Stolen

“You
should take off your clothes,” came a female voice
behind me, in a tone that was both timid bossy.

Startled,
I looked up. It was the maiden; Elian I assume was her name. “Why?” I asked.

The
woman pursed her lips, drawing them to a pin point as if to keep in the secrets
she held. “You best do as he says,” was all she said, and walked off down the
hall.

I
considered her words, and reluctantly shed my tunic and leggings then scrambled
beneath the blankets. No sooner had I done this before the Dark Lord returned,
a small flask in one and a chalice in the other.

Uncorking
the top he poured the entire contents of the bottle into the cup and held it
out to me. “Drink this.”

Reaching
up slowly I took it and sniffed it gingerly. It was a potion; the magic that emitted
from it tore away the last of Adar’s magic that had
clung around me and I winced. Extending the cup back out to him I shook my
head, not trusting him.

He
remained impassible. “You will drink it. I do not want to hold you while you
struggle, but you will drink it.”

Again
I hesitated, and only when he made a small movement toward the bed did I lift
the chalice to my lips. The rim of the cup was cold and smooth, as was the stem
in my fingers which I reluctantly tipped to tilt the solution to my mouth to
take a tiny sip.

I
cringed and fought to stop myself from spitting it back; the potion was burning
hot and freezing cold all at the same time, with a horribly bitter aftertaste.
My whole face contorted and my eyes watered as I swallowed, and lowered the cup.

Still
he waited. “All of it.”

Steeling
myself I threw my head back and gulped, emptying the chalice in three horrible
mouthfuls. Retching and coughing, I blindly extended the cup in his direction,
and he took it.

“Now
you will sleep,” he said in what was nearly a soothing tone, and even as he
said so weariness washed over my limbs. The bed seemed softer and larger, the
blankets were warmer, my fear began to waver and was replaced by sleepiness as
I lay back and my eyelids shut.

When
I woke I knew he was beside the bed; I could sense his presence.

“Look
in the mirror, young one,” came the Dark Lord’s voice,
as silky as ever. “You will find you have changed.”

Turning
my head I saw a full length mirror beside the bed, and throwing modesty to the
wind I threw the covers back and sprang up. I stood before the mirror and
gasped, then clapped one hand over my mouth as I did not recognize my own
voice.

But
mirrors do not lie: the curves of my face had melted away to reveal cheekbones,
my mouth had lost some of its plumpness and my nose was larger and not so
round. My shoulders were broad and my limbs were long, stomach flat, hips
narrow, and genitals strangely heavy between my thighs. I stood now a head
shorter than the Dark Lord who stood behind me; I was exactly the same height
as Adar had been.

“What
have you done to me?” I whispered, dismayed. I no longer had my child-body.
This new body was strange, grown, and old, and now he had left nothing of my
former self.

“I
need a full-grown adult for my purposes,” was the reply. “And so, instead of
waiting another twenty five years for you to come of age in full body and mind,
I waited only a night and a day.”

“What
do you want me for?” I demanded.

He
eyed me up and down, like a horse buyer inspecting a prospect, before tossing
me a long black wrap. “Rest and eat, and then you shall find out.”

He
left the room as I pulled the wrap on and Elian brought me a tray of food.

I
balanced it on my lap, sitting in a lounge, and picked at it unhappily with my
seemingly over-large hands. I did not want food; I wanted answers. I wanted to
know why Adar and I had been brought here, why Adar had passed, and what he
wanted with an adult me. I wanted to know why the Valar
chose to forget our troubles, and left us to die in the Dark Lord’s realm. I
really wanted to be my childlike self again, and more than anything, I wanted
Adar back.

Distraught
I set the tray aside, and paced the room. The new, longer limbs were gangly at
first but their strength would be appreciated. My mind had grown too and of
that I was glad; I could not imagine what it would be to have a body of a fifty
year old with the mind of my former twenty five year old self.

I
wanted to derive a way to escape, but though my mind was mature I did not have
the experience or learned cunning of an adult. I paced and fretted over this,
until at last Elian came to take the tray away.

