Will of the Valar.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the original characters and their adventures. The Tolkien Estate and New Line Cinema own Middle Earth and its regular denizens.

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Alex was placed in front of Goroth on his horse, Elboron in her uncertain arms. She could smell the Rhunian warlord’s scent: spice and a musky aroma she did not try too hard to identify. Some things she didn’t want to think about.

He held her tightly with one arm and guided his mount with the other. “If you drop the child, it will be you who will suffer,” he whispered, his warm breath against her ear. His tongue darted out and touched her earlobe before nipping it gently with his teeth. She shuddered in revulsion and he laughed softly.

They rode quickly and silently through the darkness of the countryside. She had been surprised that they seemed to simply ride out of the city without generating comment. She could have screamed, but the arm that held her securely also held a knife pressed against Elboron’s vulnerable throat. She did not know enough about her opponent’s capabilities and fighting style to risk challenging him so soon. She did not fear for her own safety, but could not knowingly endanger the child’s without being confident of victory.

Her captors were dressed all in black and rode black horses. Their mounts’ hooves seemed to be muffled as well, since they moved with stealth she had only seen exhibited by Elf-kind. Their language was harsh sounding to her ears and she could not decipher it from the little bit she heard. The men moved in silence and spoke little only after they had cleared the city and any outlying settlements.

Once they passed out of the populated areas of Gondor, the Rhunians did not let up their pace. The warlord put away his knife once the possibility of Alex drawing attention to their plight had passed, so his hand was free to roam. Alex gritted her teeth when it drifted up to caress her breast through the fabric of her gown. He cupped the firm globe and gave it a squeeze. It was not a tender grip, but rather one meant to convey mastery. He was surprised the woman did not cry out or express outrage. He laughed again before giving her nipple a hard pinch through the cloth, then moved his hand back down to her waist, pulling her back against his body.

Alex knew the man was simply trying to intimidate her and ignored him. There wasn’t much he could do to her on horseback besides grope her. But she knew they would have to stop at some point and then, matters could deteriorate.

They rode all night and came to a small camp at midmorning. There were provisions and more Rhunians, and Alex was given a chance to change Elboron’s diapers and feed him. A nanny goat was also in the camp and she was told to acquire some of the milk for the child.

“I do not suppose you have any milk of your own for the babe,” the Rhunian leader murmured as he reached around her from behind and squeezed her breasts again. She gave him a look of silent disdain and he laughed as he walked away. It would have been easier had she been able to produce milk for the baby, she thought. At least she wouldn’t have been forced to learn to milk a damn goat.

The child drank thirstily and Alex talked to him as she held him. She told him stories she remembered from her childhood, sang some Elvish lullabies and tried to keep the baby amused. Anything to keep him from crying. Plus, as long as she was occupied with the child, the men left her alone, for the most part.

They changed horses and rode during the night to a new camp. She was only allowed to feed and change the baby during these stops during the day. To his credit, the child seemed to adapt to the strange feeding and sleep schedule, and he was not a whiny baby, for which Alex was grateful.

Goroth quickly tired of the child coming between him and the woman, so he had the babe placed in a basket that was secured to the saddle behind one of his soldiers. Alex tried to prevent them from taking Elboron, but Goroth pressed a knife against one of the child’s toes and threatened to cut him apart one piece at a time until she stopped defying him. She began to regret her decision to accompany the Rhunians; the threats against the safety of the child were quite effective and she thanked the Valar that she would never have a baby that could be used like Eowyn and Faramir’s child had been used against them. And her.

She was always placed in front of Goroth to ride and his hands became increasingly bolder. He graduated from simply fondling her breasts through her gown, to caressing her thighs underneath her clothing. He drew his knife one night and cut the straps on her underwear and tossed the offending piece of cloth away. She kept her thighs clenched and he sheathed the knife, then drew back and slapped her hard across the face. She did not cry out, but bit back an oath and resisted the urge to take the man’s head off. He slapped her again and jerked her head back by knotting his fingers in her tangled braids.

“Do not test me, lady. I will carve my name into the child so when his father finds his body, he will know who brought an end to his son’s life.”

Alex did not respond. She would not let them hurt the child if at all possible. She believed she could endure rape at the hand of Goroth---even survive the attentions of his men. Physically, she was strong, had a high tolerance for pain and thought she could ignore them enough to get through the experience. But she would have to get away from them at some point---with the child. Her whole reason for being here was the protection of Elboron.



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The scouting party left immediately. Legolas waited with Arwen and Lothiriel as Faramir and Eowyn remained closeted together in their chamber. The Elven prince tried to center himself and regain his calm, but he felt every moment he waited was another moment wasted.

“Does your heart speak to her?” Arwen asked, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

“Yes,” he answered. “I can feel her. But there is fear beginning to creep in. I do not believe it is fear so much for herself as for the child.” He shook his head. “While I understand she went to protect the babe, I cannot help but wish she had not done this.”

