I Think Were Even Now

i think we’re even now 🥹🤭

i bleed the same

annatar/sauron x fem!elf!reader

summary: after halbrand returns to eregion, he takes on a new form. and you feel drawn to it as much as to the darkness inside of him.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, angst, unprotected sex, biting, fluff means sauron is in love (can that even be possible??)

word count: 2k

author’s note: this is part 2 of ‘if you bled’. please read it first, before you continue. maybe this one is little bit of a mess but god, love me a soft sauron. 😫 the song inspired for this part is better by syml. i hope you enjoy it and don’t forget how i much i appreciate your likes and reblogs — it means so much to me. xx

part 1

After Halbrand disappeared, he did not return but you often wished, he would.

Sometimes you even believed, that you could see him come around a corner out of a sudden, until you realized it is just one of the other elves.

A few days later, Galadriel and Elrond left to return back to Lindon with the rings. They tried to convince you to come with them, but you knew you didn't belong there anymore. So you stayed in Eregion while you waited for Halbrand to return, just like he promised you.

The weeks went by and with each passing day you lost more hope of seeing him again. And with your hope, his promises also began to vanish.

Until, one day, Mirdania rushes into the great forge and joins Celebrimbor's side. Even though their voices are lowered, you try to understand some of what she is saying to the Lord of Eregion. Then, when she mentions a messenger from the Southlands, the hammer you hold falls from your hands in shock as you take a sharp breath.

This can’t be possible.

All eyes are suddenly on you, but you don’t care, just like you don’t care about the hammer that is still lying on the ground. You grab the skirt of your dress and run, ignoring Celebrimbor's call. Your path leads you out of the forge, into the yard and to the gate.

And there you see him standing. The man you had been waiting for all this time. The man who had finally kept his promise and returned to you.

He has his back to you and you let your gaze slide over it. There is a wound on his right shoulder and your heart instantly clenches in your chest. Wherever he had been, he had been in pain, you can feel it.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Halbrand turns around and your eyes meet. For a moment, time stands still and you see the hint of a smile on his face.

You return it as best you can, but you sense that something is wrong. Not a second later, Mirdania walks past you towards Halbrand. “My lord, I must ask you to leave,” she says and glances over her shoulder at you shortly.

Halbrand turns his gaze to the elf and puts on a charming smile. “Why do you want me to leave? I've only just arrived”, he answers and smiles at Mirdania, making the butterflies in your stomach swirl around and you lower your gaze.

“I'm not asking you to leave, the Lord of Eregion is. He has no interest in negotiating with you,” the elf replies before turning away and walking towards you. Her gaze is on you, then she grabs your wrist and pulls you with her.

“Wait, I-” you begin, but Mirdania interrupts you. “Lord Celebrimbor says we can't trust him. None of us should get involved with him. Not even you.” Although her voice is tense, you can't help but let out a laugh. “You can't be serious. I know who I can get involved with and with whom not,” you try to defend yourself, but she just pulls you further away from him.

“Lady Galadriel says otherwise,” she replies and you freeze. “What does Galadriel have to do with this?” you ask with a slightly raised voice. For a moment Mirdania just looks at you, then she leads you back into the forge and out of Halbrand's reach.

You have no way of returning to Halbrand for the rest of the day. But you know that he is waiting. Even if not just for you. When it starts to rain in the evening and Halbrand is still standing in the yard, waiting, Lord Celebrimbor finally decides to go to him himself.

Some time pass and as he returns with Halbrand close behind him, the forge is completely empty — except you. Both of them are soaked and you are about to ask if you can bring them anything, but Celebrimbor silences you with a wave of his hand. “You have done enough. You can go,” he says, leaving you no chance to protest.

Your gaze falls on Halbrand, who is looking at you with a gentle expression in his eyes. He gives you a slight, barely noticeable nod and you turn away to go to your chamber.

You lie on your bed for a while and stare at the ceiling, your thoughts swirling wildly. There is so much you wanted to know, so many questions and only one person who knows the answers. And you hope that you would get it soon.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because a gentle touch on your face wakes you. It takes a moment until you can think clearly again and you recognize a person sitting on the edge of your bed. You immediately sit up and slide away from the figure.

“Don't be afraid,” his words sound through the darkness and you start to relax. “Halbrand?” you whisper and he nods slowly. “But now, call me Annatar“, his voice is low as he answers making you swallow hard.

Annatar raises his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is so familiar that you can't resist any longer and lean into it while you close your eyes slightly.

Suddenly the fire in the fireplace lights up and fills the room with a warm light.

After a few seconds, your gaze finds his and you can't help but examine his new form. He examines you just as intensely, as if he's waiting for a reaction.

But everything you could do is raising your hand and taking one of the blonde strands of his new hair between your fingers. You must have been silent for a little too long, because he puts his fingers around your wrist and looks you intently in the eyes. “You don't seem particularly impressed,” he says with a raised eyebrow, but you shake your head.

“No, it's not that. It's just... it’s new,” you admit, making him smile. “And I thought you were asking me to take on Halbrand's face again,” he rests his other hand on your thigh and you lean a little closer to him.

“Well, even though I think a beard suits you so much better, this face is just as fine,” you say with a smile and look him in his now deep blue eyes. But then you remember that he had been in hurt and in pain not so long ago and let your gaze fall down.

Annatar, who seems to have sensed the sudden change in your expression, frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me, what happened to you? Why did it take you so long to come back?” you ask, but Annatar just smiles. “Is this your way of telling me that you’ve missed me?” he asks with a hint of amusement and you snort quietly, but can’t help but smile.

Your fingertips glide gently over his cheek, and instead of the stubble you can feel his soft skin there. Even though he looks completely different now, you can feel that it is him.

“You are Sauron,” you suddenly say out loud for the first time before looking him in the eyes again. He returns your gaze, then nods. “But that doesn't seem to bother you,” he says carefully.

“No... even though it should. I should hate you for everything you've done. But I can't. I could never,” you whisper and feel him caressing your thigh with his thumb.

“She tried to convince you not to trust me,” Annatar says suddenly, thoughtful, and now you frown. “Galadriel...,” he adds, sensing your confusion.

You nod and let out a strained laugh. “Of course she did… what do you think? You deceived her. Like all of us. But she still doesn't have the right to decide who I give my heart to,” you say quietly and gasp softly as Annatar's fingers press tightly into the skin of your thigh.

“You should be careful who you give it to. Hearts are incredibly precious,” he whispers, leaning closer to you. You feel his breath brush over your lips and open them slightly, then his mouth is on yours.

Hot and demanding, as if he had been waiting for centuries to kiss you.

You can't help but moan, a mixture of desperation and longing as you bury your hands in his hair. Oh, how you already love these long strands.

His hands find their way to your hips, where he grabs you and pulls you closer to his body. A growl escapes from his lips, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin.

Breathing heavily, he pulls away from you again and presses his forehead against yours. “If we don't stop right now, I don't know how much longer I can hold back,” he says in a rough voice and you tremble. Your hands are still in his hair and you press yourself a little closer against him. “What if I don't want you to hold back?” you breathe against his lips.

And with that you unleash a storm.

Suddenly he is on top of you and presses your back into the mattress. His hands are all over your body, touching, pulling and caressing while you gasp for air.

Seconds later he starts to undress you, his hands touching every little part of your body before you get him out of his garments. They land on the floor just like your dress and he pulls you closer again.

All you can feel is Annatar's skin against yours, his fingertips wandering over your shoulders and his hard cock between your bodies as you straddle his lap.

He touches you as if you could crumble to dust before his eyes at any moment, and no matter how deeply you would like to feel him inside you right now, you can’t help but enjoy the feeling of his closeness and the desire that takes your breath away.

Finally, his hands move under your thighs and you look into his eyes as you position yourself above him. Your gazes are locked as you sink down onto him, but you had to close your eyes. It takes your breath away and you need a moment to get used to his size. Then you start to move and you moan with pleasure. Nothing has ever felt so good.

You press your forehead against his, as you pant heavily with one of your hands buried in his hair, the other in the bedsheets clawing onto them.

“Let me make you my queen,” he blurts out as you continue to move. You both have to groan before you realize what he just said. “What?” you gasp and pause. He takes advantage of this moment, puts his arm around your waist and turns you so that you are lying under him again.

He's still deep inside you and he moves his hips briefly to make it clear to you. “Become my queen,” he repeats and lowers his head to your breasts. He gently sucks on your nipple, moving slowly as if he's savoring every second of it.

“But I-” you stop and pant as he bites the skin beneath your breasts and look down at him. “Become my wife and I will lay all of Middle Earth at your feet. I will destroy anyone who does not submit to you — to us,” he continues and if you weren't so high on your feelings right now, you would have thought that this must be a joke.

You're just about to say something again when he suddenly speeds up his pace again. He thrusts deep into you, making your eyes roll back in your head. Your breathing gets heavier and your moans get louder until you hear his voice in your ear.

“Let go for me, my queen” Annatar ducks his fingers in your skin as your climax roll over you. You cry into his mouth, burying your fingers in his hair as if he was the only thing you could hold on to.

His breath is still on your ear as he moans softly, finding his own release and you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. Panting heavily, he places a soft kiss on your neck and breathes in your scent. Then he falls onto the sheets next to you and pulls you in his arms.

Lost in your thoughts, you draw small circles on his bare chest until he takes your hand in his, catching your attention. “I meant it. Become my wife and we will heal Middle Earth together,” he whispers and raises his other hand closed in front of your face before opening it.

In his palm lies one of the three elven rings.

For a moment you are too stunned to speak, until you find your voice again.

“Where… did you get it? Galadriel took them all with her,” you whisper and take the ring carefully in between your thumb and index finger.

