Title: Mael-Gûl – Chapter VI a – Through Eregion (Past and
Present) - Part I

   Author: Aislynn Crowdaughter

   Author's Email: Aislynn.Crowdaughter@gmx.net

   Pairings: Aragorn/Legolas (mainly), Boromir/Legolas ,
Gimli/Legolas, Others/Legolas. 

   Rating: NC (M) –strictly adults only.

   Summary: AU. Legolas slave fic. Mirkwood is a subjected realm
and must give hostages to the other Elven realms as slaves. Legolas
is the slave of Aragorn, who is a sadist. And to keep Legolas loyal
to the Ranger, he is bound by a cruel spell: the *Mael-Gûl*... This
story was inspired by BlueGolds story “Bound” which can be found
here:
http://www.libraryofmoria.com/legolasaragorn/boundbybluegold.txt
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.
   *Warnings*: Slash, m/m, BDSM, *torture*, toys, d/s, hard stuff,
*Non-con sexual situations* and *debatable consent*.  Drug Abuse
(in Flashbacks only). *Very* graphic descriptions, both physical
and mental; abuse both physical and sexual.  

   SPECIAL WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: *explicit torture*, severe
abuse, *explicit gang rape*, and *mutilation* (in Flashbacks only).
I mean it! This chapter has very strong stuff, so please don't read
if you don't like!  Also there will be Flashbacks including sexual
situations with adolescents. I am going back into the history of
Estel and Legolas at some point, and I feel that Estel's first
fumbling explorations of sexuality may have started as early as
seventeen, and probably  included a certain Elf. But there will be
no sexual abuse of minors. The gang-rape and mutilation scenes
happen in the first flashback of Part I “Past and Present I:
Enslaved”, another explicit gang rape scene happens in the
flashback scene of  Part VI, “Past and Present IV: Master and
Slave”.  Please heed the warnings!

   Disclaimer: Not mine. LOTR was created by J.R.R. Tolkien, who
owns the characters, safe a few original characters in side roles.
Peter Jackson owns the Movies. I just borrow from them without
permission.  The setting of the story is inspired by a plot bunny
of Cheysuli and the story “Bound” by BlueGold, as mentioned in the
summary and author's note. The idea of the *Mael-Gûl*, or *Rhach e-
Maelangwedh* (Lust-Spell, Curse of Lustchain) however is entirely
mine. 

   Feedback: Yes please! Send to Aislynn.Crowdaughter@gmx.net This
is my first LOTR fic, and I am no native speaker. Any comments
welcome, including about grammar! 
...*Betareader*: Surreysmum. All remaining errors are my own. Thank
you! 
   *Additional Author's Note*: This story is based on the
Movieverse with some book elements. *However*, this is *AU*.
Utterly and completely. I apologize to all Tolkien purists. I know
the Master himself would rotate in his grave if ever he was
confronted with anything like this. I know, Galadriel, Elrond,
Thranduil and their Elves are not this way,  and Aragorn is
neither. But I simply had to write this, so please don’t read if
you don’t like. You have been warned!

Additionally, I wish to announce that in this chapter, I am
operating *extensively* with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide: //
/flashback/ //; ************Time change within a
flashback***********;  “speech”; 'thoughts'

   *Languages*: I am no great expert in Sindarin and have no clue
to its grammar, therefore I will just use a few words of this
language in this fic. So whenever Aragorn is speaking with Elves,
consider the conversation is taking place in Sindarin, except if
explicitly differently mentioned. At the council or among the
Fellowship, he and everybody else is talking in Common Speech or
Westron, except if differently mentioned. 

For all other notes and warnings see Prologue and Chapter One.


________________________


CHAPTER VI a 	Through Eregion (Past and Present)– Part I (1)


PART I – Past and Present I: Enslaved


It took quite some timing and much patience, but finally Aragorn
found the opportunity to speak with Boromir again out of earshot of
his elf. 

He waited until one of the Hobbits mentioned the setting sun and
raised the question when   they would make camp, and promptly
Legolas offered to scout ahead again to find them a good place to
stay for the night. When the Elf was gone, Aragorn confronted the
Gondorian about his demand. In the end, Boromir at least agreed to
give Legolas another day to recover from the ritual before he had
to share himself again.

Uncomfortable, but at least a little reassured, Aragorn waited for
his Elf's return. The sun was close to setting when he did. Legolas
had found them a inviting little grove near  another brook, and
moreover a little downstream the brook had filled a nice little
pool with shallow water that was still deep enough to bathe. Thick
copse covered the surroundings of the pool and the grove, promising
privacy for anyone who would care to take a bath. In addition,
there were  at least a few trees in the grove  big enough for an
Elf to sleep in, and Aragorn suspected that this, more than
anything else, had determined the Elf's choice. In any case, the
place was perfect and the Hobbits started to make camp immediately. 

Legolas received much praise for his find both from them and from
Gandalf, and an approving nod from his master. Still, the Elf was
tense and silent, and it was with much apprehension that he finally
found himself approached by Aragorn.

“Legolas,” his master said, “come with me. I think we both can use
a bath, and I still have to wash my blanket.”

Legolas swallowed hard. He had known he would probably have to pay
for his attack on the Dwarf this afternoon sooner or later. Still,
he feared what Aragorn would do to him. Silently and without
another word, he bowed to his master, took his soap and followed
Aragorn to the pool.

When they were there, Legolas undressed and neatly set his clothes
to the side. He was a bit astonished when Aragorn ordered him to
help him undress as well, and then commanded his help in washing
the soiled blanket. Afterwards, Aragorn asked him to get into the
pool with him, took the soap and covered first his slave, then
himself in foam. During the entire time, he said not one harsh
word. In fact he scarcely said anything at all.

Legolas was puzzled. Finally he could not stand the tension any
longer.

“My Lord,” he carefully began, “about today...”

Aragorn closed his eyes. He sighed.

“Shh,” he said, “it is all right. I told you already that I would
not punish you. In fact, if I recall correctly, I promised.”

He opened his eyes again and met Legolas' gaze. His slave stared at
him astonished and in wonder. 

“You are not angry?” Legolas asked hesitantly.

Aragorn returned his gaze. He raised his brow.

“I am,” he said, “but mostly at myself. I should have seen this
coming, and taken precautions. Besides, you only defended your
people. And I gave you permission to retaliate if the Dwarf
attacked you. How could I reprimand you for doing what I gave you
leave to do myself?” 

He sighed again, then shook his head. “No, Little Leaf, I will not
punish you for this. Nor will I revoke my permission to defend
yourself. Just remember that you cannot afford to kill any member
of the Fellowship, for whatever reason save protecting the Ring-
Bearer, or me. If it should come to that, leave it to me. The cost
of your doing that would be too high, and we could never keep it
secret. I could not protect you.”

Legolas looked at him, wide eyed and disbelieving. Nearly
soundlessly, he mouthed: “Estel...”

Aragorn cocked his head at him. “I told you I would not allow the
Dwarf to hurt you,” he simply said.

“You... you did,” Legolas agreed, still somewhat incredulous. Then
suddenly he dropped to his knees, uncaring that his body was now
submerged waist-deep in the water. 

“Thank you!” he said, overwhelmed, *“Thank you, Estel!”*

Aragorn took a deep breath and dropped to his knees himself.
Carefully, he enfolded the trembling Elf within his arms. Carefully
and tenderly, he began to pet him, then he scooped up water with a
hand and began to wash the lithe body. Finally he proceeded to the
head and took care to wet the golden tresses, then to loosen the
braids. 

Legolas sighed and closed his eyes, savouring the gentle
ministrations of his master. He had no idea what had brought
Estel's sudden tenderness about, but he was willing to relish every
single moment of it as long as it would last. 

When Estel started on his warrior braids, he made a half-hearted
attempt to unbraid them himself, but found his hands gently, but
firmly pushed away. “*Shh*, Little Leaf,” his master said, ”let me
do this! You may assist me with washing my own hair, later.”

Obediently, Legolas dropped his hands and let himself be tended as
passively as his master wanted. 

Aragorn applied the soap tenderly and thoroughly, taking care to
soak the hair and massage the soap into it. He stole a kiss or two
between his ministrations and licked and nibbled a bit at one wet
ear, but he did not go further into foreplay. This was for
Legolas' comfort, not for his own satiation; and he suspected that
after last night the Elf would prefer  simple tenderness and
cuddling  to carnal pleasures. Briefly he felt the urge to  make
Legolas squirm in unwanted pleasure, force him to his peak and
drink his essence, then make him beg for more; but he shoved it
away. *This* was *not* what the moment called for. So he kept the
teasing down and attended to his slave as reverently as if their
roles had been reversed. 

When he finally rinsed the soap away, he said: “You know,  I spoke
with Boromir today. He agreed to give you some more time to
recover. So, tonight you may rest. Tomorrow we will start to honor
the bargain.”

Legolas stiffened and his eyes flew open. He had nearly drifted off
into reverie, when Aragorn's words ripped him out of his
comfortable drowsiness. Startled, he looked at his master in
disbelief, tensing up as he saw Aragorn's expression. His master's
face was unrelenting, although it held no anger.

Legolas looked at him another moment, then he bowed his head at
him, but not before Aragorn had seen the hope die in his eyes. His
master held him gently and kissed his brow.


“Hush!” he said, “Don't fear! Our dear Master Dwarf is out of the
game after today. You will not have to worry about him.”

Legolas looked up. Carefully he asked: “...Boromir?” 

Aragorn placed another kiss on his brow and sighed. He stroked the
back of his miserable Elf and shook his head.

“Boromir insisted,” he said, “and I agreed. Don't fear,
*melethron*! I will not allow him to hurt you.”

He stroked over the golden head and sighed. “I know you cannot see
it right now, but it is for your own good. You will be safer this
way. *I will not have you die because of me*!” The last words were
spoken fiercely, and there was an odd note in his voice, partly
determination, partly defiance.  

Legolas dared to meet his gaze again. He saw Aragorn's eyes awash
with a haunted expression. For a moment he was tempted to ask what
dark vision had been tormenting his master. He knew Aragorn had the
gift – or curse – of foresight, albeit diluted by his human blood
and not as strong as it ran in Elrond or Galadriel. But right now,
he did not find it in himself to care. Aragorn would insist on
sending him to the other Adan's bedding. He could not bring himself
to think beyond that.

Carefully he dared to say: *“Estel...”* He stopped himself,
swallowed and lowered his eyes again. After another moment,  he
continued: “I'm sorry. It is just...  I do not like to share myself
with others beside you, My Lord.”

Aragorn saw his bleak expression with dismay. It hurt a little that
Legolas was back to avoiding his gaze and calling him 'My Lord'
again. Of course, given the circumstances, it was only to be
expected. “I know,” he whispered. “I am sorry, melethron. I hate to
share you, too. Yet it is for your good. It is necessary to keep
you safe.” 

Legolas looked down. He did not answer. 

Aragorn sighed. He seized the chin of his slave, tipped it up and
kissed him deeply.

“Hush!” he repeated then, “It won't be happening tonight. Tonight
you will have for yourself. And I will see to it that you won't
have to take one of the watches!” 

