In the Darkness Bind Them

by Henrika

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

Rating: NC-17

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 17

When Gandalf regained consciousness, he found himself lying naked on a cold floor in a dark room with no windows. His head was still aching terribly, and when he tried to lift it he suddenly felt both dizzy and nauseous. It took him a while to recall what had happened, but the memories returned in due time, and when Gandalf remembered, his insides were twisted into a knot.

Sauron had said that he would give him to the uruks. The wizard began to tremble at the mere thought. What was this place, and why was he here? The answers were fairly obvious. He had been in a cell much like this one before, and he could recall what happened then.

Gandalf could hear crude voices speaking in the Black Speech outside. He recognized the Dark Lord's voice, and the other voices doubtlessly belonged to various Uruk-hai. Even though he couldn't make out what they were saying, he had no problems understanding the message. Any second now Sauron would send in those brutes to rape him. And perhaps something more. Uruks were also known to enjoy torturing their victims and prisoners in all kinds of heinous ways.

Dismayed, the wizard crawled to the darkest corner of the room and pressed up against the wall. After a while he realized that the voices had gone quiet. It could only mean one thing: Sauron had left. So, he wouldn't be here to supervise it now. Gandalf didn't know if he should be relieved or dismayed. All he could hope was that the foul beasts would become overeager and kill him before they began torturing him. Gandalf hoped for it, but he was not optimistic. Uruks were brutal, but he was the White Wizard. They all knew him and had surely agreed to keep him alive for as long as possible, so that as many uruks as possible could violate him before he died. Despite their nature, even uruks were probably not into necrophilia.

The door suddenly opened, and five uruks entered. There were more outside, but the rest were obviously going to stay there. The five who had entered were probably some of the higher-ranked uruk captains, as they were to have him first. Gandalf could not remember if any of them were amongst those who'd raped him the first time, since all uruks looked the same to him. Their crude, sadistic grins revealed their thoughts. One of them, the leader, began to laugh, pointed at Gandalf, and made gestures with his hand that were meant to represent masturbation. His companions laughed also and one of them made a crude comment, which Gandalf could not understand.

Despite his efforts not to, the wizard began to cry. He had never been so scared in all his life.

If only I had the dagger! Gandalf thought. If he'd still had it, he would have stabbed himself straight through the heart before any of Sauron's monsters could touch him.

"Look, he's weeping!" one of the uruks said with a grunt.

"Afraid of us, are ya, little wizard?" the leader asked with a toothy grin. "The Master said we could do what we wanted with you this time. Do you know what that is? First we'll fuck you until you puke come, and then we'll slice and burn that pretty white skin of yours till you're as black and scarred as we are!"

"And then we'll cut off your ears," another uruk filled in. "And your balls, and your tongue, and your eyes."

"We'll save his eyes for last," the leader said. "I want him to see what happens to him."

The uruks, with the leader in the head, advanced toward Gandalf. They all started unlacing their leggings, taking out their large, black cocks and stroking them crudely before the wizard.

Gandalf turned his face away, but he could not stop weeping. He knew that pleading with them would only have the opposite effect, so therefore he remained quiet, save for a few choked sobs and sniffles that he failed to hold back. When the leader uruk forcefully grabbed him and tore his legs apart, he did not struggle.


Must save Gandalf...

The thought echoed in Saruman's head as he shakily made his way to the dungeons to see if there was anything he could do. He knew that it was risky, but doing nothing at all was even worse. Sauron had given - or was going to give - Gandalf to the uruks. Again. Saruman was certain that unsupervised, they would kill the Istar. He if anyone knew the nature of the Uruk-hai, after studying them so closely for several months at Isengard. They would rape Gandalf, torture him, and kill him when there was no more fun to be had. He couldn't let that happen. There had to be something that he could do.

