In the Dark and the Light by chrissystriped

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Chapter One

additional warnings: dub-con, minor character death,

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Nórimo gasped when a wave of icy water hit him. His heart started to race. He’d been captured days ago together with all his family who’d survived the raid on their village. They’d been herded north, forced down into tunnels that took away any sense of direction. When he’d tried to fight and protect the women of having unspeakable things done to them, the glamhoth had beaten him up, he still could barely see out of his eyes.

All he could make out through the swollen skin was the flickering light of torches. He’d been separated from the others on arrival at their destination and brought to this room, chained by his hands to a chain hanging from the ceiling and left for what felt like hours.

“I’ve been told you put up a fight”, a smooth voice said. “I like fighters, they make good subjects.”

Nórimo jerked back when fingers slid down his cheek.

“I’m going to try something new with you.” The voice was like honey dribbled in his ears and slowly oozing into his brain.

He should be lucky he was here. His family had been made slaves, put to work until they’d die of exhaustion and hunger. But he had the chance to become more, become something better than he had been.

Nórimo shook his head, trying to dislodge the foreign thoughts. “Let me in”, the voice whispered close to his ear.

“Let me in and this will go so much easier for you.”

“No”, Nórimo croaked through his parched throat.

No, he could not let the Enemy win just like that. The voice snapped his fingers and Nórimo heard movement behind him.

“Fifty lashes”, the voice said.

Nórimo bit of a startled scream when the whip cracked on his back for the first time.

“Remember”, the voice said, touching his cheek again. “You can stop this at any time, just let me in.” Nórimo gritted his teeth.

 

Any sense of time he’d still had had left him a long time ago. The voice left him alone sometimes, to think, as he said, but he always came back and with him the pain — and the promises.

“All this will stop, if you let me into your mind. I will take away the pain. I will heal you.”

Nórimo swayed in his chains, shoulders screaming with the strain. He could smell his blood running down his flayed back and the stench of charred flesh — a glowing iron having been applied to his skin. He whimpered when his torturer’s fingers stroked his raw cheeks, skin burned away by a paste of some sort.

“Stop fighting.” Honey dribbling into his ears. “Let me heal you.”

It would be so much easier to give in. The pain would stop. He would have a good life if he bowed the knee to his new master. Healing, and food, and women. And fighting for the glory of the King of the World. Didn’t he want to serve the mighty God who ruled this world?

“Yes, that’s it”, Lieutenant Mairon said gently. “Give yourself to me and you will be rewarded.”

Warmth spread from the Lieutenant's hand, the pain in his body lessening.

“Who is your master.”

“You are, master”, he croaked.

A heavy grey blanket lay over all his mind. He did not know who he was or where he came from. There was a reason why he was chained, he was sure, but he did not remember it.

“Very good”, the Master crooned. “I’ll name you Ash and I hope our Lord will agree with me that you should not stay the only one.”

“Thank you, master”, he whispered, grateful that he’d been given a name.

The Master smiled at him. “You’ll prove your gratefulness to me, of course, by obeying my every order”, he said, a threat hiding behind that smile.

Ash shuddered. “Yes, Master”, he hurried to say. The chains fell away and he knelt, knowing he should.

“Very good.” The Master snapped his fingers and one of Ash’s older brethren stepped forward. “Food and drink for our new soldier, captain, and water to wash. Keep him separate from the others for now.”

“Yes, sir.” The Uruk saluted. “Follow me”, he ordered gruffly and Ash obeyed, knowing it was the Master’s will.

 

~*~*~

 

Ash followed the Master through the cavernous throne room. He could feel eyes on him but kept his own trained on the Master’s back. They stopped before King Melkor’s throne, Ash caught a glimpse of obsidian, dark armour, pale skin, before the Master ordered him to prostrate himself.

“My Lord, I have taken a new approach to making Uruks. As you know, many die during the transformation and this process is less stressful on the subject. And there is the additional advantage of soldiers like this being able to pose as elves. We can infiltrate settlements, find their weaknesses, take more prisoners alive.”

“And he is subdued?”