Legolas merely bowed his head obediently and murmured “Thank you,
My Lord.” Aragorn looked at him with grief, then he gave up trying
to assuage him  and placed a chaste kiss on his shoulder. “Very
well. Help me to wash myself. Then you may return to the camp,” he
said. 

Legolas obeyed. Mutely, he tended to his master as he had been
commanded, but his attentions, while reverent enough, held none of
his usual devotion. He was simply going through the motions. His
earlier enjoyment of his master's closeness had been replaced by a
numb feeling of emptiness. When he was done, he waited with bowed
head for another command, until his master gave him a gentle shove
in the direction of the shore and ordered him to get out of the
water and dress. He obeyed and dutifully helped Aragorn to put his
clothes back on, too. Then he waited for another order.

Aragorn studied him a moment, then he shook his head and sighed.
“Go back to the camp,” he said gently. “Don't take the first or
second watch. That is an order! I want you to take some rest
tonight!” He reached for the damp blanket. “I will follow later,”
he added.

His slave gave him an obedient bow, then he turned and walked back
to the camp without another word. 

Aragorn watched him go. He bowed his head.

*So it would take him time to regain Legolas' trust again.* 

*Very well. After all, it was nothing more than he had expected.*


__________ o ___________


Legolas made it back to the camp in bleak despair. He feared the
next day, and he feared the night. He wished he had at least not
been commanded to rest. He would much rather forsake sleep
altogether, than have to face the dreams and memories he could feel
lurking in the back of his mind, waiting for the moment when he
slipped into reverie. Still, he could not take a watch. His master
had given him specific orders for tonight.

Legolas refused to think about tomorrow. 

But how was he supposed to *find* rest? Aragorn had not told him
*that*. Legolas  doubted he could. If only he could take one of the
watches...  Then he hesitated, struck by a sudden thought. Aragorn
had not exactly *forbidden* him to take one of the watches, had he
not? He had just insisted it should not be an *early* one. His
master merely wished to prevent him from staying up all night
again, deliberately failing to wake the others who should relieve
him for their turns. 

It was better than nothing.

So Legolas asked for and was permitted to take the third watch of
the night, relieved that he would at least have some distraction
later. Then he settled himself in his bedding, feeling numb and
miserable. He just hoped that he would not be haunted by any
memories this night. 

Of course he knew there was hardly any chance of that.


___________ o __________


Legolas dreamed.

// / He is kneeling. His hands are bound behind his back. It  is
cold. The obscene, thin, loose garment they have clad him in is
barely keeping warmth. It is a thin, slack gown, held together by
laces at the sides and on his shoulders; easily discarded even
without needing to loosen his bonds, should any of his captors wish
to use his body. Still, it is better than being naked. Or so he
supposes.

He shivers. The cold steel collar closed around his neck chafes
against his skin. A heavy metal chain of  well-wrought steel
attaches it to the main pole of the small tent.  It's a few paces
long; his captors do not want to be uncomfortable or to hamper
themselves when they wish to use him.

Despite the chain, they have posted guards outside the tent. He can
hear their idle chatter from the entrance. He wonders at their
presence;  they are hardly necessary, for escape is impossible.
Even if he weren't bound, he is under the curse, and beyond that,
he would not try to flee or kill himself. For if he tried to flee,
or to die, other hostages would have to pay the price for that.
Elrond has said so. But the guards have  been assigned to his tent,
anyway. He supposes Elrond simply does not want to take a risk.

Legolas trembles, body wracked by tremors that have nothing to do
with the cold. He closes his eyes. He is shivering in bleak
despair. Self-loathing and fear tear at his soul. All he wishes for
is to die, but death will not come, however intensely he prays for
this release. It is said that an Elf will die of rape, but he has
not been granted that escape.  Even the Valar reject him! Biting
his lips, balling his fists in defiance, he refuses the tears
trying to escape his eyes. 
He does not know when his captors will return to force themselves
on him. Whenever it is, he will not give them the satisfaction of
letting them see his pain!

With growing numbness, he recalls last night. It has been just
three days since he was enslaved, just three days ago that  Elrond
raped him in front of his own father's eyes and the assembled
company of Mirkwood, and more, the whole host of Rivendell and
Lothlorien. He had been nearly unconscious when they dragged him
finally away. At that time he just wanted to die, and had thought
himself at the end of his endurance. He nursed his injuries and
cried since for all his wishes and prayers, death would not come.
He thought that he was at the very bottom then, that it could not
get worse. 

What a fool he had been! 

Even now he can feel the brutal hands of the guards who dragged him
out of this little tent last night and brought him before Elrond;
and he hears the malevolent voice of the Lord of Rivendell
again....

The scene changes. He is in the grip of hard, brutal hands,
struggling, kicking, cursing, being dragged to a big, imposing
tent...

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


....Hard, unrelenting hands dragged him to the large tent of the
Lord of Rivendell. He struggled, but to no avail. The four guards
holding him were just too strong, not to mention that his hands
were tightly bound. Finally, they had him in the tent. He was
thrown down and scrambled to his knees. The ground was soft,
covered in precious furs. Carefully he raised his eyes, casting his
gaze around. He barely noticed the layout, although it registered
in the back of his mind.
He noticed, though, that everything was sumptuous; intricately
carved furniture was covered with richly embroidered draperies, and
thick tapestries adorned the four walls of the tent. But all his
conscious mind  registered right then were his captors.  There were
five people in the tent beside the guards who held him, standing in
a half-circle around him. Directly before him he could see a pair
of boots, beneath a richly embroidered, heavy gown. Slowly  he
raised his eyes to meet the malicious and hateful gaze of the Lord
of Rivendell. 

*Elrond!* He stared at him, hatred and defiance burning in his
heart. He knew it showed in his eyes, because the enemy Lord held
his gaze with glittering eyes and smiled.

“Welcome, Mirkwood spawn!” Elrond greeted him. “I see you haven't
learned your proper place just yet, nor do you know how to behave!
Don't worry, that will change. Soon you will get accustomed to your
new duties. You will be the plaything of my sons, and for that you
will need to be properly trained! You will serve their pleasure and
fulfill their  every wish, until they tire of you.  For now,
however, it is time for your first lesson. Tonight I will extend
the spell to them and bind you thus to the ones who will own you!” 

Legolas felt himself growing pale, in spite of the hatred burning
inside his soul. Elrond saw it and his smile deepened. “Of course,”
he continued, “*exclusive* ownership will only become effective
after you have learned a few lessons about your new place. Until
then, you will serve *every one* who wants to take you and to whom
I give permission to enjoy you, until I give you to your new
masters.”

Legolas was trembling now, fear clouding his mind, drowning out the
hate. Surely that Noldor-Spawn didn't mean--?

Elrond's cruel smile turned into a grin. He stepped to a little
table at the side and lifted something from its surface. 

Stepping closer and actually kneeling down beside his captive, he
raised the crude thing in front of Legolas' eyes,  close enough to
see. It was a blunt, polished wooden staff, formed like an erect
male member. And as if that alone were not   hideous enough, there
were small shards embedded in the otherwise smooth surface. Elrond
looked at him maliciously, asking: “Do you know what this is?”

Legolas refused to answer. He was beaten from behind. Defiantly he
finally gave a little shake of his head. Elrond smiled again. “It
is a *taer cant aniron*, specially prepared for this little ritual
of ours. You have already tasted it once before. Today, it will go
inside you again and prepare you for us. You are to be taken by
three masters, so I am afraid it will need to enter you a bit
more... thoroughly, tonight.”

Legolas was openly trembling now. He hated the betrayal of his
body, but he could not help himself. He began desperately to
struggle again, and was brutally held in place  by the guards.
Elrond rose abruptly and commanded coldly: “Undress him!”

The remains of the tattered clothes he had worn the day before were
ripped off him, and finally, he was kneeling there  completely
naked, shivering in fear and shame. His hair was brutally yanked
back, forcing his head into his neck. The  mouthpiece of a skin was
pressed against his lips. “Drink!” Elrond's voice commanded. “Three
sips!”

Legolas defiantly pressed his lips together. A whip lashed down on
his bare back, and he flinched, but refused to gasp. Elrond cocked
his head. “If you don't drink on your own, we will force it down
you. And I should warn you now, this drug is very potent.  It
causes need. The more you drink of it, the more badly you will need
to be taken. If you do not drink it on your own, you might actually
be forced to swallow... a lot.”

Legolas was trembling now, but he still defiantly pressed his lips
together. Dispassionately, Elrond commanded: “Narthalion!”

The Elf who held Legolas' hair within his grip closed a gloved hand
over the captive's nose. Bereft of air, Legolas had to gasp. The
moment he opened his mouth, the mouthpiece was forced between his
lips and burning liquid ran into his throat. Soon, he found himself
forced to swallow so he would not choke.

The mouthpiece was removed. So was the hand closing up his nose.
Gasping and coughing, Legolas fought for air, trying to regain his
breath. Finally, he managed to compose himself, and raised his eyes
back to those of his tormentor. 

Elrond smirked at him. “There,” he said, “that was not so hard, was
it?” Then his expression hardened again and he forced the
mouthpiece back between his victim's lips. “Now drink again! Two
more sips!” he commanded harshly.

Suddenly, from the back of the tent, another voice spoke up. “Make
that *three* more.”

Elrond turned, gazing questioningly at the speaker. “Are you sure,
Glorfindel? You want to have a piece of him yourself, then?” he
asked. “I could give you a slave of your own, you know.” In
turning, he removed the mouthpiece, and Legolas risked a look at
this other Elf, and those who stood beside him.

He saw a golden headed Elf-Lord of proud bearing and noble face,
who seemed to glow from the inside and give off light all of his
own. Presently his face held an odd mixture of disgust and pity.
The golden headed Elf shook his head.

“No, my liege. I do not wish for a slave of my own. I just think
that it would be best if there was another one who could give this
slave what he needs to stay alive. You know how often your sons are
abroad hunting Orcs. And you, My Lord, are often held captured by
your duties.” He sighed. “I would be glad if I could provide you
and your sons with another option to ensure this slave's survival.”

Elrond looked at him for another moment quizzically, then his look
turned to two other Elves standing beside the one who had spoken.
Legolas followed his gaze. He saw two eerily identical faces, which
bore a close resemblance to the lord of Rivendell. That must be the
infamous twins then, Elrond's sons, to whom he was going to be
thrown like a bone given to the dogs. 

The twins shared a look and shrugged. “All right,” said the one
standing to the left, “if Glorfindel wants to have a share of him,
he may. It is rare enough that he shows any weakness, and if he has
a liking for this slave, I suppose we can grant him a share.” 

The other twin just nodded his agreement. “We owe Glorfy enough,”
he confirmed. “It is a small enough favor to occasionally share our
slave with him.” 

The golden headed Elf visibly flinched at the disrespectful
shortening of his name and the twins smirked. Elrond raised a brow
and turned back to his victim. 

He pressed the mouthpiece back between Legolas lips. “Very well,”
he callously said, “three more sips then!”

It required the help of Narthalion again, but  finally a sufficient
amount of the drug was forced down Legolas' throat. 

The liquid burned within him, caused him to feel strange. Alarmed,
he registered that Elrond was suddenly  behind him, holding the
hideous pleasure staff. He started to struggle wildly then, but to
no avail. Elrond just pressed his hand against his neck with a
strange word, and suddenly, he could not move, and there was this
freezing blue light again, invading his mind. Then he felt himself
breached by something hard and hurting, and he gasped. He was
determined not to scream, but as the thing impaled him completely,
then was pulled out and then thrust in again, and again, and again,
all the while slicing him open, his resolve was swept away, and he
screamed. 

