Tears of the Valar.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.
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Orophin was covered by an Elven cloak to keep the stares at a minimum as they entered the city of Fwaban. The air was heavy with something he could not at first identify then realized it was what it felt like to live in a city ruled by fear. He could not imagine how these people could dwell in such circumstances; the Golden Wood and its city of Caras Galadhon had been full of light and serenity; but then, the Lord and Lady had been benevolent and protective of their people and no evil came to their land. Here, however, Lastharos ruled and he was the antithesis of Celeborn and Galadriel.

“The palace is in the center of the city,” Dehlina murmured to her companions. “It will not be difficult to find, but will be extremely difficult to enter. Lastharos trusts no one.”

“I believe we will be able to do so without much difficulty,” Naveradir answered as they approached another set of gates set into an imposing wall, this one also gleaming in the sunlight. Guards stood on either side and atop the walls and when the trio approached along with Kidur, they were, as expected, challenged.

“Who is it that comes to the palace of Lastharos?” the captain of the guard asked, stepping in front of them with his sword drawn.

“Lord Naveradir of Rhun. I travel with my wife and our slave and wish to speak with your lord. We have heard of his … special wisdom and seek his counsel.”

Orophin had to admit Naveradir could be intimidating when he chose. His voice was cold and authoritarian, something these men would respond to. They were nothing more than slaves themselves to their mad master’s whims.

“The Light of the East has no dealings with Rhun,” the captain responded. “You have no business here.”

“Indeed, I believe he will wish to see us. We have something he seeks; we know things he wishes to know, some matter about a prophecy …?”

The captain hesitated only a moment then nodded and ordered them to dismount so they could be searched for weapons. They acquiesced and Dehlina bit back an angry retort as the men’s hands caressed her body in a distinctly familiar manner. When they searched Orophin, however, the men had quite a shock.

“What is this?” the captain asked, staring at the silvery blonde hair and the smooth muscled body of the Elf.

“My slave, and one I believe your lord will wish to meet,” Naveradir answered with a smile, his hand moving over Orophin’s chest lightly, caressingly. The Lorien warden did not move and his expression remained impassive though he was glad his brothers could not see him at the moment; they would never allow him to live down being Naveradir’s ‘toy’.

“Take them to the audience chamber and send word to the Ruler that he has visitors from the west … with an Elf,” the captain told two of his men who rushed to do his bidding. An Elf. None had thought it true that Lastharos had actually encountered one, yet here was proof that they did indeed exist.


Lastharos was in his bath when word came that visitors from Rhun had brought an Elf to his palace. He pushed the slave who was washing him away and sat up.

“An Elf? Here? What does he look like?” He stood and his slaves rushed to dry him off as he stepped from the large bathing pool.

“He has hair of silver and gold and is quite fair. His eyes are azure and his ears are pointed.” The guard did not know what the Ruler wished to know and so he simply waited for further instructions.

“Where are they now?” he asked, lacing his leggings and pulling on his boots. He slipped his arms into a tunic held by a slave while two others fastened his boots.

“The audience chamber, O Mighty One,” the guard responded.

Lastharos nodded. “Very well. Go.” The guard bowed and departed as Lastharos picked up the leash and pulled Sui to her feet. “It appears we have guests,” he told the woman who simply bowed her head and followed as he strode from the room. He knew she hated to be paraded in front of others, especially now; but he did not care---he enjoyed her humiliation.


The chamber where Naveradir, Dehlina and Orophin were ushered was large and there were guards at intervals along the walls and in the balconies above. The ones above them had bows in hand and when the doors opened on one side of the room, their arrows were immediately nocked and aimed at the visitors.

The man who entered could only be Lastharos. His black hair was like a silken cloud behind him and his face and body were as beautiful as any ellon’s. A woman followed behind him, a leather studded harness and collar on her body and a leash held by the Butcher of Khand. Even without Elven sight signs of her abuse were apparent. There were multiple cuts all over her body, some healing, some raw, where she had obviously been cut with a lash. She did not look up at them and kept her gaze fixed on the floor even as Lastharos slung her to the marble next to his dais and dropped the leash. Walking over to the trio he stared at Orophin in frank appraisal.

“Where did you get him?” he asked Naveradir without preamble.

“I took him when he strayed into my realm,” the Rhunian Elf replied in an icy tone.

Lastharos walked around Orophin, pulling the cloak from his body and running his hands over the smooth, pure flesh.

“Magnificent,” he murmured as his fingertips brushed over the solid muscles of the Lorien Elf’s shoulders and chest. He paused to roll one of the ellon’s nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it, noting with satisfaction the Elf did not flinch. Stepping back he looked at Naveradir for the first time since entering the room.

“What do you want for him?”

“He is not for sale. He is my slave and a particular favorite of my wife,” he added, nodding toward Dehlina who stood quietly beside Naveradir. “I know, however, how to find more of them.” This last was said in a confidential voice and had the desired effect; Lastharos looked at him sharply.

“Where?”

“Rhun. There are many of his kind who stray into my lands. If you would like, I will send you one or two. Perhaps you can breed them. They live forever so you would always have at least one.”

