In Darkness and In Doubt
Part 5
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*
Legolas knelt by the stream, drawing
the crystal clear water into his hands.
He splashed it into his face, clearing away blood and sweat.
his bare shoulders, closing his eyes as it trickled down his chest.
Illuvatar himself had brought to him rest from his troubles.
and ephemeral, for he knew well the darkness would return soon.
Suddenly a hand was at the back of his
throat. The rest was snatched away
as he was shoved forward, his face hitting the water’s cold surface and
plunging beneath. Panicked, he
thrashed and jerked, trying to free himself, but the hand was firm and had
caught him unaware. The water lost
its charm as it filled his mouth.
Legolas flailed hard, but in his weakened state could not win this
battle. His lungs felt as though
they would burst.
The hand tensed, holding him down, then
just as Legolas prepared to see the Halls of Mandos, let him up.
down to the dirt. Rising from a
crouch, Haldir smirked and crossed his arms. “Someday I will not let go.”
On his hands and knees, Legolas coughed
up water and ignored the Marchwarden.
When he finally caught his breath, he looked up to see the Elf watching
him in distaste. “Where is Lady
Galadriel?” he asked, his mind going to Saralonde. He had been worried for her all day, knowing what would
happen. What she must be going
through, he thought sorrowfully.
He would have gladly taken her place in pain if he could have bought her
freedom.
Haldir kicked dirt at him and
smiled. “She is occupied with your
little girlfriend.”
Legolas’s eyes went wide as he raced to
his feet. “What?!” he demanded,
looking at the stairs.
The Marchwarden drew his sword,
unimpressed.
yourself, whelp, for my patience is low.”
His heart filled with despair.
evils for the sake of keeping the Lady of light away from Saralonde.
the same was to be done to his love.
“I have been forsaken,” he whispered, lowering his eyes to the earthen
floor.
“So it would seem,” Haldir agreed,
smiling softly.
*
Saralonde groaned, awakening and
finding herself uncomfortably curled on the floor. In the fog of bringing herself to awareness she came to the
realization that she was not alone in the home. The door had awakened her when it was opened.
pulled herself to her feet, knowing Boromir would be angry and suspicious if he
found her on the floor. Drawing
herself to the mirror, she winced when she looked at the bruise on her cheek
from where Faramir had hit her.
There would be no hiding it.
Footsteps warned her of his entry into
the bedroom and when she turned she felt at least somewhat prepared for
him. She had not been
prepared for Pippin. He bounded
into the room and stopped short upon seeing her. His eyes became grave, but he did not address her
state. “My Lady, I brought your
dinner. Nice and hot.
you a little bit.”
“Lady Galadriel?”
Legolas, the chance of asking should be taken. Licking her lips, Saralonde straightened her skirt and said,
“All right.”
Pippin smiled gently and reached his
hand out. Saralonde politely took
it and followed him out into the main room where she saw the Lady of Shadow
sitting, her hood thrown back. Her
presense was such that instinctively Saralonde almost bowed before her, but she
stopped herself when she realized just who this person was.
recognized these thoughts in her.
“Leave us,” she told the Hobbit.
He bowed and gave Saralonde a parting
look, then disappeared out the door.
Through the window she could see it was dark outside.
of food, signifying that the Lady of Lórien would not remain for dinner.
case. Saralonde sat down and
refrained from eating, waiting for the Lady to speak. “You wished to speak to me?”
Galadriel smiled and motioned
down. “Eat, child.
table and watched until the younger took a bite. “So you survived Lord Faramir’s attack.”
The blatant question made her
tense. Saralonde looked down at
the table, not sure what to say.
“I did,” she chose,ainiaining aloof and volunteering nothing.
The Lady of Shadow nodded softly, then
shifted the conversation. “If you
lost Legolas, what would you do?”
Saralonde’s eyes shot up to
Galadriel’s. “What?” she asked,
feeling a nervousness in the pit of her stomach. “He’s not…”
Galadriel shook her head, then took a
sip from a cup of tea before her.
She seemed as though she were going to make a point, but whatever that
was she was taking her time getting there. “Saralonde, if you lost him to darkness, would you follow or
would you want freedom?”
Darkness? The darkness of death or the darkness of evil?
truthfully. She shook her
head. “Legolas would never turn.”
“You think that is so?”
betraying nothing as Saralonde nodded defiantly. She glanced at the door, then back again.
