In the Darkness Bind Them

by Henrika

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Gandalf/Sauron, Gandalf/various uruk-hai, Gandalf/Saruman

Summary: AU; Sauron has regained the One Ring and won the war. Gandalf is trapped. Will the Istar be able to resist the Dark Lord's attempts to break him?

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. They belong to J. R. R. Tolkien. I make no money of this.

A/N and warnings: This story is very dark and deals with disturbing matters like graphic violence, graphic rape, torture, humiliation and much more. If this is not your cup of tea, now is probably the time to turn back. You have been warned!

Archiving: My own site, Lord of the Rings - my Gandalf slash fiction and art and Meddling in the Affairs of Wizards (hopefully!) Others, please ask first.

Dedicated to: Nefertiti, for so kindly helping me with beta and suggestions. Without you this story would probably still be in a file somewhere in my PC. Many hugs to you, my dear!


Chapter 13

Gandalf waited for Saruman to come by with his daily meal, although hours passed, the afternoon became evening, and the darkness fell, Saruman still didn't come. Gandalf began to feel hungry and distressed. He listened attentively for sounds that could indicate that someone was approaching his chamber, but he heard nothing.

Saruman was always punctual, so what was happening? His stomach was growling for food, and he was getting so thirsty that swallowing made his throat feel like dry sandpaper. Besides, he felt lonely. Gandalf had gotten used to the company of his fellow wizard, and even though Saruman was still reticent most of the time, it felt good just being near somebody who did not want to cause him any harm.

Gandalf was impatiently pacing around the small room with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He still had no clothes. He had wanted to ask Saruman to bring him something; if only a tattered old robe or a nightshirt, but for some reason he had the feeling his that wish would not be granted.

He went to stand by the window again. His feet were beginning to feel cold, but he was not going back to bed. His joints had begun to ache from being still so much, and he longed for more space. Gandalf was not exactly claustrophobic, but centuries of nomadic wandering had accustomed him to much space and unconditional freedom. He felt like a bird trapped in a cage. He couldn't spread his wings and fly away anymore. All he could do was wait.

More hours passed, and Saruman did not show up. Gandalf's annoyance began to turn into gnawing anxiety. Had something happened to his fellow wizard? Had Sauron...? Gandalf tried to think of a reason why Sauron would be upset, but he could find none. He hadn't even seen the Dark Lord in the past few days. Had Saruman done something to anger him? Gandalf hoped not. He still remembered the welts and scars that crossed Saruman's back with painful plainness. He really didn't need more of those. But of course; Sauron didn't need a reason for the abuse. Boredom was reason enough for that foul excuse of a Maia.

When his feet were almost numb, Gandalf finally went back to the bed. He leaned against the wall and drew his legs up toward his chest, resting his chin on his knees.

Saruman... he thought. Please come...


Saruman spent the evening and the night alone in his bedchamber, trying to come to terms with his feelings. The Dark Lord's malicious words had pierced his heart worse than any blade could have done. It made his chest ache in a strange suffocating feeling, and the lump in his throat could not be swallowed down.

He knew that he was expected to go to Gandalf's chamber to deliver his daily meal, but as it was now, he couldn't induce himself to face his fellow wizard. Not even for a short moment. Gandalf would look at him, notice something was obviously wrong, and ask him about it. He couldn't stand it.

As always, Saruman was alone. He knew that no one would knock on the door to his chamber to ask how he was feeling. No one cared. Even if he died in this room, no one would care. It would take days, perhaps even weeks, before someone even found him. He was not important.

The fallen wizard laughed bitterly to himself. Important? Why would he be important? The Dark Lord certainly didn't think so. Sauron had taken him in and allowed him to stay at Barad-dûr, but not out of affection. He was not a close, trusted servant like the Witchking and the other Nazgûl, and even most uruk captains got more appreciation than he.

Saruman had long since given up his hopes to become something more than he presently was. Gandalf was the only one who still cared about him. While in his arms, Saruman had almost felt loved. That could not have been an illusion. Gandalf was not so cruel. He couldn't be.

