Author: Az Email: az.ombie[at]gmail.com Homepage: http://www.forgottenjuliet.net AN: This fic is written for the 8’th LoM challenge. This challenge was about rare and odd pairings, and well this was the oddest I could come up with and write at the same time. This little fic is my own warped little tribute to ‘Boxing Helena’. This fic is smutless, for the sole reason that I ended it where I did, I was really tempted to throw in some elf pr0n there, but I figured that would just be too much, so I will leave all that up to your dirty minds gals and germs. I don’t know what it is with insane Elladan and me; he kind of grew on me that character. Should you wonder who the feck Annatar is, it will all be reviled in the end *smiles* Betaed by; ErestorJunkie. Rating: R Disclaimer: none of these characters are mine, sad but true. Summary: Elladan stumbles across a ruin on a orc hunt, it keeps something dreadful inside, something that will try to lure and trick the young son of Elrond, will Elladan succumb? Or will he prevail? Warnings: Disturbing issues, dismemberment, Pairings: Annatar/Elladan implied. Forever dark woods. :: We could plan a murder, or start a religion :: Jim Morrison For as long as he remembered, Elladan had been riding out with his twin. Be it at their fathers bidding, or on their own account, seeking the vengeance of their lost mother. It was a hunger inside the young elf that never seemed to be sated, burning within him as a flame threatening to eat him from the inside. He ‘used’ to ride out with his twin, Elrohir; dark, ferocious and deadly. They had been like dancers on a grotesque stage of death, they ‘used’ to be, and they were no longer. His twin had chosen to take himself a wife, chosen another path, and therefore betrayed his brother, betrayed their goal, their fight. Had he forgotten what they had been fighting for? So now Elladan rode out by himself, many had offered him company. He had refused them all. None were worthy of the legacy of his other half, the extension of his blade, and the extension of his very soul. :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: This day he had been riding the wilderness alone for weeks, he did not seek any company, nor did he even go to a human village to buy supplies. He would hunt and kill what he needed to eat in order to survive. He was well aware that his father would worry, but it would be weeks yet before he sent the golden seneschal to track him down and fetch him home. Home to what? Why return home, just to long for being outside once more? Never! He swore to himself as he rode along in the rain, scouting grimly after the surviving orcs of the pack he had encountered days before. Never would he fall in love, never would he betray his goal, never would he sell his very essence for a sweet kiss of a female. He lived by the sword because he chose to. His tired mind registered that he was lost. He did not remember any of this, the trees were crooked and the sky wwas dim. He knew he had passed Lorien, he recognized the outskirts of the vast woods a week ago. Skilfully avoiding his grandmother and grandfather’s guardians, the Galadrim. He had passed these borders unnoticed. He was fully aware he should give up on finding these orcs, but his bloodlust urged him on, every time his spirit faltered, he would see a fresh footprint, or other indications that the foul creatures had passed. His father had once pulled him aside, warning him to not become as dark as those creatures; to this day it brought a smile to Elladan’s sullen face. Elrond was a warrior of old, he had been taught in the fine art of war by the sons of Fëanor himself, this he had then taught his sons, and Elladan still carried the sword of Maedhros with him. Even if he were half elven, he had to admit to himself he was tired, wet and lost. He had been riding for days without sleep; even his ever- faithful horse had started to stumble from fatigue. “We could do with some rest my friend,” he whispered to the horse as he leaned in over the neck of the animal and ruffled its mane. Elladan slid from its back and to the ground, walking them toward some trees. As he got closer he could make out a building in the middle of what seemed to be a clearing. The whole thing seemed wrong somehow, and every cell in Elladan’s body told him to jump on his horse and just get away from there as fast as possible. He turned his head and looked at the poor beast, it looked worn to the bone. They ‘had’ to rest if he didn’t want his horse to collapse under him, so he started to walk toward the strange building, dragging the horse along. Stopping in front of the great double doors of the building, actually it was more a low tower than a building, Elladan looked up to its roof, seeing to his relief that whatever broke this tower in two, left the floor to become a new roof, now overgrown with plants and flowers. At least they would be dry, he thought to himself as he slowly walked up the crumbling stairs, dragging the horse after him. Entering the base of the building, Elladan stood still and listened, he heard nothing beyond his and the horse’s breathing. After some long moments he decided they were alone, turning to the horse he slowly removed its reins and unfastened its saddle. Elladan felt a pang of