Chapter Six

{Barad-dúr and the South Downs, Tuilë 3200 SA (approx. mid April)}

telepathy

The garish glow of the lava that oozed from Mount Doom cast the pale face of Ecthelion into a marring screen of shadows as he stared out at the desolate and Orc-infested land below him. His gaze was dull, yet hard and cold, not unlike that of the killer he had become over the last two centuries. But, if one were to look closely, they would see the fire of defiance and discipline within the grey blue orbs as they glared icily down at the swarming masses of dark creatures. The face and body that held in the determined faer of this Elf was lean, yet not gaunt even with all he had done and been through since his rebirth. His body was clothed in a simple grey shift that went down to his knees, while his once luxurious dark hair was bound in a braid down his back, limp with lack of care and malnourishment. His chances for cleaning himself were few and far between due to his surroundings, so he had learned to live with being unkempt and filthy.

With his body’s transformation, Ecthelion’s metabolism had changed to adjust to the strange modifications and urges he faced, becoming faster to absorb all of the meat he had to take in. He would manage to eat some vegetation and breads when he was away from his ‘Master’, which had the added affect of keeping him sane and Elven when he was his normal self. He had learned to control his transformations save for the nights of the new moon, where he lost his humanity to the predator within. But, even though he could control his transformations, he could not fight Sauron’s control for long in his beast form. In order to survive, his heart and mind had become cold and hard to any feelings, his hatred for Sauron driving him to fight back and work to break the hold that Sauron had on him. But, in the depths of night when he was alone, he mourned for the Men and Dwarves he had murdered.

Breathing in deeply of the acrid air that surrounded the burning land of Mordor, Ecthelion contemplated what he was witnessing. He had a feeling that, with the new moon only two days away, he would be sent on another hunt and the Orcs that were assembling would be joining him as both body guards and accomplices. It did not matter to him either way. He killed them when the new moon was over with and, while Sauron punished him for doing so, it was almost as if the Maiar was amused by his continuing struggles and striking out.

He heard the door open and the swish of robes on the floor as his ‘Master’ entered, but he did not react, as he usually did in these times. He had nothing to react to anymore. He neither acknowledged nor ignored the hand that glided across his arm and shoulder, keeping his gaze focused on the activities below. He gave no sign even of caring as a lean solid body pressed against his from behind before he was pinned to the body with a strong arm around his waist. He merely blinked slowly as he watched what was before him.

A quiet chuckle left the Maiar's chest as he watched the commotion as well over Ecthelion's shoulder, his chin resting on the slim shoulder. He turned his head slightly to look at the hollow profile of the Elf Lord and smirked. "I want you to go through towards Mithlond and kill a band of Elves that will be traveling from Lindon to Imladris," Sauron murmured lightly as if they were speaking about what they would like for dinner.

"I will not," Ecthelion whispered harshly as he stared out at the vista in front of him, his grey blue eyes rigid with his rebelliousness as he stood motionless within Sauron's hold.

Chuckling once more, Sauron nuzzled the pale neck facing him before licking at where the invisible collar he had created two centuries ago was. Ecthelion stiffened, his face twitching as he tightened his jaw in an effort to resist the pain and command that was flooding through him at that simple contact. "You will do as I say, Ecthelion...you can not resist me for long," Sauron murmured against the taut neck before nipping at the same spot he had licked.

A quiet gasp of agony forced its way out of Ecthelion's thinly pressed lips as he struggled to maintain his control. "Never!" he spat out in a hiss as he shook with the force of their battle. He could not stop the groan that left him as his body arched in pain when Sauron tightened his hold on Ecthelion's waist, pulling him closer as he increased the force of his will.

"You *will* obey me, Ecthelion. It is in your own best interest after all," Sauron whispered softly against the moist area he had licked. He smiled as he felt the tremors that were shaking the taut body in his hold. He slowly raised his head, brushing his lips over every bit of skin he came across until he came to the pointed ear. “Glorfindel has returned to Middle Earth,” he murmured on a husky breath into the gently curved ear and smirked as Ecthelion froze in his arms. He tilted his head forward a bit, his smirk growing as he saw the look of utter shock on the Elf’s face. It took a lot to create such a reaction, but Sauron knew what buttons to push.