The lanky wizard was sitting on his bed, arms around his knees and back against the wall. He was cold. He was always cold. The simple robe Sauron allowed him to wear was not sufficient to keep away the cold from this dark place and certainly not from his heart. His window was the size of that in Gandalf's chamber, though this one had no bars across it. The fallen wizard glanced toward it. The sky was paling now, and the twinkling stars were beginning to burn out in the light of day. It was dawn.

Saruman thought of Gandalf again. Gandalf had not been fed in quite some time. He must be hungry. Saruman knew that it was his duty to feed Gandalf and make sure he recovered, and he must not forsake that. The Dark Lord would become furious if he knew. Saruman sighed. Everything he did seemed to arouse Sauron's fury.

He didn't want to face Gandalf right now, but letting him starve was not alright either, especially as Saruman didn't even know if what Sauron had told him was true. The Dark Lord was a cruel and malicious being who took joy in watching others' anguish.

That settled it. The wizard slowly dragged his body out of bed and crossed to the door. He had to make Gandalf's meal. He was already about twelve hours late, and that alone was bad.

This was going to be an ordeal. He could sense that. While heading for the kitchen, he prayed with all his heart that Sauron would not be there this time.

He wasn't. Saruman caught himself breathing a sigh of relief. He was angry with himself for his own cowardice and fear of the Dark Lord. Spending eternity here at Barad-dûr, surrounded only by unfriendly faces and constant fear of Sauron was not an encouraging thought.

He hastily prepared Gandalf's meal; bread, vegetables, an apple, some butter, and a cup of hot tea, and finally a portion of the herb brew. He also wanted to give Gandalf some meat, but he could never find any in the kitchen. Perhaps meat was a luxury not meant for simple servants and prisoners. If any of the other kitchen slaves had been around, Saruman would have wanted to ask about that, but he didn't bother trying to find one.

Lifting the tray with the finished meal, he left the gloomy kitchen and headed for Gandalf's chamber.

The Istar was still asleep when Saruman carefully opened the door and stepped inside. He breathed out, hoping he could pass through the room, set down the tray, and leave again without waking Gandalf. That would be best, as Saruman really didn't feel like confronting his fellow wizard and answering questions about his absence yesterday.

He was not so lucky. Startled, Gandalf awoke when he heard the faint tingling sound of something metallic being put on his bedside table. His eyes snapped open only to discover Saruman was standing by his bed looking down at his sleeping form. At once his head felt lighter and a genuine, relieved smile spread over his face. Saruman was here now, and he wasn't hurt. Then everything was alright.

"I brought your food," the fallen Istar said without looking into Gandalf's eyes. "I must leave now..."

He turned around, intending to rush out of the room before Gandalf awoke properly and could comprehend what was going on, but he did not succeed.

Gandalf quickly jumped out of bed and ran after Saruman, catching his arm in a firm grip. The wizard's fingers felt strong on his arm, and Saruman resisted the impulse to break free and push Gandalf away.

"Gandalf, let go," he said flatly.

"Don't leave yet!" Gandalf said, failing to keep the surprise and disappointment out of his voice. "What is it, Saruman? Why don't you want to stay?"

"I have to go. Really. Just let go," Saruman murmured, trying unsuccessfully to find a better excuse.

"Did he hurt you?" Gandalf asked, suddenly worried. He moved to stand in front of Saruman, grasping his shoulders with both hands. There were no obvious welts on his face now, but that didn't mean he wasn't hurt. "If he hurt you, you should tell me," he said gravely, trying to catch Saruman's gaze. It seemed like the other wizard did his best to avert his eyes from Gandalf's.

Saruman shook his head.

"Then what is wrong?" Gandalf asked imploringly. "Are you angry with me?"

Gandalf's face was as open and honest as always, and Saruman could spot genuine concern in his gentle blue eyes. Gandalf's hands travelled up along the sides of his neck to finally cup his pale cheeks. A part of him wanted to push the Istar away, while another part simply wanted to forget everything Sauron had said and just lean into Gandalf's caring, protective embrace.

He did neither. Gandalf was the first to speak.

"If you are angry with me," he said slowly, "I would really like to know why."

Saruman briefly glanced down at Gandalf's naked body. He was cold despite wearing a robe, and Gandalf had recently been very ill. He must not catch the chills once more.

