Out of the Safety of the Woods

Title: Out of the Safety of the Wood

Authors: No Tears, with a considerable amount of help from Dollrandir

Summary: Making their way back into Mirkwood, Legolas and Naruhitu are
attacked, and Legolas is taken captive while Naruhitu is left for
death.

Rating: NC-17 in later chapters

Warning: Violence/torture, bdsm, rape, and all that good stuff. I've
decided to go further into this fic and explore the realm where
Legolas is in a non-consensual Master/Slave relationship. Eventual
slash!

Pairing: *Eventually* Legolas/others (all OCs)

Disclaimer: We don't own anything made by Tolkien! Naruhitu, however,
belongs to Dollrandir. All the other icky bad guys are mine!

Part 6: Further Despair

Legolas remained still as he was scrubbed by the servants, his eyes
distant as he tried to imagine himself to be anywhere but here. Which
was considerably difficult, considering the intense thirst he was
feeling coupled with the shackles whose short chain was connected to
a ring that forced him to kneel and kept his hands securely before
him. That, and also the guards whose mocking laughter and lustful
glances which caused shudders of fury to run through his body.

Letting out a slow and shaky breath through his mouth, Legolas
clenched his hands into fists and closed his eyes. The scent of the
water was nearly overpowering, and his throat seemed to become even
more dry. He had been threatened by one of the guards that if he even
dared to try and drink it he would be gagged. So all he could do to
avoid punishment was sit there and try to suppress the furious snarls
working their way up his throat at the laughter he was receiving for
his debasement.

Soft cloths wet with warm water ran up and down his back. One of the
servants moved around the bath and began to wipe the cloth across his
face. Legolas knew that the people cleaning him were as much
prisoners as he, that they had no choice but to do their lord's
bidding. Despite this, he could not hold back the glare that shot out
at the woman cleaning his face. He caught himself and softened his
gaze, but not before she saw the anger in his eyes. The woman froze
in fear, then after a moment backed up and hurried out of the hall.
The other servants paused in their cleaning, and Legolas furiously
berated himself for his rash action.

The feelings of hopelessness and fear were gnawing sharply at his
heart after having spent time in the kennel. He could not deny it to
himself and he did not try to. But he would not simply give in to
these people, and so he used as much of the fear as possible to fuel
his rage and hate. The anger overrode sorrow and fear, giving him
reason to continue fighting.

Suddenly, a hand was grasping a handful of his golden hair, and then
he was being forced to look up into the dark eyes of the one who had
forced him into this degrading situation.

"Well, well, well!" Dantar's voice made Legolas grit his teeth in
vexation. "We meet again, Elfling! And it looks like your stirring up
trouble already among the other servants. You'd best start to behave
yourself, slave."

"I am no slave." Legolas spat.

"Ah, but you are." the red haired man said. "Not a willing one, at
least, not now. That too, shall change eventually."

Legolas's eyes sparked with ferocity, and he could barely contain
himself from attempting to lunge at the man. "I would rather die."

Dantar's eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "Is that so?" he
asked. "Well, I have news for you, Elfling." He bent so that his face
was mere inches from Legolas's, using his free hand to grab the Elf's
chin in a firm grip. "If you stay defiant, what you shall go through
will, in fact, be worse than death. I can guarantee it."

Legolas believed every word of it, but he would not surrender himself
to the other man's gaze. He was not beaten yet, and he was wanted as
a slave and not dead. His father would dispatch Elves to search for
him eventually. In the mean time, he would do everything he could to
find a way to escape. He would not give up on hope.

`A plague on you.' Legolas hissed in Sindarin. `May your death be
long and painful and your rotting carcass become carrion for the
worms and crows.'

It was clear that Dantar hadn't the slightest clue of what Legolas
had just said, but judging from the tone he knew it was either an
insult or a threat. His ire rising, he gave the Elf's hair a
particularly painful jerk, before releasing it and giving the
prisoner a violent backhand that sent Legolas falling awkwardly onto
his back. Water rushed over his face and he accidentally inhaled
some, which caused him to go into a coughing fit as he struggled to
sit himself up again. He wiped the water and hair back from his eyes
after his coughing subsided and glared at Dantar, who returned the
expression in kind.

