Impulse

Angband AU.  Have you ever wondered why Gelmir was blinded?  Has it ever occurred to you that Sauron never makes an appearance in the Fifth Battle?  Both happened to me.  And this is the result.  Blame the prompt.  Quenya name used for Angrod (i.e. Angaráto).  This story is obviously related to "Defiance", "Powder" and "Parade", and in fact takes place in the middle of "Parade", part of which inspired this.  "Powerless" did the rest.  Takes place in Angband almost immediately proceeding Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion

Pairings: implied one-sided Sauron x Angrod and Sauron x Finduilas

Characters: Angrod, Sauron, Gelmir (mentions Finduilas and other random elves)

Warning: follows canon but is not compliant, non-canon character survival, semi-explicit gore, implied violence, mental breakdowns, psychosis, sadism, implied rape and torture, slavery, sexual slavery

Song: Harmaggedon

Words: 1,081
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impulse (noun): inspiration, motivation; a force so communicated as to produce motion suddenly; incentive; the act of driving onward with sudden force: impulsion; a sudden spontaneous inclination or incitement to some usually unpremeditated action
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/impulse

He hadn't meant for it to happen.

But no one in these conditions could be blamed for spontaneous breaks.  Months of starvation, of shadow, of torture.  Everyone had a breaking point.  And the former prince had just reached his--had completely snapped and taken leave of his senses and rationality for just that briefest moment in time.

Luckily--or unluckily, depending on one's point of view--the Lieutenant of Angband himself had been just a little too close to the elf in the midst of a psychotic episode.

Apparently, said Lieutenant had overestimated Angaráto's abilities of toleration.  Or perhaps he had just chosen the wrong lever to pull.  Child murder, brutal rape and sadistic torture had yet to push him back the point of no return--why then should talking of his niece make any difference?

As said Lieutenant's face was currently sans his iridescent, wicked eyes.  The mangled remains of the orbs which had been driving Angaráto absolutely senile since his permanent incarceration now lay on the filthy floor of his cell, trampled and squashed and smeared with blood and unknown fluids.  It was, apparently, all he had managed to grab of his tormentor other than the handful of golden hair still clenched tightly in his fist, bits of scalp and blood clinging to the roots.

"We will find her, thou shouldst know, the Princess of Nargothrond.  Thy niece, no?"

That piece of filth just could not cease speaking and taunting.  For days and days.  When he was not torturing an innocent bystander in his favorite prisoner's stead, he was standing just beyond the jagged bars, smiling that broad, gleeful grin of a sadist whose hands were covered in blood and ears filled with screams to their heart's content.

"Maybe I should have a taste of her myself," the Lieutenant added, coming within arm's distance of the bars, sultry features contorted in feigned ecstasy, "before I hand her over to my servants for fun.  Or for breeding."

And who could blame him for feeling rage curl like a knife's icy tip in his gut?  For shuddering and boiling from the inside out with pure hatred and revulsion?

For feeling the cracks in the walls of his iron will suddenly widening beneath the earthquake of his visceral emotions--a shattered dam releasing thousands of tons of blocked and boarded impulses.  All the times he had curled his fists at his sides.  All the times he had bitten his tongue and lips until he tasted copper.  All the times his nails bit so deep into flesh that crescents of blood were born upon white skin.

All the times he thought of what he would do if ever that swanlike throat formed of sculpted alabaster and ringlets of molten gold came too close--

"I can almost taste her now, my slave." Fingers reached inside, curled in Angaráto's hair and fisted, pulling him face-to-face with the monstrous creature of deceptive beauty.  A tongue, burning flesh as acid, swept over his cheek and lips. "Mayhap she would taste like thee, little prince, so good..."

It was a shame that tongue has escaped his malice.  But even so, Angaráto doubted his foe would be sliding the slimy appendage between the bars again any time in the near future.  Not if he wanted it to remain attached.

The eyes were compensation enough, though Angaráto himself would have preferred the vocal chords.  Then, at least, he would not have to listen to that slippery, seductive voice imparting its parables and threats and promises as sweet dripping honey laced in poison.

And now, he stood defiant before the gates to his hell, awaiting his sentence.

"I certainly did not expect that," came those same dulcet tones rolling from the tongue that had just defiled his face. "Thou art even more defiant than I had expected, slave."

Angaráto said nothing.  He would not speak to that abomination.  Would not give him the satisfaction of knowing how he had slipped beneath the prince's thick skin like a bloodthirsty parasite.

"Now, now, do not be like that." For someone whose eyes had just been ripped brutally from their skull, the Lieutenant was still rather talkative and cheerful.  He now had a strip of leather tied about his head, covering the empty, gory sockets, though blood still dribbled down his porcelain cheeks and stained his velveteen finery. "I see I need to work harder to instill obedience upon thee, yes?"

As if he would ever obediently roll over and play dead for that thing.

"Why not bring me another thrall, my servants.  I think punishment is in order."

Another thrall?

He did not regret what he had done to the Lieutenant.  Not in the least.  Even now, his blood slithered and spat within his veins, throbbing violently under his skin.

But this was a new game.  One that left a sinking feeling settling into the pit of his stomach, dragging him down until his knees wobbled and nearly collapsed.  And, before he thought to protest such heinous cruelty or offer himself up to the psychotic Lieutenant of Angband as payment, already there was before them a skinny, malnourished thrall with wispy pale hair and an ashy look in his eyes.  Hatred and fear and the dreadful dullness of hopelessness stared back at him.

A worker from the mines.  He could tell by the bend of the spine and the calluses of the splayed, dirtied feet.

"This is Gelmir of Nargothrond," the Lieutenant introduced, as though he could actually see the newcomer. "Thou shouldst see, my lovely slave, what happens when thou dost act out without thought.  Because it will not be thee who suffers my wrath, but thy whipping boy."

Confirmed.  The dread was worth its weight in iron in his stomach.  Angaráto felt sick.

"An eye for an eye--that is the saying, no?" Laughing, the golden-haired beauty turned towards the shuddering, cowering thrall. "Or, in this case, two for two."

"You are a sick bast--"

"Now, now..." Fingers caught his face again, nails running with false tenderness over the curve of his cheek. "Sit back and enjoy the show, my dear... After all, if is thy punishment."

He could only watch in horror as the other slave was dragged forth.

And then there came the screams.
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You know, I kept wanting to add something more to the end of this, but I have the feeling that this is a "part two" sort of story.  When I find the correct prompt, of course.  Forgive me for skipping the generally explicit violence.  I didn't feel that pissed off today.  In fact, I'm in a fairly okay mood for having been bored stupid most of the day.  By the time you read this, though, it will probably already be tomorrow.  In any case, forgive the lateness; thou dost know why.

The song I listened to might have a touch more movement than this splurge, but the right sort of harmony (if you can call it that).  Harmaggedon by Apocalyptica--one of my favorite songs they've done.  I have no idea why, because I really don't like most of the songs from Inquisition Symphony, but this one greatly pleased me.  I bought the album anyway just because I wanted this song.  And it fits Sauron's personality so well that it makes me giggle thinking about it.

THE NEXT DAY: Hello.  I'm just posting this now.  There will hopefully be another story this afternoon if I can manage before I'm uprooted from my wifi again.  There's no wifi where I'm actually sleeping, so if I don't get it done in time... yeah... you may have to wait until tomorrow.

But I swear if I get behind I'll get caught up.  I'm still working on today's prompt today LOL.