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And Comes Dawn pt v

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader, the love triangles will start showing up here soon

Word count: 2k

Tags/warnings: death mention, mention of miscarriages, angsty, but fluffy, Tolkien lore is mentioned some, reader do be yapping, sauron is unwell and a little obsessed,

Notes: I take some liberty with the elf occupation of the southlands in this one but it's my fanfic and if I wanted to have halbrand wear a pink frilly tutu I could. Keep the feedback coming please. I love all of you.

Series masterlist

You awoke to the soft rocking of the sea, a blanket thrown over your body, and the smell of soup. The smell alone almost made you moan as the emptiness in your stomach ached. The last thing you had remembered was the storm and now you were on a strange ship.

Where were you?

“She wakes,” a deep voice spoke next to you. It almost startled you, but seeing Halbrand and hearing his voice brought a sense of calm over you. He had shown that he had meant his words, that he would protect, but you were still unsure as to what motivated that in him. Surely it had to be something more than he thought you were a good person.

Without thinking, you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, relaxing into his body. It took a moment, but his strong arms wrapped around you, and he placed a kiss to your hair, “I got you, sweet one,” he whispered softly, resting his chin on your head.

After a moment, you pulled away and looked up at him, “Where are we?”

He looked into your eyes, smiling softly, “A ship captain saw us and rescued us. Looks as if your whole hope thing isn't useless after all.”

You smiled, “Of course it's not. Hope never is.”

This time, it was him that pulled you in for a hug, all but pulling you into his lap. “I swear, sweet one, never scare me like that again. I thought I lost you,” he whispered into your hair.

You didn't make any movements to separate from him, enjoying the feeling. “Is that soup I smell?”

Halbrand laughed softly, pulling away and holding your face in his hands, “You ruined the sentimental moment.”

“Halbrand, I have been stranded at sea for a week, and while I do enjoy you, I am quite hungry.”

He smiles but shakes his head, “I'll go get you a bowl.”

As he leaves to do that, you take in your surroundings. It's a sturdy ship, not like the one you'd left on. It was well kept and clean, and the wood seemed to be of high quality. Your eyes examined the room until they landed on the elf, who was still either unconscious or asleep. Her words to you repeated in your head. She'd revealed your past to Halbrand. It seemed maybe as if he didn't care or notice, but it mattered to you.

You heard his footsteps on the stairs, and you quickly looked away, taking the warm bowl of soup in your hands. “Thank you,” you managed to speak before you started slurping down the liquid. It felt amazing to fill your stomach again. To eat something warm, that wasn't stale bread and dry meat. You had moaned softly the minute it moved down your throat.

Halbrand watched you until you were done, it looked as if he was thinking of something. You put the bowl aside and sat quietly for a moment before he spoke.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

You didn't need him to specify. You knew of what he spoke. You sighed softly and looked at him for a moment. He was leaning forward with his arms resting on his knees and hands clasped together. He looked concerned and curious as he watched you.

“I didn't want you to think differently of me,” you said softly.

“You were not the one who committed the crime. I told you, I've done horrid things. I chose to do those things. You did not choose to have an evil father.”

“That's the other reason why I don't talk about it,” you spoke softly. “He wasn't always that way. He was a good man, and so was my brother and my uncle. They were all good men. They were all hard workers. We had a farm, and they all tended to it from dawn until dusk. And when Papa would come home, no matter how tired he was, he would sweep me into his arms and dance with me around the room. My uncle would put me atop his shoulders and take me with him to town or to pick apples. My brother had the most awful jokes. He'd sneak me seconds of the cake, and he'd teach me how to use a bow. They were not evil, and I hate to talk about them as if they were. As if they were born that way.”

Halbrand wet his lips, “But something must have happened for them to murder an entire village of elves.”

You nodded, looking at your hands as you fought back tears. “My mama was good. She was so good and kind. She had a garden, and she grew herbs that helped people sleep or cleaned minor wounds. She was helpful. Everyone loved her, and my father adored her. She got sick one winter and the medicine she needed was expensive. Everyone worked so hard to save up enough for it, but in the end, we didn't have enough,” You wet your lips with your tongue. “She died. It was…it was awful. She was in pain and didn't go with peace. Father was distraught. Not only had he lost mother, but she had been with child. They had always had trouble with having children. My brother was several years older, and many miscarriages and lost babes were between us. The baby was almost to term.” You shook your head, wiping the few tears that slipped out away.

“I'm so sorry, but what does that have to do with elves? With Sauron?” Halbrand spoke, his hand moving to rest on your knee in a form of comfort.

