Title: Fallen

Chapters: One to Five

Fandom: Lord of the Rings/Middle-Earth

Pairings: Sauron/Legolas, Sauron/Maglor, Maglor/Legolas, Others

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: AU, M/M Slash, graphic sex, M-Preg, BDSM, D/s, Rape/Non-con, character 
death, horror, gore, violence, physical handicap - basically, if you can think 
of it, it's likely here somewhere. Generally dark, disturbing, and possibly bad 
for your mental health. You have been warned.

Disclaimer: Middle-Earth is not mine, neither are Sauron, Maglor or Legolas. 
They belong to Tolkien. I make no money from this.

Summary: Legolas is captured by Sauron long before the War of the Ring, and he 
encounters someone there whose fate was never known.


Author's Notes: Feedback is encouraged. Please email me: 
pippychick_uk@yahoo.co.uk 

If you want to attack me for my imagination, please reread the warnings.

This entire story exists thanks to the invaluable help of the girls at the ILSS. 
Namely, Esteliel (for thinking up most of the names of my OC's), Milly, Gabby, 
Talics, who between them beta read parts of this story, and Nessa, who brought 
up the subject of Maglor in the chat one evening. A big thank you to all of 
those people.


* denotes italics 
// denotes thoughts, scary voices et cetera


 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ FALLEN ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


CHAPTER ONE

He stalked his prey single-mindedly, creeping up on her silent and steadily. He 
followed where she led, his bow ready. She stopped, dead still, a sound that was 
out-of-place had reached her. Legolas watched in rapt attention, his arm pulling 
back the string of his bow silently, the arrow ready to fly -

He stopped, dead still, having heard a sound that was out of place. He listened 
intently, lowering the bow as the thinly disguised footsteps came close behind 
him - then he turned and battled his follower to the ground as the deer took 
flight, her life saved for now.

From his place atop his brother, Legolas followed the deer's path through the 
trees with his keen eyes. "You idiot, Merenon!" he said in disgust, turning back 
to his laughing sibling and half-heartedly hitting him. "She was mine!" Merenon 
was several years older, and he seemed to take great joy in distracting him from 
his hunting.

"She was mine!" Merenon mimicked, giggling. "Careful, brother. Deer don't make 
good lovers. They're way too flighty." Despite himself, Legolas began to grin. 

"Oh, and you'd know," he said suggestively. Merenon had recently pursued a maid, 
only to find she was besotted with their much older brother, Daeron. Legolas 
knew he felt slightly foolish about it now, and he couldn't resist the dig. 
Besides which, Merenon was also not a good hunter, and sometimes he suspected 
Merenon distracted him so as not to be left behind.

His brother only laughed up at him, his eyes twinkling merrily. "There are other 
deer," he said, just as suggestively, and Legolas giggled, letting Merenon free. 

"Haven't you two managed to get anything?" a voice asked in disgust, and both of 
them groaned. Legolas looked up, seeing Daeron standing before them, tall and 
proud, with a young deer small enough to carry over his shoulders.

"I nearly had one," Legolas said accusingly, glaring at Merenon as they stood up 
and dusted themselves off. Daeron was perfect, and didn't waste any opportunity 
to show it. He was walking off already, back towards home. Legolas sighed.

"If I have to endure yet another archery lesson because of this, I'm going to 
kill you," he said, picking up his forgotten bow and shouldering it. The extra 
practice he managed to pick up because of Merenon's interference in his hunting 
was rapidly making him one of the finest archers outside of his father's army. 
He shook his head when he felt Merenon drape an arm around his back.

"Come on, brother. Don't be like that." Merenon threw a glance of sheer 
resentment down the path. "Don't be like him." Legolas didn't answer.

"Look at the bright side," he suggested, and Legolas eyed him dubiously. "You 
get to keep me company," he said with a sunny grin, and in the face of that, 
Legolas couldn't keep up his anger for long. He smiled, and they walked back 
together, arguing in whispers about how best to excuse their lack of success. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He crept stealthily closer, silent as the breeze through the leaves. A pheasant 
was wandering carelessly in the clearing ahead. Legolas already had his arrow 
trained on it. He would get it, as long as Merenon didn't interrupt. And as long 
as Merenon didn't interrupt - he would make a sport out of it. 

Getting as close as possible to the bird before it noticed a game was afoot and 
took to the sky was his current preoccupation. He stifled a sigh when he heard a 
sound somewhere behind him. *Not now*, he thought, annoyed, and his attention 
was so focused on the large bird in front of him he didn't really notice that 
the noise stopped, almost as though his thoughts had been heard.

He concentrated, aiming all the while. Another step closer... so silent. Another 
movement on the other side of the clearing disturbed the bird and it beat its 
wings furiously making a noise that Legolas couldn't hear past as it escaped 
him. The arrow flew wild as he let it go, his focus not on the bird now, but on 
the trees opposite him. If someone was over there, and someone was behind him, 
what was going on?

Slowly, Legolas turned in a complete circle, scanning the woodland with his 
perceptive eyes, but he saw nothing other than trees. In the sky above, the sun 
went behind a cloud, and the forest immediately gained a gloomier atmosphere. 
Where was he anyway? He had tracked a deer for hours, only to find the trail 
gone cold, and then he had spotted the bird. Had he ever been this far out? Come 
to think of it, he hadn't seen Merenon for a while. Was it possible his brother 
*wasn't* following him for once? It was unlike him to stay hidden for this long.

"Merenon?" He called out his brother's name softly, wishing he had thought to 
take notice of how far he went. As usual, his mind had been on the prize, and on 
the thought of besting Daeron. Now, he was beginning to feel slightly 
uncomfortable. He was aware that the wood was changing. No one he knew had said 
it, but some people were beginning to fear the Greenwood, especially those who 
did not live within its borders. Those who lived in Imladris, and those of the 
Golden Wood. They had a new name for this place, especially the south - 
Mirkwood. 

Indeed, it began to seem quite mirky now, with the sun already low in the sky, 
covered over by grey clouds. He thought he saw movement to the side of him and 
he whipped his head around, but nothing was there. He had heard rumours of 
strange monsters in the south too. Huge spiders that were big enough to kill and 
eat elves or men, possessed of cunning intelligence. Now he began to wonder if 
they were real, and if he had ventured somewhere he shouldn't. 

Automatically he reached for another arrow, but instead, somehow, he found 
himself standing with his bow in one hand, and his quiver in the other, holding 
them out as if in surrender. Slowly, amazed to see himself doing it, he laid 
them down on the ground, taking the small dagger he carried too and laying that 
out. 

He began to stand up straight, still completely bemused at what his body was 
doing without his say so, when he fell to his knees in a sudden kind of faint. 
He clutched the sides of his head, wondering what was happening to him. He felt 
sick and giddy, as if the world was moving without him while he stayed still, 
and he moaned once, sure that he would begin to retch if it carried on. But with 
it the drowsiness increased, and he lay down in the long grass beside his 
weapons, closing his eyes as he rarely did. The last thing he was aware of was 
being picked up and carried in someone's arms, and he smiled in his semi-awake 
state. 

"Merenon," he murmured. "I knew it was you." He knew no more then, but drifted 
away, escaping the sick feeling at last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gradually, Legolas became aware he was struggling. He pulled and twisted his 
hands in the ropes that held them. When his struggles had no result he groaned. 
He stilled, trying to determine where he was. He was laid on his back on 
something hard and cold like marble. He was naked. He was sure his eyes were 
open but he still couldn't see. Was it dark? He turned his head, and felt the 
material of the blindfold he wore against the side of his cheek. How had he got 
here? As he fought further, realising that his ankles were secured too, he tried 
to remember what had happened.

He remembered the hunt, and his very sudden, very real nervousness, and then 
nothing. Almost desperately, he replayed those final moments over and over again 
in his mind, and yet try as he might, he couldn't recall anything else. Just as 
he began to panic, his ears picked up a slight but deliberate scuffling off to 
the left side of him. From the aching in his shoulders, and the way his wrists 
and ankles were beginning to feel sore, Legolas grasped that he had been here 
for some time. But when he spoke, his voice was so hoarse and dry that it didn't 
sound like his own.

"Where am I?" he asked out loud. There was no answer, and he began to believe he 
had imagined the sounds he had heard - but then it happened again. This time he 
knew for certain that he wasn't alone, because he heard the sound of liquid 
being poured into a cup or goblet.

"What do you want with me?" he demanded aggressively of the still anonymous 
presence. His apparent helplessness and the silence of the other (his captor?) 
was infuriating him. Again, there was no response, and even the sense that he 
wasn't alone diminished in the empty silence.

"Answer me!" Nothing. Legolas pulled violently and frantically at the ropes. How 
could this be happening? He was Legolas Thranduilion! *Someone* was going to 
regret this pretty poor joke - he would make certain of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After some time, he stirred again. He didn't even struggle. To awaken stretched, 
his wrists and ankles bound, was disturbing, but so blessedly different to 
awakening free and insignificant that he almost celebrated it. He was laid on 
smooth solid stone, probably marble. He felt a coolness on his skin and realised 
he was naked. He turned his head a little and felt the soft material of the 
blindfold he wore against the side of his cheek. A memory was on the edge of his 
mind - something terrible had happened. He lay still then, hiding his 
wakefulness, and tried to remember.

Before anything else he remembered the ever-present sound of the sea. It had 
seemed unnaturally loud. After that... if he had been still and quiet already, 
now he even stopped breathing in his terror, having remembered just what came 
next. It dawned on him at last that the sound of the sea was gone. It was silent 
around him, or nearly so. There was the sound of movement on the left side of 
him.

"Where am I?" he asked out loud. There was no answer, and he began to believe he 
had imagined the sounds he had heard - but then it happened again. This time he 
knew for certain that he wasn't alone, because he heard the sound of liquid 
being poured into a cup or goblet.

"Are you my punishment?" he asked quietly, desperately afraid, almost to 
himself. But at his question the noises stopped, the clinking of glass making 
him think of someone replacing the top of a decanter. Footsteps walked slowly 
over to him, and he trembled in dread, fearing that this question might actually 
have an answer.

"Are you so deserving of it?" The voice was mildly surprised and a little 
curious, still deep and pleasing to listen to, as he remembered from the shore, 
but he knew who it belonged to and so he tried to get away, only then becoming 
properly aware that he was tied down and couldn't move.

"Please," he whispered. For a moment there was a silence so profound he could 
almost feel it. The blindfold was yanked suddenly from his eyes and he blinked 
in confusion, although the light wasn't terribly bright where he was - the few 
candles that illuminated the room were far away from the stone table on which he 
rested.

"Are you asking me..." The voice trailed off as if to consider the next words. 
He closed his eyes immediately, unwilling to see the owner of that voice as it 
came closer. He could feel warm breath on his face, and he whimpered 
submissively. "*Would* you ask me, to punish you?" 

The next minute or so seemed to last a century, as he wondered if the voice 
required him to answer. He could still feel the soft tickling of breath against 
his nose, and he kept his eyes closed in terrible fear. "Well?" it demanded, 
breaking into his thoughts.

He delayed it as long as he could, but he was helpless and frightened, and more 
than anything, he wanted Sauron to back away from him so that he could dare to 
open his eyes, and so, at last, he gave the owner of the voice what it wanted.

"Punish me," he said softly, shivering. "Please," he added as an afterthought, 
and at last he felt Sauron moving away from him a little.

"Very well," he said, amused, and Maglor swallowed the cry that rose in his 
throat. "Let us begin, *mûl nín*."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The liquid sound stopped, only to be followed by a quiet sloshing, as of someone 
swirling ingredients together. In fact, this entire situation began to take on 
the feeling of a ritual, as though his silent aggressor had been through the 
same motions many times before. Legolas began to feel ignored. 

"Who are you?" No answer. "Stop it now, Merenon. This is not funny anymore." 
Silence, but he knew really, this was far beyond any joke Merenon would play on 
him. "Let me go!" After that there was a shuffling, and Legolas quieted, fully 
expecting to be released. But it wasn't to be so. He felt the rim of a cup 
placed against his lips and he tried to turn his head, but then there was a 
strong hand keeping his head straight, lifting him slightly to drink.

Legolas thrashed around and yet somehow the hand holding him was strong enough 
to keep his head still. The bitter tasting liquid spilled on his lips, and 
Legolas hummed loudly, trying to shake his head. Despite his lack of 
communication, the message must have got through, because the cup was removed. 
Legolas slumped back with a shaky sigh, spitting the strange substance from his 
lips.

"Never!" he announced. "Not if you make me thirst for a week!" Still, there was 
no response to his words, and he felt the first tears of frustration in his eyes 
as he continued to struggle to get free. "I don't know who you are, and I don't 
care. When I get free from here you're going to regret this," he vowed. As if in 
answer, a long piece of metal was pushed against his lips, and Legolas gritted 
his teeth against it.

Fingers cruelly pinched one of his bared nipples, and it was so unexpected that 
Legolas cried out in shock, his captor taking the chance to force the mouthpiece 
past his lips. Immediately the bitter liquid was filling his mouth, and he 
screamed the air out of his lungs to rid himself of it, but there was too much. 
He held his breath, trying again to shake his head, but after only a couple of 
minutes it was swallow or drown. Legolas chose to swallow.

However bitter the brew was on his tongue, it felt fiery going down his throat, 
and he began to feel a strange warmth inside him, spreading outwards into his 
limbs and affecting his thoughts. 

