Release From Lies

Title: Release from Lies
Author: Noelwing
Email: noelwing@aol.com
Disclaimer: Middle-earth and all characters within are the property of JRR. Tolkien. Any original characters are property of the author.
Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel Legolas/Haldir Lindir/Figwit
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU
Summary: After escaping from a life in captivity, Lindir and Figwit are free to explore their new lives and their feelings for each other.
Warnings: This story will contain rape in later chapters as well as abuse and torture.
Author’s notes: I apologize for the long delay in getting this chapter posted. I had the thing written and then practically rewrote it. Now it is closer to what I wanted it to be. I wanted to be able to tell the history of both Lindir and Figwit. So technically, this chapter is the first of two parts. The next chapter will tell Lindir’s history as well as fill in some of the gaps in this story. Please enjoy.

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Release From Lies: Part 3
Figwit’s Story


Figwit sat on his bed and looked out the window of his room. This was the second morning he had spent in Mirkwood yet he already felt so at ease. The tree leaves swayed in the wind and the rustling of their leaves seemed almost like a language. He could feel in his heart that the trees were trying to say something to him but he did not quite understand. Perhaps he would understand better if he went for a walk beneath the trees.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized that such a thought had even entered his mind. Back in Rivendell, he had been afraid to venture out, at least on his own anyway. It had been his fear of what was beyond the confines of his master’s chambers that kept him from trying to escape.

He had come to learn that going outside meant leaving the protection of his master. That was what Glorfindel had taught him. After being through everything that he had, Figwit internalized the rule very easily. By doing so, his previous life as a wandering elf had become so buried.

Once again, the leaves of the trees rustled but louder this time. Something about the movement of the trees was so familiar but Figwit was still too afraid to acknowledge it. For in trying to connect with what seemed like good memories, only horrible ones came back into focus.

A shiver ran down Figwit’s spine as, for the first time in many years, he thought about the day he had been so cruelly torn from his old life. He vividly remembered the pain and humiliation he endured as his journey into slavery began. It was a journey that eventually led him to Glorfindel.

~ ~ ~ ~

A shriek escaped his throat as he was once again grabbed by his hair and yanked to his feet. Already he had endured several beatings from his captors and now it looked as though he would receive another. It had been three days since he was captured and every attempt to escape had been rewarded with a beating. The last beating he had received had been delivered by a whip that had left searing lashes on his back. He could still feel the whips traces on his back and knew that he would feel it for days to come.

Why did these Noldor elves have to be so cruel? As a child, his family had taught him to avoid Noldor elves at all costs for they enslaved elves like him and his people. Figwit and his kind were wandering elves and owed their allegiance to no realm. His little group had been passing through open territory when they were ambushed by a pack of Noldor slave traders. Terror ran through the tiny group of elves and they all scattered in an effort to avoid capture. Figwit had not been one of the lucky ones and now he was a prisoner of the Noldor.

“Stop dragging your feet!” The elf that held him by the hair commanded. Figwit tried to walk but three days of beatings and being without food had taken a severe toll on his body. Now he was being dragged to somewhere unknown to him and he wondered what horrid designs his captors had in mind for him this time.

He was shoved through the flaps of a crudely established tent lit by several lanterns suspended from the poles supporting the roof. There was also a table where another elf waited. This elf was dark and Figwit feared him right away. But what frightened him more was the unknown purpose for being in this tent to begin with.

“Well, here is the newest one,” Said the elf whose hand was still entangled within his hair.

The other elf eyed him for a minute and then approached. “By the Valar, what have you brought me this time?” Figwit squeaked pitifully as the elf began to grope all over his body. He squirmed as the elf’s hands began to travel lower and lower down his torso and then in between his legs.

“Stop that,” Figwit yelped. The elf molesting him dealt a stinging slap to his face which was promptly followed by another yank on his hair from the guard that was restraining him.

“Hold your tongue whelp, how dare you try to tell your superior to do anything!” The elf spoke curtly before continuing with the crude examination of Figwit’s body.

“So Celebros, do you think this one will fetch a good price?” Asked the elf who had yet to be named.

“Angmor, I have been very generous with your pay as well as that of your rag-tag hunting party and all you can bring me is this bag of bones.”

“He may not have much meat on his bones but surely he must have other things to offer a master.” Figwit cringed at Angmor’s words; what did he mean by ‘other things’.

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch, I need to confirm that before we decide on an asking price,” Said Celebros as he went back to the table and pulled out a jug. He un-corked the small jug and began to pour the contents (an oily substance by the looks of it) onto his fingers.

“Get him ready,” Celebros said as he motioned for Angmor to bring the captive over to the table.

Figwit dug his heels into the ground in an effort to remain as far away from that table as possible. He didn’t know what the two elves were going to do to him but he could feel that it was nothing good.

Angmor relinquished his grip on his captive’s hair and grabbed him around his waist instead. The moment Figwit’s feet lost touch with the ground he began to panic all the more. The distance to the table was quickly covered and he was slammed face down onto the table’s surface just as quickly. His legs dangled over the side and he kicked them wildly at the air.

Angmor re-established his grip in the captive’s hair rendering his upper torso immobile. When Celebros was sure the captive was properly restrained he moved on to the next step of the examination. He reached for the waist-band of the elf’s leggings and began to rip the garment away.

Figwit began to scream as he felt his backside and legs become exposed and he redoubled his efforts to escape. But the two elves tormenting him didn’t seem to care for his screams and even ignored his pleas to stop what they were doing.

Once Celebros had successfully removed the captive’s leggings he grabbed a hold of one of the elf’s ankles and then the other. He quickly pushed the elf’s legs apart and slipped in between them. The width of Celebros’ hips prevented the elf from being able to close his legs. Now he could determine if this elf had the value was most sought after in slaves.

The vulnerability that Figwit felt at being unable to protect his exposed backside was impossible to put into words. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he continued to plea for release. Figwit suddenly felt a cold hand upon one of his buttocks and that same hand pushed the globe of flesh aside just as quickly. Figwit went rigid as he felt and oil slicked finger press at the ring of muscle that guarded the entrance to his body.