"Gandalf, go back to bed," he said in a hoarse voice, still not quite able to look into Gandalf's eyes.

"Alright, but you are going to stay," Gandalf replied. "I want to talk to you."

Saruman's reply was a simple, overcome nod. Gandalf dragged him back toward the bed and crawled down under the covers, but instead of telling him to sit down, he opened the blanket and beckoned to Saruman to crawl in next to him.

"No..." Saruman said hesitantly, "I probably shouldn't..." He clearly recalled what the Dark Lord had told him about intimate contact of any kind with Gandalf, and he did not want to find about what would happen if they were caught. Maybe Sauron could even read his mind? The thought was a frightening one.

"You look cold," Gandalf said. "Come on, now. My bed may not be big, but it is warm."

Saruman gave in and took off his felt-boots, though nothing more, before crawling down into the bed beside Gandalf. The heat of another body against his felt so wonderful - even through the fabric of his robe - that he could almost forget the Dark Lord's cruel words. Slowly he began to relax in Gandalf's arms, and an unfamiliar kind of serenity settled over both his body and mind.

"Now, tell me," Gandalf said softly. "What has happened?"

"I will not be allowed to see you after you have fully recovered," Saruman replied. "Sauron... He... he knows that we..."

Gandalf sighed. "Did he say anything else? Did he say why you are not allowed to see me?"

"He said you were a whore, who simply lay with me because you believed you would benefit from it...and...and...he said I am ugly and worthless and that no one would touch me willingly."

There was a long silence, and after a while Saruman could hear the sound of Gandalf breathing out. Then the wizard said, "And you believed everything he told you?"

"Well, it was somewhat difficult to misunderstand his orders and ignore his threats," Saruman replied sarcastically.

"I meant what he said about us. Did you believe him?"

Saruman closed his eyes, feeling miserable. He knew that he should say that of course he hadn't believed any of it, but that was not entirely true, and he didn't want to lie to Gandalf. He detested himself for being so weak. Gandalf was the only one who had shown him affection and compassion, and Sauron had made him believe that it was not sincere? He knew now that Gandalf would never do anything like that to him, and Sauron's malicious attempt to poison his mind made his eyes water from anger and misery.

"Nay, I do not believe him..." he whispered.

"He only wanted to lower your self-esteem and make you resent me," Gandalf said. "You are too smart to fall for that, Saruman. I think Sauron fears that we will unite against him."

Saruman drew a sharp breath. "Gandalf!"

"You know that it is true," Gandalf said bluntly. "He knows that I would take the first chance I get to rebel against him, and now he fears that I will convince you to follow me. He doesn't want to risk that. Therefore he thinks it is best to keep us separated."

"Gandalf..." Saruman breathed, "...you don't seriously think that..."

"I don't think anything. I know," Gandalf said. "That is his reason."

"I...I cannot defy him..." Saruman whispered.

Gandalf gave a brief chuckle. "Oh, Saruman, dear, I am not asking you to rebel against your Lord. I know how much you fear him. I was merely pointing it out."

Saruman, still shocked at the hint he believed he had have grasped in Gandalf's "statement", said in a shaky voice, "Do not speak of such things, Gandalf. Who can know what the Dark Lord of Mordor can pick out?"

"Now, calm down, Saruman," Gandalf replied and rubbed his fellow wizard's arm in a soothing way. "Let's not speak of it anymore. I don't want you to feel uneasy. We can speak of something we both find suitable."

Saruman turned to look into Gandalf's eyes, as blue as the sky on a cloudless summer day. The Dark Lord's eyes were blue also, though his were cold as ice, and a look from them caused Saruman to feel as if he were standing naked in the middle of a snowstorm. Slowly, the fallen wizard leaned forward and placed a soft, gentle kiss on Gandalf's lips.

Gandalf didn't recoil, nor did he look disgusted. He was only smiling, sadly, it seemed, and the look in his soft, blue eyes was mildly surprised and questioning. They had not kissed before. They had already lain together, but kissing was somehow much more intimate. Saruman had never kissed anybody on the lips, and Gandalf had only done it with lovers.

"Why did you kiss me?" Gandalf asked, brushing back a lock of white hair from Saruman's face.

