Taelin's Story

Author’s Notes: It was brought to my attention in the last chapter that I made a few mistakes. Firstly, I would like to apologize for said mistakes. This fic has been so long in the writing, that I should really have gone back and re-read things before continuing. Secondly, this fic was started to be the backstory for a character in an rp. For that reason, some of the original information changed. To clarify, however: Taelin has green eyes, not blue. And Laurilyn did, in fact have a sister. I promise that I will make the appropriate corrections as soon as I have the chance, and thank you to Zani for pointing them out to me!

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The evening wore on as they returned to the town. As darkness fell, Wess directed the terrified elf and his horse through the town and to a small cottage near the heart of it. It was time for the evening meal, as Taelin and Wess reached the small dwelling.

Taelin’s frightened green eyes darted around, eyeing every doorway, every shadow. Deep down, the poor elf was expecting the Master and his men to jump out and capture him once more. A fine shiver trailed down the elf’s back at this thought, and he felt his breath quicken as panic consumed him.

Wess looked on in concern as Taelin fought his inner battle. The man watched as tremors shook the lithe elven frame. He noted that these tremors seemed worse even than those that Taelin suffered while surrounded by bloodthirsty orcs. What could have befallen the poor elf to make him so afraid?

Slowly Wess slid down from the saddle, grunting in pain as his bad leg hit the ground. At the sound of the grunt, Taelin nearly jumped from his skin. His body was painfully tense, and he held to the horses bridle as though his life would end should he let go.

Wess approached the shivering elf, slowly. Taelin seemed to be at full alert. Gently, Wess laid his hand upon Taelin’s shoulder. Taelin’s trembles increased at the touch, and Wess removed his hand. He looked up into the tall elf’s face, studying the terrified expression there.

“Are you alright, boy?” Wess asked quietly, his voice full of concern.

Taelin simply swallowed hard, opening his mouth to speak, but no voice came out. He nodded shakily, and forced his hand to let go of the horse’s bridle. His eyes continued to fearfully scan the area, and Wess decided that it might be a good idea to get Taelin inside at last.

“Come, my boy. Ye los ths though ye could use a good meal, and a good bed t’sleep in.” Wess suggested quietly, only receiving another nod from the elf.

Once inside the little cottage, Wess began by starting a small fire. Soon the interior was bathed in an invitingly warm glow. In the soft, flickering light, Taelin chanced a look around at the cottage’s contents. There was a small table, roughly made, and four matching chairs, sitting near the door. By the fireplace sat two chairs, and a small sofa, for relaxing. Though, only two doors led from the main room, save the door they entered trough.

“Was that the orcs?” Wess suddenly asked. Taelin blinked at the old man, not sure what he had meant. Wess pointed to the slash in Taelin’s tunic, which was edged in fresh blood. The elf’s gaze fell to the cut and he swallowed hard and nodded.

“Well, best to get that cleaned, then. Come. Take off your tunic.” With that, Wess turned his back to gather some water and old rags.

Pulling some fresh herbs from the pouch on his belt, Wess turned back again. He was a little surprised to see the elf starting into the fire with tears of fear rolling down his pale cheeks. Wess’ heart went out to the elf for the obvious pain he had suffered.

Thinking quickly, Wess set the bowl of water and other supplies down on the floor by one of the padded chairs near the fire. Slowly, Wess lowered himself to the floor, kneeling and sitting back on his heels.

‘Come, lad, I ain’t gonna hurt you. I only want to see to that wound, that’s all. You have my word.” Wess reassured softly, giving Taelin a little smile.

Somehow Taelin as able to force his body to move. He timidly sat in the chair by Wess. With shaking hands, he undid the aces of his tunic, sliding the garment from his injured shoulder. Wess heard himself gasp softly at the sight before him. Long silver scars covered Taelin’s body, wrapping around shoulders and ribs, marring his milky white skin.

Wess inched closer to the scared elf, noting the tear streaks upon the beautiful face. Whoever had cased such pain, was careful not to touch the fine elven features. He dipped the rag into the herbed water, beginning to clean the orc inflicted wound. Silently, Wess vowed that if he ever found out had so injured the young elf, he would personally see them punished for it.

“You’re lucky, Master Taelin. It doesn’t seem to have been a poisoned blade.” Wess stated quietly. “You never know with those foul beasts.”