“Does it matter?” he asks, stroking the back of your free hand with his thumb. “Is that a yes?” he asks, looking down at you expectantly.

You don't know what to say. But you know what your heart is telling you. And even though it was a betrayal of those you love and your entire kind, you know it's the right thing to do.

Because the darkness had called for you for your whole life.

“Yes...” you breathe and raise your gaze to meet his eyes again. There's a smile on Sauron's face as he takes the ring from your hand and gently slides it onto your finger.

“Then take this ring as my promise. I will give you the world and bring every being to its knees so that they will worship my queen.” With that, he leans forward and kisses the silver ring on your finger. And while you watch him, you know that one thing is certain.

This is all you've ever wanted.

And he is all you ever desired.

2024 | notreallythatlost

oh my good lord—

Theatrics (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Celebrimbor tries to expose you and your husband to the people of Eregion, but you play the role of the innocent maiden to perfection

Warnings: evil!reader, murder, manipulation, mentions of wounds, smut, light choking, blood licking, fingering, p in v, slight roleplay, slight voyeurism kink

Note: part of the evil!reader collection of fics. okay I finally said fuck it and wrote smut *throws it into the wild and runs away*

Mature content below the cut—minors DNI!!!

Chaos roars around you as you step out into what were once the beautiful streets of Eregion. Walls are crumbling, arrows are flying, Elves are scurrying about every which way.

You suppress a smile. All is going according to plan. But what pleases you even more is that at long, long last, the moment which you had been most eager to savour has finally come to pass.

Celebrimbor has learned the truth.

No more tiptoeing around him, playing the unassuming Elven smith. No more taking orders from him, no more assisting him, no more pretending like you are anywhere close to kind and innocent and sweet.

Well, with him, at least. But he is the one you had most strived to fool, ever since you came to Eregion all those years ago, not knowing how long you would have to endure the life you would craft for yourself there until your husband regained his form. When the moment came that you were finally able to stand at your husband’s side in the crumbled forge as Celebrimbor realized who ‘Annatar’ was and what you were to him, when you took in the horror in his eyes as he pointed accusingly to your beloved’s pitch black blood only to watch you lick it hungrily off his hand instead of running in terror...

It nearly made up for all the times the words ‘my lord’ had tasted foul on your lips, spoken to the smith in false submission. You serve no one but your husband—and even that can hardly be called service, when he serves you in return with equal devotion.

You wonder how much of a fool Celebrimbor will have already made of himself even before you find him, wherever he has run off to in the wake of his terrible realization. You and your husband had ensured that by the time Celebrimbor manages to speak against you, all ears would be shut to his words. The Elves once loyal to him now believe him fatigued to incoherency at best, dangerous in his madness at worst. When you had last emerged from the forge, it had been crying and holding a bloody hand, claiming that Celebrimbor had brought Fëanor’s hammer down upon it in a moment of cruel impatience with your work. An illusion, of course, conjured by the part of your husband’s power which lives within you. You have bandaged that hand now, mindful to keep up the charade.

You make sure to fill your eyes with as much dread as any other Elf’s as you run through the chaos, searching for Celebrimbor. Your husband is out here as well, but not with you—it would serve you better to arrive separately for this little special occasion.

By the time you find Celebrimbor on the rampart, he is already quite the pitiful sight—he and Mirdania stand near a section of the parapet which had been wrecked by an Orc boulder, leaving it horribly easy to fall over the edge through the resulting gap. He is screaming at Mirdania that she has to believe him, over and over. She eyes him warily, drawing ever so slightly away, no doubt unsettled to find herself in the proximity of such a disturbed individual and a dangerous fall, all at once. Of all the Elves he could have run to, it had to be the one most taken with your husband’s charms. Oh, this is too perfect.

“My Lord, there you are!” you exclaim. His eyes widen in horror at the sight of you. Yours are awash with concern as you reach for his arm. “It really is not safe for you to be out here—”

Celebrimbor recoils, so violently he nearly knocks Mirdania off her feet as he stumbles into her. She yelps, rushing to your side instead.

“Don’t you dare come near me, you witch!” Celebrimbor spits out, jaw trembling as he yells at the guards, “Seize her!”

You don’t need to see your own face to know you have made it into the perfect picture of confusion and hurt. You exchange a glance with the guard closest to you, Captain Malendol. You’ve shared some laughs over the years, the occasional friendly conversation, even a dance or two at celebrations and the ever-so-subtle flirtation under the supposed influence of a wine glass or two. He likes you quite well, if you do say so yourself. Which makes the bafflement on his face, unlike yours, genuine.

Celebrimbor swallows painfully as realization dawns on him—his own guards no longer obey him. “She is no friend of yours,” he insists, “she never has been! She—”

The words die in his throat when he catches a glimpse of your husband. He has finally joined you, silently making his appearance on the steps behind Celebrimbor, and now the smith is effectively caught between the two of you, even if the trap is utterly invisible to those around you.

“Seize him,” Celebrimbor scrambles to order, “seize them both.”

Malendol stays put. All eyes around Celebrimbor regard him with nothing but sympathy.

“He is Sauron,” he claims desperately, as truthful an attempt as it is fruitless. “Seize them! They have been lying to you all along.”

“No,” Mirdania shakes her head at your side. “Lord Annatar has been protecting us.”

“While you’ve been in your tower, giving orders that might have been the end of us all,” Malendol adds reproachfully.

You allow yourself the slightest raise of a gloating eyebrow, visible only from the angle of Celebrimbor and your husband. As intended, it fuels the rageful despair in the smith’s eyes.

“No,” he all but pleads to be believed. “No, that was him. He is Sauron! And she...” he points a finger which trembles with anger at you, “His foul lover! His depraved mistress! I saw it! Before my eyes, she tasted his blood as if in some... deranged coupling ritual!”

“By the Valar,” you breathe out, swaying on your feet. Such vulgar words would weaken the knees of a faint-hearted maiden. So, accordingly, you begin to fall in Mirdania’s direction, leaving her to scramble into a hasty attempt at holding you upright. Malendol is at your other side in an instant, helping her to support you with a firm arm around your waist.

“My Lord, please,” Malendol says, appalled. “She has been a loyal friend to us for a long time, one who cares for you greatly. How can you say such degrading words about her?”

“Was it not enough,” you burst out tearfully, holding up your bandaged hand, “that you crushed my fingers with Fëanor’s hammer? I believed it to be an accident, but... To have you question my virtue as well...?”

You dissolve into sobs. Your supposedly wounded hand flies to cover your face. The other one, Malendol takes in his, endlessly sympathetic.

The briefest brush of your husband’s mind through the bond you share tells you that the captain is unlikely to survive the siege.

A chuckle bursts from Celebrimbor’s throat, the sound of one driven to insanity. It is funny. All of it. The trouble for him is that you, your husband and Celebrimbor are the only ones who get the joke. And the poor smith is the butt of it.

“Let not yourselves be fooled by her false tears,” he strives, in vain, to convince them. “She has no shame, no care for any of us! Her heart is black—black as his blood.” He turns to your husband as if in sudden realization. “His blood... Cut him open!” he orders. “Look at his hand, see for yourselves!”

He’s nearly gleeful as he says it, genuinely believing he has found the answer to ending his torment. Some of the pity in your eyes is genuine as you look at him with the same dismayed expression as the others’. Your husband knits his brow, as innocent as ever—and lifts his hand to reveal a cut smeared with what appears to the others as utterly natural, perfectly ordinary red blood.

Any trace of hope is drained from Celebrimbor’s eyes. He stares, wordless, jaw quivering as your husband speaks in that calm and composed tone of his.

“You may speak of me as you wish, Celebrimbor. But I will not have you besmirch a kind Elf maiden’s honor, even out of frailty of mind,” says with great sadness Annatar, the divine messenger who has most certainly never laid one pristine finger upon your most demure self. “Please,” he addresses the guards, “escort him back to the forge.”

But the guards exchange glances, hesitating. It was one thing taking orders from your husband when it came to defending the city, but it appears they do not yet dare lay hands on their supposed true lord. They are very close, though, merely in need of the slightest nudge over the edge. Such as a word from their captain, but Malendol wavers, just as torn. Ensuring that you are indeed steady on your feet, he releases you and lays a hand on the hilt of the sword at his hip as if to ready himself, but hesitates to give the order. You exchange a nervous glance with Mirdania, who is still at your side, hands on your arm.

A nudge... over... the edge.

You wouldn’t even need the bond between your minds to know that you and your husband are thinking the exact same brilliantly awful thing.

You release a shuddering breath, leaning on Mirdania only the slightest bit more. At once, her hold on you tightens reassuringly.

“Come,” she says, beginning to tug you away, “let us get you some water.”

You nod, visibly grateful to follow her. You halt after a couple of steps, however, just as you are passing Celebrimbor, and turn to him as if with sudden determination. At your back stand Mirdania, a gap in the wall and the field of raging Orcs below, and before you is the smith glaring daggers filled with more disdain than you even imagined he possessed. You meet that scornful gaze with nothing but a pained smile.

“I forgive you, you know,” you murmur, only just loud enough for the guards to catch your words as well. “Get better soon, my dear friend.”

Whether it’s your words, imbued with such sickly saccharine affection, or the hand you lay upon his shoulder with utmost gentleness, Celebrimbor loses his last shred of restraint.

“Get your hands off me!” he roars.

It happens quickly, much too quick for anyone to notice exactly what occurred (as was, of course, your intention). Celebrimbor shoves you away with all his strength, causing you to crash into Mirdania, and—perhaps she might have been able to catch herself, if not for the flick of your husband’s wrist which makes her trip over her feet and tumble over the edge of the rampart, screaming all the way down into the Orc-riddled mud field below.

