In The Name of Faith

Title: In the Name of Faith (3/?)

Pairings: Glorfindel/Legolas, Glorfindel/?, Legolas/?


Summary: Imladris is Mirkwood’s greatest enemy. What happened when Glorfindel had been taken captive and met the abused prince Legolas?


Disclaimer: All the well known elves belong to mighty lord Tolkien. I was just borrowing them.


Warning: non-con sex, rape, graphic violence/torture, incest (anything I could think of)


Author’s note: very very dark fic. PLEASE HEED THE WARNING! If you do not like it, do leave.


Thanks for all the wonderful reviews. I am so happy, and yes, I do own Legolas’ brothers.

Sorry for the shortness of this chapter and thank u again elfisgal for beta reading.


* * *


Chapter Three


Erestor lifted his head as two guards on horses entered the front yard of Elrond’s manor. One of them was holding an unconscious form in his arms, Erestor gasped when he saw who it was. He broke into a run, hastily approaching them.


"Elladan!"


The advisor took the body from the guard and examined him quickly. Elladan was bleeding heavily from his shoulder and he looked terribly exhausted. His body burned with fever and his lips were blue, the signs of poisoning. Erestor also took notice of his broken leg.


"We spotted him outside our border, my lord," one of the guards said, "He was riding Asfaloth and Lord Glorfindel was not in sight."


Erestor nodded. Questions could be delayed, it was more important to save Elladan’s life. He carried the young elf inside and headed quickly to the House of Healing. Then he felt the young one starting to move.


"Glorfindel," the twin barely whispered, his head lolled on Erestor’s chest, "The Sindar attacked him in Mirkwood forest. He was trying to protect me."


Erestor felt a tight knot in his stomach at hearing these words. This was not good. Not good at all.

But he hid his distress and managed to smile at the weak elf in his arms.


"’Tis alright, pen-neth," he said soothingly, "Your Ada will search for him. Now all we need to do is tend to your wounds."


Sending ick ick prayer to the Valar that Glorfindel will survive, Erestor brought the beaten body to the healing house and told a servant to fetch Elrond.


* * *


Glorfindel stirred, and tried to find a more comfortable position on the cot he was lying on. It was difficult task as the mattress was hard and cold. He laid his head back carefully on the thin pillow and sighed.


He didn't know how long it was since his capture. It could have been a week or just a few days. All he knew was that his whole body hurt terribly from head to toe. Bruises were everywhere, including on his arms and legs. His back was plastered with dried blood and felt extremely sore from the whipping. He continuously saw stars in his eyes as a result of a dizzy head and two of his fingers were broken.


The Sindar were true to their words about making him speak. They did nothing to him except whipping and beating him since the first day. And there was no sign that it was going to stop. They kept asking him everything and anything about Rivendell, mostly about its defense system, and he kept his mouth tightly shut all the time, safe only for curses and muffled screams. Lately they stopped asking him questions, just merely tortured him, determined to draw any word from his mouth, as Glorfindel too was determined not to give them any.


At least Elladan is safe. That thought slightly lightened his darkened mood. The twin would likely to have reached Imladris’ borders by now, and should be home safely, surrounded by Elrond and his family. That if he didn’t run into more orcs. But Asfaloth is a strong horse, the strongest of all mares. He could escape even the Nazgul, and orcs would mean nothing to him.


As for his own faith, Glorfindel was not very sure.


He wondered what Elrond would do when he learns of his capture. Most likely the Rivendell lord would come here with the whole army of Rivendell to rescue him, much to Glorfindel’s dismay. Glorfindel was not fond of battles, having experienced it a lot, and hoped that his release will go by some sort of peace agreement. Something like that was unlikely to take place, considering Thranduil and his sons’ stubbornness and resilience.


The king never bothered about him. Glorfindel never saw him again since that first day of his capture. He seemed to have put this matter to be solved by his sons.


Alderios would spend some time from his daily chores to check on him, merely watching him endg hig his torture. The crown prince would ask some questions himself, but would soon leave as he would never get any answers. It was the second born of Thranduil that got on Glorfindel’s nerve.


Felenduir was a very cruel elf, and Glorfindel hated him fiercely. The younger elf would torture him for hours; he would take the whip in his own hand and would do the tormenting himself. It was he who broke Glorfindel’s fingers when the Imaldris’ lord could not stand him anymore and spat on his face. Felenduir seemed to draw some kind of satisfaction from every torment done by his own hands. How was it that Thranduil had managed to raise a son to be so brutal, Glorfindel did not wish to know, but he knew that one he would be free, Felenduir would be the one who will first suffer from his wrath.


He sighed again, and slowly looked around. The cell has nothing but a cot a sma small table beside the bed. He gazed at a bowl of water resting in the corner of the cell.

He got up very slowly, as every small movement brought piercing pain throughout his body. Maybe by washing his wounds, the pain would slightly go away.


The blond elf was about to move toward the corner, when the door of his cell opened with a loud bark.


Gildor, Felenduir’s captain, walked in and regarded the prisoner. A cruel smirk showed upon his face.


"Ready for another wonderful day, my lord?" he asked mockingly. A glint of danger in his beyeseyes, "Come, Prince Felenduir would like to have a bit of a word with you."


TBC…