The rest of the night the two spent talking, and getting to know each other better. Wess told of his previous life, that he had had a wife and children, who were all killed in the attack that wounded him and nearly cost him his life. Taelin, in turn, told Wess a little of his life before his imprisonment, though he could not bring himself to speak of those years with the man.

Throughout the next few months, Taelin stayed with Wess. The old man taught him how to fight, how to shoot a bow more accurately, and how to wield a sword. In turn, Taelin took on hunting for their food, and generally caring for Wess, when his old wounds became too painful.

As the months passed, Taelin began to feel more comfortable in the village. No longer did he freeze when someone approached him. Yet, still in the back of his mind, he feared the mortals, and just what they might do. Deep down, he still expected them to do him harm, someday.

Though, on the whole, life was good. There was a roof over his head, and he had a place to sleep. He had the freedom to come and go as he wanted, and Wess was a good cook. Slowly, Taelin grew comfortable in his new life, and he felt safe within the walls of the little cottage.

~*~

One such day, Taelin returned to the cottage after a day spent hunting in the woods. As he approached the small dwelling, he could hear raised voices from inside. Instantly, Taelin could feel himself go into alert mode as he withdrew the hunting knife from inside his boot.

Just as he reached the door, it opened to reveal the amused face of a strange man. Taelin looked down upon the small mortal, feeling himself begin to tremble at the familiar look of desire in the man’s eyes. The elf began to back away in fear, whe fhe felt his back connect with something large and solid. Taelin felt large hands grab his upper arms, holding him still and spinning him around to face a rather large man.

“Well, well! Aren’t you a lot of lady to be out on your own?” The man drawled in amusement.

“L-Let me go…” Taelin whispered shakily.

His only answer was a rough hand sliding through his long blond hair. The man took a step closer to Taelin, pressing his hips against Taelin’s thigh. The rough, calloused hand slid through Taelin’s hair once more, and traced the edge of his ear. Taelin shuddered involuntarily from the caress to his sensitive elven ear. The man’s eyes narrowed for a moment before a smug grin spread on his face.

“Not a woman…” He smirked at Taelin before raising his voice to his comrades inside. “Oi! We got an elf out here!”

“Do you?” Came the amused response from inside. “Bring it in! Mayhap we can have a little more fun…”

“Don’t you tough him!” Wess cried in a slurred voice, before the harsh sound of skin connecting with skin forcefully could be heard.

The small man in front of Taelin smirked up at him, the look of desire deepening in his eyes. The man who held Taelin forced him inside, while the smaller one disarmed him as they passed. Taelin’s head spun with plans for escape. He couldn’t allow himself to be taken for whatever “fun” these men intended for him.

Once inside, most thoughts of escape left him. Inside the cottage sat six more men, in various positions of relaxation around the room. In the middle of the room sat a chair in which Wess sat slumped over upon. There was blood on his shirt, and when at last he raised his head, Taelin felt his breath catch at the deep bruises the old man sported upon his face.

Taelin was pushed over to one side of the room. The man holding him pressed him against the wall, wickedly breathing in the scent of the terrified elf. Flashes of his past burst before his eyes, forcing Taelin’s breath to come in sharp, fearful gasps. Taelin flinched when the large man pressed his lips savagely against his own.

Beginning to panic, Taelin remained frozen. He knew he couldn’t fight all the men in the room, even with Wess’ training. The events seemed far too familiar, and Taelin told himself that he knew what would happen. He pressed tighter to the wall, in effort to get away from the man, only serving to get himself pinned.

“Bind his hands and feet!” A commanding voice called, and some of the men jumped up to carry out the order.

Taelin was led to the sofa, and forced to lie down upon it. His wrists and ankles were bound together, and he was gagged. Fearful tears escaped his eyes and rolled gently down his cheeks, soaking the rag used to silence him. He lay, shivering upon the soft fabric, green eyes searching over the faces above him. From the looks upon their faces, he could tell what came next, and began mentally preparing himself.

Without warning, however, Taelin was dragged forcefully from the couch. His bound limbs keeping him from breaking his fall. The man then forced Taelin to bend over the edge of the couch, face forwards.

He could feel the chill of steel against his skin, as the man sliced through the waistband of his leggings and then ripped the fabric, baring the lower half of his body. Pained tears escaped his eyes, as rough hands grasped his hips savagely. He could hear the clink of a buckle being undone, and the rustle of fabric being pushed down. Panting hard, Taelin turned his head, his fearful green eyes connecting with the sad gray gaze of Wess.

