“I cannot tell of it.”  The mutilated eyes begged him not to press her and her voice was barely audible. “You will hate me…”

“Why should I hate you? Aeglos? Unless you mean…”  

She would not look at him now and he had his answer. So many feelings swept over him he could not speak, did not know what to say, how to react. He felt faint and realised he needed to breathe. In his turn he looked away, feeling that he could not bear to look on her anymore. He almost got up and left her but something stopped him. She made a sound, harsh and guttural and still he refused to turn back until he realised she was crying, once again curled into a bereft, humiliated ball. He knew then that he had to hear what had happened to her and her husband, to their child, no matter what, no matter how hard it was to hear or to tell. Slowly, he turned back to her and spoke as gently as he could.

“Aeglos. Why did Giliathmen want to die and why did you do as he asked?”

“Please no…”

“Listen to me! Aeglos!” Slamming back another wave of revulsion he seized her by the upper arms, wanting to shake her hard, but then he saw her terror again and somehow he managed to rein back his anger and grief. Still holding her tightly he took another deep breath and spoke with more control, knowing now that this killing was not something she had done lightly, however incredible that might seem to him or to any other Elf.

“You have spoken of many things and I can see that whatever you and your mate suffered in this dark god’s fortress was truly terrible. Please – you may not remember me from Cuiviénen, but I remember you and I remember Giliathmen more. You are my kin… Fae… Fae…nelloth! Faenelloth!”

In triumph at last he remembered her name.

“She is dead! She died long, long ago! Please stop… Please.”

She was sobbing uncontrollably now and he flushed with shame at forcing this on her, but he knew the telling was as much for her benefit as for his. Even more so. He loosened his grip slightly and she sagged into him, so he adjusted his grasp further and held her close, so they did not have to look at each other. He waited a little while until she was growing calm and tried again, his voice soft and full of compassion now.

“If she is dead, there are still those who will remember her with honour and love. And the same for Giliathmen. Aeglos? Do you understand? Our people should hear of what became of them, should they not? Especially if they died in horror and pain? Aeglos should tell us what was done to them, how they came to die… and maybe somehow… something can be done?”

Her hair was coarse and lifeless under his hands and he could hardly believe any Elf could be so changed, so corrupted. His skin almost wanted to recoil from where it touched her, yet still he held her, offering silent comfort, knowing she needed help and friendship so much. She was quiet now and he carried on talking.

“Sûlranna thinks that I should take you to Ingwë. That he will know what to do. Or Lord Oromë will.”

He felt her flinch at the name of the leader of the Vanyar, but she made no effort to leave his arms. Slowly now he went on, giving her a chance to respond if she wished.

“They will ask questions of you Aeglos. Many of our kin left when you and Giliathmen did… when Faenelloth and Giliathmen left I mean. I know the telling of their ending must be hard for you… I can see how much it pains you… so this is why I am asking you to tell me now… just the one time… and then, when we go to Ingwë, maybe I can tell of this on your behalf.”

He could feel fresh tears where she shed them on his skin, but she made no other sound. Still he waited and finally she gave a little sigh and spoke softly, haltingly.

“If I tell you… I must tell you all of it… else you may not understand how it was for them. For us… me…”

He smiled, not shifting position as he knew she needed a little space.

“This time I promise I will not interrupt you Aeglos.” He laughed softly. “Well not too much anyway.”

She did not want to tell of this. When they had taken their chance and fled the fortress, she and Giliathmen had not had any real plan beyond getting away as fast and as far as they could. Certainly she had never dreamt of being able to return to the Quendi. They had been pursued at first. Or rather she had been. Females were too rare. Too ‘precious’. Giliathmen’s absence probably had not raised any alarm but hers… Her disappearance had been discovered within a few hours. They had known it would be and so they had made a pact with each other. If it seemed they might be taken prisoner again then they would both die and in such a way that they could not be brought back. She had kept her side of the pledge, even though he could not. But how could she explain this to anyone who had not been there... not known what it was like...

“I will have to start at the beginning then I suppose. Tell you what happened after they left the Lake.”

“Please. Take as long as you need Aeglos.”

She nodded solemnly and tried to arrange her thoughts. This was still difficult for her, though the poisons had long been purged from her body, still she fled from her terrible memories. But Aelial was right. If she was to live with the Quendi again she had to find a way to explain how she had been changed. If these other gods were the wise and strong friends that Nurbor, Aelial and Sûlranna trusted in, then maybe there might be some hope for others in the dark fortress. However strange and futile that sounded. She and Giliathmen had escaped after all. Aeglos thought hard for several moments then took a deep breath and went back to the day the world had fallen apart for her and her former mate…

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

They had been walking for several days. Faenelloth had not wanted to leave the Lake in the first place but Giliathmen and the others had persuaded her that it would be safe to travel north in a large group. The reason she had been so doubtful about setting out was simple. She was heavy with child and knew that it was not long until it was born. Giliathmen truly felt for her, but so many of the Quendi were beginning to disappear from Cuiviénen and there were ill rumours flying everywhere of a Hunter and a Dark Rider. Faenelloth may have been worried about leaving the Lake, but in a way she almost feared staying more, especially as so many of their kin were preparing to leave. And so, in the end she had agreed to go, much to her mate’s relief.

At first hopes were high for new lands where they might be safe from the dangers that seemed to loom large around their old home. Their way seemed easy enough and Faenelloth and Giliathmen were beginning to feel more comfortable in their choice, as they walked through dusky green woodlands and with the great sea still in view. It still seemed familiar territory somehow, but as they left the Lake farther behind and moved ever northwards, the trees started to thin and the lands grew more open. At first Giliathmen had relished the wide expanses of land opening up before them, but as they walked on, some of the Quendi began to feel exposed and vulnerable and the group seemed to want to contract and gather closer together. Some began to murmur about returning to the Lake, but they had agreed to keep together and so they marched onwards.

And then it had happened. The skies had been clouded over and the bright stars were hidden, yet still they had all felt the approach of a greater darkness. Of something or someone evil. First there was a passing of a great shadow in the sky, then on the bare hillsides behind them and finally it was as though there was a great tide of darkness surrounding them and pursuing them across the now vast empty expanse. They had begun to hurry, then to run. Faenelloth, encumbered as she was could not keep up with the others and gradually she and Giliathmen were outpaced and fell behind the rest.

“Do not leave me Gil!” She had called out to him as her legs nearly failed her over a rough patch of ground and she had almost fallen. He slowed his pace to one she could match and clasped her hand more tightly.

“I will never leave you muin nín, but we must keep moving. Please try Fae.” His voice had been tight and strained as he looked over his shoulder…

She had no time to reply and could not remember what had happened next for they had both been enveloped in black and she had lost consciousness for a while. When she came to herself there were wild screams and squeaks coming from several dark creatures that appeared misshapen through the murk, circling all around them. Like no creatures she had ever seen. Gil had been laying over her, as if he was shielding her but he felt heavy. The creatures were closing in on them and she tried to make him move, but he would not. She felt a scream beginning to build inside of her as her hands became sticky with blood as she touched her mate’s head and neck and she realised he was not breathing. Something touched her leg and her scream escaped, strangely muffled in the darkness, but it was enough to drive the strange creature off for a few moments. Their awful shrieking suddenly died away as something else approached them.

Blacker than the blackness she could see it, taller even than the tallest of the Quendi yet thin and stooped, with glowing eyes of fire boring into her. But the worst thing was this new creature’s voice. It was laughing and never had she heard such a cold, cruel sound. Like the grinding of rocks. One of the misbegotten shadow creatures tried to come near her again and there came a cracking sound and the monster fled howling in pain. But not very far. The others were circling them still but the tall being with the fiery eyes came right up to them and bent over her. It was still laughing and Faenelloth instinctively shrank away from it, but to no avail. A dark hand came towards her neck and lifted her up bodily, fingers splayed under her jaw and easily reaching around to the back of her neck, not quite choking her, until her feet were dangling well off the ground and she was struggling in vain. Then it spoke and she went limp with fear as the shadow creatures began their shrilling anew, seemingly in amusement at their master’s words, his breath hot and smoky in her face, the sound harsh and mocking.

“Rest now elleth. Thou shalt not be harmed. Not yet. We have waited for one such as thee for a long time. A long time indeed.”

He began to laugh again as she fainted away. Adjusting his hold on her so she and the child she carried were cradled in his arms he walked unhurriedly back to his winged mount, kicking his minions away as they tried to nip and lick at her.

“Leave her be, worms! She is not for such as thee! Bring the male and bite at him if thou wishest!” Again he laughed, in triumph this time, as he felt the babe move inside the elleth. A female elfling! Oh yes! Here was a prize indeed! “This female is a rare treasure and our Lord will be well pleased with us! Come we must hurry now!”

He bestrode the great winged creature as the thralls jumped onto its huge body  as well, dragging the ellon roughly after them. Giving the command, they disappeared into the darkness once more, rising quickly up into cloudy skies, then hurtling westwards back to their stronghold.

“I am as eager as thyself to see this pairing restored my Lord. I will let nothing go wrong, I assure thee.”

“Then see to it that they mate and as soon as possible. And I want the ellon in transition once they do bond satisfactorily…”

He tailed off as another thought occurred. One that was almost elegant in its cruelty. He began to laugh but stopped after a few moments. This was important and he did not want his chief servant in any doubt as to what he required.

“If it worries thee that the elleth will reject the advances of her mate in his early stages of thraldom, then let her observe thee as thou administer the draught unto him.”

“My Lord? Dost thou think that wise?”

“If she hath seen the transition with her own eyes, then she will have no doubts as to thy powers, or that the ellon who was her mate has been changed and revived by thy offices. In that she must be clear, Sauron – that her mate’s existence and her own art dependant upon thy ‘beneficence’… and upon thy will. Use that to bend them both to our purpose.”

“My Lord is wise. It shall be done as thou wish.”

“Just see to it. I will brook no more delays to my design and desire for dominance of these Quendi, and all other creatures that live on this world. I have waited too long already. This time I will accept no more failure… in any of my servants.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

They sat there for a long time, not talking at all. Giliathmen held her still after she had calmed and she made no move away from him. His presence comforted her, although she still felt strange. She knew her memory had been afflicted in some way, but she was hesitant to try to think too hard about it. Her instinct told her that to do so would be too painful. Finally he made the choice for her.

“Our child… is dead too?”

His voice sounded a little more animated and he shifted his position to face her more, so his arm moved to her waist and his hand left hers and went to rest lightly on her now empty belly. She did not move or resist his touch, but began to shiver again and her voice shook a little as she tried to reply.

“Yes… No… I do not know. I am sorry.”

“She has gone. He took her… I am sure.”

“Maybe… I cannot remember.”

And she did not. Truly she did not. But she knew for sure she did not want to remember what had happened.

