In the Darkness Bind Them

by Henrika

Rating: NC-17

Pairing:Gandalf/Sauron, Gandalf/various uruk-hai (for now).

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!

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!

Website: Lord of the Rings - my Gandalf slash fiction and art


Chapter Two

About a day passed before they came back, and this time Sauron was accompanied only by three brawny uruks. Gandalf was not asleep when the door opened, but he tensed reflexively when he heard the sound of a key being turned in the lock.

The Dark Lord entered and ordered the uruks to stay outside. They did, but all three were looking very attentive and regarded the scene in the dungeon with great interest.

Gandalf's heart started beating faster when Sauron advanced, but he was strongly determined to show them all he was not easy to break. Sauron was again wearing a mask that covered his face so that Gandalf could not see his eyes, but he met what he thought was Sauron's gaze and decided not to avert his eyes this time. A more humble approach might have caused him less trouble, but Gandalf knew Sauron would probably kill him no matter what, so it didn't make a big difference, really.

At least I will die with my honour intact, he thought.

Sauron casually bent down and jerked Gandalf to his feet by seizing his arm in a firm hold. It all went so quickly the wizard didn't even have time to struggle. He was roughly shoved toward the doorway by Sauron, and once they were outside he was thrown into the arms of the uruks that weren't slow to seize both his arms in a rough grip. Not that Gandalf thought about resisting, let alone escaping. There was no way that could be done, and even if he somehow managed to flee from Barad-dûr, he had no place to go. Sauron's men and beasts were probably everywhere by now, so it would not take them long to hunt him down and catch him again.

Gandalf's legs were stiff and aching after so many hours in the uncomfortable cell, and he had trouble keeping up with the rest of the company. The uruks dragged him rather than led him. When he stumbled over something on the floor and unintentionally almost dragged his escorts down with him, one of them snarled something in his ear in their own barbaric language and slapped him across the face. The other one was going to do the same, but a sharp reprimand from Sauron made him lower his hand.

"He is not to be injured," the Dark Lord told them. "Come on. Follow me."

Gandalf was led through a long dark corridor, and he started to think they would never stop before Sauron suddenly did and lifted his hand, gesturing at the uruks to stop too.

The wizard's head hung low, and he didn't feel like raising it and checking what was going on. Instead he shook forth his long hair over his face, as if he'd wanted to hide behind it. He wasn't looking but could hear the sound of a door being opened. He had absolutely no idea what Sauron was going to do to him, but he suspected it would not be anything as quick and simple as decapitating. With growing terror Gandalf realized he had to prepare for the worst.

"Bring him inside," was Sauron's next order, and the three uruks obeyed instantly. He could feel their excitement and assumed they probably knew what was going to happen with him, or at least had a vague idea.

Once inside, his captors roughly shoved him to the ground, and when he raised his head to see where he'd been brought, he was surprised.

One chair was the only piece of furniture inside the room. Sauron himself had gone to stand behind the chair, and when Gandalf looked in his direction, he was lightly stroking the back with his taloned hands.

"Stand up, Olórin," he said.

Gandalf did what he was told, and started to rise from the floor, hoping that the uruks would not yank him up this time. His arms and shoulders still hurt from the ruthless treatment he'd received only minutes ago.

Once he was on his feet again, he couldn't help asking, "What will you do to me?"

A short while passed, but instead of answering the question Sauron gave his three servants a new and very harsh order. "Take off his clothes. Now," he said.

Gandalf's heart almost skipped a beat when he heard it. Now he started to understand. They were going to rape him! Either Sauron would do it himself or have these foul, brutish uruks do it, which he feared more. A cry of protest escaped his throat, but the uruks were over him in a second, tearing at his already tattered clothes, removing them in large white chunks of fabric until Gandalf was standing naked in their midst.

He wrapped his arms around himself, partly to protect himself from the cold, and partly to shield his body. His humiliation only seemed to excite the brutes further, and one of them tugged at his hair almost gently, rubbing the silky strands in its filthy, clawed hand.

"Bring him here," Sauron said and he motioned to the chair.

"What are you going to do...?" Gandalf asked, sounding more terrified than he had intended. He now realized that the chair had to have something to do with his punishment, but he couldn't figure out what.

"Sit, Mithrandir," Sauron's cold voice ordered.

Before he could comply, he was more or less shoved to the chair by the uruks and shivered when his naked skin came in contact with the cold metal of the chair. It was bolted to the floor, obviously to keep its occupant from struggling too much.

Gandalf refused to unfold his arms, so the uruks had to pry them loose from his body and place them on the armrests, where Sauron wanted them. He was then tied to the chair with thick leather straps, securing him to it.

Gandalf had ceased struggling, and for long Sauron simply stared at the naked, bound figure, strapped helplessly to the large metal chair. Gandalf's head was bent, and his long hair concealed his face, but Sauron could still hear that he was weeping silently. He had once been a powerful Istar, almost equal in power to Sauron himself, and now he was nothing.

Breaking him will be a true pleasure, the Dark Lord thought to himself.

Hearing the steps of someone entering the chamber, Gandalf raised his head, and saw another uruk, carrying a bucket of water in one hand and something wrapped in a white cloth in the other.

The uruk looked questioningly at his lord, and Sauron nodded back shortly. The foul creation approached Gandalf, put the bucket down, and unfolded the cloth so that everyone could see what it contained.

