Title: Kleine Taube
Author: Littlestkitten
Email: kurabate@hotmail.com
Pairing: Legolas/Aragorn
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I own LotR. NOT!
Warning: Allusion to rape and possible rape in future chapters.

Summary: The king of Gondor stumbles upon a slave in horrible conditions. Who is
this slave and why does he look so familiar?

Author's Note: I will write more if I think that people like my story. This is
only the prologue. If you want more send feedback, I know, I'm a horrible
blackmailer.

Feedback: Yes please. See, I asked nicely, now please send reviews.



------



The man looked around him in disdain. He always hated going to this particular
person's house. He didn't have any true evidence of the fact, but he was pretty
sure that the man was a slave trader. Even if he wasn't, he obviously didn't
have any respect for his servants, and that in itself made the king wary of
him.

As he walked down the hallway, only half paying attention to what the nobleman
was saying, he noticed a half-ajar door. He didn't know what made him do it, but
he came to a halt and peeked through the doorway.
	
Just inside, lying on a bed spread with silken sheets, he saw the most
beautiful, and at the same time, pitiful sight he had ever seen. An elf of
breathtaking beauty lay on the bed in silken clothes that could only be
described as a harem outfit. They consisted of a flimsy material that barely
covered anything, but instead just made you wish that you could see underneath
it all the more.
	
It was light blue in color, and accented the figure's fair hair. The outfit was
made from a type of silk that looked expensive. The shirt didn't close, and
barely went as far as the midsection of the elf. By this he could tell that the
figure was male, though as lovely as any maiden. He had never called a man
beautiful, but felt that this was an exception. Well, there had been one male
that he had labeled beautiful, but he was dead and the king did not wish to
think of him. Leggings of the same material completed the outfit, and the man
noticed that several silver chains were wrapped around the gorgeous elf's wrists
and ankles and were connected to the bedpost.
	
The owner of the house must have noticed his pause, for he had turned around and
was watching the nobleman with a knowing smirk upon his lips.
	
"Beautiful, isn't he," the loathsome man commented in his oily voice. "If you
wish, you may buy him. I'm sure he will, uh, fulfill your pleasures, my lord,
even if he is male." This last part was said with a malignant tone that made the
king positive, if he hadn't been already, of exactly what the fair elf was being
used as.
	
Being a noble man, he could not just let such a creature suffer, but he knew
that if he acted compassionate the slaver wouldn't let him buy the elf. He
forced a smirk upon his face, walked over to the slumbering elf and rudely
awoke him. He couldn't help but notice how the creamy skin felt silky smooth
even after its rough treatment. The elf woke quickly and cringed away, a look
of fear crossing his face before it was replaced by one of neutral compliance.
	
The mortal man grabbed the immortal being's chin and jerked it upward, examining
the face before him. To his surprise the elf looked familiar to him, though he
didn't know why. He pretended to look him over so as to please the suspicions of
the slave master.
	
After he felt that enough time had gone by, he asked the slippery man how much
he wanted for the fair creature. The man instantly named an outrageously high
price, which the king countered with his own outrageously low price. They
bantered for awhile before coming to an agreement on a still too-high price. But
at the moment, the man would have been willing to pay anything to get the elf to
safety. He had to be realistic, though; his treasury was not all that
extensive, and he still needed money for the trip back to his kingdom.
	
After he was done paying, he requested travel clothes for the elf, which the
greasy man was quick enough to supply. Soon he was on his way, with the
seemingly young elf clutching to his saddle.
	
The king of Gondor wondered what he would do with his new slave, how he hated
that word, and wondered how he was going to explain this without Arwen killing
him first. Well, first things first, he would definitely need to get some food,
for he could clearly see every rib of the elf. Also, they would need a place to
stay; night was falling fast, and he almost wished that he hadn't refused to
spend the night at the house he had just been visiting. Nay, even if it did
result in a few more hours of weariness for him, he was glad that he had got the
elf out of that place.
	
With that in mind, King Elessar adjusted the reins of his horse and continued
on. It would only be a few hours to the next village, anyhow, and he could
handle the small fatigue. He had suffered much more on the quest for the ring.



END PART ONE


      Tittle: Kleine Taube Parts 2-10
      
      Author: littlestkitten (kurabate@hotmail.com)
      
      Rating: R
      
      Warnings: Rape
      
      Summary: See Part 1
      
      Disclaimer: See Part 1
      
      A/N: Sorry I haven’t sent this in earlier but I’ve been lazy. I was 
looking at the Aragorn/Legolas section and noticed the first part and felt 
rather guilty for not updating this. I end this story on a cliffhanger (yes it is 
the ending, don’t send me e-mails asking for the rest. I’ve gotten far to 
many of those) and am sorry for that. But, I have a sequel. I won’t put it 
on this site unless you review though. Aren’t I evil? Sorry for the wait, if 
indeed any of you have been waiting for the rest of this. I’m also going to 
send in the interlude. It will help with understanding the sequel, kind of, so 
read it. Leggy treats galore to anyone who guesses who Arwen’s lover is. 
I’ll give you a clue, his name starts with a G.=^.^=
      
Feedback: No feedback= no sequel.
      
      Part 2
      
      Legolas woke up in a strange room on a strange bed in strange 
clothes. He blinked his eyes disoriented for a second before he 
remembered all that had happened the day before. Being sold, riding to 
this inn, and finally falling into an exhausted sleep thankful that his new 
master didn’t seem to want anything from him so far.
	Of course that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Just because the 
man hadn’t forced himself upon him the first night didn’t mean that he 
wouldn’t on a future date. Perhaps the man had been just as tired as he.
	His new master confused him greatly. He seemed to radiate a sense 
of kindness around him that was comforting. And the human looked very 
familiar. He couldn’t quite place where he had seen the man before but he 
knew that he had. 
	The man had paid a high price for him, which meant that he had to 
be rich. Probably someone of noble birth then. His very presence had 
insisted noble heritage. He might even be a king. It didn’t matter though, 
king or no the man would most likely want him for only one thing. His 
body.
	He had grown used to it, still as he was passed around and bought 
like a pretty bauble and then thrown away to the next person, he always 
felt the sense of shame for what had happened to him. Sure, it wasn’t his 
fault. In fact there was nothing he could have done to have stopped this 
from happening, but still, he couldn’t help but blame himself.
	His new master walking in the door interrupted his thoughts. He 
instantly scrambled out of the bed and onto his knees expecting a beating 
for sleeping in. The man instead of hitting him pulled him gently to his 
feet and smiled at him. Legolas stared at him in surprise before dropping 
his eyes remembering that it was not his place to lift his eyes in front of 
his betters.
	The man frowned slightly at this and brought his chin up by using 
his hand to exert pressure under his jaw. He kept his eyes lowered though, 
not wanting to show disrespect and risk a beating.
	“Look at me,” his master commanded and Legolas quickly looked 
up to appease him. 
	“What’s your name?” the man asked gently noticing the look of 
fear that had gone through the elf’s eyes when he had used that harsh tone 
of voice. He hadn’t meant to scare him it was just annoying that he 
wouldn’t look at him.
	Legolas tried hard to quench his fear, obviously the man didn’t 
want him to be afraid. He gulped slightly thinking about what name he 
should give. He settled on the one that his most recent master had given 
him for his meek and timid nature,
	“Kleine Taube,” he whispered lowering his gaze out of habit. He 
quickly noticed his mistake and looked back up hoping that his master 
wouldn’t be to mad at him for his slip up.
	His master however didn’t seem to notice. He was instead 
contemplating his name and wondering what it meant for he recognised it 
to be of the language used between slaves and slavers.
	“What does it mean?” He asked curious.
	“Little Dove,” Legolas whispered, “For my fair skin and 
meekness.”
	Aragorn frowned at this. The elf should be full of joy and laughter 
just as Lego... no he would not think of his dead friend. It still brought 
back painful memories. He looked back down at the elf who was doing his 
best to stand still. He had let his head fall back down for his neck was 
aching from previous wounds.
	Aragorn all of a sudden realised that the fair elf was injured. This 
would not do. He was sure that the elf would heal but sometimes grief 
would slow the healing process and he didn’t want that to result in 
anything permanent.
	Without thinking he commanded in a voice that meant he was not 
in the mood for arguments, for the elf to take off his shirt. The immortal 
look at him with a look akin to fear that confused Aragorn greatly before 
complying and taking of his shirt.
	Aragorn stepped forward and not noticing, or if he did thinking it 
from pain, the whimpers that escaped the elf, methodically started running 
his hands over the alabaster skin of the beautiful creature before him. He 
didn’t expect “Kleine Taube” to react the way he did. He soon realised 
that the young elf was crying. He stopped his search for wounds and stared 
at the tear-streaked face in confusion.
	“I’m sorry master,” came the choked sob from Legolas who had 
noticed that his master had stopped what he was doing and feared that it 
was because of his tears, “I’ll try to be better, I promise it won’t happen 
again.”
	Aragorn blinked his eyes a few times before realising what the elf 
must have thought that he was doing. His eyes widened in surprise before 
he stared cursing in every language he knew. Of course! The elf had just 
been rescued from what had to have been a harem and he had just made 
him take off his shirt and had started touching him. Of course the elf 
thought that he was going to force himself upon him.
	“Shh, it’s okay,” he said in his most calming voice wiping the tears 
away, “don’t worry I’m not going to do anything to you. I’m just checking 
for wounds. I would never do that to anyone. Don’t worry your safe with 
me.”
	Legolas stared at him in surprise. Had he just said that he had no 
intention of forcing himself upon Legolas, ever? Nobody, well at least not 
since he had been enslaved, had ever been that nice to him.
	He looked up at the human and for the first time in three years 
actual hope could be seen in his eyes. He smiled tentatively at Aragorn 
and was rewarded with a kind smile from his master.

