Where The Shadows Lie

Hey, Meso! Thanks again! Yeah, I know what you mean. I've always been quite annoyed that men could run around at will and it be considered normal, but women are put down. Screw opinions, I say. ;) Anyway, Niriel's eyes are hazel...green with brown spots, I think, per my friend's preference. :) Hope you enjoy the next chapter! Very nice of you to review again!

*

“It is time you awakened, meleth.” The voice jarred her out of sound sleep. As her eyes slowly opened Alisceon realized she was warm, it was dark and walls surrounded her. Both the moon and stars illuminated the room, and a candle standing on a table across from the bed she had been sprawled across. She was on her stomach—clothed she could feel—and painfully not alone. She could hear breathing. Even though he was not within her field of vi she she knew the voice had been no dream. As if proving her point fate filled the silence with his soft words. “I know you are awake. I saw your breathing change. Sit up, please.”

Alisceon closed her eyes a moment, trying to strengthen her courage. How had this happened? Where was Boromir? Her stomach fluttered as she imagined what might have befallen him. Pushing herself up, Alisceon turnowarowards the soft voice, brushing her hair behind her ears. He sat in a chair with his fingers entwined, his expression not immediately threatening. Sitting as far back as she dare on the bed, she asked, “Where is Boromir?”

Legolas seemed irritated by her question, at first hesitating to answer. Yet though he meant for it or not, his eyes flitted to his left and Alisceon followed. Her answer was found by a visible form in the shadows. There was no mistaking Boromir’s leg just within a strip of moonlight across thoor.oor. The soft pant had not come from the Elf, but from the Lord of Gondor.

Immediately Alisceon made to get off the bed, but the blond Elf sat up with sharp eyes, extending one hand towards her. “Do not move from that bed,” he warned in a commanding tone that made her pause. “Lord Boromir is comfortable.”

That he had not said a word bothered her. Alisceon squinted to see through the dim to try and glean anything, and as her eyes adjusted she could see his staring back in pain. There was a dark cloth over his mouth. Looking at the sheet she said, “What did you do to him? How diu geu get me here without my waking?”

The Elf settled back into his chair, once again mild and easy, if a little impatient by her words. “None of that is truly your concern. I have my ways. What we will discuss now is what I shall do to you for laying with him.”

Her eyes widened. “How did you know that?” she hissed, tensing when he came off the chair. She supposed it didn’t matter. They were dead anyway.

Legolas sat down on the bed, reaching for her gently. His fingertips were warm as they brushed across her throat. He smiled when she pulled away from him. “Ai, Niriel, u-garich isto tiron le ardarel? (Ah, Niriel, do you not know I watch you always?)” Those dark blue eyes of his hardened. “Pennin an le u-misto an i adan o Gondor. Si boe naegro le. (I told you not to stray to the man of Gondor. Now it is necessary to hurt you.)”

What did he want her to respond with? She was beginning to hate hearing those words chattered at her, frustrated that she had no idea what was being said. Looking down from his gaze she growled, “You know I don’t understand.”

The Elf laughed lightly, reaching for her hair. His fingers slid through the dark strands slowly under his vigilant watch. “Worry not, pretty. I will teach you fair speech in time.” She looked up into his soft, smiling expression. He may have been a lover basking in her attention by the look of him. “You wore the dress for me.”

Annoyed, Alisceon pulled her hair out of his loose hold, crossing her arms. Whatever he was planning she wished fervently he would just start it and get it over with. “I did nothing of the sort. Nothing I do is for you unless it were to youryour miserable life.”

“Such words, meleth,” he chided, tracing the rim of the dress. He pulled the shoulder slightly down, then traced her shoulder blade. “Of course you did it for me. I left you with nothing to wear, therefore whether or not you had remained naked or clothed would have been directly because of my actions. You wore the dress for my sake, because for my sake I left you no choice.”

She slapped his hand away and looked to Boromir, nervous that he had been brought here. Was Legolas going to hurt him before her eyes…or hurt her before his? She didn’t like that the Elf was touching her, kept returning his hands to her shoulders and hair even after she pushed him away. She didn’t want Boromir to see that. “Are you going to kill us?” she asked, running ideas through her mind of how to escape, or how to win his anger. The more she thought about it, the more she knew she could not allow herself to be raped again, not with anyone watching.