"What is it?" he murmured vaguely, wondering why the answer was so important. 
Oh! Yes... the potion - or whatever it was. It hadn't eased his thirst at all, 
and he moaned in protest as he began to get drowsy and weak, barely registering 
the hands that moved over his naked midriff and belly, seeming almost to stroke 
him.

"Leave... off... me..." he ordered, his voice blurry, and then succumbed to the 
intoxication, slipping into a form of reverie.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His bouts of awareness were short and nightmarish after that. He awoke several 
times to the sensation of his body being used and filled in the most humiliating 
way, and he moaned in his distress, losing consciousness again rather than 
endure it.

At other times he knew his captor was near him, and he struggled to form words, 
to ask what was happening to him. It soon became clear that he was being kept 
helpless and immobile. He was no longer tied, and he rested on a soft bed, but 
he was still unable to move. Despite his infrequent lucidity, the passage of 
time had still imprinted itself upon his mind, as it did when he slept, and he 
knew that he must now be considered missing.

"Help me," he pleaded in one of his more wakeful moments. There was soft laugh 
near him and he turned his head towards the source of it, the blindfold still 
hindering his vision. "Don't," he moaned, his sprit truly broken at the 
amusement of his captor.

"Don't what?" the voice asked pleasantly.

"Don't laugh at me." He began to cry silently, shaking with his sobs on the bed 
he was too weak to escape. Enough of the drug that was regularly forced on him 
remained in his system to make his muscles useless and he grasped that this was 
why he was no longer restrained.

"Legolas," the voice began, and his heart jolted to realise that his kidnapper 
knew his name. "You are doing very well. Everything is progressing as it should. 
You still live." A warm hand rested on his belly as the voice spoke, and this 
too had become familiar to him. Just to be touched there, and he wondered what 
it could mean. He searched for the meaning, and then he felt the answer. He 
didn't think of it, he became aware of it inside his body. He tried to scream, 
but he was too weak and all that emerged was a petrified wail of horror.

"No!" he called out uselessly. "No, no..." 

"Shh," the voice commanded, and again he heard the pouring of liquid beside him. 
Legolas whimpered.

"Not that... not again... please..." He coughed and spluttered when the 
mouthpiece was pressed into his mouth, resisting it as much as he could, but 
eventually he drank.

"Good. It will keep up your strength. Yours - and his." The hand rested on his 
belly again as he drifted into unconsciousness again, and he knew why now.

More fevered glimpses of the horror followed, this time his eyes were free, but 
he closed them when he saw the monster that possessed his body. Despite his 
constantly weak state, the next time he came around he managed to retch in his 
disgust as his captor walked towards him again. He kept his eyes tight shut, 
fearing to see the monster again.

"Look at me," it commanded, and Legolas tried to shake his head. He didn't know 
if he managed it. Again, he felt that warm hand on his belly, and then he heard 
such a roar of anger and fury that his eyes flew open to determine the danger. 
What he saw he would never have imagined. Before the bed he was kept on stood a 
tall, black-haired man. He wasn't human though and he wasn't elvish. He wasn't a 
monster either... or was he? He wore black robes, and his eyes... Legolas made a 
sound of astonished terror, glad that the dark lord was no longer touching him.

It couldn't be anyone else. But then Sauron looked at him. "Which one was it?"  
he demanded suddenly, and Legolas was at a loss for what the dark lord wanted 
from him. He swept one long arm gracefully back, leading Legolas' gaze to two 
uruk-hai who stood guarding the room. Legolas saw the monster, and again when he 
tried to scream, what came from his mouth was a mix between a wail and a moan.

The dark lord noted his reaction, and turned to the two large orcs again. 
Legolas closed his eyes and fell asleep again to escape. The next time he awoke, 
he saw that the dark lord was seated in a chair at some distance from the bed, 
watching him.

"Where am I?" he asked nervously. Sauron only smiled. 

"Where I want you to be." Legolas digested that piece of information slowly. He 
tried to shrink back when Sauron stood and walked over to the bed.

"You will become more aware from now on," Sauron advised him. "If one of these," 
he said, indicating the guards again, "does anything besides watch you, you will 
tell me." Legolas nodded his head furiously, sneaking a quick glance at the orcs 
who stood by the door. He felt that warm hand against his belly again, and then 
he knew why Sauron had become angry.

"Oh, please! No!" he choked out, feeling so sick at the thought of it he wished 
he would faint again. Sauron looked at him. 

"I cannot remove it yet, and I will not," he stated matter-of-factly. Legolas 
squeezed his eyes closed in utter disgust as he felt the hand move away from 
him. "The other child is doing well."

"Please..." he sobbed in shame and mortification for what was happening to him. 
Sauron just ignored his plea.

"I will be back to check on you again tomorrow." Then he was gone, and Legolas 
was alone with the guards, only this time, there was to be no escape in reverie. 
Whether he wanted it or not, he was waking up.


CHAPTER TWO

Legolas was awake, but he chose to lay still with his eyes closed. Being wakeful 
after Sauron had left the day before, Legolas had watched the large orcs who 
guarded him as closely as they watched him. Only when it became clear that they 
weren't going to come near him did he begin to investigate. 

At first when he had tried to stand up he had fallen back onto the bed 
helplessly, his legs so unused to carrying his weight that it was as if he had 
forgotten how to stand. But he persevered, and it was with a kind of glad relief 
that he gained his feet after a couple of similar attempts. Still, he was 
unsteady, and he used the wall to walk around the room, one eye watching the 
orcs to make sure they didn't move. 

There was a name for them - what was it? He had known it, he was certain, but 
the long period of enforced unawareness had made his mind sluggish and lazy. 
Uruk-hai. Legolas nodded to himself. That is what they were. He whimpered 
suddenly, afraid, remembering what was inside him, but then he deliberately 
turned his mind away from the shocking truth of his predicament. Still hugging 
the wall, he made his way around the room.

There wasn't much to see.

The small windowless room was at least a little brighter than before; the 
candles Sauron had kept lit now extinguished in favour of torches. There were 
four - one for each wall, and in a box Legolas found replacements, along with a 
few new candles. 

There was a simple wooden chair, which Sauron had used, and the bed he had been 
kept prisoner on. Under the bed was what could loosely be described as a 
chamberpot. That was all. Legolas took a torch and some tinder from the box and 
painstakingly carried it back to the bed with him. Despite his nakedness it 
wasn't cold, the stone floor was warm under the soles of his feet and the walls 
were warm to the touch. It was so unusual, Legolas at least had never known such 
a thing, and he wondered what it could portend.

He collapsed tiredly on the bed, and lay still for a while, holding the torch 
ready to be lit in his arms in case those on the wall should go out. The uruk-
hai terrified him as Sauron didn't, and he didn't want to be alone with them in 
the dark.

Now, an indeterminable amount of time later - Legolas only knew that he had 
slept for a period - Sauron was back. He assumed the amount of time that passed 
to have been a day, since the dark lord had said he would be back tomorrow. 
Legolas ignored him.

"I know you are awake," said Sauron in a rich, deep voice. Legolas chose to 
ignore it. He felt the torch being taken from his arms, and he offered no 
resistance, in the hope that it would encourage Sauron to believe he really did 
sleep. Opening his eyes a fraction, he watched the dark lord take the torch and 
tinder back to the box at the opposite side of the room. Then he suddenly turned 
and made eye contact. Legolas sighed in a kind of defeat and sat up a little on 
the bed as Sauron laughed quietly.

"How are you feeling?" he enquired directly as he took his seat - the chair 
Legolas had noted earlier - and he heard himself answering before he could stop 
to think about it.

"I am weak and feeble. It is difficult to stand up." Legolas covered his mouth 
with his hand in astonishment as Sauron stood and walked over to the bed again. 

"How long have I been here?" he blurted out in a fearful voice as Sauron came 
closer to him. 

"Lie still while I examine you, Legolas," Sauron commanded, and to his shame and 
mortification, he felt himself reclining on the bed, offering himself up to 
whatever Sauron wished to do to him.

At first, the dark lord rested one hand against his belly, nodding in 
satisfaction at whatever he sensed while Legolas moaned at the reminder of what 
his body was being used for. Then, he was pushed onto his side, and he heard the 
dark lord take something from his robes before a finger, lubricated with some 
greasy substance, entered him from behind. Legolas gasped out, the sore feeling 
only subsiding after a couple of moments, and by then, Sauron was already 
withdrawing from him.

"Very good!" he said then, and Legolas shuddered. "The danger has passed. For 
now." Legolas turned onto his back again and looked up at the dark lord. He felt 
relieved to be alive, and to hear that he wasn't going to die even if something 
unspeakable was being done to him.

"How long?" he asked again, pleading, as Sauron sat on the edge of the bed. He 
seemed to think for a moment.

"All told. Give or take a day or two," he began carelessly, "around two months." 
Legolas felt his face grow pale. Two months?! He remembered the drug that made 
him sleep, and he couldn't quite countenance it. It was so long! He thought of 
his family and friends, and heard himself negating Sauron's words in soft 
whispers.

"They have almost given up searching for you," Sauron told him simply, as though 
he knew what Legolas' thoughts were. Then he gasped when he felt Sauron's hand 
caressing his member, and everything else flew from his mind.

"What? Are you... doing?" he managed, shocked beyond belief as the hand began to 
stroke and pull at him. Too late, Legolas thought to push Sauron's hand away 
from him, but he wasn't strong enough. "Stop!" 

"Does it distress you?" Sauron asked, a slight smile on his lips as he continued 
to touch. Legolas blushed in humiliation as his body began to respond to Sauron, 
and he moaned wretchedly.

"Yes," he hissed, and suddenly the hand was gone. Legolas moaned again in a 
mixture of relief and longing.

"You will find that I reward honesty, Legolas," he said then, looking down as he 
stood up from the bed. Legolas looked up at him helplessly. "I have some rules. 
But don't worry - they are quite simple."

"One. You will not leave this room unless I take you from it myself. Two. You 
will not do anything to endanger the life you carry, or yourself. Three. You 
will obey me without question. Is all of that clear?"

Legolas trembled at the way Sauron spoke to him, and he nodded once. "What will 
happen to me?" he asked as Sauron turned and strode away, but there was no 
answer to his question, and soon he was alone again.

He wept for a while as the magnitude of his situation finally began to sink in, 
and he thought of his father and brothers. *They have almost given up searching 
for you.* "I'm here, Daeron," he whispered, knowing that if anyone could track 
him down, then it would be his eldest brother. "Don't stop looking." He cried 
until his tears were gone, and then he simply lay on the bed, not bothering to 
move, even his fear of the uruk-hai who guarded him fleeing in the face of his 
hopeless plight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Legolas awoke alone. For long minutes he lay on the bed, weeping. But eventually 
he quieted, and that was when he realised what being alone meant. No one was 
watching him. There were no orcs, no uruk-hai - he had been left to his own 
devices.

The chance for escape was too tempting to resist, and Legolas stood carefully, 
thankful that today, it was not so difficult as before. He tottered at first, 
without the safety of the wall to cling to, but soon enough his muscles 
remembered how to hold him and he walked freely across the room, regaining a 
little of the grace his kind was known for.

The door stood slightly open, and Legolas made his way over to it cautiously. 
There was the chance that guards were waiting on the other side of the door. In 
that case, everything would be lost; but he would rather they didn't even see 
his hope.

No guards. Legolas breathed a sigh of relief. So relieved he was, that as he 
crept out of the room naked, and made his way down the corridor, it never even 
occurred to him to wonder why he was alone...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Panic was beginning to set in. So many corridors he had walked down; he was 
starting to despair. He didn't know if he would ever find a way out, and he knew 
that the longer it took, the more chance he would be found wandering, or 
discovered missing from his cell.

The caution that he had when he first left his prison now utterly deserted him, 
and he began to run through the disturbingly empty halls. The sound of his 
footfalls on the stone echoed back at him, making him uneasy. Even pregnant, he 
was quick and nimble on his feet, the fear spurring him on, and eventually he 
came to a door. Light shone through the cracks - real light - and the heaviness 
lifted from his soul. Perhaps he would get out of here, after all!

He felt a small tremor of fear as he opened the door; sure that finally the orcs 
would be waiting for him, but there were none. No, it was not orcs that made him 
catch his breath in despair; it was the sight before him.

A black, barren, empty landscape stretched out before his eyes, ending further 
away than he could see. This was not Dol Guldur. He had been imprisoned and 
tortured, that was true. But through it all, he had always believed he was 
closer to the Greenwood than this. An awful feeling of homesickness filled him 
as he began to pick his way across the dry, rocky ground. He stumbled once or 
twice; there was a heat hanging over the land that made his eyes water and the 
burning air settled on his lungs like thick smoke, making him gasp. In 
hopelessness he flung himself on the ground. What chance was there of ever 
leaving here? This was why the guards were nowhere to be seen. He would die if 
he tried to escape this way. He didn't exactly know where 'here' was, but it 
stretched on forever.

Just when he had given up all hope and was resigned to waiting for the orcs that 
would soon come and take him back, he heard something familiar. Something that 
sounded like home...

He followed the whispering sound until he came to a vision in the bleak wastes. 
Trees. His soul sang to see them. Woods, and wild flowers! He ran to the first 
of them with new confidence, certain that they would hide him from the enemy. As 
he drew nearer though, the song of the trees suddenly seemed full of shadow. He 
stopped, uncertain, but there was really nowhere else to go. He stepped 
underneath the leafy canopy, into the cool darkness, and the welcoming feeling 
of green.