Time passed and they were still sat together, holding hands now, without any need or desire to talk. The door to the cell was opened and a thrall appeared bearing two beakers of some dusty yellow liquid. The twisted grey-skinned creature cackled hoarsely as he set the beakers on the floor in front of them but said nothing as he left as abruptly as he had arrived. As one they both reached out and raised a beaker to their mouths. She drank down the yellow brew quickly, though spluttering a little at the taste. Giliathmen took a few mouthfuls, but then brought his other hand up and with an effort pulled the beaker away from his lips, spilling most of what was left onto his thighs and then cast the vessel onto the stone floor, as her beaker fell from her suddenly numb hand as he called out to her...

“Do not drink it!”

The ellon’s voice rang out in the chamber, but he was too late for she had already finished the foul drink.

“Hmm? Tastes nasty… had to…”

She sighed softly and wobbled slightly so he turned towards her to steady her, holding onto both her shoulders. She felt too warm and her head flopped forward, then over to rest against his cheek. He had to hold her tight as she sagged into his arms.

“Are you tired? Fae?”

He breathed in sharply, shaking his head as he felt his own thoughts clouding once more, but there was something else too. A feeling that drew him to her, made him want to hold her closer yet. She sighed again, her breath cool on his cheek though her forehead was blazing hot. He took another deep breath and she stirred, her hand coming up and brushing against his shoulder. He moved his own hand and caught and held her fingers against his chest as it began to slip down. Something was wrong, but he felt so confused. It was the drink he was sure of it - and she had drunk all of hers…

“You should not… have drunk… Fae?”

Before he could finish, she moved her head slightly and her lips brushed his face, trailing a beguiling well-remembered heat. Her hand moved back up and curled itself around his neck and then it was as though all conscious thought slid away from him as the memories cascaded back into his mind. Of nights under the brilliant stars and the loving warmth of mutual desire. Slowly he turned his face towards hers and looked into her eyes which glowed like red-hot coals for him now. She whispered soft to him now, her voice still fuzzy with the fiery poison they had both been fed.

“Want you… Gil…”

He was awash with longing for her now, as his own heat was fanned by the smaller amount of the drug he had also taken, bombarding him with bewildering, alluring visions of how it had been for them when they still lived. Slowly his lips moved against hers as he pushed her back onto the bench, the glittering fire in his own red eyes blazing into hers now.

“You are still my mate!”

His own voice was rough with fever as the depraved poison swept them both away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

He had felt a moment’s panic when the male had not taken all of the potion, but as the Vala had said, this one’s fëa was strong and it was evidently enough as the female succumbed more readily to the poison. He turned to the four old thralls. They were all ancient and practically useless as his will pulled them upright and gave them their orders.

They will sleep now. Bring them both to me – unharmed.

They had been returned to the cell they had occupied before. Giliathmen was alive but very still and silent, apart from breathing steadily and deeply, lying on the wide bench where the thralls had set him down. The Demon had escorted them back, keeping Faenelloth under his will the whole time, laughing scornfully at her struggles to escape his terrible pronouncements on what was happening to her spouse and what would happen to her. By the time they had arrived at the cell and he had released her, she had fallen to the floor in a sobbing heap and had stayed like that for a long time after he and the loathsome thralls had left them.

She had finally gone into a dreamless sleep, stopping every memory that floated before her mind for it was either too beautiful and happy for her to bear, or because it was too terrible to recall, because it was all to do with what had happened to them over the last few days. Since they had left the lake in fact. And so she slept and warded all dreams away from her tortured, exhausted mind.

“Fae? Are you there?” He jumped at the sound of his voice, rasping and hoarse, but he could not move. She was here, he could sense her, but she was very quiet. Again he tried and failed to move any part of his body.

“Fae!” He panicked and shouted her name.

“Gil?” Her voice was sleepy and he remembered some more of what had happened in that other place. “Oh Gil… how do you feel?” She pulled herself off the floor and knelt beside the bench, looking cautiously at his face, trying not to recoil as she had done back in the Chamber of Transformation when the Demon had made her look at what he had done to her mate.

“I cannot move. What happened?” There was something wrong. She was looking at him strangely.

“He said you would not be able to move much at first – but that you will recover fully.”

“He? The Demon?” What was the matter with his voice? It was cracked and horrible.

Faenelloth nodded miserably. Slowly she put a pallid hand on his forehead, stroking the rough greyish skin, wanting to weep at what had been done to her once handsome mate, but she had no more tears left in her. She looked sadly into his dulled red eyes and they at least were still his in shape and expression, if not in colour.

“They did something to you Gil. Can you see me?”

“Yes… I think I can move my fingers now Fae? My right hand…”

She turned to look and sure enough saw his fingers moving slightly. She reached out and held his hand in hers, gently avoiding the claws that now grew in place of his nails.

“Then the Demon did not lie.”  She paused a moment, then got up and sat down beside him on the edge of the bench, still holding his hand. It felt hot still, but was much cooler than it had been earlier. She had thought he would burn her he was so hot. “Gil… you will be able to move soon I think. Would you like me to tell you what happened now?”

He blinked and tried to nod but could not, so instead squeezed her hand. She flinched a little.

“I am sorry – did I hurt you?”

She smiled at him and shook her head, not wanting to worry him too soon. He had only scratched her a little and the bleeding would soon stop.

“I can smell blood… What happened Fae – tell me?”

His eyes were pleading and she could not deny him.

“Do you remember the Demon made me give you a drink?”

“Yes and he made me drink it all... and then… he went? He brought our daughter to us too! She still lives Fae! Fae?”

She shook her head slowly. He remembered some of it obviously. Maybe he would remember all of it in time. So she would tell him all of it now she decided. Before they were drugged again and forgot it all. The Demon had meant to be cruel in what he told her of the ‘life’ that would be hers now and she had no illusions that she would do everything he told her. She would have no choice but to do so. But she would never do it willingly. Never. Even if she died, except that did not matter in the slightest of course. They would not let her stay dead for long. So she kept holding her mate’s hand and spoke gently to him.

“She does not live Gil. She is like us. She is dead. The Demon… he is powerful. He can make the dead live again. Our daughter was dead Gil… Can you remember what he said in that place… What she did when he held her out to me?”

“I… am not sure Fae. My mind was in a fog. He told lies about you – that I do know.”

“No he did not my love.” Her voice was very quiet now but she held his gaze. “He spoke the truth. Our daughter screamed at me, remember? Said she hated me?

“That was him! Hurting her! I wanted to kill him!”  His eyes blazed bright red at her and he drew fresh blood from her hand. This time she did not flinch. Instead she shook her head again and carried on, her voice still quiet and steady, though her eyes also began to flicker with hatred.

“Yes! Kill him... but he is too strong for us Gil. And he was telling the truth. Do you remember? What I said afterwards… after he took her away?

“No… Yes - a little. But I thought I was dreaming? You said you had to… follow me?”

She nodded and smiled grimly.

“Follow you into death, yes. They killed you. He was going to take her Gil – take her away from me. Do terrible things. So we had to follow you… both of us. But he had already taken her away from me… even before she was born. She refused the bond… would not talk to me… would not come with me. So I had to kill her myself…”

His grip was getting tighter and he was drawing more and more blood now, but still she would not take her hand away from him. He was still her mate and he had to know what had been done to her. Done to all three of them.

“I could not follow you until she had been born… to make sure she would come with me. And so I birthed her… and then I strangled her. And then I followed her and you too… but you were not there. Because he had made you live again. And he did the same with me. And he must have done the same with our baby, Gil.”

He felt he did not want to draw another breath, but he kept on breathing. Her words sliced through him a hundred times and he felt his strength returning with an uncontrollable rage. This was confusing for he was angry with Faenelloth, but that was as nothing to the fury he felt for the Demon…

“STOP! No more!”  

His roar echoed around the little room and she tried to get away from him now, but he held her too fast and now his arm could move as well. He pulled her back to him and in doing so brought his hand into his line of vision. Again he cried out, this time in shock and let her go so suddenly that she stumbled to the floor.

He brought his… hand…? closer to his face. This - was his hand? The skin was no longer the pallid colour it had been after his life was taken. Now it was a light grey colour. It seemed bigger… more muscular… He was turning it from side to side, looking at it in horror. As though it did not belong to him. There were claws that had been his nails at the end of the fingers. And blood. Fae’s blood. He had smelt it.

“No!” Still his voice crackled, coarse and horrible. He could feel his blood pounding in his veins and the feeling returning to his other arm, his legs, his neck… And still the rage was pulsing in his head and gave another roaring cry of pain and anger, hauling himself into a sitting position and swinging his legs over so his feet touched the stony floor.

Faenelloth has been watching him with a mixture of terror and triumph. His poor ruined face still held some of his characteristics in repose at any rate. He was still her mate and always would be, but he was also a fiercesome, hideous creature now. His rage was in a way magnificent and fit his new obscenely warped body. His back was slightly bowed, the arms now heavily muscled and longer somehow, more powerful. His thighs were like young tree-trunks, but the knees turned outwards more, his calves bulging to match those of his thighs. His feet, like his hands seemed larger and bore sharp claws. When he roared out his rage she gasped as she saw his teeth… sharper… the canines now more like the fangs of some predator. And then he was standing and coming for her. She was frozen and he scooped her up easily, placing her on her feet and holding her tightly by her upper arms, his claws again drawing more blood as they dug into her.

He gazed furiously into her face, breathing hard, yet holding back his full wrath, knowing she was not responsible for these… awful… terrible changes wrought upon him. But she had killed their child. Admitted it openly. If he could only think clearly, but it was so hard.

“Gil!” Her voice was tiny and she could barely speak for fear. “You can kill me if you want. I deserve it - I know. But… they would have killed her anyway. He told me they would have… but they let me do it instead – because… ahhh!”

He slammed her onto the stone bench and she hit her head hard against the wall, losing consciousness for a few moments. Giliathmen was beyond reason and screamed at her, even though she could not hear him.

“SHUT UP! I do not want to hear you! I cannot think!”

She moaned as she came to and tried to sit up, but slipped farther onto the bench, shaking with the shock. He was trying hard to control the urge to batter her further. There was something important. A reason why he should not kill her. She had slumped forward slightly and he saw more blood seeping through her white hair. The blood was wrong. Nearly black. That was not right. He looked down at his hands again. Her blood on them was wrong too. Fighting for control now he made himself breathe deeply.

“They want us to make more babies for them Gil.” She had to tell him now. Make him see. So she gasped the words quickly, willing him to let her speak.

“They have taken our daughter away from us – made her hate us – hate me. But they still want our other babies as well. I do not know why. But they will not let us be dead. Not you. Not me… so kill me if you want. They will not care. They will just make me live again… over and over…”

She stopped at last, breathless and still shocked at his violent reaction for they had never before shown any anger physically to each other. But she had killed her own daughter in a travesty of love, trying to protect her… This is your punishment for that… she told herself silently, Gil will make you pay for what you did… Fearfully she looked up at the furious creature who had been her spouse.

He had listened to her in silence, but the effort it cost him was evident as the veins throbbed in his temples and his hands balled into fist, his claws now drawing dark blood from his own flesh. Her words made little sense to him, but he could see she was telling him the truth.

It was the Demon behind it all. He told himself that over and over. He knew he and Fae were both dead, yet lived again for some strange diabolical reason. She tried to sit up again but her arms were shaking. He reached out and helped her upright, his hands leaving bloody marks on her dirty torn tunic.