He also screamed as some kind of paste, thick and burning, was
worked inside him, and then as he felt himself filled by the hot
column of flesh of the hated Elf-Lord, and was brutally raped by
him. He hated himself as the other Elf came within his body, and he
felt himself filled by hot, loathsome fluids. Then the malicious
Elf-Lord pulled out and slipped away; but Legolas had not even time
to heave a sigh of relief before he was impaled again. Another Elf
was behind him, filled him, raped him, then another, and another...
He tried to struggle, but to no avail. He could not move. He could
not fight. But the most horrifying thing was that, to his undying
shame, he suddenly felt his own body stir, react to the hated
inflictions and the brutal treatment, and he felt his member rise,
growing erect... felt himself *craving* the punishing thrusts that
were ripping him apart...

He tried to die, then, tried to leave his body, but always when he
just thought he could float away and leave it behind, the freezing
light would capture him and haul him back. He could not  escape.
His mind shut down then. It was all too much. He could not  say how
long it lasted, when they were done, when the horribly ritual
finally ended. He was barely conscious when they finally left him
alone.


One thing he remembered clearly, though. Before they dragged him
back to the little tent where they held him captive, Elrond spoke
to him, the malicious voice dripping derision and hatred. 

“Remember,” Elrond said, “whatever you do *will* affect your fellow
hostages. If you try to flee, you will be punished, but they will
share your punishment in full. If you try to kill yourself, and
fail, you will be tortured. So will they. If you attempt suicide
and succeed, not only you will die, but ten other hostages as well.
And they will be replaced immediately with other Mirkwood Elves,
among them your last free siblings. You cannot escape, so do not
even try it!” 

Then the master of Rivendell smirked grimly, and hateful
satisfaction was glowing in his eyes.

“But first, you have to learn the workings of the spell. You are
bound to four masters: To me, my sons, and to Lord Glorfindel. Only
*we* can keep you alive with our attentions, and you will *crave*
to be taken by us above all others. I have wound the bond pretty
tightly, since I know my sons like to play a bit, and they might
wish to keep you in need  now and again before they take you. So
you'll need to be taken every month. If you are not, you will
suffer, and finally die. But we won't *let* you die unless we tire
of you. Still, to show you what the spell can do, I condemn you to
be deprived of our attentions for two months. In that time, we may
enjoy your body, but we will *not* give you what you need. Only
when you are close to the brink of death, and beg for it, will you
be taken by your masters. But do not worry! Until then, I will lend
you to every Elf of our host who wants to taste you and whom I see
fit to enjoy himself with you, and you will serve them faithfully.”


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


Suddenly the scene changes again. Legolas finds himself back in the
little tent, wrists bound behind his back and further restrained by
the chain and collar.

Legolas shudders. Slowly, his mind returns from the horror of the
night before. Then he starts and looks around. From the outside, he
can hear two more voices, laughing and boasting. “Step aside,” one
of the new voices says, “we got permission from Lord Elrond to
taste this slave. He seems to be a snotty little thing, this
princeling! 'Tis time somebody showed him his true place! I bet,
once he is tamed he will be quite sweet to savour...”

A roaring fills his ears and he tries hard to fight down his
mounting fear. *So it begins!* He hardly hears the answer of the
guard, then the flap of the tent is opened. Two dark haired Noldor
enter the little tent. Legolas' trembling increases, but at the
same time, he stares at them defiantly and with determination. So
these two want to taste him? He will prove to them that he is not a
sweet, helpless plaything at their whim! If they touch him, they
will pay for it!

He refuses to let them see his apprehension. He stares at them
contemptuously. It takes all his strength to remain kneeling,
instead of jumping up to fight, but he is bound both at his wrists
and with the chain. It would be no use. So, he simply glares at
them. The enemy warriors laugh at him. “Look,” one of them says,
“he still has some spirit!”

The other one sneers: “Time he learned his place!” He steps close
and hits Legolas twice in the face, hard. “Look down, slave! You
are only to raise your eyes when it is demanded! Lord Elrond gave
you to us for this night, and we plan to enjoy it! You will serve
us like the good little slave you are, will you not?!”

Legolas grits his teeth. He refuses an answer and simply bows his
head, as if defeated. One of the Noldor steps behind him and grabs
the chain, yanking it back. Legolas has no choice but to move with
the pull or be choked. The Elf behind him grabs his hair and yanks
his head back into his neck. The Noldor sees Legolas' angry glare
and suppressed anger, and smiles.

“Insolent slave! Still defiant, are you?  It will be a pleasure to
see you broken! Now, open up for us,” he purrs cruelly. “Show me
and my friend here what a talented little mouth you have!”

With horror, Legolas realizes what they mean to do. The Noldor
standing before him has freed his member now. It is fully erect and
eager. Legolas manages to give him a withering glare. He presses
his lips together, tightly. Another blow hits him, this time from
behind. 

“Open up, slave!” the Noldor behind him snarls, “Or you will feel
the whip!”

Legolas grits his teeth and stares at the erect member shoved into
his face. The thought of taking *that thing* into his mouth is
nearly enough to make him gag. But there is no help for it now. The
Noldor behind him holds him immobile with both the chain around his
neck and the harsh grip in his hair, and he cannot move. So, after
a short moment of defiance, he obediently opens his mouth.

The male before him grins. The one behind him lets go of his hair
to give him some room to move. “Look at this!” he jeers. “Not so
proud now, anymore, our little princeling! Eager, is he not?”

Legolas ignores him. Invitingly and seemingly resigned to his fate
he opens his mouth and suffers the Elf before him to shove his
member in. He feels the need to gag, but suppresses it with all his
might. Instead, he obediently closes his lips around the invading
body part, even forcing himself to swirl his tongue around the
hostile flesh.

The Noldor groans, surprised at the slave's sudden compliance, then
he grins. “For a beginner, you are quite talented,” he sneers, a
little breathlessly. “Always dreamed of doing that, did you? Now,
slave, pleasure me! And make it good!”

Legolas ignores the jeering words, ignores the cruel, derisive
laughter of the other Noldor, the one behind him. He even refuses
the brief urge to smile. Instead, he swirls his tongue
experimentally around the engorged member raping him another time -
and then bites down. Hard.

Blood fills his mouth. The Noldor howls. A hard blow connects with
the side of his jaw, blinding pain exploding in his head, and the
chain around his neck is pulled back hard, threatening to crush his
windpipe. In sudden panic he is forced to gasp for air, and thus
let go. The injured rapist withdraws and stumbles back. Legolas
spits the blood out of his mouth. There is a revolting piece of
flesh with it, but not enough. Hard blows are raining down on him,
kicks hit his sides, and the chain still threatens to choke him. He
tries to struggle, but to no avail. Then the guards are there,
subduing him, and the blows and kicks come from all sides now.
Somebody yells for the healers. The injured Noldor huddles on the
other side of the tent, screaming and howling like a wounded
animal, and for a moment, Legolas rejoices in dark satisfaction. A
kick hits his groin, and white pain explodes in his head. He curls
around himself. The chain is yanked harshly back again and  he
chokes, fighting for air. More kicks attack his sides. He realizes
that they  are going to beat him to death. 

It doesn't matter. He made them pay for what they did to him, he
managed to pay them back! He is ready to die now! Then something
connects with the back of his head, pain explodes within his brain,
and everything goes black.


-- Legolas whimpered. He knew that he was dreaming, that he was
reliving memories; he knew that he should wake, but as it was
sometimes with nightmares, he could not. He feared what was to
come, he feared to continue the memory, feared it like a very young
Elfling feared to go round a dark, looming corner. But try as he
might, he could not wake. He was trapped in the dream. The events
of the past unraveled in his mind as they had done before. He
fought for control, fought to leave the memory,  but it was no use.
The dream went on. He could not escape. 

...The scene changes again. 

He is still kneeling, but this time, he is naked. He is tied fast
to a frame of poles, keeping him  immobile, arms and legs spread
apart. His whole body hurts from the severe whipping he has just
received. He'd thought they would beat him to death, but they
stopped just short of rendering him unconscious. Of course, they
told him, this was only the start. He knows more is to come: he is
tied just in front of another rack holding the instruments of
torture, and a big fireplace a little to the side promises worse to
come.

Somebody enters the tent, and he raises his head to face his new
tormentor. It is Elrond and his torture-master, the cruel, callous,
muscled Elf who delivered the whipping.  With them is  one of the
other hostages. It is an elleth(2), wide-eyed, frightened beyond
belief. She is tightly bound, but she tries to fight every inch of
the way, digging in her heels, squirming. It is useless; the
torturer holds her in an iron grip and drags her with him
mercilessly. When she sees the rack she wails in fear. 

Legolas is confused. He knows something terrible is about to
happen, but he doesn't know what. It was *him* who did the deed
they are about to punish. What do they want with the girl?

He does not know her. She is from one of the outer settlements. All
he knows is that she was chosen by her community to become  a
hostage because she lost her beloved in battle recently, and her
parents and siblings in an Orc-raid long ago. It is cruel to
condemn those already struck by fate to become hostages, but it is
necessary to protect the others. At least,  she will not leave any
loved ones behind.

Still, she is one of his people and he is bound to protect her, if
he can.

But he cannot. She screams when she sees the instruments of
torture, screams again when she sees  Legolas' bound, naked form.
The torturer slaps her cruelly, commands her to be quiet, and she
subsides to avoid further punishment. He ignores Legolas' desperate
shout to let her go. He drags her to the tent-pole and binds her to
it, legs, waist and throat, until she cannot move. The girl is
quiet now, but she looks around as frightened as a panicked horse.

The torturer steps to the side, waiting. Elrond turns to Legolas.
He smiles evilly.
“I am disappointed with you, Mirkwood Spawn! Obviously, you have
yet to learn your place! You committed a terrible offense,
attacking one of your betters when it was your duty to pleasure
him! I told you that for every misdeed not only you but also your
fellow hostages would have to pay, did I not?”

The girl looks at Elrond, wide eyed, startled. Her mouth forms a
terrified 'o', and she shakes her head as if in denial.  Legolas
looks at her pale, aghast face, then he looks back at Elrond. He
defiantly presses his lips together. Elrond sees it and shrugs.

“Well, they already have. The whipping you received was shared by
all of your fellow hostages,” he says casually. “However, since you
attacked one of your betters, one of my free warriors, that
punishment is much too mild; it can serve only for a start.” He
narrows his eyes. “The one whom you attacked suffered severe
injury. You did not manage to castrate him, or this would be a
death sentence for you and all who were enslaved with you. But you
did considerable harm.” 

The girl is white as snow now. Her breath comes fast. Legolas
stares at Elrond. He knows, his face shows no regret, because he
feels none. He is just sorry that he did not succeed in mutilating
the bastard. He deserved it!

Elrond smiles. “Normally, an offense like this committed by a slave
would warrant  the slave's castration and further, the cutting out
his tongue, rendering him mute for the rest of his  days. However,
since you are to be the property of my sons and they don't want you
so marred, another hostage will have to pay for your offense.
Another one will suffer the mutilation you deserve.”