He stopped again for the briefest moment in trepidation, remembering his feeling 
that there was a shadow hanging over the forest, but nothing seemed out of 
place. He must have been mistaken. Breaking into a joyful run, he touched the 
bark of the trees as he passed them, sending them his hope and his relief. *Hide 
me... keep me safe...* A small spark of his former self came back to him after 
all the darkness - he was Legolas again here and now, and he would fight to keep 
his freedom. He was exhilarated, dodging through the trees, but gradually he 
became aware that the wood was for some reason stopping him from proceeding. His 
direction changed until he knew without a doubt that he was heading back the way 
he had come.

Why? In an annoyance that was half-despairing, and half-playful, he stopped and 
leaned against a nearby tree to catch his breath, his back to the trunk. Only 
when he stopped and listened to the silence did he notice for the first time 
what was so strange about this wood. There was something missing - the sound of 
life. There was no birdsong; no humming insects. In fact, there were no animals 
at all. Disquieted, he leaned against the tree, trying to hear the explanation 
in its song, for surely there was a reason.

And this too he had missed during his captivity; the smell of the wood. He 
closed his eyes while he listened and breathed in the scent of summer on the 
leaves, inhaled the rich smell of the earth. Familiar feelings of the Greenwood 
came to him; the wild dark, the quiet secrets of the undergrowth, the 
magnificence of a forest and the trees such patient, silent overseers. But then 
he felt something he didn't like - the tree he was close to felt a great 
loneliness, spoke of centuries without seeing life. Indeed, it seemed that these 
woods had forgotten the world. They sang to him in the way that trees had; the 
rustling of leaves, and the creaking of branches. Despite the sadness of the 
wood, Legolas smiled. They wanted to know where he had come from.

He felt leaves brush against his face, sensed the fragrance of blossom on the 
air. Long, cool grass moved around his feet, caressing his ankles. It was like a 
siren song to the lost wood-elf, and he gladly let himself fall into it. *How 
did you come to be here?* He listened, and although he understood the need, 
considering the emptiness of the wood, what he heard made him apprehensive. He 
shook his head to clear it, perhaps it was the feel of the words in his head 
which were making him dizzy; he had been locked up inside for far too long. He 
listened again:

//Stay with us... we have been alone, and lonely... Sing for us... silence is 
death...//

He pondered the lifeless state of the forest, silently asking, and in a flash he 
envisioned centuries upon centuries of stillness and quiet. For the trees, such 
natural observers of life, long ages where nothing changed except for them, 
where nothing made a sound except the breeze through the leaves. Trees spent 
their lives watching and listening to others; this unnatural, dead, still 
silence was already unbearable to him. How long it must take for the days to 
pass here, let alone the years. Legolas shivered suddenly in comprehension - 
this was a kind of hell. He knew without being told that even the weather was 
controlled here, but the truth was given to him regardless. No storms to disturb 
the unwanted peace, a heavy mist instead of the drama of rain. These woods had 
no secrets to keep, no memories to treasure; even their limited consciousness 
must be made insane by it.

Someone had kept the forest alive in this state of non-existence. But who? And 
for what purpose? The answer came as a memory, a reply to a similar question 
asked in delirium, the remembered words delighted and dark; "Because it amuses 
me." The full horror of where he was struck him and evil enfolded him in its 
black grip, crushing his spirit. For a moment he couldn't breathe, and he saw 
the wood for what it was - an exercise in control for the dark lord's 
entertainment. It might look like home, but it wasn't. And the trees might be 
familiar, but he didn't know them. Trees and the wild places they inhabit should 
never feel so strange to one of his kind, he thought with a touch of bitterness.

No wonder they wouldn't let him leave. With his arrival he had surely woken them 
up, and his stomach lurched at the thought. He didn't understand what was 
happening here, and he felt uncertain when he thought about what might happen to 
him. He should never have ventured in here, he should have known better, and 
heeded the warning; these woods did belong to the enemy after all.

He opened his eyes only to find small tendrils of ivy curling around his wrists. 
He moved his hands away quickly and tore his feet free of the grass that had 
wrapped itself around his ankles, holding on to him. Refusing to admit his fear 
to himself he backed away from the tree, looking around him at the wood.

Protectively, he rested his hands over his belly, remembering too late Sauron's 
instructions to him. The wood almost seemed to draw back in shock at his action, 
and the silence deepened. The atmosphere became slightly threatening and the air 
felt colder than before. The silence was oppressive and heavy, longing to be 
broken. He could hear his own breathing, his own heartbeat too loud - because 
*they* could sense it.

He moved in a circle with his arms outstretched, trying to watch all of the wood 
at the same time, ready to bolt at any sign of movement or danger. A branch 
creaked above him and he jumped, looking up only to see the tortured branches of 
a large oak, unmoving. The feeling of such fear in the middle of a wood was so 
alien to him that he almost laughed, but he didn't dare. Instead, the fear 
continued to grow, expectant of something - but what? What could trees do? He 
had the unnerving impression that the forest was closing in upon him. Every time 
he looked around, the trees behind him appeared a little closer than before.

Deciding to move through the wood, whatever the truth of its nature might be, he 
turned and stopped immediately when he found himself facing an ancient oak. This 
wasn't imagination - it hadn't been in that position before. He began to back 
away, and bumped into another of the 'unmoving' trees. Before he could jump away 
in his panic, the ivy that had held him earlier was back. He pulled his hands 
away, but the living bonds were stronger now. He heard himself whimper in terror 
and he lost his reason as he fought mindlessly against the imprisonment. He 
would not be made helpless again!

After some moments of fruitless struggle, during which more and more ivy and 
vines had grown to hold him in his place, Legolas stopped to gather his 
strength. Trapped, he was unable to stop himself weeping bitter tears of 
frustration. Somehow, this was worse than Sauron's prison. Here, in the embrace 
of the wood, he felt horribly betrayed. He heard the song of the wood again, and 
this time the hidden meaning was clear.

//Stay with us (we won't let you leave)... we have been alone for too long... 
Sing for us (we would hear you scream)... silence is death...//

Legolas moved his hands again, and caught his breath when he felt a sudden, 
sharp pain. He looked and found that numerous brambles also held his wrists. 
Their thorns were catching at his flesh with every movement he made. He 
remembered all he had endured only to end up here, and it seemed eerily similar. 
Bound, helpless, forced to endure pain. He moaned plaintively, and he sensed the 
forest all around him, listening, drinking in the sound of his despair. The 
sensation of being watched and enjoyed as a form of entertainment made him move 
again. The thorns tore at his sensitive skin, and time slowed down. He watched, 
fascinated, as a drop of his blood fell, managing to shine wetly even in the 
half-light. It landed on a leaf, sounding like the first heavy drop of rain 
before a storm. The contrast between red and green was striking, and he felt the 
reaction of the wood to this new development. The brambles tightened around his 
arms painfully. He stayed as still as possible, understanding the danger. They 
would tear him limb from limb for the sound of his screams and the colour of his 
blood.

He closed his eyes to calm himself, and immediately the link between him and the 
forest was stronger. Despite what was happening, he again felt the instinctive 
bond of his kind towards nature and growing things. Even such a forest as this, 
twisted and insane, was at its heart the same as any other wood. The familiarity 
of his position as a prisoner made him remember his experiences, and too late he 
realised he had passed his memories on to the life around him. Their grip 
softened until it was once again bearable, but now the purpose changed.

He held his breath when he felt new touches over his body, refusing to open his 
eyes and acknowledge what was happening. Why would they do this, he thought 
suddenly, they couldn't 'feel' him; they had no real sense of touch. One of the 
creeping vines brushed across a nipple, and he cried out, startled. The sound 
carried in the stillness, breaking the dreadful silence, and then he knew what 
this was about. He closed his lips tightly against his sighs, determined not to 
encourage this, but in his mind he remembered being forced to feel pleasure 
against his will and knew he would not be able to fight for long. His thoughts 
and his sense of failing resistance passed into the consciousness of the wood, 
and the touches became more insistent. He struggled again, despite the pain from 
the thorns; he had to get free somehow.

"No..." he pleaded finally, when he felt the lightest touch on his soft member, 
but the nightmare continued, only encouraged by the sound of his voice. Soft, 
stroking touches that almost seemed to belong to fingers... His body tried to 
move into the touch, causing more drops of blood to fall from his wrists and 
arms. The faint smell of copper made him aware of it, and he tried desperately 
to stay still as the intimate torment of his body went on.

After a while he couldn't hold back, and he moaned into the stillness, 
regretting every sigh that passed his lips. This was *wrong*. He opened his eyes 
and cried out in shock at the sight. A criss-crossing pattern of vines and ivy 
covered his entire body. They had grown around him, making him part of the wood, 
seeming to absorb his separate identity. Nothing more than a plaything, he was 
held perfectly still as the vines stimulated his nipples and hardness. He was 
helpless once more, at the mercy of things which should be friends or 
protectors, and this time it would be endless. Legolas screamed as the vines 
covered his open eyes, and the sound reverberated through the entire forest, 
breaking the centuries' old monotony at last.


CHAPTER THREE

The dark lord stood in the centre of his forest - he made a tall and imposing 
figure. As if he knew the woods were waiting for him to move, or to speak, he 
stood perfectly still and quiet, looking down on the elven Prince at his feet. 
Legolas was curled up unconscious on the ground beneath a giant sycamore; dry, 
soundless sobs making his entire body quiver. His gaze took in the deep, 
bleeding scratches on Legolas' arms and legs, and then he glanced around at the 
wood, a cruel, amused smile on his lips.

"In another time and place, he and his kind belong to you." Sauron's voice was 
deep, powerful, and surprisingly warm. The sound of it almost robbed his words 
of their mockery - but not quite.

The forest processed the sentiment slowly, and then suddenly its hunger for 
company increased so much that it could be felt in the air. The trees loomed 
menacingly above the two figures in the centre of the wood. As before, not one 
of them seemed to move, and yet somehow they were blocking out more of the 
light. A hollow, empty darkness descended, and for a moment or two Sauron 
allowed it.

The trees crowded around their Master, each one looking as if it had always been 
there. There was no longer a path out, and the strange feeling of intense 
expectancy returned. But at that point Sauron simply raised his hand, and the 
vines and brambles which had started to creep silently from the cover of the 
trees stopped just short of his feet. The darkness and the threat passed, held 
in check by magic, leaving behind an ages old resentment and malignancy. But now 
Sauron turned his attention back to Legolas, who began to stir.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Legolas awoke to the sound of a familiar voice that filled him with dread. For a 
few moments he didn't open his eyes, but then he sensed his injuries and they 
flew open of their own accord. The first thing he saw was Sauron's feet, almost 
touching him. Legolas didn't look up, but began to move away slowly, taking in 
his surroundings as he did so. A forest? His eyes widened in amazement. How did 
he get here? He finally looked to Sauron for an answer as he stood up, but the 
dark lord was simply watching him impassively, in the same way a spider might 
watch a fly that is close to its web.

Legolas backed away warily, keeping his eyes fixed on Sauron as the dark lord 
advanced on him. He felt a tree behind him, and he gasped in shock; his mind was 
suddenly filled with feelings and images as he remembered everything that had 
passed before he lost consciousness. He experienced shock at the amount of time 
he had been held captive again; his panicked escape; his joy on finding the 
forest, and then... He started away from the tree violently, turning to face 
this new threat, but a second later he remembered there had been nowhere to go.

He bumped into Sauron, and the dark lord's arms closed around him possessively, 
warm and alive, trapping Legolas' hands at his sides, and pressing their bodies 
together. He froze instinctively. There was an awful feeling of finality being 
in his arms like this; it was like being embraced by death, and Legolas 
shivered. He felt Sauron's breath on his neck an instant before he felt lips 
brush softly over his skin. Legolas sighed, unable even to think of stopping it, 
and he felt those lips curve into a smile as Sauron continued to kiss his 
throat.

He could feel Sauron's body heat through the thin material of the robes he wore, 
and it reminded him of his own nakedness. He felt suddenly exposed and 
vulnerable, all the more so because they *were* being watched. In spite of his 
discouraging stillness, Legolas was uncomfortably aware of Sauron's growing 
arousal. The hardness was nudging him, rubbing against him, and all he could 
think was 'no'. He said nothing though, desperately wrenching his attention away 
to think about the forest. Despite what it had done to him he felt a wave of 
sympathy and empathy for the wood. They were in the same position after all; 
playthings of the enemy, dominated by his will. 

Sauron's lips moved to his ear and Legolas' breath caught in his throat. One of 
the hands that were holding him dropped down to his member and began to coax an 
erection from him. Skilful fingers, using just the right amount of pressure. 
Squeezing, pulling, tugging at him. It was indescribable, irresistible. The 
feeling was everything, and soon Legolas was moaning again, this time for his 
Master. He was displayed for the forest to see, and every sound he made was 
swallowed up by the silence like a desert devours the rain. He knew that Sauron 
was using him to torment the wood, and the thought made his eyes fill with 
tears, but he couldn't stop it. He leaned back into the dark lord's arms, 
wanting only to forget where he was, but then Sauron whispered to him.

"Everything in this world will fall to me. Did you really think your beloved 
woods would be any different?" The words were enough to chill his blood, but the 
voice was so charming, so perfectly confident. Indeed, Sauron made the nightmare 
sound so predictable and inevitable that Legolas turned his head away, unable to 
reconcile it.