It was a razor. Gandalf barely managed to suppress a shriek of terror when he saw it, but his trembling bottom lip and glassy eyes clearly revealed his true feelings.

"No..." he whispered.

"Yes, Olórin, you probably guessed correctly," Sauron said, with hints of amusement in his cold, hissing voice. "I will have them shave your head. Ah, but don't despair; you will probably come through it uninjured if you keep still."

Despite its being pointless, Gandalf's instincts told him to struggle again, and this time he wasn't sure he would be able to calm down. The uruk that was obviously going to shave him took a few steps in his direction, and now Gandalf was screaming.

"Keep that thing away from me!" he cried and started thrashing wildly in the chair. Suddenly Sauron stepped forward and seized him by the hair, pulling his head back, exposing his throat.

"Now keep still, you dog, so he can shave you properly without causing too much damage! I want you to live through this, not bleed to death!"

Gandalf knew he probably was right, so he stopped struggling, and though nothing could make his tremors go away, Sauron decided that he was calm enough to be shaved. He ordered the uruk with the bucket and razor to begin his task.

The creature nodded. It took out a large hunting knife it kept in its belt, grabbed a handful of Gandalf's soft, white hair, and began to saw it off. Tears were streaming down the wizard's face. He was still trembling but tried to keep still so the uruk wouldn't accidentally slip with the knife.

The procedure was repeated until all that remained of Gandalf's hair - and beard - were a few scant tufts. The uruk had not been overly rough, but it still hurt, and he assumed the worst was yet to come.

Sauron had been watching the whole time with his arms crossed over his chest. When the uruk had finished with the hunting knife, he cocked his head and regarded Gandalf closely. The wizard didn't meet his gaze this time but stared numbly down at his own lap.

"That was good," he said sternly. "Now finish it."

Gandalf's scalp, and what remained of his hair, was wet with the water from the bucket, and this time the razor was placed against his head and neatly removed the short spikes that remained. The uruk was working slowly and with remarkable caution, which made Gandalf wonder if he had done this before. Maybe Sauron had humiliated some of his other prisoners by shaving their heads before executing them. It was a possibility.

He managed to get through it with just a few cuts. Scalp wounds bleed easily, though, and he could feel the warm blood trickling down the sides of his now smooth head. His beard was gone too, and his face felt naked and empty. It was a strange and peculiar feeling, but at least it was over now, he thought with relief.

He was wrong.

"His nether hair also," Sauron ordered grimly once they were finished with his head.

Gandalf drew a sharp breath but realized protesting was pointless. He was smooth now except for the white curls located around his member, but soon they would also be gone. He knew that this would be even more humiliating than having his skull shaved, but struggling would not get him anywhere.

The uruk that had shaved him regarded him closely and then turned to its master.

"My Lord," he said, "I think shaving him in that chair might be...hard."

Sauron seemed to ponder the statement and then agreed with a nod. "Undo the straps and hold him down then. Make sure he keeps still."

The leather straps were loosened, and Gandalf was dragged out of the chair and placed flat on his back on the floor. His limbs were pinned to the floor, making it very difficult for him to move, and his legs were spread wide.

The uruk that had shaved his head and face approached him eagerly, with the blade ready in his hand. The edge glinted wickedly, despite the poor light. All four creatures were grinning down at him, and when the one with the razor bent over him, he could only turn his face away and grimace in disgust. His groin was wet as well, and he could soon feel a large coarse hand moving his shrivelled yet surprisingly large member aside. He hated to feel the hands of those foul things on him, and the urge to struggle was huge, but he managed to fight it down, knowing that they would probably cut him if he moved.

Gandalf shivered when the sharp blade scraped over his tender, white flesh, leaving sore, red marks.

Suddenly he heard Sauron's cruel voice saying, "You had better keep still throughout the ordeal, Mithrandir. Neither of us would want him to slip, right? At least I have no desire to watch you bleed to death so soon."

Gandalf's breathing grew even more ragged when he felt the blade scraping over his sensitive sac and a powerful tremor passed through his body. For a brief moment he believed they would geld him but was relieved when the blade was removed and his arms and legs were released.

He opened his eyes again and could see that all four uruks had moved away from him, and with a sigh of relief he struggled into a sitting position, tentatively moving his hands over his now smooth pate.

"It feels strange, does it not, not to have that white mane of yours anymore?" Sauron questioned.

Gandalf didn't answer, but it did. He had never, during all his time in Middle-earth, cut his hair, let alone shaved it off. It actually felt like he had lost a bit of himself - an important bit.

"Can I please have a robe?" he asked quietly. "Or will you kill me now, Sauron?"

"No," Sauron said shortly. "I will not give you a robe, and I will not kill you." He nodded at his four uruk servants. "Take Mithrandir back to his cell, and make sure he is fairly comfortable. Those dungeons can get cold, especially at night, so I suggest that you give him a blanket. I would rather not have him freeze to death. This was just the beginning of your ordeal, Olórin," he then added. "I have many exciting surprises in store for you."

Gandalf tried to swallow down a cold lump in his chest. What he had been forced to endure today had been humiliating, but he was sure something much worse would happen tomorrow. For a moment he almost wished that he would not live through the night to find out what.