Where The Shadows Lie

Thank you Linnet and Bokor!!! You guys rock! I agree, there's nng lng like dark Elvish sexuality...and I do love Legolas as a black-elf. *drool* Thanks!

*

It was well beyond moonrise. Rivendell was as silent as a grave at this hour. Most Elves, she imagined with disdain, were off tending to their darkness. Except two. Alisceon stopped against a tree and panted, listening to the sounds of the forest around her. She could hear footsteps hitting the brush without the use of stealth. Despairing at what to do, she gathered her skirts and took off again, sprinting towards whatever depths she could reach away from Rivendell.

She thought of Éowyn and Boromir as she ran. She knew this could turn out badly, that no matter what happened she may never see either again. But now that there was no choice she could do nothing else but try to run from Rivendell and find help. She had gone too far and it was already too late to turn back.

“I smell your fear, human,” the voice of her pursuer drawled from the shadows. He sounded uncomfortably close. “Come, all I wish is a moment with you.”

He had tried to corner her in the gardens, but she had managed escape into the woods. The house of Elrond wasn’t far enough from her, though. She wondered if there were any guards patrolling and why they had not killed her yet. Perhaps it was a lie and there were none. Perhaps they were amused at the chase going on.

A twig broke near her and taken by surprise, she slipped in the mud to her knees. Cursing, she dragged herself up and brushed her hair from her eyes. The forest was so dark, she could barely see a thing hidden within the shadows. Picking a direction, Alisceon bolted when she heard him pick up his pace.

“Did you not like how I fucked you before?” he asked contritely, laughing afterwards. “Perhaps you would like a different manner? I have heard dirty mortal females enjoy using their mouths. Give me your kiss, human.”

Alisceon stopped in a clearing and looked for a stick, anything to use against him. Her hope of outrunning him was beginning to w On On the ground nearby she spotted what looked to be a fallen branch and ran for it.

She hit the ground hard. Haldir was heavy on top of her, straddling her back as he reached for her wrists. Desperate, Alisceon thrashed hard, knocking him back to the dirt. “You really are asking for it, you know?” He laughed when she took off back towards the mansion. Her heart pounded as he began running after her again. She was beginning to realize there was nothing she could do to get away except find someone that might help her, if for no other reason than to please Legolas.

She heard laughter up in the trees. The Elves were watching this and would do nothing to stop it. She began to feel sick as Haldir’s boots hit the ground closer and closer to her. He would be rough if he caught her, she knew. She could see the lust for pain in his eyes after he had slapped her in the glade of lilies where she had been contemplating what to do about evading Legolas for the night. He would have been all too happy to hurt her more if he had not underestimated her skill and desperation to get away.

The mansion came within view and her pulse raced. She wondered if the guards inside would capture her, seeing her running like this. If she incurred Lord Elrond’s wrath, so be it. As long as it took her away from Haldir. If it took her from the custody of Legolas, so much the better.

Alisceon darted across a log bridge, jumping the last distance and pushing herself up from the earthen floor and towards the home. There were lights ahead.

So hard she concentrated on getting there that she barely saw a thing until she ran into an Elf walking the grounds. He shook off his surprise, holding her in the grips of his hands. When the confusion died down she saw it it was that she had run into. Lord Elrond’s eyes narrowed in annoyance as he looked her over. “So you have not run away after all. Legolas will be pleased to see that. Come.”

She looked back down the path as Haldir slowed to a stop, glaring at her. “He tried to hurt me,” she whispered, not sure whether or not Elrond would care.

He didn’t. Elrond glanced back, then motioned the panting Marchwarden away. “Haldir was ever one to presume. He will not have his fun tonight, however. Legolas has searched for you. Now he waits.”

He held her arm tightly and brought her to the Hall of Fire. It was empty and dark, save the large fire that burned. By its light she could see a form outlined standing before it. She could not tell if he faced the flames or watched her approach. Immediately her explanation began to take form within her.

“Legolas,” the Lord of Rivendell beckoned, bringing her forth. She could see now the Elven Prince was not watching for her. “I found her.”