Part 3

	Legolas smiled, for the first time in years he was actually happy. 
His new master was very nice to him. He had even let him sleep in a bed. 
Before he had always been beaten for that, or he was pulled painfully 
across one of his “clients” and would have preferred the floor.
	His master had even kept his promise about not forcing himself on 
Legolas. To tell the truth though, he probably wouldn’t have minded 
much. The human was extremely handsome, with stormy grey eyes that 
threatened to drown him in their depths and beautiful chestnut curls that 
framed his slightly angular face. He wondered how it would feel to run his 
hands down that sculpted chest... 
	He quickly shook himself out of his daydreams. What was he 
doing? Why would such a magnificent creature want him? And anyway 
the man wouldn’t be looking after his pleasures; he would just be acting 
the part of the whore. His master would never truly want him, not in the 
way that he wanted his master.
	A knocking at his door interrupted his thoughts. He froze 
wondering who it could be until he heard his master’s melodious voice 
asking for permission to enter. He couldn’t believe it; somebody for once 
was asking his permission to do something.
	His master called his name again and with horror he realised that 
he had forgotten to answer the door. With growing dread he slid off the 
bed and opened the door. As was his habit his eyes never once left the 
floor and he quickly dropped to his knees murmuring an apology.
	“Don’t apologise Taube, you didn’t do anything wrong.” They had 
agreed that his master would call him Taube because Kleine Taube was to 
long and cumbersome. He didn’t know what he was supposed to call his 
master, he had frowned when Legolas had tried to call him master, but 
hadn’t offered an alternative name.
	His master had pulled Legolas up and led him over to the bed. At 
first he thought that his master had gone back on his word and was going 
to assault him. He soon figured out though, that his master just wanted to 
talk. He listened with half his concentration the other half noticing how his 
master’s lips looked so sensuous and wondering at how he would taste.
	“Taube? Are you listening to me?”
	Legolas gasped realising that he hadn’t been paying attention and 
started to hastily apologise before his master quieted him. His master 
smiled at and repeated some of what he had said.
	The man had been talking about what Legolas would do when they 
got to Gondor. He said that he had no intention of keeping Legolas as a 
slave, but if he wanted to he could live with him for awhile to get back on 
his feet. Legolas quickly declined excitement making him forget to be 
meek and mild.
	They were going to Gondor! He would be able to see the 
fellowship again. Oh how he had missed them. They probably thought him 
dead or something. He couldn’t wait to see them again, Frodo, Sam, the 
mischievous Merry and Pippin. His good friends Gimli and Gandalf. And 
best of all he would be able to see Aragorn.
	He felt the keen of loss far more toward Aragorn then anyone else. 
He didn’t know when it had happened, but for a long time he had been in 
love with the partial elf. His greatest regret of being a slave was the fact 
that he would never be able to see Aragorn again, or get his chance to tell 
him his true feelings.
	Ever since his friend and Arwen had broken up he had been 
waiting for his chance, the perfect moment to tell him his feelings. He 
knew that Aragorn loved someone, but he didn’t know whom. That’s the 
reason why Arwen and him had broken up. That and the fact that Arwen 
also loved another. Nobody knew who but they were quite sure of it and 
Arwen had even hinted at it herself.
	He smiled his first true smile in three years thinking about how 
wonderful it would be to see all his friends again. Maybe he would be able 
to get Arwen to tell him whom she loved. They had always been good 
friends and she had been the only person that he had told his feelings to. 
The feelings about Aragorn that is.
	He was made aware again by the fact that his master was leaving 
the room. He hadn’t realized that he had been daydreaming so long. Any 
other master would of hit him for it, but this one uttered no reproach, 
instead he smiled and said that he was going to get something to drink and 
would be back in a few hours.
	Legolas smiled back at him and said that he would get an early 
rest. He would of never of been so daring with his other masters but he 
had learned in the few days, that they had been there to recuperate, that he 
could state his opinion and mostly do anything of his free will.
	There was one thing that his master had not let him do, and that 
was leave the room without a trusted escort. He knew perfectly well the 
reason for this. There were slavers out there who would recognise him and 
kidnap him to sell him again. Until they got to Gondor he was not safe. He 
would prefer to stay inside then to risk getting captured again.
	He would die rather then be put back into slavery. He shuddered, 
remembering the beatings he had received and the sexual assaults and 
cruelty of his masters. They had forced vile droughts down his throat, 
which had made his memories fuzzy. He could barely even recall the faces 
of his friends, even Aragorn. 
	It was interesting, and disturbing, that Aragorn’s face was now 
looking more akin to his master’s. He didn’t understand this and wasn’t 
about to look into it. He himself must look completely different. One of 
his previous masters had scarred his face heavily and he was afraid to take 
of the veil he now wore, for he didn’t want to see what they had done to 
his face. His master had put a spell on it so prospective clients wouldn’t be 
scared away.
	Now without his previous master’s magic he was afraid to look, 
afraid of what his new master and his friends would think of him. He did 
not want to seem ugly in front of people. People, who had always called 
him beautiful, he didn’t wish their disapproval.
	He wondered for the millionth time if he should tell his master who 
he really was, and once again he decided against it. Why bring shame onto 
his family? Besides he didn’t think to trust this man so fast, though he 
seemed noble enough, he wasn’t sure if he could truly trust the man and 
wondered if he would try to sell him for ransom. 
	He shook his head. He was having a hard time staying awake, 
besides they needed an early start for tomorrow. They were continuing on 
their journey to Gondor. He decided that it was best to leave these 
thoughts for the morrow and try to get some sleep while he could.

Part 4

	Legolas didn't know what had woken him. He sat there straining to 
hear or feel whatever it had been. He remembered back to a time before he 
was a slave, when he would sit on watch straining to hear or see any 
danger that would come at them. Even though at any second he could have 
died on that quest, it was still one of the happiest times of his life.
	He had been with his friends; true friends not ones just looking for 
his father’s favour. He had had far to many friends like that. They had 
always come pretending and flattering, but all they wanted was his father’s 
favour. 
	But the fellowship hadn’t been like that. They saw him for who he 
was, not some spoiled prince, but a real person. The hobbits couldn’t have 
cared less if he was a prince and Gimli didn’t like elves at first so he 
probably would have disliked him all the more for it. Aragorn was already 
going to be a king and he was Elrond’s foster son, he didn’t need petty 
connections like being friends with Thranduil's youngest son. Gandalf, 
well, Gandalf was Gandalf. He cared more about character then being 
born by the right people at the right time.
	Now as he sat in bed, fear eating at him, he wished more then ever 
that he was back in Gondor. Back among his true friends. He would be 
safe there. Nobody would hurt him. Aragorn wouldn’t let them. He had 
always resented Aragorn’s protectiveness of him, but now he wished he 
still had someone to look after him.
	There, the noise had come again. It was from his doorway. He 
could hear the creaking of the wooden floor as somebody walked up to the 
door. The person, whoever they were, wasn’t trying to sneak, he was sure 
that if they were he wouldn’t have awoken. It was more a natural grace 
that made their footsteps hard detect.
	Legolas looked around the room quickly, panic pulsing through his 
system. He took deep breaths, knowing that panic would be his undoing. 
	His eyes rested on a dagger his master had left on the table near the 
bed. It was also close to the door and Legolas wondered if he could get it 
in time. Well he would never know until he tried. He hoped his master 
wouldn’t be to mad at him for using the dagger.
	He slid out of bed; his natural grace making it so he could walk 
silently. His footsteps were louder then they had used to be, but he was 
sure that most humans would be unable to hear him. Just as he was 
reaching for the well-worn handle of the dagger the door flew open. There 
stood his first master, the man who had broken his spirit.
	“Well meine Kleine Taube, it’s good to see you again.”
	Legolas gulped, knowing exactly why this man was glad to see 
him. Panic raced through his system unquenched. As his old master 
stepped towards him he took a step backwards running into the bed and 
falling upon it. The dagger flew out of his hand and the evil man before 
him closed and locked the door with a resounding click.

