Crowned With Flowers: 53. Revenge

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53. Revenge

"Your eyes are looking much better," Sauron commented as the Witch-King walked into his study and sat down across from him. "I don't know what the fools were talking about."
"Perhaps your eyes are the ones that are failing, my apprentice."
Sauron started and stared at the man who looked just like Morion, but clearly wasn't. "Melkor?" he whispered.
"Lord Melkor to you, you miserable wretch."
"H-how did this happen?"
"Very simply. Morion's emotions got all tangled up, his mind wavered, and I took advantage of the moment to hurl him out of his body and take over myself. The gray land is very boring compared to Arda. It has been far, far too long since I walked the earth."
"This is perhaps not the best time," Sauron said. "Things are being set in motion that a power struggle between the two of us could ruin. You do want the One Ring, don't you?"
"As much – perhaps even more – than you do."
"Then why would you risk it all?"
Melkor held up his hand. The ring sparkled there. "There is very little I can do when I wear this, and the One is not in my hand."
Sauron smiled slowly. "You wear one of the Nine."
"Indeed."
"You know that if I wished, I could manipulate my Nazgul like puppets."
"You would find considerable difficulty with some. Which is why, I suspect, you don't do it."
Sauron focused on the ring on his former master's hand. Melkor frowned, but he obeyed Sauron's telepathic command and stood up.
"The first Dark Lord finds himself enslaved to the second," Sauron whispered, a thrill of excitement in his voice.
Melkor sighed. "You are going to waste precious time debasing me while you could be out searching for the Ring?"
"It is what you would do in my place."
"You're right there," Melkor muttered.
Sauron led the way into the bedchamber he used when staying at Minas Morgul. Melkor followed, not led by the command of the ring, but of his own will. This was going to be humiliating enough without being led around like a dog by his apprentice.
"You cannot imagine how long I've waited for this," Sauron whispered, removing his master's clothing. "Ever since you first took me in Angband…"
Melkor smiled at the memory. "You screamed too much," he said. He reached out and ran a hand through Sauron's hair. "You are as fair as you ever were. Which only goes to show you are still as vain."
"Speaking of vanity." Sauron pressed a hand on Melkor's chest. The first Dark Lord gasped in shock as ice ran through his veins. When the sensation faded, he found himself in his old body. It was not much different from Morion's.
"How kind of you," he sneered. "If I still had the little slave's body, you would get far less pleasure than with my own. How wonderful for you! How splendid! To have your old master, teacher, tormenter as a slave."
"You are perceptive," Sauron said, pushing Melkor onto the bed. "It is a shame that perception came only after you lost the war."
Melkor growled and briefly struggled before surrendering to the ring's power. What was the point of further embarrassing himself?
"Here you are," he whispered, "Sauron the Great, king of Mordor, the Lord of the Rings. Here you are, planning a war, rallying armies, allocating rations. Such mundane work for a king."
"It must be done."
"Oh, it must indeed. You learned that from me, for I had you do that work. And you are also doing my work, planning the war, making allies, betraying those same allies."
"Your point? Your voice is beginning to grate on me."
"While you run the war, while your orcs fight it, the Nazgul must search for the Ring. If the Ring is lost, you must win on strength of arms. If the Ring is found by your enemies, they could topple you. And if you find the Ring, you will win. The Ring decides everything."
"You are correct, and the Nazgul will search for it. And they will find it for me."
"Ah, but I am one of the Nazgul now, am I not? The greatest and most powerful. And if I find the Ring, be warned, so-called Lord Sauron, I will overthrow you and conquer Arda. I will exact a terrible revenge for this."
"But you will not find the Ring," Sauron whispered. "I will. And you will be mine forever."
"I will cut out your liver and eat it before your very eyes. I will –"
Sauron laughed and pressed a finger to Melkor's lips. "Silence," he said. 
Much to the first Dark Lord's fury, when he opened his mouth, no sounds came out. He contented himself with baring his fangs.
"How long I have waited for this," Sauron murmured, twining his fingers in Melkor's silky hair.
*
"My lord?" The young Maia bowed before his king. The Dark Lord, the fallen Vala, the King of Arda, was standing near a desk, glancing over some papers. He was dressed in a black silk dressing gown, which exposed much of his ivory chest. 
"Ah, Sauron," Melkor whispered, walking over to where his spy stood.
A twinge of fear ran through the Maia's body, who ignored it. His master was powerful, and he should be afraid of him. But to let that fear show… Melkor disliked cowardice.
"You called for me, my lord."
"So I did." The Dark Lord was close to Sauron now. The Maia wanted to take a step back. Every instinct screamed for him to run. He didn't.
Melkor's finger traced Sauron's face, running lightly over the flesh. Sauron wanted to flinch away from the touch, but he gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw. Melkor's finger lingered on the hardened muscle.
"Scared?" he asked.
"No, my lord."
