Where The Shadows Lie

Rivendell is light. It is a place of learning and of splendor. The trees sing songs to the winds. There is no darkness there...

That was what her father had said. Alisceon could recall vividly his eyes softening as he spoke in remembrance of his long lost home. Rohan was no longer a place of happiness for him, but of grief and woe. So he had left her with those words, telling her never to forget from where she had come. In her anger at losing him to the call of the Sea, Alisceon had forgotten until this day.

Rivendell was gray. It was a place of despair and of spite. The trees moaned and the winds screamed. The light had been put out. That was her first impression as they road through the gates. Riding in front of Haldir Alisceon looked up the yard of Rivendell at the tall structure ahead. It was a beautiful home with intricate design that made the Golden Hall seem dark and plain. But it had no warmth. The spirit of the place had died.

It was quiet here as if the city were grieving, the morning dull and colorless from a fresh rain that had passed. It was still like the dead. Aragorn’s expression was dark and uncertain; Boromir’s disdainful. Apparently their captors were not the only things to have changed.

They rode on up to the mansionary, then were forced from their mounts, which were handed off to Elves that approached from the side. Haldir was not gentle in handing her down, nor was he discreet in his touch. None of the new Elves seemed to be aghast by his rough behavior, which did not bode well for the weary mortals.

Aragorn was taken first, led by Elladan to the main entrance. The others were forced along directly and once inside the doors, Alisceon noted that she felt no more warmthn whn when she had been out. A young-faced Elf approached and bowed, then looked over the company. His eyes darkened when they landed on the King of Gondor. “You will wish to see Lord Elrond, Prince Elladan?” he asked in a musical voice.

Elladan nodded quickly. “Yes, if you would see us to him, Figwit. Where is he?”

Pursing his lips, Figwit bowed his head again curtly. “He is in his personal study, my lord. I will take you to him.”

Alisceon exchanged glances with Éowyn, but neither dared speak a word. The Elves directed the group of travelers on down the main hall. The furnishings within this place were timeless pieces, ancient woven tapestries and antique architecture that took the breath away, but it was marred here. Alisceon saw that the harmony had been corrupted here—a large plant lay on the f, ov, overturned from its pot, a vase was broken and a chair smashed; its pieces left on the floor as if no one cared to clean it up. King Aragorn noticed this as well and his expression became worried.

Without turning Elladan replied to their wonderings as if he knew what they had been thinking. “That is the tribute to my father’s grief. He did that the night Arwen came home. No one has touched it or will touch it.”

“It is not like him to lose himself so thoroughly to grief,” Aragorn breathed, walking beyond a tapestry that had been ripped down and left on the floor.

The Elf Prince stopped and turned around. “He never lost a child before.” His tone was filled with undeniable hatred.

Unnerved by the terrible weight over this place, Alisceon kept toselfself and took up beside Éowyn as they were led up a flight of stairs to a lavishly carved door. Figwit stopped there and opened, entering with annoannouncement. “Lord Elrond, one of your sons has returned home. He has…guests.”

They were ushered in, each Elven guard poised with daggers drawn in case any of the mortals deemed it fit to do their lord harm. Crossing her arms, Alisceon looked towards the window where a shadow stood, clad in deepest blue robes, his raven hair unadorned. He turned without joy and when his gray eyes beheld the King, they hardened. “Berthich tolo si an maetho rûth nîn, gwarth?” (You dare to come here to challenge my wrath, betrayer?)

Whatever was said, Aragorn’s expression became pained as he answered low, “Gwarth? Cenich ha sui thenid?” (Betrayer? You believe that?)

The Lord of Rivendell nodded slowly to the words, no mercy in his eyes. Taking a breath, he looked over the party, peering into the faces of each individual as if he would see into their souls. “I foresaw your coming, but I did not think you would be so foolish as to bring others. The Aragorn I knew did not drag innocents willingly into death.”

“Is that what we face here, Elrond? Death?”

They waited for the response in tense silence. This Elf was different than the others. His countenance was that of the wise, powerful, but not without a thread of darkness. He brought his hands up, toying with a ring on his finger. “The fate of your companions has yet to be decided.” His gaze became distant, as if he were seeing something else. “Yours, however, should be quite apparent.”

Aragorn dared to take a step forward and was met with daggers to his throat. He stopped. “Elrond, what has happened to you?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “Rivendell was a place of light and now I return to find it dying. I find you dying before my eyes.”