guilt as he saw a big festering soar on the horse’s side where the saddle was strapped on. He knew he had been pushing both him and his horse, but he had had no idea the animal was in pain. Running a hand over the horse’s back he whispered “Go and rest.” Elladan watched as the horse slowly walked over to the far end of the room, leaning against the mural, before with great trouble laid down on its side and huffed heavily. Truth is Elladan didn’t really know if he would have stopped before now, even if he had had the knowledge of his horse’s condition, odds were he would have left the horse to its own devices and continued on foot until he was able to buy a new horse somewhere. Wandering up the remains of a staircase, he strained his eyes to see something in what had rapidly become pitch-blackness. Nothing was up there as far as he could tell, nothing but a round table, no chairs. He walked over to the table and ran his fingers through the thick dust, it had inscriptions, but he was not really bothered to know what it said right now. He registered that it had to be elven, quenyan to be exact. But he never did care for learning these things, much to his father’s despair. He yawned as he walked downstairs once more, rubbing his eyes. He had to admit that sleep would be welcome, laying down against the horse, Elladan curled up into a little ball, alone in the dark like this he could almost imagine he heard breathing /ah, that is just Elrohir/ his tired mind told him, and he quickly there after drifted off into a coma like sleep. :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: Waking, Elladan was so confused that he did not even register it was still dark; startled he sat up and out of habit went for his dagger. Something was wrong. The horse! It was gone! And with deadly grace he jumped to his feet, there it was again, the breathing he had been sure he had heard when half asleep. Only a fool would call out, so he decided to slowly move in the direction from where he heard the soft noise. The little half tower seemed like a maze inside, and Elladan tried to register where he was in order not to get lost. The breathing was closer, turning a corner he saw a staircase that went down into utter darkness, but the son of Elrond had no fear, and so he stuck the dagger back into his boot, and drew forth the sword of the fëanorian. If anything lunged out at him, they would be sliced in two. Careful not to make a single sound he started descending the dark stairs. As his eyes got more used to the dark he could make out that this was no ordinary cellar, this was a dungeon. But why would anyone in their right mind stay down here with old ghosts and dust? Elladan decided that whomever he heard breathing had to be mad, and therefore unpredictable and dangerous. Gripping harder around this handle of the sword, his knuckles turned white. Walking down the corridor, he did not care to look into the little openings in the thick wooden doors, not caring what was in there, all he cared for was finding whom ever it was that was alive down here, and resume the hunt for the foul creatures he had chased this far. The breathing was loud as thunder in Elladan’s ears now, standing outside this one door, it looked mostly like it had been burned, but yet had taken no real damage, inscriptions all the way around the frame intrigued him, but as that too was written in Quenyan it made no real sense, some of the words were missing, and some again he had never seen in his life. He could make out the words of ‘shell’ and ‘chained’ but the rest was complete rubbish. Reaching out a hand he ran it along the burned crispy layer of the door, the door seemed bolted and locked with otherworldly locks and chains. But as he tested the thickness of the door, it slid open almost as if it moved on its own accord. Elladan was struck, for the first time in his life, he felt ice cold fear in his heart, whatever had lured him here, was indeed behind this door. And it seemed to welcome him; this was most uncanny! But still Elladan stepped forward over the threshold, and with no light to guide him he stood still at the doorframe, turning around he saw a figure. “Halt,” he hissed, but the figure did not move. Waiting for some time, he then moved carefully forth until he could see the figure more closely. It was an elf, chained to the wall with giant bolts, Elladan stepped closer and slowly reached out an arm, he noticed his hand were trembling, but something inside him, his gut instinct screamed! As if something would jump out of the elf and bite his hand off, or worse. But nothing happened, the elf just hung limply from his chains, and even Elladan wasn’t this ignorant, all he saw was a trapped elf who needed help. “who did this to you?” he whispered, but he received no answer. Not until he pried off the shackle around the elfs wrist, the unknown hurt elf groaned, Elladan nearly slit the elfs throat; this was how jumpy he felt. “GNnn” “Hush,” Elladan said harshly. “Let me get you out of here before whom ever did this comes back.” The other elf opened his eyes and then squinted, he tried to wet his lips to say something, but nothing but a croak came out. Elladan stopped trying to pry the shackles, and looked at the elf, “water?” he whispered, and the