Title: Ai, Aniron…. 
Author: Red Autumn (red_autumn21@yahoo.com)
Pairing(s): Legolas/Elrond, Legolas/Boromir, Glorfindel/Thranduil (implied),
Aragorn/Faramir (implied)
Rating: ‘R’, Romance, Rape, Angst, Violence, Dark Thoughts. (AU)
Summary: Revenge?  What will happen after all the troubles from ‘Unwilling 
Consort’?
Warning: There is no happy ending in this sequel.  Three of your favourite 
characters will die in the end.  So I warn you first before you take the bow and 
arrows, and starts using me as target practise.
Disclaimer	: Mr. Tolkien Sr. is the true creator of this wonderful world called 
Middle-Earth.  I only wish I could live in it.


NOTE:  Just to let you know, most of the contents from Part 1 – 8 were the same 
as the original version except that it’s now betaed.  Part 9 was the only new 
chapter because many readers had wanted me to add the Mandos scene.  After 
almost a year, I’ve finally fulfilled that request.  Thank you so very much for waiting 
so patiently for me to finish this.  : )

Also, I would like to express my greatest gratitude to my very fast working beta-
reader ~ Anu.  : )


PART 1

Summer was always so hot in Gondor, unlike Mirkwood, which had protection from 
the vast forest, and Rivendell from hundreds of waterfalls regulating the 
temperature.  It was also a time of the cicada-mating season; their raucous calls, 
echoing all over the forest.

Normally elves were not easily affected by the weather but last night, Legolas had 
had to sleep without the covers.  Even though the window was left wide open, no 
breeze blew to bring in the fresh, cool air.  The bedchamber had been, and was 
still stuffy.

The Prince thought of taking off all his clothing but decided just his undershirt only 
as he did not want Elrond to suffer unnecessarily when he came in the morning to 
wake him up.  The Lord of Rivendell had given his word to King Thranduil that he 
would not touch his son until he has formally passed his coming-of-age initiation.

A year had passed and in that time Lord Elrond had patiently helped Legolas to 
overcome his grief.  It had been very difficult at first as depression and nightmares 
overwhelmed the Prince most of the time.  He had lost so much weight that Elrond 
was sure the young elf would fade away into nothingness.

The elven healer stayed with the young Prince in his bedchamber for almost three 
months, getting as much rest as possible from a big, padded chair before he finally 
had his own room and a proper bed to sleep in.  It was a relief for everyone to see 
that the young elf was slowly coming out of his depressed moods.

Lord Celeborn had left after staying for a month in the excellent hospitality of 
Gondor.  A month later, the twins left, not wanting to stay away for too long, 
leaving poor Lord Erestor in-charge of everything by himself.  Glorfindel had 
wanted to stay back to look after his lord but Elrond would not have it.  He wanted 
the blond eldar to keep an eye on the nuisance twins.

Four months ago, King Thranduil finally decided to go home to Mirkwood after he 
was satisfied that his son would be left in good hands.  The young elf had been 
reluctant to let his ada go after spending so much time together.  His ada had been 
supportive and encouraged his son to trust others again.

King Thranduil himself had persuaded his son that he would benefit tremendously 
by staying with his betrothed.  Elrond was surprised to hear this from Thranduil’s 
own lips but he was glad that the Golden King trusted him fully.

As befitting a proud king who loved the grandeur and being the centre of attention, 
he left the White Tower City through a grand parade and a full escort from the 
royal guards to the border of Gondor.  King Aragorn had personally organised it.

It was a tearful parting but Legolas soon forgot about his sadness.  Under the 
healer’s tireless attention, the young one soon found new amusement.

The Prince was constantly kept busy with archery, riding, swimming and many 
other adventures.  If the elven Lord were not an elf himself, he would have passed 
out from exhaustion.  His lover was a bundle of energy.  Inwardly, Elrond could not 
wait for Legolas to pass his majority because he would make full use of that 
energy on something more pleasurable.  That thought had often brought a naughty 
smile to his face.

As usual Lord Elrond would sneak into Legolas’ room in the morning and give him 
a pleasant wake up.  Often it would go as far as only a passionate kiss but this 
morning, the elven Lord could not help himself when he saw the love of his life 
asleep in a provocative position.

The Prince was lying on his stomach, his bare back facing the door.  The small 
taut buttocks were slightly raised by a knee that he had tucked underneath his 
belly.

Elrond could not tear his eyes away.  He stared at the delicious backside of his 
love, tempting him.  It made his member hard just gazing at it.

Silently he glided over to the sleeping form and slid a hand over the lower thigh 
and reached for the forbidden fruit half-hidden from his view.  Legolas immediately 
tensed at the contact and it made the half-elf feel guilty for startling his love like 
that.

“Shhhh….my sweet.  It is only me, Elrond,” he whispered in an assuring tone.  The 
voice seemed to have an effect because the muscles relaxed immediately.

Elrond seized the opportunity to rub the bulge in the other’s leggings further.  Soft 
moans of pleasure broke the silence of the morning.  Legolas started to turn and 
lay on his back instead.

Encouraged by the look on his lover’s face, Elrond administered more pressure 
and was soon rewarded with an even louder moan.  The lithe form began to writhe 
seductively, his long legs rubbing and caressing each other sensually.  Boldly, 
Elrond bent down to lick a pink nipple with his expert tongue, sending explicit 
shockwaves of joy in the Prince’s body.

“Please Elrond.  Don’t torture me anymore.”  Legolas’ whispers were barely 
audible under the moans.

“Well, my love.  I have been tortured enough by you every morning.  It’s time I 
have some fun,” purred the Lord of Imladris.

Legolas shifted his head slightly and stared at his love, his eyes dark with lust.  
Heightened by passion he bucked his hips into his lover’s hand to draw more 
touches.

“Elrond………” mewled the Prince.

Smiling predatorily, Elrond crushed his mouth into the juicy pink lips and chewed 
them hungrily.  The contact made Legolas sink deeper into the throes of passion.
How the Lord of Imladris yearned for this pair of lips to pleasure him in everyway.  
He made a mental note that as soon as Legolas passed his majority, he would 
teach the young one just how to use those lips to the full extend.

Unable to torture his love any longer, Elrond slipped his hand into the leggings and 
grabbed the hard shaft.  His hand moved faster as he sensed Legolas nearing his 
peak.  The blond elf grabbed Elrond and hugged him tightly as his body spasm 
and jets of warm nectar filled his lover’s hand.

Finally when Legolas stopped trembling, Elrond took out his hand and licked it 
clean.

“Hhmmm……you taste so sweet, my love.”  Legolas gave him a weak smile.

Elrond then climbed on to the bed and stayed closed together in a tight embrace.

“Elrond, how would you like me to …..,”

“It is all right, my love.  Thank you for being so considerate.  I just want to stay 
close to you now.”

“I love you, Elrond,” murmured Legolas from within the fold of his embrace.

“I love you too Legolas, with all my heart,” whispered the elven Lord and he kissed 
the golden crown.  He ran a hand through the silky hair, relishing the feel.  The 
fresh scent of pinecones wafted to his nostrils from the blonde depths.  He closed 
his eyes and tried to imprint the scent into his mind.

There were so many things about Legolas that Elrond would like to keep locked in 
his memories.  Moments such as the furious beating of his heart after coming, 
every hot breath against his skin, the softness of him, the warmth of his body and 
the moans of pleasure sung only for his ears.

His little Legolas, so vulnerable yet so spirited.  He looked forward to spending 
their lives together forever.


~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~


PART 2

Aragorn stared blankly ahead of him.  His mind was playing the scenes of happier 
moments with Legolas.  He couldn’t help it.  The sight of the ethereal beauty 
standing by the window staring back at him – that was the one moment he would 
never forget and intended to carry it with him to the Hall of Mandos.

It kept popping into his mind whenever he has a few moments to spare – moments 
that he cherished lovingly.  It also kept his mind sane, after what had happened.

 ~ The golden hair shone from lights that bounced on it, the pale unblemished skin 
glowing from within, the piercing blue eyes, the tantalizing lips, the perfect chiseled 
face and finally the melodious voice floating in his mind. ~

Such a wonderful image, it was almost godlike.