“Leave her, my Lord. Hannon le. (Thank you.)” The tone was curt and dark. Her stomach fluttered as Elrond shoved her towards him, then began his retreat.

Alisceon waited, unwilling to start simpering to him. He would be expecting her to beg, perhaps, but she would not. When he turned the light shining from behind him obscured his face from her vision, but well enough she knew he was glaring. He held a rose in his hand, stroking the petals.

As he neared she tensed, but forced herself to stand her ground. His eyes were unreadable when she could see them on her. Legolas stopped in front of her and took in her appearance. Then without saying a word, he slapped her. Her head snapped to the side and she backed away, surprised the suddenness of the retribution. His voice echoed as he hissed, “Take the dress off.”

“I didn’t do this on…” she began, but was cut off by another slap.

“Take it off!” He shout filled her, made her tremble inside. He was going to brutalize her again, she knew.

The Elf started for her and she backed away, just missing his grasping hand. Legolas straightened with a hard look, then continued towards her until her back hit a column and she was pinned. “Please, let me explain,” she whispered.

He lifted the rose, tracing it along her cheek. “I will let you explain when you are bare.”

“Don’t do this.”

His hand found her throat, rubbing softly. The stem of the rose was caught between his flesh and hers, and a sharp thorn began sing ing her skin. His hand stiffened suddenly, holding her against the column as he glared into her eyes. “Bare yourself for me.”

She didn’t need to ask what would happen if she refused. His eyes told a story of pain and blood. Biting her lip she reached for her shoulders, pushing the fabric down and letting it slide down her body. “Now let me…”

He hit her again and she groaned at the headache forming. He spoke through gritted teeth. “I had hoped I would not have to cause you the suffering I endured. I was wrong. Therefore I will be relentless, meleth.” He turned the blossom of the rose to his palm, slapping her nude flesh with the stem. Thorns raked across her arm and Alisceon darted glances, looking for an escape route.

“Was I not kind to bring you such a gift?” he hissed, hitting her again. He shoved her back against the stone column and she gasped at the pain it caused. The flower hit the floor at her feet.

She couldn’t take this again, not like it had been. The thought of him beating her made her feel sick, so she stayed still through another few hits. There was no reasoning with madness. He would not be sated. His hands were rough, pressing into her breasts and rubbing hard as if it was not enough to satisfy his lust.

Legolas dropped his hands after he had bruiser. er. Her skin throbbed where he had touched, but she knew it was not over when he backhanded her. When she fell away, dizzy from the force, he held her up and sought after her thigh. His hand slid down the back of it, then jerked it up painfully as he opened his pants.

He shoved himself inside her as hard as he could and she cried out hard, almost falling from his grasp. “Oh, no you don’t,” he growled, shoving her back against the column and bracing his arm beneath hers. “Meleth, I have decided to teach you some important phrases to remember. I do not intend to speak your dog language any more than I need, so you had better learn quickly.” He thrust again, hissing in a breath before ordering in a husky tone, “Repeat. Edavo nin. (Forgive me.)”

Alisceon bit her lip and groaned as he dug his fingers into her thigh, shoving into her. She shook her head and he squeezed her leg hard, causing her to arch against him. He thrust himself upwards into her body twice, causing a wave of nausea to pass through her at the burning pressure. Breathlessly, she whispered, “Eda…eda…”

Legolas slowed himself, seeing her submission and savoring it. He pillowed his head against hers and whispered, “Edavo nin.”

“Edavo,” she groaned weakly at a sudden thrust, “nin.”

The Elf Prince nodded, kissing her lips softly as he pleasured himself against her. “Good, meleth. That means ‘forgive me’.” She shook her head away from his hand as it cupped her cheek, feeling sickened by his gentle tone. “Now you will beg me for mercy.”

She glared through unshed tears as he rolled forward into her with a hazy expression. “Never!”

It angered him. He made a fist and brought it down into her jaw, causing her tears to flow. “Beg me!” he shouted, filling the large Hall with the sound of his voice as he forced himself as far as he could go. She curled her leg around him, but it did nothing to her her pain. “Tano nin faelas! (Show me mercy!) Say it! Say it or I will fuck you in every way conceivable, then leave you here to bleed to death!”

