7. News From Home
Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story "Bound", which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.
Betareader: Many thanks to Randy, who polished this chapter and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: none. Please heed the warnings!
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.
For all other disclaimers and authors notes see Story Intro.
V. News From Home
Legolas woke in the evening. The sun was already setting and soft twilight and evening birdsong filtered past the closed drapes. He felt refreshed and well rested. The pain that had haunted him for days was gone, and he felt considerably stronger. He was hungry and his stomach growled. The queasy feeling at the mere thought of food that kept him from trying to consume anything during the days before his master returned had finally left him completely. With a contended sigh he turned to his side and buried his nose in the big, soft pillow. It smelled reassuringly of Estel, and himself, and of their last, tender coupling, and carried nothing of the revolting reek of sweat and sickness he remembered from the night before. For a moment, he allowed himself to dream of Estel's tenderness this afternoon. He loved it when his master took him like that, more so because he knew it for the gift it was. He knew it couldn't last; Estel had barely been aroused at first, and he would soon wish to use his slave the way he really desired. Chances were he had already dreamed about it during their tender love play; mere tenderness hardly got Aragorn erect, much less brought him to climax these days. Still, that he had taken the time and showed the concern to give his slave that much – it made Legolas count himself lucky again that he belonged to him. Dear Estel! It was good that he was back at last.
Legolas sighed again and yawned. Then he decided to follow the demands of his growling stomach and get up. He rolled around and sat up on the bed, then set his feet experimentally on the floor and attempted to stand. To his great joy, his legs, even if a bit wobbly at first, decided to carry him. So Estel's thorough treatment last night and this afternoon had the desired effect, his strength had finally returned. Carefully he made his way over to the table where he discovered a fresh plate and pitcher waiting. A look to the washstand at the corner showed him that the bigger pitcher with water had been renewed too, and there were two big, invitingly soft, fresh towels draped on a chair beside it. Legolas smiled. Dear Estel! His master had been concerned and thoughtful enough to make sure that his slave found a meal and an opportunity to wash when he woke up, instead of condemning him to make the long way to the bathing chambers and the kitchens on an empty stomach. It was possible that Estel had asked Lindir to take care of this, but Legolas knew Lindir would not have done so without his prompting. Now that Aragorn was back it was expected that his slave took care of his master's needs and saw to the cleansing of their chambers, not the other way round.
Lifting the cloth he inspected the contents of the plate. He smiled again. A bowl with vegetable soup that would be as tasty if it was consumed cold, and also easy on the stomach; four generous slices of fine, white bread with butter; and a generous amount of cheese and fruits. All kinds of food Estel knew he liked and he would have no problems keeping down after his long, involuntary fast. The pitcher beside the plate was covered with a small, earthen lid and turned out to hold fresh, appetizing apple juice. No wine yet; probably Estel thought it too strong on an empty stomach. Legolas was a bit disappointed that there was no milk to go with the meal, but then maybe he would get some for breakfast, if Estel kept this up. His master seemed determined to put some meat back on his bones.
With that merry thought, Legolas went to wash himself and dress, then returned to the table and settled down to dine.
When he was finished, he took the time to change the sheets and cleanse the chamber as was his duty, then he gathered up the plate and pitcher and went out. On his way to the kitchens to dispose of the used plate, he remembered Estel's concern and tenderness this afternoon again. He could hardly believe his memories of his and Estel's conversation. Estel's stunning confession: 'you know, if there was a way, I would free you!'
It made him gasp. He did not know if Estel really would do it if they suddenly would truly find a way to break the spell; chances were his master would not really wish to give him up even if he could do so. Estel was used to him and loved to have him close at hand to serve his needs. It probably didn't matter anyway because the only sure way Legolas knew to break the spell that bound him to Aragorn was to kill himself, and he would never do that, since it would have dire consequences for his father and the other hostages. None of them could rebel or flee without endangering the others. This was the way Imladris had ensured its rule over Mirkwood for twenty yeni.
But still Aragorn's mere words, his mere thought was an act of rebellion against his foster father. Legolas hoped that nobody outside their rooms had heard this most tender and most foolish promise. And speaking of promises...
His own promise to Estel haunted him. Estel did not really know what he had asked, for Legolas would deliberately and willingly rather choose to die than go to Elrond if there was nobody else at hand to feed the spell. Still he had promised, since his master had demanded it of him.
