Faded Light

(For additional notes and disclaimers, please see top of Chapter 1.)


- - This one's rather dark...as always, I would love feedback.- -


Chapter 19
The Cruel Ways of Men


After several long months, the war had at last began to turn with a series of victories and the support of Javad’s allies from neighboring Haradrim tribes as well as Khand, giving King Javad’s camp at last cause to celebrate.

Somehow, Arya had found the means to purchase two or three new female slaves and they provided most of the entertainment, dancing to the music of Haradrim instruments the names of which Dafi had never bothered to learn. Though in the less than ideal conditions of a war camp the feasting and revelry had to be toned down far more than was the custom.

The youth opted to stay away from the feast and out of sight of his former master; though his own restless thoughts and the music that drifted into the tent he had been sharing with the prince kept him awake for sometime.

It was long while before he had finally managed to nod off to his uneasy dreams; only to be awakened sometime later by someone's noisy entrance into the tent.

He realized immediately that it was not Prince Emau and stood instantly, taking several steps back, as a large Man who he recognized as one of the Variag warriors stood in the dim light.
“I thought his Highness would be here,” said the Man looking around and sounding irritated. "Lord ‘adayat’s been looking for ‘im."

Dafi indicated that the prince was indeed not in, expecting that the soldier would leave, but he instead turned to look fully at the Elf.

“I know you,” he said, his demeanor immediately changing, as he looked the slave over, “you used to be Arya’s elf whore...”

Suddenly Dafi was all-too aware of the thinness of the under tunic he wore, having taken off the outer one before going to bed. He took a step to retrieve it and was instantly stopped by the Man coming to stand directly between he and his clothes.

“Come now...there’s no need to be unfriendly.” He reached up to touch the Elf’s face, causing Dafi to jump, placing a hand protectively over his swollen abdomen.

As a slave, he knew he would have had no choice but to give this man what he clearly wanted, were he commanded to...but to accept it of his own accord would have been to truly make himself into a whore, which every fiber that remained of who he had once been resisted even now...

The human smiled wolfishly, coming closer. "A slave should have better manners...”

He could smell the wine on the Man’s breath now though he managed to hide his state well.

In a sudden flash of panic, he tried to run past the Man to the entrance only to be pulled back by an iron grip and thrown hard against a table. He gasped as his lower back hit the edge of the table, and the same hard hand held him down by the throat until blackness threatened to close in; while the other hand pulled aside the flimsy tunic and spread his legs. Without the most minimal preparation he felt his body split in two...a scream dying automatically in his throat...

But suddenly he was no longer in Emau’s tent...he was in his rooms in Mirkwood, struggling in the darkness, as the Man...

Valar...Saes...I don’t wish to remember that. It is too cruel...

...but those dark memories he had consciously repressed to keep from fading back then, flooded back now to mix themselves up with the present, jumbling together until he could no longer tell them apart and he truly feared he would lose his mind.

Mortal Men...he had always believed, they were worse than the Orcs. At least the Orcs kill you when they are done...

Hands...that is what he most clearly remembered from that first time...the night his childhood ended and his life began to crumble…hands touching him as they should not, the unfamiliar feeling of bare flesh and hot breath on his body...a hard hand clamped over his mouth to stifle a scream that would have had the palace guards bursting through the door...no...no...saes, stop...I don’t want this...I don’t want this...stop...

...and then, a pain so intense it seemed to radiate through his entire body, and left him reeling with an unfamiliar shock he had been too innocent to understand...

Valar, make it stop...saes...this can’t be happening...

...this isn’t real…this isn’t real...he had repeated the words to himself like a chant through the unspeakable, endless minutes, or had it been hours? as the degrading act continued...this isn’t happening...

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It had been Ruthlagor who found him the next morning and who the prince compelled to keep his secret.

...“Legolas we need to speak with your Adar...”

“Saes,” the prince had pleaded, “Ada can’t know...ever.”

“Penneth, I cannot keep from him something like this...if you begin fading…”

"I won’t...I swear, I won't. Let us pretend it did not happen...in a few days the bruises will heal, and all will be well...

"I will not allow a filthy Man to break me,” he finished vehemently, anguished blue eyes taking on a fierce, hard look.

“And if ever you speak a word of this to anyone, Uncle, I swear to you, I will deny it. I will make sure Adar thinks you a mad elf for inventing anything so vile..."

Furiously, he struggled against his attacker, as he found himself back in the tent in Harad, biting hard in sheer desperation as lips wandered over his own and heard more than felt the crack of his head against the table; the hand at his throat immediately replaced with the cold blade of a knife as the man finished with a groan and several forceful thrusts, sinking his teeth into a delicate elven ear before roughly pulling out and letting him fall to the floor.

But it was the sudden pain in his belly that finally made him scream...

Not yet...it's too soon...Saes, not yet...


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Saelbeth had traveled the road from Mirkwood to Rivendell countless times, and was becoming convinced Hanan had somehow led them down the wrong path though he could not imagine how. He had thought the other elf to be at least as familiar with the way as he. He would not have taken him along as part of his escort otherwise.

But a dark feeling had been creeping into his heart, over the last few miles. He could not shake it and was seriously beginning to regret not having taken a larger number of guards as the king and Leralonde had urged.

“I do not mean to question your judgment, Hanan,” he said. “But I am not certain this is the right trail.”

“We’ll be out of this thicket soon, Hir Nin,” the warrior assured him. “And there is a clearing up ahead where we can make camp for the night.”

“I’m not sure that I’d like to camp anywhere near here,” said the advisor, looking around at the dark wood and the lengthening shadows of approaching dusk. “Let us just get out of this place and get as far away as we can...quickly.”

“As you wish, Hir Nin.”

He laid a hand on the still not apparent bulge on his abdomen and tried to calm himself for his child’s sake.

It’s all right, Meld Pen, he soothed, as Hanan rode off to scout ahead. We’ll be in Rivendell soon, and your father has promised to come visit us in a few months. And we’ll both have a good laugh.

Hush now, little one.

It was his last thought before the Orcs attacked...


TBC...


Adar, Ada / Father, Dad, Daddy

Saes / Please

Penneth / Young One

Hir Nin / My lord

Meld Pen / Dear One

Variag / Name for the warriors of Khand


(Okay: I don't know if that first scene came out as clearly as I wanted...let me know...

Sorry, for the awful double cliffhanger, but I will try to have the next one by Monday.)