A dark little laugh from the one at her side made her hold her breath. She saw Boromir’s fingers tighten in the dark as if he guessed the answer. “No. You will not die, pretty. The King, however, is under Elrond’s command and the Lord of Imladris will decide his fate. He is here now for my amusement.” Suddenly arms surrounded hers, jerking her off the bed and to her feet. Squeezing her to him, Legolas made her face Boromir and in a deep, angry tone said into her ear, “He should watch what happens when he touches what is mine.”

Alisceon reached down to her waist, trying fervently to peel his arms apart so she could escape. Bound to the chair he was in, Boromir could do nothing but shout through his gag and pull at the ropes around hissts sts and ankles. “Don’t touch me!” screacreamed, throwing herself forward to pull him down.

Legolas whirled her around and pinned her to the wall, then drew his hand back. She raised her arm to block, but the sweeping motion only caused her pain with such force. Her face snapped to the side, her cheek stinging from the slap. When she dared look into his eyes she saw true fury there, eyes fiery arighright. “I will touch you. I will leave no part of you untouched!”

He slapped her again and she felt a panic well up in her, not knowing what to do. Every hit came with the reminder that Boromir saw everything. She could hear him struggling fruitlessly to free himself. Sick and embarrassed, Alisceon put her hands to the Elf’s shoulders and shoved with all her power. When he stumbled back she ran to Boromir, eyes seeking any quick way to cut him loose.

“Run to him, Niriel. Run to him that I may punish you more,” Legolas hissed, closing on her. His hand came against her arm, curling until his fingertips bore into her skin. He jerked her around and hit her again, henouenough that she fell to her knees. “You care for him, mortal whore?”

When she failed to respond, he nudged her with his foot. Alisceon looked up, glaring through her tears as she held her cheek. He repeated his question and she spat back, “I would care for a murderer more than I would ever care for you!”

The Elf smiled at that. He nodded, retreating to a desk nearby and hurriedly Alisceon looked for the knot to Boromir’s ties. It was firm, too strong for her to untie without enough time. Groaning softly, Boromir flexed his fingers towards her and she looked up. His eyes were resigned, furious and sad. Footsteps caused her to turn back around.

Legolas grabbed the shoulder of her dress and pulled her in front of the bound human. “You care for him,” he breathed, waving a silver dagger. Alisceon looked up with pleading in her eyes. The Elf ignored it. “You care and we please those we care for. So pleasure him.”

Eyes wide, she stared into his firm gaze, wondering why he would do something so terrible. Then she understood. It would shame them both, hurt them. The Elf was mad with possession and ready to make her suffer for not submitting. “I won’t do this,” she said softly, shaking her head. She could not, would not for any reason.

There was no slap, no beating for her refusal. The Elf nodded his satisfaction and stepped over her to get at Boromir. He put the dagger to his throat. “Curse Elrond. My patience is lost.”

Boromir drew a sharp breath as the blade nicked his flesh and Alisceon knew there was nothing else she could do but obey. One last sweep around the room showed her nothing in the way of a weapon. “Stop,” she whispered, looking at tloorloor. “I’ll do it.”

Legolas drew back, the motioned her forward with the dagger. His eyes told her he would not accept anything but submission, so she got to her knees. Moving forward, she avoided Boromir’s eyes as she reached trembling fingers for his belt. “I’m sorry,” she told him low, rewarded with a warning nudge to her hip by Legolas’s boot.

Once the pants were open the Elf drew her back and crouched by her side. He pet her gently, looking into her face a he he lamented having to force this upon her. “You must learn there is no escape, Niriel. You and the King will be broken. If you take pleasure in this act, I will beat you.”

He stood up and reached for Boromir, causing her to panic momentarily, thinking he had changed his mind. But then she saw he was cutting the cloth from his mouth. Once it fell Boromir was very vocal of his hate, hissing, “You Elvish bastard! I promise you one day I will be standing over your corpse with a bloody blade in my fist.”

Legolas did not dignify that with any retort. He gripped the back of Alisceon’s hair and dragged her to Boromir’s lap, ordering in a flat voice, “Prepare him.”

At first she wasn’t sure what to do. She had never been forced onto a man like this. Boromir’s breath was coming fast as though he were as nervous as she. It drew more tears from her eyes. Her stomach was in knots as she reached into his pants and began stroking him softly, stirring his half-ready length until it was complete. When she pulled him from his pants he hissed a breath and held it.

