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In Darkness and In Doubt

By: ElvenDemagogue
folder Lord of the Rings Movies › Het - Male/Female
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 7
Views: 7,857
Reviews: 16
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 1
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings book series and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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Part 4


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Thanks
for the reviews, guys!  Sorry I
left you hanging for so long! 
:X  I appreciate the
reviews, so I guess I’d better act like it and post, eh? :)

*

“You are hurting.”style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Legolas made no move to reply, merely lay
on the calm, cool grass beneath the moonlight.  Galadriel smoothed his blond hair back from his sweating
brow, her eyes intent upon his face. 
“Will you refuse me once more, little one?”

The Prince of Mirkwood dared open his
eyes to gaze upon the shadowy form. 
She had removed her cloak and now knelt beside him, clad in dull
white.  Her golden hair tumbled
around her shoulders and her eyes were ever piercing.  During the night she violated him with her darkness, forced
her black mind against his in a contest of wills he knew he must someday
lose.  He could already feel it
happening.  The realization made
his face crumble into hatred. 
“Yes!  I will refuse you
again!” he hissed, his energy quickened by his fury.  “As I ever shall, even until the day I fall dead at your
feet!”

Galadriel laughed, a soft laugh that
was soothing, if not motherly.  He
knew her power had been great long ago. 
She had been counted among the wisest.  But now he saw what that power could become when converted
to terrible purpose.  She was
vicious, lustful of her own ability and far surer of herself than he.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
He closed his eyes as she trailed her
hand down his cheek, then curved up to trace his ear.  “Tell me, who are you, child?”

She knew his name, knew his courage,
but he never answered anything beyond, “I am Legolas, son of Thranduil.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
A Prince of Mirkwood.”

“You are Legolas, Elf of many names,”
she replied, tucking his hair behind his ear.  “Do you know your destiny?”

His jaw tightened.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  “Aye, I know it.”style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Legolas swallowed, looking hazily at
the trees.  “To become weary of
this place and accept the Halls of Mandos.  To be separated from all I love.”

Galadriel did not seem surprised by his
answer, only amused.  He could feel
her searching his memory again, sifting through his thoughts as if they were no
more than sand through her fingers. 
Now and then he caught a glimpse of the other side, of her intentions
and thoughts.  It frightened him,
the power she sought after.  “You
are Legolas, he who will defeat the Kingdom
of Men
.  You will do this for me.”

His sudden laughter was sharp, devoid
of true mirth.  “I will do nothing
for you but die.”

“You will die,” she agreed, sadness
coming over her gaze.  “Naked and
alone.  But not until you have
served me.  I see the words Elrond
has poisoned you with.  Accept
death, for he fears you will grow powerful if you live and serve me.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Elrond is no fool.”

Legolas inhaled deeply, closing his
eyes.  “He would have me die, that
I might not lose myself to your witchery. 
I am not that naïve, Lady Galadriel.”

For a time she said nothing, content to
stroking his forehead and face until he was quite nearly lulled into
sleep.  Then, just on the very
edges of unconsciousness, he heard her whisper, “You are more naïve than you
would suppose.”  He dragged his
eyes open to stare at her through half-lidded curiosity.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“What do you think Elrond says when he
pens a letter to King Aragorn?”

“I will not entertain your musings,”
Legolas replied without hesitation. 
“You seek to poison me with doubts against my ally.”

The wise woman looked down on him
patiently.  “You will learn in time
that all you think you know of your allies and enemies may be false.”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Her fingers toyed with his hair.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  “Until then I will content myself with
gaining your loyalty with fear.”

Legolas narrowed his eyes at her.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  He pulled his hair out of her fingers
and turned away.  Her fingers
traced one of the blade marks down his naked back.  “I fear nothing.”

“Not even the suffering of your Saralonde?”style="mso-spacerun: yes">  The Prince of Mirkwood closed his eyes,
unable to bring voice to his questions, yet curious beyond his reckoning.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  She would sense that, he knew.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  She answered him quickly enough.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  “The longer you remain without power,
the more she will suffer.  She has
been violated physically, but tomorrow that will change.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Tomorrow she will be alone and
vulnerable, her spirits broken after a brutal rape.  Then I will come and show her how to let go of the sorrow
and fear.”