“Father blamed the elves for mothers' death. I do not know how it is with other villages in the southlands, but for ours we had to give tithes of crops or money to the elves as a form of repentance for our ancestors' allegiance with evil,” you spoke with a hint of annoyance. “A reminder of what we did. Father was forced to give the money that he had saved to the elves. He begged for help for medicine, and it was denied. It changed him. It broke him. My grandfather believed that Sauron would return and bring with him the legacy that was long lost from our people. Father had dismissed that belief, but after mother died, he believed that Sauron would be more benevolent than the elves. That he would be a better leader. All that was needed was a massive blood sacrifice. He radicalized my uncle, my brother. My house went from being filled with love and light to being filled with darkness, with plots for murder. With stories of long ago and Morgoth and Sauron and giant spiders and dragons.”

“That's why you believe that evil is thrust upon people, isn't it?” Halbrand spoke softly.

You nodded. “The grief would destroy me if I believed there was no good in my family.”

Halbrand sat in silence. “And what of a being like Sauron? Do you think he's able to be forgiven? To be good?”

You pressed your tongue into your teeth and furrowed your brow. “I do not know, but I also do not think it is my place to make that decision. It is not my place to forgive my own family for what they did. What they did was horrendous. It was not excusable. I do not want to lessen the severity of their crimes, nor do I think that their punishment was unjust. I do not think it serves anyone well, though, to think that they were evil all along. To think they were without human emotions. Despite the evil they have done, I still love my family.”

You inhaled a deep breath, looking up at him, “I think for him, for Sauron, it could be the same. I do not know much about what created us, but I know that what created me also created him. In that case, he is capable of all the things I am. Love, kindness, empathy. That has to all be there, the good that he hasn't chosen. Perhaps he even has a family who still loves him. But it is not my place to decide if he is forgiven. I am not the one to redeem him.”

~

He sat with his head resting against a beem of wood. Not long after you ate, you'd fallen back asleep. His fingers were lazily running through your hair as he stared at a particular piece of wood.

He was getting more answers to who you were, but the answers he got asked questions themselves. How did you suffer so much and yet still hope? How did you hold such light inside you as well as such grief?

He'd been so full of himself when he learned of your family. To learn, there were those who still waited for him, who would kill for him. It satisfied his ego and fueled his arrogance. It was hard to resist smirking, smugly laughing to himself, or making a comment.

It didn't last long. In his interrogation of you, he asked too many questions and got answers he didn't bargain for. His questions now weren't so much about you, but about him. About his wants, his goals, and his motivations. Instead of asking who you were, your answers made him ask who he was.

He is capable of all the things I am.

…The good he hasn't chosen.

A family who still loves him.

The last one was the worst. Did he have a family who loved him still? Would he ever be able to return to his home? Would he be able to work inside Aulës's workshop? Would his former master have missed him? Would he hear the song of creation once more?

Did he want any of that?

Or did he still want power? Control? To bring peace and order through domination? The temptation was still there. The darkness was ever present inside of him, but perhaps there was some light left.

His eyes drifted to you, picking up a few strands of your hair and then watching them fall back over your face. Part of him still wanted you dead. He wanted you gone. It had been little over a week, and yet it had felt like a lifetime. You were challenging him in ways that he did not want. You were, somehow, single handedly, causing him to second guess everything he knew. That alone was reason enough for him to slit your throat.

Then there was the lust. He'd never lusted after anyone like this. The fact that you were a human felt like an insult. The reactions his body had to you were too human for his liking. He wanted control, but with you, he had none. It was surprising that he hadn't claimed you already. You were his, after all. And that was another reason for him to dispose of you.

There was the stirring deep inside him, the warm feeling that he sometimes could feel spreading. Sometimes, it spilled out of him without even knowing. He dared not name it. He did his best not to feel it. He'd know you little more than a week, and yet it was there, taunting him always at the edge of his mind. That was the biggest reason he wanted you gone. That feeling, he didn't want it, especially not for you. A mere mortal should not make him feel this way.

There were so many times he had raised a blade or had his hands wrapped around your throat, and just before he was about to make the move that would free him from you….

Your eyes, bright and happy, looking up at him.

The crinkles next to your eyes when you smile.

The softness of your skin against his.

The sound of your laugh.

The smell of your hair.

You.

He growled, sending a table flying and sending his fist through the wood of the pillar. He breathed heavily, forehead resting against the splintered wood as he heard you stir in your sleep. His eyes closed. He hated the chaos inside of him.

He hated everything.

He especially hated that he couldn't hate you.

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