Author: MarieAmethyst
Title: Surrender to the Darkness
Rating: R
Chapter: Two, Audience
Author's Notes: What can I say? No one else was writing Aragorn/Sauron slash, so I came up with this. Surrender is based off a lot of my own ideas, and how I view Lord of the Rings. To me Sauron isn't some big flaming eye, and the Nazgul aren't a bunch of almost dead guys running around mindlessly trying to find the One Ring. If you can't deal with that, then this isn't a fic for you. (*grin* Or anyone else, for that matter.) I've toyed with a couple ideas as to how to develop this, but for the most part I'm just writing as it comes to me. If you have any ideas/suggestions, please let me know! I'd be forever grateful. ^_^

I've went back and re-written the chapters a little, adding more and correcting mistakes, that sort of thing. The biggest change is to the character Gwen, in chapter six. Before I had planned on writing a back story to Surrender called Pieces of My Heart, but since that has gotten nowhere, I edited Gwen so she fits more readily in the fic until I can get Pieces written.

If you're having trouble picturing Sauron as something other than a big flaming eyeball, think of Armand from Interview With the Vampire. But with longer hair. ^_~

UPDATE 12/31/08: Since so many of you have begged nicely and tracked me down all over the 'Net to ask me if I was ever going to finish it, I have decided to continue Surrender! …Of course I have no idea how I am going to do this, so it should be interesting. :D First off is an overhaul of the story, especially Aragorn's character; he kind of bothers me now. So be looking for updates in 2009. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews/e-mails/comments (I was even mentioned in an article on Aestheticism, lol)! This is for you guys. :)

-*-*-*-

You can't abandon me
You belong to me

Breathe in and take my life in you
No longer myself only you
There's no escaping me, my love
Surrender

-*-*-*-

"For nothing is evil in the beginning. Even Sauron was not so."

~Elrond during the Council of Elrond, FotR~

~*~

Aragorn was jerked back to consciousness when the door of his cell was thrown open. In the doorway stood two leering orcs. They walked over to him, and he stared up into their hideous faces defiantly. If this was how he was to die, he would face it bravely.

But they merely unlocked the chains that bound him to the wall. One motioned for him to stand, and growled something in its guttural language. Aragorn managed to get his feet underneath him, but when he tried to stand they gave way. The orcs cursed foully, then reached down and jerked him up. Supporting him on both sides, they strode out the door and into the dark hallway beyond.

~*~

Sputtering torches were placed along the walls randomly, providing the barest of lights to see by. Judging from what he could tell though, Aragorn didn't mind that much. He kept his eyes resolutely straight ahead, and tried to block out the sights around him. Silently he prepared himself for what was to come, and was determined to keep his honor at all costs.

All too soon his escorts stopped before two wide doors, inscribed with runes of power. Evil was present, and radiated from the room beyond the doors. Aragorn paused instinctively, giving the doors a wary glance. The orcs grunted and pulled him forward roughly. The guards standing at the doors pushed them open, and Aragorn stumbled in.

The room was huge, black from the walls to the floor beneath his feet. A variety of warriors stood about the room, casting him unfriendly glances while toying with their weapons. A stench filled his nostrils of unwashed bodies and other things he did not wish to dwell on. The two orcs on either side continued to steer him further into the room, until he reached the middle. After that they quickly turned and all but ran away. Confusion wrinkled his brow as he was suddenly left alone, and an eerie silence prevailed in the room. Then the man stepped forward out of the shadow.

Tall he was, and cloaked in black. His dark eyes flashed from a pale face with an unreadable expression, and a small smile played about his lips. Giving Aragorn a slight bow, he said, "My lord, we are pleased that you could join us."

His eyes went wide, but he quickly covered his surprise. But not before the man before him noticed. Pursing his lips, Aragorn refused to say a word, and stared at a point behind the man's dark-clad shoulder. Better not to fall into the trap until he knew what it was.

Grinning broadly, the man clapped, as if in good humor. He took a step closer to the Dunadain, as if to measure him. "Truly the reports we received about you are true, brave and fearless. Many would have quailed by now. Do you know who I am?"

Aragorn shook his head, and the man captured his gaze. "I am the Mouth of Sauron, his Lieutenant of Barad-dur," he said softly, watching for Aragorn's reaction.

He had heard that name before, uttered in fear. This was Sauron's messenger to the living, one of the most ruthless of his warriors. The mention of his name was enough to cause fear that equaled that of Sauron's name. Evidently some of his thoughts showed on his face, for the Mouth of Sauron laughed.