Legolas' head snaps up and he stares at Elrond, wide-eyed and in
fear. He shakes his head, tries to protest. “No!” he begins to say,
“No...”

Elrond sees his reaction and grins. “Unfortunately, most of the
other hostages have already been given to their new masters. Their
new masters do not wish them marred in a way that would render them
useless. So we decided not to take your punishment out on  one of
the other males. Instead, we choose this female. Of course, we will
have to bend the sentence since she can't lose body parts that she
does not have. So instead of a castration, we will take out her
eyes. Her new master is one who likes his slaves... dependent and
...quiet. He will not protest to have her thus.”

The elleth screams.  Legolas screams, too. He fights his bonds in
despair, but they do not yield. He shakes his head in denial,
uttering pleas. Pride and defiance forgotten, he pleads and begs in
shame. “No! Not her! Not her! *Me*! *Please*! Don't harm her! Take
me! Do it to me! It was *my* fault, let *me* pay for it! Blind me,
torture me, but do not harm *her*!”

Elrond smirks at him. “Oh, you will continue to pay, make no
mistake! You will be tortured; you will have much time to think of
what you did. But you will not be marred. For every offense you
commit, others will have to pay. You know that, do you not?”

The torturer steps to the rack and takes a knife. He steps back to
the girl, and grabs her chin, forcing her to open her mouth. She
wails constantly now. Legolas continues to fight his bonds,
continues to scream and plead, but he might as well be mute, since
it is to no avail. The girl gurgles and wails as her tormentor
takes out  her tongue. Her cries are less articulate now, but
pitiful. Blood pools around her mouth. She looks at Legolas,
pleadingly, eyes wide in fear and pain. He looks back, in tears,
feeling damned beyond damnation. 

The torturer steps back to the rack and takes a long, cruel
instrument, much like a stiletto. He steps back to the girl.
Legolas shakes his head from side to side. His face is awash in
tears. He tries to close his eyes, but he cannot. He does not
deserve to look away. Something within himself forces him to look,
to face what he has done. 

Awash in pain he witnesses her last look at him, accusing,
despairing, full of fear. He hears her scream as the tormentor
plucks out her eyes, and it rends his heart. He knows now that he
does not deserve to be called her prince. He *never* deserved to be
called a prince of his people. When she is dragged away, finally,
mercifully unconscious, he bows his head and cries. He has not
enough curses in his heart to cast on himself, no term derisive
enough to ever describe him. And he knows now that he does not
deserve to die. Death would be far too merciful a punishment for
this.


__________________ o ______________


Legolas woke, bathed in sweat, heart hammering in his chest.
Helpless sobs died in his throat while he tried to get his
bearings.

The night was quiet. The sky above him was full of stars. He wildly
looked around, for a moment without orientation. He could see his
master, not three steps away, sleeping, huddled in his coat for
warmth. Everything was quiet; they were in the wilds, not in an
Elven  war camp. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to calm
himself. Memory readjusted itself. *Oh, yes, the Quest*. All around
him, he could hear the soft breathing noises of the sleeping
fellowship. A little to the side he heard the inescapable snoring
of the
had woken anyone with his nightmare. Apparently not, for the only
one awake besides himself was Pippin, who had the second watch.

Silently, he drew his knees to his body, closed his arms around
them and curled around himself. Slowly rocking back and forth, he
tried to slow his breathing and calm down. He did not stop the
tears falling from his eyes, although he swallowed his sobs. He did
not wish to wake the others with his nightmares again.

Eyes unseeing, he forced  himself to face the memories. They held
him mercilessly in their grip, would not relent.

Of course, it had not ended there. Elrond had made good his threat;
they had tortured Legolas for days and within an inch of his life,
tortured him until he knew nothing but pain and thought he would
never know anything else again. He suffered through it without
complaint, without begging for mercy. In fact, he welcomed the
pain. He felt it was just what he deserved, and the least he could
do to pay for what he had brought down by his actions upon that
poor girl whom he was supposed to protect.

He had still hoped that he would die, that they would finally kill
him, or mutilate him too; but they never did. In fact, they took
care not to do him lasting harm, mindful of the wishes of his
future masters. And after a few days the torture stopped and they
let him recover. 

*Of course, this had but been the start of the real nightmare.*

As soon as he had been recovered enough, they had started to use
him as they wished, use him as Elrond had threatened. He shuddered
when he thought back to it, and he was glad that at least his
memories of that time were less than clear. An endless stream of
warriors, both of Rivendell and Lothlorien, got leave to use his
body as they pleased, as long as they did not do him lasting harm.
Some days it had been three or four who came to the little tent to
use him. At first they'd put a ring into his mouth when they wished
to force themselves on him that way to hinder him from biting.
Later, when the first stages of need kicked in and they were sure
that he was broken, they ceased to use that toy. In fact, they
would not have needed to bother. He never again tried to fight or
to refuse to pleasure one of his abusers. He learned his lesson.

There were others who would have to pay for that. And he could not
afford to bring harm upon them.

During that time, he lost count of those who came to him. He did
not care. He was caught in self-hatred and despair. The only thing
he truly loathed more than himself were the times when he was
forced to serve Elrond. The Lord of Rivendell would use him for his
pleasure every other day, always in the evenings, always using his
mouth, never giving him relief by feeding the spell. Sometimes he
would share him with Erestor, his advisor. Legolas loathed these
times, loathed Elrond, but he never tried to fight. He would not
bring another punishment upon his fellow hostages again.

He thought he could not sink deeper, that there was nothing left of
his pride or self-respect, nothing he had to lose. He was wrong.
The most horrifying thing, that ripped him out of his acquired
numbness, had been when the need and withdrawal set in and his body
began to react to his abusers, his mind began to crave the abuse
and rape. At this point he thought he would go mad. And he would
surely not have survived this time with his mind intact if not for
Glorfindel. The Noldor lord visited him often, never using him for
his pleasure, but holding him, reassuring him, consoling him,
explaining to him the reactions of his body and the workings of the
spell. It was due to *him* that Legolas understood, and regained
some respect for himself. Still, he was nearly on the brink of
madness, pitifully begging to be taken, tormented by need and the
poisoning of his own, treacherous body, when Elrond finally allowed
his sons to relieve him and feed the spell.

Afterwards he was given to the twins, and things became a little
better. Elladan and Elrohir were cruel in their own way, and they
liked cruel games; but at least they did not share him with others
anymore. And while they treated him just as their pet, even called
him thus,  at least they did not treat him as a *thing*. They even
allowed him to walk around  freely and talked with him to their own
amusement when they were in private. Slowly, very slowly, he
learned to think again.

It was torture to face the other hostages, even though, to his
surprise, he found that they did not all hate him. Still, it was
painful beyond measure to see the mutilated girl again, stumbling
over things to the amusement of her cruel master, who deliberately
put them in her way. 

He was glad when both the cruel Elf who owned the elleth and the
girl herself accidentally died in a landslide in the Misty
Mountains on their way to Rivendell. At least, in Mandos she would
find peace and hopefully be whole again.

But it was not until Rivendell that Legolas found hope and a reason
to appreciate life again in the grey eyes of an eleven-year-old,
human boy.

-- Legolas shook his head, with effort banishing the memories away.
He briefly looked over to Aragorn, debating whether he should try
to snuggle up to him. Estel would probably be willing to hold him
close and give him comfort without asking questions, as he had done
so many nights before.

Then he recalled the bargain Aragorn had struck and what had
happened the other night, and he dismissed the thought. He was not
sure if he could stand the touch of his master right now. Instead,
he stood, gathered his weapons and went to relieve Pippin of the
watch. He knew he would not find any more sleep this night.


____________________ o ___________________


Legolas huddled deeper against the big trunk of the tree he had
chosen as lookout for his watch, and let his eyes trail around the
sleeping camp. It was late in the year and most of the leaves had
already fallen; there was hardly any foliage left to hamper his
vision and the branches were just big and thickly spread enough to
hide him from unfriendly eyes from a distance. Just right for a
Woodelf on watch-duty.  In any case, he did not feel comfortable on
the ground right now and needed the tree's reassuring presence to
give him comfort. 

The voices of these trees here were faint, not as clearly defined
and awake as the trees in Rivendell, especially the big one that
had given him comfort so often in the past; and they could even
less compare to the wakeful trees of Mirkwood, at least the ones
close to his father's halls, which were still in league and friends
with his people. These trees here were of Eregion; they had not
known Elves for a very long time, and even then they were used to
another kind of Elves, one who dismissed trees and saw them mostly
as a means to light the fires of their smithies. There had been far
too few Sindar among the Noldor of Eregion at that time to speak to
the trees and appreciate their voices. And even so, the Elves of
Eregion were gone a very long time ago. Still, the trees had
voices, and the one he had sought shelter within now had felt his
pain, and tried to soothe him.

At the very least, it would protect him and help him in his watch,
give warning if any evil drew near. And this was something he would
need right now, distracted and upset as he was by his earlier
nightmare. 

Shivering, Legolas huddled himself tighter together and fought
against the lingering pain and despair. He shuddered again as  he
thought back to that time. After that incident with the girl, he
had nearly been broken. He had simply ceased to care. At the time
he arrived in Rivendell, he had been already been better, although
it still took quite a while until he had really been able to
develop something akin to  self-confidence and self-respect again.
He just owed it to Glorfindel that in the end he did not break, but
managed to  recover at all. He would not have survived with his
sanity intact if not for the golden-headed Noldor Lord. 

Desperately, Legolas recalled the many reassuring words Glorfindel
had given him at that time, and especially the counsel the Noldor
Lord had given him concerning that girl. It had been about two
weeks after the extension of the spell, and early in Glorfindel's
frequent visits in his little tent. After a few visits, Legolas had
learned to know the Noldor Lord from the other enemies who visited
him for their pleasure, and finally, hesitantly, he had began to
trust him, simply because there were no other sources of
reassurance to be had and no one else he could trust or confide in,
and he needed *someone*. 

Glorfindel had patiently calmed him down; the first, few
conversations with the Noldor Lord must have resembled trying to
calm a panicked and skittish horse abused by his masters. Still,
the seneschal had visited him again and again and finally he got
Legolas to calm down in his presence and really *listen* to him.
And slowly, Legolas had started to trust again, especially since
the other Elf never sought to take his pleasure of the slave. In
the end, Legolas could even allow Glorfindel to touch him without
retreating behind inner walls. Even now, he would trust the Noldor
with his life, nearly as much - and, painfully enough, sometimes
even more – as he trusted Estel. 

For Glorfindel had never intentionally hurt him.

Then again, Glorfindel had never given him his love. And while the
Noldor Elf had saved Legolas' sanity with his counsel and support,
it had been *Estel* who later managed to make Legolas want to live
again.

Still, while Estel had conquered and come to own his heart, at
first Glorfindel had given him the strength to survive and recover. 

It has been during one of these visits in the first month of
Legolas' enslavement that Glorfindel surprised him with a most
astonishing confession.


// / Legolas was kneeling in the very place where the last couple
of rapists and abusers had left him. He was trembling in shame,
head bowed down. He desperately wished to be alone, although the
one keeping him company presently had come to be welcome company to
him and normally he was glad for the Noldor Lord's visits. Yet
right now he was all too aware of his tattered garment, the reek of
sex, and of the lingering traces of the recent abuse still evident
on his form. 

