Author's Note: I this pile of drivel was inspired by…an interesting question asked at the end of a story summary?
Basically the premise of this thingy, is as follows: Sauron's *grinds teeth* daughter *breaks teeth* falls in love with a person she's supposed to kill… so now all I need is to decide upon a lucky single/untied man Sauron hates in the Third Age for our lovely lass to fall for…mmm? Gimli? Legolas? Sarumon? Grima? Eormer? Frodo? Elladan? Elrohir? Glorfindel? Gandalf? Mmmm? I got it!
Disclaimer: I'm writing trashy clichés. Please revoke my fanfiction license.
Sauron's Daughter
Darkness- a blinding choking miasma of fiery ire and moiling rage made the girl's skin ooze sweat and pucker in goose bumps at the same time. It pressed upon the cowering pair, like a glacier, falling slowly, slower, slower still upon them, crushing and shattering them infinitesimally. Piece by tiny piece.
Her breath splintered in the oppressive black silence, and her gold eyes, like coins imbued with the light of life flicked to her petrified, trembling companion. "I'll protect you. I'll protect you!" She hissed, she pled, squeezing Sarumon's quaking shoulder, hoping that the fervour in her words might make it so, might at the very least ease his fears, even if the lie rang hollow to her own.
The wizard ignored her. Stripped of his pride, his sanctuary, his ambition- he cowered before a might he had not the ability to contend with. Her heart went out to him, and futile though it was, she loved him more in that moment than she ever had.
"This is all my fault-if I hadn't-If-" If only things had been different. "Sarumon? Curumo? Listen! Please! You might make it out! Please! Please look at me!" She begged, reaching to squeeze his slender, pale, shaking hand instead.
Anymore she would have said, was dashed by fire, by pain. The Eye! She screamed as the full brunt of its incandescent fury exploded in waves of heat and fire; an inferno in the mind that scalded flesh, blistered bones, crushed, tore, and with ruthless ease pulverized all defense she had. She writhed, hopeless and helpless. Vain desperate pleas shrill and incoherent rent unintelligible burned the back of her throat. She writhed and screamed and seized until the Dark Lord saw fit to callously flick his attention from her.
Panting, crying, and drooling she came too, battered mind and battered flesh freed for the moment, from pain and horror.
"What does it speak to, when my own daughter takes up a miscreant and traitor? To what failure as a parent is such a treachery owed?"
Coughing, she struggled to rally, to think, to articulate, to answer, to give reason. Shaking and swaying she tottered into an approximate position of genuflection, showing obeisance, as any servant of the Dark Lord would.
"My Lord, everything that has happened here…" She licked her lips tasting iron on her tongue. "All of this is my fault. I make no excuses. I neither attempt to hide my actions nor failures to act. I came here, commanded by you, to see a traitor dealt with, and I did not. I became emotionally entangled with an enemy; a powerful one as well, and I offer no deceptions. It is exactly as you see it. I love him. I know not from where, nor when, nor how, only that I do, without greed, without doubt, without jealousy, or pride. This was not, and never was intended to hurt you, and my Lord I am sorry it has come to this- that I couldn't be stronger or more guarded with my heart."
Her forehead touched the floor, golden tresses pooling like liquid fire around her. "I ask you not for clemency, nor forgiveness, nor mercy. All I wish is for you to understand that fault lies solely with me. Not him."
The Dark Lord, silhouette darker than the blackness about himself, and crowned in terrible might, stared down at her, in maddened, painful, fury. His voice, when at last he spoke, was made of blackest ice and softer than finest silk, utterly, nauseatingly, chillingly terrifying.
"Mercy, for him? I cannot. Through me you're half Ainu, and in binding yourself to him you'll share in his torment as he shares in yours."
Fell and great he loomed over his daughter-no-his-not even his- wretched slave wearing the face of his beautiful daughter. His hand clenched into a shaking fists.
"You," he rounded on the Fallen Istar, eyes glittering with rage, and burning like molten fire. "You failed to claim my ring, so you conspired to claim my daughter." He snorted derisively as if the notion amused him. "I hope she's worth it. I hope you're worth each other's company."
Languidly he flounced to the wizard, blithe and cool. He smirked down at the cowering Maia guised as a withered bearded old man, who would have taken his ring, his power, his country, his freedom, and his life, but had in the end, only succeeded in stealing his daughter. He supposed it was a small loss, and yet the girl had been his. Her love, her fealty, her devotion: all should have been his. He was her father. He was her lord. And to see her thusly; weeping and suffering, incapable of understanding how much longer she'd weep or suffer, hurt him, and it only angered him all the more, that he should feel guilty administering justifiable punishment. It was enraging; pointing to a weakness he did not care to have. But she would suffer, and suffer mightily, as few of their kind had.
Sickened and unwilling to let the wizard his steal his attention, he made to turn only to pause a second later.
Giving into vindictive pained fury his foot shot out, colliding heavily with the wizard's chest, and something noisily cracked. The wizard fell awkwardly and heavily moaning, and where she knelt trembling and terrified; Sauron's disgraced daughter sobbed. "Father please-!"
"I am not your father!" A mirage of wavering heat encircled the Dark Lord's cloaked and mantled form. Into his words he poured angered black puissance sharper than any knife. "And you are not my daughter!" With spiteful satisfaction he watched her balk at his venomous words, and with grim mirth he watched her begin to break.
Choking and feeling like she'd been gutted, Sauron's daughter, sobbed. She cinched her arms around her middle, in an attempt to hold herself together. And through thick tears and hiccoughing gasps of fear she felt him approach once more.
Step by languid graceful step, he returned to tower over her, and brokenly she cried at his feet.
He crouched before her, and she reeled back, but deftly he caught her, and with cruel gentleness pulled her close. Shaking with the force of her cries she went as still as possible letting herself be held, terrified of defying him anymore.
"The sun to Mordor's night." His hands were shockingly gentle as they cupped her face and tilted her gaze upward. She shuddered and whimpered in his grasp. "Mordor's golden flower." His thumb dragged across her wet cheek smearing tears toward her ear. "Why?"What sounded like genuine hurt stole the ire from the Dark Lord's voice. "Why did you make me come here? Why did you make me do this?"
Tears, whimpers, and bleating unintelligible pleas were his answer.
"Oh, Little One," he sighed, gently cradling her head against his chest. "Please understand it gives me no pleasure, what is to happen here. But punishments must be meted as they are due. Or-" he ran his fingers through her soft golden waves of hair- "perhaps this will be all that is required to teach you the value of obedience?" His hand fell from her hair. The other remained cupped under her chin resolutely but softly keeping her cheek pinioned to his breast.
"I will fix his," he whispered against her hair.
She didn't see his hand, blinded by tears as she was. She couldn't even guess at what he intended, and perhaps it was better that she had not. The pain stripped her of a voice to scream with, and much, much more.
Author's note: So, there you have it: a clichéd, Sauron's daughter falls in love with an enemy fic-lette, because that dead horse hasn't been beaten enough. Yup.