Legolas pulled himself up, gasping as
he came to a sitting position.  His
head spun a moment and he felt her hand on his shoulder, steadying him.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“Do not go to her!style="mso-spacerun: yes">  You will not take her heart as you
fight to take mine!”

Galadriel brushed his hair off his
shoulder, her eyes hungry.  She was
closing in on him, having spotted his weakness.  Licking her lips, she came closer, hissing, “Then give your
allegiance to me!”  Her mind
touched his, urging softly that he obey. 
“Then I will spare her grace from the shadow of my darkness.”

His blue eyes hit the grass, wide and
afraid, hopeless.  He could seize
her right now, wrestle her in his weakness and call down the wrath of Haldir,
who waited to kill him if he posed a threat.  He could escape, but then Saralonde would be lost.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“What must I do?” he asked low, unable
to see anything but dark hair and hazel eyes in his mind’s eye.

“Open yourself to me.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Do not fight when I come into your
mind,” she answered easily, as if it were nothing at all.

“Will you keep her from being harmed?”
was his next question, lower than the last.  He knew what was happening.  He knew the Captain of Lothlórien was hurting her.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“Will you stop Boromir?”

“It is not Boromir that must be
stopped.”  She considered, then
shook her head.  His stomach
muscles clenched when she said, “Law. O i-sul agarwaen he sogatha.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Ha boe.”  He glared, wanting to ask why, but her patience had run
thin.  Galadriel’s voice
hardened.  “Man no lîn amarth?”

“Boe anim nautho,” he replied low,
knitting his brow.

She stood up from him, her chin raised
and her eyes lowered upon him.  He
suddenly felt as weak as a babe under her age-old gaze.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“Avoram no lîn taeg.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Nai lu pedathach lin manadh.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Navaer, Caun o Mirkwood.”

The Shadow stalked past her sneering
hound.  Haldir fixed a firm,
contemptuous gaze on Legolas a moment, most likely considering what would
happen were he to kill the prince and falsely claim he attacked.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Galadriel had warned him the
Marchwarden was a danger, for he did not like the Sindar at all.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Someday he would let his hatred of the
woodland Elves bring him to an act of murder against his queen’s wishes.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Haldir seemed to guess his thoughts,
smiling before he trailed after the Shadow Queen, leaving Legolas alone.

He pulled his manacled ankle, testing
the strength of the steel that bound him. 
There would be no escape for him. 
Gazing at the towering trees, trying to see through their expansive
leaves, he whispered, “Elbereth, Gilthoniel, tegi im na i forn tar.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Im uchened.”

* 

She was alone—a fact she was very
grateful for.  Saralonde lay on her
stomach, naked and sore.  She
considered staying in bed for the breadth of the day, but the idea of seeing
Boromir again sickened her.  The
mere thought of him brought to her feelings of anger and despair.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Seeing him could usher in her own
death, for she knew right now she could not withhold her desire for vengeance.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Even now the thought of Legolas did not
threatening to calm her down.  She
wanted to tell herself it was over, there was no hope and that she may as well
die defending her honor, but for the small voice of reason within.

So Saralonde brought herself up,
stretching tired muscles as she sought for anything to wear.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Upon his dresser she saw several folded
pieces of cloth in a few colors. 
Dresses.  She glared at them
scornfully, but knew there was no way around it.  Selecting one of dark blue, hoping to conceal herself within
the shadows as much as possible, she clothed herself, trying to ignore the
places on her body that ached.

Raking a pretty Elvish brush he had
provided through her hair, she looked at herself quickly, then left the Captain
of Lorien’s rooms, hoping to remain lost for the remainder of the day and the
night, ie coe could help it.  It
was mid-morning and despite herself, she was hungry, but absolutely would not
appear at the King’s table.The denizens of this wretched place had
acclimated themselves to her presense by now, seemingly content to ignore her
save for the occasional sneer or comment. 
She ignored them, thinking instead of Legolas.  He had looked so tired, wearied of this world.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Her thoughts flitted back to what he
had said about Elrond’s prophecy. 
The idea of it being true, becoming the present instead of a looming
future, made her ache inside.

Not long ago they had been happy
together.  They had complained of
the war, but she could recall true joy shared between them, moments stolen in
the dark.  Life had been hard, but
she would give anything to go back to it. 
Now it seemed as far away as goodness to these mortals.