Suddenly a knock on the door jerked him out of his daydreaming.  He let out a sigh 
– another problem to tackle.  These were one of the moments he wished he was a 
ranger again.

“Come in,” Aragorn answered.

The door opened and a handsome young man with light brown hair stepped in.  He 
stopped halfway across the room and looked nervously at the King.

“Faramir.  What’s wrong?”  A frown appeared on Aragorn’s face adding more lines 
to the rugged features.

“It’s about your brother, Elrohir,” answered Faramir tentatively.

“What about him?”  Worry began to creep into Aragorn.

“An elf messenger from Rivendell had just arrived.  Elladan had sent an urgent 
message to inform you that Elrohir is missing, probably kidnapped but he doesn’t 
know by whom.”

Aragorn was taken aback.  The first thing that came into his mind was orcs but 
then it did not make any sense.  Elrohir was an accomplished warrior.  Even if they 
overwhelmed him, surely there would be bodies strewn about on the forest floor.  
No elves would go willingly without a ferocious fight.

“Prepare the horses.  I will go with Lord Elrond.  Tell Steward Bergon to meet me 
at the front.  I have instructions for him.”  Faramir nodded and immediately dashed 
out of the office to look for the new Steward of Gondor, followed closely by Aragorn 
who headed to the opposite direction.

At this time in the morning, Aragorn was sure his foster father would be in Legolas’ 
bedchamber.  Numerous times he had caught the Lord of Imladris going there.  It 
made him severely jealous but he admonished himself for such thoughts.

Legolas was now betrothed to Elrond and he must accept that.  Besides, he was 
only a mortal.  How could he be so selfish in leaving the lovable elf to suffer an 
eternity of loneliness after he dies of old age?

As he stood in front of the door, he was unsure if he could bear seeing them 
together, wrapped tightly around each other.  His heart felt heavy and confused at 
the same time as he wondered what exactly to do.

“Come in, Aragorn,” said a voice from behind the door.  It was not a surprise for 
him that the elves had such keen sense of hearing.  Steeling his heart, he opened 
the door.

Throughout his life as a ranger, he had seen the worst and nothing could shock 
him but he never suspected that such an innocent display could affect him so 
deeply.

Elrond was seated, his back propped against the headboard while Legolas’ head 
was on his lap, still sound asleep.  His foster father had wrapped a hand 
possessively around his lover’s back while the other gently stroked the smooth 
forehead.

The half-elf watched his son intently.  He knew how much it troubled the young 
King just to enter the chamber and see them together.  Aragorn was suffering from 
a broken heart but he was not too worried about it because men do not die easily 
from grief, unlike elves.  In fact, his foster son had been keeping himself extra busy 
just to avoid them as much as possible.

Pulling his eyes away hesitantly from the sleeping beauty, Aragorn met his father’s 
gaze.  He was grateful that Elrond did not look at him with contempt.

“A messenger just arrived from Rivendell,” Aragorn started.

Lord Elrond’s heart raced immediately when he heard the urgency in his son’s 
voice.  Something must be terribly wrong if Aragorn was to come personally 
looking for him.  It must not be easy for him but it was deemed important enough to 
deliver the message himself.

“Elrohir is missing, probably kidnapped but they do not know who did it.”

This news distressed Elrond greatly.  He knew how much it must have hurt 
Thranduil when he found out that his youngest son was kidnapped but the impact 
was much more when he was now the receiver of that news.  He could guess how 
lost and helpless Elladan must feel right now.

Legolas sat up.  He had woken silently when he heard Aragorn’s voice.

“I’ve instructed Faramir to prepare the horses.  We can leave within the hour,” 
added Aragorn, reading his father’s mind.

“Thank you Aragorn,” answered Lord Elrond finally when the shock wore off.  
“Legolas, you will have to take care of yourself while I am away.  It is safer if you 
stay here.”

“No!” snapped Legolas.  It shocked the elf Lord by the anger in his voice.  “I am 
coming with you.”

“But melme….” he could not continue arguing anymore as he looked into the face 
in front of him.  The huge blue eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.  Elrond was 
stumped by the way the Prince had clung to him.

“No, Elrond.  Don’t leave me here alone.  Please?” Legolas pleaded.

It made Aragorn winced inside to hear the voice pleading so vulnerably.  
Sometimes he thought he saw only a child in the golden Prince.

“All right Legolas but you must stay close to me,” Elrond relented at last.  
“Whoever or whatever managed to get Elrohir must be very powerful and 
intelligent.  I cannot bear to loose you, melme.  Promise me?” 

“I promise,” answered Legolas, a wide smile graced his face.  The elven Lord 
smiled in return and ran the back of his hand on his lover’s soft cheek.

“Good.  Aragorn, how many of us are riding now?”  The question broke the King 
out of his trance.  He had been absorbed, watching the Prince.

“I will take two men with me so they can accompany me back to Gondor after all of 
this is over.  Lindel and Tuse are still here so they will come along.  With Legolas, 
that makes seven of us.  With such a big group it should discourage any attempts 
along the way.”

“I agree.  Let’s start preparing then,” said Elrond as he swung his legs over the 
bed.

Aragorn nodded and left hurriedly.  He did not want to stay any longer than 
necessary.  Legolas was too distracting.

“Melme, I’m very worried about you.  I am sure you realise that we are going back 
to the place you’ve run away from.  Are you sure you can face them?”

Legolas was silent for a moment.  “I’m stronger now and besides you will be there 
beside me,” answered the Prince finally.

“Not always.  Sometimes I may be called away for some special reasons.  Do you 
think you can handle that?”  Elrond frowned.

“I think so,” Legolas answered quietly.
“Oh melme, I hope I’m doing the right thing to let you come along,” said the half-elf 
Lord worriedly.

“Fate brought us together and fate will decide what happens to us.  But no matter 
what I will love you with all my heart,” the Prince pledged sincerely.

Elrond was deeply touched by his love’s pledge.  He held him in his arms and 
kissed him soundly.


~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~


PART 3

Riding was one of Legolas’ passions beside archery.  He loved to spur his horse, a 
white stallion of direct descendent from Oropher’s infamous stallion – Avari, to 
gallop to its limit.  It was a joy to both the wood elf and the horse to leave the dust 
and dead leaves flying behind them in a cloud.  He also loved to feel his long hair 
whip wildly behind him and using his skills to dodge and jump, avoiding any 
obstacles at the very last moment.

With the sky above him and the earth below him, freedom came naturally to him.  It 
was the feeling of this freedom that lifted the young Prince’s heart, pushing his 
grief further away behind him; hopefully like the dusts that he stirred with Rynal.  
Like a twin soul, the horse sensed such a need in his ‘friend’ and obligingly gave 
him that satisfaction.

At first his recklessness worried Elrond to no end but after seeing the Prince ride a 
few times, it seemed that the elf and horse were one, both enjoying the wild 
tramping and irrational behaviour.  He knew of one other elf who shared the same 
passion and behaviour, another golden elf with blue eyes living in Mirkwood.

Soon the Lord of Imladris learned to laugh at their antics and he too, joined them, 
though a bit less recklessly.  To see the spirited Prince so relaxed and cheerful 
was a blessing to the older elf.

For the past two hours, the elves rode ahead with Legolas leading and Elrond 
following closely behind.  The elves seemed to have a knack to coax their horses 
to do things for them that no one else could.  Sadly, no one understood the fact 
that it was the free will of the horses that gave the elves such joy in riding.

As for the humans, they had a tough time catching up, as they were not used to it 
except Aragorn.  Growing up among elves had taught him a lot.  Nevertheless, he 
did not join them and leave his comrades behind.

Mercifully, the elves had been patiently slowing down a lot to let the humans catch 
up.  It was important that they stayed close while riding through treacherous 
territory.

Suddenly Legolas’ keen eyes caught something thrown across the dirt road.  He 
tried to stop his horse but it could no halt fast enough.  The young elf succeeded in 
trying to dodge the first obstacle but did not manage the second one.  His fast 
forward momentum caused his upper body to pull the ropes along with him until it 
became too taut and finally flung him backwards.  He flew through the air, his arms 
flailing and landed on the hard ground with a loud thud.