The Elf Lord snapped out of his silent reverie, looking up with bitter hatred. “What is death to you, Aragorn? We all die, be it in body or spirit.”

At this Boromir spoke, surprising both Aragorn and Elrond. He grunted, ignoring the blades that were trained upon him with a few steps towards the desk. “And what would your Lady of Light say to that, I wond

That little remark drew the attention of Haldir, who shoved Boromir chest-first against Elrond’s desk in his anger. He shoved the blade down against the back of the Steward’s neck and hissed, “You will not speak of her, mortal! Let me kill him, my Lord. He has vexed me before.”

Boromir shoved himself up and pushed the Elf away, but before Haldir could respond in kind, Elrond waved his hand. “Their fates have not been decided, Marchwarden. You will wait until I command you.” A firm glare convinced the Elf to stand down, though he did so grudgingly. Elrond put a hand to his brow and rubbed, then looked up tiredly. “Take the others. Give them rooms. I will allow you to walk freely here so long as you keep the peace. Know this. If you attempt escape, you will perish.” Hard as steel, his eyes slid to Aragorn. “You will remain.”

“And do you think I will be led away that you may kill my King?” Boromir hissed, not afraid of Elrond’s power. Alisceon wondered what he was afraid of.

The Elf Lord smiled mirthlessly. “Do you think I need to send you away to kill him?”

They exchanged no moordsords, the Elves shoving each mortal from the room. The last thing Alisceon heard was Aragorn’s soft-spoken voice. “Where is Legolas?”

*

The flowers were dying. As the dusk fell upon the gardens it seemed the jasmine was reluctant to bloom. The ground was shrouded in a fine mist that haunted the footsteps of the two wandering the grounds. Neither Éowyn nor Alisceon saw any of the guardians that would keep them here in Rivendell, but they did not doubt they were being watched as they sat down on a bench together near the home.

“This place is cold,” Éowyn remarked, her blue eyes traveling across the landscape. “These people…they are lost.”

Alisceon bit her lip, leaning her palms against the seat and kicking her legs. A question had been on her mind since the beginning of all this. “You spoke with that Elf that came with Aragorn a year ago. Was he like this?”

The blond shook her head, fixing the folds of her dress. “No, he was not. Aragorn seems very worried. I think something has happened here, though what I cannot say. They are not what you expected, are they?”

“No.” Her reply was quiet. She wasn’t sure why she cared, but it did bother her to see them like this. What would her father have said? Could he see this from Valinor? “My father used to tell me about this place. About Elrond. But my opinion of Elves was ever colored by those around me. He left me before I was even as tall as his shoulders.”

Éowyn pulled her close, offering her support. “This must be terrible for you.”

But Alisceon denied comfort, crossing her arms and glaring at the stones beneath her feet. “This was never my home.”

Her cousin gave her a wry look, opening her lips to say something in retort, but footsteps halted her from speech. They came from deeper within the gardens and both turned their heads towards the sound. The starlight seemed to sparkle in his eyes and cause his golden hair to shine in the darkness as he came out of the shadows and into their view. Alisceon recognized his face, but it was Éowyn that greeted him. “Master Elf, I did not expect to see you here.”

He bowed his head in greeting, a soft smile playing across his features. There was mischief in his eyes. “I have a name, you know,” he said a little contritely, sliding his eyes to Alisceon. He did not have the same countenance as he had a year ago. “You I have not seen, but I recognize you as an Elf. Pedo le i lam o Edhil?” (Speak you the language of Elves?) His amusement increased when she could not answer him. “What a shame. Do you not even have a gentle name?”

Alisceon’s brows narrowed. “I have an Elven name, if that’s what you mean.”

The Elf laughed and licked his lips. “Then what is it?”

Exchanging glances with her cousin, she decided to humor him. Their surroundings were precarious at best and there was no reason to stir up trouble right now. “Niriel.”

“Niriel,” he whispered as if tasting the word. “Ah, that is a pretty name, Niriel. A pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Not liking this apparent change, Éowyn urged Alisceon to her feet, saying, “Come. We will be missed.”

But Legolas seemed unwilling to allow it. Grinning, he cut Alisceon off, ignoring the human all together. When he cut her off again for trying to bypass him, she looked up into his eyes. They were intensely interested, seeing nothing but her. The darkness around him chilled her. “What do you want?” she demanded, wishing for all things, Boromir’s presense.