“I am sorry Gil… I thought you were dead and I did not know what else to do… He did something to her… when he first took us…”

Her voice was weak and shaky and this also made him rant and scream, but not at her. Mostly he was angry with himself now.

“Do not talk anymore Fae. I must think, but it is so hard.”

He sighed and sat down beside her, leaning his head back against the wall. She was leaning forward, her head in her hands. He looked over at her and saw the blood on the back of her head again. There was a lot. Too much... His bestial new hands reached and gently started to move her hair aside. The back of her tunic was soaked with dark blood and he felt a lump in his throat, as he began to look for the actual wound. She groaned and brought her own hand up to feel how much damage there was.

“The blood is starting to dry now.” He spoke softly as she turned to face him, her face even paler and so sad. “I should not have thrown you down so hard. Forgive me?”

She nodded slightly and reached out for his hand again. He saw claw marks, his marks on her skin and brought his other hand over to gently cover hers.

“What have they done to me Fae? I do not want to be like this.”

“I know. I know Gil. I do not want to live like this either. A living death.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

This is quite interesting Sauron. Their pair bond seems to be supporting them both to a surprising degree - and the male is a superb specimen as thou hath said. But I want them mating again as soon as may be. Thou hast one day to discover how much to dose them – sedatives or stimulants as required - and then I wilt see to them myself.

My Lord? I thought thou wished to spend as much time as thou couldst with our little Queen. I can see to her parents myself.

Thou hast more pressing duties. I wish for thee to travel into the east again. The band of Quendi thou found this pair with had many females didst thou not report?

Indeed my Lord… but surely with these two…?

Do not question me Sauron! We still need females and maybe there were more mated pairs besides these two… Go and find out, and if there are… then bring them back here as well. We must seize every opportunity now we can to breed mates fit for our little Queen… her lesser siblings will need mates of their own too in time…

My Lord Melkor is always wise. I will make my preparations swiftly.

Aelial could no longer hold back and he wept with her now, holding her very close as her pain became unbearable for she could barely speak of what had happened to them. Both Giliathmen and Faenelloth had done terrible, unforgivable things and yet… And yet… The inevitability and consequences of what had been done to them, what they had had to endure, had a logic and rightness to them that he was beginning to at least understand and perhaps would even condone soon enough.  And this poor creature he still felt no real kinship for - he now held to him as gently as he would hold his wife, his children.

He had dearly loved Giliathmen, the closest of his brothers, though latterly they had spent far less time together once Aelial had met and mated Sûlranna, who was of the Telerí. Their fraternal bond was still strong indeed and precious to him, lamenting in their separation until this very day. As Aeglos gradually told of the obscene changes wrought on Giliathmen, he had not wanted to believe her and had drawn back from her. But as she had told of how she had been there when this vile Demon Lord had unmade his brother and turned him into some crude beast who lashed out in his madness and rage even at one he had sworn to love forever, he was filled with doubt and sorrow. And yet… she too had done an unspeakable thing to their child. The whole business was warped into unimaginable wickedness, but here was Faenelloth, or rather Aeglos, so strange and so pitiable in her terrible ruin and remorse that he had forced from her, by demanding she tell her history and finally he found he could no longer reject her. She had literally crumbled in front him, speaking in broken, keening tones of how she and Giliathmen had faced their plight and could only chose death for themselves, and for the doomed child they had been coerced and manipulated into conceiving.

“Your words wound me so much Aeglos and yet I know the truth in them. Accept them. I accept you as well.”

Their shared grief had quietened now. She was still weeping softly and he would not let her go, needed to hold her and at last affirm his support and empathy, for that was all he could give her now.

“You were Giliathmen’s mate and I honour you for that without any hesitation now. You are still my kin, however much you have been changed by what was done to you, and to my poor brother.”

He knew she could not answer now, but she clung to him and he kissed the top of her head which brought more tears, but he knew why for he had seen Giliathmen do the same the few times he had seen him with Faenelloth. Aelial spoke again in the same quiet, calm, sad voice, almost fearing to ask more of her, but needing to know the end of his brother’s story and knowing that she too needed to tell of it. At least this once.

“You have told enough of what befell you both in that awful place, but can you bear to tell me of what happened later on? How you got away? And what happened to Gil?

She said nothing for a long while and he would not press her. Knowing now how much it hurt her to have to remember, why she had been so wild and frightened even to do something as simple as sharing a family meal…

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

That had been the end of their defiance for a very long time, but not of their hatred. As she lay in their cell, knowing utter defeat and despair, all that kept Faenelloth from ending this travesty of a second life once more was the thought of what would be done to Giliathmen as well as herself if she died now, taking this unwelcome, unloved scrap of life with her.

Lying there abandoned on the cold floor she wept until she was dizzy with exhaustion and dehydration, then, remembering the Demon’s parting words she scrabbled her way to the bucket of tainted water in a panic and drank until she lost consciousness. That was when her true madness began as she spent long months alone in a darkness of the mind and soul, if not in fact. She saw nobody except the thrall who came to her with her food and water and he never spoke or even looked at her. Even the drugs in her drinking water ceased to be a blessing as her pregnancy progressed and they deemed that there was risk to the unwanted life she carried inside her body without affection or care. Most days she lay in her own filth in misery, not even granted oblivion as she felt the creature within her growing strong, mocking her own and Giliathmen’s will. She thought about her mate constantly, but not as he had been before their capture for that was too painful. She wondered how badly he had been damaged and whether his undoubted raising back to life had caused him more hurt. Most of all she worried that he would forget her and how it had been, what had happened to them. She dreaded their promised reconciliation as much as she desired it.

Her time came at last and she took some comfort as she delivered her infant chimera, this time in the presence of the Demon, that soon she would be reunited with Giliathmen. The Demon of course took much delight in torturing her further as he took the furiously squealing baby up in triumph, narrowly avoiding having his finger bitten.

“Thou hast done well elleth. This little imp is most promising and he shall soon be joined by others. He may even serve his sister if he does well. She is looking forward to having some playmates.”

He looked at the undead Elf maliciously, his fiery eyes glittering. She was completely cowed despite only being under the lightest of control of his own mind and had been taking no soporific drugs whatsoever for some months now. Yet still she hated him thoroughly. Sauron’s smile was sly as his mind slipped into the infant’s and he rejoiced in the mish-mash of fear and anger he found there. That would change soon enough he thought as he ruthlessly compelled the little orch into unconsciousness for a while. The conditioning would begin soon enough.

“A pity thou cannot watch over her progress, but she will not suffer thy presence near her. She likes thy mate well enough however, so I will leave him to tell thee of what she is doing.”

He laughed and decided to tell her a little more of her mate’s recent history

“He will be back with thee in a little while, but not just yet. When last he died – a week ago, he was quite badly injured and we would not like thee to be taxed with nursing him at present as thou art also in need of rest and recuperation. After all… we need both of thee in good health before thou canst breed for us again. Speaking of which…”

He took a frothing beaker from one of the thralls and handed it to her.

“Thou must drink this – thou hast lost a lot of blood in this birthing.”

He smiled as she drank the blood warm, foul-tasting brew without a word or hesitation.

 I congratulate both of thee on the spirit and strength of thy youngest child. This bodes well for the other little soldiers thou shalt bear for us in the future. Thy mate will join thee in a few days time, have no fear. Until then we will restore the potions that soothe and take away thy memories. Consider this as a… restoration of thy ‘privileges’ on completion of this task. But remember what will happen if thou attempteth to thwart our plans again. That will not be tolerated.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

She had no real knowledge of how long it was before Giliathmen rejoined her for she had sunk herself in blessed forgetfulness, hardly pausing to take food before greedily drinking herself into unconsciousness once more. He was simply there when she woke and he knew her too. She fell sobbing into his arms and they simply held each other for a long time before they could talk with any sense.

“You remember everything?” She could hardly believe he was essentially unchanged in his ways, but there were new scars all over his body and when they finally loosed their embrace enough she saw his body was more stooped, though he was as strong and well-muscled as before.

“Everything yes. Including not to drink too much of their devil water. But I have learned the futility of defying them as well.”

He sighed and looked deep into her eyes, wondering how much she had suffered whilst they were separated. She was very dirty, but then so was he. That did not matter so much as the dull look in her eyes which he knew was due to the soporifics. He did not blame her for taking them. He had done so himself at first each time they had revived him. But he had been shocked at how thin she was and the frightened look she had, even with him once she had finally woken from the too deep sleep.

“The Demon… He said you had seen our daughter Gil…?”

He nodded slowly. “She is… growing fast.”

It was all he could think of to say to her. She was looking at him with a terrible hunger in her eyes and he hardly knew what to say for whatever he did would most likely devastate her.

“What is she like? Does she still hate me? Or remember me?” His heart nearly broke for his mate as her voice was tiny and so afraid.

“She is beautiful Fae – like you…” He paused, postponing the moment he had been rehearsing in his head since they had raised him again several days ago. But she had to know and then she could relinquish all hope for their lost child forever.

“They have poisoned her mind, Fae. She remembers you well enough. She even wishes to see you again one day… so she can have her revenge on you.”

Faenelloth could hardly breathe as Giliathmen held her close and told her over and over how sorry he was.

“Revenge? Then she does hate me still.” Her voice shook but she was too shocked to cry yet.

“She feels nothing for you now. Or for me. She only loves the Demon and the Great One.”

“But he said that she liked you? Who is the Great One?

”Worse than the Demon – he fears him I think. But our daughter has no fear of either of them and they both dote on her. Give her almost anything she wishes for. So they gave me to her – to play with. And yes – she does like me. In a way…”

Slowly he began to explain his mate exactly what ‘playing’ with their daughter entailed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“No! No! NOOOOOO! Give him back to me!”

“Baugbereth – my little love! Calm yourself please!”

Sauron was at a loss as to what to do now.  She was impossible at present and he was beginning to regret giving in to her ‘request’ for her bearer’s mate to come and ‘play’ with her. This was the third time she had damaged him and this time was worst of all, as the thrall had died of smoke inhalation before he had been able to extinguish the flames. Thankfully – and he used the word more in trepidation than accuracy in her case these days – the burns on his thighs had not been too bad, for tissue regeneration was extremely difficult once the draughts had been administered… If he had not come as soon as he had, then they may have had to discard the thrall altogether, had his capacity to breed been impaired. Even Melkor had agreed that their magnificent child have gone too far and that this particular thrall must be kept away from her in future.

He felt her trying to assail his mind, to crush and grind his will to hers and he felt a surge of pride mixed with revulsion at how far she had come. Only a little over a year old and she had already begun to master the powers of the mind Melkor had bestowed upon her. He had had mixed feelings about that, after his lord had started to show an idle interest in his child’s progress, and this had formed part of his own reluctance to leave Utumno when he had been ordered back on the hunt for more mated pairs of Quendi for their breeding programme. By the time he returned the deed had been done and his little queen no longer needed him to magnify and translate her thoughts and worse, had gained a measure of his own and Lord Melkor’s ability to manipulate and compel obedience in lesser minds.

