Title: Unwilling Consort
Author: Red Autumn (red_autumn21@yahoo.com)
Pairings: Legolas/Elrohir/Elladan, Legolas/Glorfindel
Rating: NC17, Rape (lots of it!) Dark stuff.
Summary: Rivendell and Mirkwood are enemies. One
innocent victim was made to suffer for a feud that
happened millenias ago.
Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine and it's
all fictitious.  I just like to fantasize them.
Warning: Please heed the ratings.  Brace your
hearts.
Authors Note:  Comments welcome.  Cheers!

PART 4

“Hhhmmmmmmhhhhh…………,” sighed Legolas out loud.

He was extremely bored.  He’d been in Imladris for
almost two weeks now.

A soft sheen silk cover was the only thing he had to
hide his naked body.  The twins had found it rather
tedious to rip the clothes off him whenever they
needed him.  Therefore he was forbidden to wear
anything.

His eyes roved around the room and ceiling aimlessly. 
None of the intricate details and tangly vines on the
walls and columns intrigues him anymore.  He’d also
seen a thousand times the beautiful workmanship of
elven lore embellished on the headboard of the bed he
was lying on.

Finally his eyes settled on the scenery beyond the
stone balustrades of the balcony.  It was a
magnificent view indeed and the sunlight seemed to
invite him to come out and play.  He closed his eyes
and tried to absorb every sound that invaded his
sensitive ears.

The sound of chains rattling as he shifted his legs
brought him back to reality.  It reminded him of why
he couldn’t get to the balcony.  While his masters
were away on duties, he was kept locked in the
chamber.  As a double precaution, his right ankle was
shackled to the bed.  A thick wad of leather was
wrapped around his ankle before a silver manacle was
clamped around it.  He had the freedom of two feet
length of chain to move about.

Each waking moment and each coming darkness at night
filled him with dread and uncertainty.  Every time he
closed his eyes, nightmare infested his mind.  Often
Legolas either stared blankly in front of him,
daydreaming of past memories or wallowing in
self-pity.  He’d be in this condition until he was too
tired and fell into an uneasy sleep.  It was beginning
to take its toll on his mental and physical health.

His only distraction was a servant who dutifully comes
in every noon and nighttime to deliver food and drink.
 The elf would place the tray on the bed and left
without looking at him or saying a word.  Legolas had
tried to talk to him several times but he never
responded.

Today, as usual, the door to the chamber opened.  As
the prince’s back was facing the door, he did not see
who came in.  In fact he only expected the servant
with his tray, so he did not bother to turn.

Legolas didn’t feel hungry at all and decided to tell
the servant to take the tray away instead.  He turned
his body around and was surprised to meet an elf with
golden hair.  This new elf did not dressed like a
servant and he wore a warrior braid on his head.  The
prince narrowed his eyes, feeling slightly uneasy.

The tall, elegant elf regarded him closely in return. 
It made Legolas felt his hair stood on ends.

Silently, he bent closer and Legolas tried to move
away but the chains held him.  A look of fear crossed
his face.  His heart pounded hard in his chest.

Moments later, he produced a key and slowly approached
Legolas' right leg.  His silver eyes were still
trained on the prince as he unlocked the manacle.  He
did it slowly and gently, not intending to spook the
frightened elf.

Reaching for a robe hung on a chair that was out of
reach of the young elf, he threw it to him.  Legolas
took it and quickly put it on.

Then the handsome elf reached out to take the young
prince’s wrist.  Legolas yelped and squirmed away but
was caught anyway.  He tried to pull his hand again,
only to find the grip becoming tighter and painful.

The prince was led out of the chamber.  He didn’t know
where he was going but was relieved anyway because now
he had a chance to get out of the suffocating room. 
The prince didn’t try to run away for he knew it was a
foolish thing to do.  He would definitely be caught
within seconds and loose the chance to be outside
forever.

Many elves stared as Glorfindel walked past them,
holding the Sindarin elf’s wrist.  Legolas stumbled a
few times trying to keep up with the long strides.  He
saw elves staring at them either awe struck or with
hatred.  There were also quite a few who looked at him
with lust in their eyes.  It made the prince blush
slightly, knowing what they were thinking of.

Glorfindel guided the way to Imladris’s famous garden.
 It was a huge maze of trees, lakes and flowerbeds. 
White picket fences and trellis swarmed with green
vines lined the path they were walking on.  The path
itself was a wonder to look at for it was imbedded
with polished, colourful marbles bordered with little
round black pebbles.  The backdrops were surrounded by
snow capped mountains and huge roaring waterfalls.

Eventually, he stopped underneath a huge willow tree
where it’s branches bend towards the lake.

Still gripping his wrist, he allowed Legolas to take
in the beauty surrounding them.  He knew the young elf
must have been dying to be out in the open again,
among trees and green grass on his feet.  He heard the
prince let out a sigh as his eyes roamed ahead of him.

Stealing glances at the small elf beside him,
Glorfindel couldn’t help but notice for the first time
that the colour of the robe accentuated his skin.  The
silky sky blue shade seemed to blend in with his azure
eyes.  Since the robe was too big for the young elf,
part of the collar fell off his shoulder, adding a
twist of sensuality to it.

The elder couldn’t stop his heightened libido anymore.
 Just looking at him and the exposed shoulder made him
hard.  He reached out and touched the soft cheeks. 
Legolas cringed at his touch.  He began trembling
involuntarily, his breath coming in short, shallow
pants.

Glorfindel smiled and became bolder.  He pushed the
prince down and crushed his lips onto Legolas',
bruising the soft lips.  He also rubbed his hard
member pointedly on the prince’s stomach.

Legolas was alarmed and tried to push him away.  A
whimper of fear escaped his throat.

Circling tightly his arms around the slender frame, he
hoisted the prince up and dragged him into a deeper
part of the garden.  Legolas struggled violently and
managed to escape from his clutches.  Immediately he
bolted away.

As he ran, he felt hot tears streaming down his face
but he did not hear anyone pursuing him from behind. 
He risked looking back and saw no one.

Instead, he crashed into another bigger body that
grasped him tight instantaneously.

Legolas looked up, afraid that the golden elf had
caught up with him but instead was somewhat relieved
to see Elladan instead.  His master would save him
from this bold stranger.

“I was looking for you and you just ran into my arms,”
said Elladan throatily.

Legolas tensed upon hearing his tone.

Elladan then proceeded to push the prince towards
where he had just run from.  Legolas reluctantly let
himself be guided there.

To his surprise, Glorfindel was waiting idly under an
oak tree.  He smiled again when he saw Elladan and his
consort coming towards him.  Legolas gulped, his eyes
wide with horror when he realised what Elladan had in
mind for him.

His master pushed him against the tree harshly, not
caring if he hurt the younger elf.  Then he raised his
right hand up above his head and did the most terrible
thing.  He took out a small shinning dagger,
beautifully encrusted with precious gems and stabbed
the sharp blade into the pale palm, securing it
against the tree.