Mirkwood. To stand with your lover
in darkness or to take your freedom and go where you will, abandoning him to a
hopeless task. I am not permitted
to make that choice for you, but I ask you to consider your love for him.
Saralonde found herself unable to eat,
trying so hard to understand what this dark being was getting at.
thinking back on his abused appearance.
She would have demanded, would have snapped and yelled, but it wasn’t in
her heart to do so. So she lowered
her tone, trying to find mercy in Galadriel’s wise eyes.
The Lady of Shadow shook her head,
rising to her feet. “All I will
say is that I am preparing him.
Tomorrow you will make a choice.
To live for the greater good or to live for yourself.”
hood. “He comes,” she said, eyes
trailing over Saralonde’s face.
“You should consider minding your temper tonight.”
The door opened and Boromir entered,
stopping when he saw Galadriel. He
looked a trifle annoyed, but would not dare be rude to the Lady.
do something for you, my Lady?”
Galadriel smiled and declined, heading
for the door. “Nay, Boromir.
Boromir grunted with a short nod,
holding the door as she exited.
“Farewell,” he said, shutting it as the lady disappeared.
over. “What was that all about?”
Saralonde grabbed her fork, fingering
the metal sides of the instrument.
She gazed at her food, unsure what he would take anger at.
Removing his outer jacket, tossing it
on the chair, he grunted again and came to her. Taking her goblet, he looked inside, then took a drink
before setting it back before her.
“Interesting.” Boromir
kicked his boots off and looked down.
She averted her gaze self-consciously, but it was too late.
“Nothing.” Part of her had not meant to say that, to tell him of
Faramir’s attack and hope for justice.
“Mmm,” he hummed, undoing his
belt. He threw it onto the table
and she jarred. Boromir wandered
behind her then, putting his hands on her shoulders. He began to knead them softly. “What should I do to you for lying?”
Saralonde curled her hands into fists,
feeling herself grow hot with anger and hate. But she remembered Galadriel’s warning.
her temper? Recalling Faramir’s
violence, she desperately did not want to know. In an even tone she responded, &#;You;You should remember honor
and make a compassionate choice on what you think you should do.”
Boromir laughed at that and she closed
her eyes, expecting violence.
“Begging are you?”
“Not begging,” she whispered, even if her
heart was begging the Valar somehow life would have mercy.
that it would not harm me as much as it would you. It is you who will fall away.”
He exhaled and brushed the fabric down
her shoulders softly, running his hands over her bare skin.
who hit you? I do not take lightly
to what is mine being touched.”
She searched herself.
threatened? Yet what did it matter.
“Faramir.” And then she waited.
His hands stopped, tensing against her
skin. “Faramir?” he repeated in an
unreadable voice. “Did you deserve
it? Be honest, for I will speak
with him.”
“No doubt he would say I did,” she
replied, thinking again of what had happened. She could still hear him breathing, was still sore all
over. Saralonde absently rubbed at
her arm. “He hit me for fighting
him.”
&0;Fi0;Fighting him on what?
him?” Boromir let her arms ago,
returning to her field of vision.
He looked distinctly annoyed.
Saralonde lifted her gaze, meeting his
eyes head on. “What do you think
he wanted? What do you think he
did?”
He exhaled, jerking a chair from the
table and sitting. His eyes were
on her, sharp and seeking. They
trailed her face, taking in the bruise there, and on down her neck and
chest. It was a slow,
uncomfortable sweep that made her look away. “How bad?”
She knew she could not put words to the
violence. Perhaps she didn’t have
to. Pulling her sleeves back, Saralonde
showed him her sliced up wrists.
“It was bad.” She said it
short, not expecting anything but his watchful, burning eyes to remain on her.
Boromir reached for her hand, taking it
and pulling her arm to him. He
brushed his thumb across her torn up skin. She noticed his jaw was set. “My brother is an animal,” he mused darkly, letting her go
and looking up. “He will answer
for this, I promise you that.”
It was a kindness he was offering, but
she could not accept it. Tears
filling her eyes, she said very coldly, “Is that supposed to make me
happy? Grateful?”
He shook his head without malice.
“I would not imagine it would,” she
shot, then exhaled at the dangerous glint in his eyes.
being raped three times in three days?”
For a long moment he just watched her,
his expression unreadable, but touched with a hardness that made her shiver in
anticipation. Perhaps she had gone
too far. A part of her did not
care, either. Boromir nodded his
head soon, then sat forward, drinking from her glass again.
angry. I am angry you were so
abused by my brother.”
