A/N: So this is rated M, but I doubt I'll write any explicit slash. This will have a number of yaoi relationships though, as well as het, just as a warning. Also, I haven't finished this story, and although I know generally where I want it to go, I don't know how far I'll take it. I have a lot more written that just needs editing though, so please stick with it!
Also, please keep an open mind about Mordor and Sauron, I know it's totally AU, but it makes it more interesting this way. Tolkien's only weakness is his division of Middle Earth into good and evil; this is an attempt to erase those lines. So please just go with it! If something doesn't make sense, don't hesitate to ask!
Lastly, the idea for this story was originally inspired by catwjl's The Dark Lord's Consort. Excellent story, but the sequel isn't finished, and I really wanted to write the end of it and put my own spin on it.
P.S. - THIS IS THE FINAL, BETAED CHAPTER! Courtesy of my lovely friend Writethesun :))
Chapter 1: Novelties
The wind howled, the snow fell, and the lights of Bree were nowhere to be seen. Aragorn momentarily accepted a cease-fire with the unrelenting storm and collapsed against a tree. In this weather he couldn't be sure of anything, but he knew he could not still be south of the town. He had left the Angle three weeks ago to gather information concerning the Shire; rumors had reached the DĂșnedain that orcs had multiplied in the Northern Marches, even raiding the occasional settlement. With a growl of frustration, Aragorn searched the grey skies for any sign of the Sun. It was futile. He could barely keep his eyes open long enough to look before they closed instinctually to protect against the snow. The wind howled louder, making the ranger shiver and hug himself for warmth. A cozy tent and a warm fire looked very appealing. The snow lay thin beneath a copse of pine trees across from him; he could wait out the storm there. Carefully, Aragorn weighed his options. If he resumed his efforts to find Bree today, he would risk becoming completely lost. However, stopping now would delay potentially vital information. Gandalf had mentioned to him a month and a half ago that he believed great importance rested with the Shire and its simple inhabitants, or at least importance that exaggerated their previous involvement in the affairs of Middle Earth.
The howling wind picked up as he deliberated, and Aragorn unconsciously stepped toward the copse and set his pack down. He was exhausted. Now somewhat protected from the wind, Aragorn straightened up, his senses suddenly heightened. The howling was just as distinct as it had been a moment ago, and it was quickly getting louder. In desperation he strained his ears, trying to discover where the sound was coming from, so he could run the other way, but to no avail. The soft rumbling of many feet reached his ears. Aragorn began to panic; he had no chance of defending himself against wolves in the snow, especially if orcs were the bonus attraction. As a last resort, he flung himself up a nearby tree. The pine's evergreen needles would hide him if the orcs just meant to pass by, and if not he would have a better vantage point for his arrows. If he could kill off the wolves from the tree before the orcs reached him, he just might stand a chance.
As the wolves approached Aragorn's would-be campsite, he notched his bow and settled himself against the trunk of the tree. He could see his enemy now through the trees, but it was a difficult shot. Aragorn hesitated. There still could be a chance they were only out hunting, and would miss him. With a jolt of surprise, he realized, he wasn't looking at a motley assortment of orcs, but men. They were moving steadily closer, the wolves sniffing out his trail. Aragorn hesitated breathlessly, arrow quivering with tension. In a flurry of excitement and snow a dog caught his scent; voices rose louder in a crescendo of anticipation faster and faster toward him and without thinking Aragorn released the arrow, piercing the shoulder of one of the men. Quickly he notched another, and managed to hit one more before they ducked behind the trees. A moment passed. Notched arrows poked their way around trunks to his left; they missed him but offered no targets. Another volley immediately followed, and another; ducking and weaving Aragorn secured himself behind the thick central arm of the tree, only to come face to face with an arrow from the other side that blew his bow straight out of his hands. He had only a second to wonder at the strangeness of this before he catapulted himself to the ground and drew his sword.
Gruff voices and rough hands dragged Aragorn painfully into consciousness, and he quickly wished they hadn't. He tasted blood in his mouth and tried moving his tongue, but found it to be extraordinarily heavy. He lifted his eyelids slightly and immediately groaned in pain, attracting the attention of his captors. Aragorn heard footsteps approaching him and tried again to open his eyes, this time with moderate success.
"Arre you well, rranger?" the man asked, in a heavy Haradrian accent. His voice rolled richly from deep within his chest, sinking fully in the r's and lighting on the l's with the tip of this tongue. Aragorn didn't answer; he was desperately trying to piece together what had happened. He had been captured by the men near Bree, of that much he was certain. But it was far too warm for him to be north of Gondor, and now someone was asking him if he felt all right. As his eyes adjusted to the light, Aragorn took in the brownish land around him, the empty trees, a campfire surrounded by men in a protected hollow, and his questioner standing before him, wearing the symbol of the Eye of Sauron on his collar.