Legolas yell out in agonizing pain and he wanted to
bring down his right hand but could not move it for
the dagger had wedged itself deeply into the tree.

“Now you can have all the fun you want, Glorfindel,”
voiced Elladan suggestively.  He gave a predatory
smile to his friend, a glint in his eye.

The golden-haired warrior was slightly taken aback by
the violence showed towards his consort but he did not
say anything.  The object of his desire was squirming
in front of him and vulnerable.  Glorfindel did not
waste any time.

Tearing the robes away, he groped the prince roughly
and gently alternately.  He ran his tongue over the
shoulders and chest before nipping his ears, sending
the prince gasping for air in unwanted pleasure.  He
devoured the hot mouth, sucking as if life depended on
it.

Traveling his hands all over the sweaty body, he felt
fire burning between his legs.  His mind was on one
thing only and so occupied by it that he did not hear
the pitiful cries and begging for him to stop. 
Instead he quickly stripped his clothes.

Hot.  So very hot and slippery when Glorfindel rubbed
his body against the tormented elf.  Unable to contain
himself anymore, he pulled one leg up and thrust
forcefully.

Legolas was in so much pain from the palm of his hand
and also below his waist but he could not move.  He
screamed every time Glorfindel pumped into him and at
the same time, his palm was cut wider.  Elladan
watched the blood trickling down his arm and felt his
manhood straining to seek warmth.

Tight.  Ever so tightly the inflamed hole gripped on
to his member.  Soon he slid in and out easily for the
prince was bleeding.

With one hand still holding the leg around him and the
other gripping the buttocks, he slammed harder and
faster as he was about to climax.

After Glorfindel was done with the injured prince, he
stood aside.  He was sweating profusely and panting
hard.  He noticed that the prince tried to stand but
his weak knees kept giving away.  However, Legolas
wasn’t able to move as the blade in his palm
threatened to cut his palm in half if he slid down.

Then Elladan took over.  He was even more brutal than
Glorfindel.  The forest was filled only with sounds of
Elladan groaning and the younger elf crying and
screaming for dear life.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Glorfindel felt pity for the battered and heavily
injured elf.  Elladan had treated him cruelly and had
seemed to enjoy the pain and fear he inflicts on the
younger elf.

Despite the disapproval shown in Elladan’s face, he
did not stop the golden elder from carrying the
unconscious elf to the healing room.

Personally Glorfindel hated the Sindarin elves enough
to kill them without hesitation during battles but the
child in his arms was innocent from such judgments.

He felt slightly guilty for causing so much pain to
Legolas and it was not right to tarnish one so young
and so beautiful.  The elder had been so pent up with
so much desire and lust that he lost control when
Legolas was laid vulnerable to him.

After he laid the motionless body on the bed, he
stopped a servant to call for Elrond.  Secretly he was
worried that the young one would go to the Hall of
Mandos too soon.

Elves were delicate creatures.  They may be strong
physically but they are also very sensitive in matters
of the heart and mind.  Especially when one was taken
against his/her will.

Lord Elrond entered the healing room looking worried. 
He thought his good friend was injured but when he saw
Glorfindel standing beside the bed, looking down at
the bloodied heap, he was relieved.

He walked over and was shocked to see the prince
severely injured.  Blood flowed continuously from the
right palm where there was a deep gash.  It had also
stained the naked chest where the Lord of Rivendell
noticed was raising and dropping raggedly.  The left
wrist was bend at a strange angle.  Bruises covered
his torso and limbs, and more blood pooled on the
lower part of his body.  His face was swollen and he
had trouble breathing.

* ~ * ~ *

The half-elven lord let out a long loud sigh.  Tiredly
he sat on one of the chairs in the healing room.  It
had taken him two hours to attend to all the injuries
and preparing the herbs, with some help from
Glorfindel.  The warrior eyed him worriedly.

“Will he survive?” asked Glorfindel quietly.

Elrond shook his head.  The golden elf thought he felt
his heart skip a beat.  The pale elf on the bed didn’t
look well in his eyes.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.  How well he will heal
depends on his emotional state.”  As he spoke, his
eyes were focused blankly on the frail prince.

This statement made Glorfindel cocked an eyebrow at
him.  Did he just hear the Lord of Rivendell, the
mighty warrior who led an army against the Dark Lord,
worried about the well-being of a Sindarin elf,
especially one so very closely related to his present
enemy?

As if reading his mind, “I’m also a healer, my friend.
 I have obligations concerning the well being of any
elf or creature.  And I am not one who would mistreat
a prisoner for my own gain in this feud,”

For a minute, Glorfindel thought that his lord was
taken by the innocent elf’s beauty.  It was easy for
anyone to like and drool over the prince.  Wherever he
went, eyes stared either awe struck or lustful.

Elrond’s eyes did not waver from the sleeping form.

Suddenly the young prince trashed in his sleep,
fighting a fathom both elders knew.  Incoherent
murmurs escaped his dried lips.  The eyes were closed,
as it should be during a healing sleep.

Elrond stood and went to sit next to Legolas. 
Brushing away the golden strands from his face, he
whispered words of endearments.  Legolas seemed to
calm down and fall asleep again.

A twinge of pain was felt in Glorfindel’s heart.  His
actions were unforgivable.  Scenes played vividly in
his mind.

He remembered how he touched and groped the trembling
body, how he felt fire rushing to his private parts
when he kissed the frightened prince, how much his
body shook with ecstasy when he pumped into the sweaty
body, the haunted look of defeat filled his azure eyes
where he stared into them and the screams of agony
filled the woods.

He also remembered how Elladan had worked on the
feisty elf.  After the young lord pulled the blade out
of Legolas’ palm, the wretched elf sank to the floor
and slumped face first on to the ground.

When Elladan tried to grope him, as if with renewed
energy from within, Legolas fought back wildly.  It
angered his master greatly.  He sat on top of the
young prince’s chest and pinned both hands beside his
body with his folded legs.

Then he started to slap Legolas harshly, snapping the
head left and right until he was completely dazed. 
Then he punched the rigs, cracking a few, and the
stomach until Legolas wheezed from the damages.

The pain from the blows weakened him considerably.  As
if that was not enough, he broke the left wrist when
he tried to twist it away as it tried to push him
away.  Then Elladan cruelly raped the helpless elf. 
The more Legolas screamed, the more frenzy Elladan
became.

Glorfindel was well aware that he should stop the
abuse and torture but he was too mesmerized by the
scene that played in front of him.  He drank every
detail that seemed to play in a slow motion.  The
pain, the cry for mercy, the screams, and the sounds
of cracked bones all flooded his senses.  It was
grotesquely fascinating.

When Elladan finally slumped on top of the motionless
body did Glorfindel snapped out of his reverie.

