Mael-Gûl: 52. Rúmil

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52. Rúmil

Authors note:
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegold's story "Bound", which can be found here:

Betareader: many thanks to the wonderful Nancy and the most generous and always encouraging Randy! In addition, my thanks go to Lethe and to the kind people at Lizard's Council. Thank you!!! All still remaining errors are solely my own.

Slash, m/m, BDSM, torture, toys, d/s, *very* graphic descriptions; abuse both physical and sexual. Non-con and debatable consent. Special warning for this chapter: Non-con and gang-rape. Very graphic sex scene. Please heed the warnings!

Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.

Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:
// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********; "speech"; 'thoughts'

For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.


L. Rúmil

It was late afternoon when Haldir finally called for a stop. "We will rest here," he said. "Do not take off the cloth; you do not need to see. We will share our water and supplies with you, so you won't need to prepare your meal."

Boromir uttered a sound of protest, and Aragorn began: "Haldir-"

Yet he was cut off by Gimli. "No! It is bad enough that we are led around with bound eyes like prisoners; I will not take my food from you while I cannot see."

Legolas could hear an angry hiss from some of the guards, who either understood Westron or at least could guess the meaning of the words by the sharp tone of the Dwarf.

After a moment, Haldir replied: "As you wish, Master Dwarf. We will not force our supplies on you. But I fear we will have another two days of walking ahead of us; you may find it hard to go without nourishment for all that time."

Legolas could hear Gimli's angry rumble, and knew the Dwarf was just widening his stance, but at that point, Sam spoke up.

"Begging your pardon, Master Haldir, but if Gimli does not get any food from you, we would like to decline your offer, too. No hard feelings," he said. "Don't worry, Master Gimli, I know how I packed my pack. I can find our supplies well enough even in the dark!"

Legolas heard a quick and quiet discussion between Merry and Pippin, then agreeing murmurs from the two Hobbits. Frodo said nothing, but Legolas could hardly imagine Sam speaking up without his support. Astonished, he turned his head in the direction of the Hobbits.

Then, Aragorn finally managed to intervene. "Thank you, Sam, and well said. The members of our company shall all fare alike. Thank you, Haldir, for your kind offer, but we would prefer to postpone our reliance on your hospitality until we have been presented to the Lord and Lady, and received their judgment."

There was a short pause, then Haldir said coolly: "As you wish. Take a seat then; we cannot stay for long, as it is a long walk until the evening."

"Don't worry, Master Hobbit," another voice spoke up – Orophin's, Legolas realized. "I will lead you to your companions, so you can share the food with them. And please do not be wroth with my brother; he is merely enforcing our law. These are hard and strange times, and we cannot risk endangering our lands by giving our trust too freely."

Sam sighed, and the other Hobbits let out their breath, too. Legolas could hear rustling all around him and concluded that the company had settled down. A hand on his shoulder indicated to him to do the same, and he obeyed.

Legolas felt Orophin's hand leave him, and the Lothlorien Elf's steps moved away. Legolas could hear him stop, and then he heard a rustle and Sam's grumpy mutter, and concluded that the Elf was indeed helping the Hobbit to unpack and find his items. When Sam finally rose and walked around, Legolas could hear Orophin's voice moving from place to place, and he concluded where his other companions were by their quiet grunts of gratitude in response to Sam's voice offering them their part of the meal. Orophin spoke softly and soothingly.

"We live now in an island surrounded by distrust and many dangers. Sauron's creatures have infested the lands around us, and we have few allies left outside these woods. Even the mountains to the west are teeming now with Orcs and other creatures of the enemy, as you have seen, and to the South, the plains of Rohan are no longer welcoming to our people. Some say that in the past the Elves passed into the West and suggest we should do so, again. Yet even if we should leave our lands and safely reach the shores of the Sea, it is said that we would no longer find any shelter there. I'm told that there are still the Havens ruled by our kinsmen, far in the west, beyond the land of the Halflings. But where that might be, I do not know."1

Sam muttered something unintelligible. His and Orophin's voices and steps came ever nearer. Legolas suddenly realized that all other conversation had ceased; all he could hear were the quiet sounds of the Fellowship and the rustling and noises of the forest. It was as if the other Elves around him had ceased all movements and held their breath. He sat frozen, irritated. Then he heard Sam's voice directly before him. "Master Legolas?"