“Orophin and Glorfindel have gone ahead and they will find her, Legolas. You will not lose your wife to this madness.”

Faramir came into the room, his face a mask of misery.

“Are we ready to go?” he asked in a dead voice.

Legolas went to his friend and gripped his shoulder. “We have sent Orophin and Glorfindel with some scouts to track them. We will ride behind with the main force. We will find your son, Faramir.”

The Steward nodded and allowed Legolas to lead the way to their waiting horses. They mounted and rode away following the trail left by the scouts. For several days, they rode, always behind the kidnappers. They came across a number of campsites obviously used by the Rhunians, but did not stop.

The Elves could ride without rest, but the men were growing tired. They could not maintain the pace set by the Eldar, so Legolas decided to stop for a night, allowing the weary men to rest.

As he leaned against a rock some distance away from the rest of the party, he heard footsteps approaching. Turning, he saw Faramir walking toward him.

“Forgive me, Legolas. I do not mean to intrude on your thoughts.”

“It is no intrusion, my friend. How are you bearing up?”

“I am doing as well as I can. I feel so … helpless.” He looked off into the distance. “It is such an awful feeling, to know someone you love is helpless and in the hands of someone who holds the power of life and death over them, and they wish your loved one ill.” He gave a bitter laugh. “Of course, I know your people never suffer from these doubts. You are always sure of your abilities to handle any crisis and of your course in life and …” his voice trailed off as he saw the strange look in Legolas’ eyes.

“Is that what Men believe of my people?” Legolas asked curiously. “Do men think we do not have fear? Especially the fear for those we love? Do men think we have no feelings for others?”

“No, my friend. It is just … Elves are always so certain of themselves and their place in the world. And your people always seem to … know the right thing to do. You never seem to suffer from doubt.” Faramir had not meant to offend Legolas. But he believed he spoke the truth.

The Elf considered Faramir’s words. Was his kind seen as cold, arrogant, proud, unemotional? Did men think the Elves incapable of emotion other than benign indifference?

“Legolas, I meant no offense. Please, forgive me if I have said anything hurtful.”

The prince shook his head. “No, Faramir. I simply find it difficult to understand how mortals can be so wrong about us. I know your fears, believe me. While it is not my child at risk, my wife is also in the hands of these men, and I fear greatly for her safety. This is twice she has been taken from me by deceitful men. If she were not mortal herself, I might be inclined to blame her entire race. Believe me, my friend, Elves are not immune to doubt or fear or anger. We simply have more experience dealing with it.”

Faramir put his hand on the Elf’s shoulder. “My own fears have overwhelmed me and I had forgotten the trials you and your lady have endured. I pray to the Valar that she is safely returned to us.”

“Thank you. I believe they will be found unharmed. Alexandra will protect your son.”

“Eowyn said she had had visions, dreams in which danger threatened Elboron and Alexandra was the one who protected him and brought him back to us. That is why she asked your lady to accompany her to Minas Tirith.” He sighed. “I am so sorry your wife is now in harms way because of …”

“Hush, my friend. Do not trouble yourself now. It was the will of the Valar that Alexandra be with them.”

They rode many more miles before stopping to rest again. They had been following the trail for almost a week, the kidnappers having had another week’s advantage before the Elves and Gondorians had arrived from the front.

Legolas sought solitude and concentrated on his bond with Alex. It had remained strong, so he knew she still lived, but the fear she was feeling was growing. He still believed it to be fear from the child. He tried to send her his love, concentrating on their connection. He closed his eyes and let himself sink into the spiritual link they shared.

He was basking in the familiar glow of her love when sudden pain and terror shot through to him. He gasped. Something was horribly wrong. She was in either great pain, great rage or both. He could feel horror and anger and knew that whatever she was being forced to endure would end in bloodshed. Her darkness would come; he could feel the coldness taking over. Then, as if she were there with him, he heard her calling to him.

“Forgive me, Legolas---.” Then nothing. The bond was there but it was as if she were no longer sending anything through it. It was as if she cut it off.

He ran to Arod and swung onto the horse in a smooth motion. “We must go now!” he shouted to his Elven warriors, who followed him quickly. The men scrambled to catch up with the quickly disappearing riders.

They rode into the rising sun and shortly after dawn, a rider from the scouting party met them.

“Lord Glorfindel said to tell you they have spotted a rider they believe to be Lady Alexandra.”

“My son?” Faramir felt his heart drop into his stomach.

The messenger shook his head. “The Elves were unsure. The rider was too far away to say for certain.”

They followed him for several more miles before arriving atop a ridge. They were surprised to find a party of Elves Legolas recognized as his Mirkwood kin, sent by his father. He caught the eye of Findecano, Thranduil’s chief guardian and sent his wordless thanks. Legolas could see Orophin speaking with Alexandra and Glorfindel holding a bundle. He urged Arod on and he and Faramir quickly outdistanced their companions.