The taste of water in Legolas's mouth immediately caught his
attention and he felt his body cry out for more of the precious
liquid. Using a great deal of willpower, Legolas restrained his urge
to drink and continued to glare at Dantar.

"Do not cross me, slave. I was not lying before when I told you I
know how to make an Elf scream." A smirk formed over the man's
face. "Speaking of which, I heard you were recently acquainted with
the kennel." He chuckled a bit at the flash of consternation in the
young prince's eyes at his words. "Yes, as you've probably guessed
now, it was because of I that you were placed there. Do you know how
I came up with the amount of time to keep you imprisoned? It was one
day for each action of rebellion you commenced before your master.
One day for denying him in his throne room. One day for speaking
defiantly to him in his chambers. And one day for resisting him when
he kissed you. Faregon is to alert me of any defiance you give, and
you will be justly punished for it."

"Justly?" Legolas hissed bitterly.

"Yes," Dantar insisted, "justly. You are a slave now by law. All of
the forms have been signed, all of the right people informed. Even if
you do manage to escape – unlikely – you would be searched out
immediately and found."

"No laws of Elves are these!" the prince said, his mind reeling with
the information. "You cannot keep me here!" He jerked once against
the chains holding him down.

"Ah ah." Dantar admonished, holding up his hand. "Two hours in the
kennel for that show of disrespect."

Legolas couldn't help his jaw dropping for a second as his eyes
filled with fear at the thought of being returned to that dark
place. "You are mad." the prince grated, now shaking with rage.

"Four hours." Dantar said, folding his arms as he began to circle
Legolas. "By all means, continue with this. Personally, I am curious
to see how long you can keep up your strength without food. Without
water." Now behind the prince, the man bent down to whisper into one
pointed ear. "Without anything at all but the crushing walls and
choking silence around you."

Legolas let out an involuntary shudder as the feeling of being
trapped jumped clear into his mind with the words. He did not think
he could go through with the ordeal of being in the kennel for that
long again. And Dantar was right – his thirst was escalating and it
would not be long before his dehydrated body would begin to heighten
its cries for replenishment until he would be unable to do anything
to ignore it.

"I trust you are done?" Dantar asked, his eyes hard when he came to
stand before Legolas once more. The prince looked up at the man, the
gaze still holding defiance and anger but with an underlying tone of
defeat. This side of Dantar was dangerous, and he realized he would
have to act with utmost wariness around the man. Averting his gaze to
the water below him, the Elf slowly nodded once.

"Very well," the man continued. He looked to the guards
nearby. "Prepare the slave for another period of confinement in the
kennel."

Legolas's eyes widened and shot back up to Dantar, who smiled
indifferently. "One thing you must learn, slave, is that I withdraw
no promise of punishment. If I say it shall be done, it will be done."

No... Legolas frantically looked about at the four men approaching
him, thrashing as they laid hands upon his upper body. Someone
grabbed his jaw and attempted to pry pen pen at the hinges just as he
saw the cruel ball gag dangled before his face. He clenched his jaw
and fought harder, felt hands grasping his hair and shoulders harshly
to keep a hold on his slippery wet body. The fingers on his jaw
increased their pressure relentlessly, until he felt tears welling up
in his eyes from the pain.

Over the sounds of the struggle he heard Dantar call out, "Six hours."

As soon as the words reached Legolas he froze, his heart hammeriwithwith adrenaline and desperate fear. His eyes, large and blue, looked
to Dantar, dismay and shock filling their depths.

The man's expression was absolutely apathetic. "How much longer do
you wish for?"

Choking back a sob, the prince shut his eyes tightly, allowing them
to force the gag in his mouth and secure it in place. His jaw gave a
spasm of pain as the leather ball forced it wide, and Legolas shut
his eyes even tighter at the sensation.

This could not be happening. It was simply a nightmare and he was
going to wake up soon and find himself in his safe, warm bed in
Mirkwood.

"Now the hood."

Please, no... Legolas opened his eyes to gaze helplessly at the
black hood being brought forth. Fearful of being sentenced to even
more hours, the prince only weakly tossed his head to the side as
they moved to force it over him. Darkness descended and he choked
back a whimper as he felt someone fumbling with it andn a n a moment
later the cloth tightened against his neck. The fabric clung to his
wet face, making it harder to breathe and he could already feel
claustrophobia set in.