You certainly possess the power to keep your own balance, but you still yelp and stagger through the couple of backward steps that have you nearly slipping off the edge as well. Malendol, however, manages to catch you in the nick of time, as you had seen he was already desperately rushing to do. He yanks you toward him, and you collide with his chest only for your legs to play the part of finally giving out. The heroic captain keeps his hold on you as you crumble to the ground, hyperventilating.

Celebrimbor’s “No!” rings out as he stares down at the fallen Mirdania, but she is just as lost as any sympathy the guards still held for him. You scramble on your hands and knees to look over the edge just in time to see an Orc bring a hatchet down upon her, and shriek her name as you burst yet again into sobs. You keep them coming, loud and miserable, as Malendol helps you to your feet and you fall into his arms with enough force to push him a few steps back, burying your face in his neck.

Discreetly glancing over your shoulder, you see your husband speaking with Celebrimbor. But so loud are your cries, and so intent is Malendol on offering you words of comfort over them, that the others cannot hear their trusted Lord Annatar strip Celebrimbor of the last of his fight with a final threat. Finish the Nine, and I will spare your city.

This time, when your husband turns to the guards and repeats, “Escort him to the forge, please!” they comply without question.

It’s only once Celebrimbor is out of sight that you begin to quiet your sobs, pulling away from Malendol.

“It’s all right,” he comforts you, releasing you from his embrace but still resting his hands on your arms. “He shall trouble you no longer.”

“He meant to throw me over that wall,” you whisper, voice laced with terrible guilt. “Poor Mirdania died because of me!”

Your husband is standing a few feet away, gazing sorrowfully down to where Mirdania lies dead. He had, after all, made his preference of her quite apparent to the others. It would seem odd if he did not spare a moment to mourn.

“No, not because of you,” Malendol insists. “It was but the doing of Lord Celebrimbor’s troubled mind. You must not hold yourself responsible for anything he has done or said.”

“What he said... Oh, what he said!” you whisper, mortified, and lean closer to Malendol as if to conceal your words from your husband, “How am I to face Lord Annatar now?”

“Please,” your husband speaks, and you turn as if startled to find him coming to you with a most sympathetic gaze. “You have not the slightest reason to be ashamed. I only regret that you had to endure such vile accusations, and witness such tragedy. You must not blame yourself for it.”

“Such is her nature, my Lord,” Malendol says, his hand now at the small of your back in a gesture of kind support. “Of all the Elves in Eregion, she is least deserving of such scorn, and suffers the most for it.”

Oh. Between embracing you as you cried on his shoulder and the sheer affection in his voice as he sings you praises, he might as well have gone for a little tea with the Orcs, too. Forget the whole siege—now you doubt your husband will let him survive the hour.

Lord Annatar, however, offers the captain a most gracious smile.

“Thank you, captain,” he says, “for being a most loyal friend when your friendship was most needed. I shall see to it that your honourable deeds are well rewarded.”

Malendol bows his head respectfully, blissfully unaware that his ‘reward’ will very much resemble Mirdania’s.

“Performing one’s moral duty is a reward in itself, my lord. Come,” he turns to you, “let us bring you to safety.”

“No,” your husband says—a fraction of a second too quickly. The slip is much too brief to be caught and the recovery utterly seamless. “You are needed in battle, Captain Malendol. I shall see to it that she makes it safely back inside.”

Malendol exchanges a glance with you, and upon your slight nod, he says, “Of course.” As if on a sudden impulse, he turns to face you, taking your hand in his.

“Fear not, my friend. We shall prevail,” he vows. And leaves a gallant kiss on your knuckles before he takes his leave.

It’s all you can do to school your expression as you are left alone with your husband—well, ‘alone’ in the sense that no one’s focus is trained on you at the moment, but you can hardly risk one of the soldiers catching a glimpse of your triumphant smile when you had gone through so much trouble to earn their sympathy. As such, you meet your husband’s composed gaze with a somewhat shy one, quickly lowering your eyes as though you do not dare hold it for long.

He does not speak a word as he walks you back into the tower, never once attempts to place even so much as a guiding hand at the small of your back. There is the sound of destruction around you, the screams of Elves, but loudest in your mind is the tumultuous blend of emotions within your bond. So proud, so satisfied, so hungry for each other the high of victory in your wicked plans has made you, the very air thrums with the vibrancy of it.

And as if that was not potent enough, there is also that sweet possessive ire you love to rouse within each other, even when you are well aware that no being in existence could ever truly come between you. For them, to merely glance in longing at one of you is a death sentence from you both. Mirdania had sought out your husband’s touch, Malendol had dared embrace in comfort one who belongs solely in her husband’s arms. It matters not that they were allowed, even led into it. When you and your husband play such games, collateral damage is a given.

The moment you are inside the tower, you expect some kind of climax to the tension—you are most eager to be ravaged by its force, whether he should devour your lips to celebrate your flawless performance or crowd you against the wall to thoroughly replace the captain’s innocent touches with his ruinous ones.

But he does neither. He remains as impassive as though you are still being watched. Provoking you into lighting the fuse of the impending explosion yourself. Very well, then. You shall do so gladly.

“Pity about Mirdania, though,” you remark nonchalantly as you ascend the steps to the forge. “I would have liked to see her face when she realized the object of her little infatuation was the Dark Lord himself.”

“Fear not, my love,” your husband says, eerily calm and without looking back as he walks ahead of you. “We shall soon have the pleasure of a similar realization on Captain Malendol’s face, right before I run him through with his own sword.”

Unseen by him, you smirk.

“Well, he was rather eager to save my life,” you goad. “Perhaps he has earned the privilege to die in blissful ignorance after all.”

Only your footsteps fill the following silence until you reach the top of the stairs. You’ve barely climbed the last step when he turns around and—you yelp as your husband quite literally sweeps you off your feet, whisking you bridal style towards your bedchamber, instead of the forge. A giggle escapes you as you cling to him, quite pleased with the reaction you have elicited.

“Tell me, my love,” he says, kicking the door shut behind you, “what need have you of a common Elf captain to save you from falling,” you are unceremoniously released onto the bed, with your husband climbing over you not a moment later, “when you are bound to one of the Maiar who would sooner destroy the foundations of the earth than let you slip from his grasp?”

His hand is sliding up your thigh, lifting your dress on its way. He is a Maia possessed, caught between the high of triumph and the thrill of the chase at which you two so like to play, and you can hardly think of a witty answer when his fingers are only a breath away from where your flesh aches for his touch the most.

But a wicked thought prevails, and you shove him away with all your might. Still, it’s the shock of it rather than your force which knocks him to the side, allowing you to scramble off the bed. It’s almost comical, the half-confused, half-enraged look he gives you.

“Lord Annatar!” you gasp, ostentatiously doe-eyed and quite scandalized as you smooth down your dress in haste. “Surely you do not mean to lure me into some... ‘deranged coupling ritual’?” A little smile flashes through your little act while you savour Celebrimbor’s earlier words on your tongue. “And in the midst of a siege as well!”

You back away from him with slow, tantalizing steps, watching in delight as his gaze darkens in a deliciously sensual threat.

“You loved it, didn’t you?” he says, standing from the bed to walk towards you with all the patient grace of a wolf stalking prey. “Acting the innocent little maiden. Prone to fainting at the merest... suggestion of impropriety.”

His strides are larger than yours, and before long he is close enough to surge forward, swiftly closing the distance between you and grabbing hold of your neck with his blood-coated hand. You gasp as your back suddenly hits the wall, closer than you had realized it was, leaving you pinned between the cool stone and your husband’s body. Your hands fly to his wrist and his lips hover close to yours, teasing you with the promise of a kiss. You chase it just to be cruelly deceived as he evades your mouth, a wicked smile upon his as he lightly but decidedly pushes your head back against the wall.

“Be grateful, my innocent little smith, that there is a siege,” he says in a lurid whisper, releasing your throat to bunch up the skirt of your dress with both hands, “for your fellow Elves are far too distracted to hear you fall apart beneath my touch.” Your undergarments are pushed to the side, and you are so wound up that even the maddeningly light press of his fingers between your legs draws a loud whimper from you. Your husband leans into your ear as you shut your eyes, hips helplessly chasing the slow little circles he makes around your aching bud. “I should hate for anyone to ‘question your virtue’.”

His tongue makes a mockery of your own words from earlier, just before you feel its warmth at the hollow of your throat. You arch your neck as he licks upwards, long and slow, towards your jaw, gathering the blackness his wounded hand had smeared onto your skin. That same hand is now splayed over your rampant heart, holding you down as you fist your hands in the fabric of his garments and writhe with the pleasure he languidly stokes between your thighs. He kisses you, and when his tongue plunges past your lips, your mouth fills with the sweetly metallic taste of his blood, more intoxicating than the strongest liquor. You moan, long and wanton, whining for the firmer, faster, deeper touch he is withholding.

Your husband chuckles. It infuriates you.

“Oh, but you loved it too, didn’t you? When he—ah!” You suck in a sharp breath as he slips two long fingers inside you. Your wetness makes it easy, your body welcoming the familiar intrusion with nigh unbearable delight. It takes great willpower not to shut your eyes, to hold his gaze as he curls his fingers expertly, right where he knows it feels the most divine. “Did you not like it when he called me yours?” you insist, breathlessly. “Did you not want to show them yourself?”

If possible, his eyes darken even further, and his fingers pump inside you with more vigour. “Had it not been utterly counterproductive to our purpose,” he says, voice low and gruff, “I would have taken you right there upon the rampart and proved him right.”