Saruman closed his eyes, not knowing what to say in reply. Kissing Gandalf was nothing he had planned. It just seemed right at the moment.

"Never mind," Gandalf said with a chuckle. "Do it again."

But instead of waiting for Saruman to make his uncertain, tentative move, he captured the lips of his fellow wizard in a kiss more ardent than their first one. Saruman gasped into his mouth, but soon he gave in to the incredible feeling and melted into the kiss, allowing Gandalf's tongue to slip past his lips and explore the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. He felt Gandalf's arms snake around him, pressing their bodies even tighter against one another.

Saruman's body responded, causing a stirring in his loins, and soon he could feel his member hardening and rising, engorged, against his stomach. His heart was beating faster now, and his breathing was ragged when he finally pulled his mouth away from Gandalf's.

Gandalf had of course noticed his old friend's arousal. Slowly, he pulled Saruman's robe up, not surprised at the fact that he wore no undergarments this time either, and grasped the erect cock in his hand. Saruman moaned and writhed impatiently, rubbing himself against Gandalf to create further stimulation. He knew that what they were doing was dangerous. Sauron could walk in on them anytime, and if that happened, Saruman - and presumably Gandalf as well - would be in a lot of trouble. This was the first time Saruman had deliberately defied his Lord. He was terrified, but it also felt exciting in a way, like a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach, to be doing something he wasn't supposed to. In fact, it felt like a small victory.

Gandalf stroked the member in his hand a few times, slow, leisurely strokes, taking no heed to Saruman's squeals and squirms. This was Saruman's punishment for doubting him. He would make sure he had his fellow wizard begging before he moved on to something more stimulating.

"Oh, Gandalf, please...touch my pleasure spot..." Saruman breathed.

Gandalf smiled. "Do you want that?"

"Oh, yes. Please." Saruman could clearly remember the almost stunning jolts of pleasure that had shot through his body when Gandalf touched that particular spot inside him, and he wanted to experience the feeling again.

Gandalf slicked his fingers using the pre-come that was leaking from Saruman's cock and then gently pressed them against Saruman's opening, begging entrance. The muscle was taut at first but quickly relaxed when Gandalf slid his fingers inside and brushed the spot that could send any male crying into ecstasy. When Saruman's first moan of pleasure sounded, he slid his fingers deeper and started thrusting rhythmically, hitting the spot on every move. He could feel the gland with his fingers and couldn't help wondering if Saruman had tried to do this to himself. It would take some practice, but in time, once he knew his own body, he would learn to give himself a much pleasure without the help of anyone else.

Maybe I will teach him, Gandalf thought.

Saruman didn't last long this time. He came with a howl, and his creamy spurts stained Gandalf's sheets and the floor, though they miraculously managed to avoid Saruman's own dishevelled robe, now pulled up to his waist. Stains of semen on black fabric would have been painfully obvious, so he was happy that incriminating evidence could be avoided. It would have been difficult to explain to Sauron how the stains had gotten there!

"Now, that was good, was it not?" Gandalf asked, placing a wet kiss on his fellow Istar's slightly parted lips.

"Oh, yes... Beyond good, I think. You really know how to do this!" He looked down at his outstretched body and could see that his now-flaccid cock had left a creamy trail of juices along his pale thigh. The fallen wizard chuckled faintly. What if Sauron burst in right now and found the two of them like this? There would be no way he could explain this away.

"Can I do the same for you now?" he asked Gandalf. Like last time, Gandalf had been the one working on him, and unlike last time, he wanted to give something back now.

"Dear, you don't have to," Gandalf replied hesitantly, knowing that Saruman was anything but experienced in the ways of giving pleasure and could therefore feel awkward or disgusted or both. Besides, he was sure to be clumsy.

"Maybe I cannot do it right, but I want to learn," Saruman persisted. "I would like to...taste you," he confessed. "Will you let me try it?"

Gandalf recalled when Sauron had used his mouth to force unwilling pleasure on him, and he shuddered at the memory. This was, however, not Sauron but Saruman, the only person he had left from his old life.

"Yes, you can do it," he said with a weary smile. "But only if you feel you want to."

"Oh, I do," Saruman insisted, glancing down at Gandalf's half-erect member. He wondered what it would feel like in his mouth. Well, he was soon going to find out.