“Open your mouth, pretty,” Legolas urged, shoving her head forward.

She did as she was told. As the tip passed into her mouth she tasted a sudden saltiness that mher her stop. Legolas saw her hesitation and let her hair go. But what could have been an act of mercy, was one of cruelty. His hand found the back of her throat and without care he shoved her forward as far as he could, forcing Boromir’s length into the back of her throat.

Boromir tensed and held back a groan as she struggled in his lap, momentarily taken by surprise and unable to breathe. Legolas had no mercy even then, letting up on the pressure, only to shove her back down again in a terrible, quick rhythm. Alisceon fumbled for a grip to brace herself on, finally clasping Boromir’s pants tightly as she accepted the act she was being forced to perform.

Alisceon tried very hard, but each and every sound of pleasure Boromir made pierced her hearing. It made her feel ashamed, though she could fault him none. She had given in to taking pleasure from being raped. Why should he not? Soon Legolas left her to do the work. He held her down to the new King’s hips, but allowed her to set her own pace once he saw she was cooperating.

She wrapped her tongue around his hardness and let go, allowing herself to do this without stopping to cry or despair. His breath was coming fast and as she stroked her tongue against him faster she could tell he was coming close. It filled her with fear, for she knew what was coming. Legolas pushed her down closer as if to affirm what he would force her to endure.

It came like a hot rush. Boromir groaned hard, his thighs tense and his head back. His fingers dug into the chair arms and Legolas saw she took in every last bit of Boromir’s climax. When he let go she pulled away from the Lord of Gondor and covered her face, not sure she could face either of them now. Tears streamed her cheeks and she found she did not care anymore what anyone thought. It hurt too much.

Legolas crouchgaingain and pet her hair gently, whispering, “Si, mûl, thelon maelvreged le an lîn melethron ceno. (Now, slave, I will rape you for your lover to see.)”

“Don’t you touch her, you bastard!” Boromir yelled, jerking in his chair. His eyes held a deadly fire as he glared Legolas down. “So help me, whelp of Sauron, you will regret your birth.”

The Elf smiled his amusement, stroking Alisceon’s cheek as he spoke. “Ah, but just a moment forcing myself into her body makes my birth worth any pitiful attempt you will make to punish me. Your time is coming, Boromir of Gondor. You will one day be as dark as I, or be dead.”

There was no doubt in his voice when Boromir hissed, “Never!”

Legolas again took to ignoring him. He shoved Alisceon towards the bed and her hands curled in anticipation of what was to come. Everything in her being screamed for her to fight this, to kill or be killed before suffering further humiliation. She would rather die than endure him any longer, a choice that drove her to act. Turning on him, Alisceon rushed forward and threw herself down on him, balling her fists and hitting him anywhere and everywhere, relentlessly and heedlessly. The Elf was surprised by this and at first was subject to her abuse, but all too soon she saw his eflasflash.

Suddenly she was knocked off him. Alisceon had not seen the blow come, but felt her jaw throbbing as she hit the hard floor. It was dizzying, but part of her rejoiced that now he would be angry with her, now he might kill her. But Elves were ages old and infinitely patient. By the time Legolas sat up and came to her side, the fury had been burned out and replaced by firm intent.

“Try that again and I will give you to Haldir. He will not care to see you half-dead by the time he is through,” he said sharply, reaching for her.

He forced her to her feet and dragged her back to the bedside, standing behind her. “I would rather endure him than you,” Alisceon hissed, making another move towards escape.

Legolas laughed and wrapped his arms around hers, holding so tight she could scarcely breathe. “You want Haldir because you believe you can goad him into killing you. He is an animal, but he is no fool. He would assume torment you by giving you to half of Rivendell as kill you, foolish girl. You will endure my punishment!”

He let her go and gripped the shoulders of the sheer dress, ripping it from her as she struggled. Her refusal to cooperate won her a vicious slap that sent her back to the bed and there she decided she could take no more. It was too much. He pulled the cloth down her body and threw it to the floor, then wasted no time in jerking her to her feet. His air he panted for and his hair was a mess, but the sheer will to hurt her burned ethe the brighter in his hot gaze.

She would have asked him what he was doing, but he acted too quickly, made impatient by the fight. He turned her to face the bed, then shoved her down on her stomach, draping her legs off the side of the mattress. Alisceon gripped the sheets and tried to climb higher, rewarded by rough hands at her hips that repositioned her to his liking.

