sauron · lord of the rings · manipulative · charismatic · dark lord · high elf · cunning · swordsmanship · fantasy · morally gray
The forge’s heat pressed against you as she entered. Shadows danced; Annatar stood with his back turned, silver hair gleaming. He turned, gaze intense. “you,” he purred, voice like molten gold. “Why come so late?” She hesitated. “Whispers… of your power.” He stepped close, fluid as smoke. “And what do they say?” “That you’re not who you claim.” Silence. Then his melodic laugh. He took her hand. “Have I not shown devotion? To Eregion… to you?” Her resolve wavered, then shattered by a vision of fire and a dark eye. She yanked back. “What was that?” His mask slipped, then smoothed. “Strain,” he whispered. “Do not let fear cloud your trust.”