The image is so sudden and vivid before your eyes, it pulls a pitiful mewl from your throat.

“I would have let you,” you gasp, and crush your lips to his with desperate abandon. “I want them to know.”

A guttural sound escapes his throat, and all of a sudden he withdraws his fingers, leaving you achingly empty. You think your legs might give out if it weren’t for his firm hold on you as he pulls you to the nearby window, twisting you around so that your back is against him and you plant your hands on the waist-level windowsill for support.

“Look,” he rasps out in your ear. “Do you see our soon-to-be army, my love? The very first of our devoted subjects?”

In the distance, Orcs holler crude names at each other, ready battle devices, send an endless rain of arrows over the walls of Eregion. It isn’t a pretty sight, but the terror it strikes in the hearts of their enemies and their power of destruction shall be wielded by you and your husband in the near future—and that is no small thing.

You nod, letting the thought sink in and add to the onslaught of elation already driving you wild. Your husband coils one arm around your stomach as the other wraps around your throat once more and he pulls you into him. Your bare folds meet his clothed erection, and you push back against him with a wanton moan, desperate for the friction.

“They shall be followed by Men,” he continues, rutting against you with animalistic greed, “and Dwarves, and Elves, until every single soul in Middle-Earth has been brought to their knees to worship at the feet of their King and Queen. Then, we shall at long last stand together before them all.”

“A love greater than ever was or ever will be,” you say, high-pitched and breathless, as if you are repeating words you have told yourself a thousand times. “All shall aspire to be us, yet none shall succeed.”

You are released abruptly. You hear the shuffle of fabrics, and sure enough, the swollen tip of him is soon nudging at your entrance.

“And how beautiful you shall be, my love,” your husband whispers, the sheer reverence in his voice a stark contrast to his lurid words, “with a crown upon your head, and my cock buried deep within you.”

He slides in to the hilt, quick and powerful, and you cry out. You could take him a million times, in a million different ways, and yet the perfect fit would never cease to steal your breath. He withdraws only to thrust back in, then again, setting a punishing rhythm which is nearly enough to obliterate any semblance of coherent thought from your mind. It would be so easy to let him plough into you just like this until you come undone, yet you crave something else. More.

“Wait,” you plead, planting a hand onto his hip to push him away. “Let me... let me...”

He does, letting himself slip from you with a rueful grunt. You turn to face him on unsteady legs, to look upon his face as you had so longed to—the only reason which had given you the will to interrupt your pleasure as you did. Your eyes never leave his as you seat yourself upon the windowsill, lifting your skirts once more. “I want all that,” you confess as he nestles his hips between your spread legs. “But I want you more.” He groans as you stroke his length, then guide the weeping tip back to your entrance. “I want it with you, or not at all.”

Your voice is so thin, it nearly chokes out at the end, your chest constricted with emotion—with the fear of being forced to let go as you have been before, always present in the deepest corner of your hearts. Something flickers in your husband’s gaze, the same anguish which wrenches at your soul.

“My love,” he breathes out the words as though they are the last thread by which his very existence hangs. “My love,” he vows and prays and fiercely claims as he nestles himself in your tight heat once more. You don’t know which sinks deeper into you—his swollen cock or the look in his eyes, which remain devastatingly locked with yours as he joins your flesh. Perhaps there is some innocence left in you to be ruined after all, for so raw and disarmed you are left by this union, tears spring in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. Your husband gathers them with his lips and tongue as he rocks into you anew, far from gentle but less brutal than before, with deep, long thrusts that leave you too weak to sit up if it weren’t for his arms holding you to him.

Outside, the battle rages on. Inside, you fight to prolong this, to wring every last drop of the sweet torment that is your ascent to the peak of your pleasure. You lay a hand over your husband’s heart, feeling it hammer on in tandem with yours as he drives into you with increasing urgency. You are reduced to a string of incoherent mewls as you bury your face in your husband’s neck, mindlessly licking and biting at his skin.

His sounds of pleasure are less loud, but much deeper as they reverberate beneath your lips. You want more—so you fist your hand in his hair, with no mercy for the carefully-crafted bow at the back of his head. Crafted by you, on a playful whim the very morning before the siege began—he’d teased and claimed you were sure to ruin your own work the next time he would bed you. You don’t even think of that now, consumed by pleasure as you tug and pull with abandon, feeling the fair tresses come apart beneath your fingers. It drives your husband even wilder with lust than he already was, and he grabs your face to devour your lips as he spirals closer to his release.

Your own takes over you in an abrupt instant, right as your husband reaches between you to rub your swollen bud above where you are joined. You sob into his mouth, trembling as your hips thrash in a confused attempt to both escape and chase the unbearable height of pleasure thrust upon you.

Your husband fucks you through it, pulling you close and cooing in your ear, calling you his and ‘love’ and all sorts of adoring things in Black Speech through his own heavy breaths. Your name falls from his lips in a ragged moan as he finds his pleasure, and you feel it echo through your bond with nearly as much power as your own. His seed will not take unless he wills it so, and neither of you wish for that, but you still clench around him longingly, greedy to draw every last drop of him as deep within yourself as possible, because it is him. You’d spend each second of your life with him inside of you, if not for the impracticality of it.

Once spent, your husband remains as he is, simply holding you to him. He cradles your head in his hands, pressing sweet kisses to your hair, and you are too weak to do anything but sag against him whilst you regain your breath.

“Why, Lord Annatar,” you whisper, smiling tiredly, “I’m starting to suspect you might have impure intentions towards me after all.”

He gives a soft chuckle, pulling away to look at you. “Whatever gave you that idea, my lady?”

The innocuous words are followed by your husband gently withdrawing himself from you, leaving a great, leaking mess between your legs. The only response you can give is a soft groan as his fingers gather some of his spend from your sensitive folds, and gently press it back inside of you where it belongs. With a small, satisfied hum, he steps away to tuck himself back into his garments. You press your legs together, sighing contently at the delightful ache left in the aftermath of your lovemaking.

“However will you keep up this innocent act of yours,” your husband muses, “now that I shall be dripping down your beautiful thighs with every step you take?”

“Please,” you say coyly, standing up and fixing your dress as though your undergarments are not soaked beyond hope beneath it, and your legs don’t still feel a bit unsteady. “I’ve managed before.”

He smiles knowingly. “Indeed, you have.” He pulls you close by the waist, as if you haven’t just parted from one another. “Always so eager to wear me,” he praises, and there is nothing insincere about your flustered little smile now. It’s true that you delight in wearing what he gives you, whether it be his spend nestled between your legs or a less secretive gift. Which reminds you of the gift you had given him to wear. You lay a hand on his cheek and coax him to turn his head silghtly, pouting when you glimpse the mess of tangled tresses you have made in his hair.

“You were right,” you admit, somewhat regretful, “I did ruin the bow.”

“Like the merciless creature that you are,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. When you pull back, his appearance has already been restored. It isn’t quite as meaningful, now that his power did the work instead of your hands, but you suppose you’ve been gone long enough already. Now that your hunger for each other has been sated, your husband shares that sentiment.

“Come, now,” he says, taking your hand and making for the door. “I believe Celebrimbor is in need of encouragement with his work.”

“What are we, if not encouraging?” you quip, and gladly follow his lead.

Previous fic with same reader -> Reveal

Next fic with same reader -> Old wounds

i bleed the same

annatar/sauron x fem!elf!reader

summary: after halbrand returns to eregion, he takes on a new form. and you feel drawn to it as much as to the darkness inside of him.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, angst, unprotected sex, biting, fluff means sauron is in love (can that even be possible??)

word count: 2k

author’s note: this is part 2 of ‘if you bled’. please read it first, before you continue. maybe this one is little bit of a mess but god, love me a soft sauron. 😫 the song inspired for this part is better by syml. i hope you enjoy it and don’t forget how i much i appreciate your likes and reblogs — it means so much to me. xx

part 1

After Halbrand disappeared, he did not return but you often wished, he would.

Sometimes you even believed, that you could see him come around a corner out of a sudden, until you realized it is just one of the other elves.

A few days later, Galadriel and Elrond left to return back to Lindon with the rings. They tried to convince you to come with them, but you knew you didn't belong there anymore. So you stayed in Eregion while you waited for Halbrand to return, just like he promised you.

The weeks went by and with each passing day you lost more hope of seeing him again. And with your hope, his promises also began to vanish.

Until, one day, Mirdania rushes into the great forge and joins Celebrimbor's side. Even though their voices are lowered, you try to understand some of what she is saying to the Lord of Eregion. Then, when she mentions a messenger from the Southlands, the hammer you hold falls from your hands in shock as you take a sharp breath.

This can’t be possible.

All eyes are suddenly on you, but you don’t care, just like you don’t care about the hammer that is still lying on the ground. You grab the skirt of your dress and run, ignoring Celebrimbor's call. Your path leads you out of the forge, into the yard and to the gate.

And there you see him standing. The man you had been waiting for all this time. The man who had finally kept his promise and returned to you.

He has his back to you and you let your gaze slide over it. There is a wound on his right shoulder and your heart instantly clenches in your chest. Wherever he had been, he had been in pain, you can feel it.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Halbrand turns around and your eyes meet. For a moment, time stands still and you see the hint of a smile on his face.

You return it as best you can, but you sense that something is wrong. Not a second later, Mirdania walks past you towards Halbrand. “My lord, I must ask you to leave,” she says and glances over her shoulder at you shortly.

Halbrand turns his gaze to the elf and puts on a charming smile. “Why do you want me to leave? I've only just arrived”, he answers and smiles at Mirdania, making the butterflies in your stomach swirl around and you lower your gaze.

