𝗔𝗻𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗿 | LOTR & Marvel Crossover [PART 1] ✓

10 | Shuri likes to fix broken white men...or elves

10 | Shuri likes to fix broken white men...or elves

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Tony Stark | Iron Man

Location: Formenos, Aman

Time: September 2980 T.A

Tony Stark remembered the first time he was captured.

From the moment he died, it had been fifteen years since he was taken by the Ten Rings; he survived with a car battery in his chest and forced to create weapons for the terrorist organization. It was there Tony's mind, and possibly his heart, changed. Call it a life and death situation, but then again: no one could ever be the same after almost starving in a cave with a doctor.

He still remembered his name.

Yinsen.

The kind man should have lived, had he not run into danger just for him to lead the front part of their assault. It was the first time someone died for him, and Tony would forever keep it in his mind that there were people in this world that didn't deserve such a terrible death. Those whose hearts and minds were not worth the chaos he laid waste on.

And yet people still died. People he didn't know and people he should have known more. He thought finally doing something good, knowing to Strange that it was their only chance – that Tony would finally rest.

But here he was: in chains and forced to follow the orcs dragging him down the large and dark corridor.

Where he was, he wasn't sure anymore, if he was still in these 'Halls' or somewhere else. All he knew for a fact that: the being who took him and the lovely redhead elf, Nerdanel, knew him.

The Merchant of Death.

Stark.

He said his name eerily like another. A certain purple nut-sack-chinned alien more specifically. Hearing them rasp darkly from their mouth and letting it settle over his mind and heart, trickling down like tar.

If Tony could feel cold, he was probably zero Kelvin then. His nuts would probably fall over if they didn't shove an overly large linen shirt on him as well as some trousers that could almost replicate pyjamas. They forced him to wear boots, a new leathery smell as they then shoved him through the door.

Or more like tossing him like a football. Thank his own instinct being tossed for years to land the best way possible, hitting the hard stony ground with a thud and a grunt.

Hearing the orders from who was probably the lead orc (it was still hard to comprehend that he met one of those dudes), they all cackled before there was a large slam and the revibrating of metal doors and locks. Talk about being welcoming about it, this Morgoth guy didn't understand that humans are a little more fragile.

Tony groaned, shuffling slowly to his knees before massaging his arms. The bruising will probably come soon and would probably stop him from what the guy wanted him and the others to do.

It was pretty obvious if you knew him easily, which was the case for Morgoth shockingly.

Tony shakily inhaled. He wasn't ready again to do this. Not now when it has been so recent for him. He was forced again to combat the very thing he hated: to be used as a source of weaponry. To be at the hand of killing thousands of lives again.

He stood up and noticed his surroundings. Like one of those medieval shows, he was locked inside a large forge, filled with several fires, workbenches and tools. They were all worn down and used, things he would have to get used to working with.