“He
will see you now,” she said quietly, looking at the floor with her shoulders
hunched. “Through that door you will find a bathroom, which you are to go
through. That is yours. Beyond that are his chambers.”

Very
well, I was ready for answers. I thanked her and turned on my heel toward the
door.

There
was a bathroom as she had said, a hot spring bubbling through the floor to
collect in an elaborate marble basin for bathing. On the other side of the
bathroom, directly opposite the door to my bedroom was another door, which I
burst through without bothering to knock.

The
room which I entered was gleaming black marble and
polished stone, with red satin drapes looped about the room so it looked as if
the walls were slashed and bleeding. A great fire blazed from a dish in the
center, and there was a bed hung with bright red curtains. It was very similar
to the room in which I had found Adar, but bigger.

I
saw the Dark Lord sitting before the fire on a lounge, his back to me, and I
crossed the room and stood before him. “Now you must tell me what it is that
you want of me,” I demanded, loud and rather rudely. “And you must tell me what
you have done to my Adar.”

I
could see the reflection of the flames in his dark eyes as he looked past me
into the fire, and he smiled as if amused. The door I had come through shut
with a small click, and shiver ran up my spine.

“What
is it you want?” I said again, and my voice trembled.

“Are
you afraid?” he asked.

“Yes,”
I replied honestly. “You mean to use me.”

One
long hand came to curl slightly over his mouth as he gave a slight nod. “Yes, I
will.”

“No,”
I told him. “You cannot use me.” But even as I said this I knew I was wrong,
and so did he.

“You
have two choices in the matter: you can struggle and make this difficult for us
both or you can cooperate, which would be to your advantage.”

“What
is this matter that I have a choice in?”

“First
of all, the Sindarin elves of the woodland realms are
the fiercest out of all your elvin kin, great archers
and warriors.” He licked his lips and tilted his head, still not looking at me.
“And do you know what makes you unique, you and your Adar, to your exceptional
line? I shall tell you,” he said, not waiting for me to answer. “class=GramE>Your Adar, like his adar before
him, and his adar and so forth,” Sauron gestured
abstractly with his hand as he continued. “Can bear children,
a gift from the Valar.”

I
nodded. I knew this already. Adar had told me that from the very beginning.

“You
are only line known to do this,” he continued. “And that is why I need you
specifically.”

There
came a long pause and a knot of foreboding began to form in the pit of my
stomach.

“A
woman, even an elf woman, cannot make a great enough contribution to my
offspring to be.” His eyes became wide and greedy, the reflection of firelight
dancing in them.

I
was afraid and began to back away openly. “I will not,” I informed him, edging
around the fire and looking wildly about for a way to escape. “I will not do as
you say.”

He
did not rise from his seat but eyed me steadily, the way a snake eyes a mouse.
“You, I am sorry to say, have no choice in the matter.”

“It
is my body!” I cried rebelliously.

“No,”
he said coldly now. “It is mine. What is your name, young Mirkwood class=SpellE>princeling?”

“What?”

“Your
name,” he repeated indulgently.

“Legolas,”
I replied, and then wished I had not told him.

“Legolas,”
he repeated softly, slowly, as if he were savoring the word. “Greenleaf.
Legolas, we can do this one of two ways. I have told you of your choices.”

“You
will let me go!” I demanded, hearing my own voice grow shrill. “I would sooner
die than serve you, Sauron!”

“Dying
is not one of your choices.” As he spoke soft tendrils of magic wove their way
around me, snaking over my skin and curling up into completion. It is one thing
to be prisoner, a physical prisoner, locked away in a dungeon or a tower or
chained to a rock by the sea. That is not so terrible for your mind is free to
escape from your body, it is still your own, and your soul can depart if you
choose and flee to Mandos’s halls.

It
is something completely different when your mind is not your own.

When
elves are taken against their will, normally the Fea
departs the body and finds peace in the Halls of Mandos
for they do not wish to dwell any longer in a body that had been violated so,
but that would not be the case with me.

He
put spells on me, locking my Fëa within my physical
body so that I would not ever leave him with a shell of my former self. I
wondered if I were even an elf any longer.

TBC