His eyes went very soft as he reached for her cheek, stroking his thumb gently across her skin. “Aniron an heltho le hell a lasto sui canich ir naston anim nedh lîn rhaw ad a ad.” (I wish to strip you naked and listen as you scream while I thrust myself into your flesh again and again.)

Alisceon pushed his hand away. “Speak words I understand.”

Again the Elf laughed at her in amusement, slowly backing her away from Éowyn. He reached for her hair and she dodged, but that did nothing to dissuade him from his pursuit. “Words you understand?” he repeated, darting past her blocking hands to shove her shoulder a little, smiling when she stumbled back. He did it again, his eyes never leaving hers. “Words like fear? Pain?”

“Legolas, I believe that is enough,” Éowyn growled from behind him. “Your own Lord Elrondd wed we were under his protection.”

It was a bit of a lie, but he did stand down. There was an almost grudging expression written in his dark eyes as he bowed his head to Alisceon. “Forgive me. You seemed so reluctant to trust that I could hardly help a little mischief. I did not intend to keep you away from your company.” When he straightened he appeared vastly different. He seedefedeferent, honest and touched a bit by sorrow.

Neither woman knew what to make of him, whether he was telling the truth or hiding ill intent. Alisceon walked around him and rejoined Éowyn, nodding softly without reply. Her cousin, however, did speak and sharply. “I hope for your sake that is true, Master Elf.”

He looked down softly, clasping his hands behind his back. “Yes, of course you have no reason to believe me. Rivendell has been through many changes and I cannot claim I an unaffected as well, but I do try to return what the darkness has taken. You cannot know because you have not seen, but there is more here than the violence Elrond’s sons invite.”

“And what is that?” Alisceon asked him, still not ready to trust just yet.

Yet his eyes conflicted her in their complete sadness. He mourned and it made her realize that the whole of Middle-earth was mourning. She was tired of it. “There is suffering.” He glanced up towards one of the darkened windows of the mansionary. “When I brought to him Arwen, Lord Elrond lost all hope. He put his Ring on in the hopehope that he could learn Sauron’s plans and at first we thought he had succeeded. He knew of a host of Orcs coming to attack Rivendell and we stopped them. He saw an attack on Lothlórien and sent his sons to warn them. But what he could not see was how the Dark Lord was drawing him into his nets, ensnaring his grace and turning it to ash.”

Eyes wide, Éowyn followed his gaze towards the window, trying in vain to see if perhaps that was where the faded Elf Lord stood. The shadows barred their vision. “He…he serves the Dark One? An Elf?”

Legolas inhaled deeply, fidgeting with his fingers. “He is trying not to let it go that far, but in truth I fear for he and his city. Aragorn’s coming may be his damnation or his salvat On Only time will tell.” He bowed again, then turned towards the deeper reaches of the gardens. “Be careful here. You are not safe.”

They watched him disappear into the mist, then looked at one another uncertainly. Conscious that Elves could hear bet better than humans, Alisceon took Éowyn by the hand and pulled her into the house. Once within the safety of the walls, she whispered, “What do you think of that?”

The blond looked back outside. There was no answer in her eyes. “Honestly? I couldn’t say. He seems different and yet there at the end he was not threatening in the least. I think Lord Aragorn would know more, though if what Legolas said of Elrond was true, he will have enough grief already. Lord Elrond raised him, I hear. It will pain him to see his father-figure fall like that.”

Alisceon bit her lip and urged Éowyn towards the room they shared. “Which brings me to wonder…what are we goto dto do? Are we really going to wait on the whims of an Elf Lord that’s communicating with Sauron? I have a pretty good idea that if it’s left up to him, we’re not going to be alive much longer.”

“I do not know, Alisceon,” her cousin breathed softly. “Boromir plans to speak with Aragorn alone, then we will meet in his quarters. He will tell us what the King has said.”

The half-elf raised her eyebrow as they turned down a hall. “And likely tell us what he thinks of Aragorn’s choices. Do you think it’s right, talking behind the King’s back?”

Éowyn shook her head, sighing. “Boromir said we will do as we must to survive, whether Aragorn be with us or not. It pains me, but I see that he is having it hard, being King. He was made for peaceful rule and I think he knows not what to do in a world that is foreign now. Come. We will speak with Boromir.”