Sauron's hand was still caressing him, slowly, torturously, and Legolas was glad 
for a moment because it stopped him from thinking. He didn't want to think. He 
couldn't imagine the Greenwood having such a fate, being under his control, 
being like this. Legolas moaned again, and now there was a note of protest in 
it.

The dark lord laughed softly at his reaction. "Yes," he continued, and Legolas 
wanted to raise his hands to cover his ears, but his arms were still trapped. 
"All will be mine; and you, I promise, shall live to see it." At this Sauron's 
hand left Legolas' aching hardness, and he couldn't bite back his cry of dismay. 
Sauron's fingers skimmed lightly across his belly. "You *will* see it, with my 
child in your arms."

And there it was. Sauron's words were irrefutable. He left Legolas with nothing 
to say, nothing to respond to. This was not a conversation. If he hadn't been 
held, Legolas would surely have fallen - was he to spend his immortality as 
Sauron's companion? His legs refused to support him anymore and his head fell 
back onto Sauron's shoulder. Immediately the dark lord's lips covered his. 
Legolas' lips parted in surprise and Sauron's tongue pushed into his mouth, 
probing, tasting. And he couldn't stop that, in the same way he couldn't stop 
Sauron's hands, in the same way he couldn't banish Sauron's words. Persuasive, 
seductive, a cruel parody of comfort; they tumbled over and over in his mind, 
refusing to let him be.

Breaking the kiss, Sauron pulled back a little, and Legolas just looked up at 
him, dazed and confused. His body still screamed for Sauron's attention, needing 
the contact again, and Legolas wanted to say 'don't stop.' But the sight of the 
dark lord stole the words from his mind. Something about the gloom and the dead 
silence suited Sauron. The limited amount of light found his dark eyes, making 
them glitter. The silence seemed to wait for him to speak. His black hair 
gleamed softly, and Legolas almost wanted to reach out and touch it. He was 
dangerous, and a monster, but still he was so dazzling and perfect. So...

"Beautiful," the dark lord said, licking his lips, and with that the spell was 
broken.

Legolas came back to his senses when Sauron spoke, and now at last he began to 
fight. What kind of magic did he have, that he could make a Prince of elves 
desire him? It didn't matter. He broke free of Sauron's grip - too easily - and 
immediately began to run. He didn't care that there was nowhere to run to except 
the forest. He didn't care that he would more than likely be caught even if he 
escaped the woods. All he wanted was to get away from Sauron, and the sense of 
unreality the dark lord brought to his mind.

He heard Sauron speak a word behind him, and then suddenly what had been a clear 
path before was blocked by a solid wall of trees. He slowed down as he reached 
them and rested his hands on the trunks of the trees at either side of his head, 
almost hitting them in his frustration. He swore bitterly, and then stood still 
for a few moments, catching his breath, listening to his heartbeat slow down, 
until the terrible predicament of the wood made him want to end the contact. He 
lifted his hands away, almost in a gesture of peace to the forest, but then 
Sauron's hands covered his, holding them in place.

Legolas jumped; he hadn't realised that Sauron was so close to him, and the 
trapping of his hands was such an intimate, controlling gesture that he felt the 
strange desire return. Again he felt the hot breath on his neck, the dark lord's 
body-heat behind him - this time they were only *almost* touching. Something 
about being close to him clouded Legolas' thoughts, and made it difficult to be 
aware of anything else. Sauron tutted in mock displeasure at his attempted 
escape, and Legolas felt his heart miss a beat. The fear passed through the 
palms of his hands into the consciousness of the wood, and he was horribly aware 
of it enjoying his experience in some vicarious way. What was worse, on some 
level it was nearly natural. He didn't know what he expected Sauron to say, but 
it wasn't what came next, the words heavy with a threat he didn't understand.

"I keep you from fading. *My magic* keeps you from fading. Do you understand yet 
what that means?" While Sauron spoke his voice changed direction as though he 
were looking Legolas up and down; he felt the skin prickle on his neck and back 
as if he could feel the dark lord's gaze moving over him. Sauron continued, and 
Legolas' fear grew.

"Do *you* know why elves fade?" Sauron asked rhetorically, his words full of 
cold delight. The hands moved away from his and Legolas let go of the bark 
instantly, wanting to be free of them both. Suddenly his hands were slammed back 
down painfully, and Legolas kept them still this time when Sauron left him.

He stayed in his place, desperate to look around, but unwilling to. He expected 
Sauron to touch him again with every passing moment, and the sense of tension 
continued to build with every second it didn't happen. When Sauron did return he 
was still unprepared for it, and he cried out when he felt the touch of the dark 
lord's hands on his shoulders. The hands moved over the taut muscles of his back 
firmly, almost seeming to stroke him, and he shook in fear.

Sauron hushed him, and one hand continued to move reassuringly over his back, 
while the other moved lower. Sauron pushed one of his fingers into Legolas 
ruthlessly, and he cried out again, this time in pain. Sauron ignored him, and 
before long there were two fingers inside him, stretching him.

"Please, no..." Legolas murmured automatically, aware that the forest too would 
enjoy his pain when the dark lord took him. Already he could sense the gathering 
dark, the disturbing feeling of being watched.

He cried out suddenly, and Sauron chuckled, having found the part of him that 
made him moan. He played with Legolas for a while, and just before the point 
where Legolas would have found an end, Sauron's other hand reached around and 
gripped the base of Legolas' hard member firmly. His fingers continued to 
massage that place inside him, over and over again, drawing pleasure from him 
the way a vampire draws blood.

"When you shiver and tremble like this; when you beg for me to stop," Sauron 
paused for a moment. Legolas hardly heeded the words; he was far past the point 
where he should have found release. His eyes rolled back in his head, he 
breathed only to voice his pain every time Sauron's fingers moved inside him. 
Rhythmic, relentless, matching his heartbeat. His entire existence was centred 
on the unbearable sensation - only later did he recall the next dark whisper.

"You make me want to hurt you."

Then Sauron's fingers were gone, but in the next instant his hardness was 
pushing into Legolas, forcing tears to his eyes. In one long, painful push 
Sauron was completely inside him, only then did he release his cruel hold on the 
base of Legolas' member.

The force of his orgasm took Legolas' breath away, and he almost blacked out. 
But with every spasm he felt Sauron inside him, dominating, claiming his body. 
Through his hands he heard all the voices of the forest in his mind, all 
shouting at once, craving his experience. //We have been so hungry, yes... Feel 
more... Such a memory means life... Give it to us...// A part of his soul 
belonged to the wood, even to this one, and their yearning only intensified what 
he was feeling. It didn't matter to them what it was, all that mattered was the 
pain and the pleasure. Legolas couldn't deny them, whether he wanted to or not, 
and he felt every single sensation so keenly that he screamed. It was too much, 
but not enough. Their voices clamoured for more, and for a second longer he 
forgot about Sauron, existing for them. After that the voices dimmed in his 
mind, and he finally felt his longed-for release draw to a close.

He was weak and dizzy. His eyes closed as his hands fell from their place and 
his head dropped down. He couldn't support himself; only Sauron's hands on his 
hips held him up. He was almost unaware of it when Sauron began to thrust in and 
out of him brutally. The vital, burning pain of the assault was removed somehow, 
as if it were happening to someone else. His shoulder was pushed into the trunk 
of the tree over and over again, jarring him, and the soft skin of his cheek was 
being grazed and scraped by the bark, but it didn't even register. Legolas was 
as relaxed as a rag doll. After some minutes of using Legolas this way Sauron 
came, deep inside him, and at that Legolas finally gave voice to a long, low 
moan.

When Sauron left him, Legolas crumpled into a heap, wanting only to lose 
consciousness. His hands curled around the cool grass, but there was no comfort. 
He was surrounded by strangers, who had enjoyed his pain as surely as Sauron. 
Once more he felt betrayed, hadn't he given them everything? Then a hand was 
pulling savagely at his hair, forcing him back to his feet. He stood and faced 
Sauron wordlessly with a quiet, defiant dignity. He looked into Sauron's eyes, 
and he wanted to die. But the dark lord's voice came again, to take away his 
hope.

"You will not fade," he said, as if reading Legolas' thoughts, "and yet neither 
will your mind break as a man's would. For you there are no escapes, and no 
limits." Now he did cover his ears, he couldn't bear to hear the truth spoken, 
and yet still he was so enamoured by the rich, deep, musical sound of Sauron's 
voice, that when the dark lord moved his hands away he was almost glad.

"You will never leave me; you are mine. Tomorrow all of this will be but a 
memory, and you will awaken unharmed again, ready for me," he said, almost 
wonderingly, reaching out to touch Legolas' bruised and bleeding cheek. Legolas 
caught the tone, and his soul shrank away from the pure, sadistic glee in his 
tormentor's eyes; it made his next quiet words all the more terrifying. 
"Legolas..." he said, savouring the sound of his name. "When Middle-Earth has 
forgotten all about the lost elf Prince of the Greenwood, you will still 
remember, and desire your freedom as much as you desire me."

Legolas listened in growing horror to the future Sauron described, unaware of 
the tears that were now flowing freely down his face. Sauron brushed them away 
gently with the back of his hand, never breaking eye contact. "*That* is 
beautiful," he whispered fervently. "Now do you understand?"

And still there were no words. Trembling, Legolas reached out to touch the black 
hair that gleamed so in the darkness, and Sauron smiled. A beautiful smile he 
had, it almost robbed his words of their cruelty - but not quite.

Legolas closed his eyes and licked his lips; a part of him screamed out in 
revolt at what he was about to do, but he ignored it. He opened his eyes again 
to find Sauron watching him. He moved closer, inclining his head to press his 
lips against the dark lord's. Everything in the world seemed to hold its breath; 
the darkness intensified until the part of the forest they were standing in was 
as black as night. He wasn't sure what he wanted, but there was something to be 
had in encouraging the madness, something he knew about but had forgotten. Hands 
came to tangle in his hair as Sauron took control of the kiss. It wasn't sweet 
or soothing, even in his gentleness Legolas could almost taste Sauron's cruelty 
and viciousness. But Sauron was beautiful, he was desirable, and as he let 
himself fall under the spell again, inviting it, Legolas finally found what he 
sought. Oblivion.

"Your life before, and everything you are has fallen," Sauron mused when he 
broke the kiss. Legolas began to shake his head, but then Sauron kissed him 
again and he devoted himself to it with the same single-minded desire for 
oblivion as before, moaning as Sauron plundered his mouth intimately. He wound 
his arms around Sauron's neck, standing on tiptoe to do so, and Sauron's lips 
left his to brush over his jaw softly.

"We are defined by our relationships, Legolas," he whispered between more of the 
tender kisses. "Who you were - that Legolas is gone." He still couldn't help but 
respond to Sauron, and yet with every word and every touch of his lips, it felt 
as though his life was being stolen away. And it had been stolen from him. 
Quietly, while he slept, everything that mattered to him had gone, and he had 
awoken as someone else.

"The son, the brother, the Prince... these things do not matter anymore." It was 
the most hurtful thing, to have all of his thoughts - all of his *existence* - 
put into so few eloquent words. Because who was he without the things that 
defined him? Here, he was even far from the forest of his home, and while he 
might have said before that he would retain his sense of self, it was rapidly 
becoming apparent that he didn't have the strength of character he supposed - 
not when everything he knew was gone. Here, even something so simple as sunlight 
was denied him.

"Why?" he asked brokenly as Sauron licked at his neck seductively, making him 
shiver in arousal even after everything he had been through. "Why did you let me 
wake up?"

Suddenly the dark lord grinned, and his fingers skimmed over Legolas' cheek, 
gathering the tears so that he could rub them between his fingers. "Do you 
really need to ask?" Legolas shook his head slowly at the delight in his 
tormentor's eyes and shuddered. "Besides, I dislike being forced to kill my own 
soldiers. Admittedly, he took longer to die than he did to create..." Sauron's 
voice trailed off, as if he were thinking. "They were elves once, the uruk-hai. 
Did you know that?" Legolas closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to ignore 
the horror that thought inspired in him.

"Don't," he pleaded, but Sauron carried on mercilessly.

"He probably saw what *he* had lost in you," the dark lord reflected, seemingly 
to himself, while Legolas shivered in terrible comprehension. "A monster who is 
aware of his pain." Sauron smirked. "That's really quite poetic." 

At last, Legolas saw how truly vicious and cold the dark lord was, and he 
staggered backwards, a hand to his lips, remembering how he had invited the 
madness upon him. He would have fallen, but he found his arms were gripped by 
two of the uruk-hai. He cried out in alarm, and yet as they took him back, he 
found himself scrutinising them. They didn't look at him, just carried out their 
commands efficiently and with as little fuss as possible. Was it really true? 
Was there a soul in there somewhere, aware and sentient of what Sauron had 
stolen? He shivered again, and tried to ignore the thought - it was too hideous, 
and yet it seemed fitting from what he knew of Sauron...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The dark lord stood alone in the centre of his forest, once more dressed and 
immaculate. He closed his eyes and breathed in the cool air deeply. The silence 
did indeed suit him. He let out the breath in an audible sigh of contentment. 
When he opened his eyes he looked around at the wood. That same amused smile was 
back, and he hesitated for a moment as if debating whether or not to speak. The 
world waited. Then, with a mocking bow, and a flurry of black robes he walked 
away, out of the wood, leaving the trees to their lifeless torment once more.


