Author: MarieAmethyst
Title: Surrender to the Darkness
Rating: R
Chapter: Six, Guinevere
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~
~*~
The hallways were deserted as before, only the sound of his boots treading on the hard floor breaking the still silence. A part of his mind remained baffled; it was rumored the Dark Lord had legions of slaves and servants at his beckoning, yet he had seen but a handful. And none had appeared to stop him after he left his room. A possible trap, his instincts warned silently, heightening his already elated senses.
Before him the strange door stood. Apprehension filled him as it had the previous two times, but resolutely he pressed forward. No guards were there, protecting the entrance to their Lord's throne room as they had done in the last instances he was brought here. Walking forward, Aragorn stretched a hand out, unease flickering through him, and touched one door with the tips of his fingers. At once vileness flooded through him, his hand jerking back in reflex. Breathing deeply to dispel the lingering affect, he shook his head slightly, again reaching out and this time pushing the door open.
Without pausing Aragorn strode into the dimly lit Great Hall that housed Sauron's throne, determined to face his oppressor and receive answers. Glancing around he noticed the Hall had not changed any in a night's time, still cold and dark, like its Master. And empty.
Disappointment briefly replaced the apprehension, before Aragorn compressed the feeling. Turning to return the way he had come, the Ranger was halted by the sound of his name. He knew who it was that had spoken. The Mouth of Sauron.
"I seek your liege," Aragorn said quietly, still facing the open doorway.
"Lord Sauron is resting in his chambers, not to be disturbed unless it is a grave matter," the cool voice replied.
"I wish to speak with him, nonetheless," he returned, just as coolly. Dislike of the Lieutenant filtered through him, but he ignored it and concentrated on what he had set out to do upon awakening.
"And if he does not wish to speak with you?"
"Is that not up to him to decide?"
The other became silent, and Aragorn could feel the hatred radiate from the figure behind him. "You are indeed arrogant, Lord Dunadan, to believe Lord Sauron would be at your beck and call. Once he has taken you and seen you are but a mere mortal and nothing more, he will tire of you and toss you aside like a used rag. He will see I am the only one worthy to share his bed and his rule," the Mouth of Sauron hissed softly.
Aragorn turned slowly, incredulity at the other's words rising. "You believe that I will ever share his bed, submit willingly to his touch, when even the smallest caress fills me with disgust?" he asked, pushing aside the part of him that reminded him just exactly what Sauron's touch filled him with.
The other snorted in contempt, "Lord Sauron always receives what he wants. It is only a matter of time before you are added to his list."
Aragorn's words were spoken in a voice tight with anger, "That, my lord, will never happen, on that I can assure you."
"So you say, yet Sauron is patient."
"And I am persistent." He turned back toward the doorway, only to see another occupied it.
A woman, with long, fiery red hair done up in elegant braids and large emerald eyes, stood noiselessly with an air of waiting about her. A long, dark green dress trimmed in silver sheathed her slender body, adding to the gracefulness and beauty she radiated, her smile full and genuine.
"Greetings and well met, Lord Aragorn," she said softly, a strange lilting in her voice. "Lord Sauron has bid me bring you to him, where he is resting in his private chambers." The emerald eyes, greener than any leaf or grass he had ever seen before, never wavered from his.
"Then please lead me there, Lady-?" Aragorn said courteously.
"Guinevere, wife of Lord Alastair. Who I am sure you have heard spoken of, if not yet met." A wry grin replaced the smile on her full lips.
He nodded, unsure of how to reply, when the nasal voice intruded. "Such a pleasant meeting, no doubt, but you would be wise not to be too friendly with this man, Guinevere. Your husband might start to wonder."
The Lady looked over Aragorn's black-clad shoulder at the other standing beyond. "Peace, Lieutenant. My lord knows my heart is his alone. Quit letting your jealousy get the better of you," she said mildly. Returning her gaze to Aragorn's, she asked, "If you are ready?" She offered her right arm.
Stepping forward, he tucked her arm under his in the common manner of escorting. He could not resist liking her, for to him it seemed she was not a part of this dark place, set above it in the gentle innocence deep in her eyes.
"Are you a prisoner here as well?" he found himself asking.
Guinevere turned her face a fraction to glance back into the shadows of the Great Hall, before motioning with her free hand toward the hallway ahead of them. Together they began to walk, leaving the Hall behind. The door they had been standing next to slammed shut on its own accord, causing Aragorn to look back quickly.