*

Midnight approached. His hands were folded on the desk, slender fingers interwoven just as were his thoughts. It was eating at his heart, devouring the last traces of his grace. Legolas knew this because he could feel it in his own self. It was constant, as the beating of a heart, throbbing within the minds of all those that had remained in Rivendell. Lórien was under the protection of the Lady of Light, but Mirkwood was the weakest of the three. Soon it too would fall beneath the domination of Sauron. Very soon there would be enough power to bring down Lothlórien and forever change the lives of Elves.

This is what the Prince of Mirkwood saw when he looked upon Elrond. He saw a future forged in blood.

Legolas listened to pull of the Ring of Sauron humming through Vilya, the Ring of Air that Elrond wore. They were connected and now the Dark Lord had the means to dominate the Elves he despised so much. If the Prince was still enough he could almost hear his name among the myriad of names being whispered in lofty, seductive tones. He could remember those days when he had fought hard against its call.

Movement drew his attention away from his thoughts and he looked up as Elrond poured him a cup of tea. Grateful, the Prince bowed his head as he accepted. “What has Aragorn said?”

Elrond’s gray eyes darkened as he took a sip. “He comes asking for the help of the Elves. He has not the power to save Men on his own.”

Legolas looked at him point blank. “Will you truly kill him?”

That seemed to draw an inner battle to the surface of the Lord of Rivendell’s expression. His fingers toyed with his Ring. “Honestly, I do not know.”

“You know it is not your wish, but the wish of Sauron that Aragorn be sl” th” the Elf of Mirkwood replied mildly, setting his teacup within its saucer. He looked into the liquid inside, savoring the fresh scent of cinnamon. A gentle look crossed his features as he waited.

Irritated, Elrond shot him a glare. His defensive attitude gave him away. He was losing his ability to differentiate between Sauron’s wishes and his own. “I am in command of my own desires, young one. Do not forget that I had already seen the Dark Lord in war before you were even born.”

Legolas nodded softly, stealing another drink. He did not pursue the subject, shifting to another question on his mind. “What will be done with the others?”

The Lord of Rivendell shrugged indifferently. “They may be freed or slain or left to wait upon my choice concerning Aragorn. I care nothing about their welfare. What are mere mortals to us? They will all come to ruin before the end.”

Leaning back in his chair, tirkwirkwood Prince hid a sudden smile behind his teacup. “Indeed.”

*

Alisceon paced the bedroom floor and Éowyn sighed a second time. King Aragorn had not come back to them last night, nor had they been able to find him throughout the next day. The best they could get out of the Elves were assorted derisive snorts and not-so-subtle threats to obey without question. No one had come to gloat over Aragorn’s death, nor to tell them of their own doom. No one stopped them from wandering the halls and by all appearances, no one seemed to honestly care. Except Elladan. He had come by.

Éowyn wore a cut across her cheek from his slap when she refused to leave with him. He had come into their room without knocking and both had been prepared for him to attempt an assault, but on chance on of the King’s guards had heard from the next room and burst in. The Prince of Rivendell had left, but not without a warning. Now Éowyn refused to leave her rooms for fear of him.

Stopping at the window, Alisceon turned towards her and crossed her arms, leaning back against the sill. “I have to go for a walk. Waiting on Boromir is driving me crazy.”

Her cousin gave her a long-suffering look, then waved her off. “Send one of the men to me, will you?” The fear hidden behind this usually strong woman’s gaze made Alisceon reconsider. Éowyn picked up on that quickly. “Do not worry for me, Alisceon. I am sure if the elfnce nce were truly that vehement he would have had me by now. Go and relax, but…do not wander far.”

Giving her cousin a parting glance, Alisceon nodded and then headed out the door, eager to be free of the confines of that room. She was sick of waiting, wing ing and plots within plots. Letting the guards know to check on Éowyn, she headed on towards the gardens. Though they were little comfort, the weight of Rivendell seemed somehow lessened in the fresh air.

It wassingsing in on dusk as she passed from the house into the lavish flowering walkways and tall trees. She had no idea how far the reach of the city extended, there seemed to be no end. It was quiet out here, so haunting. She would never forget this place.

Crossing her arms Alisceon wandered the paths, her mind on their troubles. Freedom seemed so attainable when she could wander the forest without seeing or hearing any movement. Souldould easily believe there really were no guards around, yet would not be so foolish as to assume. Though there was no evidence to prove it to her senses, she had the distinct feeling she was not alone.