"Good! You have heard of me. But you have nothing to fear from me, or at least not now. The Master has ordained that you are to live. And now, my lord, you will be shown to your room."

"Room?" The word slipped out before Aragorn could stop it.

Still grinning, the other man said, "Unless you prefer your cell." Aragorn wordlessly shook his head, "I did not think so. You will be lead to your room for rest, then Sauron want will see to you."

Before he had a chance to reply, the two orcs who had escorted him returned. Grasping his arms, they turned and strode out the door with him, as the dark-robed man disappeared back into the shadows.

~*~

Aragorn was once again led down the dark hallways, his mind trying to sort through everything. He had expected to be in a cell at least, waiting to be tortured. Instead, he was being shown to a room, at the Dark Lord's request. He had known enough about Sauron to be prepared for a trickery of some sort, for he delighted in the unexpected.

The orcs stopped before another door, this one bearing no unordinary marks. One pushed it open, and then shoved Aragorn into it. He quickly caught his balance, but not before the door slammed shut behind him. No lock was used, but the unmistakable sound of the orcs still standing in front of the door left him no chance to escape. Sighing, he looked around at the room he now occupied.

It was plain, only the barest essentials furnished it. A bed took up most of the space, and a bundle of black laid on it. He walked over to inspect it, and found clothes folded neatly. He picked up the silk shirt and held it before him, wondering if it had been left there by mistake.

The door was thrown open and he spun around. Two men walked in, barely giving Aragorn a glance. Between them a wooden tub was carried, filled with water. Seeing his confused look, one told him in a harsh voice, "Your bath, my lord. Master wishes you clean when you see him." They set the tub down in the middle of the room and departed.

Shaking his head, he dropped the shirt back onto the bed and walked over to the tub. Dipping a hand slightly into the water, he found it to be warm. It reminded him of how unclean he must be, but he wondered why the Dark Lord would care whether he was clean or not if he planned on killing him. Then the words of the Mouth of Sauron came to him. The Master has ordained that you are to live. Shrugging, he striped off his soiled clothes and stepped into the tub.

The servants had left a bar of soap and a towel beside the tub, and he reached down to pick the soap up. Cleaning his body as best as he could, Aragorn dunked his head under the water and quickly washed his hair, letting the longish strands drip water down his face when he rose back up. The water was beginning to cool before he stepped back out and dried off with the black towel. Walking over to the clothes on the bed, he gave them a look before drawing them on, finding that they fit his tall frame perfectly. The silk felt strange against his chest, but the only other option was to wear his tunic again. Opting to keep the shirt, he sat down and drew on his worn leather boots.

As he finished dressing, the door of his room was again opened. The orcs motioned him forward, and snarled something at him. Taking the hint, Aragorn walked back out into the hallway, knowing it was time to face his fate. Positioning themselves on both sides, they strode quickly back to the Great Hall with Aragorn between them. He now wished he had brought his sword with him, to give him at least some comfort. It was only fitting to have the Sword that had cut the One Ring from Sauron's own hand be with him as he faced the Dark Lord. Though he doubted Sauron would share that humor.

They stopped , and he once again stood in front of the strangely carved doors, and again the guards opened them. Not knowing what to expect, he stepped inside...

To find the room deserted. After seeing him inside, the orcs rushed away as before, and the guards shut the doors with an echoing click. Casting a glance around the room, he took another step forward, not noticing the dark shadow that had detached from the wall.

"Welcome back, my lord," the Mouth of Sauron called out, making Aragorn jerk toward the sound. He gave another small bow, "I trust the room was to your approval? As was the bath and clothes?" His eyes took in the black silk shirt and pants that the Ranger now wore.

Nodding, Aragorn looked around the room once again. "I thought I was to meet Sauron? Or has he suddenly become frightened?"

The Mouth of Sauron laughed, "Fool. No, the Master has not become frightened at facing you. In fact, he is looking forward to it eagerly. Perhaps you are the frightened one?" His dark eyes seemed to stare into his soul, and he smiled grimly, "So you are. You show more sense then most of your kind does. Fearing Sauron is wise indeed.

"But you wish to see the Dark Lord? Very well, you shall! For he has already seen you. The Dark Lord Sauron," he said with a flourish, before bowing and stepping back into the shadows. A high laugh rang out, chilling Aragorn to the bone. From the shadows of the wall before him came a man, if he could be called that, robed in garments as deep as the darkest night.

"Greetings, Lord Aragorn. I have been waiting for this moment for a long time," Sauron said with a dark smile.