"I am here, Master Hobbit," he said, and could hear Sam's small huff, as he guessed a reaction to his use of the word 'master'. Gentle hands took his own and directed them upward to another, smaller pair, and he was handed a plate with something on it. While he spoke his thanks and groped for the contents of his plate, Sam asked quickly: "Are you well, Master Legolas?"

"I am fine, Sam. Thank you," he assured. From what he could feel and smell, the food consisted of dry berries, nuts and bread.

"Come, Master Hobbit," Orophin said, "it is time for you to partake of the meal, too." His voice and his and Sam's steps moved away. After a moment, Legolas heard Orophin ask: "So, Aragorn, can you say where those Elven havens are?"

Aragorn gave an noncommittal grunt. Instead, the question was answered by Merry. His voice sounded rather irritated.

"You ought at least to guess, since you have seen us. There are Elven Havens west of my land, the Shire, where Hobbits live. But I have never seen them."2

"You had better finish your meal," Haldir's voice intruded. It was sharp and cold. "We will go on in a moment."

The Hobbits made a sound of protest; but Legolas thought he could hear a breath of relief from some of the guards. He drew his brows together. Haldir's voice came again, closer now. "Quick, eat up, Mirkwood spawn," the Marchwarden hissed. "We do not have all day!"

Legolas cringed. Quickly he swallowed his dried nuts and cleaned his plate. A moment later, somebody took the plate away, he felt himself dragged to his feet, and the company moved on again.

_________________ o ________________

Night had already fallen when Haldir called for a stop again. Legolas could hear him issuing quiet instructions to the guards, then calling out to the Fellowship, telling them to settle down and take their rest. But when Legolas began to remove his gear, he was hindered.

"Not here," Haldir said quickly. "You will come with us. Rúmil!"

Legolas heard a pained hiss, then a hand settled harshly on his arm and dragged him on. "Follow me!" Haldir's voice commanded.

He obeyed. His feet felt numb while he stumbled along. Beyond him, he could hear the voices of the Fellowship and of the guards, growing ever more distant, then ceasing, drowned out by the constant mumbling of the river and the rustle of the canopy above. He had no idea of the direction in which they were going, and he did not pay attention to the bushes or brambles their feet passed. All he could think of was the distant voice of his master, whom he had heard asking for him, though he had not dared to reply. When he could hear the others no longer, despair closed all around him.

He could not tell how long he had been dragged on when the hand on his arm tightened and forced him to stop. It pushed him down. "Kneel," Haldir's voice commanded, "and undress. Do not discard the blindfold. Rúmil! Start a fire!"

Wordlessly, he obeyed. He heard somebody dump a pack, followed by a noise like unfolding cloth. "Here, allow me," Orophin's voice offered, and a hand took his shoulder and guided him forward onto a smooth surface – some kind of blanket, from the feel of it. "This will be more comfortable."

He mumbled his thanks. He did not need to see to discard his pack, his weapon and his clothes. Somewhere to his side, he heard the clang of stone on iron and soft cursing; then he could descry a light shining through the cloth over his eyes.

Haldir's voice spoke up again. "Are you joining us then, tonight?"

"No," Orophin answered. "Thank you. I would rather keep watch."

Haldir grunted. "You could use a good relaxing, too," he said. "This slave is exquisite. And I am sure he would be eager to show you his gratitude. Would you not, Mirkwood spawn?"

Legolas cringed. He heard a sigh. "Thank you, brother, but no. I will keep watch and make sure that you and Rúmil won't be disturbed by unwelcome surprises. I shall take care of my needs myself, when I can find the privacy."

There was a rustle, followed by soft steps walking away. Haldir snorted.

Legolas swallowed. Suddenly, he felt very alone.

He heard somebody opening a pack; then he more felt than heard somebody stepping close to him and settling down beside him. Hands touched him, stroked over his chest, his thighs... He heard a sigh.

"Rúmil!" Haldir's voice said sharply. "Come over here!"

Rúmil did not speak. Legolas merely heard a shuffle, and then somebody knelt down at his other side.

"Touch him!" Haldir commanded. "He is here for you. He does not bite."

Legolas shivered. A third hand touched his skin, hesitantly, unsure, and was quickly withdrawn.