Figwit’s keening wail filled the tent as Celebros pushed his finger deeper into his body. The sensation was that of stinging mixed with fiery pain that grew more and more intense. Cold sweats began to break out all over his body and his muscles ached from his struggles.

Celebros was pleased by the elf’s tightness. “I think we are in luck this time,” He said as he began to turn his finger within the captive’s tight passage. He was further pleased by the sudden appearance of blood; it was the ultimate confirmation. “Yes, this one is indeed a virgin.” He withdrew his finger just as carelessly as he had inserted it from the captive’s body and smiled at the blood that coated his finger.

“See, I knew he was untouched. This means we can charge more for him at the market.”

Celebros nodded his head in agreement with Angmor but cautioned that they still had a lot of work to do before their captive could be presented as a commodity.

“You can leave that to me Celebros, I have experience with breaking new slaves.” Angmor said as he dragged the now listless captive off the examination table. Figwit instantly crumpled to the ground and whimpered pathetically. His body trembled uncontrollably with the shock of what had just happened to him.

Celebros casually pulled a small towel from his tunic pocket and began to clean his hands. “If you must discipline him all I ask is that you not hurt or mark his face in anyway.” Angmor promised to follow Celebros’ request. He knew that any disobedience on his part would come out of his pay and he wouldn’t have that.

Figwit did nothing as Angmor half carried- half dragged him out of the tent and across the camp. He made no effort to attempt escape or even to recover his modesty as he was dragged half naked to another tent. Angmor dropped him on the ground and quickly secured the new slave with shackles.

“You are lucky you are untouched,” He said snidely. “Such a thing usually enhances your chances of enjoying a better quality of life once you have been purchased.”

If he were not in so much shock Figwit would have laughed out loud. He simply lay motionless as his world, once full of open territory, friendship and peace dwindled down to a place where the clinking of chains was the only sound to be heard.

That was the first of many nightmares that Figwit encountered. He watched as his friends and traveling companions, who had also been captured with him, were beaten, tortured or sold off. The status of his body spared Figwit the lust of the guards but that did not save him from the ‘training’.

There was no way for him to avoid pain. He did not want to submit to the commands of Angmor but resistance brought upon the worst beatings. But obedience was no guarantee of safety either. Even when he tried to do as he was told, he then could not do anything right. He was never fast enough, never quiet enough and his physical appearance was not good enough either.

He was told constantly that he was too scrawny and that his hair was too long and unruly. It was even commented that his bony facial structure and gray eyes made him appear freakish.

Figwit could not understand, if his body was so important than why did these elves insist on harming it so. Did they not see that there was a soul inside this body, a soul that was slowly dying from their horrible treatment?

He had no way to mark how much time had passed for each day was the same; just full of cruel words and crueler treatment. Through it all was this expectation that he was to learn how to use his body to please others and thus he was to learn submission.

Then it came, the day he was deemed fit to be made available to potential buyers. He barely acknowledged the passerby’s that spared him a glance or even brief physical contact. Some would come and touch his face or tilt up his chin so that they might look into his eyes. Figwit had become so used to this kind of treatment that he didn’t notice how many had come to look at him.

One in particular expressed a great interest. Immediately Figwit felt threatened by this elf. He was very tall and broad-shouldered. His ice-blue eyes matched his stern features perfectly. His white hair added a kind of callousness to his appearance.

He was bolder than any of the others who had checked him out so far. This elf’s touches were not light and brief but lingering. Eventually, Celebros stepped in.

“General Anormegil, how nice to see you,” Celebros said, his words dripping with honey in the attempt to hold the general’s interests.

Figwit was relieved to have had the general’s attention averted away from him but the relief was only temporary. The more Celebros spoke with the strange elf the more nervous Figwit began to feel.

He could not here what was being said but Figwit could tell that Celebros was pleased with the way the conversation was going. And then it happened, the two elves were shaking hands, not only had a deal been reached but was being closed as well. Figwit’s heart sank with the grim realization that he had just been purchased.

“I never thought it would happen,” Celebros said, “I didn’t really think anyone would want to play host to scrawny one like you. But feel lucky, the general just happens to be a collector of oddities.”

The next chain of events passed by in a fog, being paid for, escorted to the General’s talan; Figiwt was numb to it all. Reality came back into focus when he received his first command from his new master. Anormegil ordered him to bathe and come out when he was finished.

Figwit did as he was ordered and washed himself of any filth he had collected on his journey from the slave market to his master’s home. When he finished, Anormegil approached him again. He was dressed in loose fitting lounge robes. The robes were ice blue in color and shifted around him with every step. Compared to the General, Figwit felt quite naked in the white cotton tunic he was wearing.

Figwit held still as Anormegil circled around him before stopping to stare him in the face. Anormegil reached out and cupped Figwit’s face. The little elf flinched and took an instinctive step backward. The corners of the general’s lips perked up into a smirk. He found the elf’s slight resistance to be most amusing. Clearly, Celebros had not trained this one enough; but no matter.

What stared as exploratory touches quickly advanced to intrusive and painful grasps. Figwit stepped back only to have the general step with him and further invade his space. Worst of all, Figwit could tell that his new master was thoroughly enjoying this.

Anormegil’s hand shot out and grasped the upper part of Figwit’s left arm in a vice-like grip. Figwit’s face contorted and a yelp escaped his mouth. Anormegil took the opportunity and smashed his lips to those of his slave. The kiss lasted for only a second before Anormegil bolted away with blood dripping from his lip.

Anormegil fingered the blood on his lips and stared at his slave. Slaves had resisted him in the past not once had one of them ever dared to harm him. Anormegil never would have thought this little one to be so feisty. The whole thing was actually quite exciting.

Anormegil swooped over and was upon his slave like a wave upon a rock. Figwit had no time to react or brace himself as the general’s hand swatted his face. Figwit cried aloud. A terrible ringing filled his ears and the area where the blow was landed burned. Again he could taste blood. Only this time, it was his own blood he tasted.

Anormegil took full advantage of the elf’s dazed state and scooped him up into his arms. “How much more blood will be drawn tonight?”