****

	Aragorn watched the two men near the staircase suspiciously. 
Those men had been watching him all night long. They had tried to 
conceal their glances, but Aragorn knew when someone was watching and 
knew that these men meant no good.
	He was worried about Taube. He hadn’t seen anyone go up the 
stairs but that didn’t mean that somebody couldn’t have climbed through 
one of the upstairs windows or already have been there.
	He stood up, watching the men carefully out of the corner of his 
eye. He was slightly drunk so he would have to be careful. The men were 
definitely watching his movements; they were positioning themselves 
close to the staircase like guards ready to stop intruders.
	He walked up to the stairs and stopped giving them a pointed look. 
They quelled under his gaze but didn’t move. He sighed and looked 
around to see if they had any friends. Apparently not, there was nobody 
else in the room, even the owner and bartender had left. Well this would 
make it easy. They must of thought that he would get drunk and not be too 
much trouble.
	He would show them. Nobody got the best of the king of Gondor. 
Even though he had been king for many years and was a little soft, he 
knew that he was strong enough to beat these two. But first he would at 
least make a semblance on an offer for them to leave.
	“If you don’t move right now I’ll kill you.” There, that was a 
reasonable warning. The guys shifted slightly but held their ground. They 
seemed reasonably scared of Aragorn, but were far more scared of what 
would happen if Antatar found out that they had let him by.
	Before the men could get over their hesitation, Aragorn drew his 
sword, letting out a fierce battle cry, and stabbed the first through his 
stomach. He shifted his grip on the sword and plunged it through the 
unfortunate man’s heart.
	The other guard stared in horror at his friend, drawing his sword; 
he backed away from the crazed man before him. His feet collided with 
the stairs and he fell backwards in an undignified heap. He raised his 
sword in an ineffective block and soon joined his comrade at death’s 
gates.
	Aragorn wasted no time and sprinted up the stairs three at a time. 
His fear for Taube was growing and he wished that he hadn’t spent so 
much time watching the men before doing something. He was almost 
certain that they were there for the specific reason of blocking him. They 
hadn’t even tried to stop the other patrons who occupied the inn.
	He leaped over the last two stairs and onto the landing. Turning 
left he almost ran straight into the innkeeper. Hastily apologising, he 
didn’t even stop to help the other man up. 
	He bent all of his will on reaching his room. Down one corridor 
and up another flight of steps, and finally he was in front of their door. He 
grabbed the doorknob and tried unsuccessfully to open the thick wooden 
door.
	He cursed in every language he knew and slammed his shoulder 
against the door. He heard a shout, someone calling for help, and 
redoubled his efforts. He just knew that Taube was in there, and that he 
was in trouble.

****

	Legolas whimpered in pain as the larger man drove his elbow into 
his ribs. He heard another crash as whomever it was, probably his master, 
tried to get into the room. If the person didn’t hurry up it would be to late 
and Antatar would have his way with him. He was confused as to why 
Antatar hadn’t just grabbed him and left. Perhaps he only wanted one 
night of pleasure, or maybe just to show Legolas that he could take him, 
again.
	Antatar always confused him. He was not the type of man whose 
plans could be unravelled. He was seemingly spontaneous but at the same 
time always had a plan for everything. 
	He had been the one to capture Legolas for the first time. He had 
spent months trying to break his spirit and hadn’t allowed anyone but 
himself to touch him. But after that he let anyone who would pay a high 
enough price have him. Yet, every once in a while, at irregular intervals, 
he would take on that same possessive manner towards him.
	One day out of the blue he had up and sold Legolas. His new 
master had been a greedy merchant whose business was supposed to be in 
spices, but was really in slaves.
	He didn’t see his old master for many months. Until one day, there 
he was asking to buy Legolas for the weekend and paying a high price for 
the pleasure. After that he had come back every first weekend of each 
month with the same request and same amount of money. In a world 
where every day was an uncertainty Antatar was a reliable, nay not 
reliable, nothing was reliable about Antatar, but an unfailing force in his 
life.
	He had been sold from master to master. All had eventually given 
into Antatar, even the possessive ones who had had no intention of letting 
anyone but themselves touch him. There was one thing different about this 
time though, every other time Antatar had gained permission from his 
master so Legolas had been forced to comply.
	But now, Antatar had not asked his master. Legolas could now, 
with no fear of reproach, fight back. He hoped that his master would hurry 
up and get here, Antatar had already gotten his clothes off and was 
running his unwanted hands across Legolas’ smooth silky skin.
	Legolas let out a half whimper, he had always hated having hands 
on him. It was worse now because he had felt secure, he had thought that 
it would never happen to him again. 
	Antatar was divesting himself of clothing; it was only a matter of 
time before he took advantage of Legolas.  His pants were being difficult 
and the fastenings would not come undone. The man would be in the room 
very soon. He needed to hurry up and be done with this. He would leave 
his mark on the elf. Even though it was bothersome for him, he was almost 
glad that his Kleine Taube had been sold to a kind man. He had healed 
fast, but he would not heal so fast if it happened to him a second time. 
Soon the elf would be his and only his for all of eternity.

	****
	
	Aragorn burst into the room; the sight that greeted him was more 
then enough to make him go crazy with rage for the second time that 
night. Taube was naked and struggling weakly with a man who was 
fumbling with his trousers.
	The man cursed in the slaver language and leapt to his feet, hastily 
retying the lace work on his pants. Aragorn saw red as he leapt at the man 
who drew a sword at the last second and parried.
	Steal rang on steal as the two master swords men danced a dance 
of death. All the while Legolas sat against the ornate headboard of his bed 
and prayed to Elbereth that his master would win. He had grown attached 
to his master in the few days that he had known him, and he definitely 
didn’t want anything to happen to the man, especially not if it was because 
of him.
	He remembered similar battles he had seen, except then he was one 
of the people fighting, not the thing fought over. He felt useless, unable to 
help himself, having to rely on others to save him. He felt dirty; something 
to be bought and then thrown away when bored with. He felt like the 
whore he was.
	He was jerked out of his self-loathing by a sword clattering to the 
floor. It was Antatar’s. He had been bested for one of the first times in his 
adult life. Using a trick taught to him by a minor wizard, he faded away. 
The trick was to slowly disappear so that your opponent would lose sight 
of you. The wizard hadn’t been that good at it but he had mastered it. Even 
somebody looking directly at him who knew the trick would lose sight of 
him. He had killed the wizard after he had learned the trick.
	He wasn’t about to lose his prey so easily though. He made one 
final grasp towards Legolas, but somehow Aragorn had figured out where 
he was. Antatar screeched in animal rage. He jerked back just in time, 
instead of killing him the blow had only succeeded in marring his perfect 
face.
	“I will get you for this. Nobody draws my blood without getting 
repayment. Don’t get too comfortable I will be back. You will be mine 
Kleine Taube, you will be mine.”