She was finding it hard to stay upright as he surged forward again and again, without ceasing. Her head hit his shoulder in rest, but his groaning kept her conscious. “Tano…nin faelas.”

“Good,” he groaned, pressing his mouth against her shoulder. She tensed, feeling his teeth nip her delicate skin raw. “Now, love, beg me not to kill you, for you have tried my patience until its very end.”

“No,” she whispered, whimpering as he slammed into her hard. She could feel her thigh slipping from his hand, moist with her sweat. Or maybe it was blood. She couldn’t say. “Please.”

“Avo dhago nin, meleth, (Don’t kill me, love,) say it softly for me,” he ordered, kissing her cheek as he moved. “Come, meleth, beg me.”

He rested his lips against hers, his breath warming her mouth as she whispereAvo…Avo…dhago n-nin.”

Legolas kissed her tenderly, quickening his pace. As his forehead came to her shoulder he said, “I think I will kill you, meleth, after this.”

Her eyes focusing through the wetness of her tears on the fire, she breathed, “No,” thinking about Éowyn and Boromir. She would never see either again. “No.”

“In Elvish, Niriel,” he hissed into her shoulder, lapping at the salt of her skin. “Law. (No.) Say it! Show me you are afraid.”

She fell against him, closing her eyes as his movements became a blur. The last thing she could remember clearly was saying, “No,” softly, then falling with him to the floor.

Legolas lay over her, smoothing his hand down her side and hip as he whispered brokenly, “Firin an i-fuin.” (I die for the darkness.)

She didn’t ask what he said, could not bring herself to care. All she could think of was sleep. “I am so tired. Please, don’t…no more.”

He drew her up into his arms, moving her to a large carpet before the fire. There he lay beside her, pulling her against him. She opened her mouth to speak, to ask him why here and not his room, but his fingers to her lips halted her. “No more, Niriel. You have earned your rest.”

Alisceon closed her eyes tightly, guessing he meant for them to be seen here as they were, to shame her just has he had said he would. But she knew argument was futile. He would only hurt her worse, think of something more terrible to put her through. For now she let the warmth sink into her flesh and drifted off.

*

Éowyn stalked the halls of Rivendell, glaring at Elvest gat gave her disdainful looks as she passed. Fortunate for her the Elves were confident enough to allow her to roam their accursed city without much trouble except their distaste for her. That was well with her, for she held much the same feeling for them, if not to a greater depth.

She came to the door she had sought after and knocked hard. Her hatred for Elladan was great, but Legolas stung her. She could remember him as he was before and now to know what had befallen him, the depths he allowed himself to sink, it pained her and infuriated her. When he opened the door with somber eyes she had no pity for him. “Where is my cousin?”

The Elf turned his head towards the bed and opened the door for her. Éowyn stalked past him and stopped short upon seeing Alisceon’s form upon the bed. She put her hand to her lips, taking a step forward. Legolas stopped her. “Let her rest,” he said flatly.

The Rohirrim Princess turned on him. “What did she do to merit that? How could you?”

He shut the door and wandered tab table of drinks, pouring himself one and offering to her. She declined with crossed arms and knit brows. “I told her to come to me last night and she failed. I gave her what she asked for.”

“What she asked for?” Éowyn hissed, rubbing her temples. “What has happened to you? How can Elves behave as if there is no distinction between they and the servants of Sauron?”

Legolas glared at her over his drink. “Did I butcher her?”

The princess shook her head. “The question is when will you butcher her? Your people falter every day. Every day I see more darkness. Did you not even ask her where she was last night?”

He poured another drink. “I saw no need. She disobeyed. She is mine, Éowyn. My recompense for…she is mine.”

“Finish your sentence, Legolas. She is your recompense for that which was taken.” Her gaze was scathing. “I understand all too well. You Elves have lost yourselves and now seek ways to reclaim your station of greatness, if not by nobility than by force. You make up poems and songs of how Men lust for power, but you fail to see your own darkness. It was Haldir that kept her from you. I heard him speak of it to Elladan.”

The Elf’s eyes flashed. “Haldir? What cause did he have to keep her from me?”