chained elf nodded. “I will have to leave you and come back then” Elladan hushed. And as the elf nodded again, he quickly turned and ran out the room, upstairs to his saddlebags. He wondered where his horse had gone, but decided he had no time to search for it now. He went back into the dungeon, and couldn’t help but to feel a little relieved that the elf was still hanging on the wall where he left him. Elladan uncorked the drinking hide, and gently let the other elf drink. “Thank you,” the other elf breathed, and Elladan just smiled. Then he continued trying to pry off the restraints. After what seemed like hours, Elladan wiped sweat from his forehead, and flexed fingers that had cramped up a long time ago, but his determination to get the chains of the elf had made him continue relentlessly. But now he finally let his arms fall to his sides, and with a very ungraceful move slumped down on the ground. At first he had thought it was his own mind, but after a long minute it occurred to him that it had been the other elf who spoke. “You won’t get them up.” Elladan looked up, “You could have given me that information hours ago,” he snapped. The elf nodded. Elladan tossed the knife he had been using to try and pry the shackles to the other side of the room in aggravation. “Who made those chains anyway?” he hissed, never before had he met an obstacle that could not be solved in some way. “One should think they had been crafted by the Valar themselves.” The elf hanging from the wall smiled sadly, but did not answer Elladan’s question. “Say elf, is that not the sword of the Fëanorian?” he finally whispered. Elladan nodded, “Aye, this sword I got from my father.” “You lie, the Fëanorian bloodline is cold. There are none left to carry its name,” the elf said, raising a questioning brow. “Call me a liar once more, and you shall see the vast halls of Mandos before you intended,” Elladan hissed “I speak the truth elf,” he turned his head and looked up at the dangling elf. “This sword was given to my father, by its owner, and then passed to me as the eldest son.” The chained elf let out a dry chuckle. “I see,” he said, “Pray tell. Who might your father be?” Elladan’s mouth became a fine line, “my father is not a thief, if that is what you are implying.” However, when the other elf remained still Elladan sighed and said more calmly “Elrond, my father is the lord of Imladris.” “Ah,” the elf said. “The king’s herald,” he nodded and smiled. “History is known to me, even when trapped like this, I know the elf you speak of, he was the Fëanorian’s little orphan.” Elladan nodded even if he didn’t like the tone in the other elfs voice. “Yes, he and his twin, Elros.” The chained elf nodded. “Aye, its a wonderful paradox isn’t it?” Elladan looked puzzled, and the chained elf chuckled softly, “the first owner of this very sword you carry, also were the blade that killed all of your fathers kin” Elladan frowned, “you lie elf, my grandmother aided my grandfather in the sky when sailing his ship, Vingilot.” The imprisoned elf laughed softly. “Aye that is true, you know your history little one. But do you also know of your mother’s family?” Elladan nodded, a little hesitant, and the elf continued, “Maedhros ordered them slaughtered, did you know that? But your grandmother escaped with that cursed gem of Fëanor. Even the sky wept when the Fëanorians murdered the fair Dior and his sons.” When Elladan hardly reacted the chained elf chuckled.“You do not care? Tell me son of Elrond halfelven, is your heart made of mithril?” Now it was Elladan’s turn to chuckle. “Why should my heart be made of mithril? Because I do not weep over the massacre at Doriath?” The other elf smirked, “you are a gifted killer little elf, but have you ever killed one of your own kin?” He paused and then smiled shaking his head slightly amused. “I can see it in your eyes that you have not.” Elladan had had enough of the other elf’s taunting and stood up in a quick fluid move, placing a dagger at the elfs throat. “It seems you know everything, don’t you? Do you also know what I will do now?” he smiled a vicious smile. But the other elf didn’t seem to be scared by Elladan’s little performance. He just looked up at Elladan and whispered, “tell me your name, elf.” Taken completely aback by this odd request, Elladan lowered the dagger and frowned, “Elladan,” he said. Eying the other elf he raised the dagger once more, running it over the chained elfs collar bone, “Pray tell prisoner, what might your name be? In contrast to what you might think of me, I do not have a heart of mithril, I like to get acquainted with the ones I am about to kill.” The half elf smiled dangerously. “Annata,” the elf said, keeping his gaze steady on the elf in front of him. “Very well Annatar, from where do you hail?” Annatar smiled and shook his head ,“it doesn’t matter.” Elladan seemed to buy that explanation, and shifted the knife to the other hand. “...Then Annatar from nowhere in particular, who chained you here?” When the elf didn’t answer, Elladan grew impatient. “Since you seem to know all of my ancestors whereabouts, I am sure you also know who chained you, surely you are not that daft as to not have seen their faces.” Annatar smiled ruefully, “I saw them alright,” he whispered. “But you