****

	Aragorn sighed and leaned against the doorway. He was quite 
tired. He had already been tired in the first place and fighting with three 
people one who was a master swordsman did not help his fatigued state. 
After the adrenaline had left his system he had lost all semblance of 
strength.
	But he still had to look after Taube. From the looks of it he was 
deeply shaken. Stumbling forward Aragorn somehow made it to the bed. 
He pulled his tired and aching body up next to the elf and started looking 
for injuries.
	Although he tried to stop himself he couldn’t help but notice how 
beautiful the elf looked, with his flushed face and fear widened eyes. 
Before his mind could comprehend what he was doing, his instinctual 
desire arose and made him place one desire-laden kiss upon Taube’s lips. 
The elf whimpered but did not flinch away.
	Aragorn realised what he was doing with sudden dismay and 
jerked away. Taube stared up at him with confused, and slightly scared, 
eyes. Aragorn shook his head in denial. He hadn’t just done that had he? 
The elf would have a hard enough time recovering from this attack, he 
didn’t need to go and make things worse by showing his lust? Love? To 
the elf.
	He sighed and in a soft soothing tone told Taube to go to sleep. He 
would deal with this tomorrow. Aragorn stood, not trusting himself to 
sleep in the same bed as the alluring elf, and walked over to the room’s 
only chair and sat down. He doubted that the man would attack again 
tonight, he might as well get what little sleep he could.
	****
	Legolas woke with a start. He quickly turned it into movements in 
his sleep for he knew that the man was watching him. He was used to 
peoples stares, certainty he had got enough at the various whorehouse he 
had worked in. But this was unnerving, he could tell that while the look 
was of half of lust it was also half of, love? Surely not, why would such a 
noble man love him? He was a dirty used whore. He didn’t deserve this 
man’s kindness, let alone his love.
	He realised that he was still naked, and while he was used to it, for 
some reason he still felt a blush work it’s way up his cheeks till it stopped 
at the tips of his ears.
	He hoped that the man wouldn’t notice. With a growing fear he 
realised that the veil he always wore was coming off. With subtle 
movements he adjusted the veil slightly so that it would cover his entire 
face, leaving none of the dreadful scars showing.
	“Ah ha,” Aragorn said a triumph not in his voice, “so you are 
awake. I was wondering if that was so. I don’t see why you keep that veil 
up all the time. Did something happen to your face? And if something did, 
surely it can’t be that bad.”
	Legolas stared at his master in surprise and slight horror. How had 
he known that he was awake? Surely he hadn’t been that obvious. He 
hoped his master would not be to offended.
	He noticed in bemused detachment that his master had gotten up 
and was walking toward the bed. In an instant reaction he slapped the 
man’s hand away before his veil could be taken off.
	Aragorn raised an eyebrow at this, so the elf was willing to fight 
for his veil to stay? Odd, that such a simple thing would rouse such 
feelings in the elf. Well as stubborn as the elf might be, they always said 
that he was stubborn too. When he set his mind to something he almost 
never didn’t succeed.
	In a quick movement, barely discernible to the eye, he ripped the 
veil from Taube’s face. What he saw made him gasp, half with joy and 
half with horror.
	Legolas saw that look and mistook it for disgust; he lowered his 
eyes in shame, hoping his master wouldn’t sell him for his disfigurement. 
His chin was jerked upwards and he wondered why his master wanted a 
better look at such ugliness.
	So wrapped up in self pity was he, that he didn’t notice the look of 
recognition come over his master’s face. It took a couple of seconds for it 
to dawn on him that his master wasn’t looking at him in disgust; instead he 
was looking at him with compassion and slight sadness. 	
	He reached his hands up to feel his face, expecting to move over 
tons of scar tissue. Instead, he could only find small thin lines of the stuff 
that he could tell would soon be healed. The only prominent one was the 
scar right under his eye that he could tell, would never heal.
	His master gulped, drawing his attention. His master seemed to 
want to ask him something. He seemed slightly happy, but at the same 
time apprehensive. Legolas gave what he thought to be a smile meaning to 
continue he couldn’t remember if he was doing it right.
	“Taube,” his master started out hesitantly. “When exactly were you 
captured?”
	“About three years ago master.” Legolas answered respectively.
	“Was this by any chance near Gondor?” The man asked more sure 
of himself.
	Legolas nodded his head. How could this man know that? Surely 
he didn’t know him from somewhere? Well, it didn’t matter, he was sure 
that he would find out sooner or later. He could tell that his master was 
going to continue, so he set aside his thoughts and prepared himself for the 
next question. If, at that time, he had known exactly what that question 
was going to be, he would of known that no preparing he could ever do 
would be efficient.
	“Is, by any chance,” His master started, “your name Legolas?”

Part 5

	Legolas jerked his head up and stared at his master. How could he 
of known? Had they been friends before? He looked carefully at the man 
before him, the stormy grey eyes, the chestnut hair, it all made sense to 
him. Of course, how could he have been so stupid? Well, there was only 
one way to be sure, and he wasn’t about to waste any time dancing around 
it. He would just have to ask, and what harm could come of it if he was 
wrong?
	“Aragorn?” He asked.
	His eyes wandered over the man’s face, uncertainty apparent upon 
his face. If he was wrong... Well, nothing too bad would happen, but still, 
it would be a nasty shock for him. He was so close to being with the man 
that he loved. If this person wasn’t him, it would make him uncertain 
about his true feelings for Aragorn.
	If this man wasn’t who he thought he was, then that would mean 
that he had fallen in love with someone new. He didn’t want to think about 
the complications that would bring along. He knew that he was still in love 
with Aragorn, but how could he love two separate people?
	He looked up, uncertainty apparent in his eyes. Hs master was 
watching him; the man made no attempt to hide the fact. He hoped that 
this was truly Aragorn, yet, if he was, would he still look at him in the 
same light? Or would he be disgusted that Legolas couldn’t help himself? 
At the state that he was in? It didn’t seem like a thing Aragorn would do. 
But then again, people change, especially humans. He certainly had in the 
past three years.
	“Legolas, is that really you?” 
	Legolas blinked his eyes in surprise. He realised that he must have 
been staring off into space or something similar to that. Completely on 
instinct he muttered a quick apology bowing his head in submission.
	“You don’t have to apologise to me Legolas, you are Legolas 
aren’t you?”
	Legolas nodded his consent, and caught himself just before he was 
about to apologise again. He wasn’t sure, but he had strong suspicions that 
this was Aragorn. Why else would he act so much like his friend? And 
why else would he know who he was?
	The man smiled at him and with an exclamation of joy started 
telling how worried they had been for him. He listened with divided 
attention; his mind was still processing the new information he had 
learned. Mumbling what he thought to be appropriate responses and 
storing away a few important pieces of information, he sat there for almost 
a hour half listening to his mas... no not master, Aragorn. He was quite 
positive Aragorn wouldn’t want him as a slave, he had said as much 
before.
	As the man talked Legolas began to get hungry and tired. Normally 
he would have just ignored it, but he knew that now that he was eating at 
regular intervals it would be harmful to stop. He was sure that both parties 
would appreciate a break for food. He waited for an appropriate lull in 
Aragorn’s one-sided conversation to give voice to his query.
	“Oh, I’m so sorry Legolas,” the man hastily apologised, “I can’t 
believe that I forgot about that. I must be boring you to death. I must have 
been talking for at least two hours. It’s just that I haven’t seen you for 
three years and for most of that time have thought you dead.”
	Legolas instantly regretted mentioning anything. He was sure that 
if he had thought that Aragorn had been dead for three years he would 
have talked just as long and probably more. 
	Before he could apologise and say that food wasn’t necessary, 
Aragorn was up and hastily grabbing clothing for them to wear. He tossed 
some clothing at Legolas that was slightly to big but would fit him well 
enough. He quickly pulled on the green leggings and tunic that went with 
it that was brown in color, and followed Aragorn out the door and down to 
the main lodge to get some food.
	They were not expecting what they found when they got there. A 
crowd was gathered around the middle of the room, Aragorn pushed his 
way forward to the front, pulling Legolas with him.
	On the ground lay two men who Aragorn recognised as the ones he 
had killed. A rather distraught innkeeper was explaining to the local 
authorities that he didn’t know what had happened. Aragorn remembered 
with a start that while this was a lawless city, you weren’t supposed to be 
caught at any crime lest you want to be thrown into prison.
	Aragorn backed away dragging Legolas with him. Legolas was too 
busy staring at the men curiously. They looked like some of Antatar’s 
men. He was about to give words to his thoughts when he saw Aragorn’s 
face and smartly held his tongue. Aragorn apparently knew perfectly well 
who these men were, and would most likely not want Legolas to alert 
people to this fact.
	They retreated to their room to make plans. Aragorn dug through 
his pack and pulled out some dried bread for them to eat. It was tough and 
not very tasty but it would be sufficient.
	Aragorn recounted what had happened to the men and they decided 
that it would be best to leave as soon as possible. They hastily gathered 
their belongings and made for the door. They stopped halfway down the 
stairs when they heard people coming up form below. Casting his gaze 
around Aragorn noticed an open window and tugged Legolas towards it.
	They made it just in time and with one last glance to see if anyone 
was watching they fled out the window and into the midday greet. The 
window they had chosen was, luckily, in the back of the inn so no one saw 
them. They creeped to the small adjacent stable and untied some horses 
for them to ride. Aragorn felt a little guilty about stealing a horse, but he 
knew that his horse couldn’t carry both he and Legolas for long and they 
needed to leave as soon, and as fast as possible.
	Soon they were out on the wide-open plain heading towards 
Gondor. It was perfect summer day. The sun was shining brightly and the 
clouds, which were short in number, were fluffy and white. Any other 
time they would have paused to enjoy the lovely day, but not now. They 
needed to reach Gondor before anyone decided to come after them. While 
it was beautiful the plain gave them no cover and would make it easy far 
people to follow them, even inexperienced trackers would have an easy 
job of locating them.
	About thirteen leagues ahead there were some hills though. They 
weren’t very high, only reaching into the sky about five miles. They would 
make sufficient cover though, and in an unspoken agreement they both 
dug their heels in and at a smart canter made for the hills.