Anormegil carried the defenseless elf over to his bed and dropped him on the mattress. Anormegil quickly divested himself of his robes before climbing on the bed and settling down between the legs of his slave. Anormegil stroked his hardening member and sucked on the fingers of his right hand. He was prepared, now it was time to ready his slave.

Figwit could only feel it vaguely at first but the sensation of something pressing at the opening between his legs grew ever more intense. All at once the sensation escalated into a stabbing pain. His face winced, his body writhed and kicked his legs but his struggles did nothing to expel the invasion from his body.

Anormegil worked his fingers within the elf’s body. He pushed and stretched and grew evermore aroused by the elf’s tightness. The thought of being enveloped by that tight, virginal channel made his member ach unbearably. He could not wait any longer; it was time for him to claim his property completely.

When Anormegil withdrew his fingers Figwit yelped. He felt his legs being pushed apart further and his master settled on top of him. He was so heavy, Figwit thought he would be crushed if the elf did not get off of him. Once more, he felt the pressing sensation between his legs. But this time the pain that followed was like nothing he had ever felt before.

Figwit screamed and beat his fists into Anormegil’s shoulders. He kicked his legs and cried out. He had been trained to be submissive in this act but now that it was actually happening he could not allow it. He had to fight back. He continued to strike in any way he could. He clawed the flesh of Anormegil’s back with his nails and pulled at his hair.

Anormegil shoved Figwit down on the bed and landed another strike to the elf’s face. Figwit could feel the sting where the blow hand landed but he continued to struggle. By now Anormegil was fed up with this slave’s struggles. He raised his fist and brought it down upon the face of the elf beneath him. Blood poured from Figwit’s nostrils and he fell prone on the bed. He could do nothing to stop Anormegil as he pushed until he was fully sheathed within his body.

Cold sweats formed on Figwit’s brow and all over the rest of his body. Anormegil paid no heed to the elf’s cries. He only groaned and began to thrust into the body that lay trapped beneath him.

“No…please stop…” Figwit repeated those words over and over but Anormegil continued his assault. Pain filled every fiber in Figwit’s being and tears flowed from his eyes and down the sides of his face. Anormegil suddenly wrapped his arms around Figwit’s torso and squeezed. In a flurry of motion, Figwit suddenly found himself sitting upon Anormegil’s lap facing him.

One look at Anormegil’s face was enough. Figiwit shut his eyes to avoid looking at that lust filled face. He wanted his senses to dull so he didn’t have to here Anormegil’s panting or feel the pain that burned within him.

Anormegil resumed to pound into Figwit’s body. The little elf felt like he was being split in two. His arms hung limply and his head fell backward and his body was jostled relentlessly. All he could do now was cry and he did so until the burning exploded into a scalding pain that wiped all conscious thought from him. Figwit welcomed the darkness when it came.

When he woke up again, Anormegil was no longer inside of him but the aftermath of his ravishment upon Figwit’s body could be felt all over. Sitting up was agony. There was so much pain in between his legs and Figwit nearly shrieked when he saw the extent of the damage. Blood, crimson red blood, covered the insides of his thighs and stained the sheets. It wasn’t until he touched it that Figwit knew it was real. He stared at his blood stained finger tips and began to cry.

“Oh be quiet, you are not hurt that bad.” Anormegil was sitting next to him on the bed. He casually reclined against the headboard with a goblet of wine in his hand.

Figwit’s insides curled, he rolled and toppled out of the bed. A sudden madness possessed him and completely numbed the pain in his body. The moment he was able to stand he bolted out of the room. Anormegil screamed after him but Figwit paid no heed. All he wanted was to get out of this place. Figwit dashed through a bundle of drapes and found himself on a balcony.

Anormegil couldn’t believe his eyes; the little slave grasped a hold of the balcony and by all appearances, was preparing to jump. He lunged forward and grabbed a fist full of the elf’s dark hair and yanked him back.

Figwit squealed but maintained his grip on the balcony. Anormegil gave another firm yank but Figwit still did not relent. Anormegil was quite tired of this elf and his insane antics. He rammed his fist into the elf’s back causing him to loosen his grip on the balcony. Anormegil took full advantage of the elf’s momentary paralysis. He scooped the helpless into his arms and carried him back to the bed.

Figwit could feel himself being dumped onto the bed, just where he didn’t want to be. Anormegil pounced on him and pinned his wrists to the bed. Figwit tossed his head from side to side and cried pitifully. The elf on top of him delivered another stinging slap to his face.

“I control your life now. That means that I decide if you can live or die.”

And so the first night as a slave passed for Figwit. Anormegil used every method available to keep Figwit under control. Beatings, chains and drugs were all endured by the slave but Figwit continued to fight his master, he honestly hoped to one day be able to anger Anormegil enough so that he might kill him. But it never happened.

It was not just Anormegil who did as he pleased with his body. At times Figwit was given to guests of the general as amusement. And if it wasn’t Anormegil’s guests than it was his minions. As many as five troops at once would be allowed to have their way with him. They would throw him to the ground, beat him and finally rape him. Figwit was only able to fight them for so long and he buckled under the agony.

Figwit would cry out to Anormegil for mercy but the general ignored him. Often Anormegil would chat with his troops while they waited for their turn or Anormegil would watch looking casually amused. And every morning afterward, Figwit awoke to the disappointment that he was still alive.

One day, Figwit found himself dressed for traveling and being loaded into the back of a wagon. Anormegil had been given the assignment of transporting some goods from Lothlorien to Rivendell. Figwit was covered head to toe in a gray colored cloak. The only part of him that remained uncovered was his hands that were chained securely to the wagon.

The journey was a long and difficult one. Figwit was aware of the trees around him but he did not here their songs to him. He had become so numb, dead in spirit but still living in body.

One morning, Anormegil as well as his troops were a bit uneasy. The slightest tremor in the trees or sound they tensed as though ready to attack. A howl unlike anything Figwit had ever heard erupted from the woods. Orcs, and lots of them, descended among the small group of elves.

In the confusion, the horses pulling the wagon Figwit was in, reared and tried to bolt away. But the animals only succeeded in stumbling over the rough and uneven terrain causing both the animals and the wagon to tip over. Figwit’s head slammed into contact with the hard earth. Outside, he could faintly hear the wails of the orcs and the screams of the troops. Then, there was only darkness.