wont tell me who did this misdeed,” Elladan said, raising a brow and smiled slyly “or was it you who was the miscreant?” “Mayhap,” Annatar stated. “Maybe you are not the only killer in this room, little elf, Elladan” “I find it hard to believe since you are the one imprisoned, and I am not,” sheathing his dagger he laughed softly. “If I were to walk out this door, and never return there would be nothing to stop me, now would there.” “No,” Annatar said with a sigh. Elladan laughed softly, as he sat down on the floor, resting against the wall, sighing he closed his eyes. “..If” Annatar said, and Elladan opened his eyes, looking at the dangling elf. “If you get me down from here, everything you wish for will be yours, this I promise” “Is that so?” Elladan said slightly amused. Looking upon the starved deadly pale elf hanging from the wall. “Yes” Annatar said. Frowning as Elladan once more closed his eyes and rested his hands in his lap. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Elladan shook his head with a smirk “can’t really blame me, can you?” he raised an exquisite eyebrow in mirth, but didn’t open his eyes. Annatar made an annoyed hiss. For aeons he had hoped for salvation, sensing the sword of the Fëanorian, he had thought the hour was finally here, but this brat! He had never counted on this. If only he could get free, he would show this elf! He would rise in his full glory, and then he would make this insolent little mad elf beg for his life. Annatar smiled to himself, ah yes! He would like to wipe this smirk from Elladan’s lips. Elladan opened his eyes slowly after only 30 minutes of disturbed sleep. His stomach rumbled, he stood slowly and stretched lazily. He watched the other elf, but he seemed to sleep, his face obscured by long blond hair. Elladan smiled to himself, as he hurried out of the dungeon. Feed! If he was hungry now, imagine how this other elf felt. He went to his saddlebag and retrieved some dried meat; he did not feel like going outside as he could hear the rain still falling heavy on the roof of the ruin. How on earth could he get this elf out of his shackles? He did not have the faintest idea. He did not care for Annatar’s promises, but he was trained better than to listen to this rubbish, everyone promised something if their only prospects were to perish or be left behind to an uncertain fate. Elladan shook his head, the name ‘Fingon’ kept echoing in his mind, and he couldn’t make out why. He hated it when these voices gave him unclear messages. If they would only tell him something he could use, instead of some old stupid elf’s name. Half way down the corridor to the dungeon, Elladan came to a grinding halt! “Fingon” he whispered. “Yes, of course!” now he knew! He remembered his father had read this particular story to him and his siblings once. Laughing softly at his own stupidity, he went into the cell where Annatar still hung. Annatar lifted his head as he heard Elladan mumble in the corridor, before coming into the cell. The son of Elrond came to him and just stood there for a long minute, it was almost eerie, he felt most like an insect that was being observed through those stone hard grey eyes. “Elladan?” he said softly. And Elladan seemed to shake out of his thoughts, and smiled “I thought you might be hungry,” he said holding up some dried meat. Annatar could have laughed out loud; this poor elf really had absolutely no idea who he was, he who had commanded armies of balrogs, werewolves and dragons, he who had been incarcerated here for decades. Since he had been doomed by the Valar, they had not killed him, they dared not. They had sentenced him to obscurity! Left him here in one of his own minion’s ruins, tied him down with magic and his own unbreakable steel. It seemed almost ironic that the first elf to have stumbled across him was carrying the sword of the Fëanorian; this particular Fëanorian had hung from above his gates, slowly withering. And now… Now this indolent elf was offering him dried meat! “Indeed,” Annatar just said. Elladan blinked as he gently stuffed a piece of this dried meat into Annatar’s mouth. Watching the elf chew, a smile crept across his features; oh, he had a plan now! “I know how to get you free.” Annatar’s eyes widened in sheer surprise, he, this obnoxious little elfling had found a way to break the chains of the Valar? It was too good to believe, but seeing the self assured smirk on the half-elf’s face, told Annatar that there might be something to it, at least Elladan himself thought he had the solution. “Wait here” Elladan said, chuckling at his own morbid joke, turning and leaving, not seeing Annatar’s eyes shooting daggers at him as he left. He went back up, and this time he ventured outside in the still raging thunderstorm. This was a mouldy area, so there had to be mushrooms; the smell here was ancient and sharp, like a marsh. Elladan started searching for the right kind of mushroom, and after a very long search he finally found it. The one he had been searching for, it was very tiny and looked extremely fragile, but Elladan knew its effect. Victorious, he grinned as he put all he found in his little bag attached to his belt. Oh yes, he knew how to get Annatar out of his imprisonment. Once inside the house he started to