Lastharos stepped up to his dais and a slave immediately brought him wine. He took a goblet and gestured for chairs to be brought for his guests. When they were seated and had been served, he took a sip.

“I have heard they cannot be forced to join or they will die.” He noted how the Elf stood behind the wife of this Rhunian in perfect silence, not moving unless his master or mistress told him to.

“That is true,” Naveradir replied, then with a knowing smile added, “So one must make them join by choice.”

“Indeed? And how is such accomplished?” Lastharos found this Rhunian lord interesting.

“They have the same yearnings as we do; they simply do not let them free. Give them a taste, however, and they will gladly drink from the fountain of lust. This one took a liking to my wife so I kept him for her pleasure.”

“He is a bed slave?” Lastharos smiled at the thought.

Naveradir inclined his head in agreement. “And quite talented, I will say.”

Orophin silently promised himself he would force Naveradir and Dehlina to swear they would never tell anyone what was happening in Lastharos’ palace; especially Haldir and Rumil.

“I would prefer to judge that on my own,” Lastharos replied with an unmistakable light in his eye.

Naveradir smiled. “Alas, he is bound to serve only my wife; that is the unfortunate thing about Elves: they can be enslaved, but only to one master or mistress. He serves me because I am her husband; anyone outside may not join with him or he will fade and die as these creatures are wont to do.”

Lastharos frowned. “So what good would it do to capture one and send it to me? Or two for that matter?”

“You would make them your own slaves and they would be bound to serve you. If you train them to enjoy the pleasures of many, then they will do so. It is all in what they call binding.”

“And you know how to do this?” Lastharos was skeptical but the prospect of having his own Elves …

“Yes. You could breed them with slaves to provide half-Elven offspring who would have most of the traits of their Firstborn parents. It all depends on how you mold your slaves to suit your will.”

Lastharos was silent as he studied the Elf. This one resembled the one he had so enjoyed in Mordor. What was his name? Ah yes, Legolas. Some sort of Elven prince. This one was just as desirable and Lastharos felt himself growing aroused. He called for a slave to show their guests to their chamber, specifically naming one that had various viewpoints all around so he could watch them in secret.

“Enjoy the hospitality of my palace,” he told them as he stood. “I am certain we will be able to come to terms.”

Naveradir inclined his head in agreement then followed the slave from the chamber, Dehlina and Orophin close behind.


“Thank the Valar that is over,” Orophin murmured almost silently to his companions after the door to their chamber was closed.

Naveradir immediately surveyed the room, examining the walls and ceilings closely then turned to the others.

“I do not believe it is,” he mouthed silently as he walked back over to where they stood and pulled Dehlina’s veil from her headband and drew her into an embrace. Bringing his lips to hers, he whispered to them, “We will be watched constantly in here.”

Dehlina wrapped her arms around her ‘husband’, returning his embrace. “So we must continue the charade?”

Orophin inclined his head in acknowledgement then pulled off the cloak he had replaced and knelt next to Kidur, stroking the dog’s back and flanks. He assumed an attitude of quiet contemplation while his mind turned over possibilities of where they could go to speak freely as Dehlina and Naveradir parted and the female walked onto the balcony to ostensibly admire the view.

Naveradir searched the cabinets and chests and then smiled as he opened a desk drawer. Parchment, ink and a quill were inside and he sat down and began to write. When Dehlina wandered back over to the desk, she saw he was writing in Quenya, a language none in Khand would know.

“Come,” she ordered Orophin and he rose and walked over to her. She ran her hands over his body while he read Naveradir’s message. It was written in an elegant style that would look like simple drawings to any who did not understand the language. The words, however, were not so innocent.

‘We must draw him in; let him think he can enjoy Orophin’s touch and it will give us a chance to end his life. We must do it away from his guards.’

“Are you certain these are the slaves you believe might be suitable for the Khandun?” Dehlina asked aloud as she and Orophin continued their intimate caresses.

“It is a preliminary list,” Naveradir replied. “What is your opinion, Orophin? Would these be malleable to his needs?”

“Aye, my lord,” Orophin answered, not pausing as he kissed the woman’s throat, his arms drawing her closer against his body while his hands slipped inside of her robe to expose her creamy shoulders and bosom. He hoped whoever was watching was taking note of how delectable the female was. The more they piqued Lastharos’ lust, the more vulnerable he would become.

In one of the secret viewing spots, Lastharos watched with interest as the Elf and the woman began fondling one another. Her dark, honeyed skin against his fair body provided a lovely contrast and he felt himself growing aroused simply imagining them together. He stepped closer looking to see what the woman’s husband was doing. The Rhunian seemed almost oblivious to his wife and her slave.

Naveradir could sense eyes on them and the presence of Lastharos. He had taken note of the man’s aura in the audience chamber and now could feel it surrounding them.

‘He watches,’ he wrote on the paper and Orophin and Dehlina acknowledged his words with their eyes.

In response, Dehlina cupped Orophin’s face between her hands and kissed him deeply, passionately and gave a sigh of arousal. She met Orophin’s gaze and sent a silent message which he acknowledged by scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the bed.