The darkness was so comforting and quiet; nothing could hurt him there. But slowly light began to penetrate into the protective darkness. Then, and not to welcome, the veil was lifted and Figwit, once again, found himself in the world of the living.

But he was someplace different. Instead of a roof made up of entangling vines and branches, a solid, wood ceiling was over him. Beneath him he felt something soft and pleasantly warm; he was in a bed. This was indeed very strange. He was in a bed but he could not feel the presence of his master. But the rustle of fabric alerted him that he was not alone in the room.

Figwit turned to see another elf. The fair colored hair and blue eyes were unlike those of his master’s. The hair had gold kissed yellow tone to it and the eyes were slanted in concern. Clearly this elf was not his master, but who was he then?

“I am Lindir. You are in Rivendell and these rooms belong to my master.”

Figwit only looked at Linder. It had been so long since anyone had spoken to him in such a civil manner that Figwit did not know how to respond.

It was then that another elf entered the room. This elf was tall and grand with the same muscular build that Anormegil had. Lindir bowed and immediately addressed the elf before him as ‘master’. The training that had so brutally been instilled told Figwit that he was to bow as well. But his body was stiff and he felt so weak; he couldn’t do as he was supposed to.

When Lindir’s master approached him, Figwit began to panic. He could feel the elf coming closer and he turned his face away and braced for the blow; but it never came. The hand that touched his face, though firm, inflicted no pain and only turned his head so that his face could be seen.

“I am Glorfindel, captain of Rivendell’s armed forces. You were brought here several days ago. Was one of the soldiers in the convoy you were with your master; tell me at once?”

“Yes,” Answered Figwit, understanding by the commanding tone that Glorfindel was not one to be disobeyed.

“Who was your master?” Glorfindel asked in the same tone.

“Anormegil.” The general’s name tasted so strange upon Figwit’s tongue. He had never referred to Anormegil by his name for the general had decreed that he was to address him as ‘master’ and only as ‘master’.

“Then I must inform you that your master is dead. Anormegil’s convoy was attacked by orcs, you are the only survivor.”

Figwit’s memory flashed, during the attack he had become trapped beneath the wagon he was riding in; he survived because the wagon had hidden him. He had lived yet Anormegil had not. What now was to become of him?

Again, Glorfindel grasped Figwit’s chin and coached his head from Left to right. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Figwit,” He said reluctantly. After he became a slave, his name had no longer mattered. He felt so strange to be saying it after all that time.

Glorfindel chuckled and commented on what an unusual name he had. Then he turned and headed out of the room and motioned for Lindir to follow him. They shut the door behind them and Figwit could vaguely here them speaking on the other side. What they spoke of he could not decipher but he knew it concerned him.

After a few minutes, Lindir came back into the room and said. “My master’s duties call for him to be away from Rivendell for now. But when he returns he will try to find someone who will take you. But until then, you are Lord Glorfindel’s property.”

Figwit rolled away from Lindir and sighed. So he was to be given away, just like that. He would have no say in the matter whatsoever and Figwit had to ask himself why he was surprised. Had he, without even knowing it, been hoping that these people would release him?

Lindir rested his hand on Figwit’s shoulder. “The General was a friend of my lord and as such, all that was Anormegil’s now belongs to Glorfindel; that includes you. You are the property of my master now but is not sure yet of what to do with you.

“But until he does know, my lord has commanded that I take care of you.”

At that point, Figwit still wondered why he couldn’t have died like his former master had. He had wanted death for so long. But as time spent in Rivendell went by, he began to feel different.

No longer was he confined in a room and bound by chains. The room he and Lindir shared did have a lock on the door but he had seldom seen Lindir use it. Lindir him self, was no warrior, no one that could cause any real physical harm. And Glorfindel’s quarters were not run like a prison chamber; the widows were left open often.

Under Lindir’s care, his wounds healed and he began to feel strong again. Escaping suddenly did not feel so impossible. He just needed to wait for the right time.

Every now and then, Lindir stepped out of Glorfindel’s quarters to run errands. Lindir was indeed a very trusted slave and it seemed as though he could move about Rivendell unescorted. One day, he told Figwit (who up until that point had only been pretending to still be too weak to do much) that he was leaving and would be back later with food for the both of them. Figwit waited a few minutes until he was certain that Lindir was gone.

This was his chance. He left the small bedroom and entered the main part of Glorfindel’s suite. It was a gorgeous and spacious room filled with nice furnishings and other such treasures. Clearly this Glorfindel was a wealthy elf, maybe even more so than Anormegil. But Figwit did not have time to pay attention to such things; if he was to escape he had to act fast.

Figwit approached the first window and saw that there was a garden beyond it. Ignoring the fierce beating of his heart, he grasped the edges and climbed out. The moment his bear feet connected with the grass, old instincts long since buried began to fire. Once more he began to feel hope again and he took off running through the garden.

He had no idea where he was going but he believed that he had to find a way into the more wild parts of the forest that surrounded this vast manor. But to his dismay, he only found more structures. /Now what am I supposed to do/ he thought to himself as he wandered into what appeared to be some kind of walkway. He couldn’t go back the way he came but he did not feel very confidant in the direction he was heading now.

“Who goes there?” A loud, booming voice demanded. Figwit turned to see only a few yards down the walkway an elf unlike any he had ever seen before. This elf had hair as black as the deepest night and eyes sharper than steel. The colors of his clothes were dark as well and it added to the elf’s already intimidating presence.

Without even thinking, Figwit bolted away but the other elf was right behind him. Memories of running from the slave catchers only added to Figwit’s fear. He couldn’t believe it was happening all over again. He was running for his life only to be captured by cruel hands.

Figwit was dragged back into the building and thrown against the wall. His captor took advantage of his confused state and ran his hands along his neck and wrists; he was looking for something.

“You’re not wearing a slave band and I don’t see any emblem of an owner upon your clothing.” The dark haired elf grasped Figwit’s chin with his hand.

Like a frightened animal, Figwit opened his mouth and sank his teeth into the tender portion of his captor’s palm.