Éowyn looked to her cousin sleeping on the bed. “What do you think?” she spat, not bothering to look at him.

Setting his glass down hard, Legolas confronted her face to face, gripping her shoulder. “Do you lie?” She shook her head and he swallowed, then softened. “Did he touch her?”

She jerked away from him. “No. She ran into Lord Elrond before he could. And you punished her for it.”

His blue eyes traveled Alisceon then, confused and bothered. Éowyn could see such conflict within him. But it flickered away, died without breathing life back into his spirit. “She would not have come anyway.”

“Should she have? Should she really have come to you after what you have done?”

Legolas frowned darkly at her. “She is mine.”

Éowyn nodded, fidgeting with her sleeve. “Yes, in body. Never in spirit. She will never love you. She will never replace what you lost.”

“That may be, Highness. But she will submit and that will be enough.” He looked at the floor as she touched his hand.

“It will never be enough.” Legolas yanked it back from her, towering as if to hurt her for her words.

Quietly, Éowyn stepped back and sat down. “I will wait for her to awaken. I must speak with her.”

“Concerning what?”

Éowyn was honest with him. “Boromir.”

Legolas glared across the room, leaning against the wall beside her chair. His eyes flashed, but otherwise he remained calm. “I see,” he said in a low tone. His voice was colored by anger and she knew she had spoke wrong. “What of Boromir?”

“Will you not even give her the sanctity of privacy?” she asked, trying to evade the question. “You will take everything from her until she is forced to kill you or be killed. Then you will be alone again.”

“Im ardarel ereb. (I am always alone.)” It was a soft whisper she did not understand and she did not press to. He pushed himself off the wall, heading towards a desk nearby. His body obscured her vision, but she did see a flash of silver. “I have something I must do. Care for her.”

Éowyn watched him go. He did not bother to look back, intent on hirposrpose, and she was glad to have him gone. Apart from the uncomfortable reminder of their place in this city, he saddened her. She found pity for him now and did not relish it.

Her cousin stirred, then asked in a sleepy voice, “Is he gone?”

Biting her lip, Éowyn was on her feet in a moment, coming to Alisceon’s side. She sank down on the bed and looked down, reaching to smooth back her dark hair. “He is gone. How long were you awake?”

“When you came in,” she answeredawinawing her blanket over her. She looked tired and sad. Éowyn recognized the expression upon her face all too well. “What were you going to say about Boromir?”

As if there may be ears to hear them, the blond darted a few glances around the room, looking at the windows that were shut. “I know where he is,” she said softly, leaning clo

Alisceon looked up in interest, forgetting her pains for the moment. “How? Where?”

“Elladan allowed me to visit him,” she replied gently. “He told the guards I am allowed to speak to him if I wish.”

Her cousin’s eyes hardened. “You slept with him.”

Éowyn pursed her lips to hide a frown. “Never mind about that. The point is I can take you to him. He asked me about you, Alisceon. He does care.”

For a moment her cousin looked hopeful, but it was dashed by some inner thought. The light in her eyes dimmed. “Legolas would be angry.”

The blond looked around the floor and furniture, then spotted what she wanted. The white dress Alisceon had been wearing had been folded and placed atop a dresser. Éowyn fetched it with a wry look towards the bed. “Since when do you care what the Elf thinks? You’re not going to let him begin to rule you, are you?” She smirked at Alisceon’s dirty look, then tossed the garment at her. “Come on. Let Legolas worry for himself.”

Throwing the dress on, her cousin frowned and muttered, “Until he starts hitting me again.” She climbed out of the bed and stumbled to a mirror. Éowyn heard her groan at her appearance.

“It will anger Boromir to see you like that,” she supplied, hoping to deter Alisceon from lamenting the marks on her cheek.

The half-Elf raked a comb through her hair, looking at her through the mirror. “It makes me angry. I hate this place, Éowyn.”

The princess nodded, looking down. “As do I.” She nodded towards the door. “Come.”

*

He shifted his tired arms, but the manacles held him upright and against the wall. He welcomhe che chill of it against his bare back, for it soothed his lash marks, but that was his only blessing. Sleep had not come easily, nor had it remained long upon him. His stormy eyes swept the cell over and Boromir wondered idly when the Elves had built this prison and if it had been used before the dark times came. It was dark and lonely here.