All air flushed out of his lungs on the impact.  At the same time, pain shot through 
his body and ended in a blinding explosion as the back of his head smacked to the 
dusty floor, stirring a cloud of yellowish dust swirling around him.

A groan escaped his lips, as he lay dazed.  When air began to fill his lungs again, 
he let out a weak cough.  His neck hurt badly.  Within moments, Lord Elrond was 
by his side.  The half-elf’s face was pale from shock.

“Legolas!” he cried.  “Can you hear me?” he examined the pupils to determine if he 
had any internal head injuries.  The Prince could not speak or respond to him in 
anyway.  He just stared blankly ahead of him.

Right at that very moment a harsh cry pierced through the air.  Elrond looked up in 
time to see one of his elves, Lindel, slump forward and fall off his horse as it came 
to a stop near them.

Apparently preoccupied to get to the Prince, he had failed to notice that an arrow 
slicing through the air straight for him.  When he hit the ground, his body rolled 
face forward revealing an arrow struck through his heart.

“Lindel,” gasped Elrond, stunned.

His companion immediately let fly an arrow to the direction of their hidden enemy.  
It must have hit its target for a cry sounded from somewhere in the forest.

Tuse ran towards his Lord and used his body to cover him should any more arrows 
come in his direction.  Without stalling, he continuously shot more arrows into the 
dark underbrush and more cries emitted from the forest.

The half-elf Lord could not run for cover immediately.  He had to rely on Tuse to 
protect him as he frantically shoved his hands underneath the Prince and carried 
him in his arms to safety.

The three men heard and saw what happened.  They rode faster to give help to 
their companions but were driven back as arrows rained down on them.  One of 
the men was struck on his shoulder.

“Eoas, ride back to Minas Tirith and get help!” shouted Aragorn.  The rider he had 
addressed seemed hesitant to go away as he felt it was his duty to protect his 
King.

“Now, Eoas!” Aragorn barked and he helped his downed guard away from danger.

The black haired rider turned his horse towards Minas Tirith and prodded it to go 
as fast as it could.  Anxiousness and fear filled his mind and heart, as he did not 
want to leave the King unprotected.

A fast inspection revealed that the injured guard did not seem to be in any 
immediate danger.  Useless at the moment, the King ordered him to stay back 
while he tried to get to the elves.

Unfortunately it was too late.

Aragorn watched helplessly as Tuse was struck on the chest twice and an arrow 
imbedded itself in his stomach.  The elf held as long as he could so that Lord 
Elrond could get away before he crumpled to his knees and fell face first.  His 
weapons lay scattered beside him.

“Oh, Tuse.  Not you too.”  Aragorn could not believe his eyes by the scene 
unfolding in front of him.

Dodging the arrows as best he could, Elrond tried to run towards his foster son.  
Arrows continued raining down on them, separating the elves and men from each 
other.

Unlike the other horses, Rynal was special for one reason.  His loyalty.  Knowing 
the danger descending upon his ‘friend’, it sacrificed itself by running behind the 
Lord of Imladris, covering his back.  Many arrows landed on his flanks and belly.

Neighing in pain, it kept going until all strength was gone and it too collapsed.  
When the final breath left its body, Rynal had believed that it had kept the Prince 
out of harm’s way.  That most valiant sight sent tears streaming down Aragorn’s 
cheeks.

However, the trouble was not yet over.

Stumbling awkwardly and running blindly without protection while carrying Legolas, 
Elrond prayed to the Valar that he could make it out of the arrows deadly range.  It 
seemed that their enemy were intent on killing anyone who moved.

As he looked down to check on the injured elf, he noticed that the young Prince 
had closed his eyes.  He became alarmed.

“Hold on melme.  We’ll be soon out of danger.  I will protect you,” whispered the 
dark haired Lord.  Suddenly a sharp pain hit his left thigh causing him to stumble 
slightly almost dropping his precious bundle to the ground.

“Father!”  Elrond heard his foster son called.

“I will make it.  I must protect Legolas.  Just a few more steps,” mumbled the half-
elf to himself.

One step at a time, he struggled bravely while his injured leg sent shooting pain up 
his back.  Then another arrow shot past, narrowly imbedding into his upper arm.  It 
only grazed the muscled flesh but was enough for him to loose his hold on the 
young elf.  Both fell to the ground together.

Seeing Elrond get up unsteadily, Aragorn decided to risk running towards them.  
Unsheathing Anduril, he took a deep breath and started to run.

A new threat appeared in the form of men rushing towards them in two groups.  
While five of them distracted the ex-ranger who tried to fend them off with his 
sword, the other four men surrounded the elves.  Three of them started attacking 
Elrond who was barely able to keep them at bay with his own elven sword that he 
had drawn out quickly.

However, fatigue and loss of blood drained his ability to defend both of them.  He 
knew that if Aragorn did not get to them soon, they would both be dead.

Unbeknownst to Elrond, while his concentration was drawn away by the three 
men, the fourth crept up behind him and hit him so hard on the back of his head 
that blood streamed out from the open wound.  The elf Lord staggered for a mere 
moment before he crumpled to the ground, next to Legolas.

Working quickly, they carried the two elves just into the forest where four other 
horsemen waited for them.  One reached out and grabbed Legolas to place him in 
front of him.  The other did the same to Lord Elrond.  Holding tightly, they galloped 
away deeper into the forest without leaving a trail.

“Father!  Hold on.  I’m coming!”  Aragorn knew it was useless.  He knew he would 
never get to them in time.

Just as Aragorn had managed to kill three of the men, the other two began to 
retreat and ran away.  Then he heard a group of horses galloping away deeper 
into the dark forest.

“Come back you bastards!  Father!  Legolas!” cried Aragorn helplessly but no one 
answered him.  For the second time he had failed Legolas and now his father too.

Feeling weak and useless, his knees collapsed on to the ground, followed by his 
palms.  In frustration, he screamed out.  His voice resonated throughout the forest.  
Tears flooded his eyes in torrents.  His fingers dug into the dirt, stirring a light mist 
of sands flying.

Revenge would come very sweetly to whoever tried to take ‘his elves’ away.  
Aragorn the ranger would personally hunt them down and then Anduril will do the 
rest.


~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~


PART 4

Elrond cracked open his eyes but found his vision fuzzy.  Closing his eyes while 
unconscious was a bad sign, especially for an elf.  He briefly wondered how long 
he had been out cold.

Aches and stiffness began to invade his mind and body as his senses awakened.  
The pounding at the back of his head reminded him where he was rendered 
helpless.  He moved his hand, wanting to touch his face, to rub away the fog from 
his eyes only to find he was unable to.

He was not surprised to find himself standing spread-eagled and all his limbs tied 
to two metal poles.  What surprised him was that his attackers used grey elven 
ropes to hold him.  Elrond could not feel his arms because they were so numb 
from the lack of circulation.

Elrond tried to twist his wrists to test the ropes.  It confirmed that he could not 
escape from it.  Then he was aware that the poles he was tied to, were attached to 
a huge bed, set in front of him.

Suddenly he remembered Legolas.  He scolded himself for selfishly thinking only 
of his own well-being.

Relief descended on Elrond’s heart when he found the young elf lay asleep though 
his eyes were still closed.  The half-elf watched with pride, the sleeping beauty in 
front of him.  The golden blond hair was spread on the soft down pillow while his 
luscious lips parted slightly, breathing gently and regularly.  The only injustice done 
was the thin wrists tied above his head, also with elven ropes.

The elven Lord noticed that his whole arms were sleeveless.  He was curious if 
Legolas was without a shirt on.  He could not tell because the blanket was drawn 
all the way up to his neck.

Anger and jealously swirled in the half-elf.  They had better only have taken off his 
tunic and undershirt for the sole purpose of inspecting the injuries inflicted on his 
stomach.  Otherwise he would rip someone’s heart out for even touching his ‘elf’ 
unnecessarily.