If it had been any of the other thralls that she wished to ’play’ with it would not have mattered so much, but as soon as she had asked for ‘Giliathmen’ – she had even known his true name after her spying on her true parents – Sauron had feared the worst and now it had happened. He had been in time to save the former ellon from the flames, but by the time he had got him away from the child, Melkor had heard the commotion and so great was his anger Sauron had actually had to beg for Baugbereth’s life and had nearly failed in that. Having averted that at least, Melkor had still taken the child and had nearly ripped her tiny mind apart, literally putting the fear of their god into her because of her malicious little game. And he could do nothing, had had to watch from afar as his lord terrorised their precious little queen into abject submission.

Except he had not. Baugbereth was terrified of Melkor now, but she also hated him and what was more she knew that he did too. He had hidden this even from himself, afraid that his Lord would see and destroy him. And anyway that was futile for he knew he could keep nothing from Melkor who actually revelled in the ambivalence and so his hatred went hand in hand with a profane love that Melkor had twisted and warped until Sauron was helpless in his loyalty. But not Baugbereth. His prize. The only child of his heart and, he was just beginning to realise, his one selfless love. And now he had had to tell her she could not have her plaything back ever. He tried to explain it to her and had thought he had succeeded but today she had wanted ‘her’ Giliathmen and now she was throwing a tantrum that threatened to bring Melkor’s wrath down on them yet again…

“Want him back NOW mother!”

Her lovely little face frowned prettily at Sauron as she slyly slipped into his thoughts and nestled there appealingly, barely able to rein back her fury and irritation. Oh what a child they had created! She truly was the epitome of the name she had chosen for herself – a queen so cruel one had to love her for her audacity, even as she mocked you and attempted to crush any opposition to her will. A few more years and she would be a match for Melkor yet he thought.  His mind sighed but his face remained unmoved. This time he would not give in to her. Some things she had to learn and they were not strong enough to cross Melkor. Well she was not, and he had not the will. He would not risk her for such a trifle as this. She could have other toys.

“Thou cannot have him back ever my dear. I explained it to thee, remember? And please my love, try not to scream or else Lord Melkor will be angry with us again.”

“But WHY not Sauron? Giliathmen makes me laugh!”

She pouted and summoned tears to her eyes, knowing he hated it when she cried and would do anything to appease her. Nearly always. She was watching him carefully and realised she would not win this time. But then she saw something else in his mind and she let a little crystal tear fall then smiled sadly at the Demon she called mother.

“Want someone else to play with then! Need somebody to make me laugh because thou dost not and Lord Melkor is too horrible to me.”

“All the thralls are too scared to play with thee now – who else is there my treasure?”

“The thralls are stupid! And boring! What about the little orchling thou wert talking to Lord Melkor about? If he is my brother then he has to play with me does he not?” Her jet dark eyes bored into the Demon’s, though her voice was sweet as honey.

“In time Baugbereth my dear. All in good time.” He smiled at her as he gently picked her up and set her on his knee. “He is too small and must grow a little before he is strong enough for thee to play with properly. I have a better idea for thee, as thou seemeth to like playing with flames so much lately. Hast thou seen my friends the Balrogs…?”

“Ooooo! Will they make me laugh?”

“I think they may my pet. But I think I must come with thee at first and we had best play outside perhaps. It would not do to set our home on fire now would it?”

“I suppose…”

He smiled at her and tried not to see the thought shining in her mind that she thought she had hidden from him.

“One day I shall set Lord Melkor on fire!”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“She made you set fire to yourself? I do not believe it – she is too little… how could she do that?”

Faenelloth could not believe her ears. But then she looked at Gil’s thighs and saw the marks left by the burns and she knew he was truthful. Yet still she shook her head.

“You said yourself the Demon did something to her before she was born. Now she can talk properly, but she still talks with her mind as well – like the Demon and the Great One. The Dark God. And like them she made me do things I did not wish to. She laughed as I was burning and said I was funny when I screamed with the pain.”

“They are making her do it then. She could not hurt you so – surely not? Not purposefully…? Gil?”

He looked at her sadly and took her hand in his, stroking it gently, keeping his claws well away from her skin.

“Neither of them were present. When they heard me yelling the Demon came, but I do not remember what happened after that. The smoke. I think he must have put the flames out. I woke in the Chamber of Transformation so I suppose I must have died again.”

Again she held her breath, then expelled it in a rush.

“He said you had died – when the orch was born…”

“Orch?”

“What he called that one I bore… His truths are always so painful. Maybe you are right – they have made her cruel… like they are… Oh Gil – this is all my fault…”

“No – not yours Fae. Never yours. Do not think that! This is his doing and the Dark God’s. They have made her this way. She is cruel. That is her name – Baugbereth. The cruel queen. She told me she chose the name herself. She told me to give you a message as well.”

He had thought he would not tell her this, but she needed to know because one day she might need the strength and he might not be around to help her. Yet still he hesitated.

“What message?”

“She said one day she would have the power to kill you every day for eternity. I am sorry Fae. She is lost to us.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

“They took everything from us Aelial. Stripped us of our lives and took all and any hope from us. All of us. It was not just Giliathmen and I. There were many of us. They even took our bodies and crushed our will. I know I do not look so very different now, but you know it all the same do you not? And for the ellons the changes were too great and they became ‘Yrch’. Goblins. Daugs - soldiers of the Dark God and his Demon Lord. And I… and the other elleths who were taken – we were their mothers, their breeding stock for the first generation…”

She moved away from him slightly so she could look up at him. He could only meet her eyes for a few moments before he had to look away. She smiled sadly at him and leant her head into his neck again so he did not have to look at her.

“It is alright Aelial. I know how different I am now. Nurbor meant to be kind, but there is no way for me to be with the Quendi anymore. They changed me too much – I cannot eat the same food as you any more. If I have a fëa still it must be corrupted beyond saving now I think. I have sinned so badly - killed… murdered my own child… and allowed… abom… abominations to be born of me…”

She was crying again and he could not stand any more for the moment so he spoke over her until she stopped.

“Please! Aeglos… please stop. Hush my dear… my poor dear, be still I beg you.”

Very deliberately he moved so he could look at her again, though he still held her close to him. This time he held her gaze and spoke gently, from the heart, his eyes never leaving those tortured red eyes.

“Yes you have changed, and Gil was changed… But that was not your choice was it? None of it. Even the choices you made… even killing your poor little baby was something you were driven to because of those… evil beings…”

He was breathing hard, his voice becoming angry and he had to stop himself because he could see the fear in her eyes growing not diminishing and he could not heap more pain and humiliation on her now. He willed himself into calm

“I am sorry. But you are still Quendi - you are my dear. I hear it in your voice and see it in your tears and none of this is truly your fault. It was never of your choosing Fae… Aeglos. You are Aeglos now. Hold to that my dear. Faenelloth died in that place. Aeglos got away. She was brave and strong and she escaped – didn’t she?”

She broke eye contact by bowing her head and evaded his hand beneath her chin as he tried to coax her back up.

“I killed Giliathmen.” She whispered it, staring at the ground again. “I killed my mate. He wanted me to… but I still did it. He needed to die where they could never bring him back again.”

Again Aelial felt the urge to shake her but this time he pulled back into his arms, holding her gently, kissing the top of her head again and he spoke softly to her.

“Tell me then. Just tell me. Then we will go to Ingwë and see how he judges it. I will never desert you now. Not now. None of this was your fault.”

They were soaring high above Utumno when she screamed her triumph to the world, her mind amplifying it into a shout that would be heard by any Ainur within a thousand miles or more of the fortress.

Melkor is Lord of creation!

Her voice rang with elation and vengeance for she knew that at least one Vala was abroad whilst their Lord had been teaching her some new skills. Whether he knew it or not…

“BAUGBERETH!” Sauron’s voice unenhanced and shocked to the core called out as their winged mounts turned towards Angband and sped like arrows into the west. “What art thou about?! Thou wilt betray our position!”

“What if I have!” She yelled back completely unconcerned though without the amplification this time. “There is nothing for them to find now! Nothing that need worry US anyway”

“Art thou MAD!? Melkor cannot move the rest of the spirits out of there so fast – what if they….”

He had reached out with his own awareness, barely less sensitive than Melkor’s and he felt them – the others far, far away, close to the Lake still, but also to the west as well. He knew they would have heard her, could already feel their minds reaching out towards himself and Baugbereth – but most of all for Melkor. In desperation he hastily spun a spell of concealment about them and their winged mounts, thralls and all and could only hope he was in time, as his own mind echoed back on him within the inviolable cocoon he had erected about them. This time his thought lashed out in anger towards his still revelling daughter.

What hast thou done child! They heard thee!

She said nothing, only laughed wildly with glee and he knew she had betrayed their Lord deliberately.

Thou hast better pray that they find him before he finds thee Baugbereth – he wilt destroy thee! And I shall be powerless to stop him!

Nay, father! I bear the future within me now and he will do NOTHING! He will need us more than ever! Again she laughed, replete in her victory. “And if they do take him first – why then we are free of him - for once and for all!

We shall see. But my heart tells me that thou shalt regret this deed bitterly some day, Baugbereth.

He shut his mind to her, angry with her and with himself too, for not realising how deep her hatred went.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

His mind was dark with despair now. Melkor had been taken for sure. There could be no doubt of that. Time after time Sauron’s mind had reached out towards Utumno whenever he had dared make the attempt, and now it had become obvious that neither Melkor nor any of his servants were left alive there. There had been one last cataclysmic crashing, where he had had no need to use his mind powers to ascertain the cause for the percussion of the clash of bodies and wills of his Lord and of Tulkas had been felt here in Angband and the after-shocks of their fighting had gone on for days afterwards. But ever since then he had not been able to sense Melkor anywhere in Middle Earth, or indeed any other of the Ainur, save Oromë who had passed over Angband a few hours afterwards and circled all around there for several days whilst he, Baugbereth and their charges could only cower, keeping as quiet as they knew how, hidden in the depths of once proud fortress that the Valar had previously smashed their way through, looking for him and the other spirits they must have known had been allied to Melkor.

Baugbereth, Gothmog and the other Balrogs had looked on him in scorn as he demanded their obedience and finally brought his far superior will down on the fire-spirits, forcing them into silence and quiescence when the accursed spirits of Aman had come against Angband in force, determined to destroy all of Melkor’s works in Endor. But they had seen his wisdom as the Valar and their Maiar, greater and lesser, had all but torn apart the upper stronghold and deemed that they had destroyed all of their dread master’s works. Now finally they knew his way, steeped in stealth and cunning had saved them all and, for now at least, he had them where he needed them to be. In awe of his power and under his sway.

All except Baugbereth, though she accepted his leadership with what he hoped was admiration and gratitude. She had been incandescent in her triumph when they had arrived in Angband and Melkor had not followed them, already under siege and fighting for his life. As soon as she had joined him in gathering the remnants of the thralls and captive Quendi to leave Utumno, he had known that she was too far gone in the need for vengeance on their lord this time. She had been covered in bites and rends, her eyes glittering like faceted jet, lit with lava, in malice and outrage at Melkor’s merciless assault and mauling. Her mind however had been in darkness, though he was able to sense an odd trailing of excitement and jubilation during that dash to the relative safety of Angband. The reason for that he had already guessed, but he had still been stunned at the change in his darling foster child as her pregnancy became irrefutable. Something more than lust and subjugation had passed between her and Melkor after he had been ordered away, for she held herself now with supreme confidence and assurance in her burgeoning power and creative potency.  

