Something Evil This Way Comes

Disclaimer/Author's Notes: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.

***WARNING: RAPE***
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Legolas cried out in rage as Lastharos knelt behind the bound woman and grasped the rounded curves of her bottom in a cruel grip. He leaned over and spoke into her ear and his words would have been inaudible to a mortal, but Legolas’ Elven hearing picked up every one.

“You were so delicious when I took you before. Quite malleable, and able to take a lot of pain. That is a good quality in a slave, especially one who will be expected to see to my needs.”

“You---you have many slaves, my lord. Many more beautiful and talented than me. Why have you gone to all this trouble to seek me out?”

He gripped her hair and pulled her head back painfully. “Because you are mine! I do not let anything go that belongs to me. I bought you and your life is mine to do with as I please. I can kill you if I so desire---and likely, you will die in my service; few of my slaves last more than a few weeks at the most. Still, it is my decision. You are nothing, little slut; simply a tool for my pleasure.”

He removed his belt and unlaced his leggings. Smoothing his hands over her nicely presented rear, he stood, then took the belt and struck her across the curves of her buttocks. She jerked, and gave a faint whimper, but did not scream.

“Stop!” Legolas could not work himself free and his anger grew along with his frustration.

Lastharos glanced at him and smiled. “You will get your turn, Elf. But for now, she will get two more lashes for every time you interrupt me.” He swung the belt twice more, vicious blows that Legolas could see turning a deep red as soon as the leather left the skin. He held his tongue however. The man would simply use it as an excuse to torture the woman further.

The man knelt in front of her, pulling open his leggings and taking out his rigid member. Grabbing her hair, he forced himself into her mouth. Legolas looked away from the woman’s brutal treatment, his stomach churning as he tried not to vomit. Such behavior was intolerable and worse than murder to his kind. The fact that she was the lover of his friend made it that much more horrible.

He tried to shut the sounds of the woman gagging and Lastharos’ cruel laughter, out of his mind. Still, when she let out a squeal, he could not help but look back in time to see the man kneeling behind her, thrusting into her. Legolas did not look to see if he had taken her traditionally or in the alternate path; either way, the brutal rape seemed to go on forever. He prayed that it might end soon so Charika could have some peace. When the sounds finally ceased, he looked up and saw Lastharos refastening his leggings. He walked over to Legolas, his belt still in his hand.

“Did you enjoy that, Elf? Despite all she has endured, she is still deliciously tight no matter where you enter her body. I am surprised,” he said, glancing down between Legolas’ thighs, spread slightly for balance, “Since she has been in the company of your kind that she has remained so, if you are typical of Elven males.”

Legolas managed to meet his gaze with equanimity. Lastharos laughed, then suddenly swung the belt so it struck the Elf across his chest. The blow stung more than it actually hurt, but it had caught one nipple and so was quite startling. Still, Legolas managed to endure the pain without crying out.

The man knelt before him and grasped his chin. “I will hear you beg for mercy before this is over, make no mistake.” He then gave Legolas a sharp backhanded slap across the face before taking out his dagger and walking back over to the silently weeping woman. He stood over her a moment and Legolas feared he was going to kill her. Lastharos knew his thoughts and smiled evilly. He then bent down and used the blade to unlock her bonds, then turned and left the room with his winged companions.

Once the door was closed, the room was silent except for Charika’s quiet sobs. He said nothing for a few moments, letting her cry for a while. He knew sometimes tears helped ease the tension that came from fear and trauma. Finally, he called her name, softly.

“Charika, he is gone. There is no one here but the two of us. You are free. See if you can free my bonds.”

“I cannot,” she said. “He will come back and I must not move from where he left me. That is his rule. He freed me in order to tempt me.”

“But if you are free, he cannot hurt you; you have the chance of getting away.”

“No,” she said in a low voice. “The last time I moved without permission, he killed one of the little boys who brought wine to the chamber. If I move this time, he will kill you.”

“He will not kill me,” Legolas said firmly. “You must come untie my bonds. I cannot free myself.”

She looked over at him with fear-filled eyes. “I do not want him to kill you. He will make it a most unpleasant death.”

Legolas fought to maintain his calm tone. “Charika, come here. He is not going to kill me.”

She sat up on her knees and looked around the room as if expecting Lastharos to appear at any moment. Looking at Legolas, she hesitated for a moment, then ran across the room to where he knelt.

“Thank you, Charika,” he said, as he was finally able to move his arms. The strain on his muscles had been quite painful and he moved his arms a bit to become accustomed to the sensation. As soon as his legs were free, he stood and began looking for anything he could use as a weapon. Charika scampered back to the cushions where she knelt, eyes wide and full of fright.

He looked in each cell, but most were empty. There was one which held several crates, but nothing useful. He had to think; there had to be some way to escape and get Charika to safety. He picked up a length of the leather straps that had bound him. It was better than nothing. Turning, Legolas saw the woman watching him with mingled fear and curiosity.

He walked over and knelt beside her. “Are you injured, my lady?” he asked in a gentle voice. She shook her head.

“I am accustomed to such treatment, my lord,” she said in a small voice. “It is my lot in life.”

“No, it is not,” Legolas said firmly. “No one should be treated in such a manner. Your body is yours to be used how you choose, by whom you choose.” He could see the desire to believe him in her eyes, but it was tempered by years of conditioning and abuse. He put his arms around her and drew her to him, resting her head upon his shoulder. “You are stronger than you think, Charika. We will get through this together, and you will return to Rumil’s arms where you will be safe always.”

He thought of Alexandra and felt their fading bond. He knew his wife was dying. He called out to her with his heart. She could not go yet. It was not her time. Morgoth had told him she was already with Mandos, but he could still feel her, faint, weak, but still present in his heart. He could no longer separate the lies, half-lies and truths in what the Evil One told him. He knew she had never been disloyal to him---that was a definite lie; but he could tell she was passing into the halls of her fathers. He prayed his friends were with her and they would help either to ease her passage, or bring her back. Whatever happened, he could not bear the thought of his wife suffering.

As he held Charika in his arms, he tried to think of a way out of this predicament. If Lastharos was accompanied by his … whatever they were, there was no way Legolas could evade them all and still protect Charika. If the woman were not so submissive, she could be of great help. But she feared Lastharos and seemed to accept that he was her new master. Legolas could not imagine living like that; but then, he had been free all of his life while Charika had been someone’s property for all of hers.

He settled against the cushions with the woman curled up in his embrace. He tried to clear his mind and hoped a solution would present itself before their tormentors returned.