His boot stung her ankles as he kicked her legs apart, then braced himself with his hand on the small of her back. His weight bearing down on her like that caused her to squirm beneath him as he opened his pants. “In the forest you much enjoyed Boromir being violent towards you. Therefore I will give you the pleasure you so desire.”

His entry was swift and sharp, causing her to draw her legs together and close her eyes. Legolas inhaled a deep breath and surged forward again, causing her to moan out in pain. “Yes, mûl, writhe for me.”

“Alisceon.” The voice was pained and caused her to shed more tears. She couldn’t reply to his gentle beckon. “Do not listen to him.”

Legolas forced himself inside her deeply, groaning low when she whimpered out at the painful intrusion. “Mathich nin nedh le? (Do you feel me inside you?)” he whispered raggedly.

“You will be stronger than this,” Boromir continued in a commanding tone. She wondered if he was watching this happen to her.

The Elf snaked his arm beneath her belly, grasping at a breast to desecrate with his touch. He slid his fingers up around the hardened center, pinching hard enough to make her whimper and paw at the bed, trying to get away from the touch. In dark tones he continued speaking pleasured utterances in his own tongue. “Dâr naegro? (Does it hurt?)”

“Please, do not despair, Alisceon.”

The rape was brutal. Legolas shoved his hips against her without care that each movement ravaged her, made her feel as though she were dying inside. She lay limp against the mattress, soaked in sweat that heightened her senses as he slid his hand across her body, caressing with ease even as he used her harshly. His breathing and groaning filled her ears until with a final cry he fell against her heavily.

She didn’t move; couldn’t. Exhaustion swept across her form to the point she could not even cry. He was warm on top of her, heavy and all too present. “Do not make me use such violence again,” he pleaded softly, laying small kisses against her bare back. “Please, meleth.”

Alisceon curled in against the lips pressing into her shoulder, nipping gently. He drew himself up on the bed and draped an arm across her, nuzzling her back and resting against it. Boromir was silent and she wasn’t sure whether or not to be thankful for it. Not that it mattered. She was too tired to care. Perhaps if she lay still with her eyes closed she might slip into a dream and never wake up.

*

Daylight broke through the drapes, unwelcome and cold. It fell upon her face, stirring her until she ultimately decided she would not fall back into blessed sleep. Alisceon opened her eyes and looked across from her to the window. A tree branch swayed within her vision ugh ugh the gap between the drapes. It was so very quiet, so quiet and so warm. She pulled thenketnket over her naked shoulder and stared out at freedom.

Her body was sore and when she thought of the reason why it made her feel sick. She could see hear the sounds, the whisperings and groanings that the Elf had filled her hearing with. It made her sick and angry to imagine the pleasure he must have felt while using her.

Sniffing, sitting up and wiping her cheeks as a few unbidden tears of hate found her eyes, Alisceon looked around to see if Boromir had been left with her. The chair was empty. The room that had beisheisheveled by her struggles last night looked as though nothing had taken place here except sleep. It filled her with contempt. Not that she wanted the evidence of her abuse laying around, but that he would treat this as if nothing had happened…it was cold.

Alisceon drew the sheet around and and held it as she got out of bed on shaky legs. She ached all over with every step as she moved towards the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, disappointed there was no lock, she rested against the door and took several deep breaths. It was a serene setting, plants placed near the generous tub, detailed architecture that was lovely to behold. Yet the spirit of the room was not peaceful. By a large mirror she saw a basin filled with water, presumably for her use. Yet she dreaded to see her own reflection.

“He can’t win,” she whispered, pushing herself up from the door. She brushed her hair back and faced the mirror. What she saw made her let out a long breath. Bruises marred her flesh, marking midnight kisses on her throat and shoulders. She looked pale and her hair was mussed. The vision made her consider forsaking the idea of grooming in favor of returning to bed. But then she pictured those flashing blue eyes, angry and impatient.

The water was cool when she dipped her hands in and brought it over her face. It refreshed her, washed away the salt of her tears and made the ache in her head lessen, if only a little. She moistened her hair back with it and reached for a nearby brush, smoothing away tangles.

She did not look forward to leaving the bathroom, but five minutes after she had completed getting ready for whatever the day would bring her she knew she could not remain in here. If anything she should be searching his room for weapons.