search for wood, anything that would serve as fuel for a fire, and preferably something that was not too wet. He remembered the room with the round table. And went there, there were no stools, but there was part of what appeared to have been a bookshelf, that had to do. Elladan gave the old wood construction a hard kick and it fell apart. He gathered the wood and went back to the dungeon. Not even giving Annatar a glance as he walked in and dropped the firewood unceremoniously on the floor. Squatting down Elladan started to build a fire. Annatar watched silently, thinking to himself that this was a nice fire, no doubt about it, but how would that exactly get him free of his chains? He stretched his neck trying to see what it was Elladan was doing, but the other elf sat with his back to him, and obscured any view Annatar might have had. With a little surprise Annatar noted that Elladan was humming, and he found it to be strangely eerie. After some time, Elladan turned around and smiled at Annatar “I take it the dried meat agreed with you,” he said softly. Annatar nodded. “Annatar” Elladan said smiling a smile that could be interpreted as seductive, but Annatar chose to ignore the chill this gave him up and down his spine. “You want to be free, am I right?” Elladan crooked his head and rested his hands on his hips, expecting an answer. “Aye,” Annatar said. “Ah.. Even if it comes with a price?” Elladan stated. “Even if it comes with a price,” Annatar answered. Not quite understanding what it was that made this damn half-elf think he had something to bargain with, as soon as he was free once more, Annatar swore to himself he would make sure this, this.. Little obnoxious princeling would be beheaded, or gutted, or both.. A devilish smile crept across Annatar’s pale lips. It would actually be a pleasure. “And I get to name my price,” Elladan eyed Annatar, opening his palm slowly presenting the mushrooms he picked earlier that night. “These, these are your key. Do you want it?” Annatar looked at the mushrooms in disbelief, his key? How could this fungus be his way out of the chains? He decided that it was worth a try; the worst that could happen was that the insolent elf failed to get him free. “Name your price,” he whispered, looking from the mushrooms to Elladan’s stormy grey eyes. “When you are free, I shall name my price, Annatar.” “It seems only fair, Elladan son of Elrond halfelven,” Annatar said with a smirk, he couldn’t believe his luck, if he succeeded, he would be slain, but of course this daft elf did not know who he was. Did not know the reason for his imprisonment. Did not know what powers he wielded. Annatar was interrupted in his line of thoughts as Elladan said, “open up,” and he did, doing as Elladan told him, chewing the mushrooms, trying not to gag from the foul taste. After a little while he felt a strange tingle in his body, and he looked up at Elladan who still stood in front of him. “Y..You drugged me?” he slurred, blinking rapidly trying to focus. He heard Elladan laugh as if from a great distance, his mind feebly trying to find an explanation for this. How could this happen? Elladan watched in amusement, the chained elf rolling the white of his eyes, deciding that he must be sedated now; he went over and pulled Annatar’s head up by his hair, yes, sure enough. This elf was long gone. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: When Annatar woke, he blinked, confused, the first thought that struck him was that he was really thirsty, but then he started to notice that he was looking at the ceiling, the ceiling? This had to mean he was laying down! This was his chance! He was free! He moved to sit, but nothing happened, other than a sharp pain travelled up his shoulder blades. A cry of agony escaped Annatar’s lips. This attracted Elladan, who had been at the fire preparing a rabbit he had been out hunting. He turned and smiled dotingly at Annatar, and Annatar looked at Elladan with fright in his eyes, this was the first time in all of his eternity he remembered being frightened. “W..What did you d..do?” he croaked. Not sure he wanted to hear the answer. Elladan leaned down over Annatar and kissed his cheek “I kept my promise, you are free, my love” he whispered, “and at the same time I collected my price.” Annatar looked directly up into Elladan’s eyes, feeling his corner of his mouth twitch, not daring to ask, but he had to “what w..was your pri..price then” “You” he whispered kissing the corner of Annatar’s mouth. “Me?” Annatar whispered back, not trusting his ears. Elladan nodded slowly “I spent some time thinking about what I could possibly want from you, given my free choice of reward. And I realised all I ever wanted was someone to love me, not to leave me, but to stay at my side always. And you, my love,” Elladan smiled lovingly “you are not running anywhere.” Annatar paled, raising his neck to look down his body, seeing his arms and legs gone, the stumps neatly bandaged. It felt odd, it felt like they were still there, like his mind refused to register that they were gone. This.. This.. He had been bested; beat at his own game by a mere half-elf. Melkor let out a blood curdling scream. But Elladan he just busied himself with the rabbit once more, humming to himself. The end.