Hands were everywhere on him, holding his body down and restraining
his arms with hurting hands as they unlocked his wrists from their
bonds. Not a moment later his arms were wrenched around and behind
his body and locked into place. His shoulders ached in protest as
they were made to resume the position they had taken up for such a
long period of time. A pair of hands wrapped around each of his arms
and hauled his dripping body out of the tub, pulling him out of it
and forcing him along as his heart pounded in growing dread.

Behind him, he heard Dantar's voice. "I shall see you in some hours,
dear slave. Enjoy the darkness."

He was brought along several corridors, and then into a chill room
which he could feel immediately was the one which held the kennel. He
renewed his desperate struggles as he felt himself pushed further
into the room, but dehydration made him weaker than usual. Strong
hands on his shoulders pressed him to his knees, and he felt bonds
clamp over his ankles once more. Someone grabbed the back of his neck
and held his head down while others held his bound arms and pushed
his torso towards the kennel.

Dread coursed through him when he realized they meant to push him in
there in that hunched position. He would be immobile and bent over
for half a day, with nothing to ease his cramped muscles or back, no
room to stretch. The thought spurred him to thrash once more, to at
least try to get them to put him into a more comfortable position.
His attempts were fruitless, as they always were. Bound and helpless,
the prince was unwillingly forced inside to face his punishment. He
felt his shoulder pressed into one side of the kennel and as absolute
fear overtook him he gave a single desperate wail before the door was
slammed on his other side.


********


"Father!"

Faregon glanced up from a trade agreement he had been going over to
see his young daughter rushing over to his side, excitement
glittering in her green eyes. As soon as she reached him she launched
herself up so she was sitting on his legs and facing him.

Faregon laughed at her show of youthful energy. "Hello, Thaerwyn!" He
placed his large hand on her delicate shoulders, holding her back and
looking over her.

She was clad in a silk blue dress and her black hair was bound up by
ties that bore blue gems in them. A necklace of silver hung from her
pale neck, a large sapphire coming to rest against her collarbone.
She was eight years old, and the life and vigor of her youthfulness
was clearly reflected in her face.

"My beautiful daughter." Faregon murmured, pulling the child into an
embrace that she responded to in kind. "Where is your sister?" he
asked as he pulled her back to look at her once more.

A scowl came over the young one's face at this, and she raised her
chin. "She almost got into the potions again today in the healer's
room. Nadraen is angry with her."

Faregon's eyebrows rose at this information. Kaswyn, his youngest
daur, wr, was only a little more than a year old and was prone to
escape the clutches of her caretakers and go to explore and get into
messes, as are many children at that age. *Something may happen to
her one of these days.* he thought. *She just might get hold of what
she's after.*

"And where is she now?" Faregon asked, repeating his question.

"Sleeping." Thaerwyn said simply. "She got worn out from running from
the ninnies."

"Nannies, sweetheart." Faregorreorrected, although the former word
may have very well described that bunch of women just as well. He
could not fathom how they managed to keep losing Kaswyn.

"And what have *you* been doing?" Faregon asked then, grinning at
Thaerwyn as she bounced a little in his lap.

Directing her eyes towards the ceiling, the young girl replied
slowly. "Sitting in my room and painting like a good girl." It was a
rehearsed answer, and one she had used many times. Then she lowered
her voice an octave and continued in a snotty fashion, "Because it's
dreadfully stormy outside and if I go to the stables I might get my
dress dirty or catch cold."

"Now, now." Faregon chuckled, pulling her so her face was closer to
his. "I don't really sound like that, do I?"

She nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin on her face. "You *like*
sounding like that, father." she said.

"Do I, now?" A mischievous glint appeared in Faregon's eyes and he
pressed his nose against hers. "And do you know what else I like to
do?"

Thaerwyn was giggling softly now. "What?"

"I like to...tickle!" And with that he immediately began running the
tips of his fingers all over his daughter's body until she was
shrieking with laughter and writhing all over the place. Faregon was
laughing heartily as he continued his relentless attack until a
cleared throat interrupted them.

Looking up, the man saw Dantar standing he ehe entrance to the room,
his arms folded. "Lord Faregon, I've come to inform you that I've had
the Elf placed in the kennel again."

Thaerwyn glanced at the other man, then turned back to her father
with curious eyes. "An Elf?" she asked, eyes full of inquiry.