"Do not trouble your mind over much, Lord Aragorn," Guinevere said, drawing his attention forward again, "you will witness many magical deeds in Barad-dur."
"You have not answered my question, Lady," he replied instead. "Or do you wish not to speak of it? For if that is the case I will not force it out of you."
She laughed, the sound echoing merrily through the corridor. "Nay, I am no prisoner here, but a resident of my own free will. Oh, I know what you are thinking," she said, gazing at him sidelong, "what could possibly interest anyone in such a morbid place?"
"Yes, in truth," he said.
Her face took on a slight faraway look, "That in itself is a long tale, which I might tell you in full at a different time. But for now … When I first came here I was pretty absorbed in myself, quite obnoxious actually. Not at all like I am now, I can assure you," she said with another grin. "I was lost for a day and night, until a man clothed in black robes astride an equally black horse found me."
"Nazgul."
"Yes, though I did not know that 'title' for some time. I could not speak any language he knew, so I am sure you can imagine exactly how hard that was. Before I knew what was happening he charged me and then I found myself sitting before him on that wretched horse of his. It was not an enjoyable experience. We galloped off, later meeting up with the other eight. After that it sort of becomes a blur, for I was quite ill by then. I was brought here, cured, and to keep it brief, fell in love with the leader of the Nazgul nine and we married. Now how is that for a bedtime story?" she asked with an amused smile, watching the shock appear in his eyes.
"I have never heard so strange a tale. Does this Alastair love you in return?" Aragorn found it hard believe a Nazgul could feel such a deep emotion as love.
Guinevere smiled, her eyes softening, "Yes, he does. Amazing, is not it?"
"Yes," he agreed as they turned down another corridor. A circular stairway was situated at the end of it. Guinevere led him to it, and stopped.
Looking up into his face, she said, "This set of stairs leads to Lord Sauron's private quarters. When you reach the top you will find a door. Just knock."
Aragorn glanced at the stairs, then returned Guinevere's gaze. "I thank you, Lady. Will I see you again later?"
The emerald eyes lit up with mischief, "You may count on it, Lord Aragorn." In that instant he realized she could be no older than twenty and one.
He smiled as well, "I shall look forward to it, Lady."
"Guinevere. If we are going to be better acquainted, we may move on to the first name stage, yes?"
"Aragorn, then, if I am to call you by yours."
"Deal!" she laughed, letting go of his arm and stepping back. "I must depart for now, and you cannot keep Lord Sauron waiting. If you would give me your consent and the pleasure of your company for a few hours, I will see if you may share your next meal with me."
At the mention of food his stomach reminded him he had yet to eat. "It would be my pleasure to, La- Guinevere," Aragorn replied.
"Good, I will see you later today then. May luck be with you." With on last smile she walked back down the corridor, disappearing around the corner in a flash of green.
He stared after her in brief bemusement, wondering how a woman such as she, who obviously was happy with life, lived here and still kept such a humor. Unless she was but another trickery of the Dark Lord, sent to relax him of his guard. Even as his mind formed the theory his heart rejected it. Guinevere, whoever she was, acted true to herself.
After another moment of reflection, Aragorn focused on the matter at hand. The stairway ascended upward in a spiral, brightly lit and more up kept than the corridors and hallways he had just traveled down.
Two strides brought him to the base of it; another had him standing on the first of the steps. That completed, he continued on, easily making his way up where others would have had difficulty. The lack of exercise and food in the last few days hindered him only slightly, and within minutes he reached the top.
Stepping onto the small landing, Aragorn stared at the single door before him. Simpler than what he had half-expected, it was made of a strong, dark wood inscribed with runes he recognized as an ancient Elvish language, of that he could not read. Yet the intention of the runes was clear: spell words of protection.
So he does worry. Finding a strange reassurance in that thought, that the Dark Lord might possess some traits of Man, Aragorn closed the remaining distance to the door and stopped before it. Raising his right hand, he knocked twice in quick, sure succession, letting his hand fall back to his side afterward. And waited.
~*~
Author's Note, Part Two: The whole Guinevere idea wasn't something thought up for the Surrender to the Darkness storyline alone, she was originally created for another fanfiction I'm working on in my LiveJournal that takes place three years before this. (Actually started as a joke in an attempt to convince a friend that Nazgul *are* sexy… if you picture them smart, dark, and handsome.) I promise to keep interaction with her to a minimum since she really isn't the focus of the story.