She stared at him, incredulous.
His eyes flashed and he pointed at her
threateningly. “You forget one
thing. You are mine, not his.
would. It is within my desire to
be good to you, prideful Elf, because I do not delight in blood as Faramir
does. I would have it be a
pleasure between us, but it is you that fights.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she
glared at him, feeling her anger rise steadily. By force of will she kept herself calm in adherence to
wisdom. But she would speak her
mind. “You take my freedom and you
expect me to enjoy it?”
Boromir shook his head.
to stay, whether you like it or not.
I will have you, Saralonde, but it is up to you how well we get
along.” He stood up again,
wandering behind her. His palms
came against her shoulders, rubbing once more as she remained silent, weeping
for her inability to make him see the truth. Or maybe he saw it and cared not. “Get up. Do not
fight me. I have no desire to hurt
you any further.”
“Even knowing what he did, you would
use me?” she asked bitterly, standing and jerking herself away.
The Captain of Lorien approached again,
brushing his fingers down her cheek.
“Will you not let me be good to you? I would be merciful and make this easy on you, and you would
spurn even that.”
“Your gifts can never win my
affection!” Saralonde hissed, standing still as he wiped her wet face gently.
He traced his thumb over her lip.
Boromir pulled her into him and pressed his mouth against hers, forcing her
gently into his kiss. She put her
hands to his shoulders, pushing, but he held firm. He sent his other hand down her chest, smoothing down into
the neck of her dress and cupping her supple flesh.
“I’ll never enjoy this,” she told him,
moving her face to the side to avoid his tongue.
“Never?” he laughed, backing her
against the wall. He laid kisses
on her forehead, cheeks and jaw line, then looked into her face with hazy
eyes. “You need never enjoy it if
that is your wish. But it will
happen regardless.” He shoved his
lips over hers, caging her against the wall with his arms.
Saralonde wiggled in his grasp, trying
to create space between them, but he was imposing upon her.
her and that it would hurt. She was
so tired of hurting. His hand
dropped between them, fumbling with his pants until he had them open.
she panted for air. “Give me your
hand.”
Her eyes widened.
He nodded downwards, looking flushed
and hungry. “You’re injured,
therefore I will make this easy.
Unless you would rather I fuck you against this wall?”
descend down the dark strands.
“Make your choice, but I will be satisfied tonight one way or
another. Be grateful I am content
with your hand and not forcing myself into other areas of your pretty body.”
The words left her cold, shaken
inside. But she had no strength to
accept him any other way, so she gave him her hand and closed her eyes.
fingers around his hardness, stroking with her at first.
against the wall, pressing her into it.
“Like this,” he whispered, forcing her hand to where he had begun to
moisten. He forced her to spread
it down his length, slickening the pathway. His breathing was heavy as he kissed her again, abandoning
her to her work and resting the other hand against the wall.
Saralonde stood still against the wall,
trying hard not to listen to his breathing or open her eyes to see his lustful
expressions. Her stroke was slow,
for she knew not how to do this.
For a time Boromir was content, allowing himself to be teased by her
pace, but soon she felt him growing hungrier. “Harder,” he growled, nuzzling into her hair as he began
rocking against her hand.
She gripped firmer, trying to get this
over with as soon as possible, but he caught on and took her wrist, forcing her
to slow again. “Look at me,” he
whispered, pulling himself back slowly, then shoving against her hand
hard. Saralonde opened her eyes,
watching his stare into hers in lust.
He thrust against her several times, then let go to rub up her stomach
to her breast. He ran a circle
over the cloth, then pinched and smiled when her lashes fluttered.
her raggedly, rocking slowly again.
Biting her lip, Saralonde tried to
match his pace and his response filled her with loathing as he rested his
forehead against hers, groaning deeply.
“I could put my fingers inside you,” he continued, whether to intimidate
her or tempt her or cause himself pleasure, she did not know.
for air. “Rub your sensitive spots
until you are writhing hard against my hand. I could make you want it.”
“Never,” she retorted, closing her eyes
again as his mouth captured hers.
His tongue intruded into her mouth, forcing along hers in tandem with
his thrust against her hand.
Boromir laughed, shoving against her
and groaning out. “It will happen,
Saralonde. I will touch you until
you scream in desire.” He dropped
his head to her shoulder, his hard movements sending her into the wall with
each rolling sh
filled her ears as he forced himself against her hand erratically, driving for
his climax.