Taelin cried out around the gag as his body was entered, the familiar pain bursting throughout him. He bit down on the fabric, forcing his eyes to remain open and fixed on the apologetic gray gaze. He refused to let these men win over him. He would not lose himself again. He would stay strong. It would be over soon, and he would be free again. At least that is what he kept telling himself.

After what felt like an eternity, the man spent himself within Taelin, pulling out and sagging back panting. Taelin chanced to close his eyes, thinking his torment was done, only to be proven wrong. Again, behind him, the sound of a belt being undone, and pants hitting the floor could be heard.

Taelin’s heart sank. He squeezed his eyes shut, and attempted imagining himself far from that cottage. Running free through a meadow on horseback, the warm spring breeze running through his hair, the sunlight warm upon his skin. Anything to keep the harsh reality of the cold cottage, the dozen eyes upon him, and the violation that he was suffering once more at the hands of men.

The night dragged on. Taelin remained bent over the couch, his tormenters each taking a turn upon him. As morning dawned, the group of men realized they should leave, lest someone find them at their ‘fun’. As the first light broke through tindoindows, the men hastily left the cottage, leaving Taelin and Wess alone.

Taelin slid off the couch, finally. With a soft sob, he curled into a ball, covering his face with his bound hands as best he could. His entire body ached, and he wished only to sleep at last. He curled tighter around himself, pulling his knees to his chest in his grief. Would he never be free of such torment?

As the sun rose, Taelin closed his eyes once more. He knew that Wess needed assistance, and so he forced himself to sit up. With trembling fingers, he untied his ankles, before getting shakily to his feet. Taelin shuffled, painfully, across the room, finding a knife upon the table to slice through the bonds around his wrists.

Once freed of his bonds, Taelin removed the gag from his mouth and moved back to Wess’ chair. He quickly untied Wess, and helped him from the stiff wooden chair.

“Taelin? Are you alright, lad?” Wess asked hoarsely.

Taelin only nodded absently before moving to the washbasin and pouring water into it. His mind was focused only on tending to his friend, which in turn allowed him to forget his own troubles. He gathered rags, and the herbs Wess kept for such injuries before retng tng to the man’s side. Green eyes refused to notice the pool of blood and seamen upon the floor as he tended the old man’s wounds.

Wess hissed softly as Taelin cleaned the deep gash upon his brow. He looked at the elf with concern. Never had he seen Taelin seems quite so distant. There was a blank look in the intelligent green eyes, almost as though the elf were not truly within his body. Wess noted the slight tremble to the elf’s hands, and the shiver that ran through him when the breeze brushed his bare skin.

The old man hated that his own mistakes had brought those men to his cottage, and hated himself even more for the fact that they had so abused his elven companion. He continued to study Taelin, thinking over the events of the past few hours before his eyes widened in realization.

Taelin hadn’t reacted the way he would have expected to such torment. He hadn’t screamed, nor pleaded for mercy. He had simply remained still until the men were finished with him. Wess figured that he finally knew what made Taelin so nervous of the village folk.

“Taelin…” Wess whispered, reaching out a hand to softly touch the elf’s face. Taelin, however, flinched away from the contact, his whole frame beginning to tremble once more. Wess withdrew his hand. The last thing on Arda that he wished was to cause Taelin to fear him, as well.

“Taelin, my boy, relax. I’m not going to harm you, you know that, right?” Wess asked, softly, receiving a quick nod from the elf. “I’m glad. Now, let’s get you cleaned up, too.”

Having said that, Wess then rose from the couch, leaving the room slowly. He knew that Taelin would be wary around him, and all he could do was give the elf the space he needed. With a sigh, Wess began filling the bath, knowing that Taelin’s body would relish the feel of the warm water after its abuse.

Glancing back at the trembling elf in the main room, Wess sighed. He was growing to care for the elf greatly. He was hard pressed to imagine his life without Taelin in it, any longer. Gray eyes filled with tears at last, and Wess closed the door again. With a shuddering sigh, he rested his back against the wood, breathing deeply the moist steam from the running bath. Soft tears trailed down his face as another realization came to him.

“I love you, my elf. Though after tonight, I will very likely lose you.”