Haldir cursed. "All right," he said, "it is not my usual preference, but maybe this will make it easier?"

The hands left Legolas' body just to return, grabbing his wrists and pushing them together behind Legolas' back. "Stay like this!" Haldir commanded. There was another shuffling noise, then Haldir was back, binding Legolas' wrists tightly with some leather straps. He grabbed Legolas' hair and pulled it back, pushing his torso forward.

"Spread!" he commanded. "Spread your thighs! Present yourself to us!"

Legolas obeyed. He suppressed a sob, although he felt as if he would suffocate. Somewhere at his side, he heard a quick intake of breath, and somebody swallowed.

"Do not fear," Haldir said behind his back. "He's used to this. In fact, he is used to far worse, due to the tastes of his master."

There was another quick intake of breath. Then Rúmil's hands were back, touching Legolas' chest, his thighs, feeling their way across his skin, down to his flaccid maleness. Legolas felt his skin crawl. He quivered.

The hands roaming over his skin grew bolder. Rúmil gave a sobbing grunt, and then one of his hands closed over Legolas' cock, stroking it slowly.

Legolas swallowed another sob. He did not dare to move. The hand around his maleness squeezed, gently at first, then a bit harder, just this side of causing real pain. He hissed.

He heard a deep intake of breath, then Rúmil started to massage him. Meanwhile, Rúmil's other hand wandered around to Legolas' back, stroking searchingly down his shoulder blades, his sides, down to his ass, as if to feel for scars.

There were none, Legolas knew. Aragorn, for all his cruel preferences, was a superb healer, and he very rarely was harsh enough to leave open welts. Even the wounds from that horrible night back at Rivendell before they started on the quest were gone already. Still, Legolas could not help himself: he cringed, the memory of too many painful welts brought to the fore, and Rúmil groaned. His stroking on Legolas' maleness intensified. The hand that had explored Legolas' back was withdrawn, and fingers touched his chin, his face, his wet cheeks and his trembling lips. His breath hitched, and he gasped again. He heard the breath of the body at his side quicken, resonating with his own discomfort.

He felt the hand on his face stroking down to his throat, his collarbone; then it was gone, and lips replaced the searching fingers.

Legolas cringed. Instinctively, he leaned back, but behind him, Haldir did not move, his hands still forcing him to keep position. The lips exploring his collarbone, his chest, his shoulders, then moving on to his nipples, were oddly gentle; there was no biting or nibbling along the way, no licks of a teasing tongue. Instead, it was as if the other Elf breathed in his fear, drank in his shivering. And yet, he could not help his own reaction, his deep and intense discomfort. He tried to tell himself that this was not that bad; it was not worse than the night a few weeks ago when Aragorn had extended the spell to Boromir and Gimli. But that at least had been in the presence of his master. This was different. Each touch felt like a renewed violation, each breath on his skin like another proof of his exposure, his status as a mere body, to be used at the whim of whomever chose to use him.

His shivering intensified. He felt more than heard the responding intake of breath of the Elf exploring his chest. The lips closed over one of his nipples, and teeth bit down, hard enough to wound. Legolas hissed again and let out a whimper. He heard Rúmil's answering groan. The stroking of his maleness quickened, and to his own horror, Legolas felt his betraying flesh starting to respond.

The teeth grazing his nipple were followed by a warm tongue, teasing, soothing, licking, tasting him. He whimpered again. The mouth left his right nipple and moved on to the other one. He felt his own flesh fill under the teasing tongue, felt his cock swell in response, and felt wetness spread and tickle down his chest on his abandoned left nipple. A third voice – his own – whimpered again, and he heard Rúmil's answering breath, harsh, quick, intense. There was a bite to his other nipple, followed by soothing licks, then the mouth finally left his chest and wandered downwards, down his quivering stomach to his cock. He perspired. The tongue, tasting, licking, seemed to take his sweat in like a trail of sweets.

The hand behind his back pushed harder, forced him to expose his stomach, lift his crotch, make his own maleness more easily accessible. At the same time, he felt his hair pulled down, forcing his face skyward. Memories sprang up, assaulted him, and for a moment he thought himself back in the hands of Elrohir and Elladan, expecting every moment to hear Elrohir's silken but cruel voice. But it did not come, and he was thrown back to the present – these were not the cruel sons of Elrond, playing their games with him as their pet, while at the same time protecting him from the use of others; these were Haldir and Rúmil, two strangers, using him at whim and on a bargain that could all too easily become permanent.

