Something Evil This Way Comes

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.

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“We have to go to Minas Tirith,” Legolas said over breakfast one morning. It had been over two months since he, Alex and Charika had recovered from their various injuries and illnesses. He had sent a brief message to Aragorn, telling him they had encountered a Khandun warlord, but otherwise sparing the details of the meeting, so the king did not know of their recent convalescence.

Alex looked up from her journal, where she was writing her opinions on why the mythology of Lembas was a cruel trick the Elves played on mortals.

“Why?”

“Treaty signing with Harad.”

“Oh. I don’t have anything to wear.”

“You have a room of nothing but clothes.”

“Well, I don’t have anything new to wear.”

Legolas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was about to respond when Orophin and Haldir came in.

“Good morning,” Haldir greeted them as he settled himself into his favorite chair and helped himself to the stuffed dates on the tray in the center of the table.

“Good morning. You always show up when it’s time to eat. Does no one cook at your house?” Alex could not help but pick on her friend.

“I am an excellent cook,” the Marchwarden replied. “However, I do not always have time to do it.”

“I imagine I know what he’s busy doing,” she murmured to Orophin, sitting next to her. He had just taken a sip of juice from her goblet and her words caught him off guard, causing him to laugh. Alex giggled at the sight of the handsome, dignified Elf quickly wiping fruit juice from his nose.

Legolas smiled and Haldir cast a disdainful look in their direction.

“We’re going to Minas Tirith,” Legolas said.

“Why?” Haldir asked.

“That’s what I said,” chimed in Alex.

“A treaty signing. And please,” Legolas held up his hand before either of the brothers could speak. “Do not say you have nothing to wear.”

“On the contrary, we have many appropriate things to wear,” replied Orophin, his nose finally clear of the juice. “Since Charika came to Ithilien, we have not wanted for garments.”

“How are they doing? We rarely see either of them.” Alex hoped things were going well. The few times she’d seen her friend, the woman seemed as happy as ever. But she and Rumil kept pretty much to themselves, although he still saw his brothers and went on patrols with the Watch.

“I suppose they are doing well,” Haldir said. “You probably see them as much as we do.”

“Well, tell Rumil to pack. We leave in two days.” Legolas looked up at the sound of Alex’s curse.

“Two days? That’s not enough time to pack or find clothes or … Oh bloody hell!” She leapt up and raced from the room to her dressing room where the Elves could hear her muttering and slamming things about.

“Tell him to bring Charika as well. She might enjoy being with other … mortals.”

“She may at that,” Haldir said, popping another date in his mouth. “Anything else interesting going on? Are we at war with anyone I should know about?”

Legolas narrowed his eyes in what passed for what Alex called ‘an eye roll’ for Elves.

“No, my friend. To the best of my knowledge, we are currently at peace.”

“Good,” Haldir stood. “I believe I shall ask Meriel to accompany us. If you have no objections?”

“None,” Legolas said with a smile. He knew the Marchwarden and the warrior/healer had been close for a long time. Having found connubial bliss himself, he thought it a desirable state and highly recommended it to all of his friends. Although Rumil and Sharika had not bound themselves in marriage, they were, for all intents and purposes, mated. He wondered why Orophin had not found a suitable elleth with whom to settle down, though he knew his friend was quite the connoisseur of the feminine sex, much like Elladan and Elrohir, the queen of Gondor’s brothers.

Now that he thought about it, why had Glorfindel and Saelbeth not wedded? Golradir’s wife had sailed west along with Lord Elrond. Erestor, for all of his quiet and somewhat sedate manner, at least had a mistress or two---if the rumor about the woman in Minas Tirith was true. His kinsman and the Elf-Lord, however, were as free with their favors as elflings just reaching their majority. He didn’t think he’d seen either of them with the same elleth or woman more than a few times apiece. Often, they were seen with the same female at the same time.

“Come, brother. We must prepare for this all-important treaty signing. How many would you like to send in the guard?” he asked Legolas as they prepared to depart, Orophin having finished the breakfast Alex had left.

“Whatever you think best. No one knows how to pull off Elven intimidation like you.”