The black haired elf wailed and pulled his hand away. The enraged elf fisted his bloody palm and struck Figwit across the face knocking him to the ground. Figwit slammed down hard on the cold, marble surface and the taste of blood filled his mouth. His whole body became numb; he was now completely at the mercy of this vicious elf.

“Lord Elladan, please stop!”

Figwit could recognize Lindir’s voice and felt grateful to hear it.

Lindir kneeled down to the ground and put his arms around the helpless elf. Figwit responded by putting his head in Lindir’s lap and reaching for his hand. Lindir grasped Figwit’s hand in his own and held it firmly.

“Lindir, tell me who this is!” The elf now Identified as Elladan demanded.

“My lord, his name is Figwit. Please forgive him. My lord Glorfindel only recently acquired him.”

“If that is so then explain why he has left your master’s chambers?”

“I left him some time ago. He must have been seeking me.”

Elladan looked unconvinced. “I am not so certain I can believe that. With the way he behaved when I confronted him, I would guess that he was really trying to escape.”

Figwit trembled, he could tell by the tone of Elladan’s voice that his attempt to escape not only entailed a cruel punishment but that Elladan himself was eager to deal it.

“Lindir, Glorfindel has trained you so well, surely you can educate your friend here as to what the punishment is for a slave who tries to escape.”

“I do know the punishment my lord. 20 lashes of a whip and whatever else the master sees as fit.”

“Yes, indeed,” Elladan said, his voice heavy with malice. Figwit could feel the elf’s lust for pain.

“But it is also law in this land that a master exercise lenience as well as authority.”

This was a different voice entirely. Figwit dared to look up and saw yet another black-haired elf similar in appearance to Elladan. But Figwit could tell that this elf was very different. So much more regal was his appearance. His demeanor spoke of one tempered by age an experience.

“Lord Elrond,” Lindir said addressing the newly appeared elf.

“Lindir, you say this one here was only seeking you?” Elrond said before suddenly addressing Figwit. “Is that true little one?”

Figwit’s voice had fled from him; he was not sure what to do. It was then that he felt Lindir squeeze his hand. Feeling assured by Lindir’s presence, Figwit looked at Elrond and nodded.

Looking satisfied, Elrond turned his attentions to Elladan. “Well, there you have it. This was an honest mistake and I think this one should be let off with a warning this time.”

“I promise my Lords,” Lindir suddenly interjected. “I promise that this will never happen again.”

Like lightning, Elladan lashed out upon Lindir and struck his hand across the elf’s face. Lindir reeled in shock from the blow and whimpered pathetically. Elrond was equally shocked by Elladan’s brutality.

“Elladan, was that necessary?” Elrond was clearly disgusted by Elladan’s actions.

Elladan, however, looked pleased with himself. “You said I should practice lenience and I am. I will spare this one but only this once.” Elladan turned his attention to Figwit. “That blow was meant as your punishment but because Lindir is responsible for you he will bear it in your stead.”

Figwit’s heart jumped in his throat. He had suffered much punishment and pain before but having Lindir take a blow that was supposed to be his seemed far crueler than anything he had ever endured before. Would this be the scenario if he ever made a mistake again?

Elladan threw Elrond a smug look and then strode away. Once he was out of sight, Elrond kneeled down to Lindir.

“Lindir, are you hurt badly?” Elrond carefully examined Lindir’s face. Figwit moved to give Elrond room. He watched in fascination as Elrond used the utmost care in examining Lindir.

“I am fine my lord but I must get Figwit back to my master’s chambers right away.” Lindir, with Elrond’s help, stood up. Figwit got to his feet as well. He was still a bit shaky from the adrenaline still in his system but he could walk.

“I shall escort you back then,” Said Elrond. Lindir nodded and extended his hand for Figwit to take, which he did and the three of them set off.

Trying to escape was now the furthest thing from Figwit’s mind. Lindir had vouched for him and saved him from Elladan’s clutches. Figwit never thought some one would do that for him.

When they made it back to Glorfindel’s chamber, Figwit quickly went inside. Suddenly these quarters felt safe and secure. Lindir immediately confronted him.

“You tried to escape, I know it.” He implored. “I was able to save you this time but I cannot do it a second time. Whatever other plans you have you must forget them.”

“I had to try Lindir. If I remain a slave then I know that sooner or later I will die.”

“No, if you try to escape again, you will die. Elladan is responsible for the enforcement of slave laws here in Rivendell. Believe me when I say he is merciless.

“Elladan is the lord Elrond’s elder son. Trust me Figwit, do not ever give him a reason to punish you. You have no idea what he is capable of.” Lindir began to tremble as though he were being assaulted by terrible memories. Figwit wanted to ask Lindir what it was he was thinking about at that particular moment but Lindir was clearly upset. So Figwit withheld his curiosity.

By this time, Lindir’s face was showing the result of Elladan’s ‘leniency’. Figwit reached out and gently cupped Lindir’s face. “I’m sorry, I never meant for you to be hurt.” He said as gently as he knew how.

Lindir nodded sullenly. “Promise me that you won’t try that again; promise!”

Figwit only nodded. His situation was entirely different than when he had been in the hands of Anormegil. If he did anything here, Lindir would be the one to suffer. “What am I to do then?”

Lindir sighed looking both relieved and sad at the same time. “Just listen to what I say. If you behave yourself well and work hard to impress lord Glorfindel when he returns then maybe he will see to it that you go to a good master.”

“Is there even such a thing?” Figwit said cynically.

“I believe Glorfindel can find someone better than Anormegil.”

Figwit gasped, he had no idea that Lindir knew that much about him. If he had to remain in slavery than he hoped that maybe he could have a better master than Anormegil. So Figwit decided to put his faith in Lindir.

From that day forward, Figwit followed Lindir’s instructions religiously. He did what Lindir asked him to, ate whatever was put in front of him and even let Lindir do his hair and dress him. As a result, his body fleshed out, his once sallow skin now looked healthy and his hair had become soft and shiny. But the greatest gain was being taught how to read and to write. Being a wild elf, it was very seldom that he met people who were able to read and write. Such skills were not imperative to surviving in the wild.

