by Milly of Isengard

Pairing: Gandalf/Saruman

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: no bread made, of course. Saru belongs to me (I wish) everybody else JRR's.

Warnings: strong slash / angst / violence / torture (halfling and otherwise)

Summary: Gandalf goes alone to Isengard in an attempt to parlay Saruman into surrendering - or failing that, to at least bring him back alive. It goes badly, and Gandalf falls prey to his former friend. To make it even worse, the halflings Merry and Pippin are captured and brought to Orthanc.

Chapter 1 - Voyeur

Mithrandir crept carefully and silently, making his way up the back steps of the fern covered inlet of the River Isen - here, as he had found out - for Saruman was not the only one with spies! - here, Curunír took his repose, bathing in the captured waters of the river, and here was one of the very few places he would have his guard down.

Here, at long last, he could be bested, and with as little grief as possible. Or so he hoped.

Being put into a position of needing to subdue and overcome Curunír was not to his liking - but it could not be helped.

Helm's Deep was only a week past, and the bloodshed and agony was still fresh and raw in his mind.

Saruman! It was his doing, and not just at the behest of Sauron, either. Mithrandir had initially believed that - he needed to believe that.

But he gradually realized that Curunír was on a quest for power all his own, driven by near-madness and lust for the Ruling Ring. He had to be stopped.

Quietly as any deer, Mithrandir stole into the enclosed grove - there, by the edge:

Curunír, in his flowing white robes, had just barely arrived himself, it seemed. He looked around briefly, nostrils flaring slightly like a predator, careful, vigilant. But not vigilant enough.

As Mithrandir watched silently and intently, Curunír slipped his over-cloak off his shoulders, and it fell to the ground; then he unclasped the inner robe, and it too dropped. With a strange, and fearful sort of grace, he stepped into the water -

Mithrandir watched still, and was somewhat amused at himself, to find he was staring with vivid interest at Curunír, now nude and half-immersed in the pool of dark water.

He took it all in, not really intending to, but finding himself mesmerized by the sight. He had never seen Curunír like this before. Curunír was extremely aloof, and cold, and even when they had been very close, many years ago, he exuded a powerful air of unfriendly arrogance.

Mithrandir had not been offended - it was just his way, he had thought at the time.

But now it seemed as if the exterior attitude had perhaps hidden a greater unkindness, and was only a visible symptom of something far worse than mere conceit.

And now, as Mithrandir watched with interested, even eager eyes, Curunír slowly bathed and relaxed in the pool - he had lain down the metal staff when he had first come, and it lay on the ground like a straight black serpent.

Good, thought Mithrandir, the staff is out of the way, at least.

Curunír turned towards his direction suddenly, and again the nostrils flared. He looked around carefully, as if sensing something. Mithrandir did not even breathe.

Satisfied there was no danger, Curunír again turned his attention to the waters - he was powerfully built, long lean muscles, and very tall. Mithrandir very much did not want to have to battle him physically again:

he did not desire to harm Curunír, and being embroiled in a fight would almost certainly lead to that outcome. It would be very different than when they had last matched skills - now they were once again unevenly matched, but in Mithrandir's favor.

Slowly, with almost painful stealth, he slipped alongside Curunír while he was turned to the side - with preternatural grace, he stole behind until he was only a few feet away.

Then, suddenly, he confronted his old friend, rising up in front of him like a pale ghost.

Curunír pulled back in alarm, but Mithrandir was far too swift, and grasped him in a relentless hold - "Saruman! Listen to me! Calm yourself, and listen to me!" Mithrandir shouted at him, but Curunír was far too distressed to even hear his words. He struggled fiercely, and looked around desperately for his staff. "No, Saruman, you shall not reach the staff! Now get hold of yourself! I only wish to speak with you!" - Mithrandir knew he had to calm Curunír, or the battle would be on.

"You steal up on me as a thief in the night, and then say you only wish to talk? Then why creep up on me this way? Your motives are clear from your methods, I think!" Curunír snarled to him, still recoiling in Mithrandir's iron grip.

"I knew you would not receive me, and besides, the last time I was a guest at Isengard, I found it very difficult to escape - your hospitality!" Mithrandir answered him, and then he released his hold somewhat. Curunír drew back as much as possible, slick with the water of the pool, and with the sweat of the struggle.

Mithrandir spoke firmly, sternly: "Now listen to me, listen closely, and listen well: all this must cease! Give up this terrible path, before it is truly too late! There is already much blood on your hands, come back to your senses before it goes any farther!"

But Curunír only sneered at him, and replied scornfully: "Ah, more unasked for and unwelcome advice on my future, from he who knows all! Tell me, Mithrandir, did you really think I was interested in hearing all this, yet again? You have wasted your time in coming here, and ruined my nice bath, as well."

They were standing very close together now, waist deep in the cool water; Mithrandir edged closer still, with a mind to make a further point, and became suddenly aware of - what, exactly? Something pressing against him, and whatever it was, it caused Curunír to jump slightly, and he made a soft sound of exclamation.

Ah, so that was it! Mithrandir thought, bemused, I have - without meaning to - gotten too close, down there!

Curunír was looking at him very strangely, almost with a lost expression, as if he was not sure what to say or do next.