Saruman actually wasn't sure what made him feel so strongly for Gandalf. A month ago, he probably would have just shrugged at the idea of Gandalf being raped to death in the dungeons. Was he falling in love with his fellow wizard? No, that couldn't be it. He had never loved anyone, and he was damn sure that no one had ever loved him either. He wanted to save Gandalf because he needed him. His fellow wizard was all he had left from his old life, and he didn't want to lose him. His life as Sauron's insignificant servant would doubtlessly be easier without Gandalf, but right now Gandalf was all that kept him from insanity.

Why did I give in to his silly, unattainable ideas? Saruman thought ruefully. I should have known he wouldn't have a chance in succeeding. Now I have killed him. Why? Why did I do that?

The fallen wizard had no idea where Sauron had taken Gandalf or what he was going to do to him. Supposedly he was already locked up in some small cell with a party of horny Uruk-hai lining up, waiting for their turn with him. The thought made Saruman nauseous. He had not forgotten the evening when Sauron had ordered one of those beasts to molest him and he didn't think he ever would, if he so lived forever.

Poor Gandalf... He had already suffered that treatment many times. Another time was too much.

Saruman was not familiar with the dungeons, since he'd been fortunate enough not to be put there - so far. If the Dark Lord caught him sneaking down here, he would certainly fulfil his earlier promise and give him to the uruks to use as they pleased.

That couldn't happen. If he was to help Gandalf, he must not get caught himself.

Barad-dûr was huge, and the wizard had absolutely no idea where Sauron had taken Gandalf. It was a vain hope, but he went to check the cell where Gandalf had been when they first met at Barad-dûr, over a month ago. Gandalf had been dying then, and thanks to Saruman he'd survived.

How ironic, the fallen wizard thought. I didn't want to save him that time, but Sauron forced me. Fate is not without a sense of irony, it seems.

The door to the cell was locked, and when Saruman tried to listen for sounds, he heard none. Gandalf wasn't there. That had to mean that he'd been taken somewhere else.

After two hours of utterly fruitless searching, Saruman considered giving up. He strongly disliked the atmosphere down in the dungeons, and his feet had begun to ache. Besides he was cold. He thought he would never find Gandalf, and even if he did, what could he possibly do? If he tried to interfere and stop the uruks, he'd only end up getting raped and beaten himself. Maybe even killed.

In either case, the situation was hopeless. The sooner he accepted that Gandalf was doomed, the better. This time he couldn't save his fellow wizard.

Exhausted and frustrated, Saruman sank to the floor outside an empty cell and buried his face in his hands. The situation pained him, but he had realized that there was nothing he could do. Maybe Gandalf was already dead. He almost hoped so. A quick death was always preferable to a slow one filled with endless torture.

Suddenly the wizard caught a strange noise, originating from a cell a few doors away to the left. It sounded like a scream. The wizard immediately tensed. Was it Gandalf? Of course there were countless other prisoners at Barad-dûr as well, whose fates were largely unknown, but a small sparkle of hope ignited in Saruman's chest. He got up and started moving toward the sound.

He stopped outside the door in question, and carefully pressed his ear against it. A new scream, more horrid and heartbreaking than the first, reverberated from the cell, and Saruman stepped back in shock. It was Gandalf's voice. Even though the recent cry had sounded more animal than human, it was Gandalf's voice. The shrill, desperate cry was quickly followed by amused scoffs and chuckles from various Uruk-hai.

The words "Do it again" reached Saruman's ears and were shortly followed by another inhuman cry from their victim.

Saruman's first thought was to rush in, but he quickly dismissed it. A foolish act like that would only doom him as well. He had to wait. Sooner or later the foul beasts would lose interest in Gandalf and leave, and only then could he enter. Of course there was a risk that Gandalf would already be dead by the time they left, but it was his only option.

Saruman heard footsteps approaching and quickly sneaked deeper into the shadows. From there, he followed the unfolding events. The footsteps appeared to belong to a pack of Uruk-hai, headed for the cell where Gandalf was being raped and tortured.