Part 6

	Legolas gasped in fear, he tried in vain to make the hands stay off 
him. It was quite impossible seeing that he was chained to the bed. A loud 
sob broke the near silence of the room and he was surprised to find out 
that it was his. In all the time that he had been there he had never cried out 
before this man.
	It hardly seemed to matter now; his pride had been broken far to 
many times for a simple thing like that to matter. All that mattered was for 
the hands to go away. He had never liked physical contact; he simply 
hated hands on him that weren’t his. Later in his life he had regretted it, 
but he had always had a shield up around him, discouraging people from 
touching him.
	His struggles intensified when he felt the hands tear at his clothing. 
No! His mind franticly screamed at him to do something, anything. He 
knew perfectly well what the man wanted from him, and he would be 
damned if he let this man take it from him.
	Such shame he would not allow. What would his father say? He 
would most likely be kicked out of his home for that. Of course his friends 
would take him in, but the shame would be too much for him to bear.
	He jerked once more at the chains that held him and was rewarded 
with a vicious hit to the ribs. He heard something crack and felt blood 
trickle out of his mouth. He didn’t care though for the man that held him 
had succeeded in getting his clothes off and was now fumbling with his 
own.
	He had a brief respite when the man got up, but it was soon ended 
for he had just been repositioning himself above the helpless elf. Legolas 
cried out in pain and dismay as he was entered roughly. He felt something 
rip inside him and blood pour down his thighs and legs.
	He felt as if he were being ripped in two and screamed in agony as 
the cruel man above him started thrusting in and out not caring what 
damage was dealt to the elf. He wished with all his heart that this torture 
would end. Nothing he had ever experienced had been as bad as this. All 
past tortures had paled in comparison.
	He felt the man come closer to his climax and finally explode 
inside him shooting his cum into Legolas’ already abused opening. 
Legolas awoke with a fierce scream of pain that woke every living thing 
within two miles of their camp.

****

	Aragorn woke with a start. He looked around their camp assessing 
to see if anything had happened. Legolas was curled up in a fetal position 
by the fire. He made his way quickly over to see what the matter was.
	As he got closer he could tell that Legolas was crying. He knelt 
down next to his friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 
Legolas, quite unexceptionally, threw himself into Aragorn’s arms and 
burst into loud sobs.
	Aragorn had never seen his friend cry. Legolas had always been 
controlled and cool in most of their meetings. Only a few times had he let 
his emotions show, and that had always been in times of great joy or 
scathing anger.
	This was a big change from the usual dispassionate shield the elf 
always had up. It didn’t matter now, his friend needed him and he’d be 
damned if he let him down once again in his time of need. It was bad 
enough that he had already let Legolas get captured, he wouldn’t let his 
friend suffer needlessly.
	He pulled Legolas closer and gently rocked him till his crying 
slowed and then stopped all together. Legolas gently pulled back and 
looked at Aragorn Apprehensively. Aragorn wondered what was the 
matter before he saw the look in his friend’s eyes that he was about to 
apologise.
	He shook his head and put a finger up to the elf’s lips. He winced 
slightly when he saw his friend flinch from the unexpected contact. He 
sighed and hugged Legolas to him offering what comfort he could.
	As he held Legolas close he thought back to the times before 
Legolas had been captured. Some of them had been happy, and some of 
them had been sad. He closed his eyes briefly calling a picture to mind of 
his friend before this had all happened. The elf had been so happy and 
joyful. He didn’t deserve what had happened. His friend deserved nothing 
but contentment and joy.
	So caught up in his thoughts and the task of protecting Legolas was 
he that he didn’t notice the strange smell drifting towards them. Nor did he 
notice the fact that he was unexceptionally getting tired. If he did he 
explained it away as being the result of to many interrupted and sleepless 
nights.
	Legolas was the same in not noticing these things. His normal 
elven hearing did not pick up the sounds of figures approaching in the 
night. He was too caught up in self-pity. It was bad enough that Aragorn 
had to know that he was having nightmares, but to uncontrollably cry on 
him too? It was just to shaming. If he hadn’t been in such a state of mind 
he would have noticed the strange smell and sounds. But he did not.
	Antatar smiled to himself as he stepped forward out of the dark. 
His plans were going perfectly. The human was sound asleep and so was 
his elf. He hoped the man suffered in hell. He snickered evilly as his men 
brought before him the bound and gagged, but otherwise peacefully 
sleeping elf. He couldn’t wait to give this one his punishment.

Part 7

	Aragorn woke up to a raging headache. He felt as if he had fallen 
off the highest tree in Lothlorien and had landed on his head. He tried to 
remember what had happened that would make him feel this way.
	Slowly, faded images came to him, a scream, Legolas, a smell. All 
of these went through his head in quick succession, too fast for him to 
comprehend. Try as he might, he couldn’t make sense of the broken 
images coming to him. His mind was too befuddled by whatever had 
given him the headache.
	There had been an odd smell just before he had drifted off. He had 
been too busy comforting Legolas to pay it any mind. Legolas! His mind 
screamed at him, how could he have forgotten Legolas? His eyes searched 
the camp for any sight of his elven friend.
	Fear ate at his insides  when he realised that he could not find the 
elf. He wished he could deny it, but his instincts told him that Legolas had 
been captured. Again. He had failed him twice now. The guilt was almost 
too much to bear. He swiftly pulled himself up, ignoring the pain that shot 
through his system from his head.
	He figured that someone must of tied some type of drug to branch 
and set fire to it, so that it would put them into a deep sleep and confuse 
their senses when they woke up. If only he had paid attention to his 
surroundings instead of musing about how beautiful his friend looked in 
the moonlight, even if he was crying, he might have been able to stop this. 
He had been lost in the smell of him and how good he felt in his arms, like 
he was meant to be there.
	He would have to banish all such thoughts from his mind if he 
hoped to rescue his friend anytime soon. He quickly packed up all the 
supplies that could be salvaged, Antatar had stolen or destroyed most of it, 
and made his way towards Mordor. For that was where the tracks led him.
	Aragorn travelled non-stop to try to reach Legolas. It seemed to be 
of no avail for he never seemed any closer then the day before. He only 
stopped when it was absolutely necessary for he didn’t want to lose any 
time in finding his friend. 
	As much as he wanted to find Legolas again he knew that he 
couldn’t keep up this speed for long. His supplies were almost all gone 
and his mount was almost too tired to go on. 
	He became confused as to where the tracks were leading. At first 
they had been leading him towards Mordor, but they had turned almost 
completely around and were now heading to an area around Gondor. 
Whoever had captured Legolas was either trying to confuse him or he had 
changed his mind about where he wanted to go. It didn’t matter to Aragorn 
though, at the moment all that mattered was getting Legolas back. He 
would die before he let anything else happen to his beautiful friend. He 
swore that he would find Legolas and kill whoever had captured him.
	Without warning his horse reined in suddenly. Aragorn swivelled 
his head around to see what had spooked it. Riders dressed in all black 
were surrounding him. He drew his sword, waiting for them to make the 
first move.
	He didn’t have to wait long, for the one he assumed to be the 
leader chose that moment to confront him. He spoke in an odd dialect that 
Aragorn didn’t understand. It sounded like the slave language, which he 
had a limited understanding.
	“I do not speak your language,” he stated. This seemed to spark 
conversation in the ranks but the leader waved his hand irritably and they 
quieted down. The man stepped forward dropping his hood as he went.
	He had dark brown hair and eyes. His hair was pulled back into a 
loose ponytail and seemed as if it hadn’t been cleaned for awhile. His face 
was heavily scarred almost like Legolas’ had been except that his looked 
less cared for.
	“ My name is Traurig. Seeing you do not know that language I take 
it you are not a slave trader.” Taking Aragorn’s growl as affirmation he 
continued. “I am sorry if we offended you by this display. It’s just that we 
must be wary for many who come through this area are up to no good.”
	“I understand you position. I would be suspicious of me too.” This 
drew a chuckle out of the surrounding people standing there, and a small 
smile from the man in front of him. In order to get all of the help he could, 
he decided to ask of his friend.
	“I am looking for a friend who has been captured by a man whom I 
believe goes by the name of Antatar.”
	“Speak no more!” The man exclaimed, "It is not safe to speak of 
such things here. There are watchers about. Come to my house for the 
night and we will talk there.”
	Aragorn nodded his head and allowed himself to be lead towards 
the small village. The houses were small and slightly rundown but they 
were homey and had pretty little gardens in the front. They were made 
mostly out of mud and straw but seemed stable enough.
	He followed Traurig inside and into a small room, which he 
assumed, was the main living area. It was a sparse room but was made up 
with loving care. A worn, but still soft, rug adorned the floor and some 
faded but pretty wall hangings adorned the walls.
	A small girl could be seen hiding behind who he assumed was her 
mother. He smiled down at he girl and she tentatively smiled back. The 
mother had the look of somebody who had gone through many things and 
had come out better for it. She gave Traurig an almost bemused look, as if 
to say, what did you drag in this time.
	Traurig motioned for him to sit down and he gladly did. It was a 
comfy chair, if a little lumpy. He could tell that while these people had hit 
hard times they had still done their best to make their homes as nice as 
possible.
	“Dinner will be ready soon, after that we can discuss a few things 
and then you can get some rest.”
	Aragorn nodded and muttered his thanks. This man seemed 
trustworthy enough and he would take any help he could get. Dinner was 
not long in coming and soon he found himself sitting across from the little 
girl he had seen earlier.
	Dinner was a quiet affair, for no one seemed to want to start up a 
conversation. The food was delicious if a little plain, but it was still better 
then half-cooked rations in the wilderness. During the whole time he 
racked his brain for something to say to enigmatic man and seemingly 
harsh lady at the table with him.
	They were speaking in low tones with each other about the day’s 
work and didn’t seem to want any interruptions. Aragorn instead turned 
his attentions to the young girl across from him.
	She looked to be about eleven or twelve and had a shy demeanour 
about her. He smiled a he warmly and searched for something to say. He 
didn’t get the chance for Traurig chose that moment to finish his dinner 
and politely ask if Aragorn was ready to retire to the living area to talk.	
           Traurig didn’t waste any time with niceties and took only the time 
to offer Aragorn a chair before he started asking questions.
            “What’s your name, where are you from, and what are you doing 
here?”
            Aragorn blinked a few times, taken back by the 
straightforwardness. He took a deep breath and prepared to answer as 
carefully as possible. It wouldn’t help for him to give out to much 
information and then find out it had been a trap. It didn’t seem like one but 
h still needed to be careful.
            “My name is Lefantar, I come from Gondor, and I’m here looking 
for a friend.”
            Traurig gave him an odd look, as if he were trying to get the truth 
of what Aragorn was saying by his features. The other man gave a nod as 
if stating his approval and asked for Aragorn to explain more fully about 
his captured friend.
             Aragorn gave an abbreviated version of events, still not fully 
trusting the man before him. Traurig gasped when Aragorn said Legolas’ 
slave name. He jumped up and started pacing, looking extremely worried.
                “This news is worse then I thought it would be. Kleine and I 
were good friends; he was brought a few weeks after I was and always 
tried to help the other slaves when he could. Many times he took beatings 
for us and gave food to those who needed it more and even to those who 
didn’t. He helped some of us escape including me and many who now live 
here.”
                Aragorn nodded his head slowly. It made sense to him that 
Legolas would do his best to help people if he himself could not be 
helped. He hoped that because this man was a friend of Legolas’ that he’d 
help him. All he wanted to do was get his friend back. Legolas didn’t 
deserve what had happened to him.
                  Traurig seemingly reading his mind started talking about how 
they would go about rescuing Legolas. With little reluctance Aragorn was 
persuaded to let him come. He didn’t want anything o slow him down but 
the other man knew the land better and would probably be more of a help 
than a hindrance.
                 After a few more hours of talk Aragorn finally allowed himself 
to be led to bed. He dropped onto the small mattress and soon fell asleep. 
He dreamt many things, most revolved around a happy future with himself 
and Legolas, every once and awhile including another one of the 
fellowship. He smiled in his sleep and curled up on the unfamiliar bed, 
awaiting tomorrow. 