“I'm not asking you to leave, the Lord of Eregion is. He has no interest in negotiating with you,” the elf replies before turning away and walking towards you. Her gaze is on you, then she grabs your wrist and pulls you with her.

“Wait, I-” you begin, but Mirdania interrupts you. “Lord Celebrimbor says we can't trust him. None of us should get involved with him. Not even you.” Although her voice is tense, you can't help but let out a laugh. “You can't be serious. I know who I can get involved with and with whom not,” you try to defend yourself, but she just pulls you further away from him.

“Lady Galadriel says otherwise,” she replies and you freeze. “What does Galadriel have to do with this?” you ask with a slightly raised voice. For a moment Mirdania just looks at you, then she leads you back into the forge and out of Halbrand's reach.

You have no way of returning to Halbrand for the rest of the day. But you know that he is waiting. Even if not just for you. When it starts to rain in the evening and Halbrand is still standing in the yard, waiting, Lord Celebrimbor finally decides to go to him himself.

Some time pass and as he returns with Halbrand close behind him, the forge is completely empty — except you. Both of them are soaked and you are about to ask if you can bring them anything, but Celebrimbor silences you with a wave of his hand. “You have done enough. You can go,” he says, leaving you no chance to protest.

Your gaze falls on Halbrand, who is looking at you with a gentle expression in his eyes. He gives you a slight, barely noticeable nod and you turn away to go to your chamber.

You lie on your bed for a while and stare at the ceiling, your thoughts swirling wildly. There is so much you wanted to know, so many questions and only one person who knows the answers. And you hope that you would get it soon.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because a gentle touch on your face wakes you. It takes a moment until you can think clearly again and you recognize a person sitting on the edge of your bed. You immediately sit up and slide away from the figure.

“Don't be afraid,” his words sound through the darkness and you start to relax. “Halbrand?” you whisper and he nods slowly. “But now, call me Annatar“, his voice is low as he answers making you swallow hard.

Annatar raises his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is so familiar that you can't resist any longer and lean into it while you close your eyes slightly.

Suddenly the fire in the fireplace lights up and fills the room with a warm light.

After a few seconds, your gaze finds his and you can't help but examine his new form. He examines you just as intensely, as if he's waiting for a reaction.

But everything you could do is raising your hand and taking one of the blonde strands of his new hair between your fingers. You must have been silent for a little too long, because he puts his fingers around your wrist and looks you intently in the eyes. “You don't seem particularly impressed,” he says with a raised eyebrow, but you shake your head.

“No, it's not that. It's just... it’s new,” you admit, making him smile. “And I thought you were asking me to take on Halbrand's face again,” he rests his other hand on your thigh and you lean a little closer to him.

“Well, even though I think a beard suits you so much better, this face is just as fine,” you say with a smile and look him in his now deep blue eyes. But then you remember that he had been in hurt and in pain not so long ago and let your gaze fall down.

Annatar, who seems to have sensed the sudden change in your expression, frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me, what happened to you? Why did it take you so long to come back?” you ask, but Annatar just smiles. “Is this your way of telling me that you’ve missed me?” he asks with a hint of amusement and you snort quietly, but can’t help but smile.

Your fingertips glide gently over his cheek, and instead of the stubble you can feel his soft skin there. Even though he looks completely different now, you can feel that it is him.

“You are Sauron,” you suddenly say out loud for the first time before looking him in the eyes again. He returns your gaze, then nods. “But that doesn't seem to bother you,” he says carefully.

“No... even though it should. I should hate you for everything you've done. But I can't. I could never,” you whisper and feel him caressing your thigh with his thumb.

“She tried to convince you not to trust me,” Annatar says suddenly, thoughtful, and now you frown. “Galadriel...,” he adds, sensing your confusion.

You nod and let out a strained laugh. “Of course she did… what do you think? You deceived her. Like all of us. But she still doesn't have the right to decide who I give my heart to,” you say quietly and gasp softly as Annatar's fingers press tightly into the skin of your thigh.

“You should be careful who you give it to. Hearts are incredibly precious,” he whispers, leaning closer to you. You feel his breath brush over your lips and open them slightly, then his mouth is on yours.

Hot and demanding, as if he had been waiting for centuries to kiss you.

You can't help but moan, a mixture of desperation and longing as you bury your hands in his hair. Oh, how you already love these long strands.

His hands find their way to your hips, where he grabs you and pulls you closer to his body. A growl escapes from his lips, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin.

Breathing heavily, he pulls away from you again and presses his forehead against yours. “If we don't stop right now, I don't know how much longer I can hold back,” he says in a rough voice and you tremble. Your hands are still in his hair and you press yourself a little closer against him. “What if I don't want you to hold back?” you breathe against his lips.

And with that you unleash a storm.

Suddenly he is on top of you and presses your back into the mattress. His hands are all over your body, touching, pulling and caressing while you gasp for air.

Seconds later he starts to undress you, his hands touching every little part of your body before you get him out of his garments. They land on the floor just like your dress and he pulls you closer again.

All you can feel is Annatar's skin against yours, his fingertips wandering over your shoulders and his hard cock between your bodies as you straddle his lap.

He touches you as if you could crumble to dust before his eyes at any moment, and no matter how deeply you would like to feel him inside you right now, you can’t help but enjoy the feeling of his closeness and the desire that takes your breath away.

Finally, his hands move under your thighs and you look into his eyes as you position yourself above him. Your gazes are locked as you sink down onto him, but you had to close your eyes. It takes your breath away and you need a moment to get used to his size. Then you start to move and you moan with pleasure. Nothing has ever felt so good.

You press your forehead against his, as you pant heavily with one of your hands buried in his hair, the other in the bedsheets clawing onto them.

“Let me make you my queen,” he blurts out as you continue to move. You both have to groan before you realize what he just said. “What?” you gasp and pause. He takes advantage of this moment, puts his arm around your waist and turns you so that you are lying under him again.

He's still deep inside you and he moves his hips briefly to make it clear to you. “Become my queen,” he repeats and lowers his head to your breasts. He gently sucks on your nipple, moving slowly as if he's savoring every second of it.

“But I-” you stop and pant as he bites the skin beneath your breasts and look down at him. “Become my wife and I will lay all of Middle Earth at your feet. I will destroy anyone who does not submit to you — to us,” he continues and if you weren't so high on your feelings right now, you would have thought that this must be a joke.

You're just about to say something again when he suddenly speeds up his pace again. He thrusts deep into you, making your eyes roll back in your head. Your breathing gets heavier and your moans get louder until you hear his voice in your ear.

“Let go for me, my queen” Annatar ducks his fingers in your skin as your climax roll over you. You cry into his mouth, burying your fingers in his hair as if he was the only thing you could hold on to.

His breath is still on your ear as he moans softly, finding his own release and you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. Panting heavily, he places a soft kiss on your neck and breathes in your scent. Then he falls onto the sheets next to you and pulls you in his arms.

Lost in your thoughts, you draw small circles on his bare chest until he takes your hand in his, catching your attention. “I meant it. Become my wife and we will heal Middle Earth together,” he whispers and raises his other hand closed in front of your face before opening it.

In his palm lies one of the three elven rings.

For a moment you are too stunned to speak, until you find your voice again.

“Where… did you get it? Galadriel took them all with her,” you whisper and take the ring carefully in between your thumb and index finger.

“Does it matter?” he asks, stroking the back of your free hand with his thumb. “Is that a yes?” he asks, looking down at you expectantly.

You don't know what to say. But you know what your heart is telling you. And even though it was a betrayal of those you love and your entire kind, you know it's the right thing to do.

Because the darkness had called for you for your whole life.

“Yes...” you breathe and raise your gaze to meet his eyes again. There's a smile on Sauron's face as he takes the ring from your hand and gently slides it onto your finger.

“Then take this ring as my promise. I will give you the world and bring every being to its knees so that they will worship my queen.” With that, he leans forward and kisses the silver ring on your finger. And while you watch him, you know that one thing is certain.

This is all you've ever wanted.

And he is all you ever desired.

2024 | notreallythatlost

oh well, it’s getting hot in here

deception

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: years pass in Eregion and reader learns how much connected she is with Sauron

warnings: some blood, but none really

word count: 2,2k

author’s note: finally the fun begins. also keep in mind this is a story that spans over hundred of years. enjoy!

It was no secret why you pursued the dark arts in the first place. A forgotten book in your father’s library when you were a child. A child. Who in their right mind would let someone so young to read upon the cursed texts? But what happened could not be undone.

You learned in secret, became obsessive at times, your family believed you to study, to one day become a respected diplomat for the realm. How disappointed they were to hear what you have done from the mouths of others.

Cast out and alone you made your new life. You never saw them again and yet you knew them to be long gone.

It became your solace, powerful and unpredictable but you preferred it that way. You had your days when you tried to leave it behind, stop this pursuit but it always lingered, drew you even more back in.

You look up from under the tree and up into the sky, your hand picks at the skin on your palm unconsciously.

The faint scar on your finger makes you wonder what his intention was. He drew blood that day in the cell and you never questioned, never thought that there may be an intention behind it.

The man you saw in the garden looked nothing like the Sauron you knew, but you heard he could take whatever form he liked.

He survived then. That beam of light was his doing, the pain you felt was his work, but how? You trace the scar and head to the library.

It’s been some time since that day in the forge, the High King has been informed and you’ve been confined to the forge, cleaning rather than creating. Celebrimbor saw with time how quickly the blackened fingertips faded with each good deed and requested for your freedom to be expanded.

There were some Elves who deemed it uncertain of what your time would be like if you started to dwell into Eregion‘s tomes and scrolls. Celebrimbor assured them that it would be supervised. And so you took out every piece of parchment you could find, book and a passage to ensure he did not do it.