Saruman barely dared to breathe. The uruks - a pack of seven or eight specimens - knocked on the cell door and were quickly let in by their "kinsmen". Some other uruks, who had obviously already gotten their share of Gandalf, left the cell, looking awfully smug and content, with twisted grins on their foul faces. One of them rubbed his crotch lewdly and another one made a crude comment. The pack laughed in unison, and Saruman did not even want to know what they were referring to. Listening to Gandalf's agonized, inhuman cries was more than enough. Soon it became nearly unbearable.


By the time the last uruk left, Saruman calculated that 40 uruks and two squat, bow-legged orcs had come to the cell during the hours he'd been watching, and as many had left when they were done. Gandalf's cries had gone quiet a long time ago, and still the flow didn't cease.

It was already evening when the last ones finally left. Saruman heard them speaking in a mixture of the Black Speech and the Common Tongue, and though the words he managed to pick out were few, he got the message. The filthy creatures said that Gandalf was dead.

Saruman knew he should wait until he was sure no one else would come, but if Gandalf was dead, that was unlikely. He silently came out from his hiding place in the shadows and grabbed a torch from the nearest wall.

The cell door was locked, but the key hung from a hook on the wall beside. With trembling hands, Saruman took the key, stuck it in the lock, and turned it.

The cell was dark. The first thing that hit Saruman when he looked inside was the smell. It was a rotten, sickening smell that made his stomach turn with unease. Then he could see a small, pale body, curled in a foetal position, in one of the corners.

Gandalf. It had to be. Slowly Saruman took a step toward the shape. "Gandalf?" he said in a faint whisper, so unlike his usual melodic, enchanting voice. There was no response. The shape in the corner remained unmoving.

He must be dead, then, Saruman thought ruefully. But even if that is the case, I will not let anyone desecrate his body.

Saruman gathered courage and went to have a closer look at Gandalf. He felt a strong urge to look away when he came close enough to see him thoroughly. Gandalf looked horrid. His skin had been cut and burned in various places, and there was hardly a spot that had been left untouched. And his head...

The fallen wizard knelt next to his companion, and carefully placed his hand on Gandalf's bruised forehead. Was he dead? The answer was no. There was still a pulse, although weak, and Saruman could clearly feel breaths on his hand.

"Gandalf!" he whispered. "You are alive!"

Gandalf did not react now either. He was unconscious, and Saruman hoped he would stay that way. He didn't think he'd ever seen anyone so badly beaten. It was truly a miracle that the wizard was still alive. After a closer check Saruman also discovered bite- and claw marks among the wounds on his body, and when he spread Gandalf's legs to have a look at his abused backside, he made a horrible discovery.

An empty bottle had been shoved deep inside his rectum, forcing his opening to extend beyond anything that was anatomically possible for any Man, Elf or wizard.

Saruman winced inwardly, but he still managed to grab the bottle and pull it out of his fellow wizard's slender, abused frame. The bottleneck was dripping with blood, and Saruman threw the vile object away, sending it crashing into the wall.

Gandalf was alive, but no one knew for how long. He was bleeding severely and could go into shock at any minute. Saruman wasn't sure if moving him was wise, but in any case, he had to get Gandalf out of here. Maybe there was a small chance he could be brought back to life, and no matter how small it was Saruman was going to try.

Gently lifting Gandalf's broken body into his arms, Saruman stood up and left the filthy, dark cell. He wished he would have had something to wrap around Gandalf's naked, bleeding frame, but he had nothing, only the robe he wore himself. He was careful to relock the door and put the torch where he had taken it to erase any possible suspicions. Since Sauron no longer seemed to care and the uruks believed their victim was dead, no one would come here in a while.

The unconscious wizard's head lolled over his arm. Gandalf was bleeding from his mouth, nose, and the swelling on his right temple. The only proofs that he was actually still alive were his faint heartbeats and the barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest.

Hold on, Gandalf... Saruman thought. Everything will be alright. I promise...