So absorbed was she in her sorrows that
she did not see the little form before her until she bumped into him, sending
the Hobbit off balance.  Pippin,
holding preciously to a tray as he stumbled back, caught an orange as it
started to roll  
“Well, now,”
he sighed, wiping his forehead reflexively.  “There almost went breakfast.  I was on my way to give it to you, you know.”

Saralonde licked her lips, helping him
stabilize the tray.  “Sorry,” she
said low, replacing a fallen apple. 
“Thanks.”

He took the apple and polished it
against his shirt.  “No harm done,
anyway.  Should we go back to your
room?”

That was the last place she wanted to
be and it must have shown on her face, for the Hobbit looked away
uncomfortably.  Exhaling, the Elf
shook her head and looked around. 
“Isn’t there anywhere else I could eat this?  Someplace away from the these other people?”

Pippin regarded her, then
shrugged.  “I could take you to the
glade near where my people live. 
It’s quiet there.”  He
coughed.  “Mostly.”

Pursing her lips, Saralonde nodded and
stood straight, motioning him on. 
“I would like to go there,” she told him, though it was more out of
having a lack of places to go rather than any want to be surrounded by Hobbits.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Anywhere not inhabited by Men or
Daedhil was a haven for her.  “As
long as you won’t get into trouble.”

He shook his head merrily, looking
happy to serve.  It bothered her to
see it almost.  No one good and
innocent should be happy here.  It
was a place of shadow and pain, torment to those that did not obey.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
He was content to obey, she could see
that readily, but she could not apply that to herself.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Such a concept as honor might not be as
strict to the Hobbits, but it was something she could not abandon so
easily.  Not because some foul
human was trying to force it out of her. 
Still, she longed for the semblance of peace she saw in this little
one’s eyes.

The platforms seemed to go on, passing
buildings and curving deep within the trees until they came to a set of stairs
he took her down.  It wasn’t a long
flight, she could see the bottom easily enough.  The forest met them at the foot and without a thought Pippin
led her through a small path in the trees to a clearing where a small pond
was.  “See?” he said proudly,
taking her tray to a small iron table and chair set beside a tall tree.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“All quiet.  May not stay that way all day, mind you, but it is peaceful.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  When no one’s around, that is.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  My cousin’s a trifle noisy when he
wants to be, and annoying.  Well,
I’m sure you’ll understand if he comes by.”

Saralonde sat down and he plopped down
across from her, looking up into her face with a friendly curiousity that made
her smile despite her dark mood. 
Expecting any moment he would turn away, she grabbed the apple he had
brought and took a bite, noticing his eyes follow the motion of her lips.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Chewing uncomfortably, she tried to
look away, but she could feel his eyes on her.  “Are you hungry?” she asked, motioning towards the tray.

“Who?  Me?  No, I
couldn’t…unless…” he gave her a sidelong, guilty look as his hand crept
suspiciously close to a piece of bread.

Saralonde shook her head with a
laugh.  “Take it.”

His eyes widened a moment, then he
smiled in appreciation, saying, “Well, if you insist.  Would be rude not to eat with such a pretty lady as
yourself, wouldn’t it?”  He did not
hesitate to take a bite.

She nodded quite seriously.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  “Unforgivable.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, resting his arm
on the table.  “So, are you one of
those Rivendell Elves? 
They never
tell us Hobbits anything, really. 
We haven’t seen you or the others very much, but we assumed.”

Saralonde swallowed a bite of her
apple, wondering how often this little Halfing had run across Elves from
Rivendell.  By all she knew, the
Noldor should not be welcome here just as her people were not.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“I’ve been to Rivendell,” she answered
vaguely.  “And elsewhere.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Tell me, when was the last time you saw
any of my Rivendell kin?”

He swung his legs, sitting on the
Elf-sized chair, grabbing the cheese he had brought her to a good portion off
for himself.  “Well, let me
think.  It seems it was a month ago
perhaps.  It was Lord
El…El…Elsomethingorother.  Your
leader?”

“Elrond,” she supplied, knitting her
brows.  “What was Lord Elrond here
for?”