A month passed by and Figwit had to admit that his physical appearance had changed and he felt that his life, though still held in captivity, had been greatly enriched. It was all thanks to Lindir who had been so good to him. But this only cast a new shadow upon Figwit’s heart. As much as he would have loved to have been able to stay with Lindir, he knew he, most likely, would not be able to.

From what Lindir said, Glorfindel would be back any day now. That meant that he would soon be placed in the hands of another master and after that, his life would all be according to the whims of that master. And if that master wanted to leave Rivendell, he would not see Lindir again. And the thought of that devastated him.

Then it came, the day Glorfindel returned to Rivendell. Lindir was in a flurry of preparations for his master’s return. Figwit was as compliant as ever while Lindir braided his hair and wore the clothes Lindir had selected for him. Never before had Figwit been able to wear silks and velvets.

When Glorfindel entered his chamber, Lindir immediately bowed and welcomed his master. Figwit, just as Lindir had taught him, followed suit. Glorfindel smiled at the both of them and bid them to rise.

“I don’t believe this, you look like a new elf Figwit. Lindir you have done very well with him.” Glorfindel was quite jovial and Figwit found he was able to relax a little.

“I only did as you asked my lord.” Lindir said obediently.

“Well, let us see how well he learned,” Glorfindel removed the travel bag he had been carrying on his shoulder and handed it to Figwit. “Go a head and get the clothes in here unpacked and in the wardrobe.” It was an order but it was given in such a jovial way.

Figwit knew what to do and took the bag from Glorfindel’s hands. He even bowed before he went to do the task that had been set to him. Glorfindel then went to his bedroom with Lindir in tow. Once inside the door was shut. A part of Figwit wanted to know what they were either doing or talking about. If they were speaking with each other then Figwit had no doubt that it concerned him.

Figwit tried to occupy himself with getting Glorfindel’s clothes put away but it did not take very long. An hour passed by and Glorfindel and Lindir had not yet emerged from the bedroom and Figwit was starting to worry. Evening was approaching and Figwit knew this was about the time that Lindir would be ordering dinner. He wondered if he should do the same. Finally, he rationalized that it was better to do something than nothing at all.

Again, as Lindir had taught him, he summoned one of the kitchen servants and placed the order for his lord’s dinner. The order arrived swiftly and then Figwit set the table. But now came the most daunting task; telling Glorfindel that dinner was served.

His palms began to sweat as he approached Glorfindel’s door. Summoning all of his confidence he announced that dinner was ready.

When the double doors that led to Glorfindel’s room opened and the blond lord emerged looking quite firm, Figwit thought he would faint. But Lindir appeared as well. He was smiling at him and Figwit felt blessedly relieved. Even though he was not positive of what he was supposed to do, he had apparently done something right.

Both he and Lindir sat at the table with their lord and even shared the meal with him. The two of them were even given wine to drink. Lindir was more accustom to wine and Figwit felt embarrassed that his face flushed only after one glass. Glorfindel, however, seemed quite amused.

Besides observing Glorfindel, Figwit also watched Lindir and how he performed in his role as Glorfindel’s slave. It was obvious that Linder was quite confident in his role. Throughout the meal, Lindir was prompt in keeping his master’s wine goblet filled and his plate full. And for his efforts, Lindir was rewarded with a smile from his master; even an affectionate touch.

Figwit found himself envying Lindir. Glorfindel seemed like such a kind master. Lindir, by all appearances, was safe and needed in his place at Glorfindel’s side. Figwit’s heart sank. Would he ever be valued like Lindir?

“Figwit, what is the matter?” Lindir asked. He made to go to Figwit’s side but was stopped by Glorfindel. Lindir never saw the look that passed between servant and master; he only felt the touch of a hand upon his shoulder. When he looked, He saw Glorfindel standing over him, motioning for him to follow.

After the meal, Lindir was left behind to deal with the clean up. Glorfindel motioned for Figwit to follow him into the bedroom. Just before Glorfindel shut the double doors, Figwit took one last look at Lindir, but the white haired elf did not look back. The doors shut and the two of them were alone.

Not unexpectedly, Glorfindel began to examine Figwit by touching his face, running his fingers though his brown hair and taking in every visual detail.

“I must say, Lindir did a remarkable job with you. When you first arrived, I did not think you would survive. I am glad that Lindir was able to bring you back.”

Figwit remained quiet and still. Something about the way Glorfindel spoke and acted made him uneasy.

“Do you like Lindir?” Glorfindel asked bluntly.

Figwit did not know what to say. He had never really examined his personal feelings about Lindir. Also, no one had ever asked before how he felt about another; at least not since his life in slavery had begun.

“You do not have to worry about finding the proper words. Your eyes tell me everything. I know you must like him at least a little, why else would Elladan’s threat to harm Lindir in your stead have prevented you from trying to escape again.

Figwit gasped out loud. So Glorfindel knew he had tried to escape. Sweat began to form on his brow and his breathing sped up just like his heart rate.

Glorfindel’s lips quirked upward. “Lindir keeps nothing from me. His bond to me is strong. But do not worry I have no intentions of inflicting any form of punishment upon him.” Glorfindel used his finger to tip Figwit’s chin up and their eyes met. “Nor do I intend to punish you Figwit.”

“I don’t understand,” Figwit said, finally finding his voice.

“From what Lindir conveyed to me, it would appear that your encounter with Elladan was punishment enough. There is no protection from others for a slave that wanders outside of his or her master’s chambers without the permission of the master.”

“But Lindir had your permission to leave and he was still harmed.”

Just as quickly as Figwit’s outburst had come it went away. Glorfindel watched as Figwit suddenly shrank back down to the timid person he had been before his outburst. He extended his hand to Figwit but the little elf backed away.

“I won’t harm you,” He could see the internal debate as to whether or not he should approach or not. But it soon appeared that Figwit knew better, he understood that his lord was being patient and for a slave, patience was too valuable a gift to waste. He approached and Glorfindel placed his hand, gently, upon his face.

“You really do care about Lindir, don’t you?”

Figwit, leaned into Glorfindel’s touch. “I do, he has been very kind to me and I can understand why he is so loyal to you. You allow him so much.”

“I acquired him long ago. I certainly didn’t need a slave but I am not a fool, unlike his current master at the time. I wasn’t going to let him go to waste.”