“Glorfindel? He...he has returned...” Ecthelion whispered unwittingly, then growled as he closed his eyes tightly against the betraying anger, jealousy, and treachery he felt rise up within him at the image of Glorfindel, his beloved Glorfindel, kissing Turgon with the same tenderness that he would show to Ecthelion in front of his own eyes before he had died then.

“Aye, he has returned and shall be going to Imladris. Will it not be such a wondrous chance to take this time to...greet him?” Sauron suggested lightly, as if they were talking about what they were going to be eating later that day for tea.

Clamping his mouth tightly shut, Ecthelion struggled against his need for the vengeance that Sauron offered him and the desire to stay himself and not give in to the urge to kill once more. “No...I refuse to kill my kin...” he finally ground out, panting harshly with the strain of his battle.

Obey me, Ecthelion...you will obey me and kill Glorfindel and his party...

“Never!” Ecthelion shouted against the mental taunting and command that was straining his resistance. He could not move away so great was his fight that he was exhausted just with standing. But he would not give in this time.

Have you forgotten how he betrayed you? Sleeping with Turgon after declaring love troths to you, going to Turgon’s bed while you guarded your gate...where is the loyalty? Ecthelion gasped as the images that were suggested became real in his mind and he felt his hurt and betrayal rise up within the embers of his heart. Sauron smirked softly as he sensed that the battle was almost won. He ran his hand down slowly until he came up under the grey shift and cupped the Elf’s suddenly straining member.

Ecthelion arched and cried out, both shocked and needing the touch that had not occurred since he had been turned. Their battles had always been mental and of pain, but not since he had been transformed had he ever been touched intimately by the Maiar. His hands came up to stop Sauron, but instead clutched at the softly clothed arms, neither hindering nor helping them as he was touched.

Obey me, my Ecthelion...you are mine. Obey me... Sauron whispered both mentally and verbally as he stroked the hardened flesh that pulsed in his hand. He smiled cruelly as Ecthelion sobbed before arching up with his climax, which spurted out to soak the grey cloth and Sauron’s hand. He had won.

Slumping and pulling away, Ecthelion kept his gaze away as Sauron licked his hand clean. He shuddered before drawing in a deep breath and straightening. His eyes became shaded and hard once more, unreadable by any save Sauron. The Maiar grinned in malicious amusement before he went towards the window. “There is a party of Orcs already on their way. They are by now past Dunland and shall reach the South Downs by tomorrow. You are to meet them and intercept the party from Lindon, which will be approximately around there.” He turned and looked over at the stoic Elf Lord. “I want you to make sure you kill Glorfindel and another of his party for certain. The one named Erestor,” he added quietly, darkly.

“You underestimate the strength of the Elves,” was all Ecthelion retorted with before turning away. Slowly, his body rippled and reshaped itself, elongating as it became fur covered and dangerous while he transformed into his panther form. He snarled as he glared at Sauron, but accepted the caress to his large head and delicate ears. He growled as he stretched and then yawned before pacing towards the door.

Nodding, pleased, Sauron purred softly as he followed his servant out of the stark room. “Go, my pet...teach the Elves that they are no longer immune to my wrath,” he murmured as he watched the sleek shadow leave his halls, melding perfectly with the shadows before his eyes. Yes, Ecthelion was his best and most difficult minion. Not that he minded...

Ecthelion moved through Mordor and into Gondor, passing over the Anduin at the Cair Andros before going through Anórien and near Edoras, which he then went along the Entwash through West Emnet. By the next morning, he was near Fangorn and stopped just before turning into the dark forest. He strangely felt comfortable and safe within the ancient woods and transformed. He walked along the gnarled paths that trailed through the trees, evidence of other creatures that dwelled within the safe haven. He tilted his head as he listened to the trees speaking with each other, feeling almost comforted by the groaning words of ancient knowledge. He looked around in reassurance before he came to a spring. A rare smile crossed his lips before he stripped off his grey shift and stepped into the cool pond.

A soft sigh of contentment left him as he dipped under the little waterfall that flowed nearby and began rinsing off the accumulated dirt. He unbraided his hair and looked around, smiling again as he saw the dried soap clay on the edge of the pool. Carefully, he went over to the bank and scraped up some of it to aid his cleansing. A few tears rolled down his face as he washed himself, feeling his very self be purified, if only briefly. After a while, he left the pool, feeling refreshed and more himself. Pulling on his shift, he sighed quietly as he gazed around at the peaceful forest, longing to stay but already feeling the evil presence of Sauron within his mind telling him otherwise. As he looked up the sky, he knew that he would come there again when he was free, if only to live in peace.