What, does he think I did that intentionally? Mithrandir wondered, surprised, and was about to say so, when Curunír spoke, instead:

"What - what are you doing, Mithrandir? What are you - why did you do that?" - he sounded almost awed, and then he stepped closer again, cautiously, as if he were not sure it was the right thing to do. Mithrandir did not move, indeed, he felt as if he were rooted to the spot, and so as Curunír moved closer, their bodies were only inches apart.

Mithrandir looked into Curunír's dark eyes, and then, wordlessly, for words would have complicated it enormously, he slipped off his own robes, and they faced each other in the water, the last barrier of Mithrandir's clothing gone now.

"Why did you come here? What do you want with me, or from me?" Curunír asked quietly, "You know I cannot let you leave here."

Mithrandir did not reply, but instead moved even closer, so that they pressed against each other tightly. He saw that Curunír closed his eyes, and Mithrandir slowly moved his right hand under the water and felt for him - finding what he sought, he took hold and gently grasped his fingers around the considerable length of it, and Curunír gasped, looking shocked, but very excited as well.

Curunír leaned against Mithrandir heavily, as Mithrandir stroked and caressed the very large and very hard cock in his hand-ripples appeared in the water as he stroked slowly; Curunír pushed himself into the sweet-feeling grip gratefully, thrusting into it, and leaning against Mithrandir's broad shoulder.

"Oh, oh, what are you doing to me, and why are you doing it? Is this what you came to do?" Curunír whispered into Mithrandir's ear, still pushing the swollen organ into his hand, "So good, so very good", and his voice had become very thick - he sounded almost drunken, drunken with the pleasure of it, so unexpected, and yet so welcomed.

"Curunír - lie back on the water's edge - just here-" Mithrandir found himself to be intensely aroused, now, and his own prick was making itself known to him, demanding attention with a solid, throbbing ache. As he stood up out of the water, his cock loomed up, anxious, and thunderously hot.

He half-pushed, half-coaxed Curunír out of the water and onto the edge, caressing him with such skill, and such affection, that Curunír finally wrapped one arm around his neck, and lay back on the ground, with Mithrandir descending onto him. Their cocks pressed against each other, slippery with the pool water, and the early fluid of their mutual excitement.

Mithrandir thrust against Curunír, carefully and passionately, and was stunned at how excited he was to feel his fellow Istar's large and very erect prick rubbing next to his, and his thoughts began to fog as the climax neared.

No, not like this, he thought suddenly, and with one strong hand turned Curunír on his belly, and Curunír, for his part, did not resist or even ask why, but merely moved as he was guided.

In a matter of moments, Mithrandir had him positioned rightly, and found his way gently inside - Curunír suddenly came out of his calm state, and struggled against him, almost in a panic. " Shh- shh-it's alright, I will not hurt you - keep yourself ready, and relaxed, it will be alright. Trust me, trust me. You will find pleasure in what we are about to do, I promise you!"

And so Mithrandir sought to calm the increasingly alarmed Istar under him, and at the same time pushing himself inside, with infinite care, and so very slowly.

Curunír felt the pressure become something else, altogether, and the feeling was so intense he cried out very softly, trying to stifle any sound, still unwilling to display his true feelings. There was pleasure, all right, so much so, that he could only barely silence himself. It was stunning, rapture - deep body-wracking throes. In another moment he would not be able to keep silent. It was too much.

The hard shaft inside drove all the way in, and relentlessly pushed into that place, where almost all the sensation seemed to be coming from, a certain spot, oh, it was enough to take your breath away, every time a deep thrust hammered into him. Curunír had experienced sexual pleasure before, but only with women, and although it had been very pleasurable, this was something entirely new.

This was, well, ecstasy.

And Mithrandir seemed to know it, damn him! Curunír felt utterly - taken - and he supposed he was, too.

But there was no denying this pleasure.

And then the thrusts became suddenly much faster, and harder, and Curunír felt his heart leap with a rush of adrenaline, as the shockingly powerful orgasm rumbled through him, making him cry out at last, loudly, unable to control it.

Mithrandir felt the thrashing under him, and the tightening spasms around his cock as Curunír climaxed under him - but he himself was a master of self-control, and he had made love to many, many men and women, and knew just how to maintain himself.

The idea had formulated as he rode his unlikely lover into passionate exhaustion:

the perfect way to overcome Curunír, without risking a dangerous battle -

And so he slowed down his movements, and very nearly stopped altogether - Curunír lay still and weary underneath him, their bodies glistening with sweat.

Then he began to move again, and Curunír tried to move out from under him, but was pinned to the ground.

And then the pleasure began again, and though he could scarcely believe it, he felt himself at the brink again, and the orgasm came more quickly this time, and it tore though him with a convulsive shudder.

Mithrandir at last allowed his own release, and spent deep inside Curunír's tight and aching insides. The bliss of it was intense, and he kissed the strong shoulders under him as he came.

Still without speaking to each other, they separated finally, and Curunír rolled onto his back tiredly. For several long moments, they simply gazed at one another, in a surreal mixture of desire and distrust.

And then Curunír, although he did not expect to, fell into an exhausted and sudden sleep.

Silently, Mithrandir the White rose up, and put back on his cloak, and then put Curunír's robes back on him as well.

And then, finally, he gently placed the iron manacles that he had brought with him loosely around Curunír's wrists.

And waited.