The thought elicited another sob from him, and he heard another answering groan. The searching mouth had reached his crotch and closed over his cock. He sobbed again. In response, the mouth enclosing him began to suckle, riding him up and down, the hot, wet tongue swirling around his tip, and he felt himself go stiff and harden completely. The sucking of his flesh intensified, his body betraying him again. He feared what was to come – the straps, trapping his engorged flesh, hindering his completion – but the mouth engulfing his maleness did not withdraw, and he felt his mind flooded with sensation. Finally, he felt himself explode – a joyless release, forced from him against his will, and yet impossible to withstand. He came with a cry, and heard another answering groan from between his legs, where that hot mouth now drank his fluids as if they were nourishment.

The mouth vanished, and so did the grip at his hair, moving to his shoulder. He sensed movement at his front and his back, the clasp at his back was replaced by a hard clench at his side, and the hand on his shoulder grasped his other side. He felt a flush of cold air at his back, then a warm body pressing against him. The hands at his side dragged him forward, forced him to lean against the chest of the one holding him, and a third hand touched his neck, stroking along his shoulders, pushing his hair aside. The hand moved on, around his side to his chest, stroking over his aching nipples, drawing a hiss from him. He heard a groan. A chin leaned on his shoulder and he heard and felt the hot breath of the one behind him in his ear. Fingers searched in the crevice of his ass, pushed against his entrance. He whimpered again. The fingers entered – they were wet, but lacked oil, and he groaned from the pain. The fingers were withdrawn, and he felt a grip around his spent cock, gathering his fluids. Then he felt them back at his entrance again, pushing in, and now they went in more easily. In and out, faster and faster, widening him, preparing; then they were withdrawn and replaced by stiff, blunt flesh, and he gasped.

He was entered, filled, and he tried to move away, but couldn't. His mind tried to flee, but it did him no good: memories flared up, memories he had tried to keep away. The flesh pushing into him, the body pressing against his back seemed alien and strange, and the hands holding him in place at his side, the arms slung around his chest from behind felt oddly impersonal. In his mind they blurred together with all the hands that had ever touched him, roamed over his body, taken pleasure from him against his will or his consent, an endless row of hands, mouths, flesh, pushing, touching, tasting, entering, taking... it was too much. He tried to cry out, tried to shout his pain, but he could not get out a sound.

He tried to shove the memories away, tried to concentrate on the here and now, but couldn't; the flesh impaling his body, moving in and out, the nearly unintelligible words murmured against his ear which he refused to listen to, the hands playing with his pained nipples, squeezing and caressing in turn, were all too much and forced him away. He tried to flee, tried to reach a space outside this hull, where no touch could reach him – and was thrown back. The cold blue light, all too familiar now, stopped his escape, trapped him inside his body; and yet, he could feel another light, white and icy, an adamant, unmoving presence in his mind, mingling with the blue light that held him, engulfing both him and the ones around him, cold, cruel, merciless.

Then he was back in his own body and he heard himself cry, while the one who took him groaned aloud and came with another push and a shout. Warmth flooded him, and the pressure in his back wilted and was withdrawn. The body against his back slumped a little. And now he could hear the words whispered in his ear, nearly too soft to be heard, although they took a moment to register:

"I envy you, oh beautiful one. Oh, how I envy you..."

His shock and irritation was cut by the voice of Haldir.

"Yes, that is it. Yes. I knew that you could do it!" He spoke to Rúmil, and he sounded pleased. "You see, brother? I told you he was good for you! I told you that you would enjoy it!"

The presence at Legolas' back – Rúmil, his mind registered again – withdrew. Legolas felt cold and alone, for a moment, and he nearly faltered, kept in place only by Haldir's hands still holding him. He heard Rúmil grunt something, then another shuffle, and quick steps, leading away. He tried to focus, tried to understand where he was and what was happening, again, but he had a hard time succeeding.

He heard Haldir sigh. For a moment, Haldir did not move or speak. Then, his grip at Legolas sides loosened, and one of his hands wandered up to Legolas' face.

"You did well, tonight," he said. "I knew that you could do it – that you would be good for my brother. I really wish..."