She had already been manipulating the gestation as they fled from Utumno he realised now, and so he was not surprised that she had agreed quite quickly to their lying hidden in the deepest vault of the western fortress, for her belly had already swollen and she was now only days away from giving birth. He had seen the brood she was carrying. Twenty orchling, ten male and ten female. She said their growth spurt would continue after birth as well and that her progeny would be mature enough to mate in only five or six years. The potential for the breeding programme was almost heady in its precipitous elegance and they had already started to plan her future matings with the unrelated males of their first generation. She assured him that they would also be able to manipulate the reproductive abilities of all the female yrch, including her full sisters, so that they also would be able carry and deliver large broods in a similar time span, which she was already saying could be foreshortened even more if they had need to increase the pace of their breeding.

“We will have no need of our breeding thralls and their mates now, dear father.”

He had expected this too and so was ready for her in this latest sign of her arrogance and pride, just before she delivered her first children.

“Maybe not, but they will still have their uses should we need to reintroduce a less diluted strain of Quendi attributes in our matured population. Do not forget that mental integrity is compromised in the male thralls and we have already seen that this may manifest as instability in our first generation in both genders. Not in thee of course for thou wert born with no such impairments – pure and intact, then refined and perfected my dear Baugbereth. I am hoping that these first yrchlings of thine own line will have no such defects, but it is always wise to have a failsafe in these progenerative matters. Who knows, we may yet find a way to mitigate this weakness of intellect caused by multiple raisings.”

He had given her pause with this response and she reminded herself that she still had much to learn from her demon father who, unlike Melkor treated her as an equal and much appreciated helpmate. Even if he was not as powerful as their now vanquished and incarcerated former lord, Sauron was in some respects his superior, for his mind was more investigative and rational, less prone to hubris and impulse and far more patient and calculating. Traits she had observed benefited and learned from over the years.

“As always thy counsel is wise, but perhaps their usefulness in breeding should be left in abeyance until we see how this new generation fares? Maybe their role should become more… ‘nurturing’?”

“Ah my Baugbereth, how I wish I could believe that thy intentions were purely practical. However that doth not mean we should not do this, for the idea itself is meritorious. I think thine own parents services however had best be assigned away from thee? They hath always been superlative breeding stock after all – even thy siblings excel amongst the others, so it would be a great pity if we lost them entirely to the programme. Best not risk a repetition of thy blood father’s accident.”

“Pah! As if I would do that again! I was still a babe then – I know better now. Thou needst have no fears, even about the safety of my bearer in my care now! I fully appreciate all that she did for me in the past, believe me father.”

Besides which the avenue their lord had finally taken with Baugbereth was perhaps worth experimenting further with, though maybe with a few alterations that might solve their intellectual impairment problem altogether…

“Where is she?! I will KILL her!”

“I know not Sauron – she was with us earlier, but said thou had need of her aid in tending to one of the female thr…”

Sauron fought for control at the duplicity as the Balrog almost cowered before his wrath.

“IMBECILES! Thou knowest she hath nothing to do with them any more!”

Even as he raised his hand to squeeze the fire-demon’s throat and his other to tear out its flaming mane, he knew it was none of the Balrogs doing - Baugbereth had deliberately done this, just as she knew he had gone to her blood mother who was delivering his hybrid son. With his anger finding its proper object, his grasp on the Balrog released and he merely threw it at three more of it’s fellows who had had the sense to stay out of his reach. His voice rose loud in the physical world as well as the astral, ice-cold now and all the more terrifying for his rapidly hardening emotions.

BAUGBERETH! Thou hast better get away from her right NOW - whatever it is thou art doing!

Baugbereth looked on her birth mother’s dead body with contempt as she heard her true father’s voice and her mind replied to him with perfect calm, almost a gentleness, but it was born of triumph and she did nothing to hide it from him..

She is but dead for a while father. I have my half-brother and he is safe… She tried to kill him as she did me – apparently he reminded her of me when I was born…

She had actually laughed as she gleefully flung the half-truth at him and his anger had coiled around his heart so that it almost choked him. He had had to stop and calm himself a little before he continued on his way to the Chamber of Transformation where Baugbereth was waiting for him, with his hybrid son and their slain mother.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The demon lord had brought her back again. He had said nothing to her as she emerged from her death, though she had begged and begged him to send her back to the silence. But he had in a way, for he had told her to go back to her cell. No words, just his voice quiet in her head, almost sorrowful. So here she was again. Sitting on the hard bench that had served as a bed whenever Giliathmen came to her. The demon had said this would happen again as usual. Except it would never be the same again for, knowing or not, she had violated the bond and nothing she could do would mend it again.

Faenelloth drank all her water, heedless of the drug that took her into forgetfulness, for she could not face Giliathmen without it this time. Could not coax him back from his usual state of aggression and brutalism that he was always in whenever they first put him with her, after she had given birth to yet another of their foul newborns.

She had been in shock anyway, not long after she had gone into labour with this latest child. This was because her daughter had been there when she had been brought to the place of birthing. Always before it had been the demon lord who had stayed with her as she delivered the orchlings, but this time there had only been Baugbereth instead, whom she had not set eyes since her own birthing so long ago. Faenelloth had known who she was, even before Baugbereth had informed her, which had been almost immediately for her eldest child could not wait to gloat. The elleth had looked in shocked astonishment at the child she had carried so tenderly and hopefully, and had wept for in her heart ever since. Much later she would be calm again, for the reality of her failure to protect her infant daughter was finally brought home to her - and her desperate murder had indeed been fully justified, if flawed in execution. But in that birthing cell she had been speechless and beyond tears as she looked on the only child she had ever wanted to love and cherish.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

She could still see traces of herself and of Giliathmen in Baugbereth. Her silver-gilt hair grew like a mane down the centre of her daughter’s head. Her skin was smoke-grey, like Giliathmen’s was since his transformation but, in Baugbereth, there was a silvery sheen to it and she glistened as she moved in the guttering torchlight. Her eyes were shaped like her father’s had been and caught at Faenelloth’s heart as she looked on the dark charcoal depths and then had gasped in fright as she saw the malign glitter in her gaze, feral and vengeful. Baugbereth’s figure too was similar yet different. Her daughter stood almost as tall as Giliathmen when they had lived at the lake and she was a head taller than her natural mother. Her form was straight, not stooped as the male thralls became after a while, but closely resembled the musculature of Giliathmen, though a little sleeker and glowing with health. Her hands were black-clawed and gleamed and curled hungrily as she moved around her mother, examining her closely. When she spoke to Faenelloth her teeth were fangs and her smile was a snarl of contemptuous disdain, but it was her words that had cut Faenelloth’s heart to shreds and chilled her soul.

“To think that I yearned for this moment… and now it has come I find thou art not worth my notice at all. Not even worth my breath!”

She stopped and brought her face close to her bearer’s so that she could indeed feel her breath raging hot against the elleth’s shrunken pallid cheek, though it was her mind that carried on talking now as she continued her pacing around her trembling parent.

If it were not for my half brother I would leave thee now, but regretfully I cannot forsake him for his father would truly never forgive me if I allowed anything to happen to the babe!”

The pathetic creature still had not realised how she had been duped! Baugbereth laughed aloud as she picked the thought out of the pathetic creature’s head.

This is my own flesh and blood! I cannot believe I owe my life… and death of course… to thee!

The hatred and malice of her words and thoughts were like physical blows as Baugbereth carried on circling around her like some great predatory beast, and she trembled like a leaf until the contractions began to hit her again.

“What do you want of me?” She at last managed to speak as the pain receded. “Will you use me as you did Giliathmen?!”

Better! But still pathetic… She would not bother to talk anymore she decided. I want nothing from thee elleth. I am only interested in the child thou wilt soon bear… and maybe wonder how thou wilt receive this one – whether he will meet the same fate as myself…? My dear little half-brother – I can see him – he is a lovely little elfling! Strong and lusty!

Faenelloth flesh began to crawl, but she was seized by another contraction and went into a squat, needing to push now. The orchling would be born soon… how had Baugbereth been able to see him?

“Do not mock me! You are the only elfling I ever bore. And he is your full brother – you must know he cannot be an elfling.”

Baugbereth laughed out loud, the sound harsh and echoing around the chamber, overlaid with spite and cruelty and she turned and leant down so she could watch the elleth’s face.

Half brother – thou hast not laid with thy mate since thou wast brought to this fortress.

“Liar!”

Had some lovely dreams and fantasies when he came to thee last, elleth? Did he look as he did before I was born? Didst thou not think - as he whispered his love to thee - that it could not be real?

“Ahhhh! Leave me alone! The orchling is coming…”

The little ellon without a soul, idiot!

She withdrew smiling nastily, as the elleth screamed with the birth pains that were so different when the baby was not a true elf – and this one might look as though it was, but it was most assuredly not. He looked the part at least. She idly poked at the baby’s mind as he fought his way into the birth canal, eager to be born. But he was Sauron’s son all right. What a pity she would never mate with the brat. But he and the two others yet to be born would be last of these hybrids that Sauron would sire. On that she was quite determined. No more of them - not even by the other ellyth. There was a better way and this day would see the alteration of this abhorrent plan…

Faenelloth backed away from the infant after laying him gently on the floor. Usually the demon would take the orchling straight away, but Baugbereth was just looking at him with every sign of interest.

Did I look like that when I was born? So red and angry looking…? Oh no – of course I could not have, could I…? I was already dead by then was I not?

Still she would not use her voice but the malevolence in her mental tone was forceful. Unmistakeable.

“I… I do not understand… I can only birth orchlings now…? Not possible…”

She was shivering uncontrollably and could not take her eyes of the perfect baby elf she had just delivered. Maybe she was sick – they had drugged her? Faenelloth’s eyes at last met her daughter’s evil gaze and she collapsed onto the floor in horror. An ellon without a soul… she had not laid with Gil since they were brought here… not possible. Was it?

We never lie remember?

What irony! Oh, Sauron was such a master of torture! To maim and wound with the truth. This elleth had known in her heart that something was wrong when Sauron had been testing this new theory on her. And she had instinctively known there was something wrong, but had wanted the illusion so much she had been glad to be fooled.

Time to finish this. Sauron must be with the Balrogs now, thinking they had tried to attack her. She smiled to herself. For all his attempts to rationalise and disassociate himself he loved her and nothing would change that. All that would change was the way he loved her. And he would see the logic of that too eventually once he had learned the error of his ways. She walked over to the baby ellon and picked him up, giving him a spiteful little pinch on his soft little bottom. He started to cry but she swiftly sent him to sleep with a negligent thought and held him gently enough.

Dost thou not wish to hold my half-brother? No?

Again she laughed and made Faenelloth rise and look at her and the sleeping child.

