Category: Tolkien-Universe
Rating: M
Couples: -
Warnings: AU, blood, mentions of torture, character death, Loss of bodily autonomy (no Non-con)
Chapter: 31
Copyright: Characters & places © By Tolkien Estate, Plot & OC´s © by me
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It was Huan that spotted their welcoming-committee... or rather, smelled their welcoming-committee. Seated on one of the canyon-sides of not-yet worn down rock, Sauron loomed over them, two massive wolves flanking him. The setting sun tinted him red, yet his eyes still burned bright orange.
The wolfhound of Valinor did not growl, but he could not stop his hackles from being raised.
"I'd welcome you, if I felt any desire for you to be here." The Maia called down in clear, elegant Quenya. "Turn around, these are my lands."
"We come to barter!" Ñolofinwë called up, drawing his horse to a stop.
"Oh, because when I try it, we're not doing it, but I am to bend over backwards for your attempt?" The black-clad figure snarled. "The chance of diplomacy was on Tol Sirion, not at Zwarte Donjon, Ñolofinwë. You squandered that chance, and I am not at all inclined to offer you another."
"What about the rest of us?" Nelyo drove his horse up, red hair tucked away under the local headdress as his uncle hissed softly. "Are we allowed to barter with thee?"
"Do you have anything I'd want?" He laughed, crossing his legs on his rocky seat. "I have a kingdom here, and luxuries beyond what I had in Beleriand. Why would I want to lose it?"
"That's what the barter is for." The eldest son of Fëanáro stated. "Surely we can at least try and see if we can find some agreement between us? What do you have to lose?"
Tyelkormo only barely kept from growling as the Maia exaggeratedly thought it over. If it were up to him, they'd just force the issue, but it had not been up to him.
"Stay calm." Surprisingly, his father was not addressing anyone, in fact standing at the back of the group. The smith's hand was warm around his arm.
"Yeah, yeah..." He whispered back, remembering what had happened the last time they had not staid calm. It was the main reason he let the others convince him to not try and force the issue. Huan leaned against his leg, muscles tense under the sleek fur.
"Well, I suppose you would keep bothering me if I said no right now, wouldn't you?" The Sorcerer Lord of the South smirked. "Very well, I will tell the inn to make space for you."
He grinned down on them, his glowing eyes growing more intense. "I look forward to your despair." A fire flared briefly, and only the two wolves were left.
"Why do we have to do it this way?" He sighed, following the two massive beasts as they turned downriver.
"Because we don't know exactly what they swore, so we need to make sure their oath does not force them to turn against us." His father answered evenly, tucking some free hair back under his head-wrap. "I don't want to consider the results from that."
The silver-haired elf sighed again, with more feeling. "Yes, yes." He nudged his horse back into motion to follow the river. It was thin here, carved deep into the surrounding landscape. Probably if it were a wet season, they would not have been able to ride down here as the entire thing would have been water, no doubt.
The other four horses followed, while Huan took point once more.
"He does not have the best naming-skills, doesn't he?" The eldest of the five mused after a while, as they could do little else while moving. It was growing steadily darker down here now that the Sun was setting, and the horses could not go fast without the risk of losing their footing. "Going for 'Black Keep' for his domain."
"He gets it from his Master... 'Iron Prison', remember?" His half-brother tried to go for a light-hearted tone, but did not quite manage to do so. "Not really the most creative name either, isn't it?"
"Hey, beats Nelyo calling his home 'Cool Cold'." Makalaurë chirped with a playful grin aimed at his elder brother. It almost looked natural. "Or Tyelko with his 'Narrow Pass'."
"At least I gave it a name and didn't just go 'Maglor's Gap' for my domain." The red-head countered, raising his arm as if to thump the musician beside him, much like how he would have done once upon a time in Tirion.
"Okay, so no one in existence can think of good names, got it." Fëanáro looked at his brother.
"Not even you." Said brother pointed out. "'Strong-voiced Finwë', really?"
"Has he ever managed to shut up for more than five seconds?"
"Hey!"