Greenleaf

Title: Greenleaf - Chapter II: Lothlorien
Author: Genesis Grey (helfireclub@hotmail.com)
Website: http://www.sexystickman.com/ren/
Pairings: Thranduil/Legolas; Celeborn/Legolas; Haldir/Legolas (list to be added to in future chapters)
Disclaimer: Own nothing, but this string.
Summary: See Legolas. See Legolas' father be a bastard. See Legolas being an emissary to other elven realms. See Legolas get the crap beat out of him and be sexually abused. See author run for cover as Leggy fans kick her ass.
Warnings: Incest. Rape. Non-Con. Slash.
Beta: Nethene
Author's Notes: Feel free to drop me a note and tell me you're reading. :)


-Chapter II: Lothlorien-



I cannot help but be awed by the beauty of the Golden Wood. The tales I have heard do not do the magnificence of this place justice. My enjoyment is somewhat soured by the marchwarden that escorts me to Caras Galadhon. He looks at me with eyes that say he will have me before I leave this place; and for some strange reason, though I am a prince and he mer mere marchwarden, I know that he will.

It is not long before we reach the city and I am shown to the high talan where the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel see their rare guests. I bow and flatter as I have been taught to do, despite the whore my father has made of me I am still a Prince of Greenwood and my departed mother raised me well. They speak to me, or rather Celeborn does as his Lady watches me with eyes that make me quiver. It is a controlled effort not to stutter as the starlit blue orbs bore into me. She reminds me very much of my soft-spoken mother with her own wise eyes.

After a time of exchanging obligatory adulation I ask if they will aid my kingdom in the coming darkness. At last the Lady speaks and assures me that Lorien will always come to the assistance of other elven realms during times of need. I tender that Greenwood and Lothlorien have never gotten along smoothly.

Celeborn respond that they would never leave others of their kind without suppothouthough they disagree with much of what my father does. The comment is pointed and for a moment I wonder if they know my shame, why my spirit is so weak in this strong body. But that is ridiculous. How could they?

The Lord and Lady turn to each other and nod at some unspoken communication before I am dismissed from their presence. The marchwarden that has leered at me since I first entered this land escorts me to a talan where I may rest and bathe. I thank him as a courtesy and he smirks, not even bothering to hide his lusty gaze as he looks over my body. When he finally reaches my face I meet him with a glare and ask that he leave. He bows properly, although from him it is a mocking gesture, before he departs.

I sigh as I set my gear, my beloved bow and arrows, upon the bed and undress for a well-deserved bath. The water has already been drawn for me and I am immensely thankful to whoever had such foresight as I slide into the tub, letting the comfort of the warm water envelop me.

For a few blessed moments I am at peace, until my hand glances over the mark upon my chest, the greenleaf. The scar my father carved into my flesh as a reminder of the name he gave me, a symbol of his realm, of his ownership. As if I could ever forget who my master was, who it was that had broken and tamed me. All the tension the slightly scented water had coaxed from my muscles instantly returns and I know I will take no more enjoyment from this bath.

I take time to wash my hair and scrub at the body that has never felt clean since the day my father first forced himself upon me in the gardens. When my skin starts to become raw from the scrubbing I get out of the bath, thinking I will lie upon the bed naked and rest while I dry.

Then I notice the presence of another. It startles me. My senses are acute and trained better than most warriors, but I heard no approach. Celeborn lounges on my bed as if he has been waiting a long time. My bow and the quiver of arrows have been set carefully aside on the table. He looks up at me with curious eyes as if waiting to see what I wdo. do.

My stomach churns.

I had hoped my visit to Lothlorien would end without having to perform any favors to guarantee Mirkwood’s protection. Still, I am glad it is Celeborn that has come for their boon and not the Lady Galadriel. Though I have endured much at my father’s hands, I do not believe I could live with myself after being violated by one that reminds me of my sweet mother.

Swallowing what little pride had begun to blossom during the foray from my father’s clutches I climb onto the bed like a cat, sliding next to the elven lord and nuzzling his hip with my nose as my arm falls across his lap. I do not know his preferences, if he is like my father and will demand my pain for his pleasure or not. So I wait to see what he will demand of me.

He stares at me a moment with his knowing eyes before telling me to sit on his lap. I find the request strange, but I do so, sitting more between his legs aeanieaning back on his robe covered chest. He plays with my hair, stroking it and wringing water from it before he plaits it. I remain rigid the entire time, even as he kisses the juncture where my shoulder and neck meet. His hands move down to caress my chest as he kisses my neck, light fingers teasing and pinching my nipples in a delightful way.

Unused to the strange feelings awakening in the pit of my stomach I shiver and shift against him. He smiles against my skin before licking the curve of my ear, and I cannot help but yelp at the feeling. His hands move down over my hips and caress my thighs, parting them gingerly to show my growing erection. It occurs to me that I have only once felt myself aroused by gentle touches.

The soft hands move along the insides of my thighs and I tremble. I wonder if he will abuse my engorged member or tie sting about its base, as my father has done to amuse himself many a time. But instead one long finger trails down my length, then up again. I gasp at the sensation, rollinghipships toward his hand.

