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 very hot.

Sheltering under a wilting linden tree and clutching three letters in his hand, King Ingwë stared up at the imposing figure of the elf who had, moments ago, appeared unannounced on the porch of his favourite courtyard. The elf had proceeded to approach him, crushing the already suffering grass beneath his boots as he had crossed the short distance between them.

King Ingwë squinted up at the elf for a few moments before deciding that he did not recognise him, although it did seem to him that the strangeness was not mutual. Indeed, the other's cold blue eyes gleamed down at him with almost unnatural familiarity. He shuddered, despite the sweltering heat.

"I am... sorry, but do I know you?" he said hesitantly. He glanced behind the elf in hope that one of his servants would suddenly appear to help him out.

A smile twitched at the corners of the taller elf's lips. His lips moved to reply and at that moment, a merciful breeze suddenly disturbed the drooping blossoms on the linden's branches above them. Round yellow petals drifted down between them, adding their sweet-scents to the already drowsy mood of the afternoon. Ingwë tried to follow the words by reading the stranger's lips, but then the other's silvery hair drifted across his face. Then the breeze passed. The tresses settled themselves back around the other's face.

"I am sorry," Ingwë said. "I did not catch that."

"I said that you know me quite well, Ingwë," the strange elf said in his soft laughing voice. His eyes narrowed and the Vanya King thought that he now saw a blue flame flickering gently in their depths. Ingwë's brow knitted and he swallowed nervously.

"Am I about to hear bad news or good news?" he ventured, knowing now with whom he was speaking.

The taller smiled broadly. "That depends on you, Child," he replied. "I do not know what reaction to expect of you. I am only the messenger."

"I think you could make a very good guess, Eönwë," Ingwë said crisply, shooting the Maia a sharp, irritated look. "But I already know the answer. I know that as a leader, I prefer to deliver good news personally and bad news through a servant. It reflects poorly on oneself if one is the deliverer of bad news."

Eönwë tilted his head. The fire in his eyes stirred and entered a crazed dance of mirth. "My Lord Manwë has a request to make of you," he said amusedly.

"Will it take long?" Ingwë grumbled, not liking the sound of this at all.

"Again, that depends on your personal response to the message," Eönwë said. "All..."

"My point being," Ingwë interrupted, "that I do not want to stand out here in this awful heat and learn even worse news than I have already received through these dreadful letters." He shook the three letters in Eönwë's face. "My relatives seem to think that I am the omphalos of petty complaints."

"Then why are you out here, Ingwë?" Eönwë spread his hands. "I only came to this place because of your presence."

"So I have only myself to blame? I am not the one who controls the weather!" Ingwë snapped, glowering up at the Maia. "Nay, this garden seemed to be the only place where I could stand and think in peace and quiet. But that peace and quiet is only achievable here because of the heat," he acknowledged grudgingly.

Eönwë looked up thoughtfully at the heartless blue sky that stared down at them like a fresh palette of pastel paints. "It reminds me..." he said thoughtfully, "of the birth of the sun without the moon to relieve her from her station." Then he laughed and shook his head amusedly. "Would you like me to coax down a breeze from Taniquetil to cool your mood, Little Vanya? Shall I invoke a taste of Winter to accompany your icy tongue?"

"I wonder what would cool your condescension," Ingwë muttered. He waved his arm in resignation. "Aye, bring down a breeze. Hopefully it will deafen me so that I do not have to hear this dreadful news that you are about to unburden on my already troubled mind."

Eönwë nodded and as he did so, Ingwë felt another breeze stir up and the temperature begin to cool. He exhaled in relief and gazed more peaceably up at the Maia. "Thank you," he said gratefully. "Now you may begin the delivery of your bad news."

"As you wish." Eönwë put his hands behind his back and straightened importantly, his smile fading as he sobered himself up for his delivery. "As you are aware," he began, "Sauron, the abhorred, was defeated by the free folk of Middle-Earth some years ago."

"I...aye." Ingwë nodded warily. "And?"

"Sauron, former servant and successor to Melkor, better known as Morgoth to your people." Eönwë watched Ingwë wince slightly at the mention of the second name and paused before continuing, a smile on his face. "Recently, it was determined that Sauron, as was done with Melkor before him, would be trialed for his crimes."

Ingwë bit back his words that Melkor's trial did very little to cure the troubles that he had caused and that he sincerely doubted that Sauron's trial would be very different. He gazed sourly up at the blue-clad Eönwë. "So he will be trialed? And what... does this imply for us?" he said. "For my household and my people?" he clarified.

Eönwë waved away the question and continued his message. "As you also know, since Sauron's defeat, many hundreds of elves have sailed from Middle-Earth to the shores of these lands. It is Lord Manwë's request that you, as the recognised high leader of the Elves of Valinor, summon the citizens who have had past dealings with Sauron to your halls before next Spring and, if they are willing to act as witnesses in the trial, they will be led to the court at Taniquetil."

Ingwë stared at him in incredulity. "You... you mean the trial is to be conducted on Taniquetil?" he spluttered. He turned his head and looked up at the white-capped mountain that towered over his halls. "That creature is to be brought here? HERE?"

"Sauron is already here... has been here for the last season," Eönwë said sharply, watching Ingwë's face turning a strange mottled colour. "He has and will cause your citizens no problems; he is securely guarded. All that we require is that you summon the elves that have had dealings with Sauron to your halls. We will do the rest."

"And if I refuse?" Ingwë bit out.

"If you refuse, we shall consider the elves of Valinor in opposition to the trial." Eönwë's eyes narrowed. "And bereft of the cooperation and resources of the elves, our access to witnesses will be greatly reduced, which will, in all probability, decrease the severity of Sauron's punishment." His eyes twinkled at Ingwë's horrified look. "Perhaps he will even be allowed bail from court."

"That is blackmail."

"All eyes are on you, Your Highness," Eönwë replied, bowing deeply. "I wish you well."

As Ingwë looked on, the strange elf's body seemed to crumble and fall away into the round linden petals that already circled them. Then the breeze picked up and the yellow blossoms scattered into the air, tossed hither and thither before the wind disappeared once more and the petals fell exhaustedly to the grass.

Ingwë watched the linden tree begin to wilt again. The temperature rose back to its original temperature. The sky glared down at him.

He sighed and turned to wander back into the more substantial shelter of his house.