Faregon's face darkened momentarily as he stared at Dantar, then
softened when he turned back to his daughter. "Thaerwyn, would you
please go check on your sister while I have a talk with Dantar?"

The girl nodded slowly, a sad light entering her eyes as she slid off
of his lap and then hurried out of the room, gazing warily at Dantar
as she exited. Once he was sure his daughter was well out of hearing
range, Faregon stood and turned to the slave trader.

"What were you thinking?!" he hissed, advancing on the other man.

"What do–"

"Do not ask me that!" Faregon interrupted. "You will speak nothing of
the Elf around my daughters. Nothing! They do noed ted to know what
activities of which their father partakes in his absence."

"You are not going to tell them?" Dantar asked.

"The Elf is to be kept secret from them. If they found out that I am
keeping him then they will grow curious and want to find out more
about the creature. I do not want to risk my children getting near
that beast!"

"Beast?" Dantar asked, his eyebrows rising in surprise at such a
description of the elven prince.

"He may be the most beautiful creature I have ever seen, Dantar, but
I know that if given the opportunity he would not hesitate to harm my
daughters. He is dangerous."

"I see." the slave trader murmured. "I understand. My apologies, Lord
Faregon."

"Just as long as you remember next time. Now, what were you saying?"

"The Elf is in the kennel." Dantar said, unfolding his arms.

"So soon?" Faregon asked, feeling a little disappointed but not
outwardly showing it.

"It willve mve more of a lasting impression on him if done this way.
Elves are not like humans, and in this case that is both good and an
inconvenience. If I had left him to recover from the time spent in
the kennel, his fear of it might diminish. But putting him in it when
the terror of his past experience is clear in his mind will make him
remember it well."

"Will he be broken after this?" Faregon asked.

"No." Dantar said with a shake of his head. "It may seem so for
perhaps more than an hour after his release. But even though his fear
of the kennel is going to surely be great, his spirit will not have
been fully broken. I know you are looking forward to training him
yourself."

"Aye." Faregon smirked. "That is well, then." He turned back to the
table and moved over to sit in the chair once more, picking up the
momentarily forgotten trade agreement. "Has he been fed?"

"No." the other man replied. "But Elves can go very long without
food. It is the thirst I am hoping will wear him down. He appears to
be nearing the desired dehydration level. His skin was pale and he is
getting weaker. But I do not recommend ever fully replenishing him
until he is more well trained."

"So, do you believe he'll be ready for training after this time spent
in confinement?"

"After the six hours I sentenced him to?" Dantar smirked. "Oh yes,
you may train him then."


***********


For the longest time, an eternity it seemed, darkness and pain were
Legolas's world. His entire body never ceased to tremble from the
weariness and aching that plagued them from his painful position. He
could feel the cold stone of the ceiling of the kennel pressing down
upon him, and his neck muscles were wracked with spasms from his head
being forced down. His jaw bone felt like it was on fire from being
stretched for so long, and his throat was so dry that he could not
swallow. He whimpered hopelessly in between intakes of breath, trying
to keep his focus on gathering air into his lungs. His body wanted
nothing more than to collapse and rest, but he would not let
unconsciousness claim him. When it strove to take him under by force
he fought it with all of his might, trying to ignore the way the
sweat dripped down his body and face, making it nearly unbearably
stuffy and hot under the hood. His occasional screams had gradually
diminished until they were no more, his voice no longer able to
create such a sound. The sole thoughts on his mind were to breathe
and to endure. Breathe and endure.

After a long while, the darkness and pain became too much for the
prince, and tears began to run from his eyes in a steady stream. He
cursed him for for being so weak, but could do nothing to control the
sobs that began to sound in his chest. It was simply too much, the
blackness that covered him and the strain on his body that he was
helpless to do anything to ease.

And when he sniffled, he felt panic wash over him as he became aware
of another problem. He was becoming so congested that he couldn't
inhale a sufficient enough amount of air through his nose. The airway
from his mouth was completely blocked by the gag.

Whimpering, Legolas tried hard to writhe his body in its tight
confinement, to drag in air through his nose. His heart hammered
fiercely in his chest as he fought against his bonds and the walls.
Pressing his face against the stone, he frantically rubbed the hood
and gag against it, hoping they would come loose. Neither did, and
with a sickening realization he found he could no longer breathe
through his nose.

He was going to suffocate.