There was a shout. "Haldir!"

Haldir groaned, and his hands disappeared. "What is it?"

"You need to come. There is trouble in the camp. That Ranger..."

Haldir cursed and Legolas heard another shuffle, sensed movement; he guessed that Haldir had stood up. He heard quick, focused movements and the sound of clothes on skin and leather being strapped on. Then somebody stepped behind him and released his wrists. A bundle was pushed against his chest and he grabbed it obediently.

"Dress. This may take a while. But keep on the blindfold, and do not dare to move. I am not done with you tonight, and I look forward to enjoying you myself, later."

And with that, his steps moved away, leaving Legolas kneeling alone in a sea of despair.

____________ o ______________

Legolas knelt in the grass, shivering. He had no idea how much time had gone by since Haldir had left, and his mind felt oddly disconnected. All sense of time and direction were gone, leaving him in a strange state of isolation.

The blindfold covering his eyes seemed like a brand. The added vulnerability made it nearly unbearable. He had been blindfolded before, had endured it many times with Aragorn playing his games – but then, he had been in the hands and under the will of his master. He had even endured it in Moria, with the palpable darkness pressing on his mind like a living thing (as indeed, it had been); but there, Aragorn had acted on his distress, and had removed the cloth. Here, there was no hope and nobody to relieve him. He was little more than a thing, to be used at a whim, and whenever Haldir and his brothers should wish it...

'It is just one more night. Just one more night, and then you will be back in the hands of your master,' he tried to tell himself. But it was not working. He felt numb, spent, exposed, and in the back of his mind he could see himself waiting to be used again and again, by an endless parade of impersonal bodies...

He tried to banish the thought from his mind, tried to concentrate on his surroundings. But he couldn't. The ever-present background mumbling of the nearby river, together with the rustling of the leaves, impaired his hearing. He could not even rely on his ears to warn him, now. It made the sense of vulnerability even worse.

Nearby, he heard another noise, uncomfortably close, and he cringed.

Somebody hummed a tune, quietly, under his breath, but still easily identified. It was the song of Nimrodel.

Slowly, Legolas' mind swam back into focus again. He hesitated. That song? Here? Despite his fear, the anticipation of another touch, the quiet song sparked his interest. He had not heard it in a long time. It was forbidden, in the Golden Wood, and those who sang it...

A warm hand clasped his shoulder, and he started.

"Here, let me remove this -" The blindfold fell. He looked up and saw Orophin, crouching at his side.

"I brought you something to wash yourself."

Legolas looked at him with gratitude. The return of his vision, even if only of the surrounding glade under the stars, the tiny fire, was a relief, and so was the bowl of fresh, cold water and the cloth he found in front of him. And yet...

"Thank you, my lord," he said. Orophin made a face, and Legolas ducked his head a bit, but there was no further reprimand. Legolas dared to look up again. "My lord... forgive me the question, but aren't you supposed to keep me blindfolded? Haldir said..."

Orophin raised a brow and threw the blindfold aside. "Don't be foolish. Whatever Haldir said, you have been here before; you know where we are going. So, what would be the point?" He shook his head and pushed the bowl more firmly into Legolas' direction. "And please do not call me lord. I am not your lord, nor do I desire to be."

Legolas stared at him. He hesitated to ask further questions. "Thank you," he finally managed and reached cautiously for the bowl. The wet cloth felt wonderful on his skin, and he dared to remove his shirt and tunic to bathe his torso. He did not know when Haldir would return, or if Orophin had his brother's consent, but better take a gift when it was offered. The water did little to wash the sweat and dirt, the feeling of strange hands and touches on his skin away, but it was at least a start, and he used it all up. All too soon, he was done and slipped back into his shirt and tunic.

Feeling a bite more secure, he dared to ask: "That song..."

Orophin nodded. "Nimrodel. I thought you would recognize it."

Legolas cocked his head. "I thought the Lady did not approve of hearing it sung in these woods?" he asked carefully.

Orophin shrugged. "Maybe." He bowed over a bag he had brought and busied himself preparing a meal.

Legolas hesitated. "It has been a long time since I heard it last," he began, "but never..."

"...never sung by anyone but your own people?" Orophin finished for him. "I know. But it was a song made by mine. Think! Who did you think taught it to the other hostages?"

Legolas just stared at him. Orophin shook his head.