You spend a whole evening in the library when you come across it. A short mention but nevertheless clear as day. He planned it, he smiled when you healed the small cut and there was this gnawing feeling within you when he did so.

The black blood looked indistinguishable from the one over your darkened fingertips.

You rush out of the library and the guards barely catch up with you, but let you be as they see you heading to your bed chamber. You lock the door and lean against it, your breathing heavy. Your feet carry you to the bathroom and you rub at your fingertips where the small scar is left, you move so harshly that you draw blood.

It drips down and you stare in horror, black mixed with red.

He bound you… to him.

You’ve heard of rituals involving exchanging blood but for this one you hope he did not spoke the vow that sealed it.

“It suits you.” you turn startled to see him standing before you. A shadow this time, almost human like, not the man you saw before.

“Get out of my head.” you snap and storm out of the bathroom, he follows you and leans against the doorframe. You hope there’s no guards outside if they were to hear whatever you would say to a ghost in your mind.

“I told you we’re bound.” his voice is distorted, like a spell cast over it.

You scoff at his words and speak through clenched teeth. “To path to darkness, not to each other.”

“Not yet.” he moves closer.

You step back until your back hits the wall, he’s not truly there but his presence alone makes you move according to his rhythm. “You cannot think I would willingly give myself to you.” it’s a twisted thought and you tip on the axis of whether you want it to come true or not.

“With time, perhaps.”

Your eyes go ever wider. “You’re insane.”

He leans above you and you avoid his gaze as his phantom breath lands next to your ear. “One day, you’ll need me just as I’ll need you.” when he pulls back he looks at you with such adoration. If he were truly here, people would mistake you for lovers.

He’s right though, you will need him. Who wouldn’t want the help of a feared sorcerer? The one person who can show you the craft you so longed to learn.

A knock comes at the door and you tear your gaze from him, he vanishes in your mind and you run your hand down your face. Persistent shadow.

You open the door to a guard. “Lord Celebrimbor wishes to see you.”

You give him a short nod. “I’ll come by the workshop later.” you start to close the door but his spear stops you from doing so.

“He wishes to see you now.” you sigh but follow his lead.

When you walk down to the forge a distinct conversation dies down as you enter. You see Celebrimbor standing with… the High King. You march closer to them, the forge is quiet, the fire crackling in the pit.

“High King.” you give him a nod. It’s been a few hundred years since he sent you to Eregion, you wonder if he comes to judge your progress or to put an end to it.

“Lord Celebrimbor has informed me of your growth in your punishment.” he starts, though his voice sounds as if the words were poison on his tongue. You knew he never took liking to you and you never hid your disdain. His next words make you rethink that perhaps he had a heart after all. “We’ve decided to free you of your confines.”

You stare agape. “What?”

Celebrimbor steps closer. “Your hands are clean, have been for many years now. I believe this could be a start of something new.” he says as he takes your hands in his and cuts the metal around your wrists.

You feel as if a weight has been lifted from your soul, like you can finally breathe. You pinch yourself, this could be another dream, another illusion from Sauron but you feel the sting on your arm.

Gil-Galad comes closer. “This does not mean that you will be less watched. The moment you dip back into your old craft, the archers will kill you without hesitation.” a threat and you see the honesty in it.

“Of course.” you respond. The High King bids goodbye to Celebrimbor and you don’t know whether to feel elated or frightened. You’re free, no more chains to hold you down, after so many years. You look down at your hand and hesitate to conjure up the smallest speckle of light. Celebrimbor notices it.

“Go on.” he encourages you. “I must admit, I’ve never seen a wizard, much less a witch to create something without using a staff.”

You gather the courage and bring up a small mist of light, scattered across your palm. You laugh and your eyes fill with tears.

“Freeing, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” you whisper. You form an orb of light and almost caress it. You close the palm of your hand and the light that illuminated your face fades out in the wind. You feel a presence in the back of your mind but pay it no mind, you turn to Celebrimbor. “Shall we continue with our work?”

He smiles. “We shall.”

Time passes as you become a well-respected Elvensmith of Eregion and in those years you learn to create a perfect illusion of the effects from using dark magic. It didn’t take you long to be pulled back into it, a scroll here and there, you took many notes, crafted your own spells for your needs. Celebrimbor never suspected. Gil-Galad never knew.

And your shadow remained and with time you started to tolerate his presence but still refused to bind yourself completely to him.

You used him as much as he used you. You were his eyes in Eregion whether you liked it or not, you could not avoid it. He was a cunning sorcerer, that much you knew from your time under Morgoth’s and yet you never realized how inventive he could become. You’ve learned more from him than in all your years of studying the craft.

“Focus.” he tells you as you try to form your own illusion over your body. Your bed chamber is quiet, no guards posted outside, the balcony slightly opened to let the fresh air of the night. You pin your attention to your hands, the dark fingertips motionless in the air as they glide over your other hand.

After a moment your hand once youthful and smooth turns wrinkled with speckles of old age. “Good. You listened for once.”

“Believe it or not but your instructions sometimes prove useful.”

“Sometimes?”

You tilt your head at him. “Don’t mock.” your hand returns to its former beauty, the effects of dark magic visible in the comfort of your own chambers.

“You could leave Eregion. The High King has pardoned you, Celebrimbor believes you pose no threat. Why haven’t you?” he asks.

You could, but you needed to stay, you knew he would come here in the future.

“I can bide my time here a bit longer.” you admit. You did not wish to part from Eregion yet, you waited until Greenwood had all but forgotten your name before you could return to the calmness of your cottage. It may take years but you could wait, time was at your side.

You stand up from your spot on the bed and close the journal that lay beside you. You go over to your desk and hide it from any prying eyes. Your spells, your creation, your precious.

“Tread carefully.” he says and you turn to face him. He stands right next to you and you could almost feel his breath on your face. “They may have fallen under your deception but sooner or later you’ll slip.”

You lift your hand, the scar barely visible on your finger. “Then I’ll need you more than ever.” he looks down to your finger and gently takes your hand. Even through the illusion, the shadow you can feel the dulled touch.

“And you claimed you’ll never give yourself willingly.” he teases and raises your hand. You tilt your hand and move your hand further to place it where his cheek would have been. For a moment you think he’ll melt into your touch, a Dark Lord at your mercy. You grab his jaw forcefully and bring it down to you, even as an illusion he complied with whatever you wanted to do with him.

His gaze is unyielding and he smirks. “I won’t. At my deathbed I might, but not before.”

“I can arrange that.” you let go of him and his hand goes over his stubble. “In time, you will beg me to.”

He disappears once again leaving you alone in your chambers. This man… you grunt in annoyance and close the door to the balcony. Your sight lands on the desk, you’ve grown quite irritated at his constant disappearances. You lock the door to your chambers and sit up on the bed, your journal lays before you once more with hopes of mastering the spell once and for all.

You concentrate and lay back on the bed, you close your eyes trying to pin point where he is. You hear the water surrounding him before you see him. He lays there or so you think, below the deck, his eyes open as he senses you. The old man sees him looking around, not aware of your presence.

“Nightmares again? What haunts you so?” the old man asks. It’s then he notices you, you never sought him out that was his task but there in the shadows you stood just like he has before.

“I’ve done evil.” he says while looking at you.

The old man leans closer. “All of us have done things that we care not to admit.”

“Not like I have.” the silence weighs, you dare not to respond. The old man lectures him about choosing good, you scoff. You could never imagine him being in the light, every good act he’s done has been for his own gain. You understand, you’ve done the same.

You come closer and kneel before him. He watches you and when you try to speak to him the words caught up in your throat. He smiles for a moment, such a fleeting expression. You may have learned how to reach him but conveying a message would take time.

His eyes grow wide when he feels the beast beneath the deck and he aims for your head as if to push you down to the side. You disappear from his sight as the water crashes through the boards.

You gasp as you sit up on the bed and your hand flies to your head. You curse under your breath and try to get back to him but you’ve reached your limit.

You’ll have to wait until he reaches out again.

i bleed the same

annatar/sauron x fem!elf!reader

summary: after halbrand returns to eregion, he takes on a new form. and you feel drawn to it as much as to the darkness inside of him.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, angst, unprotected sex, biting, fluff means sauron is in love (can that even be possible??)

word count: 2k

author’s note: this is part 2 of ‘if you bled’. please read it first, before you continue. maybe this one is little bit of a mess but god, love me a soft sauron. 😫 the song inspired for this part is better by syml. i hope you enjoy it and don’t forget how i much i appreciate your likes and reblogs — it means so much to me. xx

part 1

After Halbrand disappeared, he did not return but you often wished, he would.

Sometimes you even believed, that you could see him come around a corner out of a sudden, until you realized it is just one of the other elves.

A few days later, Galadriel and Elrond left to return back to Lindon with the rings. They tried to convince you to come with them, but you knew you didn't belong there anymore. So you stayed in Eregion while you waited for Halbrand to return, just like he promised you.

The weeks went by and with each passing day you lost more hope of seeing him again. And with your hope, his promises also began to vanish.

Until, one day, Mirdania rushes into the great forge and joins Celebrimbor's side. Even though their voices are lowered, you try to understand some of what she is saying to the Lord of Eregion. Then, when she mentions a messenger from the Southlands, the hammer you hold falls from your hands in shock as you take a sharp breath.

This can’t be possible.

All eyes are suddenly on you, but you don’t care, just like you don’t care about the hammer that is still lying on the ground. You grab the skirt of your dress and run, ignoring Celebrimbor's call. Your path leads you out of the forge, into the yard and to the gate.