CHAPTER FOUR

By the time the orcs had taken Legolas back to the room he had been living in 
for so long, he was exhausted. The escape and what he had endured since was too 
much for his weakened body to handle, and he curled up on the bed, his limbs 
trembling uncontrollably.

He slept then, he didn't know how long for, and for the first time in his life - 
Legolas dreamed. Of course, he had dreams before, but the nature of reverie made 
any dreams meaningful and understandable. These dreams were different. He still 
knew he was dreaming, but they seemed more of a random collection of images than 
anything else. He ran through darkened stone halls, chased by beautiful monsters 
that accused him of stealing. At one point he came upon a room full of twisted 
trees that wept blood, and that was when he decided to wake up.

It surprised him to have to open his eyes, and he realised he had slept with his 
eyes closed for the first time too. Still, it didn't make the darkness any 
clearer to him. While outside, in the woodland of his home, his keen eyes could 
make use of the moon and starlight. Here, there was no light to see by at all. 
All that was constant was the warmth, and with a startled jump of fright, 
Legolas realised that someone was laid beside him in the dark.

"Your dreams were quite interesting," a warm, amused voice noted. Legolas shook 
his head, but he relaxed again, realising that it was Sauron who lay with him 
and not one of the uruk-hai. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it - for 
surely *he* was more dangerous - and yet it didn't seem that way on the surface 
of things. As much as he wanted to be more afraid of Sauron, he simply wasn't.

"You disobeyed me." Legolas lay on his back in terrified stillness, hearing 
something new at last in Sauron's words. It made him want to whimper and beg and 
run and hide. "You endangered your life, and that of my child." Sauron was 
angry, and with every word his voice became a little colder, so that Legolas 
shivered as though he could feel it. "You left this room alone." He paused. "Do 
you suppose my fortress to be somewhere one can just 'wander'?" he chastised.

"I'm sorry -" he tried to say, but Sauron spoke over him effortlessly.

"There are more fearsome monsters that walk these halls than uruk-hai. Consider 
the orcs the fairest of my servants." Legolas shuddered in revulsion, but didn't 
speak again. "I believe that after your wild, wilful disobedience, a punishment 
is in order." Legolas didn't dare to speak, and in fact he suspected he couldn't 
even if he wanted to. The dark lord was threatening him, and the scale of the 
danger he was in took his breath away.

"There are tortures, Legolas, that would ensure you never go against my wishes 
again. You would serve me single-mindedly forever. Of course, they would change 
you, and others would fear to gaze upon you. With what remains of your mind, you 
would sense that, and kill those whom you used to love in frustrated anger and 
fury. Is that an appropriate punishment, do you think?"

Legolas only whimpered in answer, seeing in his mind's eye the uruk-hai, who 
Sauron had told him used to be elves. The dark lord laughed softly. "Of course, 
I cannot consider anything as drastic as that... yet. You have something 
valuable that I will not endanger even to ensure your co-operation. But some 
kind of punishment is definitely called for, wouldn't you say?"

The last words hadn't even entered Legolas' head, and he still trembled in 
petrified horror at the suggestion he would become like them. He knew there was 
another question though, and quite suddenly he found himself wanting to beg for 
mercy. "No," he whispered, his fear such that he couldn't be sure Sauron had 
heard him. But he had.

"You dare to try and refuse me my entertainment?" With that statement Sauron 
moved on the bed and Legolas tried to scramble back as Sauron moved fluidly to 
sit astride him, trapping him. He rested his hands on the bed at either side of 
Legolas' head and looked deeply into his eyes. Legolas couldn't breathe. "Do you 
know how lucky you are that my child is inside you?" Sauron asked, his eyes full 
of slowly burning anger, and Legolas couldn't help but whimper. At last he 
comprehended that he wasn't going to be changed, and the dark lord's actions 
reawakened the desire he had felt earlier. He was only aware of Sauron now. The 
dark lord moved his head closer and brushed his lips against softly Legolas' 
cheek before whispering into his ear. "I would have you begging for my 
forgiveness for so long that your voice would leave you. You would forget how to 
stand on your feet before I was done."

Legolas trembled at the words, more frightened of his own treacherous desire 
than the threat, and Sauron moved back to look into his eyes again. "You shake 
and tremble, but be honest, Prince. Isn't that exactly what you want?" Sauron 
asked knowingly, as if he were reading Legolas' mind.

Before he could reply, Sauron's lips claimed his, and he couldn't stop himself 
responding to that kiss. He gave everything that was demanded of him and more, 
losing himself and his thoughts again. He was almost grateful, but when it was 
over he remembered what Sauron wanted with him, and how everything he loved had 
been stolen away. All of his questions began with one word.

"Why," he whispered, not knowing that he had spoken aloud. Indeed, he only 
realised it when Sauron replied to him, his words as mocking as ever.

"Because it amuses me to see you, a Prince of elves, debased and humiliated. It 
amuses me to watch as you lose your grace and dignity."

At this Legolas felt an emotion he had almost forgotten - anger. He remembered 
giving in, and the paltry promise of oblivion that came with it - and he knew it 
wasn't enough. Sauron would always be playing with him, the same way he played 
with the forest, and in his anger, not caring anymore what it might mean to make 
the dark lord furious, he pushed Sauron away from him with all his strength and 
jumped up to run from the dark, unguarded room into the feeble light of the 
corridor outside.

He was unnerved by the sound of the dark laughter that followed him, and the 
called out promise.

"Run, little Prince. When you stop running I will find you. Let us see how far 
you get this time."

And Legolas did run. He ran through the same maze of halls and corridors he had 
encountered previously. Without wanting to, he remembered the uneasiness he felt 
then, and it returned to him now. He remembered what Sauron had said about his 
servants, and it spurred him on to run faster. Some of the halls he ran through 
were too large to be so empty, and his imagination tried to convince him he 
wasn't really alone. Several times he thought he saw movement but when he looked 
there was nothing. His relief was almost as strong as his disappointment.

He ran for a long time. He didn't bother to search for a way out this time - he 
already knew it was pointless. But maybe there was a place somewhere for him to 
hide, at least for a while, until he could figure out what to do next.

He entered a particularly large hall - when he looked he couldn't see to the end 
of it. It was large enough to have several stone pillars supporting the ceiling, 
and it was dark. No torches were lit in here, and yet there was a little light, 
maybe from a single window high above. He looked up and suddenly felt dizzy when 
he realised he couldn't see the ceiling either.

He walked slowly, trying to keep to what he thought was the centre of the room. 
The absence of perceptible boundaries made him feel as though he was lost in a 
desert, or at sea. As he reached what he considered might be the middle of the 
great hall he slowed down, and then stopped. An indescribable, eerie fear began 
to prey on him, and he shivered. Again he saw movement from the corner of his 
eye, but when he peered through the darkness he saw only one of the stone 
columns. A flash of movement, this time on the other side of the room. Legolas 
didn't look towards it - suddenly he was certain that he didn't want to see. He 
swallowed nervously, his mouth so dry that it caused an audible click to sound 
in his throat - and his heart missed a beat before he realised he had made the 
noise. He had never been scared of the dark, but there was something about the 
atmosphere in here that made him wish he had some kind of light with him. The 
darkness felt sinister and threatening, and who knew what the shadows might be 
hiding.

His train of thought was broken by the lightest touch on his hair, almost like a 
gentle breeze. He jumped and looked around him, trying to see through the veil 
of the dark. He closed his eyes and everything was a thousand times worse. He 
felt people brush against him, whispering nonsense into his ear as they passed. 
He opened his eyes again and he was alone. He wondered why it wasn't cold. 
Didn't ghosts come with the cold? The darkness wasn't cold at all, instead it 
was too warm, making him struggle for his breath, and thick like a blanket, as 
if it had physical presence. He realised he was stuck; too afraid to carry on, 
and too afraid to go back. Something was in here with him. He stopped breathing, 
straining to hear any kind of sound in the darkness, and that was when he heard 
a soft, insane giggle. His heart hammered in his chest and he began to tremble. 
He started to move forward again, trying desperately to ignore the shapes that 
moved with him on either side of the hall.

From ahead he began to hear soft music playing, and something else - perhaps a 
quiet singing. He resisted the temptation to look behind him, frightened of what 
he might see. He had come too far to turn back now.

He finally reached the large door on the other side of the hall without 
incident, looking only straight ahead, but he was aware of the shapes that moved 
with him, closing in. He was so relieved that his arm felt heavy as lead when he 
reached out to the door. The music came from behind the door, but it stopped as 
he reached out to open it. At the same time the ghosts caught up with him and he 
felt hands sliding over his back. Cold, lifeless hands, and he whimpered in 
terror. He turned the handle, refusing to look around and discover his pursuer 
and tormentor, hoping with all his soul that the door was not locked.

To his relief the door opened, and Legolas almost fell through it before closing 
it firmly behind him, and leaning against the door with his eyes closed, trying 
to stay on his feet. He wanted to laugh, but he resisted the temptation, and 
slowly the feeling passed. It was a few minutes before he recovered enough from 
his terror to take in his surroundings.

The room he found himself in was much smaller than the hall. It had the same 
stone walls, and although it was dark here too, there were a least a couple of 
torches on the walls, throwing their flickering golden light over the stone - 
and the room's only occupant.

Legolas felt his heart begin to speed up again as he saw the source of the music 
he had heard. It was an elf, facing away from him. His deep auburn hair would 
have argued against it, but it was tucked behind his ears and they were 
impossible to mistake. Was he real? Legolas wondered, and shivered at the 
thought that this might be a ghost. 

The elf sat cradling a great, golden harp in his arms. His hands were stretched 
out, his fingers on the strings as if ready to play but he didn't move. His back 
was to Legolas; his hair was loose and flowed like silk down his back. 
Cautiously, Legolas stepped closer, and a single bass note sounded on the harp. 
A soft cry escaped the elf's lips at the same time, and Legolas stopped. The 
hair on his head began to stand up as he watched the ghostly figure. Once more 
it was completely still. The dust danced on in the musty air, the gloom 
continued to reign in complete silence, until Legolas doubted that he had heard 
anything. He stepped forward again, frightened of what he might find when he 
faced the elf, but unable to resist looking. The bass notes sounded as he moved 
closer, creeping up the scale in an insidious mockery of Legolas' fear. 

Legolas looked toward the elf sharply at this, and saw his shoulders shaking. He 
was laughing! Laughing at him! Legolas' fear vanished and he rushed towards the 
figure suddenly with a kind of embarrassed anger. He grasped hold of the red 
hair that hid the elf's face from his view and turned the elf's head to look at 
him. Legolas let go immediately and gasped. Here, in this place, was the most 
beautiful elf he had ever seen. The dark auburn hair framed a perfectly sculpted 
face, delicate, but still with an indefinable masculine quality. His eyes were 
bluer than Legolas', and deep enough to drown in. But none of this was what made 
Legolas start in shock. It was the tears. He had not been laughing - the elf was 
crying. 

In puzzlement, Legolas let his glance move over the elf slowly; taking in the 
softly shimmering garments he wore, that only seemed to reveal more than his 
nakedness would. He was long of limb and slender. Legolas' eyes lingered on him, 
drinking in the beauty like a thirsty man partakes of water. He glanced at the 
elf's arms, and then on to his long-fingered hands that still rested on the 
strings of the harp. His eyes widened suddenly. The elf's fingers were bleeding. 
How long had he been playing? Legolas thought, sickened. The blood had left his 
fingers and run down over the strings, staining them crimson. He looked back 
into the elf's eyes in horror, and he found no comfort. 

The elf looked back at him in misery, tears of pain continuing to fall down his 
face. Although he didn't speak, Legolas had never heard the words 'help me' so 
loudly before. As he reached out to move those mangled fingers from the harp 
though, he heard a familiar voice call through the darkness behind him. 

"Don't stop, Maglor. I wish to hear you play more, and I'm sure Legolas does 
too. Now, please me as I have taught you to do." Legolas turned around to face 
Sauron as he spoke, realising that the dark lord had followed him here, and he 
levelled a look of disgust and fury at him, not caring anymore what the dark 
lord might do. But his resolve crumbled when he again heard the notes of the 
harp ring out behind him, unable to avoid hearing the pained whimpers that came 
from the elf Sauron had called Maglor. 

The music was strange, like something he had heard before. He tried to place it, 
but it was impossible; and he knew, really, that he had never heard anything 
like this. It seemed sad, but then an unexpected note would sound, not entirely 
discordant, but still not quite belonging. It shouldn't work, but it did. It was 
a sound that seemed to suit the background of soft, painful cries that 
accompanied it, as well as conveying danger and darkness. He looked at Sauron, 
and somehow he realised that the strange music described him. 

He watched, struck motionless, the by now familiar feeling of breathlessness and 
excited anticipation as Sauron walked towards him - and then past him. Legolas 
turned in surprise and saw Sauron stroking the hair of the other elf. The dark 
lord closed his eyes and listened; whether to the music or the cries of Maglor 
Legolas couldn't be sure - and then he smiled. Sauron reached out to gently 
cover Maglor's hands with his own, stilling them. 

"Truly beautiful, Maglor. You may stop now." Maglor turned to face Sauron and 
sobbed soundlessly against his chest as Sauron moved his hands away from the 
harp, pulling the elf to his feet, and looked at them. 