None of that seemed to bother Glorfindel, though. The golden-headed
Noldor Lord was busy cleaning Legolas' body with a soft cloth, soap
and a bowl of clean, warm water, as naturally  as if such
ministrations to a mere slave were the most normal tasks for the
seneschal of Rivendell.

The plain attentions had  a  calming effect on the stricken slave,
but they did nothing to disperse Legolas' despair and shame. Nor
did they lessen the first, raw, revolting currents of need and
desire coursing through his system. The Noldor Lord had gently
explained these feelings to him as an inevitable side-effect of the
spell that bound Legolas now, even more effectively than his still
bound hands.

“Withdrawal,” Glorfindel had explained, “first it will manifest
itself in need and desire, later it will transform into the
driving need to be taken, and at last it will make you sick and
kill you. Only those to whom you are bound to can stop the process.
But Elrond has forbidden us to give you that relief for the time,
and as much as I regret this fact, he is right in this: you *need*
to go through the process at least once so you will understand what
it will do. But do not despair! None of the feelings you will be
forced to experience belong to you; they are caused and enforced by
the spell, and you do not need to be embarrassed about them.”

That had not been very reassuring, nor had it done much to endear
the Noldor Lord to Legolas at first; but by now he was grateful for
the explanation. Still, the knowledge did nothing to lessen his
despair and self-loathing. Again he wished that he could die. Yet
he was denied such mercy. 

Glorfindel cleaned his exposed shoulders. He flushed and bowed his
head to hide his face.

Nearly inaudibly, he said: “You must despise me, My lord!”

To his astonishment, Glorfindel denied it.

“No, Greenleaf. I do not despise you. In fact, I respect you very
much.” 

Legolas' head came up in shock. Then he shook his head. “You mock
me, My Lord!” he said bitterly, feeling an inexplicable feeling of
loss and grief at the thought. Why he expected anything else from
the Noldor Lord, he did not know. And yet, was it not simply what
he deserved? 

Glorfindel shook his head. Legolas saw it, yet did not trust the
gesture. With effort, he bit back his tears and his feelings of
despair and betrayal,and spat out:    “Why would you think this?
What would be honorable about me?” 

Glorfindel set his bowl away and knelt down in front of the upset
slave. Seriously, he looked at the distressed face before him and
held Legolas' gaze.

“I do not mock you,” he said.”I do respect you. I respect you for
what you were willing to do for your people. It takes courage to
sacrifice oneself for others, but more courage to do it the way you
did.”

Legolas shuddered. He could not hold the gaze of the Noldor Lord
and averted his eyes.”Oh, yes,” he spat bitterly, “it is such a
honorable thing I do! I am everybody's whore, and they use me at
their whim and wish.  And I am serving them like a common harlot,
as if I were a seasoned slut. Look at me! I cannot even *die* as I
should do! I am an abomination!”

He looked down, unable to face the gentle Noldor Lord he had come
to respect and trust.

Glorfindel sighed and set the cloth away. He waited patiently for
the slave to raise his head again, but when he didn't, he reached
out and tipped the chin of the other Elf gently up with two
fingers.

“Look at me,” he commanded gently. ”I do not care what you are
forced to do. You are under the spell; that is the reason why you
cannot die, as you surely would if you had been forced through this
without the curse. It has nothing to do with your worthiness, nor
is it a rejection of the Valar; it is a side effect of that
damnable curse. And you weren't all that willing to submit your
body from the start, were you?”

Legolas' gaze faltered again and he blushed deeply. He bit his
lips. The girl!....

Tonelessly, he answered: “No, I wasn't.” Then, after a moment, he
continued in the same, flat tone: “Forgive, My Lord! I... spoke out
of line. I request punishment, if you would grace me with it...”

Glorfindel looked at him another moment with regret and pity, then
he sighed and shook his head again.

“No, Greenleaf! You did not speak out of line and I am not here to
punish you! I understand that you have trouble to adjusting to your
new fate, but there is nothing dishonorable in that. It would be
alarming were it different! And I do not mock you when I say that I
respect you. I understand sacrifice, and I understand that you gave
yourself into slavery as a hostage to avert Elrond's threat to kill
your father and burn down your home to the last of your people. It
takes great courage to do that, even if you did not fully realize
what it would include at the time. You knew enough. Truly, it is
one thing to die in battle for your people to save the innocents
from an overwhelming enemy or to cover their flight to safety. It
takes strength and courage, but it lasts only a moment, or even a
few days, and then it is over. But to willingly embrace slavery and
humiliation to protect those who you love,  possibly forever,
without even the prospect of release in death, that takes *more*
than courage. It is a sacrifice of the highest order. How could I
not respect that?”

He shook his head, looking sadly at the younger elf, who stared at
him with gaping mouth. 

“Don't give up on yourself, Greenleaf. There is more strength
within you than you know and see right now. I can foretell you have
a destiny yet to fulfill. Do not let yourself be broken by a cruel
spell that forces on you needs and feelings you have no control to
stop or stem, and by circumstances that forbid you to fight lest
you risk the suffering and pain of others.”

Legolas stared at him, still disbelieving, then his face became
awash in pain and he bowed his head again. 

“No, My Lord, I do not deserve your respect or praise,” he said
sadly, “not after what I did to that poor girl.”

Glorfindel looked at him for a moment, sadly and with dismay, then
he shook his head and sighed. Without any judgment, he asked
simply: “Did *you* mutilate her?”

Legolas head shot up, startled. Then he shuddered and bowed it down
again. “Not with my own hands,” he said, “but...”He sighed. “It was
I who caused her torture. It was my deed Elrond avenged on her! I
could as well have blinded her myself, for I am responsible for her
suffering.”

Glorfindel shook his head again. “Did you *know* Elrond would do
this to her?” he patiently asked.

Legolas went pale and looked up again. “Nay!” he exclaimed. “Nay!!!
I'd never have expected...” 

Then he swallowed harshly and looked down again. “But I *should*
have,” he added crestfallen, “shouldn't I? Elrond warned me, after
all, that whatever I did would have consequences for the other
hostages. I should have known he would punish others for my deeds
as well!”

Glorfindel looked grim. His face was a harshly controlled mask of
anger. What a well-wrought trap Elrond had set for these Elves,
especially this young one, and how truly evilly the Lord of
Rivendell  had thought it out! It took him visible effort to
control his voice and his features. 

Very carefully, he said: “But did you *expect* him to do what he
has done?”

Legolas despondently shook his head. “What does it matter?” he
replied bitterly, “He still blinded her!”

Then, after a moment, he added: “No, I never thought he would go
after that girl. I thought he would punish *me*, mayhap one of the
other warriors taken hostage together with me, but *this*...”

He shook his head.

Glorfindel nodded grimly. “And you knew you, as well as  the
warriors among your fellow hostages, were ready to take whatever
punishment Elrond would mete out on them for your defiance,” he
concluded. “You are a warrior, yourself; that you would not suffer
abuse meekly without any attempt to retaliate sooner or later was
to be expected. And if you had, one of the other warriors among the
hostages likely would have put up a fight. You expected to be
punished, you even expected one of them to suffer for your deed;
and each and every one of your fellow warriors would have gladly
paid the price for defiance as well as you.”

Legolas looked at him, disbelievingly. The Noldor Lord didn't agree
with Lord Elrond? He didn't think the punishment meted out on the
hostages just? -- But somehow, Legolas would have been astonished
and disappointed, had Glorfindel reacted otherwise. He had come to
respect the Noldor Lord a lot, and he placed trust in him.

Still, he had to disagree. “Not *this* price!” he objected.

Glorfindel nodded grimly. “Which is precisely why Elrond chose to
hurt the girl,” he said. “Nothing else would have been as effective
in keeping you and your fellow warriors in line. You are not
prepared to risk harming the innocent by your actions. Had you not
rebelled as you did, had it been one of the others, he would likely
have used her to make an example, anyway.”

Legolas stared at him, frozen in horror. “You mean... he planned
this?!” he asked, baffled. Then, an even more horrible thought
sprang to his mind: “Does he do something like this every time our
people have to give him hostages?”

Up to this point, he had thought his careless action, which had
hurt the girl, unforgivable. But now he feared that there were a
lot more sadly mutilated Elves of his home, cruelly punished to
keep the new hostages in line. 

Glorfindel bowed his head. His face showed pain.

“No... not exactly,” he reassured the younger Elf. “He was
exceptionally cruel this last time. But yes, every time Rivendell
takes new hostages, inevitably one of them rebels, and then not
only the one who rebels but all the others are   punished. And most
of the time, Elrond chooses one of the new hostages who did nothing
wrong to be punished most severely as an example for the others,
although, normally, he refrains from doing lasting harm.”

He sighed. The topic was extremely shameful and painful for him,
too. “At least in the body,” he concluded finally, grimly. “I am
sorry.”

After a moment he looked up and forced himself to meet the eyes of
the young prince again. 

“In your case, he made a point of telling the story of your offense
and of the girl's punishment to each and every one of your fellow
hostages,” he continued. “As you can imagine, it served well to
keep them in line.”

Legolas stared at him with burning eyes, then he bowed his head. “I
can imagine,” he said tonelessly.

Glorfindel took a deep breath that came out as another sigh. “Yes,
but if I am not very mistaken, the effect of this was somewhat
different than Elrond intended. I am not so sure you would find the
other hostages loathing you, if you were to talk to them,” he said. 

Then he reached out and dared to place a hand on the other Elf's
shoulder. As he had expected. Legolas flinched,but Glorfindel did
not retract his hand, nor did he do anything else than give the
shoulder of the younger Elf a reassuring squeeze.


*“It wasn't you,”* he said. “It was Lord Elrond, who did this harm.
Of course you cannot risk for anything like this to happen again,
but your self-recrimination about it  is needless and misplaced. It
was *not* you!”

The younger Elf trembled under his touch. But finally, after long
moments, he hesitantly nodded. Glorfindel nodded back and retracted
his hand.

Very slowly, Legolas looked up and met his gaze. “Thank you, My
Lord,” he managed. 

Then, keeping his voice deliberately neutral, he asked carefully:
“Would you tell me, My Lord, how it came about that a warrior and
lord like you is serving... Lord Elrond?”

He could not keep the loathing and hatred completely out of his
voice when he said Elrond's name, although he made an effort. After
all, however understanding Glorfindel might be, Legolas could not
afford to forget his position. He was a slave, and Glorfindel was
still Elrond's seneschal. Legolas could not afford to alienate the
benevolent Noldor Lord by openly insulting his liege-lord in his
presence.

Glorfindel just stared at him blankly for a moment.

“He's my liege-lord, as I thought you knew,” he said.

Legolas just stared back at him for a moment, then his face went
blank. Dejected,  he bowed his head and said, just as he had been
taught: “Forgive me, My Lord, I was out of line. I... I request
punishment, if you would grace me with it.”

Glorfindel looked at him for a moment, then he took pity on him.

“It's a long story,” he said simply. “I am bound to him by oath.
You see, I am bound to serve and protect him and his line, no
matter what, though unfortunately I failed in this, since I could
not protect him from... from becoming what he is now.”