Part 8

	Legolas awakened in a dark dank stone room with no windows. 
His head felt to be on fire and each movement made his body ache in ways 
he didn’t know it could. He could just barely see a thick wooden door 
across the way, but other than that he could make nothing out about his 
cold prison.
	There was no doubt in his mind that Antatar was behind this. Who 
else would put so much effort into kidnapping him? There was also the 
fact that Antatar had already tried capturing him a few days before. Had it 
only been a few days? It could have been weeks for all Legolas knew.
	He could only remember short snippets of memory. He realised he 
must of been drugged the whole way to wherever he had been taken. 
Whatever drug had been used must have been the type that befuddled the 
mind as well as the body. Many had been used on him but he could not 
remember one that had effected him like this.
	He wondered what had happened to Aragorn. It would be just like 
Antatar to use one of his friends against him. Unless of course Antatar 
didn’t know that Aragorn was his friend. He may have thought that he had 
got an overprotective master. Hopefully that was what the evil one 
thought. He couldn’t bear to have Aragorn brought here to be tortured 
because of him. He would do anything to prevent that from happening.
	With a heavy heart he stood to check out his prison. Knowing 
Antatar, there would be nothing to really check out, but Legolas needed 
something to do or else he would most likely go crazy thinking about all 
the things Antatar could of done to his friend.
	Antatar had stuck him in a typical cell. The room was square 
shaped and roughly five by five paces. A straw pallet was stuck in the 
corner where he had awakened. He had been wrong about there being no 
windows. A very small one was about three feet above his head. It had 
thick iron bars across it so even if he had been small enough to fit through, 
he wouldn’t have been able to.
	A few hours had gone by from his calculations when the cell door 
was opened. Antatar stood there smiling evilly down at Legolas, who had 
been sitting on the pallet. The evil one approached slowly, knowing from 
experience that a Legolas freed of restraints was a dangerous Legolas.
	He got half way across the small room before Legolas struck. 
Grabbing dirt from the floor he flung it into Antatar’s face and kicked out 
with his foot. He leapt for the door and was out of the cramped cell in a 
matter of seconds. So fast in fact that he ran into the guard before he even 
saw him.
	Quickly recovering himself he jabbed the soldier in the stomach 
with his elbow, effectively knocking the breath out of him. Grappling for 
the sword hanging at the side of the sentry man, he kicked out with his 
foot, hitting the right kneecap and unbalancing the man.
	Succeeding in apprehending the sword he stabbed the man through 
the chest in a quick expert thrust. The next man was overcome quickly 
without any effort. A swift spin and his head was on the ground next to his 
dead body. Legolas neither noticed nor care about the blood that got on his 
clothes and on his hair. All he cared about was getting out of whatever 
hellhole Antatar had stuck him in this time.
	Racing towards the stairs he soon ran into reinforcements on their 
way to stop him. The first man was a strong swordsman. Legolas wasted 
many precious seconds overcoming him. The second man was easily dealt 
with; Legolas swung his sword down in an arc gutting the man before him. 
His intestines spilled out onto the cold stone floor. The pungent smell of 
blood and death mixed with that of sex and vomit.
	Without a second glance Legolas ran forward, hoping to make it up 
the stairs before Antatar caught him. He took the steps three at a time and 
had almost reached the top when a blow to the head sent him sprawling 
down a few steps. The last thing he saw before he passed out completely 
was Antatar smiling evilly down at him.
	