"Rranger? Have you no voice? I do not believe you have nothing to say, my frriends tell me yourr tongue has not been silent in two weeks."
What? Aragorn stopped his thinking in his tracks. Two weeks? There was no way he'd been unconscious that long. There was no way he'd been speaking, either. At his wit's end, Aragorn voiced his concerns to his captor.
"What?" he asked.
"But of courrse you do not remember. I apologize. We drrugged you, to ease in trransport." The man above him gave a small smile at the look of utter confusion on Aragorn's face.
"Why don't I remember you drugging me? How long have we been traveling? Where am I?" The questions flowed unchecked; he had never felt so disoriented in his life.
"It is the drrug, I do not know. You have been trraveling forr a forrtnight and five days. They took you arround Emyn Muil and the Marrshes, and now you arre a day's jourrney from Morrodor's southerrn gate," he said, not without candor.
"I'm going to Mordor?" Aragorn asked. His mouth went dry with fear. If there was one place he didn't want to be, it was Mordor.
"Yes, Lord Sauron asked for you specifically. He was verry, uhh, how do you say? He would not allow unknowns, he made extrreme details . . ." the man trailed off, looking down at Aragorn for input.
"Uptight?" Aragorn said hesitantly.
"Yes! He was verry uptight about yourr capture."
"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked. He had never heard Sauron described in that way, as if he had human characteristics, let alone ones like 'uptight'.
"I do not know, he would not tell me why he wanted you. But he would not have his mind changed," the man said.
Aragorn rubbed his eyes worriedly with his bound hands and looked off into the woods. This was bad. Worse than the time he'd been trapped under the ice of a small pond while Legolas fought off an army of orcs above him. In fact, this might actually be the worst situation he had ever been in. His captor knelt down beside him, brow furrowed at Aragorn's obvious distress.
"Do you know why he wants you?" he asked. Aragorn looked at him calculatingly.
"Who are you?" he asked in return, not yet ready to divulge his heritage to a stranger.
"My name is Kadiin. I am Saurron's Interrnal Affairrs Ministerr. Although I do not know why this job is interrnal affairrs," Kadin said with a laugh, sitting down beside Aragorn with a small smirk.
"Sauron has ministers?" he asked, incredulous.
"Of courrse. One man can't rrun an whole countrry," he said, laughter bubbling again from deep in his chest. Aragorn felt himself blush at the subtle scorn in the man's voice.
"Well, what is there to run?" Aragorn said, a little defensively. Kadin looked at him curiously.
"What exactly do yourr people believe about my countrry? We have a rregular human population and rroads, and laws like any other land. How do you do things in the Norrth?"
Aragorn stared. He couldn't believe what he was hearing; nothing made sense. First of all, he couldn't believe he was having a civil conversation with Mordor's Internal Affairs Minister. No, first of all, he couldn't believe Mordor had an Internal Affairs Minister.
"Rranger?"
Aragorn shook is head in wonder. "Well, Kadin, I think this is going to be a very enlightening experience for me, although I highly doubt I'll survive it."
"You think he wants to kill you?" Kadin asked, with surprise.
"What else would he want of me? I am his sworn enemy; to destroy him is my birthright. I have a lot of information too, that's probably why he wanted me brought all the way here," Aragorn said with a rather obvious hint of despair. Kadin stared at him, then sighed.
"I do not think that is why he wants you," he whispered before standing up and walking back to the campfire, leaving a dumbfounded Ranger is his wake.
As night fell, Kadin again approached Aragorn, leaving him with a gritty meal and a water-skin, but no explanation. Once again he wondered what his captor had meant, and what Sauron could possibly want with him, if not torture and death. It was an endlessly futile circle. In frustration he turned to the food. Realizing he hadn't been given a spoon, Aragorn looked up, surprised to see the men sucking the meal straight from their bowls. Hesitantly, he mimicked their motions. It had little taste in and of itself, but the bits of dried fruit mixed in made it mildly sweet. In wonder, Aragorn tried to identify what he was eating. The berries he had seen before, although rarely, but the vast majority he didn't think he had ever tasted. He savored them piece-by-piece, enjoying the novelty of their flavor. As he ate, realizing the course of his life was about to be radically altered, he pictured himself as a child in the gardens of Imladris, staring up at soft, enduring glow of Elendil just as he was now. A cool breeze lifted his hair and was gone like the whisper of a passing thought.
A/N: Please Review! I'd really appreciate any criticism or comments :D