"No, not me. But this song was created by my own people. It's just rarely sung by them anymore."

Legolas still stared. "But that would mean..." he began.

Orophin nodded. Legolas trailed off. He did not dare to speak, to finish his question.

Orophin sighed. He reached out and gently touched Legolas' shoulder. "Don't worry. I am not testing you. I learned the song from one of the hostages, and I know they share it among themselves. So do we – those who are not content with the way things are. You know the history of the Lady Nimrodel, do you not?"

"She asked the last king of Lothlorien to bring her to a land of peace, but she got lost. She died," Legolas replied mechanically. "So did he."

Orophin made a face. "Yes," he agreed. "That is the official version."

He looked down at his preparations. "Few dare to say that she was one who spoke against the Lady, and she would have brought the news of what was happening here to the ears of the Valar. Elves enslaving Elves, the horrors visited on the hostages. She would have made that journey as once Earendil did, would have asked the Powers for their help. And Amroth would have supported her. He did not have the power anymore to rise against the Lady – her warriors were more numerous than his, and they controlled the wood. So he relinquished his rank and disguised his task as a promise to indulge his lover, a quest to seek a land of peace."

He shrugged. "The Lady made sure they never reached their destination. It is said that Nimrodel got lost in the mountains, and was killed by wild men. Word reached us that Nimrodel was lost, and Amroth had drowned in the Sea, trying to swim back to the coast so not to lose her. They are few now who dare to challenge that."

Legolas hardly dared to breathe. He still stared at Orophin, wide-eyed and unmoving. "You are a rebel," he finally breathed.

Orophin shrugged. "I am one of the few who are not content with the rule of the Lady," he admitted.

Legolas swallowed. "Rúmil..." he began.

Orophin turned to him, sharply. "What about Rúmil?"

Legolas cringed. "I... was awake, that night in the talan, when Haldir... punished him. I – heard. I... could not help it."

He bowed his head, waiting for a blow, but none came. He looked up again.

Orophin's face was grieved. "Haldir did not punish him," he said. "He gave Rúmil what he needed."

Legolas stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked. "But --" He trailed off.

Orophin nodded. He seemed stricken. "Rúmil is under the spell," he said. "Not the same that holds you – one made by the Lady. She uses it for punishments." He looked away. "Let's simply say, he needed what Haldir gave him. Haldir took it upon himself to care for him."

Legolas stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked. "But --" He trailed off. "He's free," he finally whispered.

Orophin nodded. His voice was bitter. "Yes, he is free, but that did not stop the Lady. Did you think your people were the only ones who are suffering under this cruelty?" He shook his head. "No. This perversion has gone on long enough. It has to stop." He looked at Legolas. "You are the only one who can bring about the change."

Legolas stared at him incredulously. "Me? But - " He shook his head. "I am just a slave. How can I--"

Orophin looked grim. "You and your party. You are our only hope. If not you, who will do it?"

Legolas still stared at him in disbelief. Only a short time ago, this Elf had stood guard while his brothers had used Legolas' body as if they owned it, and now he asked the very slave they had abused for help? And how should that help be brought about? "What do you mean?" he asked.

Orophin made an impatient gesture. "I know what your mission is about," he said. "I overheard Aragorn's discussion with Haldir, and while he did not speak plainly, he said enough. Your quest needs to succeed. And once it has succeeded, you are the one who will bring about the change we need. They cannot deny you."

Legolas swallowed. Hope. Here was another one who set his hope in him. He thought back at Moria and cringed.
"Not I – Aragorn is our only hope," he said. "He is the one you need to look to."

Orophin gave him a careful look. "That Dúnadan? Who sold you out to Haldir for the entrance to this wood? Do you think there is any hope left in him?"

Legolas nodded with conviction. "He is our only hope," he said. "If he cannot bring about the release, nobody can!"
Orophin looked doubtful. "Then I will set my hope in your Ranger, Mirkwood prince," he said, "as long as he is supported by you."

Legolas looked at him, eyes wide. "But – Orophin, if it is as you said – The Lady! She can read thoughts, she'll know..."
Orophin shrugged. "She must know what I think about the enslavement of my brother," he said. "She must have known for a long time. If she decides to punish me as well, so be it. Just as long as you do what you set out to do."
Legolas stared at him again. "I -"

But he could not continue, because Orophin suddenly looked up and quickly laid a finger on his lips.
"Just remember – do not speak about this! Not a word!" he hissed. Then he straightened up and stood. "Haldir! You have been long. What kept you?" he asked.