When it happened, she tensed, feeling
him shake hard againsr.
heavy breathing could be felt, his chest moving against hers as he fought for
air. Boromir tangled his fingers
into her dark hair, petting her in praise for his pleasure.
“Don’t do this now,” she asked softly,
wiping her hand against her skirt.
“Please.”
Boromir stepped back, looking well
sated as he jerked his pants up.
“I am going to see how damaged you are, if I have to tie you down to do
it. Now take the fucking dress
off.”
Seeing no point in argument, Saralonde
crossed her arms over her chest pulling the sleeves of her dress down her
shoulders. He watched as the
garment slid down her body, then motioned towards the bedroom.
with weary apprehension. Lying back,
she covered her eyes with her hands, feeling her skin go hot as he sat down
beside her.
He shoved her thighs apart and she felt
his fingers brush her flesh.
“Bastard,” he growled, inserting his fingintointo her.
trying not to react one way or another.
“Did he say anything to you?”
She could feel him stroking her now, as
if petting her. She tried to sit
up, but he shoved her back down and continued. “He said he would give me to his men if I told you.
did not.”
Boromir nodded, watching her
softly. “He would say that, lying
little son of a bitch. If anyone
touches you, Saralonde, tell me of it.
I will protect you.”
There was nothing to be said to
that. She wanted to sneer, to
revile his kindness, but it would get her nowhere. He did not look for an answer, pressing his fingers against
her sensitivity, rubbing rhythmically.
“Avo garo,” she whispered as he touched her. She felt her eyes brim with new tears.
“Nestagon nin lebid ned le an lin gell,
levithon lin born dîn
le,” he said in amusement, brushing her flesh a little more insistently.
Saralonde tightened her fists along the
sheet, glaring at him with pained eyes.
“Avo! Gell nîn no an
Legolas. Anno sen anim?”
no mercy. She could not stop
herself from reacting to his touching, anymore than she could stop feeling pain
if he were beating her instead.
Watching her face, Boromir considered
with a dark impatience that made her heart sink. He would force it on her, force her to feel pleasured by his
touch. Saralonde closed her eyes,
letting her tears fall. Then he
pulled his hand away. Daring to
look at him, she saw he was angry.
“You will never see him again,” he told her, throwing his tunic off to
the floor. “I will leave you that
if it means that much to you, but do not count on Aragorn letting him live much
longer. Get some sleep.”
She sat up, gazing at his hard
expression in the mirror he now faced as he changed into sleeping pants.
through the dresses, picking out a gauzy pink lace nightgown.
the bathroom. Startled by his
behavior, Saralonde dressed silently, wondering what this would portend.
refusal? Not that it would
matter. She could never willingly
be pleasured by him. Clothed and
grateful, she drew the blanket over her and waited.
He came out, washed up and a little
less annoyed. Boromir slipped into
bed, looking her over. “Thank
you,” she said, uncertain how he would take it.
Boromir nodded curtly, settling down
and drawing her into his arms. He
smelled of husky spice and fresh water.
His voice was tart. “I told
you I was no monster. Perhaps my
goodwill can be a foundation for further civility between us.”
She did not reply to that, but in her
heart wondered how much civility could be between master and slave.
the small peace between them. Closing
hees aes as his hand began traveling her body, smoothing over her gown as his
breathing relaxed, Saralonde thought again on what Galadriel had said to her.
*
“I could have you arrested for treason,
you know. Aragorn would need only
my word.” Boromir leaned against
the table, his chest bare and his arms crossed. He took a perverse pleasure in being so unclothed before
Lady Galadriel, for he knew how disgusted she was by it.
Elven pride was still as strong as ever.
He knew she found humans, specifically males such as he, beastly and
uncouth.
Galadriel did not seem particularly
impressed by his threat. Her hands
were curled over the arms of the chair, her starlit eyes gazing through his
soul. “You will not.”
Boromir smirked, shaking his head at
her confidence. “I am not under
your rule, Lady. You do not order
me about.”
Her eyes hardened and she sat forward
quickly, glaring him down. Despite
himself, he felt as helpless as a child.
He could feel her entering his mind, that soft presense so alluring and
seductive and terrible. Who do
you think you are, human, to contend with my will? Her voice in his thoughts was sharp.
an end to the war with Sauron, once and for all, and you, a child of forty
small years would dare to come against me?
The Captain of Lorien balled his fists,
catching his breath and steeling his heart against the assault.
his will.