Assured for now, that the Prince was safe, he surveyed his surroundings.  It did 
not look promising.  They seemed to be in a cave, man-made because of the 
unnaturally hewn stones.  The torches placed on all four corners lighted the huge 
chamber well, revealing no other furniture except the bed.

Since he could not see any door in his line of sight, he assumed it was behind him.

Just to prove he was right, Elrond heard the sound of a door being opened, and a 
gush of breeze brushed his hair to one side.  From the sound and heavy treading 
of the footsteps, he knew they were men.

While one stayed behind him, the other stepped around into view.

"Lord Elrond, a pleasure to meet you again. I'm sorry if it's not as lavish as the 
function you've attended before," a complacent smile crept across the man's face.

"Boromir! I never thought you would dare show your face again," snarled Elrond.
 
"Oh why the hostility, Elrond? Did I not treat you well?" asked the man in mock 
surprise.
 
"What do you want from us?" Elrond hissed dangerously.

"Nothing and everything. Legolas should have been mine sooner if that Faramir 
had not interfered…….but no matter. The importance is that he is here now."
 
"What. Do. You. Want. With. Us?" The Lord of Imladris glared predatorily at the 
former Steward of Gondor.
 
"Patience Lord Elrond. You will know soon enough."  Saying that, he walked over 
to the bed and sat with his back facing the half-elf.
 
Boromir’s eyes studied the sleeping form in front of him. He reached out and 
caressed the silky smooth cheek, relishing the sensation.
 
"Take your filthy hand off him!" yelled the Elven Lord. He tried to use all his 
strength to break free from the ropes but it was useless.
 
"Such an exquisite creature," he said longingly, ignoring the racked behind him. 
"And now, I have two of them in my possession," he added, louder as he turned 
around to look at the raven-haired elf.
 
It took Elrond completely by surprise.
 
"Shocked?  Yes, Elrond.  I want you too," he eyed the elf lustfully.
 
"Then take me Boromir.  I will serve you.  Let the young one go," offered the Elf 
Lord.  The man laughed out loudly at the proposal.
 
"You are in no position to bargain.  Both of you belong exclusively to me.  Soon, 
something else will be in my hands too."
 
"What do you mean?" Elrond's eyes narrowed.
 
"Silence!" Boromir snapped angrily as he stood up suddenly.
 
The man behind Elrond grabbed a handful of his dark long hair and yanked it hard. 
The half elf clenched his teeth, choking back any sounds.
 
"Soon I will teach you to hold your tongue.  Or better yet, I have other means to 
keep that tantalizing tongue of yours busy," sneered Boromir.
 
"You...aaaarrrggghhh!!!" cried Elrond, unable to stop his reflexive cry as the man 
behind him pulled his hair harder.
 
"Feisty!  Feisty!  Best you save your energy, Elrond and that is advice; not a 
warning," said Boromir as his face came within a finger's breath.

With a swish of his cloak behind him, he strode out of the chamber with the other 
man. A slam of the door indicated that they had left.

Elrond frowned at the revelation.  They must escape soon.  He was not sure if 
Legolas could survive another meeting with Boromir after what the man had done 
to him a year ago.  It gave him goose bumps just to think of it.

He remembered it all to well - the blank, lifeless stares; the empty shell; the 
nightmares; the trembling; the tears.  No, Legolas would not suffer it again.  Elrond 
Peredhel, Lord of Imladris, one of those who had fought against Sauron would see 
to it.


~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~


PART 5
 
A canopy of pure darkness stretched across the heaven.  Tiny, bright twinkling 
stars were generously sprinkled over the entire sea of night sky.  A thin crescent 
moon provided the only source of light in a black forest.
 
Lying on his bedding, with his hands laced behind his head, Aragorn stared enrapt 
by the brilliance ahead.  He could not sleep.  Usually, such nights would surely 
behold the Prince of Mirkwood, mused the man.
 
The click, clackating wheels in his mind kept running on their own, producing a 
river flow of scenes from three days ago.  No matter how much he tried to look at it 
from every angle, he failed to save them.  Each time, he ended up blaming himself 
even further.  In the end, he exhaled a long frustrated sigh.  He was unable to 
forgive himself.  He must find a way to rescue them and fast.
 
FLASHBACK
 
Night had already descended when Eoas returned with a rescue party, two days 
later. Faramir, two rangers and a group of twenty men found their king hunched 
over at the side of the road.
 
The light from the burning torches revealed him staring blankly, his face cold and 
hard.  The man was so engrossed in his own little world, had failed to notice the 
people surrounding him.  No one dared comment about the tear stained face.
 
The injured soldier was sitting not far away from his King.  Aragorn had tended to 
his wounds when he was finally able to get back on his feet again.  After that, he 
sat away from soldier, wanting to be alone.  The wounded man respected the 
privacy needed and had faithfully watched over him from a distance.  He had also 
tried to gather some food but did not dare to build a fire, out of fear that they could 
be attacked again.
 
Faramir immediately took charge of the situation.  After making sure someone had 
attended to the wounded soldier again, they began to set up camp further in the 
forest.  A campfire was started while duties were swiftly organised.  The Captain of 
Gondor then gently coaxed his long time friend to sit on a log, in front of the fire.

For the remainder of the night, Faramir hovered nearby, watching Aragorn with 
concern.  He did not dare to sleep because he did not want to loose sight of the 
King.  He had huddled close to the other two rangers and began discussing quietly 
as what to do next.

It was agreed that two soldiers will bring the injured one back to Minas Tirith.  Two 
make shift stretchers were also made so that the dead could be dragged behind 
the horses back with them.  Instructions were given to them to inform Steward 
Bergon to make the necessary arrangements to send the body back to Rivendell.

Faramir had taken the task to compose two messages to be delivered to Rivendell 
and Mirkwood as soon as they break camp and start their hunt for the kidnapped 
elves.  A third message was to be carried back with the two assigned soldiers 
traveling back to Minas Tirith.

The moment there was enough light to see, everyone dispersed and went about 
their assigned tasks.

END OF FLASHBACK

Their progress on the first day was promising. The kidnappers had been quite 
careless in leaving their trails.  They could not find any campfires though, which 
meant that the group had traveled into the night, wanting to put as much distance 
as possible from their pursuers.
 
However, on the second day, they realised that they had under-estimated their 
foes as they found out too late that they were led astray.  Doubling back had cost 
the rescuers almost a day and a half before they could find the right tracks again.
 
Aragorn became impatient and cursed relentlessly.  Half the group felt uneasy by 
their King's dark mood.  Aragorn had wanted to travel even at night to catch up the 
lost time but Faramir insisted they stop and rest.
 
The merciful gesture was received gratefully. It was a relief to have Faramir around 
to deal with the King.  Anyone could see that the King was exhausted and this hunt 
had left him drained, physically and mentally.
 
Quietly, Faramir had worried about his friend’s health.  The man had been under 
too much pressure for his own good.
 
After Faramir stubbornly insisted that he take a rest, Aragorn was also staunchly 
forbidden to take turns in keeping watch at night.  Twenty against one, Aragorn 
knew he was outnumbered.  Grumpily, he kept to himself the whole night.
 
"Don't worry Aragorn. We'll find them in time," said Faramir, seeing the creases of 
worry on his friend's brow.
 
Since the first night, the younger man had placed his bedroll beside the King and 
trailed behind him like a shadow.  Aragorn was a bit annoyed at first.  He did not 
like to be baby-sitted by someone else. But secretly, it felt good to have Faramir so 
concerned for him.  It made him less lonely.
 
"I don't know Faramir.  They seemed intent on killing everyone.  Then there's 
Elrohir, who is still missing.  What should I do?"  A tear rolled from Aragorn's left 
eye.  Luckily his friend was lying on the other side.
 
"I'm beginning to think it's all a ruse to lure you and everyone out here."
 
"Why do you say so?"  Aragorn sat up and looked at his friend.
 
The crackling campfire casts dancing golden glow on Faramir's face.  Aragorn 
found his attention shifted, relishing every curve of the young man’s feature and 
the highlights on his long curly locks.
 