Gandalf lay down on his back and tried his best to relax, as Saruman settled between his legs and began to work on his member with his hands. The fallen wizard now began to feel a bit insecure and awkward. How was he supposed to do this?

"I...I'm not sure what to do," he confessed, embarrassed.

Gandalf chuckled. "Oh...just take it in your mouth and suck... You don't have to go all the way down. But try not to use your teeth. That might hurt."

Tentatively, Saruman took the head of Gandalf's hardening cock into his mouth and closed his lips around it. The taste was a little salty, but it wasn't as disgusting as he'd feared it would be. He slid a little deeper, and a stifled groan escaped Gandalf's lips. The meagre wizard's hand soon cupped the back of his head and began stroking his soft white hair, encouraging but not forcing him to go deeper.

Gandalf groaned in both pleasure and pain when he felt the scrape of Saruman's teeth over his sensitive, throbbing cock. His fellow wizard was not experienced, that much was clear, but Gandalf let the slight pain happen and tried instead to focus on the pleasure that was also involved. Saruman's eagerness made up for his lack of technique, and soon he had Gandalf gasping and writhing on the bed, bucking his hips and nearly gagging Saruman, who had to pull back not to reflexively throw up on Gandalf's lap. His fellow wizard had quite a generous endowment, and though he had wanted to take it all, it was impossible for him, at least until he learned the proper technique.

Gandalf invitingly spread his legs and had to clutch the sheets with his toes to stop himself from thrusting harder into Saruman's hard-working mouth. Suddenly he felt slight probing around his opening, and Saruman pulled back long enough to whisper, "Can I touch your pleasure spot?"

"Yes..." Gandalf breathed back. "But slick your fingers first..."

Saruman coated his long, slim index finger with saliva before thrusting past Gandalf's puckered hole into his hot, incredibly tight channel. He soon found the nub and was not even sure what he did, although the effect it had on Gandalf proved he had been successful in his search. He took the quivering member into his mouth again, and this time he took it as deep as he possibly could without gagging. Gandalf thrashed wildly against the sheets, his loud moans echoing in the stone chamber.

"I am...going to...Ahhh!" Gandalf cried before he went into an overwhelming spasm he could not control and then gushed something that felt like litres down Saruman's throat.

Saruman pulled back, coughing and spitting, his throat convulsing and fighting hard to rid itself of the bitter, salty liquid. He had not been prepared for it at all.

"Oh, I'm so sorry..." Gandalf said when he noticed what discomfort his release had caused Saruman. "I should have warned you. Inexperienced ones never want to swallow it the first time."

Saruman breathed heavily a few times, before he could speak. "No harm done, I suppose..." he muttered, although his throat still burned.

"You were very skilled for a beginner!" Gandalf said appreciatively, brushing back Saruman's hair from his sweaty forehead. "Thank you very much. Was it pleasant for you?"

The fallen wizard smiled wryly, still with traces of seed on his lips. "It was, until you erupted into my mouth, but I suppose that is something I can live with."

They lay down again, side by side, both weary and languid. Saruman's robe was still rumpled around his waist, and Gandalf made an effort to pull it down with one hand.

"You should have taken it off," he said. "Now it's all wrinkled."

"I doubt it matters..." Saruman sighed. "Now it feels like I just want to go to sleep..."

"Then sleep," Gandalf said, rubbing Saruman's shoulder with slow, languid strokes.

"No, I cannot linger here. If Sauron comes here and finds me... It would be bad for us both."

Gandalf sighed. It already was bad for them both, he realized. It occurred to him that he hadn't really thought of what would happen once Sauron no longer considered him to be "on the mend". He had been removed from the dungeons only because he risked dying if he was left there, and Saruman had been allowed near him only to nurse him. Was Sauron going put him back there once he was recovered, or worse; was he going to be used as a pleasure slave?

The wizard shuddered at the thought. He would never submit to Sauron and obey his every command like some dog! He knew that as a pleasure slave he still had the chance of living a somewhat comfortable life, but to do that his spirit had to break, and that was not a cost he was willing to pay. He would rather spend a lifetime in the dungeons with rats, than eternity in bed with Sauron!