The golden elder could not bring himself to tell his
friend that he had a share in inflicting injuries to
the prince.  He was too ashamed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *



PART 5

Legolas blinked his eyes.  He was in a garden, a
wonderful garden but how did he get here so fast? 
Then he felt pain beginning to invade his body.  It
was pulsing and getting intense like the stars – white
and hot.

The throb on both his hands were especially
unbearable.  He lifted to look at them only to find to
his anger and despair, thick bandages on both hands. 
There were traces of blood that had seemed to soak
through the layers of cloth on his right hand.

And he was still naked.  Don’t these people ever
thought of giving him any clothes to wear?

Suddenly scenes flooded his mind as if a dam had
broken, spilling all its contents in wild torrents.  A
beautiful sharp dagger that had reflected the sunlight
in brilliance; bleeding hands – whose hand he couldn’t
remember; Elladan on top of him, raining punches; he
was trying hard to breathe; Glorfindel’s eyes; his
master raping him; the excruciating pain; the sound of
crying – who was crying?

The terrible memories made Legolas cried aloud.  He
didn’t care if anyone heard him.  His tears just
wouldn’t stop, just like the pulsing pain wracking his
body right now.

“Ada….ada, please help me!” he sobbed.  He cried till
he fell asleep.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

A few hours later, he was awakening by sounds of
people talking.  It was not loud but his elven
hearings were sharp enough to hear the whispers though
not the words.

Legolas shifted his eyes slightly and saw Lord Elrond
attending to another person he didn’t recognise. 
Observing even further, he was surprised that the
other stranger sitting on the other bed was a man.  He
had never seen a man before but he could recognise one
when he sees one.  

The man had dark, wavy hair that fell to his
shoulders.  There were also fuzzy hairs on his rugged
face.  As he did not wear any tunic, Legolas noticed
more hairs on his chest.  His skin was tan unlike
elves and his muscles were big and solid.  This man
could be considered handsome in an exotic way.

“Who is that?” Aragorn whispered.  He thought that the
young elf looked very beautiful, despite the injuries
and the fact that the elf was a male.  Strange that he
could think of this elf in this manner.

“Your brothers’ consort,” answered Elrond as he
applied some paste of crushed herbs on to the open
wound.  Aragorn winced a little from the stinging
pain.

He had injured himself, fighting off a sudden attack
of the wargs while on his way to Rivendell.  The rest
of the escorts consisting of Faramir - his captain and
four other soldiers have also taken some light
injuries.

“Consort?  Since when?  I’ve never seen him in
Rivendell before.”

His eyes traveled the length of the elf’s chest,
noting how pale and smooth the skin was.  The bandage
around his ribs meant that he had broken something
there.

“Prince Legolas Greenleaf, youngest son of King
Thranduil,” whispered Elrond, barely able to suppress
a sigh.

Aragorn’s eyes widened, shocked.  He looked at his
foster father searchingly.

“The twins kidnapped him from Mirkwood two weeks ago,”
Elrond continued before Aragorn could open his mouth. 
“I didn’t agree to it at first because he still
haven’t reached his majority yet.  He was one month
shy from it.”

Aragorn knew the twins could be rash sometimes,
especially Elladan.  How could his foster father agree
to this?

“How did he get injured so severely?”  His curiosity
mounting.

“Elladan,” answered Elrond simply.

Aragon was truly shocked.  He couldn’t believe that
his half-brother could be so cruel, especially towards
a child.

After Lord Elrond finished bandaging his foster son’s
arm, he turned around to check on the young prince. 
Legolas pretended to sleep.  He didn’t want to talk to
anyone right now.

Minutes later, they left and the room was quiet again.

Straining his ears to make sure they have left,
Legolas finally let go of his breath that he had been
holding.  He turned his head towards the balcony and
wished he could bathe in the sunlight that flooded
through the columns.

Taking his chance that no one would catch him, slowly
and carefully he tried to sit up.  His ribs ached a
lot when he used his body muscles instead of putting
strains on his hands to push himself up.

“DON’T… even try it,” said a melodious voice though a
bit harshly.

Legolas was surprised and turned to the voice.  He
cursed himself for letting his guard down.  

Lord Elrond was standing by the frame of the opened
door.

With a few strides, he was standing beside the bed,
his eyes boring down on the young prince.  It made
Legolas very uncomfortable and he squirm slightly,
eyes cast down.  The stern scrutinizing made Legolas
trembled a little.

The fidgeting elf turned slightly pink as he
remembered that the elven lord towering above him, the
elf his father had spoken so badly of, had attended to
his injuries, including places he was even too
embarrassed to think about.

The silence between them was deafening.

Moments later, another elf entered.  It was a servant
carrying a tray of food and drink.  After setting it
down, he bowed and left.

Before Legolas could say or do anything, Elrond helped
the injured elf to sit up despite he could feel
clearly the elf flinched at his touch.  The young
prince could not trust anyone right now.  The elven
lord chose not to notice it.

While attending to Aragorn he knew the prince had
woken up and told his foster son to order some food to
the healing room as they exited.

He placed the tray on the bed and then sat next to
Legolas.  The frightened prince squirm again but he
knew he was at the elder’s mercy.

Legolas couldn’t protest.  Both his hands were useless
right now and Lord Elrond would have to feed him.

“You must eat.  You’ve been on a healing sleep for 3
days straight.  You need food to build energy,” coaxed
Elrond with a friendly tone.

The raven-haired lord felt pity and a little guilty
for the way his sons had treated this innocent elf. 
He just didn’t know why he always acted so sternly
towards him.  Later he would have to talk to the twins
before things get out of hand.

Legolas ate silently and obediently whatever the elven
lord fed him.



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

PART 6

Someone touching his cheek jerked Legolas awake.  It
was one of the twins.  Legolas recoiled from the touch
as fear filled his eyes.  It could be Elladan as it
was difficult to tell them apart.  But it did not
matter which one as both of them made him suffer a
lot.  His breathing came in short gasping sounds,
almost hyperventilating.

The prince had been confined to the healing room for a
few more days to heal properly.  Elrohir felt restless
without his consort to warm his bed.  So he came to
look for the young elf, against his father’s warning.

The younger twin smiled.  Climbing on to the bed like
a hungry predator, eyes constantly locked with his
consort.  Elrohir straddled the prince, careful not to
put his full weight on the injured part but enough to
pin him down.  He gripped both forearm so that he
could not fight back.

Bending down, he kissed the quivering lips.  A whimper
escaped from the elf below but Elrohir did not stop. 
He slid his tongue deep inside, relishing the sweet
taste of the lips and sucking all the saliva,
savouring it like wine.

They hadn’t realised that someone had entered the room
until a cough interrupted them.  It was the man whom
Legolas had seen before.

“Sorry to disturb the two of you but father told me to
come and check on our young friend here,” he said with
a smile.

Of course, he was lying.  While passing by (he didn’t
know why he was passing by this particular corridor a
lot), he heard the sound of whimper and felt that he
needed to protect the frightened elf.

