Ring

Yo, still working on the story for tonight.  You may have to wait longer for "Empty".  But it's almost Thanksgiving Break so I should have some free time soon.

Lust AU.  Celebrimbor struggles once again with letting go of the past.  It's more difficult than others would like to believe.  Quenya names used (Celebrimbor = Telperinquar, Sauron = Annatar).  This is, of course, part of the Lust arc and takes place after "Nowhere" and "Celebration", but is obviously also related to "Grace", "Dream" and "Nightmare" in this chronological part of the arc.  I suppose it's a parallel of sorts to "Drought" as well.  Takes place in Gondor in the early Fourth Age.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion or The Lord of the Rings

Pairings: Sauron x Celebrimbor

Characters: Celebrimbor, Sauron

Warning: non-canon compliant AU, slash, potential non-con/dub-con, enchantment, mentions of blood and torture, canonical character death, depression/Stockholm Syndrome, possible branding

Song: Etude in E-flat Minor Op. 10 No. 6

Words: 1,177
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ring (noun): a circular line, figure, or object; a circlet usually of precious metal worn especially on the finger
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/ring

Where it started and ended.

Within the cradle of his palm, Telperinquar held it as one holds a vial of poison.  Seemingly tiny yet so very heavy, hot to his flesh as though the golden band were hollowed out with liquid earth and flame.  It was such a simple-looking thing, and were it of the pure metal it appeared it would even have been fragile, prone to bend and dent.  Yet, when he turned it within his hand, he saw the knife's edge of slanted script and knew no amount of violence or destruction would ever mar those sleek letters.

His lover's hand written in iridescent glow across the band.  Perhaps it was not the ring that had started it all, but it was the one that still lingered here, in the end.

The similarities were uncanny and disturbing.  Only once had Telperinquar seen it, the Ring of Power--the One, they called it, in a mockery of sacred affection that left his blood chilled and heart sinking--and he could recall then that it had been large and heavy, molded perfectly about the index finger of a hand he knew was broad and powerful, had felt against his body and bruising his thighs and coaxing forth his cries for more with painful ease again and again.  Then, though, that simple bit of adornment had seemed so innocuous and trivial, perhaps a gift or the trinket of a young smith, filled with sentimental value for all its plainness and simplicity.

Only once had he asked about it, that simple band.  Well, he remembered the smirk upon his lover's face as those eyes had traced across the band affectionately. "It is a trinket I made for myself, a simple bit of sentimental value." A larger hand had grasped Telperinquar's left then, held it up and stroked over his ring finger as those eyes stared into him and left him shivering. "Perhaps one day I shall make you one to match, lover..."

Such a plain little thing, and yet at the time Telperinquar would have cherished such a gift and declaration--unadorned, simple and without enchantment, made by his lover's hand--above even the most powerful of Rings of Power set with the most lovely and rare of gems.  Such a plain little thing would have been his most beloved possession.

Anything but a plain and sentimental old trinket had it been in truth.  For, as he lay choking in his own blood, dying from agony and torment at the feet of the man he loved, Telperinquar recalled being blinded by its flame.  Remembered his eyes being drawn toward the gold flecked with his blood, recalling the whispered promise in the night like a sweet false dream.  Remembered the malicious flash of the script of Mordor etched upon its outer layer for all the world to see--

So that they might all know who their master was.  And the message was meant for Telperinquar more so than any other.

--and remembered how his stomach rebelled and his throat had closed in despair.  It had been as close to crying as he had come, the moment his soul had shuddered and nearly cracked under the pressure and desperation before he had steeled himself against the onslaught of seductive words and wave after wave of agony in his veins.  The single moment where he had considered betraying all his kin and joining the deception that had been Annatar in all his glory.

He had not.  Instead, he had died.  And come back.  Thought nothing would ever come of those soft-spoken words--lies veiled in a smoky haze of lust and charm and enchantment--that slipped past deceptively soft lips and were breathed across his face in the dark.

But Annatar had kept his promise.

Thousands of years later, Telperinquar sat upon his cot and stared at it, the last remainder of years of growing horror and turmoil now silenced in victory and grief.  A simple golden band it appeared to be, but he knew that should he put it upon his hand--he knew it would fit snugly about the ring finger of his right hand, whereupon a dark line cut through pale skin--the words would form in iridescent flame to match those eyes, molten fire opal twisted into the hand of his lover.  Words of love and possession that he had heard spoken aloud hundreds of times, murmured against his ear in the midst of passion or with the hot wind of Mordor upon his face and the barren plains stretched out below...

It was cruel and ironic.  Even though Annatar--even though Sauron--was gone, destroyed and thrown into the Void to rot away into nothingness, he was still here.  Just a little piece of him that would never quite leave Telperinquar alone.  That little part of unholy fire and dominating will that connected them still.  That brought those eyes into his dreams still months after being freed from the fortress of Barad-dûr.  That teased his flesh with the airy memory of caresses and kisses.

That little piece of fire that dared light up those words and draw him into the delusion of that voice speaking them in velveteen tones.  Seducing with their sultry whisper until his knees were weakened to jelly and his will to resist crumbled into dust.

I should destroy it.  Orodruin's eruption had ended, and though the land of Mordor was in tatters, it would not have been a long or arduous journey to the mountain to throw it into the flames.  To join its counterpart, the One, in a liquid grave in the bosom of the earth from whence it had come.

And then Telperinquar would be free of its spell.

But it was, in the end, a Ring of Power.  And Rings of Power had a way of keeping their own safety assured, even at the cost of their bearer's sanity.  This one was no different, no less malicious or cunning or knowing.  No less terrifyingly addictive to the touch and the sight.  Telperinquar felt as though he were upon the brink once more of losing his mind completely.

Could he really end it all?  Throw this simple little trinket away?

Could he wash his hands of Annatar?

Nothing stood in his way.  Nothing but the glint of golden light flashing with heat and fire.  Nothing but the words of love in familiar and beloved opalescent writing.  Nothing but the memory of those glowing eyes and burning kisses.

Nothing but the image of that handsome, genuine smile when his lover looked up at him from beneath thick eyelashes and sighed.  Nothing but the echo of those lips murmuring his name on a cool night beneath the stars in the grass and a warm hand still wrapped about his own, a callused thumb still tenderly tracing up and down his fourth finger longingly.

In the end, nothing barred his way.  And yet, everything.