And there you see him standing. The man you had been waiting for all this time. The man who had finally kept his promise and returned to you.

He has his back to you and you let your gaze slide over it. There is a wound on his right shoulder and your heart instantly clenches in your chest. Wherever he had been, he had been in pain, you can feel it.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Halbrand turns around and your eyes meet. For a moment, time stands still and you see the hint of a smile on his face.

You return it as best you can, but you sense that something is wrong. Not a second later, Mirdania walks past you towards Halbrand. “My lord, I must ask you to leave,” she says and glances over her shoulder at you shortly.

Halbrand turns his gaze to the elf and puts on a charming smile. “Why do you want me to leave? I've only just arrived”, he answers and smiles at Mirdania, making the butterflies in your stomach swirl around and you lower your gaze.

“I'm not asking you to leave, the Lord of Eregion is. He has no interest in negotiating with you,” the elf replies before turning away and walking towards you. Her gaze is on you, then she grabs your wrist and pulls you with her.

“Wait, I-” you begin, but Mirdania interrupts you. “Lord Celebrimbor says we can't trust him. None of us should get involved with him. Not even you.” Although her voice is tense, you can't help but let out a laugh. “You can't be serious. I know who I can get involved with and with whom not,” you try to defend yourself, but she just pulls you further away from him.

“Lady Galadriel says otherwise,” she replies and you freeze. “What does Galadriel have to do with this?” you ask with a slightly raised voice. For a moment Mirdania just looks at you, then she leads you back into the forge and out of Halbrand's reach.

You have no way of returning to Halbrand for the rest of the day. But you know that he is waiting. Even if not just for you. When it starts to rain in the evening and Halbrand is still standing in the yard, waiting, Lord Celebrimbor finally decides to go to him himself.

Some time pass and as he returns with Halbrand close behind him, the forge is completely empty — except you. Both of them are soaked and you are about to ask if you can bring them anything, but Celebrimbor silences you with a wave of his hand. “You have done enough. You can go,” he says, leaving you no chance to protest.

Your gaze falls on Halbrand, who is looking at you with a gentle expression in his eyes. He gives you a slight, barely noticeable nod and you turn away to go to your chamber.

You lie on your bed for a while and stare at the ceiling, your thoughts swirling wildly. There is so much you wanted to know, so many questions and only one person who knows the answers. And you hope that you would get it soon.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because a gentle touch on your face wakes you. It takes a moment until you can think clearly again and you recognize a person sitting on the edge of your bed. You immediately sit up and slide away from the figure.

“Don't be afraid,” his words sound through the darkness and you start to relax. “Halbrand?” you whisper and he nods slowly. “But now, call me Annatar“, his voice is low as he answers making you swallow hard.

Annatar raises his hand and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The touch is so familiar that you can't resist any longer and lean into it while you close your eyes slightly.

Suddenly the fire in the fireplace lights up and fills the room with a warm light.

After a few seconds, your gaze finds his and you can't help but examine his new form. He examines you just as intensely, as if he's waiting for a reaction.

But everything you could do is raising your hand and taking one of the blonde strands of his new hair between your fingers. You must have been silent for a little too long, because he puts his fingers around your wrist and looks you intently in the eyes. “You don't seem particularly impressed,” he says with a raised eyebrow, but you shake your head.

“No, it's not that. It's just... it’s new,” you admit, making him smile. “And I thought you were asking me to take on Halbrand's face again,” he rests his other hand on your thigh and you lean a little closer to him.

“Well, even though I think a beard suits you so much better, this face is just as fine,” you say with a smile and look him in his now deep blue eyes. But then you remember that he had been in hurt and in pain not so long ago and let your gaze fall down.

Annatar, who seems to have sensed the sudden change in your expression, frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me, what happened to you? Why did it take you so long to come back?” you ask, but Annatar just smiles. “Is this your way of telling me that you’ve missed me?” he asks with a hint of amusement and you snort quietly, but can’t help but smile.

Your fingertips glide gently over his cheek, and instead of the stubble you can feel his soft skin there. Even though he looks completely different now, you can feel that it is him.

“You are Sauron,” you suddenly say out loud for the first time before looking him in the eyes again. He returns your gaze, then nods. “But that doesn't seem to bother you,” he says carefully.

“No... even though it should. I should hate you for everything you've done. But I can't. I could never,” you whisper and feel him caressing your thigh with his thumb.

“She tried to convince you not to trust me,” Annatar says suddenly, thoughtful, and now you frown. “Galadriel...,” he adds, sensing your confusion.

You nod and let out a strained laugh. “Of course she did… what do you think? You deceived her. Like all of us. But she still doesn't have the right to decide who I give my heart to,” you say quietly and gasp softly as Annatar's fingers press tightly into the skin of your thigh.

“You should be careful who you give it to. Hearts are incredibly precious,” he whispers, leaning closer to you. You feel his breath brush over your lips and open them slightly, then his mouth is on yours.

Hot and demanding, as if he had been waiting for centuries to kiss you.

You can't help but moan, a mixture of desperation and longing as you bury your hands in his hair. Oh, how you already love these long strands.

His hands find their way to your hips, where he grabs you and pulls you closer to his body. A growl escapes from his lips, causing goosebumps to spread across your skin.

Breathing heavily, he pulls away from you again and presses his forehead against yours. “If we don't stop right now, I don't know how much longer I can hold back,” he says in a rough voice and you tremble. Your hands are still in his hair and you press yourself a little closer against him. “What if I don't want you to hold back?” you breathe against his lips.

And with that you unleash a storm.

Suddenly he is on top of you and presses your back into the mattress. His hands are all over your body, touching, pulling and caressing while you gasp for air.

Seconds later he starts to undress you, his hands touching every little part of your body before you get him out of his garments. They land on the floor just like your dress and he pulls you closer again.

All you can feel is Annatar's skin against yours, his fingertips wandering over your shoulders and his hard cock between your bodies as you straddle his lap.

He touches you as if you could crumble to dust before his eyes at any moment, and no matter how deeply you would like to feel him inside you right now, you can’t help but enjoy the feeling of his closeness and the desire that takes your breath away.

Finally, his hands move under your thighs and you look into his eyes as you position yourself above him. Your gazes are locked as you sink down onto him, but you had to close your eyes. It takes your breath away and you need a moment to get used to his size. Then you start to move and you moan with pleasure. Nothing has ever felt so good.

You press your forehead against his, as you pant heavily with one of your hands buried in his hair, the other in the bedsheets clawing onto them.

“Let me make you my queen,” he blurts out as you continue to move. You both have to groan before you realize what he just said. “What?” you gasp and pause. He takes advantage of this moment, puts his arm around your waist and turns you so that you are lying under him again.

He's still deep inside you and he moves his hips briefly to make it clear to you. “Become my queen,” he repeats and lowers his head to your breasts. He gently sucks on your nipple, moving slowly as if he's savoring every second of it.

“But I-” you stop and pant as he bites the skin beneath your breasts and look down at him. “Become my wife and I will lay all of Middle Earth at your feet. I will destroy anyone who does not submit to you — to us,” he continues and if you weren't so high on your feelings right now, you would have thought that this must be a joke.

You're just about to say something again when he suddenly speeds up his pace again. He thrusts deep into you, making your eyes roll back in your head. Your breathing gets heavier and your moans get louder until you hear his voice in your ear.

“Let go for me, my queen” Annatar ducks his fingers in your skin as your climax roll over you. You cry into his mouth, burying your fingers in his hair as if he was the only thing you could hold on to.

His breath is still on your ear as he moans softly, finding his own release and you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. Panting heavily, he places a soft kiss on your neck and breathes in your scent. Then he falls onto the sheets next to you and pulls you in his arms.

Lost in your thoughts, you draw small circles on his bare chest until he takes your hand in his, catching your attention. “I meant it. Become my wife and we will heal Middle Earth together,” he whispers and raises his other hand closed in front of your face before opening it.

In his palm lies one of the three elven rings.

For a moment you are too stunned to speak, until you find your voice again.

“Where… did you get it? Galadriel took them all with her,” you whisper and take the ring carefully in between your thumb and index finger.

“Does it matter?” he asks, stroking the back of your free hand with his thumb. “Is that a yes?” he asks, looking down at you expectantly.

You don't know what to say. But you know what your heart is telling you. And even though it was a betrayal of those you love and your entire kind, you know it's the right thing to do.

Because the darkness had called for you for your whole life.

“Yes...” you breathe and raise your gaze to meet his eyes again. There's a smile on Sauron's face as he takes the ring from your hand and gently slides it onto your finger.

“Then take this ring as my promise. I will give you the world and bring every being to its knees so that they will worship my queen.” With that, he leans forward and kisses the silver ring on your finger. And while you watch him, you know that one thing is certain.

This is all you've ever wanted.

And he is all you ever desired.

2024 | notreallythatlost

you really want to kill me, right??

visions

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: the high king makes his judgement, a new path opens

warnings: none

word count: 2,3k

author’s note: here we go, part two for bound… and soon more to come, let me just get their story straight. enjoy!

”The Woodland Realm has exiled you, why should we aid and welcome you in Lindon?” no greeting, no smile, you already feel that this conversation will take a toll on you.

“Did you believe me to be dead? Or did you wish for it?” you ask and curse yourself for your tongue speaks quicker than your mind. Gil-Galad looks at you with disdain. You try to calm your growing anger. “Whatever Oropher told you is not true.”

“Is it not?” he questions and steps closer. The guards watch your every movement, waiting for you to slip up, to give them a reason to attack. “Were you not the Elf that nearly killed a fellow companion because her anger grew into rage?”

An accident. A mere accident that decided the fate of your life.