With sorrow and resignation, he transformed back into his panther form and left the calming refuge, skirting around Fangorn and then Isengard before crossing the River Isen in the Gap of Rohan. He then traveled swiftly through Enedwaith, crossing the Greyflood by twilight, and, just as dawn was once more peeking over the horizon, he came upon the South Downs and found the troop of Orcs that he was to be leading. He changed and entered the cave they were hiding in, eyes narrowed as they growled or snarled at him, some standing with their weapons out threateningly at him. “Where is Grúsh?” he demanded coldly as he crossed his arms over his chest imperiously. He glared at the Orc that stalked forward, a large grotesque Orc that was missing half of its face and had several leaking scars on its chest and arms. “Have the scouts found our targets?” he asked quietly, his voice as glacial as the icy mountains of the Hithaiglin.

Grunting, the Orc leader nodded brusquely. “They were spotted near the Shire of those Halflings earlier,” it reported with a growl.

“Good, then you shall attack at twilight. I will give you the sign after I find their party specifically,” Ecthelion responded before turning away to look out at the sunlight terrain that surrounded them. He turned as he heard some snarls of dissent and tilted his eyebrow in question as he gazed upon the gathered rabble within the cave. “Do you have a problem?” he asked in a bored tone of voice.

One of the other Orcs shuffled forward as it glared at Ecthelion. “Why do *we* attack the Elves? The Master stated that you would be,” it asked gutturally, nodding with the other Orcs around it as they growled or snarled in agreement.

Calmly, Ecthelion shifted forward slowly, then, moving faster than eye could see, grabbed the nearest Orc’s sword from its hand and sliced the opposing Orc’s head off cleanly, straightening as the body fell with a thud. He looked coldly at the silent troop as they stared at the fallen usurper before he tossed the sword onto the body silently. “Any more questions?” he asked lightly, albeit flatly. He waited a bit as he looked at the Orcs before turning and striding outside. His message was clear.

Once outside the cave, he transformed and loped off into the hills of the South Downs, heading for the Old Forest. He came near Bree and stopped, sniffing the air as the wind blew up around him. He transformed into his Elven form and strode into the nearby forest, watching as the group that they were stalking came around the bend, obviously at ease and unsuspecting of their fate. He felt his heart stop as he saw near the center of the group the Elf whom he both loathed and longed for desperately. Golden hair that flowed down to the pale steed’s rump in glittering waves of light framed the sturdy body that burned his own with need, or at least it had in the past. He swallowed hard as he heard Glorfindel’s warm laughter as the golden head tossed in mirth at whatever had been said by the Elf that was riding next to him.

Feeling unexpected tears fill his eyes, Ecthelion looked away as pain and loneliness as well as hatred welled up within him at the sight of his lover. He took in several deep breaths before returning his gaze up to watch the traveling group. He blinked as he saw that they were halted, the entire group focused on the golden Elf at the center of them. Glorfindel was in turn alertly gazing into the forest that they passing close to, so close that Ecthelion could see the blue eyes that had once been so mesmerizing to him that he had pledged himself to the Elf that possessed them.

Glorfindel stared into the woods intently, focusing almost directly on the area that Ecthelion was hiding within. Ecthelion found himself holding his breath in surprise and concern as the scrutiny continued, earning queries into Glorfindel’s concern. But after a bit, Glorfindel shook his head and smiled sheepishly at the gathered before turning them from the woods. However, as Ecthelion watched the troupe leave, he saw Glorfindel turn a bit to look over his shoulder once more at the forest, searching for whatever had attracted his attention in the first place. Disturbed, Ecthelion stayed in the trees for a time, just watching the group of Elves grow farther away before he left his hiding place. Did Glorfindel sense his presence?

Shaking his head, the Elf Lord sighed quietly, wiping his hand over his face before transforming and sprinting at an angle from the group towards where his troop was stationed. He arrived just an hour before sundown and came into the cave. “We go now. They are a league from here. Go,” he ordered icily and stepped to the side as the Orcs, roaring in challenge and bloodlust, charged past him. He watched them leave for a bit, smirking as he knew that he had timed it just right in that the Orcs would be too thrown off by the remaining sunlight that was still about an hour to setting. But he would also help out the Elves of course...