If Pippin thought anything of her ignorance,
he didn’t show it.  She shoved the
rest of the cheese in his direction, hoping to keep him talking.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“Oh, he comes every once in a while.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  He always looks sad, too, until he and
that Lady Galadriel get to talking. 
I heard him asking about Lady Arwen once, but King Aragorn told him she
was dead.  I wonder
why…she’s…”  His eyes widened as he
realized his error.  “Please,
Lady…when you return to Rivendell, could you perhaps…not mention I said
that?  I’m not sure why the High
King cares, but he might be… a l a little angry with me if I go and…”

Saralonde waved her hand
dismissively.  “You never really
said exactly what she was, so I have nothing to report,” she told him
gently.  He seemed to relax.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“So Elrond talks to Galadriel?”style="mso-spacerun: yes">  The Hobbit nodded, then said nothing
more.  She finished her apple in
silence, pondering this strange situation.  What would Elrond be doing, coming here?style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Certainly he would look sad if he
thought Arwen were dead, but why would Galadriel comfort him?style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Certainly if things were as peaceful
between the Noldor and the world of Men, Elrond would have begun talks
concerning peace with Mirkwood.  A
sudden sick feeling began in the pit of her stomach, causing her to discard the
rest of her fruit.

Pippin polished off her orange and made
ready to speak when a rustling came from nearby.  They both looked up and saw a shadow looming on the edge of
the glade.  In the dim lighting Saralonde
could not make out a face, but she could tell by the form it was female.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
A chill swept through her as she
imagined those cold blue eyes of the Lady of Shadow.  “You spoke of my father?”  The voice was a whisper, barely heard and broken.

Immediately the Hobbit was off his
chair, bowing to the Elf that had come into their presense.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“Princess Arwen,” he greeted, bounding
to her side.  Saralonde watched a
gloved hand reach out to take hold of Pippin’s.  “Come and sit. 
I’ll go and get you some tea.”

Arwen claimed the seat across from Saralonde,
her face hidden behind a scarf over her nose and mouth.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Her blue eyes were dull as they gazed
her over.  “What of my father?”

Tucking her hair behind her ear,
shifting uncomfortably, Saralonde searched herself for the correct
response.  “The Hobbit only
mentioned that he comes here.  He
did not say why.”

A swell of pity surged through Saralonde.style="mso-srun:run: yes">  Impulsively, she reached for Arwen’s
scarf, but the Elf pulled away quickly. 
“Are you all right, Lady Arwen?”

The princess hesitated, then whispered
automatically, “I am well.”

Saralonde shook her head, not buying
it.  “Are you a prisoner here?style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
What has Aragorn done to you?”

“Aragorn is a good husband,” Arwen replied,
though there was no conviction in her voice.  She looked around the glade, then leaned forward, lowering
her already very soft voice. 
“Please, you mustn’t say such things of the High King.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
He is…dangerous.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Do not call his attention to yourself.”

She didn’t know what to say.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Clearly Arwen was under oppression here
and had not been driven to total acceptance, but she had no hope in her
eyes.  Saralonde wanted to ask her
why she was wrapped up, why she whispered and what had been done, but her lips
remained sealed as she watched the princess struggle with her fear.s="m="mso-spacerun: yes">  “What can I do?” she said softly, more
to herself than expecting any answer.

“Nothing,” Arwen replied, turning as
Pippin came into the glade with a tea tray.  As soon as he set it down, the Noldor took a cup and began
silently back towards the forest, not bothering to say a farewell or
anything.  Suddenly Saralonde felt
that much more desperate to be out of here.

“What’s wrong with her?” she asked the
Hobbit, who watched sadly.

Pippin seemed a little hesitant to say,
but her pleading look won him over. 
“He cursed her with his darkness. 
Sunlight and starlight burn her now.”

The Hobbit shrugged unhappily.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  “A beating, we think.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Look,R’t tell thng ong or anyone
else I told you.  Yon>You understand,
right?”  She nodded silently.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Pippin sullenly began clearing things
off the table.  “You’re welcome to
stay here for as long as you like. 
I live down that way,” he poi to to a path.  “Right now I should head off for a bit.”

He was quick to leave, likely unnerved
by all that had transpired.  She
was unnerved herself.  For a time
she merely remained where she was, pondering what to do next.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Looking at the stairs did not stir her
to move towards that direction. 
She had no desire to run into anyone or be scoffed at right now.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Then her eyes went to where Arwen had
disappeared and she wondered if the Lady came here on walks.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Though she balked at the idea of doing
anything that identified her with the desperate state Arwen was in, the trees
seemed a more relaxing solution thanurniurning to the populated platforms.