Ash had listened without emotion but he tensed when he felt another mind slide into his. He did not push back. He knew he had to allow his betters entry. Vast, so much vaster than the Master’s. Ash cowered before this God who could obliterate him with a thought.

“He is. Absolutely obedient and loyal to you.” A knife clanged to the floor in front of Ash. “Cut your arm.”

Ash pushed up his sleeve and set the knife to his skin. The fog in his mind did not allow him to think about it. He had been given an order and he obeyed. Pain welled with the blood but he gritted his teeth and pressed the blade deeper.

“Enough.”

Ash stopped, breathing quickly, the blood running down his arm and dripping from his fingers.

“Nothing against your handiwork, but I’m not quite convinced.” The King’s mind dug deeper into his, riffling through forgotten memories that Ash couldn’t even glimpse through the fog.

“Get me a thrall”, the King ordered and moments later a whimpering elf was pushed on his knees before the throne.

“Kill it.”

Ash turned towards the thrall and lifted the knife.

“No. No, please”, the elf whimpered.

Something discomforting tugged against the depth of Ash’s soul. The wrongness of it fighting against the power of the order given. But he had to. He was only a tool, he had to obey. His hand trembled when he plunged it into the elf’s chest. Ash watched the light leave his eyes and felt sick and fascinated at the same time.

“Very good”, the King rumbled and the praise went to Ash’s head like alcohol. “Lick the blood off the blade.”

It was still warm from the body and tasted like life. Ash felt a craving for it clench his chest. He wanted to cut the body open and devour its flesh raw. The King’s mind pressed in on him again, deeper than anytime before and for a moment Ash lost any sense of where he was. When he came back to himself, the King’s mind had receded but he’d left something behind. Something in his body and soul that he instinctively knew had changed him irreversibly.

“You have done well, Lieutenant. I’ve left my seed in him. Give him my mark and test if he breeds desirable offspring. And come to me later.”

“As you command, my Lord.” The Master bowed deeply and motioned for Ash to follow him down the hall, their faces still turned towards the throne.

 

The heat of the forge fire wafted over him and left beads of sweat on his bare chest. Ash eyed the branding iron lying between the coals with a hollow feeling in his stomach. He knew this would hurt. He felt like he’d been in pain all his life, he wished so desperately for it to be over. His arm had been bandaged but throbbed with pain and he felt lightheaded with blood-loss — or maybe it was the after-effects of whatever the King had left inside him.

“Don’t move”, the Master said and Ash tensed, gritting his teeth when the glowing brand was pressed to his his chest, over his heart. A strangled moan came over his lips. The smell of charred flesh invaded is nostrils, bile rose in his throat.

The Master put the brand away and looked approvingly at his chest. “Come”, he ordered and Ash followed him into another room full of strange contraptions and devices. A stone table stood in the middle of it and Ash shuddered when he saw the straps hanging down from it. The hair at his neck rose at the thought of being tied down on that.

“Sit.”

The Master patted he smooth stone and Ash obeyed. He tensed when the Master opened his trousers and took his cock out.

“I promised you women”, the Master said, stroking him slowly. “And we expect you to produce strong offspring.” Ash drew a shuddering breath as his body reacted to the touch. “But not every Uruk’s seed is strong enough. We’ll have to test that. So I need some of your seed”

Ash bit his lip when a moan threatened to break free from his throat.

“Look at me”, the Master said. His eyes glowed golden and he looked… he looked like… Ash felt a rush of desire course through his body. He wanted him. He wanted to throw him on the table and bury his cock inside him. The Master smiled, his fingers working him expertly. Ash thrust into his hand, wanting more. More! The Master’s grip became harder and Ash jerked, tasting blood when he bit down on his lip to stop himself from making a sound as he came.

The Master caught his seed in a glass cup. “You may satisfy your lust with slaves until I have results”, the Master said, turning away from him. “Rest now. Your training starts tomorrow.”

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Chapter End Notes

Ash = "One" in Black Speech (Sauron is numbering his experiments and I don't want to know how many 0.x there were until he was satisfied...)