The handle felt chilly against her palms. Turning it, she slowly opened the door. When she stepped in he was there, standing as though waiting for her. Her heart pounded as he came to her, eyes serene and lips tilted in a smile. “Ai, Niriel,” he whispered, wrapping his arm around her neck and forcing her to accept his kiss. His lips brushed hers as those blue eyes gazed into hers. He stole the breath from her slowly, keeping her locked in his embrace as he forced his tongue into her mouth.

Alisceon felt dizzy with need for breath, pressing her hands against his shoulders and pushing, but he was too strong. Seeing her distress, however, moved him to mercy. He let go and pulled back, brushing the back of his fingers down her jaw. “I have brought you a gift.”

Her heart sank as he took her hand, pulling her towards the bed. There was a new dress there, dark blue and lovely. She did not want to wear it. “I think I’ll stay here,” she told him, praying it would not incur his wrath. “I don’t want to wear that.”

He looked unhappy with her refusal, his eyes losing a part of that shine he had entered with. “You wish for me to be hard on you,” he assumed, nodding.

Alisceon backed away from him, clutching the sheet hard as if it would ensure it remained on her, covering her from his vision. She balled her other hand into a fist. “No, I don’t want that. You know I don’t.”

His expression sharpened, his tone growing dark as it had last night. “Then you should submit. I told you that I meant to break you, Niriel. It is up to you how painful or how quickly that can occur. Now drop the sheet.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, looking down at the royal blue gleaming up at her.

Legolas gripped the fine cloth in his hand and came to her, jerking her close. “What does it matter where we are going? It is rude to decline the gift of a Prince of Mirkwood.” He squeezed her fist until it opened from the pain, then shoved the dress into her care.

She turned away from him, conscious that he was watching her as she let the sheet drop. The dress was soft and went on easily, but needed tying in the back. Noticing, Legolas came behind her and took the strings, tightening them for her. She could see his reflection in a mirror opposite them, his eyes on the task at hand. Whatever good his mood had held was gone now. He was nervo
D
Despite that she would not allow the question on her heart to go unanswered. She needed to know what had happened while she had slept. “Where is Boromir?”

The Elf finished tying the dress and turned her around, inspecting her appearance. “Boromir is where Lord Elrond wishes him to be. That is all you ever need know.” He brought his sapphire watch to her face, looking cold and uncaring. His hand found hers for him to lead her away, but he did not move without first speaking his mind. “You are mine. The only way you will stop being mine is if you are dead and I do not plan to allow that to happen any time soon.”

A sudden retort came to her lips as she watched him stand there, toying with her fingers. “You really hate living, don’t you? You miss the light so much you would prevent anyone else from having it if you cannot.”

Legolas looked up softly, his dark eyes sorrowed. His voice seemed low as he said, “Suggest that again, Niriel, and I will huou iou in ways that will haunt your dreams until the day death takes you as a friend.” He threw her hand down and shoved her towards the door. “As to where we are going, you must eat. You will not be allowed to die until I say.”

Alisceon crossed her arms and walked to the door, avoiding eye contact with him as much as she could. He forced her into the hallway and kept her at his side as they traversed lonelonely hallways. She did not know what time it was, but all hours seemeab aab and dark.

The Hall of Fire was warm and lively. The great fireplace that never burned out was surrounded by various Elves that lounged, having their midday meals. She mused that perhaps it looked no different than the lighter years had looked. If she had been brought up here one of the maidens sitting there, enjoying a laugh with the youth beside her, may have been her. She may have fallen to darkness with them, not forced to live beneath the abuse of them. As it was the Elves seemed to look on her in contempt.

Legolas did not lead her there, but to a table where the Lord of Rivendell sat, clad in dark purple. His sons wore the color of blood. Then she noticed. Beside Elladan was Éowyn, her eyes averted to the table. Suddenly Alisceon felt very ill.

She looked up when Legolas pulled a chair out for her to sit in across from her cousin. Éowyn looked sad and frightened, but grateful to see her alive. “Alisceon,” she whispered, but could not continue. Elladan’s frown conveyed enough warning to keep her silent.

“Good day to you,” the blond Elf greeted the elder of the table, bowing. He took a seat beside Alisceon, folding his napkin across his lap as a plate was brought to him. Alisceon looked down at the food given her, thinking it smelled good, but her stomach was in knots. She saw Haldir watching her from where he sat beside Éowyn.