Galadriel smiled at his struggle, then
nodded softly. “No, it will not
come to that. I see your heart,
Boromir. In another time and place
you could have been a great Lord among Men.”
“I am a great Lord among Men,”
he retorted, rubbing his temple as a headache began.
The Elf blinked, but her expression did
not change. “But it is for fear
you hold this title, not glory.
You had the destiny to be loved, not hated. And darkness ripped it away by a chance of fate.”
Boromir bit the side of his cheek,
annoyed. “Are these the riddles
you use on Aragorn? What do you
care of glory and honor? You, who
delighted in the blood of her own husband?” That was a mistake and he knew it even before the weight of
her will sent him to his knees in pain. “Damn you, woman!” he hissed. “What the hell do you want of me?”
He had never heard the Lady of Shadow
laugh and could have done without it now.
It was soft, musical and touched by perverse pleasure in his pained
acknowledgment of her hold. “Dear
Boromir, it is not my want to hurt you.”
“Like bloody hell,” he retorted,
jerking himself to his feet.“Give
me a reason not to go to Aragorn with your treachery.”
“The fact that you ask, Captain, is one
reason. You do not trust
Aragorn. You despise him.”
graciously provided.
Boromir sank into a comfortable chair,
brushing his hair back. “So?”
Galadriel smiled patiently.
ve
to Sauron’s will.”
“You aren’t?” he countered hotly,
irritated by this conversation. If
Aragorn found out he had con considered her words after her suggestion, his
very life would be forfeit.
The Shadow Queen‘s eyes became very
sad, a rare expression on such a face.
It was almost as unnerving as her anger. “I am. still fight. Aragorn is
fooled. He thinks he is now apart
from Sauron’s terrible will, but I tell you any being that possesses that Ring
will never be free. Sauron has
been biding his time, but he is almost ready. Time is fading away and soon not only Elves, but Men wil
co
completely under his sway. The
only master will be him.”
Nodding smartly, he made the only
‘logical’ conclusion. “And you,
his slave, naturally would want to a sta stop to his evil doings, is
that it? Because that is how
slaves behave?”
Does Lady Saralonde bow to your will in
all ways, accepting your orders without a fight?
she countered thoughtfully. It was
a decent point.
“What do you want?”
Galadriel reached across the end table,
taking his hand. “Consider what I
have said. When I free Legolas to
kill King Aragorn and take the Ring for Frodo, they will need all the help they
can get. The way to Mordor is a
dangerous path. Men and Orcs and
even Elves will be against you.”
He laughed mirthlessly.
King, betray my lineage to get a Hobbit to Mordor so he can what?”
“Destroy the Ring.”
her hand, admiring Nenya upon her hand.
“Do you think life could be better if it were destroyed?
bring glory and honor back to our peoples and more if we had but the
chance. Will you go with
them? She will need protection as
well as the Halfling. You care for
her.”
Boromir frowned at her manipulating
words, but could not help the stirring he felt. “Damn you,” he breathed again, glancing at the door to his
bedroom. “You are asking no small
thing of me.”
“I have seen a danger, Bir,&ir,” she
said in a warning tone. “The Elf may
lose himself along the way.s">
Someone strong must see the Ring gets to Mordor at all costs.
from him.”
“I somehow doubt she would be grateful
if I attempted to protect her from her own lover.” The Captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully, despite his
sarcastic tone. “What makes you so
sure they would even accept my help?”
Galal sml smiled softly.
Hobbit safe while Legolas kills Aragorn.”
Smirking at that, he nodded as if she
had just proclaimed something as absurd as returning to the light.
such a task. Does he know?
could possibly kill the High King?”
“He does not know that he will end
Aragorn’s life, but I know he has a good chance. What of your choice, Captain?” The confidence in her eyes quelled any thoughts of reporting
this treachery. If he chose not to
go along he suspected he would dire are and now. And if he chose to follow, he would be watched from here on
out. Not that he would tell
anyone, anyway. Aragorn annoyed
him with his sentimentality and darkness.
It would amuse Boromir to see the High King struggle, to hear what the
Elf had won himself for his misbegotten bravery.
*
Elvish:
Avo garo. – Don’t do this.
Nestagon nîn lebid ned le an lin gell, levithon lin born dîn
si deri thaur na le. – I insert my fingers into you for your joy, I would
(will) lick your hot opening, yet remain abhorrent to you.
Avo! Gell nîn no an Legolas. Anno
sen anim. – Don’t!