Without saying a word he brought those hands down to the elf's mouth and waited 
expectantly. Maglor looked up at Sauron as he began to clean the blood from his 
own fingers with his tongue without a murmur of protest. Legolas watched in a 
kind of horrified fascination, unable to take his eyes away from the picture in 
front of him. 

When he was done Sauron glanced down and studied Maglor's hands again. "Look," 
he commanded, and the elf obeyed, but now he couldn't stifle a broken sob when 
he saw what Sauron wanted him to see. Legolas saw it too. The fingers that had 
been bleeding and raw from hours, perhaps days, of playing the harp were already 
healing. Soon there would be no sign of the torture he had undergone, and 
Legolas felt his heart flip lazily in giddy fear, as the scale of what it meant 
to be a prisoner here finally started to sink in. 

Sauron pulled Maglor close to him and took the other elf's lips in a demanding 
kiss as Legolas watched. Maglor was facing away from Legolas, and Sauron's hands 
held the elf's wrists out and away from them both, preventing him from touching. 
Maglor leaned against the dark lord, seeming to melt into him. Sauron had such 
presence that next to him the elf looked like a sacrifice.

Suddenly Legolas realised that Sauron was staring straight at him. He was 
kissing Maglor's neck, but his eyes looked deep into Legolas' soul. As he 
watched, Sauron smiled coldly, and licked a line up over Maglor's throat and jaw 
in an unmistakable gesture of ownership. Maglor sighed and let his head fall 
back, while Legolas gasped. Sauron still looked only at him, and it was clear 
the message was meant for them both. 

Sauron beckoned to Legolas and he walked over to him as if hypnotised. He only 
had eyes for the dark lord, who commanded his attention easily. He barely 
registered the sight of Maglor sinking to his knees in front of Sauron, undoing 
his leather leggings to free the dark lord's erection with a speed and grace 
born of practice. 

Legolas reached Sauron's side as Maglor's lips closed around his hard shaft, 
taking him deeply into his mouth and his throat. Legolas looked down then, and 
for a moment the sight of it entranced Legolas; he marvelled at the beauty of 
the elf on his knees, worshipping the dark lord's member. With a shock he 
realised he almost wanted to be in his place. 

Sauron moaned and he looked up again, only to be caught by the dark lord's 
glittering gaze. He gasped in shock when Sauron's hand gripped his hair tightly 
and crushed his lips in a violent kiss. Legolas raised his hands to caress the 
dark lord's face as he lost himself, only to have them secured behind his back 
by Sauron. Unable to touch, he could only lean in close as Sauron took his 
mouth, filling it with his tongue, reminding Legolas of something else so much 
that he felt his knees go weak. Sauron moaned into his mouth as his orgasm came 
closer, and Legolas couldn't help but wonder what kind of picture they made. It 
was all he could think about, even when Sauron came with a loud groan and 
finally released him. He looked at Sauron, and the dark lord smirked as if he 
knew exactly what Legolas had been thinking. Beautiful. 

"Take care of him, and yourself." Sauron addressed Maglor as he looked at 
Legolas, and he knew he didn't understand this, any of it. But Maglor's next 
words made him shiver, because it was out of place, and yet it was at the same 
time exactly right. 

"Yes, Hîr nín," Maglor said quietly from his place on his knees, licking his 
lips as he straightened the dark lord's clothing. Sauron looked away from 
Legolas for a moment and raised the other elf's chin to look into his eyes. At 
Sauron's encouragement Maglor rose gracefully to his feet again, never breaking 
the eye contact. There was no fight in his eyes as Sauron waited patiently. Then 
he lowered his head in long-observed submission. 

"Thank you, Herdir," he whispered, and Sauron smiled at Maglor as he released 
them. The dark lord walked away from them both as they watched him. He turned 
back suddenly and looked at Legolas. 

"Remember what happened to the uruk-hai," Sauron warned him, throwing a 
meaningful glance at Maglor. Legolas froze and he nodded, understanding the 
threat. Then they were alone. 

They looked at each other in silence. All the questions Legolas wanted to ask 
fled from his mind when he looked at Maglor again, remembering how he had looked 
on his knees. Remembering his misery, and how much Legolas had wanted to save 
him from it. 

After a while, Maglor smiled at him, and it chased away the darkness. Legolas 
smiled back, gladly forgetting where he was for a moment. 

"Who are you, pen neth?" Maglor asked encouragingly, and Legolas replied without 
hesitation. 

"I am Legolas, youngest son of Thranduil, King of Greenwood." 

"Greenwood?" Maglor looked uncertain. "Thranduil...?" Then he seemed to 
remember. "Son of Oropher..." he breathed, as it sunk in. "Then you are a 
Prince?" he demanded suddenly, his eyes full of hope. 

"Yes... why?" Then Legolas understood what the hope was for, and his heart sank. 
"They don't know where I am," he confessed, looking away, not wanting to destroy 
what he saw in Maglor's eyes, but knowing he had to. 

For a moment Maglor's eyes continued to hold a fevered gleam, as if he were 
thinking about something. But then Legolas' words seemed to break through and he 
closed his eyes for a long moment, swallowing, almost as if he had been 
expecting it. He sighed quietly in acceptance. 

"Well, you already know I am Maglor, son of Fëanor," Maglor said, watching 
Legolas' reaction carefully. 

Maglor? Suddenly Legolas realised that he knew of the name. It couldn't be the 
same Maglor; he would be millennia old! At that thought another, darker, more 
frightening one struck him. "How long have you been here?" Legolas asked, 
already not wanting to know the answer. 

He gave Legolas a melancholy smile. "Long enough that it wasn't always 'here'. 
Long enough to see Sauron establish himself in the place of Morgoth. Longer than 
my life before. Long enough..." He seemed full of sadness suddenly, as if he 
were thinking about something from his earlier life. Maglor shook his head and 
began to lead Legolas to the door, taking his hand. 

"Come," he said, briskly. 

"No! I can't! Something is not right in there, Maglor," Legolas cried, pulling 
his hand away, remembering what had happened to him before he got in here. 

"Of course it isn't." Maglor looked back at Legolas, and his next words made him 
even more afraid. "They are the elves that Sauron couldn't keep. He imprisons 
their souls here instead. I can't tell you their story, I'm afraid. I fear I've 
lost the gift of stories," he smiled sadly in apology, "and I don't truly know 
it anyway." He explained all this patiently, and sighed softly when he saw that 
Legolas was still not ready to go with him. 

"You look horrified, but these ghosts are no longer what we would call elves, 
pen neth." Maglor considered his own words for a moment, before adding quietly, 
"so, who among us is lucky?" He looked at Legolas uncertainly. "You do 
understand what your future will be, don't you?" 

"I won't stay here," Legolas vowed vehemently. 

Maglor laughed bitterly. "Yes, I still say that, as he promised I would. But 
here I am, still alive and aware of every cruelty he inflicts on me. 
Sometimes..." he sighed. "Sometimes, I almost grow tired," he said longingly. 

"You will find it impossible not to fight at times, but you should avoid going 
against him, it will give you peace for a while. He enjoys resistance, savours 
it. He enjoys *twisting* things..." his voice trailed off and once more Maglor 
seemed lost in his thoughts. Was it really surprising? Legolas thought not, 
considering how long he must have been held captive here with only Sauron for 
company. He shivered. 

"I know," Legolas replied, wanting to give Maglor understanding. But then he 
found himself thinking of what Sauron had told him of the uruk-hai. He 
remembered the forest, and how Sauron had twisted and corrupted that. It was all 
too much; the trees, and now Maglor. Guilt consumed him when he considered the 
effect Sauron still had on him. He only remembered where he was when he felt 
gentle hands brushing his tears away. 

"Don't cry... Come," Maglor encouraged, taking his hand again, and now Legolas 
complied; he was too tired to fight anymore. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They faced each other in the bed. Maglor had a room that was not unlike Legolas' 
own, only the furnishings were more comfortable. It was less like a cell, and 
more like a bedroom. Sauron must spend enough time here to want to make it 
comfortable, he realised. Not surprisingly, there was only one bed, and between 
them they determined to share it. 

It was impossible not to begin to fall in love with the elf a little, despite 
Sauron's warning. After eating - he hadn't realised how hungry and thirsty he 
was until then - Maglor had bathed Legolas, lingering over washing his hair, 
taking Sauron's orders seriously, so seriously that Legolas had needed to flick 
the water at him. They had fought and laughed until Maglor had held Legolas 
against the wall, and poured a jug of cold water over him. 

It was then that Legolas realised just how much it meant to Maglor to have 
someone else there. The elf's eyes had filled with tears even though they were 
both laughing, and Legolas wanted nothing more than to kiss him, and make the 
tears go away. But, ever mindful of Sauron, he had simply run away from Maglor, 
laughing in childish glee when Maglor cornered him. 

Then Maglor had stolen a kiss, and Legolas forgot everything, captivated by the 
thought that this beauty desired him. But a kiss was all it had been. Maglor 
ended it by laughing at his youthful exuberance and promising to cure him of it 
at the same time. 

It had not all been fun and laughter though. Maglor had a cupboard that 
contained oil which he begged the uruk-hai for in secret. Maglor instructed 
Legolas in the use of it, and applying the oil to himself in front of Maglor had 
been humiliating, especially when he considered what it was for. Maglor even 
managed to comfort him on that, pointing out that actually preparing himself 
would deny Sauron the pleasure of hurting him so much. 

Eventually all of the necessary things had been done, and now for the first time 
they were each able to reflect on what this meant. As if independent of thought, 
their hands reached out to touch gleaming hair, soft skin and red lips. 
Worshipful touches, each making sure that the other was real. Legolas leaned in 
to kiss Maglor softly, his hands already moving down, trailing his fingers over 
the elf's back... 

He stopped in puzzlement when Maglor laughed into the kiss. His laugh was 
musical, like the tinkling of rain on wild flowers. Blue eyes locked with blue 
in question and amusement. 

"Why are you acting like this with me? What are you rushing for?" Maglor asked 
quietly. Legolas was suddenly unsure of himself. What *was* he doing? He pulled 
back and Maglor followed him, but his hands only reached out to cup Legolas' 
face, looking deeply into his eyes. 

"We are elves, we have eternity." Maglor explained patiently, and laughed again 
when Legolas still regarded him without understanding. "You should be reminding 
me of this," he chided playfully, tapping Legolas' nose with one finger. He 
touched Legolas' lips then, and he became serious. "Help me to remember..." His 
voice was sad suddenly, despite the situation. 

Legolas wasn't sure what Maglor wanted from him, this was entirely new. But his 
words and obvious longing awoke something in Legolas, something different. He 
mirrored Maglor's actions, touching the other elf's face, giving himself the 
time to admire the soft skin, the delicate features. All the expectations of 
others vanished from Legolas' mind, and soon he found himself lost in 
admiration. He ran his fingers through Maglor's hair, fascinated by the way the 
light made it shine in tones of fire and copper. His fingers traced the delicate 
lines of his ear, ignoring the sigh that this produced. 

He had such beautiful, almost luminous skin. His hand came to rest on Maglor's 
neck, where his pulse beat rhythmically in a reminder of life and warmth. 
Looking up, he found his gaze caught and held by those blue eyes, and he smiled. 
Now he understood. He lay back on the bed contented just to look for a moment. 

Maglor grasped hold of his hand and they lay facing each other for long minutes, 
enjoying the nearness of each other, savouring the feeling afforded by something 
so simple as the holding of hands. They seemed to speak to each other without 
talking; even the intimacy of eye contact was a way of making love to them. This 
was natural, Legolas thought, and he became sad when he realised it had very 
nearly been taken away from him. 

A single tear fell at the thought of what he had almost become, and Maglor just 
watched, completely taken with him. They moved closer, so slowly that it seemed 
almost not to happen. He didn't know this time when the kiss began, only that it 
was. Their lips moved without urgency, in the same timeless, patient way as 
their hands. So many promises they made to each other in that kiss. So many 
things they told each other. And when it was over Maglor simply looked at him. 

"You carry his child," he said, and his voice was carefully neutral. 

The strange mood that had descended on them was lost to Legolas then, and he 
sighed. "Yes," he replied, resting his hands on his belly. "And one other," he 
added quietly. He turned his face away from Maglor, certain of what was there, 
but then he felt the elf's hands come to rest on him, next to his, seeming to 
touch the life inside him, for it stirred. 

"Do not be ashamed, pen neth. They are partly you and your line too. How could 
anything bad come of it?" It was so strange to hear hope spoken aloud that 
Legolas didn't immediately recognise it. When he did he looked into Maglor's 
eyes again and he saw nothing there to be afraid of. 

Instinctively he moved closer to the older elf, needing the comfort he had been 
denied for so long, and that was when Maglor began to sing. Legolas' eyes 
widened. 

"You, yes! Now I remember..." he said, but his thoughts were taken away from the 
realisation by the sound of Maglor's voice. It seemed he was singing an old, 
forgotten lullaby to the unborn children. Such a fair voice; Legolas had never 
heard anything like it, and he only wanted for it never to stop. Maglor's hand 
still rested comfortably on his belly, and Legolas yawned as he rested his head 
on Maglor's arm, closing his eyes to hear the melody better. He didn't know when 
he fell asleep, that gentle voice encouraging him to hopeful dreams. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maglor finished his song and looked down on Legolas. The prince's eyes had 
opened again when he fell into sleep. Maglor sighed. He was so young, so 
beautiful, and Maglor was at the same time sorry he was here, and glad. For the 
first time he allowed himself to voice the thought that had been in his mind 
since he had seen the Prince. 