He shook his head again, his eyes dark with regret and sorrow. 

“So all I can do now is trying to lessen...” he stopped himself and
ceased speaking.

Very hesitantly, Legolas looked up again, meeting the kind, but
sorrowful eyes of the Noldor Lord.

Startled and somewhat disbelievingly he asked: “You swore an
oath... to Lord Elrond?”

Again he barely managed to keep the loathing out of his voice as he
spoke the hated Elf-Lord's name.

Glorfindel raised a brow at his tone but did not sanction him. He
shook his head again. 

“No, not to Lord Elrond, at least not at the start,” he explained.
“As I said, it is a long story. How much do you know about the
history of Gondolin, Little One?”

Legolas stared at him blankly. He had been taught Elven history, of
course, but the fights of the Noldor in the First Age were not
among his favorite and most intensely studied lessons. He was well
versed in the history of Doriath, but Gondolin... something clicked
inside his head. “It was a Noldor city in the First Age,” he
recited, “long time completely hidden, then betrayed and overrun by
Morgoth. The fugitives of that city dwelt for a time at the Mouth
of Sirion together with the survivors of Doriath.” His eyes
widened. “You are... you've been there?” he asked then. “You are
from Gondolin?”

Glorfindel quirked his mouth. Obviously the Mirkwood Elves were
among the last Elves in Middle Earth who did not know - or cared
for -the great story of his slaying of a Balrog, his death and
rebirth. What a nice change.

Unfortunately he could not leave it that way.

“Originally, yes,” he allowed. “I was a captain of king Turgon's
guard; he was the king of Gondolin.  He had a beautiful daughter:
Idril Celebrindal. She was his only child. And I was one of her
many suitor'.”

Legolas looked at him blankly, asking himself where this might
lead. He was sore and weary,and the earlier abuse was catching up
with him. Still, he was eager to learn more about the benevolent
Noldor Lord who had become his one source of strength and
consolation lately.

“Did she give her heart to you?” he asked. But in the back of his
mind, he remembered something that didn't fit here. *Maeglin*. Had
it not been *Maeglin* who desired Gondolin's heiress but got
rejected? And afterwards  betrayed the city out of spite? But Idril
did not marry an Elf, she married... 

Legolas blanched when suddenly the tale came back to him.
Glorfindel saw it and nodded.

“No,” he explained regretfully, “she loved another. A mortal, one
of the Edain. She even married him! I was heartbroken. But I was so
hopelessly in love with her that I swore to her at her wedding I
would always protect her and her line, no matter what, as long as I
was capable of doing so.”

He sighed. “So you see...”

“Tuor,” Legolas finally recalled from the long history lessons of
his childhood. “Idril married Tuor, one of the Edain. Her son was
Earendil, who married Elwing, daughter of Dior Eluchir, the son of
Luthien. And Earendil's and Elwing's sons were...”

“Elros and Elrond,” Glorfindel nodded. “Elros chose a mortal fate,
Elrond chose the fate of the Eldar. Elrond remains. And I am bound
by my oath to protect him.”

Legolas looked at him in awe and sudden realization. “You are
Glorfindel of Gondolin!” he exclaimed, remembering the valorous
stories he had loved to read as child, “The Balrog Slayer!” 

Then he drew his brows together, looking confused. “But... I
thought... you died!”

Glorfindel cocked his head. “I slew the Balrog. I attacked it and
toppled it off the mountain. And yes, in doing so, I died. The fall
killed us both, and I went to Mandos. But the Valar decided I had
not yet fulfilled my destiny. They clothed me again in flesh and
send me back so I could fulfill my oath.”

Legolas stared at him.

“To protect Elrond,” he finished.

“To protect Idril's descendants and line,” Glorfindel corrected.
“And I failed in this duty with Elrond, since he got touched by the
shadow. Elrond was not always like this.”

He stopped, then concluded sadly: ”But I deem that of no great
consolation to you.”

The slave held his gaze for another moment, then he looked down.
“It is not,” he acknowledged.

Glorfindel just nodded. Then he reached out again and placed his
hand lightly on the younger Elf's shoulder. “Just remember that in
all your deeds, you may fail even through no fault of yours. And
still, even while you fail, your deed itself may stay a noble one.
Do not condemn yourself too eagerly. Remember that you did what you
did to save your people, and do not allow yourself to be broken.
You may yet have a fate to fulfill.”

With that, he packed his things, got up and left Legolas with a lot
to think about./ //


Legolas blinked, banishing the vivid memory. Quickly, he looked
around, reassuring himself that all was well and no danger had
approached the fellowship unnoticed. Sighing, he stretched his
limbs.

Yes, he owed a lot to Glorfindel. In fact, the confession of the
Noldor Lord had done nothing to lessen Legolas' respect for him;
instead, after a few days, he was glad that the Rivendell warrior
had confided in him and thereby proved his respect to him. This
respect and confidence, as well as the sheer distraction of
thinking about Glorfindel's story, greatly helped him through the
following days of rape and abuse, until the need killed all
conscious thought in him. 

Later, when Elrohir and Elladan took exclusive ownership of him and
allowed him to walk around the camp freely, he discovered to his
astonishment that Glorfindel had been right with his assessment of
the other hostages. Most of the other hostages did not hate or
despise him, or even blame him for what had happened with the girl.
Most of the warriors among the other slaves even praised the fact
that he had not easily caved in, although they all agreed none of
them could risk another deed of rebellion. Instead they blamed
Elrond. Elrond's telling of Legolas deed and the punishment for it
had only succeeded in causing the other hostages to hate and
despise the Lord of Rivendell even more completely than they did
before.

Legolas did not dare to speak with the girl, though.

He also learned to his astonishment that Elrohir and Elladan were
nothing like their father. They were cruel, yes, and they were
inventive, and they trained him very thoroughly as their personal
pleasure slave. *And* they liked cruel, prolonged bed-games of
torture and pleasure mixed with pain and humiliation. Yet they did
not try to break him, but instead coaxed him slowly, but patiently
into showing his thoughts and feelings again, even encouraging  him
to think on his own. They did not want a mindless, broken slave,
they wanted a person in their bed, even if they amused themselves
in treating that person as their pet. And they did not share him
with others, except with Glorfindel. Legolas suspected that the
twins knew very well Glorfindel did not use their slave for his own
pleasure, but instead used the time to heal and encourage their
'pet'. 

But if they knew, they kept a blind eye to that. Apparently they
thought if Glorfindel could improve Legolas stability, they would
benefit from that as well.

In fact, as much as Legolas came to loathe and fear his new masters
and their games,  Elladan and Elrohir effectively protected their
new slave from Elrond's cruel whims. When Legolas finally came to
Rivendell he had almost – almost! -  resigned himself to his fate.

That was when he met Estel.

Legolas smiled sadly while he remembered the slightly rocky start
of their relationship. He had been sore from riding; Elladan and
Elrohir had amused themselves with using a riding crop on him until
he was hurting badly  the evening before, and forcing him to ride a
bony horse the whole next day. He was tired, he was sore, and
Elrohir held the lash  to   his bound  wrists as well as the bridle
of his horse. He was not allowed to direct the beast himself, of
course.

That was the way he first rode through the gates of Rivendell, and
he was just glad that they had arrived and the long travel of the
day was over. Then, a sudden whirlwind in form of a boy ran down
the path and nearly bumped into Elladan's horse. 


// / Elladan laughed. “Whoa!” he exclaimed. “Careful, little
brother, you're scaring the horses!” 

The boy was unperturbed. He danced around with excitement.
“Elladan! Elrohir! You are back!” he cried. “Were you victorious?
Did you vanquish the evil Necromancer? Did you kill many Orcs? I
bet you did! Were there great battles? Did they have wargs? And
trolls, and spiders?”

Elrohir and Elladan both laughed at this firework of questions, as
well as the other warriors around them. Legolas used the time to
rein in his astonishment and study the boy bemused. 

The young one had to be about seventeen, given that peredhil grew
up like normal elflings(3), and he had a certain likeness to the
twins; but for some reason, he reminded Legolas of the children of
mannish origin he had seen in Laketown once or twice. 

Well, if this was another son of Elrond, he had to have at least a
little mannish blood in his veins. Maybe it was more obvious in a
child. 

Yet he knew for sure that Elrond's wife Celebrian had passed over
the sea to the Undying Lands a long time ago; Elrond had blamed his
people for that often enough in the past. Had the Lord of Rivendell
taken another lover? Legolas and his people had heard nothing of
the sort. And apparently it did not hinder the Peredhel from raping
and taking his pleasure of unwilling slaves, either.

Bitterly, Legolas shoved his musings away and concentrated back on
the exchange unfolding before him.

Elladan laughed again and raised his hands in feigned defeat. “Stop
it!” he cried, “You are firing questions faster than Glorfindel can
fire his arrows! Give me at least some space to answer!”

The boy stopped his endless flow of questions and beamed
sheepishly. “Sorry!” he exclaimed, “I just want to know...”

He clearly was about to start again, and Elrohir joined in the
laughter of his twin. “For the Valar's sakes, Elladan, tell him
already or he'll pester us until the sun goes down!” he exclaimed.

Elladan scowled. “Me? He is *your* brother, too! How is it that it
is always *me*, who--”

The boy stood before them, fists to hips, scowling in annoyance.
Legolas had to suppress a smile at his visible frustration. He felt
himself reminded of his own exchanges with some of his older
cousins. His mood dampened again. He had Elrond to blame  that he
himself had never known his oldest brother, and spent so precious
little time with his other one. He wondered at the fact that these
two cruel bastards he knew as his masters could act like loving
brothers  between themselves.

“Don't you think you can distract me with your squabbles!” the boy
protested loudly.”You promised when you went away that you would
tell me everything! You promised!!!”

Elladan grinned. Then he gave in. “Peace, little brother! Yes, we
besieged the Necromancer. It turned out it was really Sauron
himself, who dwelt there! Finally, we defeated him and chased him
away. It was a long, hard fight and a grim and costly battle, but
we won.  At last,  he fled away to his southern hidey-hole of
Mordor, and left his stronghold at Dol-Guldur behind. Afterwards,
we killed what remained of his creatures, and there were many!
Masses of trolls, wargs and Orcs. But we killed them! The wood
there is a safer place right now. Of course, given how long
Sauron's malice had time to take hold, it is still a very evil
place!”

Elrohir grinned, too. “But for now, the enemy has been conquered,
and mainly thanks to us. Of course, father and Glorfindel helped a
little!”

Elladan quirked a brow at his twin. “And so did  Grandmother, and
Daeradar(4), and Mithrandir, and Saruman, and Radagast, not to
mention the whole host of the Elves of Rivendell and Lothlorien,”
he added dryly.

Elrohir beamed at him. “Exactly! As I said, they helped a bit,” he
said unperturbed, “but we did most of the work, of course!”

The boy snorted. He cocked his head, fixing his glance on the
twins, and at that moment his hair fell to the side, revealing a
very round ear.

Legolas exhaled sharply. Mannish ears! The boy was human, not an
Elf! But how--?

The boy heard his hiss and looked up, and for the first time he
noticed the bound wrists of the strange Elf he had not registered
in his first excitement, and exclaimed in surprise: “You have a
prisoner!”

