The Consort of Mordor: a Sauron x Bilbo

Making it Work

Bilbo watched from the top of the tower in this memory, seeing Sauron and a woman he did not know who was wearing a flowy black dress, looking down at the army approaching the entrance of Barad-dûr.

"We must stand against them. Destroy them!" The woman said

The wind around the hobbit whispered the word "Shelob" but the two in the memory did not react to it, telling the writer that he was being answered on who the woman was.

Sauron shook his head, pulling a ring from his pocket that Bilbo recognized as being one of the ones the Nine wore, "They will only keep coming. Sacrifices must be made."

"You would abandon me?" Shelob asked, her voice hitched with betrayal

The Dark Lord got closer to her, holding her chin with his thumb and forefinger, his golden eyes glowing orange as he repeated, "Sacrifices must be made."

He then left, going down the many stairs to the entrance of the fortress city, his armor appearing as he grew taller.

The gate opened and Sauron went out, every step shaking the ground, not stopping until he stood in front of the human king.

Piercing his sword into the ground, Sauron then knelt before the king, his armor fading into red and gold mist as his fair form was revealed.

Mairon extended his hand, presenting the king with one of the Nine Rings.

There was no hesitation in the Man, he took the ring and immediately put it on; the maia's eyes glowing orange seconds before the king's did the same, sentencing him to his fate to become one of the Nine.

The scene changed and now Sauron was on a balcony looking over the ocean, the sun setting before him.

"You are different than I was expecting." The king said as he walked onto the balcony

Sauron turned to face him, "What were you expecting?"

The king stood beside him, looking towards the sunset, "I am not sure, perhaps for you to try to get into my good graces like everyone else."

"If Númenor was invaded tomorrow, Pharazôn, would you praise the leader?" Mairon asked

Ar-Pharazôn shook his head, twisting his ring, "No, I would rather die."

"Then you understand how I feel." The maia replied, "But I have no interesting in dying, I do not have time for such trivial things like death."

***

Bilbo woke up the following morning to little hands poking him, his green eyes opening to see thirteen-year-old Frodo staring at him (though, to a human, they would say Frodo looked seven years old with how they aged faster than hobbits)

Mairon was watching from the doorframe, not intruding on the moment, but witnessing it all the same.

"Good morning, Frodo." Bilbo greeted with a yawn, sitting up in his bed, hoping his face did not give away how surprised he was

The faunt smiled, "Hurry up and get dressed! Uncle Mairon said breakfast is almost ready!"

The older hobbit glanced over to the maia mentioned before looking back to his nephew, "Did he now? I'll be out in just a minute."

Frodo did not have to be told twice, rushing out of the room past the Dark Lord on his way to the breakfast table.

"'Uncle'?" Bilbo asked

Sauron nodded, "Do forgive my presumptuousness, but I found it to be the easiest way to explain our relationship."

Bilbo nodded, knowing that he had agreed to a relationship regardless of the result of their deal, "It is an accurate description."

***

Breakfast was the tensest meal Bilbo had experienced since arriving in Mordor, but the two faunts -as Sam was also in attendance- were absolutely oblivious to the older hobbit's emotions.

It was one thing for Mairon to be affectionate toward him in the casual domesticity they had created over the past few months -pet names and kisses to the shoulder and forehead were the most adventurous the Dark Lord had been- it was another to have an audience now.

When the meal concluded and the two boys went to play, Bilbo waited for them to be engrossed in their game before talking to Sauron. "What do they know?"

"They are aware of their location, my identity, and our relationship. They do not remember their healing sleep, as far as they are concerned it is just a normal birthday for you and Frodo." Sauron replied, "The rest of what they need to know, is up to your judgement."

Bilbo nodded, he would have to take it as it came then, "Thank you for waking them."

Sauron cupped his chin, pressing a kiss to the hobbit's lips, "I find it hard to deny you that little. Happy Birthday, my love."

The acknowledgement of the day hit Bilbo like a slap to the face, making him forget about the touching of lips momentarily: he was a hundred and twenty-nine today and yet his body was forty; Frodo was fifty-one today and yet he was a faunt again.

Once Sauron was gone doing whatever he did most of the day everday, Bilbo stood up and got brushed off the nonexistant creases in his clothes.

Hobbits were good at making do with what they had, it was why they were typically a very happy people, so that would be what he did: make do.

Making his way to the kitchen, Bilbo got everything ready to make a small birthday cake for himself and Frodo.

Rummaging through the cupboard, he found everything he needed to make a nice honey cake and got to work making it.

Baking and gardening always had the power to clear his head of worry, even if it was just for a little while -any of his previous neighbors would tell you in the years following his 'adventure' he had nearly put the town baker out of a job with how much he baked and gave away and that his garden was the grandest.

Once the cake was cool enough to touch, he cut them both into four pieces and drizzled them with a honey simple syrup before added his filling and stacking each layer, lacing it generously and dusting the finished cake with crumbled up scraps of cake.

He had just enough leftover frosting to write "Happy Birthday" on top and left it on the counter in the cake tower for the small party he planned to throw tonight.

"Does it count as a party when half the people in attendance are the one's whose birthday it is?" He wondered momentarily before busying himself again cleaning up

***

Bilbo did have to admit he had missed having faunts to look after.

After spending the past near two decades in Rivendell being treated like an invalid because of his advanced age where he could do nothing besides read -which he had taken full advantage of, hardly making a dent in the grand libraries there-, and then a decade before that Frodo had been at age where he no longer realied on him, Bilbo had no one to look after constantly.

But with Frodo and Sam little again, he did.

A very rogue part of his mind wondered if it would ever be possible to have children of his own, after all he had no clue how Sauron's kind reproduced, but he did not even touch that through with a ten foot pole and let it disappear.

Several thousands of years ago, there had been a blight in the Shire that affected females more often then male, leading in the population dwindling and, in their moment of need, it was discovered that some males could carry children but it was incredibly rare and very risky as there was no natural way for the baby to get out.

But as years passed and the male carriers had been able to help get the population of females back to normal, midwives trained to deal with male carriers now and it was all nice and good.

Bilbo, did not know for any certainty if he had that ability or not, but he doubted it seeing that none of his romps as a young adult before reclaiming Erebor had led to anything.

No, no. Frodo and Sam were all he needed and all thoughts of babies were banished from his mind henceforth.

Going back to the scene at hand and watching the pair of faunts play, Bilbo smiled, thinking not for the first time that he could be happy in Mordor.