His stares were evident that Faramir felt a bit uncomfortable.
 
"Is there anything wrong, Aragorn?" he questioned boldly as he too sat up.

"What?  Oh no. Nothing."  It was his turn to shift uncomfortably for being caught 
staring.
 
"Well, back to what I was saying.  I've been contemplating this whole set up.  Why 
did they try to kill everyone else except Prince Legolas, Lord Elrond…..and you?  
You said arrows were raining down on you and yet they missed you, deliberately?"  
Faramir turned to look into Aragorn's gray eyes.  May be he was using it as an 
excuse to stare?

The piercing stares sent a strange sensation through Aragorn's whole being.  
Somehow it was familiar yet he could not put a finger on it where and when he had 
experienced it before.
 
"I...I don't ... know," stammered the King slightly.
 
"Why didn't they try to kill you when they had the chance as five men surrounded 
you?  Instead they retreated quickly as they got what they came for," Faramir 
prodded again.
 
"You're right. But who and why?"  A frown was added to the already worried face.
 
"I've been trying to put together bits and pieces that I've gathered for the past year 
and my guess is...."
 
"Boromir," grated Aragorn before Faramir could finish his sentence.  The younger 
man nodded.
 
"But why? It's suicide for him to stir a hornets' nest," more wrinkles graced his face 
as he thought deeply.

Silence ensued between the two men.

"The throne," Aragorn answered to himself after some time.
 
"It's risky but he has two important hostages.  Aragorn, he's luring you out into the 
open so he can force you to abdicate without the knowledge and interference from 
your alliances."
 
"Then Gondor is.." gasped the King as the notion dawned on him.
 
"Safe, for now," Faramir finished for him this time.
 
"How?"
 
"I've sent messengers to Rivendell and Mirkwood.  Another will reach Steward 
Bergon soon."
 
"Are you sure it's wise to let Thranduil know?  The elf will declare war on everyone 
if we fail to bring back Legolas alive."  For the first time, Aragorn was truly afraid of 
the possibility that he would never see Legolas again under these circumstances.
 
Aragorn did not like the idea of facing the golden King again.  His cold blue eyes 
could make a man weak in the knees.
 
"If we didn't inform him, he would have personally hunt you first because he holds 
you fully responsible,” Faramir reasoned.  It was a practical thought.
 
Faramir turned his gaze away, to stare blankly instead into the campfire.  His mind 
began to drift away.
 
"Faramir?"  Aragorn's eyes studied the sparkles dancing on his brown eyes.

"Hhmm..?" answered the other absently without looking at the King.
 
Aragorn did not know why he was so engrossed in his friend the whole night.  May 
be he was just too tired and stared unnecessarily.  May be his eyes were playing 
tricks on his mind.
 
"Thank you so much for all your help.  And thank you for worrying about me," 
murmured the King sincerely.

The blond turned to look at Aragorn finally. A blush blossomed on his cheeks. He 
couldn't help but smile.
 
The King wondered why he liked that smile and it played on his mind until he fell 
asleep.


~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~


PART 6
 
"What?!"  King Thranduil yelled.  His voice echoed over the entire Audience Hall, 
causing some of the elves present to cringe.  The golden King was shaking with 
rage and his fierce face was flushed red like Anar as it was about to disappear 
beyond the horizon.
 
The poor messenger cowered at seeing the King's wrath.  He took an involuntary 
step backwards when he saw the elf's fists, turned white from self-restraint.
 
In Minas Tirith, he had seen King Aragorn with his temper but that was nothing 
compared to the golden elf standing before him.  He was like a giant ball of fire, 
waiting to erupt any moment.
 
Like everyone else, Crown Prince Firith was stunned to learn of his brother's 
kidnapping.  Unlike the King, he remained calm.
 
"Prepare a company of soldiers.  We move out within the next hour," barked the 
King finally when he was able to think again.
 
Several palace guards bowed and ran out of the Audience Hall in unison.  It was 
the pride of the King to see such discipline among his soldiers.
 
"Firith, go get your brother and tell him to come with me," said Thranduil in a 
normal tone again.  Without hesitation, the Prince bowed and left hurriedly.  "And 
you, man of Gondor," as he looked down at the man who had dwarfed himself, 
trying to escape the elf King's deadly glare. "Will take me there."
 
The frightened man nodded his head jerkily and scurried away when he was 
dismissed.  He scowled as he was led to the kitchen to get some proper meal. 
After riding for several days with only minimal rest, he was tired but now he was 
ordered to ride again and lead a party of elves to track down his King.  He had 
hoped to get some rest before riding back to Gondor but now it seemed his wish 
had evaporated into thin air.
 
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
 
"Glorfindel! Glorfindel!"  Cried a muffled voice.  It jerked the blond elf awake from 
his deep sleep.  Groggily he rubbed his eyes.  ‘Must have been a dream,’ he 
thought.
 
"Glorfindel!  Wake up!"  The voice sounded frantic.
This time the eldar was sure he heard the voice coming from behind the door of his 
room.  Without putting on his shirt, he jumped out of bed and rushed to the door.
 
"Elrohil?  What's going on?"  Glorfindel frowned while his heart raced.

Before the young Lord could answer, his gray eyes roved to the bare chest and 
continued to the front of Glorfindel’s leggings where a bulge was noticeable.
 
"Elrohir!"  Cried Glorfindel exasperated.

"Oh yes.  A message came from Faramir.  Father and Legolas were kidnapped. 
Estel is now leading a group to track down the kidnappers.  Lindel and Tuse are..." 
he trailed off, a lump form on his throat.  “Dead,” he said quietly.
 
"Where's Elladan?" worry began to seep in him.  Two dead elves were definitely 
serious matter.
 
"He's preparing the horses now," Elrohir answered, but his stares still did not leave 
the bulge in Glorfindel’s leggings.
 
"Good.  Tell Erestor what happened.  Have him send a message to Lord Celeborn 
and Lady Galadriel about this.  I'll be down soon."
 
"All right," nodded the young elf and he left, a bit reluctantly.  Being young, lust 
easily over-ruled his mind.  Glorfindel closed the door behind him.  His hands 
trembled slightly.
 
"Stay calm.  Elrond will be all right," he said to himself.
 
Quickly, he poured some water into the basin and washed his face.  Then he threw 
on some proper riding attire before dashing out of his bedchamber.  He did not 
even remember to comb his hair and opted to just run his fingers through it and 
hope not to appear like a young elf after a wild romping.
 
"Do you want some breakfast first before we go, Glorfindel?" Elladan spoke up 
when he saw the older elf come down the stairs, walking towards him.
 
"No.  I don't have any appetite right now.  Is everything ready?" the blond eldar 
answered a bit brusquely.
 
"Yes.  As soon as Elrohir comes down, we can go," answered Elladan.  He 
appeared calm but Glorfindel could see the concern in his eyes.
 
”We'll get to him, Elladan. Don't worry," Glorfindel tried to sound as genuine as 
possible.  The twin looked down and nodded weakly.
 
"Now I know how Thranduil felt," he murmured.
 
Glorfindel let out a sigh.  He did not know what to say.  He eyed the other elves 
around them.  Ten elven soldiers joined them.  He noted their grim faces.  He 
guessed they must know the reason for this sudden departure.
 
Elrohir appeared with Erestor, whose face had paled even more than usual.
 
Without further ado, the other twin put his left foot on the stirrup and swung his 
right leg over.  The rest followed suit.
 
"Be careful, all of you.  Please bring back Elrond alive," said Erestor, a little 
shakily.
 
Glorfindel nodded once and then turned his horse around to gallop away, followed 
by everyone else, leaving the lone elf to stare until they were out of sight.
~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~

 
PART 7
 
Two heavenly beings cuddled together underneath the thin quilt, peaceful and 
content.  The bigger elf with dark hair lay on his side, his chin resting on a crown of 
golden tresses, his body wrapped protectively over the smaller form.
 
The burning torches cast golden glows on the pale faces, creating an effect of 
immortalized golden statues.  Both had perfect and noble features; while one had 
the built of a warrior, the other was just starting to blossom into a mature elf.