Then he surprised Legolas by performing a courteous bow in his
direction and greeting him seriously: “Suilad(5)! I am Estel
Elrondion. May I ask your name?!”

For a moment, Legolas was too surprised to answer. The twins
laughed. 

“He is a prisoner and slave, Estel,” Elladan said, “you do not need
to greet him courteously!”

Legolas flushed. Defiantly, he decided to reward the boy for his
kindness with equal courtesy. He returned the bow. 

“Mae govannen(6), Estel,” he said with his melodious voice. “I am
Legolas Thranduilion of Mirkwood. I am a hostage.”

Elrohir raised his brows and gave a slow smile. “Our Woodelf-Pet
seems to like our foster-brother, Elladan,” he said. “Even if he
tends to forget his manners!”

Legolas looked back at him, startled, and realized he had just
walked into a trap.

But the boy drew his brows together and asked puzzled: “Hostage?”
He looked questioningly between his brothers and the slave.

Elladan's face mirrored Elrohir's smile. “He is our new slave,” he
explained, “and he has just earned himself a punishment, because he
forgot he is forbidden to address anyone without permission.” 

Elrohir shrugged. “He is new, you see. We have been teaching him
manners, but he hasn't completely learned them, yet.”

Estel seemed puzzled. “He's a slave?” he repeated.

Elladan explained: “When we fought against Sauron, the cowardly
Mirkwood Elves failed to join in and offer their support. They let
us fight alone, although the matter of the infestation of their
wood with evil should be mainly their concern in the first place!
So after we defeated the Dark One, father decided to reestablish
his power as their overlord and took the army north. And as
compensation for their failure they had to give him slaves. Their
king offered up his own son just to avoid a harsher punishment! So
this one here is now our slave and property, although we have yet
to teach him proper manners.”

Elrohir cast the slave a dangerous smile. “But never fear, little
Pet, we will soon teach you better!” he threatened. 

The boy – Estel -drew his brows together, trying to process the
information. But Legolas had had enough. He knew he should keep his
mouth shut, he knew he would just earn himself another punishment,
but he could not help himself.
“That is not true!” he blurted out quietly, but heatedly. “My
people are no cowards!”

Both Elrohir and Elladan stared at him in utter amazement, as if
they just could not believe their ears. The still present Noldor
guards cast him sinister looks and shifted their weapons in their
hands. But Legolas had gone too far already  to stop now. He would
be punished anyway; better then to finish making his point.

“'Tis not true that we failed to fight at your side out of
cowardice,” he said. “We had to fight our own battle in the north
at the time against the Orcs who swarmed our wood and all the lands
around Erebor and Laketown in great numbers. It was a battle
against overwhelming odds, although we stood at the side of a host
of Dwarves and Men, and we lost many warriors there!”

Elladan still looked at him in amazement, but Elrohir gave a slow,
malicious smile. “Hear, Hear!” he said. “Our Pet has spirit, yet!
It seems he is not yet properly tamed!”

Elladan raised his brows. “I agree,” he said. “we will have to give
him our closest attention, then, tonight.” He turned to their
slave. “You still amaze me. You earned yourself another punishment,
and this is one you won't soon forget. You seem to develop a liking
for the whip, Woodelf-Pet!”

Legolas refused to answer. He knew it would probably worsen his
punishment, but he refused to beg them for a penance for defending
the honor of his people. Elladan and Elrohir were not in the habit
of taking their wrath at him out on the other hostages, as Elrond
would have done. As long they did whatever they planned to do to
him, he was ready to bear it.

Elladan shrugged and turned to Estel. “Do not believe his lies,” he
said harshly. “They fought their battle for jewels, not to repel a
threat. They only dared to leave their woods and go to Erebor
because shortly before a man had slain the dragon that dwelt there,
and they wished to secure a part of the treasure for themselves.
And they only stood against the Orcs because when the Orcs came to
Erebor in great numbers, doubtless also to squabble about the
treasures,  they advanced too fast for the Mirkwood Elves to
retreat without a battle.” He turned a cold glare to his slave. “As
I said, cowards!”

Legolas felt too drained to rise to the bait again. Besides, what
was the point? He knew the son of Elrond was lying through his
teeth, he knew the words were meant to provoke him so that he would
give them an excuse to punish him even further, and he knew he
could not win this fight, no matter what. So, he just refused to
give an answer.

Then he looked down at the boy. The young one scowled at him.

“I despise cowards!” Estel exclaimed and spat at the feet of
Legolas' horse. Then he turned around and ran away.

Legolas watched him go. He knew it had been too much to hope this
young one would be different than his foster brothers. He was still
raised by Lord Elrond after all.

So why did he suddenly feel so empty?


____________-o ______________


A few days later, Legolas was kneeling on the floor in the big
quarters of his new masters, where Elrohir and Elladan had left
him. He was cleaning their boots, several pairs of them, and
polishing them with grease, as he had been ordered. 

He was hurting all over from last night's latest round of abuse and
punishment. The twins had made good on their threat to teach him a
lesson he wouldn't forget for a while, and they had drawn it out
during the last few days. There was hardly a place on his back, his
ass and thighs, that did not hurt.

He looked up when he heard a noise, and there in the doorway stood
the boy he had met that first day in Rivendell. The young one
watched him carefully out of thoughtful grey eyes. His face was
inscrutable. He seemed curiously shy and shifted his position
uncomfortably.

Legolas was not supposed to address anyone without being addressed
first. And he was not about to let himself be baited in earning
another punishment. So he just waited for the boy to speak.

Finally, the boy came hesitantly closer. Without preamble, he said:
“I spoke with Glorfindel. He told me about you.”

Legolas raised a brow, but did not answer. The boy swallowed. 

“He told me of the battle your people fought against the Orcs.
While my foster-father attacked Dol-Guldur. He called it a great
battle and said it vanquished the Orcs in the north hopefully for a
long time.”

Legolas nodded, but did not reply. The boy studied him. He seemed
still very uncomfortable. 

“He said, father nevertheless demanded a honor-debt of your people,
because they failed to assist him in the fight against Sauron. And
that you gave yourself willingly into slavery in payment of that
debt to appease father's wrath.”

It sounded questioning. 

Legolas looked at the boy. Still he said nothing. He could have
argued that nobody invited the Mirkwood Elves to the attack on
Sauron's stronghold in the first place, probably  because neither
the Elves of Rivendell nor those of Lothlorien trusted their
subjected Mirkwood brothers not to take the opportunity to rebel or
to demand their freedom. But what was the point? He would just give
the brothers another excuse to torture him. 

Not that they needed any to do so if they were in the mood.

The boy still watched him intently. “Glorfindel says that this is a
honorable thing to do, that you gave yourself up to avert harsher
punishment from your people. He says I should respect you.”

For the first time since Estel had entered, Legolas spoke. Quietly
he said: “Lord Glorfindel is a noble Elf and a honorable warrior.”

Estel beamed at him. “Yes he is, isn't he? He is Glorfindel of
Gondolin, you know! He once slew a Balrog!”

Legolas nodded again, amused at the boy's hero-worship. He felt
himself reminded of his own reaction when he read that particular
story as a little Elfling. 

Estel hesitated again. Then he said seriously: “I am sorry I
sneered at you the other day. I was rash and unjust in my
judgment.” He stepped carefully closer. “My apologies.”

Legolas stared at him in complete disbelief. Then he decided that
the boy – unbelievably, but nevertheless obviously – meant it.
Obviously, this one was very different from his foster-brothers. 

He took a deep breath.

“Thank you,” he offered, and gave the boy a solemn and serious bow,
“your apology is accepted, Estel Elrondion. I am grateful.” After a
moment, he added: “You are gracious!”

The boy blushed. “Call me Estel, please,” he said. “Everybody
does.” Then he added after another moment of hesitation: “I would
like it... if you were willing... I would like you to be my
friend.”

Legolas looked at him in amazement. Carefully, he answered: “I am
the slave of your brothers...”

Estel shrugged. “Aye, I know. So you will probably spent a lot of
time in Rivendell,” he said. “We could do a lot of things together.
I could show you your new home. I know all the good places.”

Legolas blinked. If he remembered correctly from his own time as
Elfling, 'all the good places' were either ones where you were not
supposed to go, or those you were at least not supposed to go alone
without an adult. Or  places that would never appeal to any adult
since they were cramped, dusty and hard to reach. He fought a
smile. The boy was serious; he deserved a serious answer.

Besides, Estel sounded so very hopeful, and a little lost. Legolas
asked himself how many playmates the boy might  have. While his own
people still had many Elflings because they needed to fill the
losses left by Orc raids or hostages   given to the other Elven
realms, he had heard that in the other Elven realms people had
stopped  reproducing  for a long time now.

Slowly and very seriously, he said: “I would like that very much,
Estel. I will be honored to be your friend, as much as my duties to
your brothers permit it.”

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile. The boy nodded once, then
turned around. “Let's go, then!” he exclaimed. After a moment,
though, he noticed that Legolas did not follow.

He turned around again. “What are you waiting for?”

Legolas shook his head. “I have been ordered to clean your
brother's boots,” he said, “and I need their permission if I want
to go with you.”

Estel scowled, and Legolas looked down, disappointed. He set the
finished boot he had been working on away and reached for the next
one. His back ached, and he made a grimace.

Estel hesitated. “You are hurt,” he stated in sudden understanding.
“Did they beat you much?”

Wordlessly, Legolas nodded. Estel bit his lips. 

Then he nodded. „All right, then! Let me talk to my brothers! I am
sure they will agree to 'lend' you to me; they will be glad if I do
not pester them for a while!” He smiled mischievously. “Afterwards,
we can go and I can show you around, if you like!”

Legolas looked at him in amazement and felt his heart go out to the
boy. “Thank you, Estel,” he said in a heartfelt tone. 

The boy smiled at him and turned to run to his brothers. Legolas
watched his retreat. 

Very hesitantly, he allowed himself to dare to hope again. / //


Legolas smiled again, slowly withdrawing his mind from the memory.
Half an hour later Estel had returned with Elladan, and after the
twin determined that it had been Estel's idea, not Legolas', to
steal the slave away from his normal duties for the day, Legolas
had been given a most serious warning that should *anything* happen
to Estel, not only he but all the other hostages would pay for it
dearly. And afterwards he and the boy were off together. At the end
of the day, though completely exhausted, Legolas had seen the
kitchens, Estel's rooms, the training grounds, the gardens, the
stables and even Estel's most favorite places in the woods and at
the waterfalls.  Though he still hurt from the traces of the
beating he had received the night before, by talking to the boy and
listening to his endless chatter about such normal and important
things as slaying dragons, angering the crows, teasing squirrels,
exploring caves, stealing from the cook and doing everything else
you did when you were an eleven-years-old human boy (or you had
done once at the time  when you had been a seventeen-years-old
Elfling), Legolas had started to laugh and feel alive again. 

Nor had it ended there, because Estel afterwards 'adopted' the new
Elven slave of his brothers and 'borrowed' him as often as he
could, until they spent nearly every amount of free time Estel had
together.  A year later, Estel wheedled permission from his
brothers with a little help of Glorfindel to let Legolas teach him
the bow, effectively giving his Elven friend the joy of rekindling
his skill with that weapon. Whenever Legolas would train his own
skills with the weapon, Estel watched him and beamed as if he had
shot every hit himself. And even later Legolas was allowed to
accompany Estel on his first longer hunting trips and explorations
of the forest. They became nearly inseparable, whenever Elrohir and
Elladan did not demand their slave's services. 