Art thou sure thou dost not wish to strangle him? No? Shalt I do it for thee perhaps?

“Please stop…” Faenelloth’s voice was a whisper and her body was shuddering with revulsion but she was compelled to look at Baugbereth and her own sleeping baby.

Not yet my bearer. Not until thou knowest how. And why thou hast broken faith with thy mate.

Watch me now elleth!

She smiled maliciously at Faenelloth and gradually let her own face and just her face, melt into another form. One that was a mirror of Faenelloth’s as she was at Lake Cuiviénen…

Thou wast beautiful indeed I think. But weak. I do not regret changing… and I can take on thy aspect as easily as Lord Sauron took on thy mate’s. I thought he spun the illusion most skilfully – he even took thee in for much of the time did he not? And the potions did their work too of course – helped thee not to mind the deception too much? And thou hast birthed such a beautiful son for my demon lord as well. He will be most pleased with thee.

She shifted back into her usual form and moved towards the elleth halting about six inches away from her and looked down into the raw, weeping eyes of her blood mother.

Thou hast broken thy pair bond hath thou not? This babe is no son of Giliathmen’s is he?

She forced the words from Faenelloth’s lips.

“No.”

She could not stop weeping, nor looking at her eldest daughter holding her youngest child.

Thou art a craven! Wilt thou not seek to save thine own son as thou ‘saved’ me?

She relinquished her hold on Faenelloth’s mind on a whim, though she knew well enough what would happen.

“He was never mine… only you were mine. But he took you from me and so I had to make sure… had to kill you… I did not know this could happen. I thought I was making you safe…”

Somehow the words came, though she could hardly see the two figures now for tears.

How very noble of thee. I can even give thee my thanks, for if thou had not strangled me, then I would never have known such power! Such wonder! Such joy!

Again, but for the last time she smiled at Faenelloth.

Well I wilt not kill my half brother… and thou shalt not, so we have an impasse. Perhaps there is a way - for it really doth not matter whether this babe lives or no. Sauron will look after him whatever happens. But what will Giliathmen think when he knows of this – and he will do, make no mistake. So, for thee there is no real future is there? Thy mate wilt not want thee after this will he? Sauron has got his child with thee and so has no further use for thee – unless thou can bear to allow his attentions once more, knowing for sure now that they are false. I could kill thee myself – but thou art not worth the trouble I believe… but thou still hast a course thou already knoweth well – I would take it as swiftly as thou can, mother…”

* * * * * * * * * * * *

WHY?!!! What was the point Baugbereth?!

No point – not really. Everything will be as it was my Lord.

Except she will refuse to mate with me again

She may do. She will mate with Giliathmen still I know. But only with Giliathmen as he truly is – so there is little point in thy taking the Quendi form again – with her anyway.

Is that what this is all about? Thou dost not want me to pursue this new course to improve our breeding stock.

Oh but I do! But thou hath been pursuing an ultimately empty road, though thou shalt have three children to carry out thy plan if we later need to bring in a pure elven-hybrid strain. And still there is another way to have thy Quendi hybrids is there not? If thou canst see through thy prejudice and take the true road, for there is one elleth thou hast not included in this breeding programme ist there not?

What art thou saying? Thou knowest there are no other ellyth…

He looked at her and she smiled at him then, and again shifted shape to take on Faenelloth’s form fully.

Melkor taught me much when we mated. And our progeny is unparalleled… the infants follow the form they were conceived in my Lord. Thou hath many ways to improve our yrch if only thou canst put aside thy misgivings – thou art not my blood father, so there is no risk…

Sauron was almost speechless. The same thought had occurred to him at times since they had fled Utumno, but he had resisted the idea as it seemed so… unfitting. And yet she was right – there was no risk for the purposes they intended. And more than one option also, for he could take the form Melkor has assumed for Baugbereth’s first mating.

“Let me think on this… I am still wrath with thee. Thy bearer is still important to us and I am most displeased that thou hast meddled in such a way – she is gravely unstable still…”

“Why didst thou not tell him! He was bound to take her side…”

Sauron looked coolly at his cruel queen and answered her in quiet tones.

“Keep out of this Baugbereth. I will not tell thee again. Be content that thou hast achieved thy goal and that I shalt not breed with any of the ellyth again.”

“I appreciate that, for it is only logic fath… Sauron…”  Her voice was conciliatory now, for though she had had her way in most things Sauron had made it very plain that things had changed between them since the birth of her half brother. No longer did they have the trustful, equal relationship they had enjoyed in Utumno, or at first here in Angband. Now it was better and yet worse since they had bred together. His will always prevailed and she now got her way only when it coincided with his. It galled her, but it had been worth the price. “… but it is not as though we need the thralls any longer is it? All the spawn I have birthed with thee and with Melkor too are without peer are they not? They are as intelligent as they need to be and of perfect temperament too?”

“Yes. Thy yrchlings are everything we have envisioned Baugbereth. But if there is one thing for thee to learn from Melkor and his defeat, it is that thou cannot see all ends – nor I. So we will keep the breeding thralls progeny since they are scarcely less in intellect than thine own broods for the most part - especially thy siblings.  And we will continue with that breeding programme too – and that will include thy blood parents. Thy half brother and my two other hybrids also… especially my true daughter.”

“Thou art only keeping them because thou knoweth how much it galls me.”

He laughed coldly at her. She would not learn that she could not thwart him and for some reason he tolerated it. She owed everything to him and knew it, and yet in this she always sought to challenge him, thinking she could persuade him to abandon the original breeding programme. He was tired of this constant wrangling and spoke directly to her mind to mind, so she could not fail to notice his supreme indifference to her wants and needs in this one thing.

And what doth that tell thee Baugbereth? Though all seems to bode well for our own broods I will continue in the original breeding programme because it intrigues me.

His will lashed out at her preventing her from retorting. A little thing, but she needed to be reminded occasionally that she would not always get her way. Especially in this.

There are other things at stake here and there are things that we can learn from the ellyth and even their mates yet. The Ainur have secured the Quendi as allies and so anything we can use against them must be useful. Knowledge is a tool. An asset. A key to victory like no other – Melkor was too proud at times and his fall is the result of his lack of understanding. I wilt not make that mistake.

He paused a moment to reflect on the last year or more. He had had to resurrect Faenelloth time after time and finally had had to threaten her with Giliathmen’s slow and permanent death to stop her constant suiciding. That had convinced him of his course in persisting with the breeding programme for he needed to know how strong the pair bond would be. How far it could be pushed.  He spoke to Baugbereth again, his voice soft yet chilling in its objectivity.

“Whatever thou thinketh of thy bearer, however much thou hate her, I will not suffer any more attacks by thee upon her body or her sanity. The bond between thy blood parents appears to be inviolable and some of that is because of what we have done to them here. It has changed and that is fascinating to me at least. I would not tell her mate of her ‘betrayal’, nor would I allow thee to do so. I knew she would tell him herself if we did not. Just as I knew she would finally seek for him to punish her for her betratyal of their bond – and I admit I hoped he would not do so. That he would be able to mitigate it. Blame us, not her. Canst thou not see that this is important? A strength that is fallible and can be exploited? Manipulated – that at least should appeal to thee!”

He sighed as his mind stroked gently, sensitively over hers. The transition from daughter to mate had been disappointing in some ways, despite the undoubted excellence of their offspring.

“These Quendi have great strength of mind and of spirit, but they can be broken, moulded. Understand this well - they are my experiment and I wilt not permit thine interference any longer. Accept it Baugbereth, and quickly now, because if thou canst not then I may be tempted to terminate the experiment that is centred upon thee. I still love thee as ever I did – thou art my helpmate and my spouse now, but make no mistake about this – interfere one more time out of malice or revenge and thou shalt suffer for it eternally, I promise thee.”

“I hear thee my Lord and Husband. It shalt be as thou commandeth.”  She buried her other unspoken thought deep, where he would not pry. *For now.*

* * * * * * * * * * * *

“How can we oppose them Gil? It is impossible. At every turn they torment us. Will not even allow us to stay dead. They control us in every way. Read our thoughts. How can you make them pay for their cruelty?”
He nodded grimly. She was right he knew, but there had to be a way. A reckoning had to be made. He drew her close again, needing to maintain contact and convince her that he would never doubt her, would always love and need her.

“They are not all powerful. They have enemies – strong ones. The Dark God has gone. He has been taken prisoner by his brethren. There are many other Gods and they opposed him. They oppose the Demon Lord too. He and Baugbereth fear them. They are still hiding from them in this place. Maybe their enemies would help us?”

“How do you know this Gil?”

He hesitated. They could be heard perhaps, but then few things here could be hidden and if they were punished as a result… What difference did it make to them after all? He realised she was amazed that he could ‘forgive’ her so easily for betraying their bond so badly, but he did not see it that way at all. She had been duped and manipulated and had truly thought he was with her, sharing her ‘dream’. As she told him what had been done, her voice laden with an agony of remorse, he had only been outraged at the deception imposed on her and that the Demon Lord would go to such lengths with her to get a child that was almost an elf. Why did they want that when they had changed him and the other ellons so much. It made no sense, except that perhaps it was done simply to torture poor Fae – him as well presumably. Well that had not worked at least! He smiled and hugged her again, kissing her ear gently, then went on, his voice quiet and calm.

“The older thralls – sometimes they talk… those that can still. Not all of them were Elves…some were lesser demons… and they remember where they came from once. They were not always slaves. And they were not always bent to evil.”

“Sometimes I have heard them talk of their old brethren, but I thought they meant other Elves… But we females do not often hear them speak of anything.”

“They do not treat you and the other ellyth the same as us. You are precious to them, for all that they treat you so badly. When I am not with you I am different. Angry all the time. I fight – I have to – with the other thralls. They call us daugs – soldiers. And the yrchlings too now. Sometimes they come to fight us and the Demon Lord watches us. They are turning the yrchlings we breed for them into savage killers – soldiers for a war they wish to wage on their enemies… and the Quendi are also their enemies Fae.”

It was too much to take in and she was feeling so weak and dizzy now. The one thing she clung too was that he had not rejected her and would not allow her to punish herself. She felt a little less sullied as a result of his refusal to condemn her, but part of her still hated herself for what she had been tricked into doing. He would not let go of her as he spoke of these strange things he had heard in the time they had been apart and, as her exhaustion claimed her concentration, she burrowed into his warmth and finally took comfort in his presence as she had done before they had been brought to this terrible new prison.

“Let me sleep a little melleth. I am so tired.”

“Of course beloved. I shall watch over you. Come, let us lie down together and I will hold you as you go to sleep. I missed you so much Fae.”

* * * * * * * * * *

And this was ‘fascinating’? Baugbereth frowned in scorn at their pathetic attempts at defiance, then sighed and stroked her belly absently, once more full of Sauron’s feisty yrchlings. She had promised not to interfere and she would not, but he had not forbidden her observing and listening to her blood parents. Maybe it was interesting in a way she thought to herself. The elleth knew that it was useless to oppose them by now but the thrall… he was always more alert when he was with his mate, but now it seemed he was also becoming more aware when he was away from her too. Or was it that the drugs fed to the thralls became less effective after a time? 