She was resolved not to show fear. She would not be weak before these Elves, so she did not turn back towards the home for some time. It was easy to forget you were a prisoner when no one bound you with chains.

But as the moon came into view Alisceon decided it was time to return. It was growing chilly and the submissive garden felt untamed by now. The feeling of being watched increased with her growing attention to her surroundings. A voice seemed to whisper to her—a realization that startled Alisceon. It becalearlearer when she snapped her head up to look around. It was not her Rohirrim name that was being spoken.

When she stopped, the voice stopped. Turning a few times, eyes in the trees anddowsdows, Alisceon hissed, “Show yourself!” There was no response.

Unnerved, she decided to continue on towards the house. Alisceon picked up the pace and ignored the silence, concentrating on the path and cursing herself a fool for tempting fate. But temptation was not through with her. By the time she reached the midpoint of the gardens footsteps following was all too clear. Angry, she stopped again and darted glances around her, seeing flickers of movement that were too quick to catch. “Stop playing with me!” she hissed, balling her hands into fists. “Show yourself!”

This time there was an answer to her demand. Coming from the darkness a form entered her view and she glared. Legolas smiled and lifted his hands. “Was someone troubling you? I thought I heard you yell.”

She crossed her arms, expression unfriendly. “Stop playing around. I know it was you.”

To her annoyance her stern tone merely served to increase his pleasure. The Elf lowered his hands and approached, heedless to her offensive stance. “How do you know it was me and not another?”

Her lips parted, but she realized she had no reasonable answer. Legolas nodded as if he had expected as much. “Then you assume. Terrible mortal habit.”

Alisceon frowned and turned away, uneasy when he started to follow. “What do you want?” she asked him defensively.

“Did I nell ell you?” His voice was very serious, very steady.

She grunted and walked a little faster. “In a language I was never taught.”

The Elf nodded softly, then took her arm, stopping her. Turning to face him, Alisceon let her irritation show plainly on her face and he smiled, reaching for her cheek. “I said I want to make you scream.”

Caught off guard, she hesitated a moment, then said, “Excuse me?”

His grip tightened painfully and he jerked her close. “I think you heard me.” He looked around the gns, ns, then pulled her into the brush and dragged her along quickly. Alisceon reached for his hand, prying at his fingers—even going so far as to dig her nails into his skin, but he would not let go. Instead her efforts won her a slap as he stopped, turned on her with merciless eyes and backhanded her.

Satisfied, he continued dragging her until they came to a small glade that was touched by the moon and filled with delicate fallen blossoms of a circle of flowering trees. Here he shoved her to the grass and knelt down at her side. “You’re not going to do this to me!” she hissed, struggling to push him off as he pulled her into his arms, forcing his mouth against hers. Alisceon groaned and sent her fist against his shoulder, but he did not stop until his tongue won passage and he began stealing her precious breath.

Her hands pressed against his shoul, de, desperately trying to drive him off, but his strength was amazing. She had always matched mortal men for stamina and agility, but this Elf she could not best. His hands began jerking at her pants, yanking the fabric until it tore down her hip. She used her thigh to knee him, but it only made him angry. Letting her have air, Legolas pulled from her lips and shoved her down to the ground hard, pulling her back up only to do it again until she stopped moving all together. As she lay there, shaking in shock at his violence, Legolas said low, “You will submit to m
U
Using his lack of a hold, Alisceon did the only thing she could think to do. She could not allow herself to be raped. Drawing her leg up quick, she kicked him and he groaned, falling back. When he was down, she got up and bolted off towards the looming house. She had not counted on being caught by someone else. At full speed she slammed into another person, who had stepout out before her. He fell back a few paces, but caught her and held her fast. “Well, well. What do we have here? A young girl alone in the forest with no one to help her?”

She couldn’t help the tears that formed when Haldir ran his fingers across her jaw. “Please,” she whispered, knowing by the lust in his eyes it was futile.

“You got away from me once, but now there is no one to save you,” he said, smiling down at her. His eyes traveled over her shoulder. “Lose something?”

Haldir jerked her around and she saw Legolas standing, leaning agaia tra tree and favoring the side she had kicked. He smiled and nodded towards the glade. Without needing any convincing Haldir held her arms tightly and directed her back into the trees. When Legolas looked back, seeing her struggle in the other Elf’s arms, he approached and cocked his head. “You fight so hard and yet when we are through you could be writhing in pleasure. Why? Why must mortals have such pride?”