He presses another kiss to the back of my neck as one hand moves up, running over my chest and stomach, while the other wraps around my shaft. I remember my father’s harsh treatment that last time he bedded me and I think the pain has finally come, but to my surprise it does not. The hand gently moves over my shaft, stroking it as I moan, unable to believe the bliss I am experiencing.

His other hand, that was moving over my chest, reaches down and grasps the fleshy sacks below my erection and begins massaging them. I gasp. The feeling is strange, but I do not dislike it. My hips are moving of their own accord now, thrusting at the elven lord’s hand. He meets my every move and it is not long before I cry out in ecstasy, the blinding white of release as I arch and then collapse back against Celeborn’s chest.

He lets out a low chuckle in my ear as I realize my cum is splattered over his hand and robes, as well as myself and the bed. I pant as I wonder what price he will ask for giving me such pleasure. His cum covered hand moves and I mange to turn my head enough to see him lick the sticky substance off. Something my father would never do, the cleaning is always my duty.

Celeborn gives me a gentle smile as he strokes my arms kindly before gently laying me onto the bed and pressing a kiss to my forehead. He says he will send for someone to draw me another bath as his hand reaches out and traces the greenleaf carved upon my body.

He frowns momentarily before meeting my eyes. I try to looks away, but his hand reaches up and stops me, forcing me to look into his deep eyes. He tells me that I must make the greenleaf my own, not a mof mof my father, for it is not his to claim and neither am I. He tells me that I must understand for all the cruelty and injustice, there is also kindness and pleasure in the world.

With that he leaves me.

I am confused to say the least. My body shakes in the afterglow of what Lord Celeborn has given me. A glimpse of the pleasure that elves share with one another, free and willingly. I know it was intended as a gift, but like all things it is a double-edged sword; a curse as well as a gift. Now I know what my father has denied me over the centuries, and it hurts more than any physical pain he could have inflicted. My grief redoubles its efforts to bring about my demise and I choke as my spirit tries to flee.

I hold on, but barely.

The key to my survival has always been the thought that one must feel pain to give another pleasure. Celeborn, through his act of kindness, has just invalidated that belief. I must take back the lie or I will die for certain.

I roll from the bed aalk alk over to the bath, quickly cleaning the stickiness from my body before donning my breeches and shirt, letting it hang open as I bolt from the talan and down the stairs. At first I do not even know what I am looking for until I reach the ground and spy the arrogant marchwarden talkto eto elves that must be his kin.

He sees me in my breeches and open shirt and excuses himself from his fellows to approach me, asking if there is something I need. Boots perhaps. I watch as the other two elves walk away and listen intently to make sure no others are around before I speak. I tell him I know he wants my body and that he may take me, right here and now, if he wishes.

He raises an eyebrow, and to his credit the confusion only sparks in his eyes, never his face. He asks if I am well, if I know what I requesting of him. I assure him I do as he sets aside his gear and removes his cloak, all the time watching my desperate face and waiting for me to change my mind. But I do not.

He asks a last time if I am certain and I nod before he kisses me, pushing me back hard against the trunk of a mighty tree. My back scrapes painfully against the uneven bark as his tongue delves into my mouth, violating me, claiming me as his own. His hands are all over my body, stripping me of my hastily thrown on attire while I fumble with his. My shirt is simple matter of getting it off my arms, but my breeches are not so easy. He is not gentle as he tears at the clasps, slamming me hard against the tree in his groping, and for that I am thankful.

Pain for pleasure, this is how it is meant to be.

Finally the clasps give and my breeches fall to the ground. I have managed off his tunic, but I will leave his breeches to his own design. He presses me to the tree still, kissing and biting my lip as his body crushes my nude form against the rough trunk. I grind against him he mhe moans with want as he grinds back, scratching my body against the length of the tree, bruising it.

I groan as he tosses me to the grass, roots and rock digging into the quickly forming bruises on my back as he presses my lithe form against the ground with his own. He kisses me forcefully as his hands roam my body, momentarily pausing as they brush the greenleaf, but I press against him with my body and he forgets any question that had entered his mind.

I squirm and struggle onto my stomach, my hard member pressing into the ground and making me want to cry out in pain. It hurts so very much, but that is how it is supposed to be. I tell him to take me and make sexual overtures, displaying my prone body in a way that would arouse any elf. My father has trained me well for my whorish duties.

Even as I hear his breeches being removed and tossed aside I know the marchwarden hesitates, asking if he should find some lubricant to ease the entry. I moan and writhe on the ground until all thoughts of kindness have left him and his lust takes control.

He grabs my hips with bruising force and thrusts into me. I want to scream, but I bite my tongue instead. He is larger than my father and I can feel some tearing as he moves in and out of my body. It hurts and I wonder if I will be able to walk tomorrow. Tears sting my eyes as he continues to ride me, moaning as he rocks, enjoying the comforts of my body.

I take no pleasure in this, but it is all I know.


TBC...