Pushing back her chair, Saralonde got
up and headed towards the dim woods. 
She could see no clear path Arwen may have taken, no stirred leaves or
footprints.  It was dark here and
lonesome, but that suited her just fine for the time being.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
There was a kind of peace here in the
quiet.

Looking above she saw one of the
platforms suspended and moved away from it, losing herself in the depths of the
woods.  Yet even here in the
darkness, alone and relatively at peace she could not pretend the Golden Wood
was anything but what it truly was. 
Nature around her wept with the evil spreading throughout the Elven
world.  The trees no longer
whispered of things that were pure and lovely, but of death and the coming
massacre that would occur between the two worlds.

<'>Saralonde looked to the dirt beneath
her feet as she wandered, wondering what use there was.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
She thought of the Grey Havens and what
they could escape to if only.  If
only.  Time passed quickly as she
searched herself for answers, only to come back with none.

“Well, look at this.”style="mso-spacerun: yes">  She at first questioned whether or not
she had even really heard the voice, so still was the woods after it had halted
her in her tracks.  Saralonde
looked around her, then realized she had heard it.  A form came towards her and she found her hands curling into
balls.  It was Faramir.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 

“What do you want?” she asked as
neutrally as she could, uncertain what he meant to say or do.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
The sparkling in his dark eyes troubled
her.

Faramir came before hed shd she took a
step back.  “Will you not even talk
with me?”

Saralonde looked around him, wondering
what he would do should she choose to walk away.  “What do we have to talk about?” she asked him cy.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Deciding to chance it, she moved to
pass him.

His hand curled around her arm and she
stopped, feeling herself go cold. 
Not now.  She could handle
this anytime but now.  Faramir
eased her back to face him.  “I
want to talk about you,” he replied, but the darkness behind his tone betrayed
no innocence in his curiosity. 
“Tell me how your stay has been.”

“Why are you here in the woods?” she
asked, bringing her dark eyes up to his. 
She looked for him to answer that he had been walking or to ask her the
same thing.

He did neither of those, squeezing her
arm and running his eyes down the length of her.  “You like to get to the point, hmm?style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Good girl.  I was following you.”

Saralonde jerked her arm, but he held on
too tight.  “Why?”

Faramir smirked, running his free hand
along her cheek.  “Now why do you
suppose?”  His hand dropped to her
shoulder, jerking her into him. 
She tense he he traced his tongue along her ear, then said, “Here’s a
hint.  It was not for conversation.”

“Boromir will be angry,” she warned,
steeling herself for a fight.

He laughed and smoothed her dress down
her shoulder.  “Do you wish to make
this easy or difficult?”  His hand
pushed down into the fabric, rubbing along her arm.

Saralonde threw all her strength into
pulling away, then took off as fast as she could into the darkness of the
woods.  Her adrenaline raced, her
heart pounded as she searched for a set of stairs, any means of escaping him.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
She could hear him clearly, bounding
through the woods after her, laughing.

She was quick, but he was quicker.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  When he crashed into her body, they
both fell to the earthen floor and rolled a few times.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  “So, you wish to make it hard on yourself?”
he growled, jerking her into his grasp. 
Saralonde fought hard, not caring what else happened.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Somewhere inside she hoped this would
be it, that he would get too angry and end this suffering for her.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  “You have a distinct lack of respect,
Elf.  I am not my brother,
however.  I do not give a damn if
it hurts or if you die after.”

He shoved her into the dirt on her
back, forcing himself over her, grabbing for her wrists.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Saralonde punched and kicked, but he
was determined.  So she
screamed.  She could not be made a
whore to these people.  She could not
live with that.  When she yelled,
he hit her without restraint and everything went black for a moment.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  He gripped her dress and jerked her up,
then shoved her har hard, then backhanded her again.  “You’re a little tough girl, aren’t you?style="mso-spacerun:">&">  You like fighting?”

Regaining her composure, pushing past
the pain, Saralonde shoved at him hard and he fell back slightly.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“I like remaining untouched by animals
like you!”

