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Adar clamps his eyes shut as he leans against the tree.
Relief floods his body as he realizes the sun, or rather, what is visible of the burning ball in the sky, penetrating the ash, finally vanishes. It leaves Mordor darker than it already is, which is an even greater reward for his children. He listens to them jeering, laughing with one another, sparring; it’s as if their days of torture, slavery and pain are behind them. This is their land, their home, Adar never has to worry about that being taken from them.
Or so, he told himself. He still tells himself now, when he is around them.
Yet, it’s times like this when he prefers the night to the day, night hides his expressions. When the sky is red and ashen, light still shines upon him. It may not hurt his children, but it reveals a weakness in him. A tiredness or a fear.
A fear of the past. Of what is to come.
A fear of the Dark Lord.
In the waking hours, Adar feels his presence in the distance, falling upon him like an unavoidable doom. He’s heard whispers growing perilous in the distance, and when he looks ahead, sometimes Adar swears he sees him. A shadow, standing behind the burnt trees, his mere presence causing Adar to pause.
This is why Adar prays night will bring him solace; an end to the Terror.
Terror. That is something he has not attributed to himself for many years. Adar does not “fear”, he has not for many years. At least, not for himself. He has feared what will happen to his children, it is what brought him here, to the Southlands, to Mordor. And like any father, he does not want his children to fear for him. So he refuses to show them weakness.
Yet this feeling, as he closes his eyes, leaned against a tree engulfs him no–seduces him. And when once he stared at the ashen night coming to rest, he stares at the darkness behind his eyelids, yet it is no normal sleep. It happens to fast, as if a shroud is brought over his consciousness and he is there but at the same time, he is not. Only an observer of his body, of what happens before him.
That is when Adar knows, he is here.
A simple sleep turned to a pit of darkness and despair. He has fallen right into his trap.
“ I’ve been looking for you.” The voice coos from the darkness, filled with anger of betrayal yet a tenderness that is almost deceptive. Adar or, whatever he is now, shudders. He cannot see his body, but he can feel it, and with that he feels fear.
Then he feels the cold hands caressing his formless face, a gentle thumb rub across his lips.
Adar closes his eyes tighter, the voice speaks in his ear again. “ Did you not think I would find you, my love?”
He opens his eyes again, hoping to see his children, to be sitting beneath the volcanic ash. Yet, he is brought to a place of many years ago. Thousands of years ago. A stone fortress, a cold table, blood on his hands. Blood of his children.
Adar nearly retches yet, he steadies his mind.
This is a memory. A flashback. The dark lord is known to penetrate the minds of those around him, reflecting their most painful memories. Adar knows he cannot react.
That is what he wants, that is why he has taken him back here, to break him.
And as Adar gazes ahead, at the large slab of reflective metal ahead of the stone operating table, he sees not just his reflection, but another…taller and lighter standing behind him. He sees that white hair, shining like snow, the pale skin as pure as the night sky, yet the red eyes that betray it all.
He sees, Sauron. The Dark Lord. Just as he was, thousands of years ago. Just as they were together after another unsuccessful experimentation on an innocent orc, gazing at themselves in the mirror this way. Neither sure what the intentions of the others were.
For a split second, Adar allows himself to feel fear.
Yet that fear is quickly eclipsed by anger; a hot boiling fury rising within the pits of his stomach. He has no weapon, no sword; this is simply a memory from thousands of year ago erected to push him to the edge. Yet Adar does not care, he did not care all those years ago when he took a chance and struck Sauron.
Now he turns around, fists balled, biting back tears and lunges.
The Dark Lord is quicker this time. Even in a vision he takes Adar by the arm, hand clamping against the corrupted elf’s wrist. He turns him back around, restraining him. Adar gazes back at his own reflection, hot vexation in his expression.
“ Shh…” The voice echoes through the hall, and Adar feels those cold hands place themselves upon his shoulders and gently slide down to his hips where they rest firmly. Adar does not struggle, he calms himself. Again, struggling is what the Dark Lord wants.
Rather, he gazes at himself in the mirror this time; still corrupted but younger. Tears in his eyes of pain, fear and acceptance. Acceptance of a life he did not choose for himself. That was his mindset thousands of years ago. A silent defeat in a cold fortress.
He then feels cool lips upon his neck, caressing him so tenderly and lovingly. Adar almost closes his eyes in pleasure; the realization of the nightmare nearly fading from his mind. He leans back into the kiss, and a pale hand snakes its way to his neck, steadying him.
The kisses turn more passionate and then, transform to bites that trail from the neck to the ear.
Sauron stops, eyes still red, gazing at Adar and then back at their reflection.