At the back of his mind, he wondered why he felt that
way.  Legolas was clearly his brothers’ consort and
they never steal from one another.

“Father is also looking for you, Elrohir.  He’s in the
study now,”

His half-brother’s eyes narrowed slightly as if he
knew something was amiss but he didn’t object.  He
bent down and gave his consort a deep kiss before
leaving, feeling a bit annoyed.  The man felt his
heart race and he was uneasy.  What’s wrong with him? 
Elrohir has every right to kiss his consort.

Ever since he had left Rivendell years ago to claim
his birthright in Gondor, the brotherly relationship
had distant slightly.  As he was too busy to visit
often over the years, it had drifted even further
apart.  Now it had strained even more when he refused
to aid in the family feud against King Thranduil. 
Lord Elrond did not blame him, for he would have
preferred it that way as this matter was clearly
between the two of them.

The dark handsome man pulled a chair to sit beside the
bed.  Legolas did not move but he eyed him warily.

“How are you feeling?” asked the man with a smile. 
His voice was deep and penetrating, so very different
from the elves whose voice sounded light and
mellifluously.

Legolas liked the smile but he couldn’t trust the man.
 He has heard about the cruelty of man towards elves
from his elder brother and other warriors who’d been
to battles.

“My name is Aragorn,” continued the man without
waiting for an answer.  “Lord Elrond is my foster
father,”

Legolas was shock to hear this, a man in league with
the evil elves of Rivendell.

“Do not worry.  I will not harm you,” Aragorn tried to
convince the young elf as he could clearly see the
uneasiness shown in his face and body.

Whatever Aragorn had said, Legolas did not believe
him.  Brothers are always in league with each other.

“You wish me to warm your bed too, just as I have done
for your brothers?  I don’t need your lies,” said
Legolas icily.

Aragorn was taken aback by his words.

“I know you don’t trust anyone right now but please, I
don’t mean to offend you in any way.  I’m only telling
the truth,” explained Aragorn patiently.

It was Legolas' turn to be surprised by his words. 
Since arriving into Rivendell, no one had tried to be
friendly to him mainly due to the fact that he was a
Sindarin elf.

“I’m sorry for being rude, “said Legolas finally.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Prince Legolas.  I
understand your apprehensiveness,” said Aragorn with a
smile.  

Good.  The prince was polite and seemed to let down
his guard slightly.  Aragorn liked the young elf
already.  He did not display his huffiness despite his
status.  He’d heard a lot about his father and
imagined that all his children would be like him.

“Call me Legolas, Lord Aragorn,” said the prince with
a weak smile.  It was the first time he had smiled
since staying in Imladris.

“You can call me just Aragorn as everyone else,”

They both looked at each other in silence for a while.
 Each in his own mind.

“Tell me, what is Mirkwood like?” asked Aragorn
breaking the awkwardness.

Aragorn was no stranger to Mirkwood as he had entered
its forest several times when he was a ranger.  The
elves of Mirkwood were proud creatures but at least
they did not bother him when he’d met their border
patrol guards.

However he was interested to know more about the
prince and by drawing him to talk about the forest
where he grew up, he would eventually open up about
himself.  It was a way to make him feel comfortable
with his presence.

Legolas was happy to talk about Mirkwood and the time
spent there.  He rambled on and on about things he was
good at, especially archery.  At one point he looked
away, trying to hide a single tear that had escaped
from his eye.

“What’s wrong?” asked Aragorn concern.

“The day of my majority is approaching soon.  I shall
never be a warrior,” his voice filled with sadness.

Aragorn didn’t know what to say.  Secretly, it pained
him to see the elf so crestfallen.  He knew what it
felt like when something you wanted so badly but could
not be attained.
The whole afternoon was spent talking about each
other’s life.  They seemed to enjoy each other’s
company a lot that an occasional laughter from the
young elf seized Aragorn’s heart.  The tinkling sound
he made sent raging fire through his body and mind.

Soon, Aragorn found himself captivated by the bright
azure eyes.  It was rare to see such wonder when he
knew the young elf was suffering from grief.  He tried
to steal glances at the perfect features of his face,
the pink, slightly pouted lips and the shine on his
golden hair.  He was etching every detail into his
mind.

What he failed to mention was that he was King of
Gondor.  He didn’t mind though as he was busy noticing
the magnificent elf in front of him.

At night when Aragorn laid down on his bed to sleep,
he found it was difficult.  His mind was constantly
filled with images of Legolas.  But why?  It was so
confusing.  Could it be possible that he has feelings
for a male elf?

########## 

PART 7 

The unwilling consort had obediently rested in bed for the past 2 days.  He was wistfully day dreaming of feeling sun on his skin and hair again.  He also wished he could climb trees and let his long hair whip freely in the wind.  He tried very hard to fill his mind with such thoughts.  It had not been easy at first especially after what had happened a few days ago. 

No one came to visit him except Aragorn who happily took over the job of bringing food to the elf and keeping him company as much as he could.  Aragorn had done it because he wanted to spend as much time as possible with his new friend and also at the same time, he could keep an eye on him in case the twins decided to break his quarantine. 

He had only seen Lord Elrond once for the past two days.  He’d come only to check on his injuries and re-bandage them with new ones.  Luckily it was done briefly as Legolas felt very uncomfortable with the elven lord’s gazes and touches. 

Yesterday, Aragorn had provided him with a pair of breeches to wear.  It had delighted Legolas very much.  He also gave him a thin robe to put on.  Aragorn had purposely chosen a cobalt blue robe to enhance his blue azure eyes. 

Legolas had been patiently waiting for his injuries to heal as much as possible for his restless mind had began forming a plan to escape from his prison.  He was sure that his father had been trying to save him but the fact that he had yet to see any attempts made meant that it was not easy to penetrate into Rivendell’s forces. 

He had tried several times to roll his left wrist to test its flexibleness, and had found it almost healed.  Only the deep gash wound on his palm needed a longer time to seal up properly.  That meant he could not really defend himself even with weapons in hand for the hands had not the strength to strike with effectiveness. 

The Prince’s only chance of escape was by using the cover of the night.  He knew that tonight there would be a waning moon in the sky.  There’s enough darkness for camouflage and enough light to see his way around.  This was important, as he had no idea where he must run to to get away. 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * 

Lord Elrond had come to check on the wounds.  Aragorn hovered beside him. 

Satisfied with the progress, Elrond tucked the Prince in and blew out all the candles in the room except for one. 

They left the healing room minutes later, taking the one-lighted candle with them.  The room was immediately plunged into darkness when the door was closed behind them. 

However, slowly the natural lights from outside lit the room dimly, casting eerie shadows on some corners. 

Legolas waited for about half an hour to be sure.  His heart was beating fast.  He strained his ears to listen to any movements or sounds outside the room. 

It was quiet. 