Laughing softly, Haldir let her arms go and reached around, gripping the hem where strings held her shirt closed. His hot breath hit her neck as he darted his tongue across her flesh, then ripped the shirt open in a single tear. The cold hit her skin and instinctively, she crossed her arms over her bare breasts, looking down from the younger’s hot stare.

The Marchwarden smoothed his hands down her back gently, soothing, “Why do you hide from us? Have you not serviced enough of those filthy humans? Show yourself to my friend.”

“No,” she growled, steeling herself for punishment. Haldir rubbed his hands over her arms, then pulled them over her head, entwining them with his and pinning them hard. Her back naturally arched and Legolas closed the distance between them. His lips parted slightly and his hair traveling with a soft breeze, the Elf raised his hands and pressed them into her breasts, kneading, invading and learning her curves. His eyes held hers as he waited uponry rry reaction, every flutter of her lashes and intake of air. He smiled gently when she whimpered at his hard squeeze.

He looked down and his hands forsook her now swollen breasts. Instead he traced his fingertips down, circling her belly button and watching her squirm. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?” he asked softly, wrapping his fingers around the hem of her pants. Alisceon pulled herself away from Haldir as hard as she could, but his hold was unbreakable. As Legolas began removing the fabric covering her legs she kicked in desperation to keep her clothes on, but inevitably they were peeled from her body, leaving her bare to the cold air. Tossing her pants away, the Elf came to her, resting his hands on her hips and leaning into her ear. “You keep shivering like that, pretty. I like it.”

She glared at him and he smiled. His fingers traced the rim of her panties, reaching for the ties on her hips. Alisceon shifted her sore arms in Haldir’s, but could gain no relief from the pain. She was afraid; afraid, embarrassed, furious. She didn’t know how this could be happening to her, but when the Elf pulled the black strip of fabric from her hips and dropped it, she knew there was no escaping it.

“Why?” she asked, trying to avoid Legolas’s seeking hands. He watched her eyes patiently, bracing her waist towards him with one hand to her back while the other invaded places below. Alisceon let out the frustrated, frightened breath she had been holding when she felt his fingertips brush against her warmth, tracing the very beginnings of her flesh.

Desperate to stop these sudden sensations coursing through her, she held her thighs together tightly in some vain attempt to keep his violating touch from ascending any higher. The Elf’s eyes darkened at her refusal to submit. Frowning at her, his caressing ceased and she felt his fingers stiffen. He watched her eyes, held them in thrall as she tried to find some source of mercy there. There was none. Legolas forced his fingers up roughly, painfully winning past her entrance.

Her knees buckled, but Haldir kept her up and as Legolas thrust his fingers as deeply as he could, Alisceon bit her lip and tried to hold in her whimpers. It mattered little here in the silent woods. Her voice carried through her lips, destroying the quiet. Continuing his hurtful molestation of her, he pulled her hips closer and soothed, “Hush, child. Would you have for me to come to you while you were unready?”

Through grit teeth she hissed, “My arms,” feeling her fingertips go numb.

She knew it would do nothing to stop him. Legolas slowed his painful thrust, whispering, “Soon, meleth.(love.) Very soon.” He rubbed her sore warmth gently and though she tried, she could not help but move against the assault.

Haldir nuzzled against her hair, pressing his hips against her back. He was warm against her, which caused her to add to her struggles. “She cannot help herself, Legolas. Look how she writhes towards your touch. Mortal women have no control.” He shoved his thigh against her suddenly, pressing her into Legolas’s hand and she closed her eyes in sensation Eye Eyes hazy, Legolas drew his fingers out, satisfied with her wetness. He traced the moisture against her cheek and laughed when she turned headhead. His eyes looked to Haldir and he nodded. Wordlessly the Marchwarden threw her down to the ground and her legs weakened by sensation, Alisceon went down easily. Pressing her hands to the grass she tried to get up, but the Elves knelt on either side of her, trapping her between them.

“Where do you think you’re going to go?” Legolas asked softly, drawing her up to her knees. His hands found her shoulders, brushing her shirt down her arms. Haldir took her wrists, not allowing her to fight the action and she had no strength to contest that, even when he finally let go. The last of her clothing came off and was thrown away, baring her completely for the Elves.