Transforming once more, he went swiftly towards the camp just ahead of his ‘troop’ and changed back into himself. He crept close to the camp and gazed into it before looking around for the position of the sentries. He saw them and nodded before slipping into the shadows and traveling towards the nearest one. He came out of the shadows and locked eyes with the sentry, tilting an eyebrow imperiously as he lifted his chin. The Elf, obviously confused, came forward hesitantly as soon as he noticed the pointed ears. Nodding, Ecthelion lifted a finger to his lips before whispering, “You are in danger. A troop of Orcs is heading this way from the hills. Use the remaining sunlight, but be swift.”

The Elf’s eyes widened in concern and surprise before becoming serious as he nodded in understanding to what had been told him. Turning away, the sentry went back into the camp and a few minutes later, the hushed activity showed that he had succeeded. Smirking coldly, Ecthelion melded into the shadows and watched calmly as the Orcs came into the attack, only to be surprised when they were instead the attacked. The battle went swiftly, but, as the last of the Orcs were killed, the evening had come upon them. And so had the new moon.

With a groan, Ecthelion felt the crushing hold of his beast form claim him and his cry echoed out around the battle wearied Elves. He snarled before stalking forward, his golden eyes glowing with malice as he came into the camp before the startled Elves. His lips parted in an evil sneer as he growled lowly, his body rippling with his movements as he tracked towards them. The Elves moved into defensive positions warily as they observed the slow actions of the predator. Ecthelion’s ears tilted forward as he watched them before snarling and jumping forward in attack, startling them as he landed on the Elf he had spoken to. He slashed swiftly, silencing the screaming Elf into death before facing the remaining Elves, licking his chops as he grinned.

His glowing eyes focused on the golden Elf as he strode forward, holding his Orc blood stained sword up warningly as he gazed at the panther. “You are the one...the one who has been killing Men and Dwarves...” Glorfindel whispered as he watched the panther, noting how large indeed it was...almost the size of a Man.

Or an Elf.

The panther growled as he crouched down before focusing on the Elf just behind Glorfindel. He stopped, straightening up as he stared at Erestor, eyes wide with surprise as he saw his own likeness standing before him. He stepped back in shock before snarling in rage, eyes glistening with tears as he trembled with his treachery. He saw how protective Glorfindel was towards the other Elf and it enraged him further at the betrayal. ‘I will take all whom you love!!’ he cried in his heart, roaring with his sorrow and anger before launching himself at Erestor, claws extended to tear out the pale throat of the Elf.

Erestor backed up swiftly in alarm, sword up defensively before him as he blocked the sharp claws that threatened his life. Glorfindel sprung to the rescue as he charged and knocked the predator off of the Advisor, being scored in return on his arm as the stunned panther lashed out after orienting himself. Backing away quickly as he held his injured arm, Glorfindel stood between Erestor and the hunter as the others came closer in and faced the growling creature.

Backing away as his glowing eyes faded and changed before their eyes, the panther disappeared slowly into the shadows. They did not attempt pursuit, instead setting to work in tending to their fallen comrade’s body before moving to another site for the night after burning the Orc corpses.  But, as Glorfindel had his wound tended to by Erestor that night, he thought over what had happened with the panther in the attack. The Elf sentry that had been killed had been the one to inform them that he had been told that the Orcs were coming. He had seemed confused, but determined to impart the information that he had mysteriously learned. Before they had been able to know the source of his information, they had been forced into battle.

But what had confused Glorfindel had been the pain and sorrow he had seen within the panther’s eyes, something that should not have been possible in a beast. And it had been directed at himself...and Erestor. Sighing quietly as he gazed at Erestor while the other Elf worked on his arm, he smiled softly.  Erestor returned the smile as he finished before they settled down for sleep.  As they went into reverie, Glorfindel found himself thinking about Ecthelion. He prayed once more that his love was safe.

Moving swiftly through the night, Ecthelion cried in his pain as he ran, moving through the shadows like liquid darkness. He came to the Greyflood and stopped, panting as he groaned in his grieving and anger before plunging into the cold waters. He crossed the sluggish currents swiftly and shook himself dry on the other side before collapsing. He stayed there until dawn, transforming back into himself before curling up. He released a wail of agony and despair as he wept in betrayal and regret, his hands clawing into the soil and grass he laid within as he trembled with his despair before falling into a deep reverie. His peace now seemed forever lost.

TBC