Haldir’s smile was one of satisfaction. “Of course not,” he replied, giving a nod of farewell and sweeping out of the room.

Legolas stood and prepared himself for the storm that was his wife packing for a trip which would involve many formal functions. She hated those trips. She much preferred to throw a few things in a pack and set out with him someplace dangerous. Although she pulled off her role as the Lady of the Elves of Ithilien and Princess of Mirkwood without difficulty, she was happiest with informal settings.

He stood at the door of her dressing room and watched as she pulled out and rejected gown after gown. She finally saw him looking at her with an amused smile, and frowned.

“I’m out of underwear,” she announced.

“And that is a problem … why?”

His words brought a wicked smile to her face.

“Well, normally it would not be a problem. However, if we are going to be around other people, it would not do for me to, say, faint and when some gallant lord picks me up to carry me to a couch, his hand slips into my---.”

“No one will be picking you up except me, and I do not think you will mind my hand slipping into anything you have.” He walked over and took the gown she was holding and tossed it aside. Drawing her into his arms, he kissed her like she liked it---deep and thorough. Her ill humor vanished and she wrapped her arms around his neck as his hands moved down to grasp her bottom and lift her against him.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, she held on with one hand to his shoulder as she pulled the folds of her gown out of the way. Legolas unlaced his leggings and within seconds, had buried himself in his wife’s eager body. He moved so her back was against the wall, holding her waist as she moved her hips in perfect rhythm with his, her strong, long legs locked around him.

She ran her fingers through his hair, completely destroying his braids as she kept her mouth glued to his, their tongues moving against each other in counterpoint to their bodies. When they reached their crisis, their moans echoed through their chamber. They remained in place for a moment, then she unwrapped her legs and he lowered her to stand on the floor. With a mischievous smile, she ‘helped’ him to clean himself and soon, he was once again calling her name as he reached his second peak in only a few moments. She tied his laces and gave him a quick kiss that tasted of their mutual pleasure, then returned to the task of trying to find something suitable to take to Minas Tirith.

Legolas picked up the cast offs and put them back in their place. She’d finally decided on a selection of gowns, and all the matching slippers, jewelry, belts, hair ornaments---all the things females found so necessary. He already knew what he would take; it was simply a matter of putting it in a trunk.

“Why do you not see if Charika has any new underwear already made for you?” The eastern woman was the only one who made the peculiar kind of garments Alex wore. “You were just saying how you rarely see her. It would do you both good to visit for a while. I will be getting the details of the journey together.”

Kissing him again, she set out through the forest along the path to Charika’s---and now Rumil’s---dwelling. The pleasant weather and temperate climate had returned, so she did not even wear a cloak. Her gown, a simple medium blue day-gown, was more than enough to keep her comfortable. She lifted the skirts and ran for a bit, enjoying the breeze and the sunshine. She could still feel the dampness between her thighs from her recent escapade with her husband and something about it made her feel terribly naughty. She even laughed aloud.

When she reached her friend’s house, she paused and knocked on the door. There was no answer and she almost turned back, when she heard a soft sound, like feminine weeping, coming from inside the building. Reaching out, she pushed the door open, finding it unlocked, while calling out to the woman.

“Charika? It’s Alex. I’m coming in.” The sounds of weeping did not stop and seemed to be coming from upstairs, where the couple slept. “I’m coming upstairs,” she called. She did not want to startle the timid woman.

When she reached the top of the steps, she looked into the large bedchamber which took up the entire top floor of the house. She saw Charika sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor, weeping as though her heart would break. Running to her side, Alex put her arms around the crying woman.

“Oh, honey, what’s wrong? Shhh. Don’t cry. What’s happened? Where’s Rumil? Do you want me to go find him?”

“N-No!” the dark haired woman said, emphatically.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Alex said, and was answered by a fresh round of tears.

Alex was at a loss. She thought perhaps Charika was suffering post-traumatic stress from her recent ordeal; but what had triggered it? She herself was not given to fits of crying and weeping without a bloody good reason, so she knew Charika had to have one as well.