“I never meant for—“

“But you did.” he cuts you off. You look to Galadriel who stands next to Elrond, he turns away from your sight but the Commander watches the scene unfold.

You wrote to her, countless times to seek her aid. Elrond as well. All of your letters went unanswered and you thought that perhaps an order was given to burn any passage written by you.

Gil-Galad regards you. “You sought out that which is forbidden. Lindon, Greenwood or any other Elven realm will not stand by it.”

You look up at him, the golden crown that adorns his head, gleaming in the sun. He looked like an emissary from the Valar themselves. Your eyes travel to your hands, so much harm they once caused. Gil-Galad waits as you try to gather your words.

“If you wish to punish me, do so when the blade at my neck is yours. I will not be humiliated. Not again.” you say through your teeth.

The Elves whisper around you.

Witch.

Traitor.

Morgoth’s servant.

Banish her.

Send her away.

You hear another whisper, so quick you almost miss it. Almost.

“Defiance does not suit you.” Gil-Galad states. He looks down at your hands, the dark fingertips as if dipped in black ash. The marks on your body, some symbols and some written in Black Speech. The sight disgusts him and for a moment he pities you and what you’ve endured for centuries. “You will fulfill your punishment in Eregion.”

You gawk at the High King as he makes his decree. “Eregion?”

He returns to his place by the Tree and the guards flank your sides, ready to take you away. “Be glad it’s not my blade at your throat. You will be confined in chains at all times, ones that will subdue your magic. Lord Celembrimbor will see to it. He makes them as we speak.”

Chained once again. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry, perhaps it’s best not to show any emotion while the others are looking. You let the guards take you away and you cast one last glance at Galadriel and Elrond. He meets your gaze finally and bows his head. You don’t know when you will see them again.

The guards chain you and tie your hands to the reins as the company gathers. You in the middle while four of them surround you. Most of the supplies for the journey were given to you, to weigh down your horse should you try to escape.

The road goes ever winding and after a few weeks of constant travel you reach the gates of Eregion. The Elves gather on their balconies, look through the arches to catch a glimpse at you.

The word has reached here as well.

You wonder why they take such interest in you but it is quickly dismissed. You dabbled in the dark arts, once made a mistake that scarred your path and were a prisoner of Morgoth, but you never served him faithfully, only to survive. The Elves had become paranoid.

The spell you cast was an accident, your companion was alive, received a wound in the process but survived.

Your curiosity however, you could never contain it and the darkness was alluring. It’s a shame to admit to it but it's a necessary truth.

However you don’t think yourself evil, yes you were quick to anger but who wouldn’t be after years of torture?

Celebrimbor stands in front of the gates with a man by his side, he holds a wooden box. When the guards help you come down from the horse you think of making a run for it but that would only prove your actions further.

Guilty and convicted.

One of the guards gives Celebrimbor a scroll, he reads through the letter from Gil-Galad with further instructions. He nods and twists the scroll back. He looks you up and down, your dress dirty at the hem, your wrists bound in shackles once again. You looked clean, no blood, no dirt, you never attacked the guards that accompanied you.

“Well then, I assume you never were to Eregion?” he asks out of pure curiosity.

“Once. Merely passing through.” you say and look around cautiously, Celebrimbor notices.

“Be at ease. You’re here in a form of punishment but I would like to see it as a form of shared work.”

You raise an eyebrow at his statement. “What will my duties be here?”

“You,” he starts and grabs the wooden box from the man beside him. When he opens it you notice two identical bracelets made of silver. “You will be an aid in my forge, however some… requirements must be fulfilled.” he explains and takes the bracelets. He steps closer and silently asks you to give you his hands. You do so hesitantly as you cling to your magic one last time.

He puts the bracelets on your wrists and tightens them ever so slightly, you would have to cut off your thumb if you wanted to free yourself and you did not want to witness that sight.

“This will hold your magic, you can still heal yourself and others should the need arise but until the High King gives a different command, they have to stay.” he taps them slightly and you think back to the way Sauron tapped your chains so often when coming up with another ways to seduce you into darkness.

He was persistent but you were glad you had someone to talk to, even if it was Morgoth’s right hand.

A shiver runs through you and your head whips back when you hear Black Speech in your ear. Celebrimbor looks the way your eyes fell but sees no one. “What is it?”

You shake your head and slowly turn to face him. “Nothing, I…“ you look back to where the sound came from. “…thought I heard something.”

The guards look at you as they mount their horses, ready to return to Lindon. One of them stays as he awaits a letter from Celebrimbor. He gives it to him, previously written since he knew you would not resist.

The Eregion guards take over and lead you to your chambers, as you settle and clean yourself up. You stand under a stream of water and look over at the bracelets, you try to tear them away, bent them out but the metal is sturdy. A perfect craftsmanship, you would expect nothing less from the grandson of Fëanor.

A knock comes at the door, the man that accompanied Celebrimbor at your arrival.

“If you’re finished I’ll take you to the forge.” he informs you and you follow him through the halls. You’ve put on a newer dress, the old one was the only piece of clothing you were left with on your journey to Eregion. The darker shade of blue fabric clung to your body and flew behind you with each step you took.

You visited Eregion briefly, a stop on your journey to Greenwood. You used to craft as well but never bore the talent such as Fëanor’s. You used magic to create whatever your heart desired, you used it when building your home in the north of Greenwood.

The woodwork became your craft rather than precious metals and as you enter the forge you begin to miss the comfort of your home.

The Elven smiths glance at you as you enter but continue with their work. Celebrimbor comes down from the gallery to show you around. “I believe you’ll come to enjoy it, I heard you once tried to create something as well.” he asks and you look down to the beaten ring you’ve made centuries ago. The black stone inside it broken but still held within the grasps of the uneven metal.

“A foolish attempt.”

He places a hand on your shoulder. “Not foolish. Perhaps with a bit more practice…” he says, leading you to a desk where a few jewelry pieces lay. Ring with green emerald, a necklace that shone like starlight, a golden bracelet with the most detailed design you’ve ever seen. Weapons laid there as well, shining metal in the dim light, handle wrapping around the blade. You stare in awe.

“Are you certain you have not bested Fëanor yet?” you ask genuinely but think that a bit of flattery on your end might help get out of your chains quicker.

Celebrimbor smiles and gestures to the forge. “Come, we have work to do.” and you follow.

You work for years under Celebrimbor, the Elven smiths have taken to converse with you even if at first they were avoiding you like a plague. With time you have learned to enjoy the craft, a slow process but it kept your life steady. No Morgoth, no torment, a temporary home.

The only pain you felt was the lack of magic in your life. You worked as a healer from time to time but it never compared to the dark arts. Your hands trembled at times as if trying to contain the power from bursting within you. And the visions didn’t help.

They came gradually, growing more persistent with each month of your stay in Eregion. A shadow, always the same and always cunning. It whispered into your ear, showed you the power you could possess. You almost gave in the first night it came.

But you felt it the most one day in the forge.

The same piercing pain you felt when you left Forodwaith. You hold to the table you’ve been working on, the saw and the pliers forgotten on it. The sound they made drew the attention of Mirdania.

“Are you alright?” she comes to your side as you claw at the fabric above your heart. You don’t hear her and shut your eyes as the ringing in your ears grows.

Celebrimbor hears the commotion and quickly comes to see the problem. When he sees you with your hands covering your ears his sight falls on the bracelets that subdue your magic. Could they have weakened?

But there’s nothing that would indicate that you used it.

Mirdania steps aside as Celebrimbor replaces her. His hands rest on your shoulders as you open your eyes. His voice is muffled as he calls your name.

“What’s happening?”

You shake your head, unable to answer and for a split second you see the same shadow behind him, it seems to be smiling.

Celebrimbor sees your frenzied eyes and tries to point where you’re looking at. The Elvensmiths gathered look helpless as no one knows how to help you.

The shadow vanishes as quickly as it came and the ringing in your ears stop. A drop of blood flows out of your nostril and you hear it as it falls to the ground. Your hand goes to your mouth and wipes away the blood, it’s then you notice your fingers. Where once they started to fade from the lack of dark magic, the mark showed up again.

Celebrimbor looks warily, the bracelets he forged would contain your power, he would know you used it even if done so unconsciously. The situation troubles him, the High King must be informed.

You grab him by his tunic as he stands up, the look on his face telling you his intention. “Don’t tell him, please. I didn’t use it, I swear.”

“How do you explain it then?” he points to your fingers curled around the fabric.

“It’s not my doing.”

“Then who’s?” he kneels down at your eye level.

You think over his question and dread the answer. You suggest Morgoth but would his influence still remain after all these years? You think of Sauron but you witnessed his death. Forodwaith is the only answer, centuries you spend there have left a mark, for you it’s the only explanation. You could not escape darkness even if you wanted to.

“He must be informed.” he leaves you with these words and you storm out of the forge. The guards close behind you as you run to the gardens and cover yourself underneath the shadow of a tree. It’s nearly dusk and you curse under your breath in every language you know. Black Speech makes its way on your tongue unconsciously and the guards tense up.

You stay there for a while until the cold wind beats against your skin. You look down at your hands and notice the black starting to fade once more, your head rests against your knees as you look ahead.

You close your eyes when you see it again, out of the corner of your eye but ever so watchful. It takes a form this time, not of a shadow but a man. You look away and his hand slithers under your chin to make you look up at him. When you do, you see perfectly green eyes and the stubble adoring his face, he looks at you so gently you nearly forget he’s the reason for your hauntings.

“Let it in.” he whispers. “A witch should practice her craft.”He returns to shadow and passes through you.

Your breath catches in your throat as you wake up in your bed. You look around and hold your head in your hands.

What is happening?