Saruman knew no other place to take Gandalf than his own chamber. He quickly carried the injured wizard to his bed and gently set him down. The Istar was still unconscious and showed no signs of waking up.

"Gandalf?" Saruman whispered, taking Gandalf's hand and squeezing it carefully. The other wizard did not squeeze back. He was not dead yet, but there was a risk he would never again wake up.

Saruman wasn't sure where to begin. Each wound looked more ghastly than the other. After some pondering, he decided to begin by cleaning Gandalf from the various vile bodily fluids he was covered in. Blood - dried and fresh - semen, and urine. Had Gandalf lost control of his bladder, or had the foul monsters urinated on him? It could be either or both. Saruman did not want to know.

With a soft, damp piece of cloth Saruman began to clean his friend. He got away the semen, the stench of urine, and the dried blood, but since new blood was still seeping from various wounds, it did little good. Cleaning the torn, bleeding hole between his buttocks was the hardest part. He knew how vulnerable Gandalf was to infections at this point, and his gaping orifice would draw them like moths to the flame, and in his current condition the wizard would not be strong enough to fight any infections.

When Saruman was done with the cloth, something unbelievable happened. Gandalf opened his eyes and moaned feebly, drawing a deep terrified breath.

"Gandalf!" Saruman exclaimed, squeezing the hand of his fellow wizard. "Are you awake?"

As Gandalf's vision gradually cleared, the horrible pain racking his body also returned. It was worst in his head and lower body. An agonizing wail escaped his throat, and he tried to remember what had happened before he passed out in the dungeons.

The last thing he remembered was when one of the uruks started shoving an empty bottle into him, just to see "how far his arse could stretch". After that, nothing. Where was he now? He was lying on something soft, not the cold, merciless floor in the cell. He could also feel someone squeezing his hand. The squeezing was firm, yet gentle. Who? Where was he?

"Gandalf? Can you hear me?"

It was Saruman's voice.

"Where...am I...?" Gandalf whispered hoarsely, his throat bleeding and sore from the screaming earlier.

"You are in my chamber. You are safe. Those fell beasts cannot hurt you anymore," Saruman replied reassuringly, squeezing his hand. "How are you feeling, Gandalf? Can I get you anything?"

"Pain... So much...pain..." the wizard croaked in agony. Every part of his abused body hurt and did not allow him to forget the injuries the uruks had inflicted upon him. He knew it was severe. He could feel it. Actually, he shouldn't even be alive.

"I will get you something for the pain," Saruman said immediately and stood up, ready to leave the room in haste.

Gandalf sobbed in reply. "No, Saruman... please don't leave me... I don't want to die alone..." he said, reaching out a feeble hand to grab his fellow wizard's sleeve.

"Gandalf, you are not going to die!" Saruman assured him, grabbing his hand and gently removing it from his sleeve. "I will just get you something to stop the pain, and it will only take two minutes. Then I'll be back. I promise. Try to hold on, alright?"

"Don't leave..." Gandalf pleaded again, the thought of being left alone filling him with terror.

"I promise, Gandalf. I will return soon."

Saruman gave him one last pitying look before leaving the chamber. Tears welled up in Gandalf's swollen eyes. He didn't have much time left. He could feel it. It felt like he had been torn apart from the inside. This would be the end of him. It was only a matter of hours - maybe days - now. All he could do was wait.

Saruman's trip to bring the medicines did not take two minutes, but eight. When he finally returned, he feared that Gandalf had passed away during the time he was gone. That was not the case, but the wizard's eyes were again closed and his breathing was almost too faint to notice.

"Gandalf?" he asked worriedly, placing the bowl of brew on the bedside table. "My friend, wake up. I'm here with your medicine."

After a while Gandalf slowly opened his eyes, but he showed no signs of having understood what Saruman told him.