Elrond frowned, swirling his wine glass around. “Would that such would be the case,” he said dryly.

Legolas took a bite, then set his fork down to force Alisceon’s into her hand as though she were a child. He said nothing, but his eyes promised pain if she did not eat. “What troubles you, my Lord? Surely not the new King of Gondor.” His amusement flickered from her face to Elrond’s.

The Lord of Rivendell shook his head, his gray eyes far away as he gazed out a nearby window. “No, it is not him. It is Lord Celeborn that vexes me. He is on his way here. I received word this morning.”

The Elves seated at the table looked at their leader. Elladan shook his head. “Grandfather comes here? Why? Surely not to fight.”

The conversation diminished into a sea of the Elvish language, which neither Éowyn nor Alisceon understood. Using the distraction of the Elven Princes, her cousin mouthed, “Are you all right?”

Alisceon nodded, taking a bite when Legolas looked at her. When he was satisfied, she said silently, “You?”

Her cousin answered affirmatively. She took a drink, then whispered, “Did you see Boromir?”

A flood of images raced into her thoughts, things that made her cheeks redden. She and Éowyn were close, but she could never tell her those things. “No,” she replied, looking away.

As the lunch dwindled down to a close, Legolas looked at her plate, tempting Alisceon to hurl it into his face. He nodded and smiled softly, touching her cheek. “Very good, meleth. You please me. You may take your cousin and speak with her. We will not be finished here for some time.” Eager to get away, Alisceon was out of her chair quick, but his hand caught hers. He kissed it and there was fire in his eyes.ut tut tonight I will glory in your flesh. Think carefully on how you wish to receive me.”

She jerked her hand away and turned into her cousin’s sorrowed expression. Éowyn drew her across the room to a window they found locked. Sighing, the Rohan Princess looked up and touched Alisceon’s hair. “Tcallcall Boromir king. Then Aragorn is dead.”

Alisceon nodded, watching Éowyn’s eyes dull. “What happened when they caught you?” she asked, not sure she wanted the answer.

“They killed the guards,” the blond answered, looking across the room. “They kept me up late, asking me questions about Gondor’s activities and where things stood in Rohan. They told me if I did not talk you would be killed. There wasn’t much to tell anyway. They know Gondor has fallen.”

“What are they planning?”

Éowyn bit her lip, shaking her head softly. “Who can know? Alisceon, we must escape and warn Éomer. These Elves could finish what Sauron has already begun. I heard Lord Elrond talking to him through that ring he wears. Things are falling apart around here quickly and soon they will have abandoned any dignity they have left.”

Bitterly, Alisceon shot a glare at the blond Prince sitting across the room with his dark-haired companions. He was talking with Haldir, smiling wickedly at some jest. “What dignity?” she hissed, seeing none in a people that would allow such brutality as she had endured. “I hate them. I hate all of them.”

“I know.” Éowyn crossed her arms over her chest and traced the floor with her bare foot. “But things could be worse. Elrond fights Sauron, I heard him defy the Dark Lord. That is what keeps us well enough. But it will not last. Elladan, he speaks of perversions unlike anything I have ever imagined. Alisceon, I am afraid that when they lose the war with Sauron…”

It was hard to hear her cousin speak in such tones. It was hard because she understood all to well. “What should we do? What can we do?”

She answered without hesitation. “I am going to seduce Lord Elladan.” Éowyn said it so firmly, her voice revealing such scorn, that it kept Alisceon from laughing at such an audacious suggestion.

ningning her eyes, the half-Elf grabbed her cousin by the arm and drew her ear closer, conscious the Elves had supreme hearing. “You had better be joking,” she said hard. “Do not give that Elven dog any victory over you.”

Éowyn shoved her away with a dark expression. “We use the weapons we are given, Cousin. Do you think I would take pride in it? I will do as I must to gain knowledge. Last night I fought him and earned nothing but pain. But as he held me after he whispered of his troubles, his fears. He did that only because I was too tired to deny listening. He told me they intend to let Boromir live, to break him.”

Alisceon glared hotly, unable to believe her ears. It made her feel sick inside to hear such things. “I think you’re a fool, Éowyn. Do not expect me to do the same!” She turned towards the window, away from having to see her cousin. Suddenly she felt more nervous inside than she had when confronting Legolas. The idea of it was disgusting.