Figwit felt even more envious of Lindir. Glorfindel, by all that he had experienced so far, was a good master and had made Lindir into a responsible person capable of so many useful abilities.

“You envy Lindir, and how he lives under me.” Figwit nodded sullenly.

“I knew Anormegil and his sick tastes. I saw the chains he used to bind you and I can only imagine the horrors he must have put you through.”

“He had no other purpose for me.” Figwit had never acknowledged that out loud and doing so shattered whatever self control he had had left. “I wish I could be treated as well as Lindir.”

“But you must remember, you are a slave and as such, your purpose depends on the whims of your master. And if your master is a fool, then you cannot expect more than foolish treatment.”

Glorfindel wiped away Figwit’s tears with his thumb. “But as I have already said, I am no fool and I can already see a far better purpose for. Would you like to stay with Lindir as his helper?”

The question hit Figwit like a blow to the stomach. He wanted to believe it so much but a part of him feared that Glorfindel was only teasing.

“You would like that wouldn’t you, I see it in your eyes,” Glorfindel said in a serious matter. “I am sure that Lindir already explained to you that I would find a new master for you. But perhaps Lindir could use a companion.

“I am away for so long sometimes and Lindir is left alone during those times. And besides,” Glorfindel ran his hand over Figwit’s hair. “You are unique in your own way I suppose. I am willing to test this arrangement, are you?”

Figwit still could not believe the sudden change hi life was taking; he was being given the chance to stay with Lindir. The realization of that filled him with joy, being able to stay with Lindir was the most wonderful thing in the world to him.

. “Yes, I would like to be with him.”

“But there is something else. I will not keep anything in my company that will not serve me in anyway that I demand. Lindir knows and accepts that role. Are you capable of doing the same?”

The familiar anxiety the he used to get before he had to serve Anormegil returned to him. Would Glorfindel ravish him the same as Anormegil? But in the midst of that fear, a vision of Lindir’s smiling face appeared in Figwit’s mind. Figwit tried to imagine how happy Lindir would be when he told him that the two of them would be able to stay together. They could if he could get past this test.

“I will serve you my lord, in anyway ask, I swear.” Figwit spoke as confidently as possible. Glorfindel seemed to accept this, and indicated Figwit to the bed.

Figwit undid the ties of the robes that Lindir had given him and let them float to the floor. He then removed his tunic and finally his leggings. The final touch was loosing his hair and then proceeding to the bed. He stared at the ceiling and listened to the rustling of fabric which told him the Glorfindel was disrobing.

When he felt the mattress sink he knew that Glorfindel had joined him. The blond elf got on top of him but did nothing else. Figwit had braced himself for Glorfindel’s penetration but it never came. He continued to wait for Glorfindel to have his way.

Glorfindel’s suspicions were now confirmed. This slave probably knew nothing about taking an active role in sexual pleasure. But knowing Anormegil as he did, this came as no surprise to Glorfindel. Anormegil demanded nothing less than complete submission from his slaves.

No doubt Figwit was broken down by his captors and force was used to hold his will to resist at bay. Glorfindel had already had a small preview of the fire of freedom that still burned, however faint, within this elf. His escape attempt proved nothing less.

One could subdue a body with force, it was so simple. True submission could not be taken, it had to be given. It was a challenge that Glorfindel fully embraced.

Glorfindel lowered his head and pressed his face to Figwit’s dark hair. He inhaled deeply the scent before softly exploring the soft flesh of the elf’s neck. Glorfindel caused a shiver to run through Figwit’s slender frame.

Figwit did not know what was happening to him. His body began to feel warm and sweat formed on his brow. Most confusing of all was the gathering of sensations in between his legs. He had never been touched this way before. Glorfindel’s touch stimulated yet frightened him at the same time. His heart told him to resist, that pain would come if he did not fight back. But his body responded to the touch. Indeed, he body was practically hungry for it.

Glorfindel’s hands and lips moved about him so gently and his skin became alive. But his heart ached, this gentleness seemed far crueler than anything he had experienced before and Figwit cried.

“What is it?” Glorfindel asked. Figwit’s tears had surprised him. “Am I hurting you?”

“No, you are not.” Figwit’s tears continued.

“Than why are you crying?”

“Please do not play games with me. I know what you want so please, just take it. Do not feign kindness for it is worse than real cruelty.”

Glorfindel’s hands reached out and cupped Figwit’s face but the little elf flinched away. “No, don’t be afraid,” Glorfindel said as reached for Figwit’s face again. “How many times must I tell you that I am not a fool like Anormegil.”

Figwit’s lips were taken by a gentle kiss. Again his heart screamed for him to pull away but another part of him longed to respond.

“Please Figwit, I want you to enjoy this.”

Those words sent Figwit over the edge and he forsook his heart’s warnings. He admitted that he did not know what pleasured him. So Glorfindel implored that Figwit simply entrust his body to him. And thus, Figwit was seduced entirely.

He allowed Glorfindel’s hands to have free reign over his skin and gave into the sensations completely. Figwit eventually found himself sitting up with Glorfindel sucking on one of his nipples. It tickled at first but it was not long before Figwit was combing his fingers through Glorfindel’s blond locks. He was trying to encourage more of these new sensations and Glorfindel obliged.

He found himself growing erect and knew that such a thing was a result of arousal. He had seen it with Anormegil but had never had an erection himself.

He reached down and touched his throbbing member. The flesh was hot and it felt so good to touch him self. He had never done so since self pleasure, in slaves, was seen as an act of autonomy and therefore, was strictly forbidden. But now that he was so aroused, Figwit could not help him self. He ran his fingers up and down the length of his erection. He was so engrossed in stroking him self that when Glorfindel’s hand grasped him, Figwit startled.

But Glorfindel only smiled at Figwit’s sudden apprehension. He delivered and expert stroke to Figwit’s swollen member. Again, Figwit startled. His face blushed fiercely and he was clearly uncertain as to whether he should resist or give in. Glorfindel began to stroke Figwit in a rhythmic way and delighted in having to once again coax him into submission.

