The Consort of Mordor: a Sauron x Bilbo

Cliffs and the Waves Below

The day before the final day of the Year's Agreement was very similar to the day before it started: Bilbo had spent the day baking.

Though, unlike before, he had very little to show off compared to what he had brought to their first picnic since two naughty faunts kept sneaking into the kitchens to snack on the baked goods Bilbo had made.

After dinner, Mairon and Bilbo were in the sitting room talking while the latter smoked -traders from Umbar had brought dokha, which was fairly similar to pipeweed (and while he would rather have some Old Toby he could not be picky especially since the barrel of Longbottom Leaf that Sauron had gifted him that had been found in Isengard was going to be saved for special occasions), he would have to make do with the alternative.

When something amused the Dark Lord, Bilbo sighed, "The boys are sneaking behind me aren't they?"

"Straight towards the kitchen." Mairon confirmed, "It does smell lovely, my love."

"Several bodies have wound up in gardens around Hobbiton for Old Grandma Took's rosewater vanilla cupcakes." The writer joked, he hoped Sauron knew he was joking anyways

"A terrific fertilizer." Sauron agreed, his lighthearted tone proving he knew it was a joke, "Speaking of fertilizers, how fare your tomatoes? Last time I visited your greenhouse you were telling me that they were to fruit at any time."

"They did, they just need to ripen which they will tomorrow with any luck." Bilbo answered, "And I will be able to make some nice tomato sandwiches with my sourdough."

Their conversation stayed pleasant, but eventually, the hobbit put out his pipe, "Have you made your decision for tomorrow?"

"I have." The maia confirmed

"What is it?" The other male asked

Sauron stood up and kissed his forehead, "Tomorrow night I will answer that question, precious, sweet dreams."

***

Dreams were not sweet that night, but he did learn something.

He watched as Sauron was brought to Númenor in chains, being dragged from the boat by Ar-Pharazôn in a way that reminded Bilbo of a dog that very much did not want to go on a walk.

"My people!" The king announced, "The war is over, I, Pharazôn the Golden, have defeated the Lord of Mordor and made him my prisoner. The so-called King of Men was overwhelmed by the power of Númenor, our power! Númenor is the greatest of all kingdoms of Men, making me the true King of Men."

The crowd erupted in cheers as the Dark Lord was dragged towards the palace, where among the crowd a woman was waiting she was the only person -besides Mairon, who was playing defeated but Bilbo had seen the smug gleam in his golden eyes- who was not happy.

She was tall, so tall Bilbo would have thought her an elf at first glance, her olive skin highlighted by her curled black hair that hung loosely with a golden crown that resembled coral upon her head, and she wore a sea blue gown that looked as if it were made of scales.

"My dear Zimraphel." The king greeted her, kissing her against her will

"Husband, I see you return alive." She grit, clearly unhappy to see him

He scoffed, putting his arm around her waist, "I return gloriously."

"So you say." Ar-Zimraphel replied, wiggling out of his hold

Pharazôn scowled, yanking on the chain he held to get Sauron to walk faster, "Do not be such a witch, wife. Join in on the festivities."

The scene changed and Bilbo presumed much time had passed because Sauron was no longer a prisoner, instead walking freely around the palace without so much as a guard.

The maia walked through the garden, eventually coming across the queen who was also taking a stroll, "Tar-Míriel."

"Zigûr." She frowned, before registering what he had called her, "It has been years since I heard that name."

"I have heard that it is the name you prefer, the one your husband denies you for its elvish nature." Mairon said, "I also have heard much more about you, good queen."

"I want nothing to do with you, Pharazôn might have forgotten who you are but I have not." Míriel replied

Sauron placed her chin between his thumb and forefinger, wiping off the makeup that hid the bruise on her cheek, "Then I offer this piece of advice. You have a way out of your situation, look at the hand that hits you."

The woman moved away from his touch, "Why are you saying this? Should you not be whispering your evils at the king's feet?"

"There are very few things I find truly disgusting, abuse is one such example." He answered, "Do what you will with my advice, but I can assure you that if you do, you shall not be felled by any living man."

The memory went black momentarily, before settling back to Sauron who was alone in a temple.

Bilbo could not help but blush at the sight of the Dark Lord shirtless, clad only in black harem pants that had a slit on the sides, and shoeless, with golden bangles on his arms and a golden mask covering his face.

"It will not be much longer now." Mairon said aloud to no one, walking through the ceremonial chamber, passed a statue of Melkor as he climbed to the top of the temple

Standing on the silver-domed roof, he watched lightning strike the island kingdom as the waves climbed ever higher and higher from the ocean.

Golden eyes landed on the Queen's, who was standing on the balcony of the nearby palace.

Nothing was said between them, merely a solidarity as they waited for the end they knew was coming.

Then, their bodies were snatched by the waves that crashed in the buildings they were on, the waters crumbling the island into rubble on the ocean floor.

When the waves gave way to great darkness, Bilbo found himself back in Barad-dûr, Mairon sat on his throne gazing into the city below, when another figure entered the room.It was Míriel, now a wraith, wearing one of the Nine rings that she had presumably taken from her husband before he left for Valinor.

The former queen knelt before the Dark Lord, saying nothing but her intent was obvious enough: she was enthralled by the One Ring and hence the one who wore it.

"I name you 'the Witch King'." Sauron decreed, pulling a cloak from the shadows that covered her

The cloak settling over her form clung to her spirit, reshaping her to fit how she perceived her new role to be.

Armour covered her shoulders, knees, and legs, disguising her figure into a masculine one, and finally, the Witch King's signature helmet framed her face.

Her beautiful features which had gone gaunt in death, retreated into shadow, leaving the empty void Bilbo had seen behind.