Silent and graceful like a cat, he slipped out of bed and crept to the balcony with all stealth as he was taught in Mirkwood.  The fabric of the robe he was wearing rustled softly.  Luckily for him, the dark colour will provide good blending into the night. 

With the temporary handicap, he could not climb down the balcony.  He would have to jump off and hope that he land without much injury. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t get very far. 

He looked over the balustrades to assess the height.  Then he placed his hands experimentally on the baluster and then one foot on it. 

As he was about to climb over it, he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders and then was roughly pulled back.  Before he could do anything, he was pushed callously against the wall.  The impact knocked the air out of his lungs and hurting his ribs that was healing.  The pain caused him to bend over, dazed. 

In the darkness, he could not see who his attacker was.  The same pair of strong hands circled his waist and hoisted him back into the healing room. 

May be one of the guards had seen him trying to slip away, he thought. 

Legolas was unceremoniously dumped onto the bed.  Before he could move or get up, his attacker pushed him down, pinning him with a knee. 

“Going somewhere, my love?” purred a husky voice. 

The voice caused the young elf to stiffen. 

Not him, Legolas thought in anguish. 

He had been unlucky to try to escape that particular night.  Elladan had wanted to seek his company and had climbed on to the balcony, as it was the only way in.  He was surprised to see someone sneaking out of the healing room and then realised it was the Prince. 

The young elf heard cloth being ripped and then pulled away.  Seconds later, a heavy weight sat on his back. 

“Please, no,” whispered Legolas hoarsely, weeping. 

“Ssshhhhh…Relax and don’t fight back.  I promise, I will not hurt you,” replied the voice soothingly. 

Defeated and without any choice, Legolas slumped and did not move, letting Elladan has his way. 

Smooth, cool fingers traveled all over his back and down to his anal cleft.  Legolas tensed and bit back the urge to cry out.  Soft kisses were planted on his sensitive shoulders and the back of his head while a hand teased his balls. 

The pale body trembled from sobbing and fear. 

When Elladan pierced him in a single movement, Legolas tried not to scream.  Instead he buried his face into the soft pillow, his left hand clenching on to sheets so tightly that his knuckles turned white. 

The tortured elf didn’t know how long Elladan had been on top of him but it had seemed forever.  When he finally left, Legolas was so exhausted that he fell asleep soon after. 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * 

In the morning, things did not get much better as Aragorn was the first person to discover Legolas lying naked, face down with traces of blood between his thighs.  Quickly, he called for a servant who happened to stand not far away from the healing room.  He told her to fetch Lord Elrond immediately. 

Returning back into the healing room, he filled a small basin with water and took some clean towels.  Wetting it, he proceeded to clean the elf the best he could, trying very hard not to become aroused by the smooth, delicate skin laid in front of him. 

The smells of dried sweats were intoxicating for they reminded him of honey and freshly cut grass after a spring rain. 

Legolas was waking up drowsily.  His body ached terribly and each breath he took hurt his ribs.  He had not realised that Aragorn was in the room until he found him looming over him and thought that the man had wanted to force himself on him.  He yelled out in fear and backed away. 

Just then Lord Elrond entered.  He witnessed the naked elf cried out and his foster son reaching out to catch the slim wrist. 

“What’s going on?” demanded Elrond. 

Both man and elf turned to look at him. 

“He’s injured again and I was trying to help him,” replied Aragorn urgently, looking back at the elf whose face had turned bright red with embarrassment.  Suddenly, he felt like a young child caught red handed. 

“Is that true?”  The elven lord looked at the young elf concernedly. 

Legolas opened his mouth, wanting to say something but words refused to come out.  Finally, he looked down and nodded once. 

The Lord of Rivendell was not happy to learn of this.  He went over to the naked elf and began to inspect his injuries, letting out sounds of frustration at times.  He found a bite mark on the elf’s left shoulder, along with many finger marks where he was held down.  He frowned at his discoveries. 

Meanwhile Legolas was humiliated beyond measures, as he was well aware of two pairs of eyes examining him tentatively.  When he heard the elven lord sighing he became afraid. 

“I’m sorry,” said Legolas quietly as Elrond ran his finger along the injuries on the surface of his anus. 

Aragorn felt his breeches suddenly becoming very tight as he witnessed the whole scene that he found to be very erotic. 

“Not your fault, Legolas.  Now be still.  I must feel your inside to see if there’s any rupture.”  His tone was filled with tender and concern. 

Legolas stiffen when he heard what the elven lord wanted to do. 

“No, please.  I’m…I’m not hurting now.  I’m…I’m all right,” stammered Legolas in a panic. 

“Aragorn, please hold him,” ordered Elrond with a sigh.  He noticed that he’d been sighing a lot this morning.  He’s definitely getting tired of this. 

Legolas wanted to run away but Aragorn caught him just in time and pinned him securely on his stomach.  The young prince wriggled like a worm from underneath. 

Lubricating his finger, Elrond then poked inside, making the young elf squealed and struggled even more.  The elven lord did not seem to notice but continue probing until he was satisfied that the Prince was not really hurt. 

Then he heard Aragorn let out a soft, strangle moan.  He looked at his foster son questioningly and noticed a twinge of blush on his tan face.  Aragorn smiled sheepishly. 

“You can let him go now.  Please get me the bandages and herbs from the second drawer.” 

Again, Lord Elrond worked silently as Aragorn noticed the young prince’s face was still bright red. 

“I will have to keep you here for another 2 days,” said Lord Elrond when he finally finished. 

Legolas did not say anything but continue to look away from them.  His hands unconsciously pulled the sheet up to his neck. 


########## 

PART 8 

There were so much tension in the healing room, and it was all because of a young elf. 

Today, Legolas would be released back to the twins’ care.  They were already hovering nearby and their eyes kept glancing back and forth between the Prince and their father.  Aragorn was standing beside one of the columns looking very grim.  He was trying not to pace around and show his anxiousness. 

Right now he didn’t know why he was so concerned about Legolas.  His mind was in turmoil.  Part of him wanted to protect the young elf so much but part of him told him not to meddle in this affair.  It pained him to look at Legolas’s melancholic expression. 

The golden prince was silent as was Lord Elrond while he took off the bandages.  He was a bit tensed himself, being affected by all his children’s mood around him. 

Legolas was staring at the floor unceasingly.  Aragorn thought that he noticed the Prince was slightly pale looking. 

And who would not?  The thought of going back to his masters had made his whole body turned weak.  His mind was restless, a buzzing noise constantly nagged at the back of brain.  Even now, his stomach had threatened to throw up all it’s content onto Lord Elrond’s laps. 

He didn’t dare look up at anyone.  The twins were definitely eyeing him like a pair of hawks ready for a kill.  As for Lord Elrond, he had seemed distant. 

The most puzzling was the man standing not far away.  He sensed some tension in him but was not sure what or why. 