Legolas cringed and bowed his head. The Marchwarden stepped out between the trees and passed over the meadow.
"There was some trouble with our guests. The Dúnadan is arguing again," he said. "I see you allowed the slave to discard the blindfold?"

"We both know that he has been here, before," Orophin replied. "Where is the point?"

Haldir raised a brow, then he nodded. He turned to Legolas and touched his face; admiringly, he ran a hand over his cheek. "You are exquisite," he said. "You are truly wasted on this Ranger. I wonder if he could be persuaded to leave you to me. I would care well for you, you know."

Legolas did not reply. He bowed his head, his eyes directed firmly at the ground. He shivered.

Haldir moved his hand away. "In any case, as soon as we return to the camp, you will have to wear the cloth again," he said coolly. "I cannot allow you to have more leeway than the others. But I almost regret it."

He turned back to Orophin. "I will spend the night here, apart from our other guests. I have asked Rúmil to keep watch – if you wish to join me, or to have some rest yourself, feel free."

Orophin bowed his head to his brother. "I think I will leave you to enjoy your prize," he replied politely. "Be gentle. He is still a hostage of his people, and belongs to Aragorn Dúnadan." And with that, he stood up and left the two of them alone.

Legolas looked up and watched him go. He shuddered.

Haldir turned to him, again. He shook his head. "He is a fool," he said, "he does not know what he is missing. I saw what you did for Rúmil tonight. You did well. You were good for him."

He crouched down and touched Legolas' face again; then he began slowly to fumble at Legolas' clothes, opening the straps, gently helping him to remove them. Legolas did not dare to resist, but could not help his shivering when his body was step by step revealed again.

When he was naked, his clothes carefully folded to a bundle, Haldir knelt before him for a while and looked at him with appreciation. He reached out and followed the lines of Legolas' torso, his sides, his back with careful strokes.

"You know," he said, "maybe I can ask the Lady to give you to me. I am sure that Ranger could be persuaded to extend the spell to us. He is mortal, is he not? And he is bound to marry at some point. He must be aware that he can't keep you then. I am sure he would be glad to leave you in the hands of an Elf who could ensure your survival, once he goes the way of all mortals. I would take good care of you. You would have to serve only me and my brother Rúmil, and maybe Orophin, should he ever come around and change his mind. How would you like that? You would do far better with us than you would with your master, considering his usual tastes."

Legolas did not reply. His mind went into denial; all he could think was: 'I belong to Aragorn! I belong...' but he could not speak. He pressed his lips together and looked down. He swallowed.

Haldir sighed. "Never mind. I shall present my case to the Lady when we arrive. But think about it! It would be good for you." His thumb caressed Legolas' lips. "However, tonight I will enjoy your sweetness one more time. I haven't had you once just for myself, so far!"

And he moved on to caress Legolas' body, finally removing his own clothes in the process. This time, he was surprisingly gentle; but all Legolas could think about when Haldir tasted him, caressed him, entered him, was of the words the Marchwarden had said, the threat he had offered – the prospect of serving him and his brother Rúmil for all time; and Legolas' mind cried out for Estel, cried out for his master.

He tried to let his mind drift, tried to imagine that he was taken by Estel, that it were Estel's arms who held him, Estel's flesh that entered him – and yet he couldn't. When Haldir finally came, his groan mingled with Legolas' sob, and when the Marchwarden later settled beside him to sleep, rolled into a blanket, he left Legolas staring out into the night, sleepless and without hope, staring into the dark and waiting for the pale light of the morning.

______________ o _____________

-- TBC --


1) This whole paragraph is again closely paraphrasing and in part quoting from the book, p. 339, where it is spoken by Haldir. But I have altered part of the content, and of course put my own twist on it. Please bear with me!

2) Again, this sentence is a slightly altered quote from the book, page 339.

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Crowdaughter

Status: General

Completion: Work in Progress

Era: 3rd Age - Ring War

Genre: Drama

Rating: Adult

Last Updated: 05/11/11

Original Post: 12/23/06

Go to Mael-Gûl overview


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