12.0pt;font-family:"Palatino Linotype"'>Faramir laughed, then gripped her wrist
and squeezed hard.  “Well, I happen
to enjoy fucking girls that don’t want it so that they understand what they
are.”  Watching her face, he
twisted her arm quick and she couldn’t help but scream and claw at his pants
with her other hand.  “Does that
hurt, you little slut?  I’ll make
it so painful you’ll love when it is only Boromir fucking you.”

“Stop this!” she yelled, sending his
fist into his unguarded stomach. 
It got him to stop, but when he released her nearly numb arm she knew it
would only get worse.  Fear surged through
her at his angry eyes as she realized this very well could be it.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
He was uncaring enough to kill her, she
had no doubt, Boromir’s wishes be damned. 
He was going to get what he was after and would hurt her in the process.

He sent his fist into her lip and she
tasted blood.  Her eyes fluttered
shut as the pain took over her senses. 
Faramir hit her again a few times, then stopped a moment as her head
spun.  “I had these made for a girl
back in Rohan.  Got them out for
you, love.  Feel special?”

She heard something push into the dirt
above her on either side, then she moaned as he jerked the arm he had twisted
up, throwing it back to the ground. 
A wire cord was placed around her wrist, then tightened.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
He was tying her down with stakes in
the ground, she realized in horror as he brought the other one up.<
st
style="mso-spacerun: yes">  She pulled against the wire and
whimpered when it pressed into her flesh without any slack.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  “It’s going to cut my wrists,” she
said, knowing he would probably be violent.

“What do I care?” was his reply, cold
and unfeeling.  Faramir got off
her, gripping her dress and ripping it down the center, shoving the fabric open
until she was bare.  Then he stood
and paced above her a moment, watching her fight against her bonds.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Saralonde jerked hard when his foot
crashed into her hip, bruising it. 
Her wrists were rubbed raw against the wires holding her down.

Faramir sneered at her, undoing his
belt and opening his pants.  “You
know what I care about?  Hmm?”style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
He knelt down, running his hand up her
thigh.  “I care about getting what
I want.  That is all.”style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Digging his nails into her skin, he
jerked her legs apart and moved between them.  Her thigh burned from the scratches.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  When he lowered himself down, he gave a
quick, hard shove that made her squirm against the pain of her unready body
being used that way.  The wires dug
into her wrists as she writhed and whimpered.

He groaned his pleasure at her
movements as he began a rapid, hard rhythm that burned until she was sure blood
made his passage easier.  She felt nauseated
and tears burned her vision.  She
stopped fightit cot completely, praying for the end to come swiftly.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
In this state she could not even bring
herself to think of Legolas or draw hope from the prospect of seeing him again.

“That’s right, lady, you just
relax.  It will over soon,” he
soothed, brushing his hand down from her face into her hair.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
He gripped her head and forced her to
lie still beneath an invasive kiss, his mouth plunging into hers, demanding
entrance.  His tongue smoothed
across hers hungrily as he rocked hard into her hips, groaning with
satisfaction.

She moaned in pain, shivering hard
beneath him, her body so tense she feared letting go.  In response, mistaking her noises for pleasure, he
instinctively grasped her breast, rubbing up, then pinching her upraised
center.  She flinched away from the
touch and he grew more insistent, pinching harder.

“Such soft skin,” he murmured, moving
his lips from her mouth to her ear, biting at her earlobe.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
He panted in her ear and the sound was
nse,nse, filling her with the sound of it.  He felt so heavy against her, so imposing a presense as he
pleasured himself without regard. 
Each hard thrust jerked her wrists, cutting her flesh and pulling the
arm he had injured.  She yelled out
several times, but he paid no mind as he assaulted her.

He was coming close, she could
sense.  He started losing control
of his voicings, moving erratically until with a final jerk, he fell on
her.  For long moments Saralonde
simply lay there, catching her breath, trying to discern between the fact that
he was motionless and the throbbing. 
His hand came against her hip, petting softly as he whispered, “Good
girl.”

Saralonde closed her eyes, feeling him
rip the stakes from the ground. 
She couldn’t even move her arms for fear of the pain movement would
cause.  “Get up,” he breathed,
pulling himself from her body.  The
thought of getting up was unthinkable. 
He grunted and grabbed her arms, yanking at her. “Back to being a
defiant little bitch, I see.”

He pulled her to her feet and she fell
against him, hurting from the violence he had done upon her.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Faramir shoved her away, letting her
fall to the earth before giving her a warning look.  On shaky legs she fought her way to her feet, trying to
remain strong and not give in to her despair.  But>But it was fast bearing down on her.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  If he held a knife to her throat she
would not fight death.