“We were to rule, together.” He speaks clearly now. “You and I. It is why I spared you after Morgoth corrupted you, it is why I kept you safe, with me. Yet you chose them, over us.”
He referred to the orcs.
Much of what Sauron says is true.
Adar was spared from death and from the true brunt of torture by Mairon’s plea, and when Morgoth was defeated, Mairon kept Adar by his side. In truth, Adar did attempt to return to elven society; once. But, he was not accepted. Elves did not take kind to deformity, or mental deficiency of any kind. Elven society had to be pure, both physically and mentally, and sound of mind. The ancient books villainized elves for their torture and disabilities–especially if they were captured by Morgoth, and even doubly if they were not of the Eldar. Adar had heard enough of the tales of the Moriquendi Maeglin whose torture, abuse and control drove him to betray his kin in Gondolin. Or perhaps, the tales, Fëanor who suffered greatly after the loss of his mother and harassment by the Vala Morgoth, and event the mighty Galadriel, who was shunned for her trauma.
Elven society was not accepting of those who were hurt, and would go great lengths to portray them poorly in their histories.
Adar soon discovered he would no longer be accepted by his kin. So he returned to Sauron, who accepted him with open arms.
They pillaged lands together, killed lords and kings, destroyed elven realms. They ruled together. And back then Adar was naive–he needed a home, and needed to make up for the lost love the Elves denied him. Yet still, all was not as it seemed.
Thoughts running out of control he opens his eyes again, gazing back at the reflection with Sauron behind him.
He curses mentally, realizing that he is still entranced in this vision. He’d hope that this dream would end by now, and that he’d wake against the tree he prior fell asleep beneath.
“ Why did you choose them–the orcs, these slaves over us?” Sauron asks in the silence. “I will forgive you, if you turn away from th em. G ive them to me, we will rule together.”
Adar doesn’t say anything yet–he hasn’t.
He doesn’t know what to say, he only has a plethora of thoughts running on repeat in his mind. He is sure Sauron knows already what he wants to say. So he speaks, for the first time during this conversation.
“You didn’t love me. You still don’t.” Adar breathes, fists clenched. “I was just a means to an end–a replacement until you brought back Morgoth.”
This is why Adar felt an affinity toward his children. The ones who loved him and cared for him, the ones who saw upon him a figure of protection. Their devotion was unconditional.
Sauron was different.
Sauron only cared for Morgoth, the Dark Lord. All his plans were to bring him back. Adar knew he was just a stand in, and barely that.
“When Morgoth returns, what will you do to me?”
Is is then, as the memory continues, Adar feels something in his hand. Heavy and cold, and he grips it. Just as the memory years ago played out, he turns toward Sauron, fury in his eyes and lunges toward him with a dagger. Yet this time, Sauron does succumb to the blade. He grabs it, harshly, eyes narrow and red.
He doesn’t release Adar’s hand, but instead pulls him near , so they are closer to one another.
To Adar’s fury, Sauron goes in for a kiss. It is passionate and filled with lust and fire, and Adar cannot break free. Luckily, Sauron detaches, still gazing at the elf. He then leads forward, lips brushing against Adar’s ear again.
“ You are mine. You will always be mine.” He whispers possessively. “And I am coming for you. When I find you, I will make you submit. You will be mine to have.”
He pushes Adar away and like that, the vision is gone.
Adar wakes as the dream ends, leaning against the tree. He stares ahead again in the same place he was in before, where he fell asleep, hoping for calmer days.
His heart is racing, eyes wide, breath ragged. It’s as if he can feel the cold lips upon his own, the bite marks on his neck; he quickly moves his hair to cover them. As much as he wishes it was just a dream, and that Sauron was not there...this all but confirms it.
Adar wants to scream.
“Adar…” A kinder voice whispers near him. Penetrating the cold terror he feels. Not one of Sauron, but of one his children…his daughter. “Adar…you are crying.”
She stands there, her orcish eyes filled with worry.
Adar wipes his face, shaking his head. “I am fine, my child.” He responds quietly, but he is lying.
It’s enough for her to believe him. She offers a smile and runs off, with her taking the small bit of happiness Adar tries to hold on to.
Adar closes his eyes again, leaning back against the tree. The memory so vivid and so real, pierces through him. He wishes it was simply a dream, a terrible nightmare, but it is anything but that.
Sauron is here. Somewhere beneath this ash, or above the trees. He is in the embers of the volcano and the he is the ever looming Shadow of Mordor.
Adar must prepare, but he will not submit.
He will protect his children, and this land no matter what it cost. Even if that cost is his life.