Legolas shuddered. The very thought of being forced to subject his body to Elrond again, endure his hateful touch, feel the cold, cruel darkness in the very soul of the Lord of Imladris enter him, made him sick and he shoved it away. It was much harder to bear than the thought of the night of cruelty at Estel's hands that awaited him – to his knowledge - very soon.
There was no help for it, as he well knew. Aragorn would torture him one of these coming nights, and would do so thoroughly. He would give him time to recover afterwards and probably he would wait several weeks before he took him again as harshly, but there was no way Aragorn would come back after a prolonged time of separation without dreams full of desire for a long, cruel love game with his slave. Still, if he was lucky Aragorn would give him a few more nights to recover his strength. His master loved to prolong the anticipation of his victim, give his slave time to fear and wonder. And Aragorn knew well how much his slave could take, and normally made sure to keep around these limits. Still he expected Legolas to bear his needs, even if they contained prolonged torture. Such was the price his slave had to pay for belonging to him.
Legolas had had his share of other masters who would not have concerned themselves with so much as a thought of what their slave might wish or be capable of enduring, or prefer. Elrohir and Elladan came to mind, and he refused to remember the first nights in the hands of Elrond. Estel, while he knew that Legolas did not enjoy pain and had a hard time bearing it, at least tried to make his own desires and needs bearable for his slave. No, Legolas counted himself lucky to have Estel as his master!
Sighing, Legolas slipped out of the kitchen, took a detour to the privy, glad he was not forced to use the chamber pot again, and afterwards went to search for his master in earnest.
It was already after the evening meal, and Legolas was glad Aragorn had send a meal for him to their chambers. He looked briefly around for his master in the Hall of Fire and at the place in the library beside the statue that held the shards of Narsil, near the big picture of Isildur fighting Sauron, where his master liked to sit and read, but without success. Aragorn was not there. So he went out and to the gardens, to the spot where Aragorn liked to sit and spend some time with Lady Arwen if she was in Rivendell. On his way through the courtyard he heard the call of a familiar voice and turned. His eyes grew wide.
Bregolas!! His childhood friend and long time comrade through many patrols and campaigns against Orcs and spiders back home in Mirkwood, before Legolas became a slave! And Mitharas, and Belldoron! Three of his father's most trusted warriors here in Imladris! They stood there and waved, and forgetting everything else Legolas sped on to them. They were glad to see him.
"Ernil Legolas1! Well met! It is good to see you in good health, My Lord! Your father, king Thranduil, was very worried!" Mitharas cried. "So were we! We had no word of you since you and that Ranger brought that creature to us many month ago!"
Legolas smiled. "His name is Aragorn, and he is my master, as you well know," he said. "I'm sorry I did not send word. There was scarce chance to send a letter these last months, and we had no one willing to deliver it close at hand anyway. But I am well as you can see. Aragorn takes good care of me."
Mitharas eyes were dark. "An Adan!" he said. "I can not believe that bastard Elrond gave you to an Adan!"
"It has been sixty years now that I have been bound to him, " Legolas said mildly. "And he is not merely any Adan. He is one of the Dunedain, graced with long life. He might as well live twice as long as he already has. However, I am bound to him and there is no use mourning it. You may tell my father I am well and he is always in my heart, when you go back home."
Then he asked eagerly: "Now tell me how he is! What news from home? How is my sister Silivren2 and her husband? How are my nephews and nieces?" Somewhat belatedly and bit sheepish he added: "And what are you doing here?"
Mitharas sighed and Belldoron smiled, although he looked a bit sheepish, too. "Your father is well, My Lord," Bregolas finally answered, "although he is very concerned for you. There is not one day that you are not foremost in his thoughts. The same is true for princess Silivren. Her children are the joy of their grand sire and a constant source of merriment and mischief to the palace. They ask for you often. Would that that Dunadan master of yours would take you more often to visit your home!"
Legolas sighed. "He probably would if there was any chance," he said, "but things are dire right now, as you have probably already heard. And Aragorn risked much for all of us even these other four times! His... foster-father scolded him for taking me with him to Mirkwood. He did not wish that I should see my home and family again."