This man had always confused him a lot.  Over the time they had spend talking together, he had grown to trust Aragorn bit by bit.  He was definitely very different from his brothers and even liked him a little. 

Legolas felt that Aragorn was trying to hide something and right now, he was trying his best not to show it especially towards Elladan.  But what?  Why was he uneasy towards his own foster brother? 

Despite everything that he had learned about keeping up his courtly façade in the eyes of the public, the Prince found it almost impossible not to show his feelings.  Everything threatened to crumble around him. 

“One, two, three, four,…..stop crying……seven, eight, ten……calm yourself, twelve, thirteen….,” thought Legolas, trying hard to count and remind himself not to break down in front of everyone. 

After what seemed like ages, Lord Elrond finally nodded to the twins, giving his unspoken approval. 

Both brothers broke out in grins, happy to be re-united with their consort.  Aragorn was opposite. 

Elrohir reached to grab both slender wrists and pulled him up.  Legolas had found that his limbs had suddenly failed to respond to him. 

Elladan walked over to flank Legolas, sandwiching him between them.  He had been dubious about Aragorn and even Elrohir had voiced his suspicion.  At the moment, Elladan knew Aragorn could not do anything as their father had given his consent to the twins in taking the Prince as their consort.  That means Legolas is out of bound from everyone unless they chose to share him. 

It does not matter right now.  The important thing is that Legolas was back in their arms.  His supple and slender body would writhe in ecstasy very soon.  The young prince will learn to beg for more from his masters. 

Aragorn noticed the distraught shown on Legolas’s face as he shuffled reluctantly with them.  Elrohir was still holding one of his wrists, half pulling and half guiding him. 

The man had not realised that he was staring so much that when Elrond placed a hand on his shoulder, it made him jumped. 

Shaking his head, Lord Elrond left the room for his study where Glorfindel would be waiting.  He needed a distraction. 

Aragorn also left but instead of following his foster father, he headed towards a part of the garden where the balconies of the twins overlooks.  Hiding himself behind a thick bush, not too far away, he waited and listened.  It did not take long before he heard someone crying followed by a short scream.  It made him winced and bristled with anger. 

So helpless he felt.  His mind filled with images of what the twins were doing to the unwilling elf.  It’s torturing.  What is he doing here anyway, he scolded himself.  Minutes later, the crying stopped, replaced by sounds of moaning. 

Staring darkly one last time at the balconies, Aragorn reluctantly walked away. 

* ~ * ~ * 

As soon as they stepped into the chamber, Elrohir began taking off his robe.  Legolas was still numb from fear and did not fight back.  He let the twins pulled him towards the bed. 

The bed was so big.  So many cushions.  Satin sheets.  His first time on this bed.  Pain.  No, no, he had to get out of here.  He had to. 

Legolas turned around and started to run for the door but Elladan caught his waist and pulled him to the opposite direction instead.  He clawed, kicked and bit to get out of his hold but was swiftly rewarded with a hard backhanded slap.  The force sent the small elf stumbling backwards until his legs caught the edge of the bed frame, causing him to fall onto the bed. 

His ear rang loudly. 

The two raven-haired lords helped each other to remove the Prince’s breeches and then pulled him to the centre of the bed.  They took turns to take their clothes off. 

The young elf was so terrified that he started crying like a child.  All the calm, controlled exterior just fell apart. 

Neither seemed perturbed by his behavior. 

Elladan sat on the Prince’s legs and bend down, planting kisses around the soft part of the abdomen, circling around his navel and then moving up to his nipples.  Grazing them gently with his teeth and teasing with his tongue until he heard a stifled moan from its receiver. 

“Legolas, Legolas….you will enjoy this moment.  I shall take delight in watching you beg for more later,” whispered Elrohir sweetly. 

He cupped the flushed cheeks with his hands to stop it from moving and then devoured demandingly on the soft, swollen lips.  He also gave many butterfly kisses on the tear-streaked face, working to his ears where he licked and sucked the tips.  It sent a shiver down Legolas’s spine. 

Waves upon waves of unwanted pleasure hit Legolas, as the two worked in unison, attacking non stop at the most sensitive parts of an elf, mainly the tip of his ears, his shoulders, the collarbone, the nipples, the soft part of his stomach and finally the forbidden fruit except to it’s masters. 

The young elf did not want any of this but could not stop them.  He knew his body was forced to accept this erotic pleasures. 

“Saes….,” was all that Legolas could whisper out before his mouth was taken again. 

The two brothers took turn engulfing the weakest spot, sending the elfling spiraling into oblivion, dissolving all his resolve to stop them.  Legolas was fighting to breathe as he held his breath when the heat of desire swallowed his whole being, leaving him panting afterwards. 

He tried to squirm away though when he felt a wet finger entered him.  It was not very painful this time as his body was drowning in a sea of sexual desires.  He was unable to get away for someone was always holding him in place.  Then he felt his hole was stretched further as another finger impaled him. 

Unable to control his desperate needs any longer, Elrohir entered him with a swift sheathing.  It was a rude awakening for Legolas and he couldn’t help but scream out in pain that was quickly muffled by a mouth on his. 

Elrohir knew where to hit to bring out the sweetest sensation that the elfling had yet to experience and he targeted it again and again, until Legolas voiced incoherently.  His brother smiled wickedly, one hand stroking the Prince’s sweating forehead soothingly. 

Their consort is finally at their mercy. 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

A lone elf urged his horse to gallop faster as if wargs were on his tail.  He was a messenger from the border patrol of Imladris.  He had a very urgent message that he must deliver to the Last Homely House. 

As the horse came to a stop, he jumped off in a swift acrobatic gracefulness.  Two elves intercepting him and the horse were confused by his haste as they watched him ran away in search of his lord. 

Lord Elrond and Glorfindel were burying themselves with maps and scrolls.  They were already fully dressed in war garments. 

The Lord of Imladris wore white shirt with a silver tunic and matching breeches.  A chain mail made from mithril became the third layer before a golden armor and arm-guards completed the outfit.  A belt with Rivendell’s colour – deep red, and emblem held all the garments in place.  His hair was braided and pinned in a special way, to show his status. 

Glorfindel was similarly outfitted except that he chose a deep red tunic over white shirt and blue breeches.  Only their weapons were left on a table beside the door. 

Their faces were expressionless as they discussed quietly between them. 

Suddenly the door to the study burst open.  The young messenger stumbled inside, almost out of breath.  In his haste, he had forgotten to knock the door before entering.  Both elven lords looked up calmly, except Glorfindel who frowned for the lack of manners shown to his superiors. 

The young elf gulped when he realised his mistake.  He was going to get disciplined for this. 

“Well?” asked Elrond calmly. 

“King Thranduil is attacking the eastern border now, my lords.” 

Both elven lords looked at each other and nodded as if a secret understanding had passed between them.  They each grabbed for their weapons and proceeded to exit the room.  Lord Elrond stopped and instructed the messenger to search for his twin sons to join him.  The young elf nodded in understanding, bowed and ran off. 