Suddenly one of the 'statues' became alive.  It stirred and then the eyelids 
fluttered.  When they opened, revealing a pair of bright azure orbs.  He blinked a 
few times.
 
"Elrond?" whispered a hoarse voice.  Either by recognition of the voice or his own 
name, the other woke up, with a jerk of his head.
 
"I'm here, Legolas. How are you feeling?" the elf Lord sounded a bit sleepy.  Relief 
descended on him that the Prince had woken up at last.
 
"Not too bad but my stomach and neck still hurt a little," said the young elf weakly.  
Feeling his lips parched, he licked them instinctively.
 
Elrond watched the pink tongue run over the reddish lips, turning them sheen with 
saliva. Unable to resist, he bent down and ran his own tongue deliberately slow 
along the soft flesh.
 
After he'd made a full circle, he slipped his tongue into the hot mouth and worked 
on drawing sweet saliva that he swallowed contently. He smiled when he heard a 
moan emitted between the quivering lips of his love.
 
"That was a beautiful kiss," breathed Legolas after Elrond pulled away.
 
"As beautiful as you, my little Greenleaf," purred Elrond as he watched the childish 
feature glow, softening the outlines.
 
"I love you," said both elves at the same time.  They broke into giggles, amused by 
their twin thoughts.
 
"Where are we?" asked the Prince, realizing at last that they were in a strange 
room.
 
"In a cave, melme. But don't worry. I will protect you."
 
"Why? What happened?" the young elf was confused.
 
"Don't you remember anyting?"

"No. I don't even remember how I got hurt," his eyebrows creased together in deep 
thoughts.
 
"We were kidnapped."  Elrond studied his love’s reaction carefully.
 
"By whom?" the Prince was shocked.  He felt his body temperature drop 
immediately. Painful past memories flooded his mind.
 
"By me!" announced a cheery voice.
 
The young elf recognised the voice before he even saw the man come through the 
door to stand at the foot of their bed.  The elven Lord heard his Greenleaf gasp 
audibly.

Legolas started trembling with fear as he burrowed deeper into the warrior's strong 
embrace.  Elrond held the young elf tighter, whispering reassurances in elvish 
while his eyes stalked Boromir's every move like an eagle.
 
"Finally our sweet little Prince is awake. You must be famished. I've brought some 
food, though it's for Elrond. I did not think to be so fortunate to find you up already."  
The former Steward swaggered to the side of the bed where the blond elf was half-
lying and half-sitting.
 
Moments later, another man enterd with a tray laden with food. He placed the tray 
on the bed and stepped back to stand beside his master.
 
"Crane, please get some more fruits for our little one here," said Boromir, his eyes 
trained hungrily on the two elves.
 
The servant bowed and then left silently.

“Please do start. Crane will be back shortly with more food," he added.
 
Tentatively, Elrond got up. As he pulled away from Legolas, the Prince started 
whimpering. He looked down and saw the fear on his face.
 
"It is all right, melme. I won't leave you. I just want to get you some water," he 
murmured.
 
Legolas began to calm down thought somewhat still reluctant.
 
This exchange intrigued the man. The young one seemed to cling for dear life to 
the elven Lord.
 
"Here. Drink this slowly," Elrond said as he helped Legolas to get up and place the 
rim of the glass to his lips.
 
Sip by sip, Legolas swallowed the water and immediately felt very much refreshed 
by it. When he had enough, his hand pulled the glass away.  Elrond finished the 
rest.
 
While the two prisoners ate slowly, Crane came back with another tray of fruit and 
more water.
 
"Well, I'll leave the two of you for now. I shall be back later," announced Boromir.  
Giving them a last look, the two men left.
 
The young Prince exhaled loudly after they heard the door lock. Elrond uncurled 
his muscles too. He gave a reassuring kiss on the Prince’s forehead and then 
continued to eat silently.  He had been ready to fight the moment any of the men 
attacked.
 
* ~ * ~ *
 
"After they have finished eating, separate them," Boromir instructed his servant.

"Yes, my Lord," answered the other man as he bowed respectfully.
 
Boromir smiled to himself. He had waited long enough. Tonight he would finish 
what was interrupted one year ago.
 
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
The elves of Rivendell caught up with the Mirkwood elves one day later.  After 
exchanging pleasantries, they worked in unison to hunt for the signs left behind by 
Faramir so that they could catch up faster.  However, King Thranduil had never 
really forgiven the twin sons of Elrond and had made it clear to them.  As they 
traveled, the twins kept their distance in order to avoid any confrontation with the 
golden King.
 
It took the group two days of hard riding before they met Aragorn mid-way.  With 
the pooled resources, they hoped to quickly track down the kidnappers.  Everyone 
hoped, deep down in their hearts that they were not too late.


~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~


PART 8
 
Without the window, the two elves could not tell the time of day. They had to rely 
on the servant when the he comes in with food. Elrond guessed that they could be 
on the third day of captivity.
 
As usual, Crane came in to clear the trays. His expression was never readable. It 
was as if he has no emotions.  This time however, six burly men followed him in 
from behind.
 
The elves tensed with fear, especially Legolas who unconsciously gripped Elrond's 
left forearm so strongly that the elf Lord winced.
 
"Elrond," Legolas gulped despairingly, as his eyes flitted among the men.
 
"Get behind me, melme. Stay close," as he immediately maneuvered himself to 
protect the Prince.  He could feel the elf tremble.
 
"Work with me Legolas. You cover my back and we'll escape from here. Ready?"  
Elrond did not look back to get his confirmation.

“Yes,” came a timid reply.
 
The ancient warrior observed his attackers quickly as they surrounded the bed. 
The situation looked grim.  Without weapons, their chances were slim.
 
Just as Elrond put one leg on the smooth-polished floor, they pounced upon him. 
One caught his left leg while another pushed him down.  Swinging a punch, it hit 
the man on top of him with a force enough to reel the man back a few steps. Blood 
began to dribble from his broken nose, down his tunic.  He wiped the blood on his 
nose and looked at it.  A growl rumbled in his throat.
 
Then he lunged at Elrond again, along with his three other 'friends'. This time he 
raised his hand and sent it down for the elven Lord's head but Elrond caught his 
fist with his one free hand and using his right leg, he heaved and kicked his kidney. 
The man cried out in shock and pain.  Before the other three could take the 
opportunity of his brief distraction to pin him down, the warrior shoved his knee into 
one of them, striking in the abdomen.
 
The maneuver caused Elrond to fall back on top of his love.  He quickly tried to get 
up before he crushed the young elf to death but it was a mistake because the 
young elf was pulled away from under him forcefully.

He could not afford to turn and look what happened but he heard a lot of 
commotion beside him.

"Oww! Why, you brat!" yelled one of them when the Prince sank his teeth on his 
arm.

The sound of a loud slap echoed in the chamber followed by the trays falling on to 
the floor with a loud clatter worried Elrond.

That was when the remaining four attacked him at the same time, even more 
fiercely.  It was all a blur. Punches and kicks exchanged but more rained down on 
Elrond as they crushed him underneath their weights. Some connected to his jaw 
and it dazed him slightly.  Another split his lower lip, the blood staining his teeth.
 
Before he could clear his head from the continuous poundings, he heard a yell.
 
"Elrond!...Let me go!" called out the young elf as he was dragged out of the 
chamber.  A scuffle ensured followed by more struggling but the two men 
managed to half-drag and half-carry the Prince out.
 
"Legolas!" shouted Elrond, panicky, and he tried to twist in their strong grip but 
could not move.  They pinned his hands above his head while one tied his wrists 
securely to the headboard.

Once done, the men retreated; leaving the Lord of Imladris cursing, yelling and 
fighting against the ropes.
 
"Boromir," he heard the muffled voice of his love coming from another chamber in 
the underground caves.
 
His heart raced. So helpless.  He struggled even more furiously.
 
"Boromir, take me!  Don't touch him.  You hear me, Boromir?"  Elrond yelled 
earnestly.
 