He bowed his head, not wanting to see her shameful tears as she tried to catch her breath at the shock. But he had to tell her so she would know everything. He knew she would want to know everything.

“We killed each other. Not once, but three times over. She brought me back twice.”

“How… how did you know he was my son…? She told you I suppose?”

“No – not until she raised me the first time. But I already knew. He looked like me Fae… before I was like this. He looked like me, but he had your hair as it was at the Lake and your eyes as they are now. Red eyes. You told me that the Demon had taken my exact form when he deceived you that time?”

“Yes.”

She was looking at him now. He could feel her blood-dark eyes on him and he raised his head, his own eyes downcast as his voice sank into a hoarse whisper.

“We were both armed with swords and knives… I was too stunned, just with looking at him the first time… He stabbed me here...” He pointed to his heart, “… just the one thrust and I could not even move to avoid the blow, I was so shocked.”

“What is a sword, Gil? And why should he have wanted to attack you?”

He groaned. He just wanted to tell her, not answer questions. Why could she never remember about the weapons? Normally he would have lost his temper, but this time it was different. Something had happened to him with this encounter and he felt broken and empty, even of anger. And how could she know about the weapons. The ellyth were not allowed anywhere near the thralls when they were not mating, so she had never seen the ferocious blades that the Demon gave to them.

“A sword Fae – I have told you before. It is like a very long knife. Longer than my arm and both edges are wickedly sharp.”

“And they cut you open Gil? All these scars…” She could not grasp what he meant by having to fight but she knew about knives and could see how he could die of such a wound if it went deep enough.

“Yes they cut me open.” He sighed. “Next time I was ready for him and we both had many wounds – I killed him. Stabbed him in the throat. But he had slashed me in the leg and I had bled too much. So I had to be brought back again as well…”

He rose and sat down beside her once more, patting her gently on the shoulder, then leant back against the wall and shut his eyes, suddenly feeling tired and cold and went on, his voice numb and quiet now.

“She brought us both back. We were both covered in blood – his was redder than mine… The smell nearly drove me crazy and I think it was the same for him. We both fell on each other in a frenzy and this time I kept stabbing him in the body, even as he did the same. I was faster. And he fell before me… onto his knees…” He paused a moment and went on almost in wonder that he could tell her so easily. “I looked at him, at what had been my own face, your beautiful hair and your sad ruined eyes looking at me with hatred and my own death wish…. I swung my blade… struck his head from his body.”

He stopped then, not able to tell her the rest. How Baugbereth had screamed in exultation, making his flesh crawl. How she had come over to him and embraced him like a fierce lover, lapping hungrily at the wounds on his neck and face, seizing his saw-edged knife from his trembling hand and pulling back on his hair-crest… then drew it swift and deep across his exposed throat and thrust him contemptuously to the ground.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Take them both back to the Chamber of Transformation. My Lord will see to them this time.”

Her tongue delicately passed over her lips, sweeping up the last traces of her true father’s blood and she sent her thought out to Sauron.

See! I told thee our yrch’s blood instincts were superior to thy soulless Elves!

Thou art sick in the head Baugbereth. Why didst thou slay him when he had done thy bidding?

She laughed scornfully, though his unexpected condemnation worried her.

So faint of heart my Lord? Because he failed me the first time. And to teach him that he was no better than the hybrid in my eyes.

Thou thinkest that mattered to him then? Thou ought to have used my other hybrid son – that would have been a truer test – using thine blood mother’s son was too much of a distraction for the thrall. He recognised him for sure and that caused the first fatal hesitation.

And would not have been so amusing! Oh! Go away if thou art seeking to lecture me in this!

She was revelling in her defiance now and hardly cared that she was risking his full wrath.

Thou asked me to pit a hybrid against an unrelated thrall and so I did! Thou dost not intend to send the thralls into battle against the Quendi in any event, so what did it matter? Thou shouldst be pleased that he showed as much comprehension as he did, since thou art always worrying about the thralls relative levels of intelligence.

Thou chose the thrall most practised in the use of blades to battle against my son who had never used one. It proved nothing more than that they each could kill the other and one was less skilled. And then thou put the thought to decapitate into the thrall’s mind in the third encounter. What was the point of sending the hybrid for revival Baugbereth? Thou knowest that is not possible when the head is severed…? And be very careful how thou answer this question, my spouse.

Her bravado vanished before the venomous chill in Sauron’s thought, but she kept her head and did not attempt to dissemble.

Why should I worry about thine hybrid being slain – thou canst always get another if thou wisheth. As for sending him to the Chamber of Transformation… I wouldst not wish to put my true father under the impression that we cannot resuscitate all deaths. Let him think we can raise him too when he revives in the same room… before we send the corpse to the yrch. They are the warriors – we should test the hybrids against them, not the thralls.

Thou art more corrupted than I can credit Baugbereth. He sighed heavily and shook his head at her persistent logic. Very well, I will see to Giliathmen myself – I suspect there is more trauma thou didst not count upon in his mind. The first sight of the hybrid was evidently a shock too far for him and I would know more of this.

Why? It is obvious he recognised the hybrid and that caused him to hesitate. The second time he could barely wait to hack away at him.

And again thou dost not understand Baugbereth. Why doth that not surprise me?

* * * * * * * * *

“Why did they make you fight him though Gil? It seems so odd!”

He shrugged. “Why do they make us fight each other? They do it for their own amusement mostly I suppose. But I think I know why – they want to know if we can fight the Quendi… or what looks like an Elf. They chose me because I am quickest with the blades. I do not know why they chose your son Fae – maybe just to see how I would react… Or for no reason at all, except to torment me and make me angry.”

He looked into her thin, sorrowful face and felt his heart lurch. He should not have told her what had happened. All he wanted now was to hold her close. He reached out to her and she came to him, curling up beside him as he put strong arms gently around her, making sure he did not scratch her with his claws.

“Ah Fae. Let us make this last as long as we can this time shall we? I do not want to leave you this time. All I want is to stay here with you. I do not want to make another orch with you. Never again. I wish they would just leave us to die and never bring us back.”

“That is what I wish for too Gil, but they will never do that.”

He nodded despairingly, but then he had a thought and nearly spoke it, but stopped himself in time. He held the thought and examined it… What if they could find a way to leave this place? What if they could find the Quendi again and these other great spirits that the Demon Lord feared… Then they would be safe perhaps. But he would be going back with the other thralls and the yrch eventually. That is what had always happened before. They would not let him stay with Fae, but maybe… Maybe he did not have to go back with the other breeding thralls…?

* * * * * * * * *

“They will not mate! What is wrong with them?”

Sauron looked coolly at Baugbereth and shook his head slowly.

“Are they taking the stimulants?”

She flushed with anger, but held her temper, knowing it had little or no effect on him these days. The answer however was embarrassing.

“No! Well yes – a little, but they are both hardly taking any food at all and very little water now as well, unless the hunger grows too much to bear and then they gorge themselves with the sedatives in the water and sleep for days.”

He laughed and held her furious gaze, almost daring her to start having a tantrum. He smiled slowly, mockingly at her and took his time replying.

“Maybe they do not want to have another orchling for us. Hast thou tried force feeding them whilst they are sedated… if they still take some water?”

“WHAT?! Of course we have force-fed them! Dost thou think I am stupid? ”

Her flush grew darker as her Lord looked levelly at her, seemingly unconcerned.

“As soon as they are returned to their cell they make each other sick, even if it means he has to beat her. The last time he nearly killed her.”

“Fascinating.”

“Well I am glad thou thinkest so!”

She glared at him but held back from yelling as her face grew sullen with resentment.

“I do not know what to do my Lord. Maybe I should turn them over to thy care again? Or perhaps they should just be withdrawn from the breeding programme from now on…”

He laughed a little at this. She was so transparent in this one case. She would never be satisfied until her bearer was destroyed. That day might come of course, once they had enough strains of yrch bred, but not just yet. The current situation was laughably simple to resolve, but Baugbereth had obviously lost patience with her true parents and she had no answers other than manipulation and spite. He would take over the handling of these two once more, but not until he had thoroughly punished his spouse for the killing of his hybrid son with Faenelloth.

“Why dost thou think they are doing this Baugbereth? Starving themselves slowly to death? Not responding to thy coercion?”

She shrugged, striving to look indifferent yet knowing he was deliberately trying to provoke her.

“How should I know? I am no Elf – thou hast done thy work too well with me and I do not profess to understand my ‘people’. Maybe they have lost their desire for each other? By now he must hate the sight of her and she of him…”

“Now thou dost make me doubt the answer to thy earlier question – that thou art stupid after all. Thou cannot fail to have seen how they are together – the bond is still there, intact and only grows in strength with every obstacle, every torture they are faced with. They are challenging us and thou hast merely allowed them to get away with it. Look at them now if thou thinkest I am wrong!”

He waited whilst she looked on the mates devotedly coiled around each other in the little cell, sleeping off the after-effects of their latest force-feeding. Even as he looked on them as well, he slipped undetected into Baugbereth’s mind with long practised ease and almost laughed in triumph as he perceived the envy his daughter-spouse felt for her true parents bond. Jealousy, pure and simple and totally of his own creation from the moment he had ensnared her heart and mind, before she had even taken her first murdered breaths. His smile was sinuous, almost gentle, savouring the irony, and this time his words were soft inside her head.

Thou hast only made their bond and their resistance to our designs stronger. They seek to escape from us and think that if they show for long enough that they will no longer co-operate, then we will let them die and stay dead.

He sighed softly. Why could she not see it?

Separate them. Put him in a holding cell – not back with the other breeding thralls, or with the fighting yrch. Just incarcerate him on his own and give them both their usual food and water rations whilst they are separated. See what happens. If they start to eat again, then put them back together and then put the stimulants into their water instead of the food. Triple the strength. They have to drink eventually.

But they still may not mate and if they do what about the strength? It may harm the orchling?

Does that matter? We do not need another orchling do we? It is enough they know that they will do our bidding and have no choice in the matter.

He withdrew from her, again with her being unaware he had seen her thoughts. This time he spoke aloud, pulling her close to him so they could feel their breath on the other’s face.

“Dost thou see now that this is the direct result of the thrall’s being made to kill my hybrid?”

Her breath caught as he embraced her, and for one moment she thought he was going to punish her physically, but she searched his eyes and saw only desire and a strange disappointment. She could not understand him anymore and for some odd reason found that only fanned her own passion, her lust for him. She shook her head slowly and licked her lips nervously, knowing that if she attempted to dissemble that she might anger him too much and she both craved and feared what he might do to her.

“I do not see at all – I thought he would relish the opportunity to kill my half brother and he did. I know he did. But still he will not blame her for her collusion in the betrayal thou compelled from her… What?”

There was something in his eyes she almost recognised but could not understand. She had expected him to strike her. For her defiance and for what he perceived as her stupidity and selfishness – she knew he thought her undisciplined and lacking in objectivity.