The time has come for what they had been preparing for the past 6 weeks. 

Elrond was tired of the feud.  He wanted to stop them once and for all.  For years he had tried to get King Thranduil to meet at neutral grounds and resolve their conflicts, only to be rewarded with the same number of years of unanswered invitations.  The snobbish king was well known to be proud, feisty and stubborn.  It seemed that his son had inherited the latter two traits. 

This was his last gamble.  To use his son as a hostage was not something Elrond was proud of.  But he had no other choice.  Even Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had failed to convince the King to settle the score with less bloodshed.  King Thranduil is not an elf that forgives and forgets easily. 

When Aragorn had turned up suddenly during the weeks of preparation for battle, Lord Elrond had thought that his foster son had finally changed his mind and would aid him.  However the King of Gondor had only come to pay a visit.  The twins weren’t happy about their half-brother’s decision and treated him coldly. 

It saddened Elrond to see his family split up due to the feud that was caused by two stubborn old elves.  But over the years, it had affected the family too. 

As they were about to step onto the front compound where their horses were waiting, Aragorn appeared to meet them. 

“It has begun, my son.  Will you be leaving now?” 

Aragorn slumped his shoulders slightly.  He wanted to stay back and help with the caring of the sick and wounded soldiers as the battle wore on but he has something really important that he must attend to. 

“Yes, father.  I must.  Please take care of yourself,” answered Aragorn finally.  “And Glorfindel, please watch his back.” 

The golden-haired elf smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t worry Aragorn.  You should go now before the borders are close,” said Glorfindel. 

Aragorn nodded. He took one more look at them and left.  They did not part with any good-byes. 

The two warriors climbed their horses and galloped away with a platoon of soldiers following behind. 


########### 

PART 9 

The whole of Rivendell was buzzing with activities.  Everyone has something to do.  Messengers ran crisscrossing each other like angry bees.  Elves with white smocks denoting that they are healers busied themselves carrying blankets and towels, to prepare for the incoming wounded. 

No one had noticed anything out of the ordinary when the King of Gondor entered Elrohir’s chamber. 

There was no one around.  He crept towards the door that connects to Elladan’s chamber with stealth taught by elves.  Placing his ear against the door, he listened for any sound of movements. 

Aragorn detected a slight noise. 

Bringing himself up to full height he opened the door, startling a guard standing by the main door on the opposite side.  He had been assigned to stand watch on the prisoner in case King Thranduil sent someone to rescue the Prince while everyone else is at battle. 

The young watcher cursed himself silently for failing to notice an invader, especially by a man.  He was staring so much at the beautiful prince asleep on the bed that his attention was neglected. 

Luckily for him, it was only Aragorn. 

“Are you the only one here?” asked Aragorn in a commanding tone. 

“No, your Majesty.  My partner has left to fetch some food.  He will be back soon.  There are also others in the garden,” answered the guard respectfully.  The young elf was slightly uneasy, as he was not used to being addressed directly by someone of such high station. 

“Good.  Lord Elrond has issued a new order.  I am to take away the Prince to another location.  It is no longer safe to keep him here.  Go find your partner and return to your company,” ordered the King of Gondor. 

The guard looked at him, confused but happy nonetheless.  He wished to be out there instead of babysitting the Prince. 

“Yes, your Majesty,” said the guard.  He bowed and left. 

Aragorn let go of his breath that he had been holding.  This was easy.  He had hoped to use the young elf’s inexperience and naivety to his advantage.  Seasoned warriors would have questioned his motive, King or not. 

Quickly, he approached the pale sleeping form lying on the bed.  Legolas was probably too tired to be able to sleep through their conversation.  He noticed that the Prince’s face was slightly swollen.  It pained his heart just to look at it. 

Taking out his hand from his pocket where he had hidden some sleeping powder, he blew them on to the Prince’s face.  Legolas stirred a little but went back into a deep sleep again. 

The King of Gondor untied the wrists from the bedposts. Using his cloak, he covered the naked prince carefully to hide him entirely.  His heart pumped furiously while he worked and his hands trembled slightly from the adrenaline rush. 

He must depart soonest in order to get away from Imladris, the war and the twins. 

Aragorn carried the elf in his arm, noting how light the Prince was.  He opened the door cautiously and peeked out to see if anyone was watching.  Seeing that the coast was clear, he sneaked out of the chamber and walked as fast as he could without attracting attentions. 

Faramir, his captain and trusted friend, was relieved to see his King appear finally.  He noted the bundled-up figure in his arms.  The King had told him that someone would be joining them on their trip back to Gondor but did not say who it is. 

He let Aragorn settle on to his horse and then passed the precious cargo to him.  The King circled an arm protectively and even a little possessively around the figure’s waist.  Together, the group of six men – Faramir riding beside his king, and the four soldiers closely behind, galloped away with all speed towards the border of Imladris and then towards Gondor. 

Their journey to Gondor was not without any detours and perils.  The occasional meetings with wild wargs and orcs attacks were swiftly dealt with. 

When they set up camp for the first night, Aragorn finally revealed their tag along. 

Sounds of sucked-in breath were heard around him when Aragorn peeled the hood away.  The group was amazed and stared open mouthed as they watched golden locks spilled out.  The lights from the campfire caused a soft glow on the elf’s face.  The azure orbs were glazed but beautiful to behold.  The perfect sculpted features showed nobility and the perfect lips slightly parted were sensuous. 

The King of Gondor looked at his companions and made them swear not to reveal the presence of the elf to anyone. 

To ease their journey, Legolas was constantly kept half-drugged.  Aragorn did not allow anyone to go near the Prince and took it upon himself to take care of his every need. 

Every night, he would sleep with the young elf in his arm and one flung possessively over the waist.  Faramir felt the change in his King but he had said nothing, at least not yet.  He strongly suspected that the unconscious elf traveling with them is Prince Legolas, son of King Thranduil and also Lord Elladan and Elrohir’s consort. 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * 

By late noon, the group finally entered through the gates of Minas Tirith.  Citizens cheered for the home coming of their King.  Banners flapped proudly and little children trailed them until their mothers called them back. 

One day before their arrival, a soldier from the group of border patrol guards who intercepted them had been sent ahead to inform the Steward of Gondor of the incoming party. 

Unfortunately, the Prince was in no condition to experience the splendor of the white city, as he was still sound asleep.  His face was carefully hidden in the cloak. 

Upon reaching the main entrance into the castle, Boromir the Steward of Gondor received them.  He was heartily shaking the King’s hand and welcoming him warmly.  However, Aragorn was not in the mood for much talk and after exchanging a few greetings, left hurriedly with the cloaked figure in his arms. 

The Steward stared at the back of the King questioningly. He turned to look at Faramir who shrugged his shoulders. 

