed with him ever since last night.



“Should I ask Elrond to take a look at you?” Glorfindel suddenly asked in a soft voice, breaking the silence. Perhaps he had sensed Lindir’s hesitance.



“Nay.” The very suggestion of being “looked at” again made him feel slightly nauseous. When images of Sauron’s recent emotionless examination of him came to his mind’s eye, he closed his eyes tightly and swallowed.



“So,” Glorfindel said, “would you like to tell me what happened?”



“Nay.”



“I see.” Glorfindel fell quiet.



Lindir sighed and turned his head further towards his pillow. He felt warm and safe in the bed, between the sheets, curled into a fetal position, Glorfindel behind him; protecting him, albeit worried and confused. But that was not fair to Glorfindel, was it? He sighed again.



“I have agreed to appear as a witness at Sauron’s trial,” he said finally.



Glorfindel did not react with the surprise or with the questions that Lindir had anticipated and feared. Instead, he said softly, once again. “I see.”



So did the elf already know about the trial? Did he know that he, Lindir, had been asked to participate in it? Lindir turned onto his back and looked up questioningly at the elf lying on his side behind him, propped up with his elbow shoved in a pillow. Glorfindel gazed back, his brow knitted slightly in what seemed to be concern and puzzlement, but there was no sign of the strong bewilderment that Lindir had expected of him. “You already knew of the trial?”



“Ingwë told me about it when I saw him,” Glorfindel said. “I did not expect you to agree to help the court, considering your reluctance to speak to anyone about your experiences of thralldom.” He smiled slightly, tightly. “But I am glad for you, provided you do not feel as if you have been forced to come to such a decision.” Pointedly, his gaze slid to where the blanket covered Lindir’s middle and Lindir looked away.



There was another long silence and then Glorfindel spoke again. “Is your condition fully restored, then?”



“Aye.” Lindir glanced hesitantly at him, then away again.



“I see. May I learn why?”



When Lindir did not respond, Glorfindel leaned down and pressed their lips together in a gentle, affectionate kiss. When he leaned back, he said softly. “I will not ask you to tell me what is troubling you or why your condition is restored,” he said, “but please remember that I love you… we love you. And now I am going to take a bath. You are welcome to join me.” Then he patted Lindir’s flank and turned away to climb out the other side of the bed and head to the bedroom door, grabbing a bath robe on his way.



“Glorfindel,” Lindir said hurriedly, as his spouse was about to exit the door.



“Aye?” Glorfindel stopped attentively, bathrobe slung over his shoulder.



“Thank you.”



Glorfindel did not turn around, but Lindir saw him nod slightly before he left the room. Comforted, he smiled.



~*~



Glorfindel took a few steps down the corridor towards the baths and then, as his frustration threatened to overwhelm him and turn to tears, he stopped to turn towards one of the windows, sticking his elbow up against the frame, his fists balled, his breathing loud and harsh in his ears, his smile transformed to a grimace.



He wondered if Lindir had any clue of how frustrated he was feeling right now -- how angry... how angry with himself and everyone in this hateful city. How angry with Sauron for starting all of this and enslaving Lindir at the first.



Lindir himself... I could have struck him just now for showing me such a complacent face, he inwardly fumed. That Lindir did not think of him enough to tell him what had happened and trust in him was perhaps the blow that had hurt the most. His life in Aman revolved around his spouse -- everything he did was with Lindir, his better half, kept in the forefront of his considerations. He had always imagined that when something went dreadfully wrong for him, that he would instantly tell Lindir because his business was Lindir's business and vice versa.



He sniffed viciously, tears already seeping down his cheeks. A few thousand years ago and he would have never let such an issue fester and make him feel so isolated, even for a few minutes -- he would have never had the patience -- he would have demanded answers of Lindir outright! But that had never worked for either of them. It had driven Lindir further into his shroud of silence and given Lindir's then perpetual and self-employed bodyguard, Laiglas, even more reasons to despise him. At those times, before Laiglas had come to recognise their mutual love, it had been his frustration and anger towards Lindir's distrust that was the obstacle to overcome. But now he wondered if learning patience had solved anything. Relations had been so smooth and cheerful between him and Lindir for so many centuries now. Not always perfect; they had had their disagreements, but nothing so ominous as the current situation.