“They love each other. The thrall’s killing thy half brother broke him. He is useless now as a fighter – he has lost the hunger and yearns for death. As doth thy bearer, but of course that thou dost understand very well indeed. They are seeking oblivion together, but we have uses for them both yet…”

His voice had been growing gentler and softer as he spoke to her and his hand lightly stroked her cheek.

“Once they have mated thou wiltst not see them or have anything to do with them again, Baugbereth – understand? Thou wilt have nothing to with them after that…”

“But… arrrgh! Thou art hurting me my husband! Please! Ohhhh…”

The pain in her head was unbearable and she almost passed out, yet he held her still, gentle as a cloud, his fingers softly caressing her hot skin as her groans grew louder and she closed her eyes in agony, unable to detach herself from him. Unable to move at all, as he battered her mind remorselessly.

Submit Baugbereth or I will continue until thou art dead and then bring thee back as many times as it takes - until thou wilt submit to me.

PLEASE! Yes! Anything you want. I will do what you say… just stop this please…! I WILL DO IT! PLEASE STOP!
She was terrified now and his gentle physical touch belied the torture he was inflicting upon her mentally. His mental voice and her own echoed savagely inside her skull and she fainted for a few moments.

“Open thy eyes, Baugbereth. Look at me.”

She was still afraid, but she obeyed instantly and gasped in shock as she took in his transformation. He had taken the original elven form of her true father and he was smiling in triumph and malice at her.

“What art thou doing now? I said I would obey. I meant it Sauron! Please do not hurt me again… I will go and separate them now if thou doth desire me too.”

“Later. I desire thee to continue thy lesson in submission for now. Change to match me Baugbereth – take thy bearer’s form before she came to us… thou knowest how she was. I will have more hybrid Quendi and I will have them with thee – as thou hast been saying all along… Our own progeny is without parallel.”

“I will obey my Lord… only…”

He knew what was concerning her and this time his laugh was harsh and mocking, at odds with the loving gaze of the ellon whose form he had replicated. As always her concern ran first to litter of yrchlings she was carrying. They were almost ready to be born.

“Like I said earlier… we have enough yrchlings for now. Even of our own line. Transform Baugbereth – I will exterminate the brood in thy belly, to make way for the first of the hybrids I will get on thee. Single births to start with and we will follow the usual gestation for now. Thou mayest experiment with that and then we will see about multiple birthing later perhaps. Change now and do my bidding and all will be well. Thou must learn more of thy heritage and so know their strengths and their weaknesses instinctively. Thou wilt retain the Quendi form from now on and breed hybrid Elves for me. Understand?”

As he spoke she was melting into Faenelloth’s form as she had been in Cuiviénen. Within her she felt his will destroying the five infants she carried as his arms went around her waist.

“I understand and obey my husband. I submit to thee... willingly and completely.”

It was a relief to do so and she sighed with contentment as his warm, hungry lips sought hers. He did still love her as she loved him. The thought calmed her as much as his touch on her body aroused her passions.

“Will she be alright now?” 
The Demon’s stare held a cold silent anger, but Giliathmen was frantic with worry still, for it seemed to him that Faenelloth was in more pain than ever. The compulsion the Demon exercised on him tightened, and he felt his throat constrict as his next words were frozen inside of him, unsaid as a thought that was not his own echoed inside his feverish mind.

Silence! She will sleep soon, but the wounds thou hast inflicted upon her will take time to heal. Remember how it is with thyself when thou hast died in battle?

Sauron reined back his ire and carried on singing the last of the spells that would anchor the female’s fëa back to her body. Deftly, as he went on with his dissonant chanting, he dealt with the damage the thrall had inflicted upon his wife. A grudging admiration welled up in him for this pair. The male had always been surprisingly resilient and strong, but this time Sauron found that it was the female, whom he had regarded as so fragile and weak in both body and mind who had impressed him. The injuries inflicted upon her by Giliathmen were grave and he marvelled at how long she had managed to fight her mate off her. True the stimulant had taken hold of her too for a while and so it was her external injuries that gave more cause for concern. She had also been surprisingly resistant to his calling this time. Even when they had broken their pair bond previously, she had never resisted for more than three callings before returning to her body. He wondered whether she would start suiciding again once she was back in the cell. If her mate was there more, what would happen? Her reaction to him in those first moments of post-incarnation had been ambiguous to say the least! Fascinating…

* * * * * * * * *

“They will let you stay with me?”

“He said that I will be with you most days, although I will have to serve him some of the time.”

“It must be some trick…”

“For sure it is – but if it means I can see you more and not go back with the other breeding thralls…”
He touched her face gently, fearing to press too hard for it was still bruised all over, though the cuts and bite marks were almost healed now. He had been astonished at how quickly the open wounds had mended, almost before his eyes, as the Demon had worked on her injuries in the Chamber of Transformation. The bruises that were on her body now had mostly been caused by the Demon resetting her bones – the ones he had broken whilst he been under the madness caused by their infernal drugs.

She smiled at him and put her hand on his, her fingers stroking his gently. He wanted to kiss and hold her but dared not. He was still in shock at how badly he had beaten her. Her jaw had been dislocated and that had been the chief cause of distress to both of them as the Demon had meticulously repaired tissue and bone. At first she could not talk easily or smile at all and this had frightened both of them badly, until Sauron had explained what he was doing, even as he held Giliathmen under the heaviest of compulsions, whilst still keeping him conscious.

* * * * * * * * *

To feel the pain, and for the bleeding to start again, are all good signs. See – I can stop that easily enough and her own natural capacity to heal is still strong. It is different for the male thralls – thy bodies have changed too much and can no longer heal themselves as effectively as when thou wert still of the Quendi. Something we cannot restore to thee, but our necromancy is good enough to repair most woundings so that thou canst function again, provided there is enough tissue to regenerate. That is why thy throat is so badly scarred and imperfectly healed. The wounds wrought there were too deep, and too much tissue was lost when thou wert first captured.

It had been so odd, standing frozen to the spot whilst the Demon worked quickly and efficiently on Fae, talking inside his head the whole time, explaining what he was doing and why.

Luckily this time, thou wert both under the effect of the mating stimulant during this assault, and so thou wert not actively trying to kill her, only to slake thy desire for her. She had taken a goodly dose as well, which at least means thou hath not injured her internally too much, though the bruising around her loins is bad. Bruises take longer to heal than puncture wounds. See – her throat wound is already knitting well, but her jaw, ribs, nose and eyes, and the collarbone are all still marked. Again it is lucky that the breaks to the nose and shoulders were quite clean, so it is easily put right – for me anyway. So the bones will mend well, but the bruising always takes a little time to fade. Nothing to worry about, especially if thou canst persuade her to eat and drink properly. Neither of thee will be given any drugs for a few weeks – after that we shall have to see what happens. How well thou both adapt to this new regime…

* * * * * * * * *

“You truly forgive me, Fae?”

“There is nothing to forgive melleth.”

He shook his head sadly at her, keeping his eyes averted from hers for he was unwilling to forgive himself and would not believe that she did not blame him.

“That poor raging beast was not you beloved – it was their vile potions… I felt them too remember?”

He was leaning over her as she lay resting on their bench and she reached out with both hands and stroked his cheeks along the deep raking scratches that she had dealt him during the course of their joint fury.

“Remember when we were first here… and you did not see me for so long? When they tricked me into thinking I was laying with you? When I bore the Demon a son? This is same thing my dear, except that this time it was done to both of us. They did this to us. Not you. Not me.”

“I hear you Fae. But I cannot forget, my love. What I did… When the bruises you bear are the shape and size of my fingers… my palm… my fist. And the scratches on your legs and your body match my claws… And when your breath is caught because I broke your ribs… when I…”

“Shhhh! Gil… Do not do this.”

One of her fingers moved to lay gently against his mouth as her other hand came down and gripped his shoulder.

“Help me to sit up Gil – it will be alright so long as you do it slowly. Let me sit with you for a while.”

He nodded and wrapped his strong arms around her with great care, supporting her spine gently and pulled her smoothly and steadily into an upright position and then slipped behind her so he was leaning across the bench with his back against the wall, then rested her upper body against his. She sighed softly as she felt his warmth against her back and his arms slid around her gently, resting on either side of her hips.

“See. That is better already, is it not?”

He could not see her face at least and so he nodded softly, thinking his heart would break with shame as he looked at the dark purple bruises on her shoulders.

* * * * * * * * *

His poor brother! How could he have borne it? Now it was he who was shaking with new grief and horror and Aeglos who was holding him close, rubbing his back gently with one hand and stroking her fingers through his hair as she had done with Giliathmen in that terrible, terrible place.

“We would not let them win. Would not let them destroy our bond. Everything they did to us. Everything they made us do to each other…”

Softly she spoke the words into the everlasting night of Arda, as she held her kinsman and told of how they had both healed each other of those awful, unforgiveable hurts, of which the worst for both of them was Giliathmen’s collusion in bringing her back to their wretched life.

“It was too hard for him bear, and I know I would most likely have done the same had I been in his place.” Her voice had grown soft with love and memory now and this stung Aelial into shedding more tears, though quieter than the ones earlier as she had spoken of their devastating reunion.

“The Demon told him that I had never resisted the calling so strongly – that none of us had ever defied him so much in their returning… We talked of it a lot over the next weeks and months – why that should have been, even with Gil there to beg me not to go back.”

She sighed gently and looked up at the dark sky, sprinkled with so many stars and at last a smile appeared on her thin, tense face.

“We thought that maybe it was because he was there, even though he was being made to aid the Demon in calling me from death… Somehow I knew he was there and I took strength from our true bond to fight the call. The bond helped me to resist as long as I did. But the pain was awful… and that did distress him so much, after everything that gone on before… and so in the end I had to come back… because it would have destroyed him if I had not. He could not wish for death to come for him as I could… as I did when I killed our daughter. His poor mind and heart was broken so badly and so I could not leave him alone like that – could I?”

“I do not know, Aeglos.” He had somehow managed to stop his weeping, though tears still pricked his eyes, feeling shame himself in having made her comfort him when she needed it so much more. “I have never had to live with grief like that. I do not know how you or my brother could bear it.”

“We bore it for each other I suppose. Whatever else happened we always felt better when we were together. Somehow we made it bearable for each other. I wish so much he was here with me – with us… But he could not run… could not go on with me.” Her voice was soft now and Aelial’s embrace changed subtly to again offer her comfort equal to that she had shown him.

“He told me that he would take me with him… that he would kill me as well. We were going to be together for always. Properly dead, together. But in the end he knew that I had a chance to come back… and that he had to go on ahead of me. Leave me. Because there was nowhere for him anymore on this world. And he convinced me to go with him. Leave the fortress and find somewhere to die where it was safe. Where we could not be brought back. He was supposed to kill me as well… but instead he set me free and told me to go and find our kin and warn them. He left me… after I had done everything he asked of me… because… he knew he could not do it with me. Could not come back… and if he was still alive he knew I would never leave him… so he left me instead where I could not follow him. He made me promise that I would come back… that I would find a way to warn you of the danger. The hatred. He said he could not do that and so I had to do it on my own… He left me, Aelial…”

Phew, I spent the whole morning reading through that lot!