“He’s tired, Boromir.  Rivendell and Mirkwood are in war now.” 
Aragorn headed straight for his royal chamber and laid the Prince down carefully on his huge four-poster bed.  The room was huge and richly decorated with many delicate woven tapestries, pictures with gold-gilded frames and furniture made with rare woods finely polished.  A huge stained glass window opposite the bed casts beautiful colourful ray of lights on to the floor. 

He got rid of the dirty cloak and clothed the naked prince with one of his expensive silky robes.  As his frame was small, he looked like a child in his father’s clothes. 

After tucking in the Prince, Aragorn sat beside him for a while.  He carefully brushed away the golden strands that lay across his peaceful face and boldly touched the soft cheeks gently.  He felt his fingers tingling and soon traveled up his arms and spread to his body.  Reluctantly he left the chamber to assume his duty that he had left behind for so long. 

Whenever possible, Aragorn tried to return to his chamber to check on Legolas.  He’d love to stare at the azure eyes and the slightly parted lips.  An urged came into his mind – he wanted to kiss the soft lips to taste it, to nibble it.  How tantalizing he thought. 

* ~ * ~ * 

It was late at night when Aragorn finally finished the job that requires his most urgent attention.  There were more scrolls of petitions and other matters piling on his desk but right now, he was too tired to bother about them.  He would deal with them tomorrow. 

He was just too anxious to return to Legolas.  He guessed that the elf should be awake by now and probably fuming to find him locked up in his chamber. 

Aragorn walked as fast as his legs could carry.  He didn’t want to run to avoid any suspicion or gossips.  Midway, he met a servant and instructed him to bring some food to his chamber. 

Arriving to his bedchamber, he quickly unlocked it.  He panicked slightly when he did not find the elf on his bed. 

A movement at the corner of his eyes caught his attention. 

A most beautiful sight caught his breath.  Legolas was standing by a huge glass door looking out.  The lights from the city outside cast upon him, reflecting back in a fuzzy glow.  With his own natural glow from within, a mere mortal would think that he is god. 

Legolas turned slowly and looked at him with his piercing blue eyes. 

“Am I your consort now, your Majesty?”  It was the sweetest voice the King of Gondor had heard despite the tone was sad and melancholic. 


########### 

PART 10 

“N…No,” stammered Aragorn, when he snapped out of his trance.  “Why do you think that way?” 

“Because I am in your robe, lying on your bed locked in your bedchamber.”  Legolas was still staring at him.  “Am I not right, your Majesty?”  The title was purposely spoken with a heavy emphasis. 

Aragorn did not realised the first time Legolas had addressed his title but caught the second time.  Of course it would be easy to find out as he has access to everything in his chamber. 

The King opened his mouth to say something but decided against it.  Right now, the Prince has every right to be angry and mistrust him.  He had just been taken from one place to another place without his consent and knowledge.  It was like kidnapping. 

No, the elf has every right to accuse him. 

“Why did you bring me here?”  Legolas still held his gaze steadily.  He made no effort to go anywhere. 

“I….I just wanted to protect you.  It grieves me to see you suffer like that.”  Aragorn was full of emotions now. 

Silence.  Both stared at each other resolutely. 

“I am bound to them Aragorn.  I have no choice.  You are brought up among elves, you should know better.  Even my father must accept it.”  Tears welled up in his eyes and soon overflowed, chasing one after the other down his flushed cheeks. 

The King’s heart melted at seeing the young elf so helpless.  He went over to him and embraced him tightly, wanting to squeeze out all his pain.  Legolas was right.  He is bound to the twins for all his immortal life and his only means of escaping the fate is through death.  It made him shiver at that thought. 

The prince was too overwhelmed to fight back the embrace.  He just let his whole body conform into the man’s, welcoming the relief. 

A second shiver ran down his spine when he felt the warm body so close to him.  It made him took hold of Legolas’s chin and brought it up gently so that he could look into the sad azure eyes, bright with tears.  Suddenly a strong yearning caught him again and this time, he did not will it away.  He bent down and pressed his lips against the wet, swollen ones, gradually becoming more passionate. 

The young elf seemed to enjoy his kiss at first but all too soon he felt Legolas struggling in his arms.  He placed a hand at the back of his head to stop his movement and then brazenly darted his tongue, seeking entrance. 

Legolas accepted the kiss and allowed the pleasant and tingling sensation to course through his body.  This new feeling was so foreign to him and it scares him.  However fears began to prevail over desire and he started struggling. 

He tried to push Aragorn away but the man’s strength was beyond his weaken state at the moment. 

When a whimper escaped from the trembling prince, Aragorn realised what he had done.  He chastised himself for not controlling his feelings.  Reluctantly he let the elf push him away. 
The prince’s eyes had widened in terror.  Probably the bad memories had resurfaced. 

“Please let me stay in another chamber,” pleaded Legolas, his voice slightly shaky. 

“I’m sorry Legolas.  I shouldn’t have done that,” muttered Aragorn, his head dropped in shame. 

A moment of awkwardness.  “Come, I will show you to one of the guest chamber,” 

Aragorn led the way out, with the prince following at an arm’s length behind.  He didn’t dare walk close to the man.  He no longer trusted him. 

They walked almost ten doors down the wide passage lined with lighted torch, walls graced with more pictures of past ancestors and more rich tapestries, before Aragorn stopped. 

He opened the door and entered first.  He lighted several candles to give light in the room, revealing it to be just as richly and tastefully decorated. 

Then Aragorn came out and let Legolas pass.  Taking out a small, simple dagger hidden inside his right boot, he held it out with the hilt to the elf. 

“Take this.  I may be king here, but I do not trust everyone,” 

Legolas took it without a word and closed the door behind him.  He made sure that he locked it. 

Sighing heavily, he went to the bed and sat on it.  The metal in his hand felt cold, as cold as death.  He turned the dagger round and round, observing the way light reflects on its surface.  Then he held out his right palm to his face. 

A pain flashed in his eyes.  It had reminded him too much about something he wished to forget. 

Finally yawning from exhaustion, he placed the dagger on the side table and snuggled under the cover.  Soon sleep overcame him. 

* ~ * ~ * 

Neither had known that a pair of eyes watched them with interest.  The figure had hidden behind a huge tapestry.  Only after the King had entered his chamber and closed the door did he come out. 

It was Boromir, the King’s steward. 

He had been walking along the passage when he noticed the door to the King’s bedchamber was left opened.  He heard two voices speaking though barely audible.  One voice he recognised as Aragorn’s but he could not identify the second.  It was strange – smooth, melodious and hypnotizing. 

It tweaked his interest.  That was why he hid himself behind the tapestry hoping to find out whom the voice belonged to.  His wait had not been long. 

“Interesting,” said Boromir to himself.  “The King has brought home an elf,” 


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Sorrry everyone for the late posting of my writings.  Seemed like there was a problem in sending my stories to Moria.  However I've managed to do it.  Thanks for the patients...Red