Perhaps some would say that it was high time that such strangeness came between us. Those who disapprove heartily of our relationship would certainly attempt to explain it away with the unnaturalness of such a couple. He sniffed again. But then again, have we ever faced such an obstacle as serious as this one? Indeed, he now fancied that he had never ever felt such a sense of mystery and helplessness about their relationship as he did now. It was like gazing at the surface of an enormous lake and wondering what ills lay beneath such a smooth and beautiful sight.



He shifted his arm to wipe his face dry with his sleeve. As he did so, he happened to look out of the window. He stiffened; his eyes narrowed. His grandfather was out there, standing in the shelter of a tall linden. But it was not Ingwë's presence that had caught his attention so much as the presence of the ones sitting on the stone seat beneath the linden and talking to Ingwë: his mother and his grandmother, the matriarch of the House of Ingwë.



”Do not come near us... you filthy thing.”



He wondered about what they were talking so quietly, with faces tense and suspicious. Perhaps about him and Lindir? Perhaps about their children? Perhaps about the trial of Sauron and the former thralls currently in the kingdom? Or something else?



Suddenly, as if she had sensed his gaze, his mother turned her head and looked at him. She noticeably stiffened and for a few moments, she stared at him in visible shock -- eyes wide in her pale face -- and then the expression faded and closed off to his scrutiny and she looked away, her mouth drawn into a tight line.



The King and the Queen, on noticing the landed princess's body language, now looked towards him. Unlike her, neither of them looked at all surprised, but they more openly echoed her disapproving expression. That he, Glorfindel, was not welcome here was plainly visible in their faces and Glorfindel felt it keenly. He exhaled in a low hiss. His tears were already dry. He had learnt no patience for them. New resentment waxing within him, he shot the three of them a disgusted look and turned to continue to make his way to the baths.



~*~



Meanwhile, Lindir had crawled from Glorfindel's bed, donned a dressing robe, and made his way to the dressing table to check and amend his appearance of any obvious signs of the previous night's events. As he carefully threaded out his tangles with a brush, he suddenly wondered how many servants had overheard them last night and as he did so, felt his fingers slip on the hair brush in his hand and the implement fall from his grasp.



"AI!" He scrambled for it and caught it, fumbling slightly with it before settling for hugging the brush to his chest for long enough to settle his spirits and get a grip on it. On looking back at his reflection, his attention shifted to the bed also pictured therein and it’s rumpled sheets.



Perhaps... perhaps it would not be a good thing to follow him to the baths and to bathe with him. It will give the House of Ingwë even more reason to feel uncomfortable in our presence and I am sure that we have not been the best of guests, he thought. He was pretty certain that Glorfindel, though perhaps being a little disappointed at his declination of the invitation to bathe with him, would understand him in this without requiring an explanation and agree with him. I should bathe separately; in a different room. He ran a hand absently through his hair, the smooth, thin tresses dry against his fingers. Then, after a last look at his reflection, he rose and left the room to make his way to the baths.



He was making his way through the passageway outside the doors to the baths, searching for a bath that he thought unlikely to be chosen by Glorfindel, when he heard footsteps behind him... a recognisable gait. Laiglas. He turned around, an automated smile on his face, and at the sight of the other, with black hair unfettered and hanging around his pale, gaunt face, froze in shock. Valar! Laiglas is Sauron’s child! Undeniably! was his immediate and horrified thought.



"Lindir?" Laiglas' smile faded; turned to a frown. And then, when Lindir did not respond, he spoke again, stepping forward this time.



"Lindir!"



Lindir blinked; turned wide eyes to meet his eldest's worried ones. At the sight of that sharp blackness, felt a coil of deep emotion, of horror, of awe, of regret, of desire that should not be there, that was never there when he had met with Sauron yesterday, clench within his stomach. "Laiglas," he exhaled shakily, trying to force a smile that would not come and then, unable to find the strength to fight it, looked away from that face -- that face that so reminded him of Sauron. How could he have given up the opportunity to demand the truth from the Maia? How could he have not acknowledged his strong emotions yesterday when he had been before the real face?



"You went pale," Laiglas continued, not moving any closer to him, as if he had sensed Lindir's confusion. "What is wrong?"