	****

	He woke up naked, chained to a bed. Antatar’s bed. It wasn’t the 
same one he had had the last time, but Legolas would always know that 
bed, that smell. It was the same smell that always clung to Antatar, the 
smell that in Legolas’ opinion marked him as evil.
	His body ached all over, even more so than when he had first 
woken up. He doubted that Antatar had been all too careful when bringing 
him here and chaining him up. Antatar didn’t like escape attempts.
	Even though he knew it was useless Legolas still tried vainly to get 
free of his bonds. The cold silver chains chafed his skin, bringing back 
unpleasant memories of past encounters. Knowing Antatar he wouldn’t be 
alone for long and took the time he had to examine his surroundings.
	He was in a fairly large room with extravagant furnishings. Many 
imported rugs of the finest cloths graced the floor in many colors and 
designs graced the floor. Large windows let the eastern sun flood the room 
and were covered by now pulled back curtains of crushed velvet. A marble 
fireplace was directly across from the bed he was currently tied to. A few 
plush chairs were positioned around so to best catch the heat and light of a 
lit fire. The bed he was on was a high four poster affair with rich canopies 
and sheets of the finest silk. All in all, it was a typical room that Antatar 
would live in.
	While he was inspecting his new surroundings he noticed a dagger 
lying on an in table previously overlooked. It was more for the use of an 
ornament than anything, but still, it would work if he was desperate and 
most likely, when it came to fighting Antatar, he would be.
	Unnoticed, as at the time he had been shrewdly calculating his 
escape, the source of all this trouble had entered the room. Antatar, as 
always, was as silent as any elf. He slunk slowly into the room, watching 
Legolas as a cat would watch a mouse. He noticed where Legolas’ gaze 
was now resting and smiled a feral smile.
	On silent feet he drew near the bed, waiting for the unexpecting 
one to notice him. It didn’t take long, for as silent and graceful Antatar’s 
steps were, Legolas’ hearing was adept at noticing them.
	Legolas’ head jerked towards the noise and he took a defensive 
position as best he could while tied to the bed. Antatar laughed a low evil 
laugh as he and reached forward to caress his face. Legolas stiffened but 
could do nothing in the position he was in.
	 He shivered at the odd sensation of having somebody run claw 
like nails up and down his cheek. Antatar seemed unwilling to do anything 
more then that and continued his exploration of Legolas’ flawless skin.
	Legolas closed his eyes and concentrated on happier times, talking 
with Aragorn, playing with the hobbits, walking with Aragorn, bantering 
with Gimli, swimming with Aragorn, talking to his father, playing chess 
with Aragorn... Antatar slipping something cool and metallic around his 
neck interrupted his thoughts. It was a choke chain.
	His arms were unchained and Antatar pulled him into a sitting 
position. This was the chance that he needed. It would likely come of 
naught and probably gain him a beating but he wouldn’t just not try. That 
would be giving up, and he would never give up. Not anymore.
	He lashed out with his foot successfully knocking the air out of his 
captor. It was a useless effort seeing that he was still chained to the 
bedposts. It only succeeded in angering Antatar who struck out with a 
whip that had just appeared in his hands. Legolas, off centred and 
unprepared for the blow gasped and fell back onto the bed.
	This welcomed a stream of angry blows to fall upon his 
unprotected skin. He rolled into a ball to protect the softer and more 
vulnerable places on his body. Each blow was punctuated by one of 
Antatar’s words.
	“You will obey me. You are mine and you always will be. Your 
friends will never get you back and if they do I will just capture you again. 
You are mine. Meine Kleine Taube.”
	Legolas jerked forward catching the whip as it hungrily arced 
toward him. He glared up at his would-be master with fire in his eyes, and 
said in a low dangerous growl:
	“Do not be so cocky Antatar. You shan't control me, Aragorn will 
come. You can do what you want with my body but you will never break 
me. Not again. Never again.”
	This just infuriated Antatar further and with new zeal he yanked 
the whip out of Legolas’ hands and continued to beat his helpless captive.

****

	Aragorn woke with a start his hand instantly going for his sword. It 
was halfway out of its sheath before he noticed that nobody was attacking 
him. Instead there was a frightened little girl huddled in the corner. He 
sighed and lay back down. Valar that had scared him. The memories of the 
past week came flooding through his mind.
	He groaned forgetting about the girl and rolled over trying to 
convince himself that this was just a bad dream. He was still just a simple 
ranger named Strider and Legolas had never been kidnapped or anything. 
It was almost working when Traurig chose that moment to rush in and see 
why his child had screamed.
	He scowled at Aragorn and forcefully dragged him out of bed 
muttering the whole time about being scared out of his life and how they 
had to get going or Antatar would do bad things to Legolas. That got 
Aragorn up and out of bed.
	They had pancakes made of a wheaty flower spread with honey to 
break their fast. It was washed down with fresh goats’ milk and a sweet 
tasting juice he had never encountered before. 
	Traurig had awoken him a hour before dawn and they were on 
their way just after the first light of day spread from the east. They left 
with only themselves as company, the other men had wanted to come, but 
it was deemed that two would be less conspicuous than the whole village. 
Besides, somebody had to guard the children and those who needed 
protection. So the rest stayed, albeit a little reluctantly.
	They travelled sparsely as to not tire their horses too soon. They 
carried only the essentials, some food, a bedroll, weapons, and a set of 
spare clothes. Aragorn had been outfitted in new clothes to better fit the 
mission they were on. They were made up of homespun cloth that was not 
overly unpleasant and they fit surprisingly well.
	His outfit was made up of a light green tunic with a white shirt 
underneath and brown leggings with soft boots to wear. Traurig wore an 
outfit of many similar designs except his leggings were of a darker color 
and his tunic had an almost grey undertone to it.
	They had been on the road for three days when they came to city. 
It was rather large as cities in this area went but was considerably smaller 
than Minas Tirith. Traurig seemed both happy and apprehensive to see the 
city. He must have caught Aragorn’s expectant look for he smiled at him 
comfortingly and was about to turn in his saddle, offer words of 
explanation Aragorn guessed, when five men on tired looking mounts 
came up the road to meet them.
	The group were ruffians and probably took robbery as a part time 
job if it wasn’t their full time one.
	“Rüpel,” Traurig acknowledged the man in the middle who was 
obviously the bands leader.
	“Ah, Traurig, what is you business in these parts and who is your 
friend?”
	“My business is just that Rüpel my business. And my friend is a 
cousin from South Gondor.” He said nodding towards Aragorn who gave 
the man the customary smile and nod in greeting.
	After greeting him they seemed to forget he was there and started 
rapidly speaking in a language he didn’t understand. He caught Legolas’ 
slave name a few times so he guessed Traurig was inquiring about him.
	They seemed to come to an agreement and Traurig motioned for 
him to follow them. He hastily explained on the way these people had seen 
Legolas and where he had been taken. They would bring them to the 
abandoned castle and help them get in. For a small price of course.
	Walking through the city was disconcerting for Aragorn. In all the 
market places there was at least one slave auction going on, sometimes 
more. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth but one look from Traurig 
reminded him that getting killed by slaveholders wouldn’t help Legolas. 
He turned his head away from the auctions and instead studied the other 
wares on sale.
	It took them approximately two hours to get to the castle. It wasn’t 
really a castle Aragorn saw, more like an overly large stone mansion. He 
guessed people here wouldn’t really know the difference though. For the 
most part they looked like they had never left the city in their lives.
	They snuck around back seeing guards watching the front entrance. 
They found what he assumed to be the old kitchen door and after 
dispatching one sluggish guard, crept in. The men had a hasty meeting 
with Traurig and went back out the door.
	Traurig motioned for him to follow and soon they were running 
through dank old back passageways towards, he assumed, Legolas. It took 
them few minutes before they got to where they were going. Well, where 
they hoped to be going. Surprisingly they had met no guards on the way 
and there seemed to be nothing hindering them from barging into the 
ornate door of what they supposed was Antatar’s room.
	Grabbing their swords out of the sheaths and on the count of three 
they both threw their weight at the door. They needn’t have done that. The 
door wasn’t locked and under their combined weight it swung open 
spilling them onto the floor. They looked up just in time to see Antatar 
pull a bruised and bloody Legolas into a rough and brutal kiss.


	Btw, useless but funny info. In the copy of Guide To MiddleEarth 
my friend has, it says in Elladan’s bio that he is the son of Elrond and 
Celeborn instead of Elrond and Celebrian. We got a good laugh out of 
that. Elrohir’s on the other hand is correct and says Celebrian. But it 
makes you think, what if it wasn’t just a typo?=^.^=