I have to get out of here, he realized. Maybe there is nothing left of the Middle-earth I knew, but I want to see the sky once more before I die.

"Saruman," he said carefully. "Do you know...has Sauron told you...what he has done with the Shire?"

"What shire?" Saruman asked.

"The Shire. I... I promised Frodo that..."

"You mean your precious little Halflings?" Saruman said, now with a slight trace of scorn in his voice. "Who knows, and who cares? Even if they aren't dead yet, they will be soon, and you are powerless to stop it."

"Are you sure you don't know what has become of the Shire?" Gandalf asked. "I mean, Sauron hasn't told you..."

Saruman gave a scornful chuckle. "Do you jest, Gandalf? The Dark Lord doesn't exactly discuss politics with me. But I can assure you that your little Halfling friends are almost certainly beyond your help, so leave it."

"But Saruman!" Gandalf said imploringly, and there was now a new kind of light in his eyes. "I promised Frodo that... that I would not let the Shire fall."

"Your Halfling friend is dead. You are no longer bound to your promise, whatever it was," Saruman muttered, clearly not happy with the topic of discussion.

Gandalf's face grew darker at the mention of Frodo's fate, and he said, in a low, steady voice, "Yes, Frodo is dead, but that does not mean I can fail in my promise to him. The Shire... Help me escape from here, Saruman!" he said with sudden fervour. "Help me out of here."

"Tell me you're jesting!" Saruman exclaimed, with an expression of genuine shock on his face.

"I am not," Gandalf said firmly, and the look in his blue eyes confirmed that fact. "There is still a chance to make things right. We can defeat Sauron and destroy the One Ring and save what there is left."

"Gandalf! I can't believe you actually said that! You fool! Do you have any idea what Sauron would do if he heard you right now? If you really are serious, you are more foolish than I ever thought!"

"Saruman, we have an obligation!"

Saruman snorted, and the look he gave Gandalf was filled with scorn and contempt. "Maybe you have, but in that case, you are on your own."

"Saruman, provide me with a cutting tool," Gandalf said. "I'm going to cut the Ring from Sauron's finger, and then I'll take it to Mount Doom and cast it back into the fires where it came from."

Saruman, shaking his head, jumped off the bed and stared down into Gandalf's resolute face with fear evident in his eyes.

"You cannot be serious. Please tell me I did not hear that!"

"Saruman, please..." Gandalf said, disappointed in his fellow wizard's reaction to his suggestion. "I can't imagine you want to spend the rest of your existence here as Sauron's slave and punching bag!"

"Rather that than what is going to happen if he catches me helping you escape!"

"Then escape with me. Two can fare better than one. We could still save lives..."

"Gandalf, no! Do you have any idea what you're talking about? Even if you somehow manage to escape, what will you do? Where will you go? You are alone."

"Not if you help me," Gandalf said.

"I won't listen to this. It is folly!" Saruman exclaimed angrily. He wanted to rush out of the room to spare his ears Gandalf's idiocies, but something in the wizard's gaze kept him riveted to the spot.

"I am sorry Gandalf, but I can't help you," he said sternly and hoped that he had made his point clear. "Dismiss such thoughts from your head. There is nothing you can do."

"Well, there certainly isn't, if I give up without even trying!" Gandalf remarked, glaring up at his cowardly fellow wizard. Saruman hadn't changed, of course. He should have known that. He was still egocentric and cared little of what happened past the point of his own selfish little sphere.

"Don't you care at all?" he asked quietly.

"Gandalf, I do not want him to abuse you, but he will, worse than ever, if he catches you plotting something like this," Saruman replied. "I have to leave now. Please think this over once more."

"What will he do with me once I am fully recovered?" Gandalf asked suspiciously.

Saruman sighed, and it was painfully obvious that he had his fears, just as Gandalf himself did. "I know not," he said. "But eat now. That will make you stronger."

"Yes, so Sauron can torture me, without risk killing me in the process," he said acidly. He glared at the tray Saruman had brought him, although he could not deny that his stomach craved the food.

"Gandalf..."

"Leave, Saruman. Go and serve your master, as that seems to be the purpose of your existence now. I'll manage."

"You know I cannot help you."

"No," Gandalf sighed. "I know that now."