Frodo looked around the room frantically, gazing out from the deceptive comforts of the large bed he found himself in. Clad only in his blouse, the Ring still hung heavily around his neck, the silver chain burning hot and cold simultaneously. It was a small reassurance, a touch of familiarity in the unknown. His body ached, worn from the journey to Mordor, yet was cleansed of sweat and dirt and guilt. No longer was he agued from the burden of the Ring. The linens were soft and cool, soothing to the touch. Across the foot of the bed was a thick fur bolster that he could scarcely reach. The entire room was fit for a king, and yet he, a Hobbit of no importance, was curled up, cloistered in its comforts.
Where in Middle Earth am I?
''You don't know where you are, Halfling? You don't remember? How disappointing''. A mocking voice called out from behind the bed's shrouding, tinged with amusement and a trace of arousal. ''I did wonder if you would forget the events of Mount Doom so quickly, though I didn't expect them to be quite so… Blotted out for you. Even so. You appear comfortable. You scarcely take up any room in my bed, little one, yet you warm it ever so nicely''.
Frodo trembled, the timber of the voice setting his body on edge. Every nerve was stimulated, every shred of bravery he may have once had, gone. The Ring glowed hot against his chest, his breath drawing short. ''Who are you?'' he squeaked out. ''Show yourself!''
''Oh, how bold of you, Hobbit. Making demands of me. I suppose I should grant you the courtesy of my face.'' Slowly, a fair form appeared from behind the bed curtains. Cool olive skin, framed by long, straight golden hair, an aristocratic nose set between harsh amber eyes and above a mocking mouth, Sauron revealed himself to the vulnerable Frodo. His long fingers tapped rhythmically on his biceps, arms crossed, quietly demonstrating the sinewy strength he possessed. The Maiar smirked, cocking an eyebrow as he took in the sight before him. Beneath the crumpled bone-white sheets was his latest acquisition, the Hobbit Frodo Baggins of Bag End, The Shire. Sauron had ordered his most trusted guards to bring the Halfing to his Tower, following the betrayal of Samwise and near-death of Frodo. The abduction was clean, precise; Frodo had fainted of exhaustion, the pressures of his mission finally taking their toll. Sam's admission of jealousy and hatred, his attempts to steal the Ring from Frodo's neck and skirmish with Gollum was the tipping point.
The Necromancer had watched the events from his Tower, relishing in Frodo's heartbreak, the pain of both Sam's betrayal and his body's etching itself across the boy's face. It was an expression Sauron was keen to relive, to preserve, to prolong. And he would have what he desired. His goal was simple: keep the boy alive, broken then rebuilt. So utterly dependent on and devoted to his Lord that he would, in time, give over the Ring, and once more Sauron's power would be ultimate.
"Do you recognise me now?"
"No." A lie.
"Pity. You've seen me in your mind's eye many times, boy. But then, I'm not surprised you don't recognise me, after everything you've been through." Sauron's smirk softened, his eyes appearing to warm, but the efficacy of deception was shallow. "Your companions' betrayal, so many needless deaths, so much blood spilled… And all because of your Gandalf. Your mission to destroy the Ring saw countless bodies slaughtered, in the name of the Light. Tell me, was it worth it? I'm aware you may not remember any of it, but the trauma, is it as… Lingering as I imagine?"
He took a seat at the foot of the bed, leaning against one of the thick pillars holding the canopy, stretching a leg out along the bed. Frodo watched Sauron carefully, each calculated movement, each turn of his head, observation of his nails, flex of muscle. The Hobbit licked his lip nervously. "No", he mumbled. Another lie.
"No? How disappointing."
"I meant no, the… My journey was not worthwhile." Frodo's fingers curled around the Ring slowly, his eyes closing with remorse. "Gandalf was a fool. Sam was a fool. I'm a fool! We were all pawns in the game. None of us truly knew what to expect. But… Even though I can't recall who you are just yet, I know this - you will never take the Ring from me. You are bewitching, I'll grant you. Yet your beauty is shallow. I can sense the darkness in you. You would abuse the Ring."
Sauron's eyes narrowed, his predatory smile still firmly in place. "A pretty speech, Halfling. Perhaps you do need reminding of who I am." He rose slowly, pacing toward the head of the bed, toward Frodo, and leaned in, entrapping the Hobbit without touching him. The man's natural scent, that of charcoal and blood, musk and sweet decay, mingled with Frodo's fresh soap in a disturbingly complimentary manner. The Hobbit, paralysed in fear, gripped the sheets tight in his small hands, yet stuck his chin out in feigned defiance, a challenge to the strange man gradually looming over him. ''I know who you are.''
"Which is it, boy? You do know, or you do not?''
He leaned in closer still, lips brushing Frodo's ear, and lowered his voice. ''
My name is Sauron, Frodo Baggins of Bag End. And you are in my possession. As is the Ring around that pretty neck of yours. While I cannot remove it by force, I can break you. And I will break you. You will find yourself so enraptured that you cannot resist the urge to give it to me. You are a mere obstacle to me, boy, a toy of flesh and bone that I will not hesitate to discard once you're used. But, if you prove… Useful, perhaps you may remain in my company. As a Ring Bearer… Or a pet."
Sauron's voice echoed in Frodo's ears, smothering him like velvet, barely veiling the genuine threat and danger he promised. His hands were now either side of Frodo's body on the bed, amber eyes burning hot with tension and desire. Frodo looked down at his own chest, and back again at Sauron, back and forth, caught between the Rings of gold and amber.
"Speak, boy. I have not ordered you silent just yet. Or are you too concerned with pissing yourself with fear?"
"I… I'm not afraid of you. I recognise you. You're yet another beast. I've seen plenty throughout Middle Earth. You'll never have the Ring. Do as you like with me. I have no fear for myself."
The dangerous beauty chuckled darkly, tucking an errant curl behind Frodo's ear, tracing his jaw to his full pink lips where he lingered. "You're a terrible liar, Frodo Baggins. I see your body tremble. I hear your voice quiver. It's almost sweet. You will, perhaps, be my most enjoyable break yet." He murmured, before leaning down and kissing the Hobbit softly, silencing Frodo.