* ~ * ~ *
 
Boromir stood on one side of the room while he waited for his men to tie the elf's 
wrists together above his head, to a metal ring set on the stone wall.  Legolas did 
not make it easy for them and Crane had to help them by pinning his body down. 
After they had finished, they left quickly, closing the door behind them; separating 
the occupants inside from the world outside.
 
Seeing his nemesis – alone – made the Prince begin to hyperventilate.
 
"Elrond!"  Legolas whimpered, his voice getting weaker.  His body shook 
uncontrollably and his pounding heart was about to jump out of his chest.
 
The man eyed Legolas leeringly. Without taking his eyes from him, he stripped 
naked and proceeded to climb onto the bed.
 
"No, no. Please...don't..." begged the elf, and his head shook side to side.
 
Too many bad memories filled his mind, rendering him stunned and helpless.  He 
felt weak and light-headed as too much oxygen filled his body.
 
”Remember one year ago, Legolas?"  Boromir said huskily.  The young elf 
breathed even more rapidly, his face flushing red.  "You blush beautifully. Like a 
fragile flower waiting to be plucked," the man added, taunting the terrified elf even 
more.
 
Legolas tried in vain to loosen the ropes from his wrists.  Tears spilled from the 
azure eyes continuously.

"I will die if you take me," sobbed the young elf.
”I don't think so. I know how to stop your death, my elf."  Sitting on top of Legolas' 
crotch, he ground with his now hardened member.

Boromir began to peel away the undershirt and then ran his hands on the pale, 
heaving chest.

"Stop it," whispered the Prince hoarsely.
 
"You're my slave now. Better learn to get used to it."  As a warning, he placed his 
hand on the Prince’s limp member and began to stroke, coaxing it to harden just to 
humiliate and fray his nerves.
 
"Never!"  Legolas yelled suddenly, legs kicking, attempting to strike Boromir.
 
As a reward, a slap landed harshly on his right cheek.
 
"You will learn obedience soon enough," hissed the man dangerously.
 
Impatient, Boromir pulled the Prince's leggings off and flipped him onto his 
stomach. He laid on top of him, wedging his aching flesh between the crack of the 
small buttocks.
 
"Do you like my hot flesh, Legolas? It is much more satisfying than Elrond's," 
Boromir whispered harshly into the pointed ear.
 
He rubbed himself up and down while nibbling on the pointy ear tip.
 
"That's right Legolas. Moan for me," as he heard a barely audible sound come 
from beneath him.
 
His throbbing member was demanding entrance but he kept rubbing until it 
became too agonizing. He needed it now.  Saving the foreplay for the next round, 
he positioned his huge tool in front of the tightly closed entrance.  He felt the elf 
tensed exaggeratedly.
 
"I'm sorry Elrond...Please forgive me. I'll wait for you in Mandos.  I love you," 
murmured Legolas under his breath.
 
Boromir could not make out what Legolas had said but did not care anyway. He 
forcibly penetrated the unyielding hole, tearing a short cry from the once melodious 
voice.
 
A loud moan echoed on the cave walls as Boromir felt the shaft gripping him 
tightly.  As he began to move his hips, he felt the body beneath him slackened and 
the muscles around his member relaxed.
 
Thinking that the Prince had lost consciousness, he did not stop. Instead he 
pounded with the pent up desire kept for so long.
 
Shuddering finally from the climax, he collapsed on top of Legolas, heaving 
heavily.

Sated, Boromir withdrew and then turned the motionless body to face him.  The 
first thing that greeted him was a pair of lifeless staring eyes.

Boromir peered closer with a slight frown etched on his face.  Not concerned, as 
he did not know much about elves, he proceeded to kiss him again.  The mouth 
opened easily for him to rummage but Boromir felt something was not right.
 
The Prince was not breathing.
 
"Legolas? Legolas?" he called as he held the shoulder and shook him furiously.
Legolas did not respond.

Boromir panicked. Then he remembered that Elrond was a healer. Quick as 
lighting, he stumbled out of bed clumsily and opened the door.

A guard standing outside tried very hard not to stare at his master's naked form.
 
"Get Elrond in here now!" commanded the man.
 
The guard ran to the cell where the half-elf was kept and quickly took out a bunch 
of keys. After opening the door, he went inside.  Moments later Elrond came out 
looking confused.  However seeing the ashen face on naked Boromir, the elven 
Lord rushed towards him.
 
Boromir noticed the raw wounds and blood on his wrists.  The raven-haired elf had 
struggled mightily.
 
Elrond's heart beat furiously as he approached the bed. He almost stopped 
breathing seeing the finger marks on the deathly white skin. He prayed to Valar in 
that was not what he thinks was happening.
 
Looking into Legolas’s eyes, he noticed that they had already clouded completely.  
Too late.  Quickly, he let go of the wrists.
 
"Legolas!"  Elrond called as he shook the shoulders. No response. "No, Legolas. 
Legolas!  Don't leave me.  Melme?" yelled Elrond desperately.
 
A horribly anguished and helpless scream from deep within the soul filled the 
entire chamber that caused both men to cringe at the painful pitch.
 
The Lord of Rivendell held the limp body tightly against his chest while his neck 
craned to the heaven, his mouth agape and his screams continued.  Finally unable 
to scream anymore, he burrowed his face into the silky golden locks and cried 
loudly, while rocking back and forth.
 
* ~ * ~ *
 
The scream had drawn Aragorn and a few others nearby, to its source. They ran 
along the passage and found a door ajar.  Pushing it open wide, the sound 
became louder.  Immediately, they raced down.
 
Aragorn was the first to reach the prison cell, closely followed by Lord Glorfindel 
and King Thranduil.  They were not prepared to see the scene unfolding in front of 
them.
 
A disheveled Elrond was cradling a naked body on the bed, crying.  They could not 
see the face because it was buried deep in Elrond’s arms but they could see 
golden locks.

The moment Thranduil burst in and saw the scene, a howl of pure rage and pain 
filled the cave that was quickly joined by Aragorn’s battle cry.  Together they 
charged at the same time.

Caught unprepared, Boromir could not defend himself.  When Anduril pierced his 
heart, no sound came from the dying man.

Thranduil had made a wide arc of his elven sword and sliced cleanly the head of 
the guard who tried to stop him from advancing towards the Prince.  Dropping the 
sword to the floor, the golden King approached the bed, a bit hesitantly.  His heard 
raced as if thousands of horses ran wild through the valley.

He found Elrond slumped beside his son, both dead.  Grief had claimed the life of 
the Lord of Imladris.

A second scream threatened to tear from the King of Mirkwood's throat but he 
used all his will power to suppress it this time.  Prying open the tight grip of 
Elrond's arms around his son, he used his cloak to wrap the small form and carried 
him out of the room.  No emotion showed on the King’s face.

Glorfindel and Aragorn were stunned to find Elrond dead so suddenly.  Gathering 
their strength and courage one last time, Aragorn carried his father out, followed by 
Glorfindel beside him.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
 
Camps were set up outside Boromir's fort. No one could ride that night. The 
atmosphere was melancholic and depressing.
 
Dazedly, Aragorn wandered aimlessly around the camp. He met Glorfindel but 
they did not acknowledge each other. Instead the golden Eldar stumbled towards 
King Thranduil's camp and went in. Within moments, Thranduil's second son came 
out and wandered away.
 
The King of Gondor did not know what was going on but he did not care. He 
walked onwards and finally stopped at a clearing about a mile away. Sitting down 
heavily, he looked up into the sky. Two stars twinkled briefly and then disappeared.
 
Tears rolled down Aragorn's cheeks in torrents as the man cried his heart out.


~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~   ~*~


PART 9

Legolas’ stumbled on to a wide plain.  As far as his eyes could see, all around him 
was bright, red poppies, swaying to whichever direction of the winds that brought 
it.

Even though it was quiet all around, whenever the breeze blew past, his ears 
caught a strange whistling that sounded very soothing and peaceful.  The young 
elf closed his eyes and listened in full concentration.  He had not realised that his 
body began to sway in the same motion as the delicate flowers around him.