Even those services got easier to bear with time, since the twins
found that they were at a loss to explain to their curious young
brother why Legolas so often had to move so stiffly and hurt at
funny places. While they would simply tell Estel that Legolas was
unavailable this week when they wished to play harsher games, they
found that their little brother was curious and crafty enough to
try and work around that, since he believed his enslaved friend was
simply 'grounded'. So they saw themselves forced to tame down the
bed-games most of the time. They even began to take Estel's
feelings for their slave into consideration in the way they treated
Legolas. They did not want to hurt their little brother by injuring
his beloved companion. They even defended the whole development of
Legolas' and Estel's friendship and of their  changed attitude
towards their slave to Elrond.

And since both twins were in the habit of taking long expeditions
away from Rivendell to hunt Orcs, and did not yet dare to take
their slave with them on those since Legolas *with* a weapon was a
danger, and *without* one a liability, Estel and Legolas indeed had
a lot of undisturbed time together. In those times, Glorfindel was
the one who fed the spell for the slave, although the Noldor Lord
loathed the necessity, though he never complained or let his dismay
out on Legolas. 

Legolas remained Estel's faithful shadow and trusted friend until
the time Estel began his first, fumbling and awkward explorations
into sexuality. Then, their relationship got a bit awkward, and
soon afterwards it transformed itself into much more. But by then,
Legolas would gladly have given his life and soul for this boy –
and the young man he had grown into – and count himself blessed to
do so anyway.

Until Elrond succeeded in ruining even that beyond repair.

Legolas gaze searched and found the dark lump in the camp that was
the form of his sleeping master. He felt as if he would drown in
his torn feelings. It had been Estel who had given him hope and had
protected him, had called him back to life again and finally had
taught him to love. It had been as if he had found shelter from a
nightmare.

*And now, the man who once had been that boy who made him live
again was about to throw him back into his old nightmare! Once
again he was to become the unwilling bed-toy of anyone who pleased
to take him and who gained his master's permission to do so!*


Legolas cried, helplessly and desperately. He made no attempt to
stop the tears,  simply huddling deeper against the tree trunk.
Finally – it felt like hours, but probably it had been only minutes
- the tears subsided and he tried to compose himself again. 

He hooked his arms around his knees, rocking slightly, fighting the
threatening tears. Harshly, he reminded himself that Aragorn very
likely was not aware of what he truly demanded of his slave. There
was an important point to consider. A point he needed to remember,
he must not forget.

*Estel did not know.*

He did not know what happened to Legolas during these first few
month directly after his enslavement, did not know what Legolas had
been through before he came to Rivendell and became his friend.
Estel met him first when Legolas had already become the exclusive
property  of his brothers. And since Estel had been just eleven
years old at that time, the twins had never told him the whole
tale. Instead they had carefully kept the sordid details from the
boy. 

And later, during the many nights of nightmares when Estel had
patiently held Legolas until the Elf's trembling ceased again,
Legolas had mostly refused afterwards to give him details of what
exactly those dreams had been about. And Estel, generous as he was
most of the times when he was not playing his games, had let him
keep his secrets. 

All Aragorn had ever heard from him and others were some hints that
Elrond had lent the Mirkwood Elf out to others now and then before
he had been given to the twins, and later to Aragorn as slave.
Legolas was not sure if Estel had not learned some more about this
time during their first visit in Lothlorien; there had been that
incident when Haldir had nurtured a broken jaw a week or two after
trying to talk Aragorn into sharing his slave and bragging that he
already had tasted him once. At least the fight had been enough to
make it clear to everyone whom the slave belonged to now, and that
his owner would not share, and afterwards Legolas had thankfully
been left alone. Haldir had even made a truce of sorts with
Aragorn, since the Adan had earned his respect with his blow.

When Aragorn had asked Legolas about Haldir's bragging afterwards,
the Elf had just told him that it had happened when he was first
enslaved, before he had been given to Aragorn, and that Elrond had
given him to Haldir for a night as a reward. It was not exactly a
lie, but he had also not disclosed the whole tale. 

Even so, it had been enough to appease his master. Legolas did not
know how much of the story Haldir had told Aragorn, or how much
Aragorn had learned from other Elves, but from his master's
behaviour afterwards he had guessed that it could not have been
much.  And Aragorn had never asked him for more details of the tale
since.

No, Aragorn had no way of really understanding why Legolas loathed
it so much to have to share himself with others than his master,
and what the decision to keep the bargain of sharing Legolas with
Boromir meant for his slave. He probably thought the whole affair
nothing more than the deal he had once made with his two closest
confidants among the Rangers, Halbarad and Onogdir, second and
third in command among the Dunedain, 

That had been during heir fifth year among the Rangers.  Aragorn
had been very seriously wounded in a fight with wargs; the wounds
were nearly fatal, and he had been dangling between life and death
for weeks. There was no way  he would have been capable of feeding
the spell. In those rare moments when Aragorn woke from his fever
and was clear, he had commanded Legolas to leave his side and
return to Rivendell, but Legolas had outright refused to obey. He
would not leave his side, keeping watch and taking care of him
until he was exhausted. They had argued. Legolas had told Aragorn
that he was welcome to punish him if he survived, but to do that he
should please focus on surviving. No argument nor threat had
managed to send him away. When Legolas began to show serious signs
of withdrawal, Aragorn had been positively desperate.

Of course, Aragorn knew - and Legolas rightly argued - that Elrond
and the twins would refuse to save Legolas anyway if he came back
to Rivendell without Estel, having left his master badly wounded
and probably dying; and even Glorfindel might have had second
thoughts under such circumstances. Yet that did not pacify
Aragorn's desperation. 
He feared his slave would die on him even if he finally recovered.
And indeed, it had been close.

In the end, what saved Legolas' life was a chance visit of Elrohir
and Elladan to the Rangers. As soon as the twins   learned what
happened they had smoothly taken control of the situation. One had
taken the already severely suffering Legolas to bed, the other had
dedicated himself to assist in Estel's healing, and they took turns
in that until Legolas and Estel both were out of danger. They
allowed the slave back to the bedside of his master only after
Legolas was completely recovered. When Aragorn was healed, they
shared the slave with him a few times more for old times sakes and
as a kind of 'payment' for their troubles before they left again.

As soon as they had left, Aragorn took Halbarad and Onogdir into
his confidence and extended the spell to them. Legolas had loathed
it, but he had been unable to deny Aragorn's logic that they could
not risk anything like that  happening again, and that Aragorn
needed to know Legolas was safe and had someone to fall back to
among the Rangers even when his master  could not take care of him
himself. 

Legolas stared through the leafless branches of the tree into the
fading night. 

Yes, he had loathed it at first then, too, and later he had learned
to accept it. But there was a difference. Halbarad always treated
Legolas as a comrade and a friend. Whenever Legolas was forced to
lie with him, be it because Aragorn was absent or otherwise
hindered to feed the spell, he treated it as two warriors giving
each other comfort and joy in friendship and respect.  He never
simply used Legolas for his pleasure. Of course, Halbarad also
fancied him and had joked once or twice already that if Aragorn
ever would give him up  - or if the Elf ever wanted to leave their
chief - Legolas would be welcome to join Halbarad's bedding for
good. Most of the times, he made those jokes well in Aragorn's
earshot, and they were nothing more than good-natured teasing.
Halbarad would never treat the Elf just as a whore.

And Onogdir, while not that welcoming, treated sharing his bedding
with the Elf simply like necessity, a kind of medical treatment on
the rare occasions Legolas had found himself in need to turn to
him. Onogdir did not like Legolas that much - nor did he like
*Aragorn*, as a matter of fact - but he never treated him other
than he would treat a free warrior, either.

Neither of them would ever dream of taking the slave to bed just to
feed their pleasure, or seeing him simply as a pleasure-boy.

*But Boromir would do that.* 

And Aragorn did not see the difference, or if he saw it he probably
thought it a mere detail and unimportant.

No, Aragorn had no true idea what his command did to his slave. He
couldn't. 

He just wanted to keep him safe.

Legolas sighed and stared into the now increasingly brightening
sky. Dawn was near. It was time for him to end his musings.

Stretching his limbs and forcefully composing himself, he thanked
the tree for its support, then he got up and climbed down again.

It was time for him to wake the Fellowship.


______________ o ______________


-- End of Chapter VI a--

-- To be continued in CHAPTER VI b - PART II - “Keeping The
Bargain”


Notes:

(1) In this chapter I am diverging from both Book-and Movie-canon
concerning the time frame. Bookverse, the Fellowship left Rivendell
on December the 25th, reached Eregion (or Hollin) on January the
8th, the Pass of Caradhras three days later on January the 11th and
the Walls of Moria   at January the 12th. They were traveling for
twenty days until they reached the mines.  Movieverse, the time
frame is the same, only happening two month earlier. But for my
purposes, I need the Fellowship a few days longer  in Eregion until
they try to pass Caradhras.  So they are abroad at least 25 days
until they reach the mines. Please bear with me!

Also, one of my reviewers has brought to my attention that I have
been less than clear about how long exactly Legolas has been
enslaved. I hope this will become clearer in this chapter, but for
the record, here goes: in this story, Legolas was first enslaved
shortly after the Battle of the Five Armies; this means he was
enslaved TA December 2941  or January 2942, probably the latter.
The exact date is unclear; but it must have happened after Gandalf
and Bilbo had arrived in  Beorn's Halls on December the 30th TA
2941 on their return route from Erebor and Mirkwood, and stayed
there for the winter, because Bilbo was not aware of anything amiss
when he arrived in Rivendell again in Mai TA 2942, and had not
heard the tale. Legolas came to Rivendell probably in March TA
2942. At this point in time, Aragorn, then called Estel (born March
the 1th in TA 2931) was just eleven years old. Legolas was given to
Aragorn as his slave nine years later, when Aragorn came of age in
March TA 2951. At the time of this story (TA 3018), Legolas has
been enslaved for 76 years and he has been in Aragorn's exclusive
possession for 67 of these. I apologize for the confusion! 

 (2) elleth – Sindarin: Elf woman

 (3) Elves reach physical maturity between fifty and a hundred
years  according to Tolkien's essay „Laws and customs of the Eldar
“, History of Middle Earth Tome X (Morgoth's Ring) pp. 207-214,
here especially page 210. They come sooner to the mastery of their
bodies than human children, but stay in childhood longer. With the
age a human would reach his or her full height – about eighteen- an
Elf would still look like a child of seven. Therefore I estimate
that an Elfling just short of the beginning of adolescence would be
around seventeen, and about forty he would be the equivalent of a
mortal teenager of sixteen or seventeen. If Estel was Elrond's
natural child, he would be an Halfelf (Sindarin: Peredhel), and
develop like one. 

 (4) Daeradar – Sindarin: Grandfather. The grandfather of the twins
is Celeborn, and Galadriel is their grandmother.

 (5) Suilad – Sindarin: Greeting (to you). Estel Elrondion –
Sindarin: Hope, son of Elrond.

 (6) Mae govannen – Sindarin: Well met!