Suddenly Legolas grabbed for her, jerking her and whipping her around to face the other. Haldir was opening his pants, making ready to be the first. Cradling his arms beneath hers and holding her waist as he smoothed a hand across her breast, the Elf Prince kissed her cheek and whispered, “My friend is going to fuck you now. It will hurt, meleth, of that I have no doubt. But if you endure it well I may treat you gently.”

“Go to Hell,” Alisceon replied hoarsely, trying to stay her tears.

His expression impatient, Haldir wrapped his hands around her ankles and yanked. Legolas let her hit the grass, but kept one arm locked beneath hers, holding her up. He put his other hand over her mouth, pressing her against his lap as Haldir positioned himself between her legs and looked down. When he shoved himself inside her Alisceon moaned against the hand covering her, her fingers digging into the grass. The Marchwarden was not gentle with her at all, pushing as far as he could go, then drawing back only to drive forward mercilessly again.

Her thighs tightened against his hips without her realizing she had even moved. Alisceon threw her head to the side to free herself from the hold against her lips, desperatlooklooking for something to anchor her against this pain. Groaning against the Elf’s hand, she opened her wet eyes to see Haldir looking down in pleasure as he shoved into her, then groaned. His voice filled her ears and the vision of his lashes fluttering as he pleasured himself inside her burned into her memory.

Huskily, he whispered, “Let her mouth go, Legolas. I wish to hear her cries.”

Legolas cradled the other arm beneath hers and as soon as her lips were free, Alisceon took a panting breath and closed her eyes again. The grass was moist with dew, chillainsainst her flesh, but it did not quench the burning across her body. Her muscles ached from the tension she held herself in, bracing herself through Haldir’s rough thrusts.

Each time he came down into her he seemed to throw himself completely into the act, as if he hungered for her pain. She felt his hand go beneath her thigh and push it back against her abdomen for better access. It deepened his thrust, made her more vulnerable to him and he took advantage of it fully. She cried out, just as he had wanted, and hated herself when he moaned against her. Pleasured by her pain, he whispered, “Cano…cano anim, (Scream…scream for me.),” reverting back to his own tongue as he closed in on his climax.

By the time he met it her body was throbbing and aching so terribly that she didn’t even realize until he jerked himself up from her, looking down through sated, hazy eyes. Doing up his pants, he brushed sweat-moist silvery-golden hair back from his and and smiled down at her. “Want me to hold her?”

Legolas pulled her up into a sitting position, replying, “No. You may leave us.”

The Marchwarden nodded, getting up without sparing her another glance. He left them alone, but Alisceon wasn’t sure if she could fight. Yet still she didn’t think she could take being raped again. Not like that. But before she could act Legolas crawled around to her side, tucking her hair behind her ear as he looked into her flushed face.

Seeing distdistress he wrapped his arms around her, smoothing his hands down her back. “You served him well,” he said, pushing her back down to the earth. Alisceon’s hands flew up to his shoulders, but quickly gripped her wrists and held them down. “Perhaps mortal women enjoy being brutalized.” His tone hardened, his eyes flashed. When she stopped struggling, he softened again and kissed her cheek. “But that will not be your fate again. I want something else from you than pained whimpers.”

Closing her eyes, wishing she were anywhere else, Alisceon breathed in a weary voice, “What do you want?” Perhaps if she just did it and let it go, this nightmare could end.

Legolas let her wrists go, sending an arm up behind her back to hold her closer. Wordlessly he opened his pants, then parted her legs. The other arm then went up over her shoulder, beneath her neck, trapping her against him so close she feared she would smother by his presense alone. “I want your submission.”

Her eyes opened at that, but he was already sinking into her flesh. The penetration was slow, painful and yet touched by something else. An ache began in her abdomen at his soft movements. Legolas dipped his face into the warmth of her throat, kissing her bare shoulder and marking her as he rocked his hips into hers.

She almost hated this more. Undistracted by rough, rash movements, Alisceon could feel intensely every single sensation the Elf caused. She could feel warmth of his muscled stomach pressing into hers, the pressure of his hardness caressing her sensitive spots as he plunged down into her. The warmth of his mouth leaving wet marks on hhoulhoulders, then on up until he covered her lips. The kiss caused her dizzying sensations.

Alisceon looked through the trees that threw blossoms down upon them, fixing her eyes on the stars and trying to stop herself from reacting to this. Rarely was she taken so gently by any man, even her lovers, and she wanted to leave it that way, a sacred, tender thing she could share with someone she truly loved. Yet this Elf was stealing it and there was nothing she could do. Trying to stop her tears, she raised her hands again to spur him into the brutality he had threatened, but Legolas wouldn’t give in. “Hush, meleth,” he whispered hard, losing himself slowly to the pleasure. “Submit to me.”