Lindir did not respond, instead turning his mind to questioning his reaction to what he had seen in Laiglas' face and of what his son was, as far as he knew, unaware. Were his strong emotions a result of the fact that there was so much more life and acknowledgement of him in Laiglas's eyes than in Sauron's? So much more affection for him? Or rather, that there was any affection at all? But then again, if Laiglas was Sauron's child then surely that meant that Sauron had some affection for him that extended beyond a master’s interest in a research specimen? At the thought, Lindir felt his chin tremble and he raised his hands to his face to hide his tears.



"Lindir," Laiglas hurriedly stepped up to him and wrapped an arm around him, kissing the top of his head. "Come, let us go somewhere private." And without waiting for a response, Laiglas turned him towards one of the doors at the end of the passageway and led him towards it, a confidence of his whereabouts in his step that signalled that he had, in Lindir's absence and time asleep, become well acquainted with this part of the palace.



The door led into a small room with a bath, far smaller than any of the baths that Lindir had seen so far. Indeed, it looked to be a bathroom for only two members at most and, to Lindir's relief, it was unoccupied; there was no sign of Glorfindel.



Laiglas led him to the corner in which was kept the shower and set him down on the stool there before releasing him and helping him to undress. When, however, his son looked about to assist him in the task of washing him, Lindir finally roused himself from his tears to take the shower nozzle from him and bid Laiglas go shower himself. "I assume you will be joining me?" he asked.



"Aye, but there is only one nozzle in this room," Laiglas replied, standing up and unfastening the ties at the front of his tunic. "I will wait." It was then that Lindir noticed that his son was dressed in tunic and breeches and on the whole, looked as if he had been up for some time and active around the house or in the city.



"You look as if you have been active this morning; did you go out?" Lindir asked, watching his son shrugging off the tunic and starting on the undershirt beneath; both items and the breeches were assumedly borrowed from the House of Ingwë, for Lindir did not recall them. Then again, Laiglas had not been living with them in Tirion recently so perhaps the elf had picked them up on his travels around Alqualondë.



In response to his question, Laiglas shook his head. "Nay, save for a few strolls in the gardens of these halls and on that matter, I am amazed that the lindens have not run out of petals to shower on us. But I heard that this place is in a perpetual Spring to please the visiting servants of Irmo, which I suppose would explain it." He cast aside his shirt, then turned away to walk over to the door and slide the bolt home.



"A-aye." Lindir wondered if Laiglas intended to complete his answer to his question. His disappointment was eased, however, when Laiglas turned around, saw his expression, and, with his usual knack for reading Lindir's thoughts best of the family members -- including Glorfindel -- smiled. "I also visited the library where I dabbled in some map reading and attempted to educate myself on the nature of Valar-led courts and trials. I also asked a great deal of questions of scholars of all ranks and did my very best to make them struggle and sweat to answer them." His smile widened slightly -- to a smirk. "I suspect that most of them were struggling to answer only because though they wished to answer my questions, rules... or perhaps requests made by their superiors have made answering such questions to one such as I forbidden."



Lindir did not know how to answer the second bit so he left it. "Studying maps?"



"For the means to access the courtroom as a hopeful audience member," Laiglas replied, approaching him to switch on the nozzle, snickering when Lindir started at the cold water that came rushing out. "Revolve the head to find your desired temperature," he said, and stepped back to take their clothes to a safer distance from the spray before removing the rest of his clothes.



"Have you asked Ingwë?" Lindir asked, not looking at Laiglas, but at the nozzle with which he was now fumbling to find a comfortable temperature. "He is the one to grant permission -- or any of the other Kings of the Elven Kindreds."



"I did so early this morning; he has yet to give me a response. I rather think, however, that he will refuse my request. Although I think he understands some of our plight and the reasons behind our disrespectful behaviour these past few days, he is obliged politically and socially, the latter judging from the poisonous expressions his wife gave me, to be as unhelpful to us as possible."



"The Queen?" Lindir looked up in the middle of rinsing his hair.



"Aye, she is quite the thorny matron."



"Oh?" Lindir returned his attention to washing himself. "I wonder why."



There was a pause and then Laiglas exhaled heavily. "I should have never mentioned her disagreeable nature to you."