Part 9

	Aragorn screamed in rage as he saw the evil one kissing his elf. 
Untangling himself from Traurig he leapt up and grabbed his sword with 
only one though on his mind. Killing the one who would dare kidnap and 
torture Legolas.
	Antatar was more than ready to fight for what he deemed his. He 
had spent too much time and effort into capturing his little dove to let 
some upstart human steal him away. He would not let all the years spent 
planning and gathering power be for nothing. Legolas would be his and 
anyone who had the audacity to challenge him on the subject would die 
horrible and terrible deaths. This man would be the first one. He would 
scream and beg until his throat was hoarse and still Antatar wouldn’t stop. 
Nobody crossed him and lived. For very long that is.
	Leaving Legolas chained and miserable he snatched up the first 
weapon that came to hand. His whip. Throwing it over his shoulder he 
readied it to hit the insolent human running at him. At the last moment he 
tugged on it to snatch the sword out of the humans hands. It didn’t move. 
Yanking on it once again, but fearing it was to late; he rolled to his right 
just barely missing a sword thrust through his heart. As it was he got 
stabbed through the arm. He winced as blood streamed from the wound, 
painting his expensive carpets crimson. That man would pay. Nobody 
drew his blood and lived. 
	His cold eyes whipped back and forth looking for a way to get out 
of this mess. Ah, there was the solution to his problem. It was ornate 
dagger Legolas had been eyeing. Now how to get it with out the man 
knowing his intentions.
	He moved slowly in the direction of his salvation, the man pivoting 
to watch. Antatar knew that he only had one chance, if he screwed this up 
he was doomed to whatever death Legolas and this man had in store for 
him. Likely it would not be a pleasant death.
	He was almost in the correct spot. Just a little bit further and he 
could make a grab for it. Slowly, watching the man who would dare try to 
steal his Legolas, he got into alignment with the dagger. He would have to 
be fast, faster than he ever had been before. Patience had always been his 
best virtue, and he would need his patience now so as to not blotch this up.
	Almost faster than the eye could follow Antatar made his move. 
Perfect as always he snatched up the dagger and prepared to lunge. There 
was just one problem, his foot wouldn’t move. Someone had latched onto 
his ankle. That someone was Traurig. The forgotten ex slave had chosen 
that moment to remind everybody of his presence. By yanking the cause 
of all their problems to the richly ornamented floor.
	Antatar cursed wildly at himself for forgetting that the other man 
was here. Kicking, he wiggled out of the grasp that held his foot and 
looked around for a way to escape the sword of the vengeful man above 
him.
	Kicking his feet in a movement meant half to gain momentum and 
half to distract he rolled toward the doorway, still wondering how these 
men had managed to so easily outwit him. As he rolled he ran into 
something he had forgotten about in his haste to get away. It was a tassel 
hanging from one of the tapestries on his wall. It also doubled as a bell 
pull to summon his guards.
	Smiling evilly, thinking he had finally won, Antatar yanked 
sharply at the tassel, his panic ebbing as the sharp peals of the bell 
resounded through his newly acquired fort. His guards would be here 
soon. Now he just had to survive until then.
	It wouldn’t be too hard, Antatar mused. In his haste to escape his 
death he had forgotten a most important fact. A thing he had used many 
times to fend off difficult enemies many times. It would again take 
patience and the hope that these men would fail to arrogance as most men 
did.
	“ Hear me man, I have a proposition for you.”
	“And what would that be evil one? I do not wish to tarry here any 
longer than need be.”
	A slow smirk crept across Antatar’s features and quickly 
disappeared lest he alert the man to his intentions. This would be too easy. 
Long years and many battles such as this had taught Antatar a few things. 
Two of these were that he could almost always rely on the pride and 
arrogance of men. And if he could not? Well that didn’t matter, it was 
always a good way to stall in a pinch.
	“ I challenge you to a fight. If you win you can have your precious 
whore...” Antatar chuckled sadistically at the rage displayed upon the 
man’s face and equally at the shame upon the elf’s. “ No that if you back 
down I can simply have my guards cut you down and then you will have 
no choice in the matter.”
	 “If this is so then why do you offer us this chance. Surely you 
would prefer to outnumber us and be positive of a victory? I trust you not, 
nor do I trust this plan of yours. Aragorn listen to me before you make any 
decisions, it is not Antatar’s way to do such things. I am sure he has an 
alternative motive else he would never offer this to us. I believe he does 
not have as much men to that would rally to him as he would have us 
think.”
	“Aye, I do believe you are right Traurig. I do not trust him either.” 
Turning to face Antatar more directly he gave his answer. “I have listened 
well to my friend’s advice and while I admit my first instinct was to agree 
I now see the wisdom in his words. I will no sooner fight a dual with you 
than I would kill my father.”
	Antatar growled in rage he had been so sure the man would give 
in. He was too honourable for his own good. It was of no consequence 
now though, his guards were here and while he couldn’t beat them he 
would at least be able to get away.
	As long as he got away he would make sure the elf become his. No 
matter what happened, he would succeed. He did have eternity after all. 
One battle lost now may mean a war won later. You just wait my dove, I’ll 
get you yet, and your little human too.

Part 10

      Legolas frantically worked at the locks of the chains. He wouldn’t 
let his friends fight alone. Antatar wouldn’t have too many guards here but 
they still might need help. Knowing Antatar, even if he had very few 
guards he himself would put up one hell of a fight. Most likely he would 
want us to forget about him and focus on the guards. Well that’s the 
opposite of what I’m going to do.
	He quieted his movements hoping Antatar would forget about him. 
He might even be able to surprise him if he was lucky. So great was his 
attention on watching the battle and Antatar, he almost didn’t notice when 
he had got free. If the chains hadn’t fallen off the bed he would have kept 
working at the locks and might have locked himself back up. Looking 
almost embarrassed he fell to the floor and hobbled around the bed to get 
out of Antatar’s range of sight, still dragging his chains with him. 
	His eyes darted around as he took in the positions of various 
people. Traurig was fighting with a mean looking man about twice his 
size. He would be victorious. Traurig was almost as fast as he was when it 
came to dodging blows and delivering them. The man wouldn’t stand a 
chance he already seemed to be tiring.
	Aragorn on the other hand seemed to be in trouble. He was 
fighting three men roughly about the same size as he. All were 
incompetent fighters and under normal circumstances wouldn’t stand a 
chance. But ganging up on him, it wouldn’t be long till Aragorn made a 
mistake and was felled. He needed help. Legolas would be that help.
	Stumbling out of his current crouching position he snuck up on the 
slowest one, albeit a little more loudly than usually. Wrapping the chain 
around one hand, and balancing against the bed with the other, he gave the 
guard a quick blow to the head, just as Aragorn felled the second one and 
moved to kill the third.
	Satisfied that Aragorn could handle his opponent he searched the 
room for more victims. He smiled and made his way to the man trying to 
sneak up on is friend. Slinking cat-like past the guards protecting their 
master, he mad to kill the man but was stopped by a hand gripping his 
wrist.
	He twisted sharply hoping to throw his attacker off him but 
whoever it was followed his movements and if anything trapped him more 
thoroughly. He shoved backward and kicked out with his foot connecting 
solidly with a piece of wood.
	Gasping and cursing himself for his bad aim, he continued his 
struggles striking out with the end of the chains. His assailant had grabbed 
him from behind and Legolas struggled to regain at least a small amount 
of command over the situation. Gritting his teeth against the pain his 
actions would bring him he gathered all his strength and kicked 
backwards, in an amazing feat of agility for one so injured, and slammed 
his foot into his attackers head, felling him with one blow.
	Falling to the soft carpets below him he tried to convince himself 
to stand and fight. It was just too easy to stay there and sleep. He had been 
through so much, fought so hard, why would it matter if he just let 
everything progress the way it would. Why was it so important for him to 
fight? Why couldn’t he just give up and die?
	No, he would not give in. That’s what Antatar wanted him to do 
and he would never give into the one whom had haunted him for so long. 
Standing, he searched the room again. Traurig had dispatched his current 
enemy and was turning to face a new one.
	A reflection of light caught Legolas’ eye. Yelling a warning to his 
friend he struggled forward wanting to help his friend. But he was too late. 
Antatar raised his sword and plunged it into Traurig's back. 
	With a blood curdling yell Legolas sped forward, somehow going 
faster then before, and fell to his friend’s side. Memories of the past flew 
through his head. Of them playing tricks on the guards, of them finding 
ways to inconvenience and annoy their masters. Memories of sad times 
and memories of happy ones, few and less between but still wonderful all 
the same. 
	Knowing it was too late but still wanting to do something, he 
grasped the sword and pulled it out. Ripping his already mutilated shirt 
into pieces he bandaged the wound as best he could. A low moan caught 
his attention. He turned his friend over and saw he was alive, albeit just 
barely.
	“ Do not worry for me Legolas,” Traurig gasped out, “It’s already 
too late for me. Save yourself, get out of here. Hurry, before Antatar gets 
you.”
	“ No Traurig, I won’t leave you. Not while you’re still alive, not 
while he’s still alive. You’re going to live. You have to live. Please don’t 
leave me.”
	Half in shame and half in wonder Legolas realised that silvery 
tears were streaming down his face. He had only cried once before and 
that was the one time with Aragorn. He knew tears were a sign of grief 
and wondered at how he could have come to love his friend so much in so 
short a time.
	“Don’t cry,” the words his friend spoke and the hand that followed 
brought him out of his self-pity. “You’ll be okay, you’ll see. Aragorn will 
take care of you. Don’t worry about me, I’ll finally be at peace.”
	“ I know, but still, that doesn’t help this any. We’ve been through a 
lot together. I don’t want you to die.”
	His friend was too weak to do anything but smile at him as he slid 
into the arms of death. Gently kissing Traurig’s forehead he said goodbye 
to his deceased friend.
	Again a glint of light drew his attention. He sighed as Antatar’s 
sword came down towards him, knowing it was too late to do anything 
about it. Smiling softly and with only a hint of regret that he didn’t get to 
see his friends once more, Legolas prepared to die.

The End