Bregolas scowled. Mitharas placed a warning hand on his arm. "We know that things are moving, My Lord," he said, "The Ulairi have harassed us hard, and one of them has even visited Erebor. Word is they are abroad this side of the Misty Mountains. And... there are news we have been sent to tell. I fear you will find them ill indeed."
"What news?" Legolas demanded alarmed. "You said my family was well!"
"It has nothing to do with your family, My Lord," Mitharas said. "The message we carry is about that creature you and that Dunadan brought to us to keep prisoner on Mithrandir's behalf. The creature was allowed out of the dungeons a few times, because Mithrandir asked us to show it mercy and give it some chance to heal. So we used to let it climb a tree every other day where it could feel fresh air. Of course it was heavily guarded. As it turned out, our guard was not enough. There was an Orc raid, and the guards were slain or taken. When we drove back the Orcs, the creature was gone."
Belldoron added grimly: "Those taken we found later on the path, tortured to death. But the creature was gone. We hunted for it several weeks, but we could find no further trace. It may have been taken by the enemy, or maybe it escaped him, too, and found a place to hide. But it is lost to us."
Legolas paled. "These are ill news indeed," he exclaimed. "Does Lord Elrond already knows this?"
Belldoron shook his head. "The Lord of Imladris would not hear us today. His chief advisor told us we had to wait for tomorrow's council to deliver our tidings."
Legolas bit his lip. "It is dire news you bring," he said, "and hard will be the price we all will have to pay for it."
Mitharas shrugged, his face grim. "That cannot be helped now," he said. "Will you take part in this council, My Lord?"
Legolas laughed bitterly. "I am nobodies lord anymore, Mitharas," he said, "I am a slave, bound to Aragorn Dunadan. He will attend the council, though, and probably he will tell me of it later as is his wont, since I have to share his travels anyway. But that is all. You will probably have to represent my father Thranduil there; I will not even be invited."
Bregolas' scowl deepened and Belldoron shook his head sadly. "That does not seem right, My Lord," he said. At Legolas' scolding glare he said: "A hostage you may be, My Lord, and made a slave, but to us you are still our prince. However your station among these Noldor elves may be, nothing can change who you were born and raised to be. You have our love and trust."
Bregolas added: "And the many centuries I and my comrades fought beside you and under your command are not forgotten. We slew many spiders and many an Orc long before those Noldor took you hostage and bound you with that evil curse!"
Legolas face was fierce. "Daro3!" he snarled. "Have you forgotten where we are?! Think you these walls are deaf? Or those who inhabit them?!"
The chided Elf flinched at the command and hung his head. Mitharas and Belldoron looked around alarmed, fearfully, watching for listeners. They saw no one, but of course that did not necessarily mean that nobody was there. Finally Mitharas calmed himself and said: "Forgive us, My Lord. The joy of seeing you alive and well confused our minds. Is there any place here where we could speak undisturbed?"
Legolas shrugged. "There are a few places I know where eavesdroppers may have a hard time listening," he said, "but I have to ask permission of my master first to spend the night with you. It is his right to claim me should he wish it."
Mitharas' face darkened even more and Bregolas' eyes grew wide with sudden realization. To speak of the curse that bound their prince and many other hostages was one thing, to be confronted with its brutal realities was something else. But Legolas merely stared back at them and did not relent.
"It is his right," he repeated, "and I have to obey him. You know that."
Finally, Mitharas bowed. "I am sorry, My Lord prince," he said. "I forgot. If your... master.. should permit it, where will we find you again?"
Legolas shook his head. "I will find you," he said. "Come! Show me the chambers Lord Erestor gave you; then I will seek out my master and if he permits it I will return to you there. Prepare some supplies and some wine to take with you. There are some places in this valley where we may speak without fear of being overheard by unfriendly ears, but they are not in this house!"
The three warriors gave their prince a deep, respectful bow and showed him quickly to their room. Then, with a last warm smile, Legolas left them to go and find Aragorn.
_________________ o _________________
-- TBC --
(1) Ernil Legolas – Sindarin: Prince Greenleaf. OC Names: Bregolas: Fierce One; Mitharas: Grey Deer; Belldoron: Strong Oak.
(2) Silivren – Sindarin: White Glittering (OC name)
(3) Daro! - Sindarin: Stop!
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.