As his body began to relax and his mind began to drift away gently, he became 
aware of more new sensation bombarding his other senses.  He felt the wave of 
heat from Anar warming his skin while the cool, crisp air filled his lungs delightfully.  
The short grasses under his bare feet had tickled him playfully.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt renewed.  Everything seemed so clear as 
if his five senses had heightened its keen sensitivity.  He began to see how deep 
blue the sky was.  He also smelled the delicate fragrances of thousands of flowers 
and plants that had surrounded him.

Legolas took a good look around him.  No tall mountains hindered any view but 
there was also no one else around.  He was completely alone, standing naked in a 
sea of green and red.  He felt lonely.  There was no one to talk to and no one to 
answer questions for him.  He wondered if he had already entered Mandos’ Halls.

With nothing else to do, he sat down on the spot where he had been sitting.  
Immediately, the flowers almost dwarfed him for they reached to his head.  Then, 
he decided to lie down so he could look at the bright sky ahead.  Only then did he 
notice a half-moon as if someone had painted it there.  It was magnificent to watch 
the silver and white crescent against a backdrop of blue.

While staring at it, his mind wandered off into the clouds, reliving all the wonderful 
memories of his former life.  Strangely, all the bad nightmares that had plague him 
so horribly before, now seemed so distant and unimportant; that it no longer 
mattered and would not haunt him anymore.

Then he wondered something.  Does time pass by quickly in Valinor or does 
everything freeze in time?  So many questions popped in his mind that soon he 
dozed off to a blissfully deep slumber.

* ~ * ~ *

A light touch, almost like the flutters of the wind tickled the tip his nose.  
Unhurriedly, he coaxed himself to wake up and focus his blurrish sight to see what 
had landed on his face.

What he saw was a small butterfly, the size of two thumbs put together.  The wings 
were of the brightest cobalt blue, sprinkled with tiny yellow dots and when it 
fluttered its wings, it gave an effect as if it shimmers on its own.

Then a shadow fell across him.  Legolas could not see who it was, only a 
silhouette against a bright background but his nostril caught a familiar scent.  His 
memory flashed past him and recognition dawned on him almost immediately.

“Elrond!”  Legolas exclaimed.  He jumped up to embrace the half-elf.  The 
exaggerated action had caused both of them to topple on to the ground with Elrond 
below, laughing away.

“I’ve missed you terribly melme.  I was afraid I won’t be able to find you,” chuckled 
Elrond.

“Why ever not?”

“Mandos’ Hall is a big place.  You could be anywhere,” Elrond explained.  He knew 
this from what his close friend – Glorfindel – had told him.  The golden eldar had 
once journeyed to the Halls of Waiting and was returned to the land of the living.

“How did you find me, then?”  Legolas was curious and he looked adorable when 
he was inquisitive.  His eyes would light up and become big with expectant.

“A little butterfly led me here,” Elrond explained as he pointed to the delicate insect 
that had now perched at the top of Legolas’ head.

As Legolas moved to a more comfortable position, it flew away, happily on its way 
to another errand.  The Prince’s azure eyes followed the butterfly’s movements 
until a pair of warm lips on his distracted him.  A smile tugged at the corners of his 
mouth.  Soon, both of them were moaning in passion.

“Elrond,” purred Legolas when they finally paused for a brief respite.

“Hhmm…” Elrond answered absently, his mind and senses were still buzzing from 
the kiss.

“I know I’ve not passed my majority formally and that you promised ada you won’t 
‘touch’ me until then but….” the little elf trailed off, his fingers twisting on his laps 
nervously while a blush crept to his cheeks.

Elrond studied the shy elf in front of him.  Suddenly, he understood what Legolas 
had been implying.  A loud laugh boomed from the half-elf and it caused Legolas 
to blush as red as the poppies around him.
“I’m sure Thranduil would not mind that we bond officially here in Valinor.  After all, 
he can’t kill me again as I am already dead.”  Legolas did not answer but looked 
down shyly.

The half-elf looked at the young one in front of him, feeling love in his entire being.  
He reached out and placed a bent finger under Legolas’ chin and brought it up.  
What he saw was irresistible.  Those blue azure eyes were so innocent and so 
hopeful at the same time.

“Legolas Thranduilion, will you agree to bind yourself to me, Elrond Peredhel, 
forever?”  His voice sounded a little shaky, probably from being nervous or just 
plain overly excited.

Legolas was so embarrassed by the question that he could not utter a word.  He 
nodded instead, his consent.

“Ai, Legolas.  I love you,” whispered Elrond and he kissed the pouted lips gently at 
first but soon became more passionate.  He slowly lowered Legolas to the ground 
and then laid on top of him.

A deep, demanding kiss was ensued. Elrond was taking him hungrily and luckily, 
Legolas did not push him away or freeze in trepidation.  Instead, the elf followed 
Elrond just as hungrily.

Both were lost in their own little world, moaning loudly.  For the first time, Elrond 
allowed himself to look at the beautiful body, spread coyly on the patch of flattened 
poppies.  It took tremendous effort not to betray Legolas’ trust by staring at him 
hungrily.

Being more experienced, Elrond took the lead in their lovemaking, showing the 
young one the proper ways to please him.  While Legolas helped his newly 
wedded husband to take off his clothes, he noticed that both of them were panting 
heavily.  The darkened orbs took in the sight of each other’s glorious bodies.

Elrond bend down and began to kiss the heaving chest until he found a nipple in 
his mouth.  A few licks and some nibbling had caused the elf below him to writhe 
wantonly and had his member fully aroused, trapped between their bellies.

Taking the opportunity, Elrond ground his body upwards, causing Legolas to gasp.  
The long thin fingers that had curled around his wrists, clenched tightly.

“Lirimaer,” whispered Elrond.  When the said elf was able to focus soberly again, 
“We shall come together,” he declared finally.  Legolas nodded meekly and 
touched his husband’s face, wanting to be reassured that it was no dream that he 
was living in.  Elrond leaned to the touch and gave it a kiss.

“I am ready, Elrond,” Legolas panted breathlessly.

Wetting his fingers, the half-elf placed a digit to the shy entrance.  Looking into the 
youthful face, he wanted to be sure he knew what Legolas was experiencing with 
each step of their lovemaking.

The young elf nodded again and began to relax.  Soon, a feeling as if something 
was prodding him was felt.  The finger slid inside without pain or any discomfort.  
After a few more moments, another finger was added and it slid in and out gently.

An unexpected eruption hit Legolas’ mind when he felt a sweet spot being rubbed 
against continuously.  It was so intense, nothing that the young elf had ever felt 
before.

“Elrond, I want you now, please,” when he felt he could not handle it anymore.

The fingers left and was quickly replaced by Elrond’s member.  When he first 
managed to pass the outer ring of muscles, Legolas winced a little.  Elrond 
stopped to allow him to adjust.  Another nod from the elf signaled that Elrond could 
slide further in.

At first, the thrusts were slow but soon become demanding as two of them moved 
in unison, pounding each other in desperate need.  It was a sight to behold – two 
beautiful elves – moaning in unison; sweat glistening on their bodies.

Elrond held Legolas’ weeping member and began to stroke it.  It made the Prince 
arch into his hand, greedily seeking the double sensation he was receiving.

“Elrond, I can’t hold on anymore.  I’m coming,” cried Legolas at last.

“Come, melme.  I will join you,” Elrond panted, feeling his own climax building 
quickly.

True to his word, as Legolas screamed out his release, Elrond joined him.

When two hearts had calmed and their breathing had slowed down, two beautiful 
beings in the most provocative scene, lay in each other’s embrace, content for the 
first time and blissfully happy to be reunited again, for eternity.

THE END


I have done it!  Yesss!  Ok, I hope all of you who had followed this sequel so many 
months ago, I didn’t disappoint anyone of you for the sad ending.  Thank you for all 
the patience and also for sending me the wonderful reviews.  As you can see, I’ve 
improved a lot since Unwilling Consort.  Just keep an eye for more new stories 
coming up – presently ‘The King’s Property’.  You can also refer to Fanfiction.net 
as I post them there too.  Cheers! ………….Red    ; P