A hand rested against her shoulder, squeezing gently. “I do not expect that. I know not if I can, though I see no other choice to make. We must find out where Boromir is.”

Outside a golden leave fell from a tree near the mansion. Alisceon watched it flutter down towards the ground, twisting and turning with the breeze. She could hear Legolas speaking his soft tongue to his companions, his tone grave and uncertain. She knew not who this Elf was that came to Rivendell, but the more that came to be blackened the more there were standing between she and Rohan.

“Éowyn, come.” The tone made Alisceon seethe inside and she turned to glare at the raven-haired Elf that beckoned the Rohirrim Princess as though she were a slave. He stood his ground under her gaze, his gray eyes issuing a challenge. Over his shoulder she could see Legolas watching with mild interest.

There was nothing she could do, so she turned away from Lord Elladan, Legolas and Éowyn’s sad eyes. Another few leaves fell as footsteps retreated away from her. She did not remain alone long, however. It was as if she could feel his approach and it caused her to want to lash out, do anything to escape this. When his hand fell against her shoulder where Éowyn’s had lain, she jerked away.

Legolas persisted, pressing himself against her back uncomfortably close. His arms came around her waist as he pinned her against the windowsill and he rested his chin down on her shoulder close to her ear. “So prideful. So angry. I was that way in the beginning. Do you know what Elrond did to me?” He squeezed her abdomen when she failed to show interest.

“What?” Alisceon snapped, drawing her ear away from his seeking tongue. Not that she cared—she would have blessed Elrond for killing him had that been the case.

The Elf’s voice went dark and bitter. “He humiliated me before his people, for shame is the delight of Sauron. I was whipped as though I were a mere child.” He kissed her cheek and his hand began a hungry rhythm against her pelvis, ing ing inward and down to caress the flesh beneath her flimsy blue dress. “But you know something, Niriel? It worked. It is what ultimately led me to the knowledge that against Sauron I am but a child. Perhaps I should do the same to you.”

Alisceon bit her lip, glaring out the window as he continued touching her. “Yousicksick,” she whispered, shoving at his wrist.

He jerked her closer into him, forcing his hand down her cheek possessively. “Is that what it will take to tame you? Shall I throw you down here and now?” Legolas took in a breath and she could almost see him smiling darkly. “Look at them, meleth. Look at my people.”

She set her jaw, fighting her fears and hatreds. Slowly she slid her gaze towards the group of Elves conversing by the fire. The youth had abandoned the place in favor of allowing the Elf Lords to retreat there for their discussion. They paid her no mind, none save Haldir, who watched with a smirk. “Don’t do this,” she hissed, tearing her gaze away.

Les pus pulled from her back and she would have missed the heat had the cold any less promise of dignity over remaining in his arms. He came around beside her, those dark eyes smoldering in anger. “Perhaps beating you here would suffice, for all would know well enough what would happen when I removed you from the room. I could take you to the terrace that they may hear you screaming for mercy.”

Under that hard gaze she felt trapped as a mouse cornered by a snake. She would have struck out, but she knew he was waiting for that. He wanted her to defy him that he could do just what he was suggesting and throw it in her face that she caused it. So, instead she said low, “You don’t have to do that.”

His eyes flashed and he came nearer, never moving his unblinking gaze her hers. “And why should I not?”

She crossed her arms to put distance between them, a gesture he recognized and moved to remedy until she stopped him with her hand on his chest. “Because there is no need. Do as you will, Legolas, but if you do it will be your choice. You cannot justify this by intimidating me until I strike out that you may do as you lust for. If you really want to hurt me, at least have the courage to do it without trying to tempt me into defiance.”

Legolas nodded softly, gazing at her hand on him. A half-smile spread across his lips as he reached for it, touching her fingers with the tips of his. “Forgive me, meleth. I have remembered myself now.” He brought her hand up, kissing it gently. “You may do as you like. I would have you roam e hae halls freely. By moonrise I will look for your company.” A suggestive expression written beneath the veil of his gentility and a squeeze to her hand suggested he would not be pleased if he failed to find her.

The Elf Prince let her go and left without another word. Rattled, Alisceon turned towards the nearest exit that was free of Elves to escape their insufferable presense. His touch lingered on her and thinking on Éowyn’s words made it a burn to her flesh.