Saruman tucked his arm under Gandalf's shoulders and gently tried to lift him into a sitting position, but even the slow, gentle movement made the injured wizard scream in pain. Saruman did his best to ignore it and put the bowl of brew to his fellow Istar's dry lips.

"Here, drink this," he said softly.

"What is it?" Gandalf asked warily.

"Tea, with opium drops. It will ease your pain. Come on, now. Drink it. It will help, I promise."

Gandalf accepted the answer and drank. The brew tasted slightly bitter, but it was hot and pleasantly soothed his sore, aching throat. Hopefully the drug would make his pain fade, if only just a little.

"Now wait," Saruman said when Gandalf was finished drinking. "You will feel better in a while. I promise."

Gandalf was afraid Saruman would leave again, but that didn't happen. Instead his fellow wizard covered him with a soft blanket and sat on the edge of the bed to hold his hand. Minutes passed, but the opium he'd been given did not have the desired effect. Instead of easing his pain that much, it made him feel nauseous and light-headed.

"Saruman, please give me more..." he pleaded.

Saruman firmly shook his head. "No, Gandalf. If I give you more, it will stop your heart."

Gandalf sighed. Maybe death was better. No more pain, no more fear... Only peace and serenity.

"Kill...me..." he whispered to Saruman, almost hoping that his fellow wizard would go ahead and do it and free him from all of this.

"No!" Saruman exclaimed in a shrill voice.

"I'm dying. You would only help... me," Gandalf tried.

"No, Gandalf. Don't say that! If you give up now, you'll leave me here alone! I would never do that to you. You will live! Have faith in it, and you will."

"You go on... Defeat Sauron, destroy the Ring... You can do it. I have faith in you."

"Right now you are my main concern," Saruman replied gravely. "I must heal you, Gandalf. You must fight. If we are to defeat Sauron, we will do so together."

Gandalf did not answer. Speaking alone was a strain on his injured body, and he didn't feel he had the strength to do it. All he wanted now was to sleep.

Saruman noticed that Gandalf was getting tired and said nothing more. He had lost a lot of blood and was still losing some. Hopefully the bleeding would stop soon, but frankly, Saruman wasn't very optimistic. Gandalf was badly torn and would have required stitches.

"Where is Sauron?" Gandalf asked faintly.

"I don't know," Saruman replied truthfully. "But don't worry, Gandalf. He won't come here tonight. I have locked the door."

Of course Saruman knew that no lock was sufficient to keep the Dark Lord out if he wanted to get in, but he hoped the answer would reassure Gandalf at least a little. He doubted that Sauron would go down to check on Gandalf tonight; he would assume that the uruks had killed the wizard and would hardly bother going down to check on a corpse.

"Can I get you anything?" Saruman asked again, hoping that there would be something he could do.

"I want to...sleep..." Gandalf said, his head lolling to the left over the pillow.

"Alright. I am quite weary myself," Saruman admitted. He thought whether he should clean Gandalf's wounds once more before the night but decided not to. Gandalf would not appreciate being touched like that, not even gently, so soon after being violated in such a heinous manner. If his condition was improving at all, Saruman would know in the morning.

Changing into his nightshirt, Saruman crawled down into bed next to his injured fellow wizard. Gandalf's body was fragile and thin, but he was still warm, and as long as there was life, there was hope. The warmth of life had not yet left him, and hopefully the wizard would have the strength and will to keep on living.

Saruman drew Gandalf's limp body into his arms and arranged their positions so that Gandalf's head rested on his chest. It seemed like the wounded wizard was slipping back into unconsciousness.

Well, Saruman thought. As long as he keeps breathing, I assume he's in no immediate danger.

Gandalf's breaths were quick and shallow, and his heartbeats were quick, which indicated loss of blood. Saruman could feel that the bottom sheet underneath them was already wet with the other wizard's blood, but there was little he could do, save hoping that the flow would eventually cease.

Despite being very tired, Saruman did not dare fall asleep once during the night, fearing that Gandalf would stop breathing when he was not awake to notice it.