"You picked a fair form. I am…curious as to the reasons why."
"I find this form pleasing, my lord."
"Why? You could have been a hulking warrior, a walking wall. A fierce monster with talons and razor teeth."
"I can be many things, my lord. I am a shapeshifter."
"Yet you spend much of your time as this, or a wolf."
"People…"
"Yes?"
"People say more things to a fair man than to a foul one."
Melkor chuckled. "And yet you have a heart as foul as a cesspit. I expect you learn many things, yes? A finer spy I have never had. And neither a fairer one…" The long fingers began to remove Sauron's clothing.
"My lord…"
"Did you not come to Angband for power? I can give you that as my apprentice, not my spy. Why should a Maia of your caliber be forced to skulk and hide in woods, listening for some scrap of news? There are orcs to do that work."
"My lord…"
"Do you accept?"
"Yes, my lord," Sauron whispered. "I have a question though."
Melkor smiled. "Ask it."
"You have a fair form as well, my lord. Why did you pick it?"
"People tell me things," Melkor whispered. "People believe my lies. Beauty hides deception. Never forget that, my apprentice. People will never believe an ugly man, but they will follow a beautiful man to the slaughterhouse."
"You are beautiful, my lord." 
Melkor smiled and watched appreciatively as Sauron removed the rest of his clothes and began to untie the sash on Melkor's dressing gown. 
"You are so careful, my apprentice," Melkor purred. "So gentle, so tender."
Sauron looked up at him. His eyes were soft and full of love.
Melkor's lip curled into a sneer. "You love me?" he asked.
"Yes, my lord."
"You would die for me?"
"Yes, my lord! In an instant!"
He'd been intending to toy with the Maia. He was far more attractive than the balrogs, after all, and much less surly. Melkor had expected the Maia to accept his attentions and think nothing of them. Not this love business. Not this weak, pathetic love.
A single strike from his hand sent Sauron tumbling to the ground. He lay there stunned for a moment before looking up, hurt and betrayal in his eyes.
"My lord?" he whispered.
Snarling, Melkor seized Sauron by the hair and threw him on the bed. "Love," he spat. "That is not a worthy emotion for my apprentice!"
Terror taking over, Sauron cowered on the bed. "Please, my lord," he whimpered. "Please don't hurt me."
"Hurt you? I'm going to do worse than that." Pinning his apprentice's wrists in a vice-like grip above his head, Melkor shoved the shaking legs apart. "Didn't you want this?" he asked as Sauron trembled and shivered.
"N-no, my lord. Not like t-this."
"Coward," Melkor sneered, thrusting into the tense body.
Sauron shrieked and writhed like a man stabbed.
"Coward! You miserable coward! And you think you're worthy enough to be my apprentice?"
"M-my lord! Please! Stop!"
The screams were beginning to wear on Melkor's nerves. Screaming was for the torture chamber, not the bedchamber. 
"Shut up," the Dark Lord snarled, striking Sauron across the face until the Maia finally stopped screaming. He stopped moving as well, and Melkor wondered if he'd broken his neck. No harm done if he had. It'd heal up soon enough.
Sauron moaned a bit and twitched. He didn't scream again until Melkor rolled off of him. 
"Do you know your place?" Melkor hissed in his ear. He was amused to see tears in the corners of Sauron's eyes. 
"Y-yes, my lord," Sauron whispered.
"There is no room for love there."
*
"Cruel bastard," Sauron spat, glaring at Melkor with pure hate in his eyes. Not a trace of love there. Not even a trace. 
Melkor grinned. He'd done his work well. 
"It is your turn now," Sauron hissed.
Melkor smiled. He'd be hearing those screams again.
Surprisingly, Sauron did not scream. He sucked in his breath and then gasped, but he did not scream.
"I am a Vala," Melkor said, the silence spell broken by Sauron's pain. "You are always forgetting that."
"So…hot!"
"I am made of the stuff of the stars. Did you think I would be as cold as my heart?"
Sauron gritted his teeth but continued.
"I was wrong, all those years ago," Melkor said with a laugh. "You are no coward. All this pain, just to humiliate me." He shifted under the Maia. "Well, I suppose the least I can do is writhe like a bitch." He moaned softly and pulled Sauron closer to him, his tongue darting out to lick Sauron's eyes. "Tears."
"Shut. Up," Sauron gasped. 
Time seemed to stand still for a moment as they both gasped in ecstasy. Sauron pulled away then, gasping.
"Bravery deserves a fine reward," Melkor whispered, his fingers tracing designs on Sauron's chest, glistening with sweat. "My mouth is much less hot, I assure you."
Sauron nodded and collapsed on the bed. 
"I win again," Melkor murmured to himself as he ducked between his apprentice's legs.
*
"Hey, Sauron!"
"Go away, Aica," Sauron muttered the next morning. He felt like he'd been dropped in Mt. Doom.
"Just a bit of news, if you're interested."
"I'm not."
Aica opened the door and glanced inside, snickering when she saw Melkor. She didn't recognize him as Melkor, nor as her former superior, but she found it amusing nonetheless. 
"I said go away," Sauron growled.
"Khamul's gone."
"What? Again?"
"She said she was going north."
"North? What for?"
"No idea."


This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Barazinbar

Status: General

Completion: Complete

Era: 3rd Age - The Stewards

Genre: General

Rating: General

Last Updated: 07/27/12

Original Post: 08/20/11

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