“No,” she said softly, not knowing if he heard amidst his groans or if it would make him merciful if he did. She lowered her hands to the grass, tearing the little blades with her shaking fingers.

His breath hit her face as he looked down, watching her pleasure steadily growing. Legolas pawed gently at one of her breasts, rubbing and pinching, inciting little thrills of sensation. Alisceon whimpered, this time in desperate need for him to stop. He could see she was losing control. Lowering his mouth against hers he whispered, “Yes. That’s it.”

His tongue pressed into her lips, sliding across the delicate flesh and urging for more access as he moved. She would not allow him to kiss her, but he was nothing if not insistent. The Elf smiled and slowed, pulling his hips back. When he surged forward, she moaned out and he forced his mouth back over hers, dipping his tongue into the heat and sucking hotly.

Alisceon could feel it building. She hated what he was doing to her, but couldn’t stop herself from shivering. Before long her innocent shudders turned into writhing as the pressure started to cause her defenses to crumble. Her stomach fluttered in need and feeling it, Legolas stopped his consuming kiss to urge her on gently, saying, “That’s my girl. Submit.”

She tightened hests sts and cried, trying to stop it. His hand touched her hip softly, driving her closer. “No,” she begged him, begged herself, the Valar. Anyone. But it was coming too fast, too hard. Legolas forced his kiss upon her again in time to taste her moans. As she shuddered uncontrollably, he moved faster and savored her writhing until finally he lost himself, coming to his own end.

Time seemed to have faded into nothing. It was dark all around, save the light granted by the moon overhead. Alisceon shivered beneath the Elf, staring at the stars. His breathing reminded her painfully of his presense. How was she supposed to react to this? Questions and confusion reigned over her. Never hhe dhe dreamed of this. Men had taken to her in Rohan, a few had even went so far as to corner her, but never had it gone so far as this.

Then he moved. Legolas moved off of her and sat at her right, looking down with shining eyes. Those dark orbs of diminishing light trailed across her naked body and she felt vulnerable to him, more than she had with even Haldir. It was as if he knew what to take from her, knew everything about her. When those bright eyes met hers again, a sudden smile found his lips. His hand stroked her abdomen softly as he said, “Now you are mine.”

Alisceon pushed his hand away and closed her eyes, wanting him to leave her alone. “I don’t belong to anyone,” she hissed, draping her arm across her breasts to hide herself from him.

Legolas laughed darkly, leaning against her again. His breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, “Oh, but you do, for I can make you cry when you would laugh. I can make you scream in desire when you would scream in hate. You were nothing to Haldir but a diversion. To me you are more.”

Tears slid past her eyes and she had to resist the temptation to wipe them. She would not break down in front of him. “Why? What do you want from me?”

The Elf wiped her tears away gently and smoothed her hair back as if she were a child to be comforted. His tone became grave and sorrowed. “I want to inflict that which was inflicted upon myself. I was broken when I came here, a very painful experience. My innocence was robbed of me.”

“And now you would do the same thing?” she shot back, opening her eyes. He had a hazy, faraway expression as if he were hearing something else and she wondered if he had even heard.

But then his eyelids fluttered and he remembered himself. Meeting her curiosity with a mild patience, Legolas stroked her hair repetitively and said, “I would do the same thing and I would delight in it. I will take all your light away from you and leave you in the dark, just as I was left.”

He leaned over her again and though Alisceon moved her head from side to side, in the end she was captured and he forced his kiss on her once more. His tongue mingled with hers and his suck drew away all her precious air until she whimpered and he let go. “Go away,” she said hoarsely, trying to withhold her grief and rage so she could act wisely without making matters worse. She couldn’t take much more of this. His presense was dominating, terrible and full of sorrow. It reminded her of all that was wrong with this world.

Legolas licked his lips and stood up, kicking an article of her clothing at her. “Remember, Alisceon. You belong to me. If I see you with the Man of Gondor, you will regret it.”

She would have replied, but when his form faded into the shadows she lost all need. Sitting up in the glade, naked and alone, Alisceon replayed it in her mind again despite every intention to forget. It made her sick to think of, but his voice would not leave her thoughts. Drawing her knees up, she wrapped her arms around them and wept.