"I am not alone." He blinked away the sudden tears that filled his eyes and 
pulled Legolas closer, needing the contact. He lie awake for a long time, 
stroking the pale golden hair, wondering what Sauron planned for them. 
Eventually he slept too, but his dreams were troubled. 


CHAPTER FIVE

Something was tickling his face. Legolas turned his head away into the pillow, 
but the feeling followed him. Sighing, he opened his eyes to find Maglor looking 
down at him, a slight smile on his lips. He was half-sat up in the bed, his 
weight resting on one elbow. The elf's auburn hair was dangling down, brushing 
against his face, and he swatted at it playfully in mock annoyance. Maglor 
laughed, and Legolas thought he would be happy if that was the first sound he 
heard every day. 

"I thought you'd never wake up," he teased, sinking down onto the bed beside 
Legolas and taking him into his arms. They lie together for a few moments, 
welcoming each other. No need to speak, or really to touch, but it happened 
anyway. As before it happened without announcing itself. And it didn't matter 
how much time had passed for them to be in the position of lovers. Minutes or 
centuries, it could have been either. Hands moving slowly over muscle and soft 
skin, lips tasting and teasing each other. Their sighs mingled together, and the 
sound was as perfect as they were. 

Everything about their lovemaking was different. There was no ultimate purpose 
in either of their minds. What happened, happened slowly, and as a natural 
progression of events. Legolas found himself teasing the other elf's nipples 
with his teeth just to listen to the sounds that Maglor made. He found himself 
enjoying the reactions of Maglor's body, the way he arched into Legolas' touch, 
the way he laughed and shivered when he was tickled. 

And he was not alone. Maglor teased and sweetly tormented him in the same way. 
They were lost in the sight and the sound of each other, discovering all that 
could be discovered. Learning the secret places each of them possessed that 
could reduce them to nothing but sensation and pure pleasure. 

There was no ownership in their caresses, no struggle for dominance. Each gave 
as much as they received; each loved with an undemanding desire that didn't know 
the meaning of possession or control. So easy to fall into the magic, so easy to 
be themselves. If their lovemaking was a little coldly aesthetic, then what did 
that matter? They were in agreement, and Legolas found himself carried away on a 
dream, forgetting everything but the way Maglor sighed when he brushed his lips 
over the soft skin on the inside of his thighs just there. The way he shivered 
when he ran his tongue over the hardened shaft between his legs, and the way he 
moaned when Legolas took him into his mouth. 

Maglor's hands held his hair as he moaned an affirmative and rocked up into 
Legolas' mouth, and that was when he remembered where he was, and what he was 
doing. 

The magic ended, and Legolas released Maglor abruptly, getting up to sit on the 
side of the bed with his head in his hands. What was he doing? He remembered 
Sauron's threat and suddenly felt guilty for the danger he had put Maglor in. 
And so when Maglor reached out a hand to touch his shoulder, Legolas couldn't 
help but flinch away. He sat by the side of him, and it was impossible to 
mistake the hurt confusion that flashed in his eyes at Legolas' reaction. 

"I'm sorry. It's just, I..." Legolas shrugged and let his head fall into his 
hands again. 

"Shh. It's all right pen neth. I think I understand." And then he felt Maglor's 
arms closing around him, promising nothing but everything. It was too tempting, 
and before he could lose himself again, Legolas drew away violently. He looked 
into Maglor's eyes, willing him to understand. 

"I can't be with you like this, you don't know..." Legolas didn't know how to 
explain what had happened to him, or even how to tell Maglor about Sauron's 
threat. He sighed desperately. 

"He will kill you if I do," Legolas burst out in misery at Maglor's questioning 
glance. He looked away, and he was surprised when he heard the fair elf's 
laughter. Those arms wrapped around him again and Maglor sighed. 

"He won't kill me, pen neth, be assured of that, for I have begged him long 
enough." He smiled strangely at that. "And whatever he does do, it will be no 
worse than what I already endure at his hands." 

Legolas looked at Maglor, and he reached out to touch him, wanting to take the 
elf's resigned sadness away, but more than that wanting to believe he could have 
this. "Legolas, I know him," Maglor continued convincingly. "He has left us 
here, and he knows exactly what will happen. Probably he has some plan to use it 
against us in a game of his choosing. But we are alone now, and I would gladly 
pay the price, whatever it may be, for being with you." For a long moment they 
looked at each other in perfect understanding. 

Maglor's smile broke the mood, brought them back to where they were, and he 
stood up. 

"We should have breakfast." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, after they had eaten and washed, Legolas relaxed against Maglor. The 
older elf was playing with his hair in a way that made delicious tingles run up 
and down his spine. He sighed dreamily, while Maglor told him stories of the 
First Age, sang songs that he knew, and songs that he didn't. He closed his eyes 
as Maglor talked soothingly, weaving elaborate braids into his hair, and he 
could have sworn he was sitting in sunlight at the side of an open window. 

At Maglor's encouragement Legolas told him about the Greenwood, and how it had 
come to be feared lately by outsiders. He spoke of his father and his brothers, 
and the escapades they had got up to both as elflings and, more recently, young 
warriors in training. He made Maglor laugh, and that made him smile. For this 
one morning Legolas forgot where he was, and perhaps Maglor did too. 

As before, Legolas couldn't have said when their talking ceased and their 
touches became those of lovers. This time he didn't hold back, and there were no 
qualms in his mind when they lie down together. When Maglor finally took him, it 
was so slowly and with such tenderness that there was no pain. To be this close 
was a beautiful counterpoint to all he had endured, and they moved together in 
perfect unison. 

Lost in the sensations, he was aware of the exact moment that Maglor became 
still inside him. Legolas stiffened. There was only one reason Maglor would have 
stopped, and he whispered it into Legolas' ear quietly in a way that made a cold 
shiver travel the length of his spine; "Herdir." 

Keeping his eyes closed, Legolas tried to listen for where Sauron was, but he 
heard nothing. Suddenly a hand cupped his face, and he refused to open his eyes, 
not wanting to see. Fear coursed through his veins as he remembered Sauron's 
threat the day before. 

"I reminded you of my rules, didn't I, Prince?" Sauron asked him, cold amusement 
in his voice. Legolas trembled and the dark lord waited for an answer to his 
question. 

"Yes," Legolas whispered, trying to tell himself that if he didn't look it 
wouldn't really be happening. The hand began to caress his face, and when Sauron 
spoke his voice was low and threatening. 

"Perhaps you didn't want this," he considered. "That's the only reason I can 
think of for you being here, in his arms." Legolas couldn't help opening his 
eyes then, and he caught his breath when he saw Sauron so close to him, kneeling 
at the side of the bed. He never quite remembered how desirable Sauron was. His 
eyes drank in the sight of the dark lord greedily, until Legolas was only aware 
of him, and it seemed that he must be reaching out to touch him. All he wanted 
was to bury his face in Sauron's hair, to breathe in the scent of him. And 
suddenly he was sure he was there, enfolded in the warm darkness and forgetting 
his own name. Sauron smiled, and instantly the spell was broken. Legolas was 
surprised to find he hadn't moved, and that he hadn't been in Sauron's embrace. 
He looked at the dark lord in confusion, but he spoke to Maglor next. 

"Well? Carry on, Maglor. I want to watch the truth in his eyes," Legolas knew 
that Sauron was playing a game with him, and he knew it was one he couldn't win, 
but he knew he would try anyway. 

Maglor moved again, but this time he was not gentle. It was as if he was trying 
to aid Legolas, and he cried out as he felt Maglor taking him with violence. 
Sauron looked into his eyes with amusement, fully aware that this was not how it 
had been before. 

"Do you want this, Legolas?" he asked, and then Legolas knew despair. Sauron 
made it clear that however he answered, Maglor would be punished. He moaned 
instead, partly from the sudden pain, and because he was frustrated from the no-
win situation he was in. He tried to look away from the delight in Sauron's 
eyes, but the hand wouldn't let him go. 

"Please," he almost shouted, wanting an escape, needing to be given one. Sauron 
looked at him for a moment, and then he smirked. 

"Well, we are in a mess here, aren't we?" Sauron said, enjoying Legolas' 
distress. "But perhaps there is a way out of this for you," Legolas already knew 
he would do anything, there was no question. Sauron's gaze turned crafty, and he 
ran a hand through Legolas' hair thoughtfully. 

"Do you think you could make me forget what I've seen here?" Legolas thought 
frantically. What could he mean? And then he knew, and it wasn't so difficult, 
was it? He already dreamed of it, and he had done it once before... 

Sauron sighed impatiently and began to get up, but then Legolas reached out and 
pulled him closer. He willingly kissed the dark lord, initiating the kiss, with 
his arms around Sauron's neck. He felt Sauron smile beneath his lips, letting 
Legolas control the kiss, deliberately holding back. When it was over Sauron 
licked his lips and laughed softly, signalling Maglor to stop. Legolas moaned in 
regret when Maglor pulled out of him. Despite the way the situation had altered, 
he still wanted Maglor's closeness, and he couldn't hide it. 

"Very nice, Prince. But, you know it's going to take much more than that to make 
me forget such a transgression." So saying he pulled Legolas from the bed and to 
his feet so that they were stood facing each other. 

Reaching out nervously, Legolas moved closer to kiss Sauron again, only to have 
him laugh and push him back. Sauron took Legolas' hands and moved them to rest 
on the ties that held his robes together in a silent command. 

Dropping his gaze, Legolas began to undo them. As he did so the breathless 
feeling of being close to the dark lord took hold of him again, and by the time 
he had unlaced the leather laces of the robes his hands were shaking. He drew 
apart the folds of material reverentially and pushed them down the dark lord's 
arms. There was a moment when the material had gathered around Sauron's wrists, 
and Legolas couldn't help pausing there to look into his eyes. 

Hands closed tightly around his arms and Legolas took a sudden deep breath. They 
were stood so close together that Legolas' nipples brushed against Sauron's 
chest. His skin seemed to burn with a fire that Legolas' body recognised, and he 
felt himself responding to the nearness, unable to look away from those dark 
eyes. Sauron let go of his arms and reached around him, brushing the back of one 
hand down the length of his back, and Legolas shivered. He was aware of 
everything. That same electricity in the feel of his fingertips, the cool 
contrast of his fingernails. So different to what he shared with Maglor. He 
unconsciously moved closer, pressing himself against Sauron as if in invitation. 

One of the dark lord's hands stayed on the small of his back, supporting him, 
while the other moved too quickly in front of his face, the palm towards him. 
Legolas instinctively turned his face away to avoid being hit, closing his eyes, 
and he didn't realise he had exposed the long line of his neck until Sauron's 
lips were upon him. 

He moaned, and it changed to a startled cry when he felt Sauron impossibly 
biting into his neck; piercing his skin, and making the blood flow. He felt the 
pain, and on some level he was dimly aware that it shouldn't feel good, but it 
did. Sauron didn't just drink of his blood. He pulled at Legolas' soul, drew 
upon his essence and immortality in a rhythmic way that was at the same time 
soothing and sexual. It was a truth he knew he didn't really understand, yet. He 
eagerly exposed more of the sensitive skin to Sauron's lips and teeth. He wanted 
to die like this, and he knew that he could if it didn't stop. 

Through the dreamlike sensations he heard Maglor whimpering in terror on the bed 
behind him, and he could feel that Sauron had *changed* in some fundamental way. 
Heat had turned to cold, and there was something different about the feel of the 
hands on him. Sauron's grip was claw-like now. What was this? He almost knew 
what it was; he tried to remember, and then at once the word was on fire in his 
mind, demanding to be seen and recognised. He kept his eyes tightly closed, but 
his mind furnished him with a startlingly clear vision regardless. He saw 
himself, held in the grip of some giant, white, loathsome insect. He didn't even 
want to see the shadow of it. It was monstrous, it was against nature, it was 
everything he wasn't, and he should be panicking - but he couldn't care. 

"Don't stop." He didn't know if he spoke aloud or if he merely thought the 
words, but he knew Sauron heard them nevertheless. His dark laughter filled 
Legolas' mind like a caress, and through the haze of his thoughts he caught a 
single word... Beautiful. When Sauron finally released him he sank to his knees, 
weak and dizzy, and overcome with a desire he had never experienced. 

Wonderingly, he put a hand to his neck where his blood still trickled slowly 
from the wounds Sauron had left. He looked up at Sauron, but whatever had 
changed about him when he drank from Legolas had fled his features now, and he 
was once again as perfect as ever. 

Looking down quickly, and almost without thinking, he began to unlace the dark 
lord's leggings. Only when Sauron stood naked before him did he realise the 
position he was in. Sauron's erection was close to his face, and Legolas licked 
his lips unconsciously. He knew what he expected to happen, and Sauron swayed 
his hips slightly, causing his erection to brush against Legolas' lips. But when 
Legolas reacted by opening his mouth Sauron withdrew from him. He walked around 
Legolas and away from him, leaving him kneeling on the floor. 

Anger and humiliation burned in Legolas for a moment, and then he rose to his 
feet in a graceful, fluid motion, turning at the same time, ignoring the sudden 
dizzy feeling he had for moving so quickly. He saw Sauron settled on the bed, 
one arm around Maglor, gently stroking the other elf's back. All Sauron's deeds 
and threats returned to him at the sight of Maglor and he swallowed the angry 
words that had been on his lips. 