“Charika! Look at me.” Her friend raised her eyes at the note of command in Alex’s voice. “Tell me what has happened to upset you. Don’t you start crying again! Talk to me.”

The woman responded to Alex’s air of authority and choked back her sobs.

“I am with child.”

“Oh.” That wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. But Elves chose when to procreate, so it couldn’t have come as a surprise to the woman. “Well, that’s great! Isn’t it?”

Charika shook her head and new tears slid down her cheeks. “I am not allowed to have children. It is forbidden for concubines to bear children without their lord’s permission.”

“Oh for fu---for goodness’ sake. How many times do I have to tell you, you aren’t a concubine and you have no master? Elves love children. I’m sure Rumil will be thrilled---.”

She stopped as Sharika shook her head violently. “It is not Rumil’s child,” she whispered, a look of abject terror in her eyes.

“Not Rumil’s? But whose …” Realization dawned. “Oh, Charika!” She gathered her friend into her arms and held her as she cried piteously.

“Are you absolutely certain?”

The woman nodded her head, her face still buried against Alex’s bosom.

“H-He does not spend himself inside of me. He said Elven males do not always spill their seed when they join with their partner.”

“That’s true,” Alex agreed. Of course he did not come inside of her; they were not bound. Anger welled up inside of her; irrationally, it was directed at Rumil. What was wrong with him? Why did he not marry the woman? Then, her calmer voice spoke: it was no easy thing for one of the Firstborn to bind with a mortal. The separation of death was a heavy burden for an Elf to bear.

“Oh, honey. It’ll be alright. We just need to think this through.” In Alex’s world, the solution would have been simple. Here, not so much. “What would you normally do in this situation?”

“Well,” Charika thought for a moment, sniffling and hiccoughing as she brought herself under control. Somehow, having shared her secret with Alex seemed to have helped. “The women would see the healer and take some medicine, and the child would pass from the body. That is if it were early enough. If it was too late, the woman would be put to death for breeding without permission, after the child’s birth, and the child sold as a slave.”

Alex was horrified. “Well, that’s not the way Elves work,” she assured her friend. “You have to talk to Rumil about this.”

“I cannot,” the woman said with a look of horror. “He will be so angry.”

“Well, you can’t very well hide it.”

“I must leave; go away. I cannot bring this shame upon my lord.”

Alex sighed. “He isn’t your lord---he’s your partner, your mate, your lover---whatever you want to call him; but he is not your master or your lord or above you in any way.” She brushed the dark curls back from her friend’s face. “Talk to him. He will help you through this. If you want to keep the baby, he will be supportive. If you wish to give it to someone to raise as their own, an adoption, then he’ll stand by you in that too. Rumil loves you, and will do whatever he can to help you.”

Charika did not look convinced, but at least she was no longer crying hysterically. Alex decided to change the subject.

“Did Haldir or Orophin tell you about the trip to Minas Tirith?” At Charika’s shake of her head, Alex went on. “Well, we leave in two days, and you’re coming with us. Rumil will probably tell you when he gets home. We have to pick out some things for you to wear---there are all sorts of formal, dumb things we’ll be expected to attend---and I need some underwear. You don’t happen to have any made up for me, do you?” she asked, hopefully.

The other woman smiled and got up, calling for Alex to come downstairs with her. She found the appropriate box and produced a dozen new pair of the flimsy undergarments Alex preferred. They spent the rest of the afternoon helping Charika pick out what to take on the trip, this being her first formal visit to the capital. Usually, she went for a quick visit to fit the Queen when Arwen desired a new gown, then returned immediately, usually with Rumil or Alex for company.

When Alex returned home, Legolas and their usual assortment of guests were sitting around the downstairs receiving room, discussing the new treaty with Harad. Alex would have called it gossiping, but had been informed, in the most haughty of tones, by none other than Haldir himself, that Elves, particularly Elven males, do not, under any circumstances, gossip. They discuss, possibly speculate; but never, ever gossip.

Rumil was just leaving as she walked in the door and he gave her a pleasant smile and a short bow of greeting.