Faramir jerked her dress shut, then
drew his hood, taking her arm and pulling her along.  “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice hoarse from her
screams.

“To Boromir’s.”style="mso-spacerun: yes">  His voice was unreadable.

She wondered what would happen
then.  Would Boromir be there?style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Would he be angry with his
brother?  She privately hoped he
would be infuriated, but what if he took it out on her?style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Faramir led her through the forest a
long way until they came to a stair, which he forced her up.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Each step caused her pain, but she bore
it silently, unwilling to ever let him force her voice again.

As it was, the stairs were not far from
Boromir’s apartment.  Faramir
entered without knocking, dragging her along.  Once de hde he called, “Boromir?”  There was no reply. 
Her heart sank as the younger of the two jerked her towards the
bedroom.  If he raped her again…

They passed the bed and went for the
bathroom, where closed the door. 
Taking down his hood, he looked her over.  “Need me to take your dress off for you?”

“Please don’t do this again,” she said
in a low, hard tone, not looking up into his face.  She waited for him to hit her.

He did and she stumbled back.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Taking advantage of her, he grabbed the
garment and forced it down her shoulders, then balled it up, tossing it to the
floor.  Retreating to a nearby
towel rack, he pulled a dark blue cloth from the folded pile and dipped it in a
bowl of fresh water at the sink. 
Then he threw it at her, crossing his arms as she whimpered when she
jerked her sore arm to catch it. 
“Wash up.”

Saralonde looked at him a moment, then
turned away, rubbing the rag along her bleeding lip.  It was pleasantly silent as she cleansed herself of the
blood and sweat, the evidence of his climax.yes"> 
He said nothing at all, but she knew he was watching.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  She heard several intakes of air, as if
he were enjoying this.  When she
tossed the rag to the floor, he drained the sink and picked it and the dress
up.  Taking her hand, he pulled her
back into the bedroom and picked up one of her dresses off the dresser.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  “Put it on,” he ordered, watching her.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  “This time face me while you do it.”

Eager to hide herself from his vision,
she did as she was told.  He looked
her over appraisingly, the gripped her shoulder, pulling her close.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
“Fix your hair, love.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  Then when that beast of a brother of
mine returns, you make sure you keep your mouth shut or I won’t be the last to
fuck you like that.”  He squeezed
her hard.  “You understand me,
whore?  Don’t say a word and if he
asks what happened to you, you’re gonna be a good girl and lie to him, won’t
you?”

“Why should I lie for you?” she hissed,
her brow knit.

He backhanded her, but held her up from
the fall.  “Because if he finds out
it was me, I swear you will wish you had just lived with it.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
Remember, love, all it takes is a
momelonelone and I can take you to a whole garrison of soldiers that haven’t
had the pleasure of a lady’s company in weeks.  Understand?” 
When she refused to reply he hit her again.  Understand?

Wanting him away, Saralonde nodded and
breathed a sigh of relief when he let her go.  He looked her over, then departed, leaving her alone with
the knowleof wof what had just taken place.  When she heard the door shut, she sank to the floor and
buried her face in her hands.  Her
shoulders shook as she wept hard, lamenting the abuse, the life that had been
ripped away from she and Legolas. 
She cried because she knew Boromir would come and further her shame, because
she knew Legolas would die here away from his homeland.

An hour passed before she fell asleep
there on the floor.

*

Law.
O i-sul agarwaen he sogatha.  Ha
boe.  Man în aîn amarth? – No.style="mso-spacerun: yes"> 
From the goblet bloodstained she will
drink.  It must be.style="mso-spacerun: yes">  What is your choice (doom)?

Boe anim nautho. – I must consider. 
Lit.  It is necessary for me
to think.

Avoram no lîn taeg.&; Nai lu
pedathach lîn manadh.  Navaer, Caun
o Miod. od. – Sun up is your limit. 
Then (at-the time) you will speak your fate.  Farewell, Prince of Mirkwood.

Elbereth, Gilthoniel, tegi nin na i forn tar.  Im uchened. – Elbereth, star-kindler, lead me to the right
path.  I’m lost (without-sight).

Daedhil – Shadow Elves. (dae + edhel)

 

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