Sauron stared at him in amusement as if he were aware of every thought in 
Legolas' mind, and just as Legolas had decided that there was nowhere to go but 
to him, and nothing to do but what he desired, Sauron clicked his fingers. 

Blushing, Legolas walked over to the bed, all the while looking into Sauron's 
eyes. He was compelling, and irresistible, but Legolas' anger did not lessen. If 
he was forced to do this - was he forced, or was it, in fact, what he wanted - 
then he would do it *how* he wanted. He climbed onto the bed and moved so that 
he straddled Sauron. He looked down into the dark lord's eyes. Sauron was 
staring up at him hungrily, and Legolas deliberately let his long hair dangle 
down, letting it brush against Sauron's face. 

There was a glint of anger in Sauron's eyes at that, and he reached around to 
pull Legolas down to him. Their kiss was violent and Legolas matched Sauron's 
rough treatment with his own. He tasted blood, and he wasn't sure whose it was, 
but it seemed to just incite him further. He took Sauron's hand away from his 
hair and forced it back down onto the pillow at the side of the dark lord's 
head. Sauron laughed loudly at that, and Legolas pulled back, looking down at 
him again, this time with annoyance for being interrupted. 

"Do you think you can win?" he asked delightedly, throwing a pointed glance at 
his hand, which was imprisoned by Legolas. He raised himself up slightly and 
looked deeply into Legolas' eyes. "You can't help doing exactly what I want, can 
you?" 

Growling, Legolas took Sauron's lips again, wanting to punish him. He had never 
felt this kind of violent passion, and it took him by surprise with its 
intensity. He didn't really care if this was what Sauron wanted from him, he 
just wanted him. He let go of Sauron's hand so that he could move lower, grazing 
his teeth over Sauron's neck. 

He licked a line up over Sauron's ribcage to his nipple, tasting his flesh, the 
salt of his sweat. He bit down lightly on the nipple, rejoicing when he heard 
Sauron gasp. He was vaguely aware that Sauron had his hands tangled in Maglor's 
hair, kissing him. It didn't matter, he knew that Sauron was completely aware of 
what *he* was doing. 

Leaning back, he let his hands brush over Sauron's legs, raking his fingernails 
over the inside of his thighs. He watched as Sauron released Maglor to moan 
longingly, his eyes half-closed. For the briefest moment of time he caught 
Maglor's eye, and they almost didn't recognise each other. The moment was over 
before it could mean anything though, and Maglor began to lick and suckle at one 
of Sauron's nipples while the dark lord continued stroking his hair. Legolas 
looked to Sauron, and he was staring at Legolas with such obvious desire that it 
made him smile. He moved lower, until he was sitting on Sauron's legs, and at 
last turned his attention to the dark lord's erection. 

Remembering how Sauron had teased him earlier, he leaned over and breathed over 
it, starting from the bottom, and ending at the top. He heard Sauron moan, and 
he moved beneath Legolas impatiently. Legolas smiled, and held back his 
laughter, pursing his lips to blow softly over the hard flesh. Again he started 
at the bottom and ended at the top, but this time he moved his head slightly so 
that his breath moved over Sauron's length from side to side. 

He heard Sauron curse him in the black speech, and that made Legolas grin, 
before he took Sauron into his mouth, almost swallowing him. At once Sauron's 
hips lifted from the bed, driving his hardness deep into Legolas' throat, and 
Legolas almost choked, but then relaxed to allow it as he began to move his 
tongue over the underside of his shaft. He started to move his mouth and lips up 
and down over the flesh, taking tiny breaths as he did so, relishing the sound 
of the dark lord's whispered pleas and moans that were almost words. He felt 
Sauron getting closer beneath his lips and tongue and he moved faster to 
encourage it, but then he felt his hair being pulled roughly, taking him away 
from what he was doing. 

Before he could take in what was happening, Sauron yanked him forward by his 
hair and then let his hands drop down to Legolas' buttocks, pulling them apart 
in preparation. He barely had time to remember to relax himself before Sauron 
pulled him down roughly; filling him with the hard flesh that had so recently 
been in his mouth. Legolas cried out loudly in shock and Sauron laughed, holding 
him down firmly, not moving, until he recovered enough to use him. 

His eyes focused on Sauron, and he glared at him. He remembered Sauron's words; 
"Do you think you can win?" and he realised that he hadn't won anything. He had 
merely done exactly what Sauron wanted, just as he predicted. In his weakened 
state, it was as though the strange magic Sauron used to manipulate his desires 
had more influence. 

He only realised that he couldn't see Maglor when he felt arms close around him. 
At first he wondered what Maglor was doing, then he struggled when Maglor pulled 
his arms back so that his hands were resting on Sauron's legs, forcing him to 
put his weight on them. He panicked a little when he realised he couldn't get up 
from this position, and then he concentrated on relaxing his lower body when 
Sauron began to move back and forth inside him. 

His head fell back onto Maglor's shoulder, and he moaned helplessly when Maglor 
began to run his hands over his exposed body. One of his hands teased a nipple 
while the other started to move over his member. Sauron kept hitting that place 
inside him with every thrust, and Legolas couldn't escape from them. "Please," 
he gasped breathlessly, but neither of them stopped. He couldn't lift his hands 
to protest at what was happening to him. Maglor bent his head and licked at the 
wounds Sauron had left on his neck earlier, and as Sauron laughed softly at the 
image in front of him, Legolas couldn't hold back anymore. 

He came with a loud cry, but the torture didn't end. It carried on for a few 
minutes longer until at last Legolas felt Sauron grow impossibly big inside him. 
Legolas grunted in discomfort at the last few thrusts, as they became less 
rhythmic. 

Sauron came inside him and Legolas found himself being pulled forward. Finally, 
he was held in the dark lord's embrace. Still exhausted from his own orgasm, he 
relaxed against Sauron's chest. He no longer had to hold his weight on his arms, 
and the sudden freedom made his arms heavy and useless. The dark lord rested his 
hand on Legolas' belly, and he shivered. "Mine," he said in a way that made 
Legolas despair. Sauron's lips roamed over his neck and his ear, and he 
whispered to Legolas. 

"You know the word, don't you, my elf Prince?" Legolas was barely aware of 
anything, but he nodded to Sauron's enquiry. "Tell it to me, then," he demanded. 

Legolas responded immediately. 

"Beautiful," he murmured quietly, so that only the two of them could hear it. 
Sauron held him close for a couple of minutes longer, before pushing Legolas 
away to lie beside him. Sauron kept one arm around him, and Legolas rested his 
head on it, looking down to see Maglor cleaning his seed from Sauron's body with 
his tongue. He should be disgusted, he thought, but he didn't have the energy. 

Maglor came back to lie at the other side of Sauron, and their eyes met. There 
was a silent conversation, during which Legolas almost touched the wounds on his 
neck as part of a question, and Maglor's gaze nearly rested meaningfully on 
Sauron. Legolas understood, and it was as he suspected anyway. Despite how he 
felt about Maglor, he couldn't bear the thought that the other elf might 
wilfully aid Sauron, the idea bothered him. Satisfied, he relaxed again, and as 
Sauron absently toyed with his hair, he even began to doze a little. Sauron's 
next words a while later brought him back from the brink of sleep. 

"I think I need to concentrate on you today, Legolas. As we ascertained before, 
you are in need of a reminder, while Maglor here is too accepting of late." He 
caressed Maglor's face as he spoke, and the elf rubbed his cheek against the 
dark lord's hand like a cat, but then he stopped and looked at Sauron with wide 
eyes. 

"No!" Maglor protested. 

"Ah, life!" Sauron chuckled. "You have been entirely too quiet and submissive 
these last few years, Maglor. It's rewarding to know you still crave my 
attention, as ever." He rolled over until he was lying on the top of the elf, 
holding his hands down on the bed with one arm as he looked into his eyes. 

"So... you wish to be in his place, hmm?" he asked thoughtfully, brushing his 
thumb over Maglor's lips. 

"Yes, Hîr nín, you know I do," Maglor said, managing to sound truly grateful. 
With a start Legolas realised that his reaction was not feigned. Sauron just 
laughed and reached out to pull Legolas closer, whispering ominously to him to 
watch, and listen... and learn. 

"Oh, but that is not good enough, Maglor." Sauron reached down and pushed 
Maglor's legs apart, forcing his knees up, and placed the head of his erection 
at Maglor's entrance. "You must make me believe it, if you want me to spare 
him," Sauron said, waiting for the answer that he knew was coming. 

"Please," Maglor begged, and at that Sauron thrust into him, pulling Maglor's 
hips towards him at the same time, so that the elf cried out with the sudden 
penetration. 

"Getting better," he said darkly. "What do you want, Maglor?" Sauron asked as he 
started to move in and out slowly, drawing soft, needy moans from the elf's 
lips. "Are you asking me to hurt you?" 

Maglor opened the eyes that he had closed and his gaze was smouldering and 
lustful. The deep blue of his eyes darkened even more at Sauron's words and he 
sighed longingly, reaching up to pull Sauron down to him, and wrapping his long 
legs around the dark lord's waist. They kissed deeply, and Legolas watched as 
Sauron's tongue entered his mouth, dominating him. His hand held the back of 
Maglor's neck, trapping him in the kiss, and when he pulled back there was 
desire in his eyes too. 

"Say it!" he barked out aggressively, punctuating his words with a forward snap 
of his hips that even Legolas could feel. Maglor seemed to lose his breath for a 
moment, his eyes became unfocused, and then he moaned loudly again, the moans 
coming as words. 

"I... want..." 

"Yes?" Sauron demanded, increasing the pace, and not releasing his hold on 
Maglor, forcing him to keep the eye contact. Maglor's gaze turned to pure fire 
and he gave himself to the submission so passionately it could almost have been 
a challenge. 

"I want you to hurt me!" he cried out, and then relaxed suddenly, his orgasm 
claiming him without direct stimulation of his member. He closed his eyes again 
as Sauron smiled down at him. "Please, Hîr nín," he begged, his voice becoming 
soft and needful once more, as Sauron took him with increasing speed and 
urgency. 

"And what is the truth behind that, Maglor?" he ground out, as he filled Maglor 
with his hard flesh again and again, to the sound of the elf's cries. "Be 
honest," he warned, breathing heavily, "because the Prince here thinks you 
sacrifice yourself for him." While Maglor's eyes were closed Sauron turned his 
lust-filled gaze to Legolas, and stared at him. "Legolas needs to know. He feels 
it already, but won't acknowledge it." He looked back at Maglor. "Why do you 
beg, mûl vain nín?" 

"Because I want to please you, Herdir," he said without hesitation, opening his 
eyes. They looked at each other and Sauron groaned with his climax, thrusting 
into the elf so deeply that Maglor whimpered and tears came to his eyes. The 
dark lord's arms closed around the elf and held him close, lifting him from the 
bed, burying his face in Maglor's hair. 

"Always so good," he murmured heavily a few moments later, "and you do please 
me." Then he moved back and settled himself comfortably, not pulling out of the 
elf, but holding him down again firmly. 

"Now," he began with a smirk, "why don't you tell Legolas why you seduced him 
today?" Maglor gasped and fought to get free, but Sauron wouldn't let him move 
so much as an inch. He merely watched interestedly as Maglor struggled and then 
gave in, obviously enjoying the sight of it. Maglor looked up at the dark lord 
with such a haunted pain in his eyes that Legolas shivered. 

"Please... Don't... not this..." he begged shamelessly, tears beginning to shine 
wetly on his cheeks. He spoke so quietly that Legolas almost didn't hear his 
next words. 

"Please don't take it away from me..." 

"Tell him," Sauron suggested silkily, ignoring the elf's desperate pleas. 

Maglor seemed to sag in his arms, and his eyes closed. He swallowed as if he was 
taking medicine he didn't like the taste of, and yet he answered. "Because it 
was what you wanted, Hîr nín," he admitted, and then began to sob. 

"Yes, that's right," Sauron commented, throwing a glance at Legolas. "You would 
do anything for me, wouldn't you?" he asked, lazily following the trail of 
Maglor's tears with one finger. 

There was no fight left in the elf beneath him, and he answered the question 
quietly. "Yes, Herdir, anything." 

"Good. Because today I want to watch. Today, you will take my usual place and I 
will direct you." 

At Sauron's words Maglor froze, and he stopped breathing, looking up at the dark 
lord in horror. 

"You're not seriously thinking of refusing me, are you?" he asked pleasantly. 

Maglor suddenly looked uncertain. "Refuse?" he repeated, as if he didn't know 
what the word meant, and perhaps by now Legolas realised with a sick feeling, he 
didn't. His last word was barely a breath. "No." 

"Good." Sauron laughed softly as he looked down at Maglor. "Because I think I 
can promise it is something you *would* have enjoyed." 

Sauron shifted a little and Maglor gasped. 

"Oh? Always so surprised. But you know what your suffering does to me. You are 
so irresistible like this, when I break you - so completely mine." Sauron began 
to move again, looking deeply into Maglor's eyes. Legolas turned away from the 
sight of them. He knew he should be angry with Sauron, but he couldn't remember 
exactly why. Maglor's confession and compliance filled his mind, and made him 
enjoy the other's helpless cries as the dark lord took him again. This time 
Sauron made it last, and made it count, and secretly Legolas was glad. 


TRANSLATIONS: 

pen neth - young one
Hîr nín - my lord 
Herdir - master 
mûl (vain) nín - my (beautiful) slave