“I have already told Charika about the trip and helped her pick out her clothes,” she told him. She wanted so badly to tell him about Charika’s fears, but knew it was between the two of them. The woman had not, however, sworn her to secrecy, so she would discuss it with Legolas as soon as they were alone.

Legolas smiled as she entered the room, and she waved to the others to remain seated, calling a general greeting and crossing to where her husband had settled back into his favorite chair. He took her hand and pulled her into his lap, giving her a sound kiss before she nestled into his arms.

“So, who are we ripping to shreds tonight?” she asked sweetly.

“The Haradrim ambassador,” said Erestor with a smile. “It seems he acquired his position because of his rank, not his abilities.”

She listened as they continued their speculation on how long it would be before Aragorn had the man thrown out of Gondor, but her mind was turning over possible solutions for Charika’s little problem. At some point, Dita and Dexter both jumped onto the chair and so she sat with one dog in her lap, the other squeezed in next to Legolas, who had no choice but to make room for the little spaniel.

Dinner was an informal affair and again, she listened to the talk with only half an ear, though she managed to make the appropriate responses to the occasional remarks directed to her. After dinner, Saelbeth and Erestor played chess while Orophin and Glorfindel played with the dogs. Haldir and Legolas discussed the logistics of moving part of the household to Minas Tirith for a few days with Balglin as Alex lounged on the floor, a pillow under her head, watching those around her.

If she were in Charika’s position, what would she do? If Goroth’s rape had produced a child, how would she have told Legolas? No matter how she approached the problem, acceptance and support by her husband was always the outcome. But then, they had that mystical connection that came from Elven binding. Rumil and Charika did not. Though she could not say for sure, she believed he would be supportive of his lover. Still, she did not know him as intimately as did Charika.

That night, after bidding their guests goodnight, and after once again joining their bodies, Legolas noticed his wife did not drift off to sleep. He looked down to where her head lay against his chest and saw her eyes were still open. Knowing she was not in Elvish sleep, he asked her what was troubling her.

“Do you promise not to tell anyone?”

“Of course, my love.”

“Charika’s pregnant.”

“So, she and Rumil have---.”

“No. It’s Lastharos’ child.”

Legolas was silent. Again, he felt a pang of guilt. He should have been able to prevent this thing from happening. If only he had been able to protect Charika from that monster’s abuse …

He said as much to his wife, who shook her head.

“Don’t try to take this on yourself, Legolas. Unless you got her pregnant, it’s not your fault.”

He was shocked. “I would never share my seed with another---I would never willingly share my body with another, my love.”

Alex laughed. “I know that. I was just making a point. Don’t blame yourself for that beast’s actions.”

Legolas thought on her words and nodded. “Of course, you are correct. Has she told Rumil?”

“I don’t know. I told her she had to tell him about it.” She proceeded to recount the details of her conversation with the woman. Like her, Legolas was appalled at how the Haradrim treated the women who became pregnant ‘without permission’, and how the products of those undesired pregnancies were disposed of.

“What do you think Rumil will do? I know Elves value children, but this is a mortal child, who is a product of rape. I don’t know how he’ll take it.”

Legolas shook his head. “I cannot say how he will feel, but Rumil will stand by Charika, should she decide to keep the child or give it into the care of someone who desires children. It will be difficult for him, but he will not let her suffer alone. Rumil is an honorable Elf.”

“Yes, but it’s one thing to do something because it’s the right thing to do; quite another to do it because you believe in it.”

He could not argue with her.

“What would you have done, if it had been me? What if I had become pregnant from my rape?”

Legolas shuddered to think of such a prospect. He wanted to tell her he would have loved the child and raised it as his own. But he knew his wife wanted honesty from him.

“I would, of course, have abided by your wishes. And I would have supported you. But I do not believe I could have loved the child. I would, of course, have brought it up as my own, but it would have served as a painful reminder of what happened to you. It would have been unfair, I know.”

“So, what do you think would be the best solution? Speaking as someone whose woman has been taken against her will, what would be best for Charika, Rumil and the child?”

“I do not know, my love. I do not envy our friends their burden.” He wrapped his arms around her tighter and held her close, and thanked the Valar such a decision had not been given to him.