"Eh? Why not?" Lindir looked up again to see Laiglas running a hand through his hair, a weary and amused expression on his face. He wondered if Glorfindel or if Glingal or Gloredhel even knew that Laiglas could wear such a comical expression. Even if he is Sauron's son, he is nothing like his father at all.



"Because you will undoubtedly worry about the mystery of the Queen's thorniness and pay the petty issue of her even more attention than you should pay to your own troubles."



"Ah." Lindir smiled weakly. I think that it is impossible for me to view any issues as more important than my own troubles currently.



Perhaps Laiglas had read his thoughts again, because his son's expression softened and when they exchanged places and Laiglas took the shower while Lindir headed towards the bath, Laiglas paused to embrace him again. As Lindir descended into the bath, he supposed that Laiglas' embrace was also telling him that he was not alone and that in addition to his eldest, he had others -- his other children -- who also loved him and would support him unconditionally, in spite of what unmasking the nature and depth of his relationship with Sauron would do to his relationship with Glorfindel.



Even if Glorfindel eventually rejected him... and Glingal and Gloredhel as well, he would still have three others behind him, two of them certain -- his sons, Laiglas and Lindo. Both of them had seen thralldom firsthand and though Lindir had no certain idea of how much either of them remembered he was almost certain that Laiglas, at least, remembered and knew the chief of his secrets. Only “almost”, though, for Lindir had rarely discussed such a subject with Laiglas and vice versa since the moment that they had stepped out of that place. But though they had never discussed it, Lindir knew, from Laiglas’ ability to understand him best at times when he was thinking of such depressed times without needing to ask him the whys, that his son remembered much, even if he spoke little of it.



Laiglas is a smart elf, to have come to terms with all of that without my help. he supposed. Children will grow up even without their parents. And he wondered once again, more anxiously this time as he watched Laiglas descend into the bath to sit down beside him, if Laiglas had ever wondered at the possibility of his father being Sauron.



~*~



Glorfindel was not enjoying his bath. Alone in the room, surrounded by steam, he had over the course of the past hour come to the realisation that Lindir had decided not to join him. This knowledge, coupled with his memories of the disdainful looks sent him by his relatives and his recent failure to rescue Lindir when his spouse had been kidnapped not two days ago, was making what was supposed to be a relaxing activity feel like he was boiling away in the waters.



And then the door had suddenly opened and Ingwë had entered. Glorfindel had had to wonder privately if his diminutive grandfather was mad; surely he knew that with one wrong move, he would have his head bitten right off by his furious grandson? Then again, small people were often the loudest and most determined. Even Lindir was loud and merry when he was not struggling against having the trapdoors over a cellar of a hideous past ripped open from beneath him.



"Glorfindel."



"Aye?" Glorfindel bit it out, making his displeasure at the sight of Ingwë very clear and setting the tone for what he would rather have as an openly tense conversation than a smooth one with an undercurrent of bitterness. "What do you want?"



"I supposed that Lindir might not have told you what had happened to him up on the mountain," Ingwë said. When Glorfindel stiffened, he stepped further into the room and locked the door behind him. "Ah, I thought as much."



"And you are here to enlighten me, is that it?"



"And to also make a request of you and Lindir," Ingwë said. He proceeded without Glorfindel's consent. "The request is that we would appreciate it if you and Lindir could keep your relationship as understated as is possible while you are guests in my halls."



"In other words, you resent what we did last night?" Glorfindel scowled, vaguely wondering whether it was Ingwë or the Queen or some other individual who was complaining the loudest about what they had done last night. But then, as he thought longer on it, he supposed that he did not much care who was to blame.



There was an awkward pause. Then Ingwë exhaled heavily. "Aye, child. That is our feeling on the matter."



Glorfindel just snorted, both resentful and slightly appreciative of Ingwë’s frankness. "And what about your enlightening news?" he asked sourly. "I, as you know, already know that Lindir's condition has been restored. But I have yet to learn why."



Ingwë drew one of the shower stools to the side of the bath, a few feet from Glorfindel, and sat down on it. "In short," he began, "it was to force Lindir to participate in the trial -- with the promise of restoring the bodies of his and his children to their rightful sex on his successful completion of the request."