But Glorfindel had needs of his own that he would have them sated. Glorfindel enjoyed nothing more than finding his release within the body of another. But it was not going to be easy with this one. But it was that very challenge that he looked forward to most eagerly.

“Do you trust me?” Glorfindel asked silently. “Do you trust me to show you how much pleasure can be given by a good master?”

Figwit was not too intoxicated with pleasure to know what Glorfindel was asking him. The blond lord wished to take him now. Figwit knew that he would have to allow this but he had never known penetration in anything besides the form of rape. But Glorfindel had, so far, had only given him pleasure; perhaps Figwit could indeed trust his body to Glorfindel completely.

Glorfindel did not proceed until Figwit had nodded his consent. When he did, Glorfindel reached over a pulled fourth a phial of oil from beneath one of the pillows. He could tell by the way Figwit looked at the oil that he recognized what it was and furthermore, what the oil was for.

Glorfindel coated a generous amount of oil onto his own engorged member. “Figwit, come here.” Glorfindel spoke softly and motioned Figwit to come to him. Seeing Figwit practically have to crawl over to him was the most erotic sight Glorfindel had ever seen. Mostly it was the mix of submission and resistance. Figwit’s erect member showed that his body wanted the pleasure but the shame and fear of accepting that pleasure swirled in Figwit’s eyes.

“Oh, you have no idea how lovely you are.” Glorfindel said as he pulled Figwit onto his lap.

Figwit was unnerved by Glorfindel’s sudden actions. He could feel the tip of Glorfindel’s hot erection pressing at the entrance to his body. But what caught him more than anything were Glorfindel’s words. Glorfindel said he was lovely, no one had ever told him that before. Those words were enough to distract from the sudden pain of Glorfindel penetrating him at last.

Glorfindel groaned and the sensations were heightened by Figwit’s sudden fit of panic. The little one was crying again and tossed his head from side to side. Glorfindel reached out and pulled Figwit to his chest. He was shaking like a leaf.

“Don’t be afraid.” Glorfindel whispered into Figwit’s ear. “Just give in; it will be good I promise.” Glorfindel moved his hips and pushed into Figwit’s body as gently as he could. Glorfindel really wanted nothing more than to pound into the lithe body that sat in his lap. But he knew that if was to truly gain control over this one, he would have to restrain himself, for now anyway.

The feeling of Glorfindel’s member inside of him was familiar yet different. He felt invaded but craved the comfort that Glorfindel was giving him at the same time. He could feel Glorfindel’s fingers running through his hair and it felt good to be held by him. Furthermore, Glorfindel was not pummeling him. Instead, Glorfindel waited for him to respond.

Bracing himself against Glorfindel’s chest, Figwit raised his body up and then down in response to Glorfindel’s thrust. He went slowly at first but the sound of Glorfindel’s wanton groans encouraged him. There was something else to. When Glorfindel thrust forward he touched something deep inside Figwit’s body.

Figwit’s timid movements became ever more confidant. Whatever it was that Glorfindel was doing to him, he didn’t want it to stop. Eventually the sensations began to form into something else, something even stronger than what he had been feeling up till then.
A tingling sensation began to build in the pit of his stomach and Figwit gave himself over to it entirely. Figwit could hear a cry burst out into the room but he was too disoriented to know that it was him making the noise. His body hummed and he felt as though molten lava were flowing through his veins. It would be several more minutes before he came back to his senses and when he did, he realized that Glorfindel was still holding him. Figwit pitched forward and was enveloped by the arms of his master.

“Are you alright little one?” Glorfindel asked as he relaxed upon the mattress. He enfolded his arms around the shaking form that he held. “You have never experienced pleasure before have you?”

Figwit sighed. He could feel Glorfindel sliding out of him and there was no pain, he had not experienced any real severe pain throughout his coupling with Glorfindel. But there was pleasure and already, Figwit hungered for more.

“No other master will treat you this way. Your service to me does not have to be painful.”

“Do you really mean that?” Figwit’s heart beat with hope for the first time in ages.

“I do, I can give you many great pleasures, but you must stay loyal to me. As long as you serve me and give me no reason to punish you than you needn’t fear being given to another. But only as long as you serve me.”

It was true, a life lived in slavery was all Figwit could expect now. But it did not have to be a life of pain. Not anymore. “I accept you as my master. I will do all that I can to serve you.”


~ ~ ~ ~

That night felt like ancient history to Figwit. He had never thought about it much, or perhaps, he had never allowed himself to think about it. In the beginning, he had told himself that he agreed to Glorfindel’s terms in exchange for being able to stay with Lindir. He still believed that to be true. But now that he had the chance to view his actions in Retrospect, something else came into focus.

That night in Glorfindel’s bed was the first of many and although Glorfindel still had to seduce him into cooperation, Figwit could not deny that he went to Glorfindel’s bed willingly. He now began to wonder if, maybe, he had sold himself to Glorfindel so easily because in the end, he was so hungry for a gentle touch.

Figwit felt disgusted with himself: no, that was not true. He had only wanted to be by Lindir’s side, he cared about Lindir, didn’t he? He had only convinced himself that he enjoyed sharing Glorfindel’s bed. He did not love the Noldor lord. In the end, hadn’t Glorfindel proven to be no better than Anormegil?

Figwit held up his wrist and the slave band came into view. This bracelet proved Glorfindel’s ownership of him. When he had received he had actually been proud but now he felt ashamed. This bracelet spoke of the lies that he had convinced himself to believe.

A sudden rustle of sheets alerted Figwit. It was Lindir. He was still asleep in the bed on the opposite side of the room. He looked peaceful and Figwit had no desire to disturb him. So as quietly as he could, Figwit got out of his bed and headed for the door. He suddenly found the chamber stifling and he wanted to be out.

Figwit wanted so badly to escape his thoughts. The lies he had told himself were coming into focus and the truth was difficult, to say the least, to handle. He had told himself that attaching himself to Glorfindel had made him something better than a slave when he now realized that he was no better than a whore.

But worst of all was that his heart began to question his feelings about Lindir. Figwit did not want to face such thoughts. He did not want to face the possibility that his feelings for Lindir were yet another lie he had convinced himself to believe in order to survive.

TBC in part four: Lindir’s Story