He could handle dark and lonely, but more than that he was hungry as well. They were not generous anymore, that was certain. He could envision a cup of ale and a roast chicken before him. The Steward frowned at the empty floor. He could imagine a great many things, but would receive none of them as long as he defied Elrond’s wishes. The Elf pretended to be in control, but Boromir was no fool. He could see the darkness in the Lord of Rivendell as easily as he could have seen an Orc charging the citadel. In truth he steeled himself for death, for he knew there would be no escape for him.

“Why do you linger in this darkness when you could have all you have ever wanted?” The voice was curious, mild and touched by sorrow.

Boromir would have spit upon the sorrow of Elrond. “I never wanted to be enslaved by Sauron. Apparently it was thought I was weaker than others who may have thought they could overcome. Strange how life turns out, is it not?”

Elrond smiled and paced outside his cell. “You fail to see that by cornering Sauron into trust he can be overcome. He has his Ring. No one but those he trusts could ever come close enough to defeat him.”

“A man that drags his people into the depths of evil is no hero,” Boromir replied darkly, staring at a chipped stone in the wall. “You think you fool Sauron, Elf? Sauron fools you.”

The Elf leaned against the bars, holding them tightly. “You could have done better?”

The mortal nodded with a dark glare. “Oh yes, Elf. I would not have allowed my grief to tempt me into a suicide mission that instead of killing me as I had hoped, led me into the evils responsible for my pain.”

Elrond’s eyes flashed. He fidgeted with his ring, staring into Boromir’s face as though he could divine all his secrets. “You will follow me into war again Sauron, Steward. I have foreseen it.”

“Tel,” t,” the Steward responded, “did you foresee your son becoming a rapist?”

The Lord of Rivendell frowned and folded his arms within the sleeves of his robe. He seemed conflicted, but Sauron’s hold was firm, blotting out the light with darkness. “What are mortal women to us? It is but a moment in time. All may lose their innocence before the e

Boromir painted a smirk across his lips as he watched Elrond wait for his counter. It would sting if he had any heart left. “Mortal women, as Arwen was mortal in the end? Would you say the same if she had been raped and abused?”

The cell door banged as Elrond slammed his hands into it, fury overtaking his usual calm exterior. “Speak not of my daughter!” he hissed. “She was violated, even if she did not realize it.” His voice softened, suggestive and firm. “I do not deny that the darkness is taking me, but I can overcome it when the moment is right. I will defeat Sauron and I will have your help.”

The Steward settled himself and closed his eyes, weary of this argument. It happened every day and every day he gave the same answers. “You will have a grave in Mordor, but I will not follow. Now go and report to your Dark Lord that you have failed yet again.”

He heard Elrond leave him and blessed the slam of the prison door on down the hall. Exhaling, Boromir opened his eyes again to gaze at the cracked wall. He put on a fair show, but in truth Elrond’s presense never failed to trouble him. It made him think upon the Ring; made him recall the pull it had on him. Even now he would catch himself craving the feel of hard gold against his palm.

Boromir pushed those thoughts away, distressed by them. His arms ached from being held above him and his fingertips felt cold. Part of him wished they would just end it now. He would not give in today or tomorrow, but he feared the presense behind the Ring. It was seductive. Lady Galadriel had taught him that after he had been found at Amon Hen. He recognized the want within him and it frightened him.

Voices entered the hallway. Boromir groaned, not looking forward to Elven company, but was surprised to see not Elves, but women. His eyes fell upon Alisceon and he swallowed. She was bruised on her face, marked by teeth on her shoulder. Éowyn had mentioned the Prince of Mirkwood’s preoccupation with her. It made him seethe inside. If he had only remained awake to stop the Elves from coming to them, using their drugs and stealthy ways. “Boromir?” she said, coming to the cell and gripping the bars.

He looked away, unable to meet her gaze. “Why did you bring her here, Éowyn?” he said sharply.

It was Alisceon that spoke. “She was under the impression you cared. Was she wrong?”

“You risk yourself needlessly, Lady Alisceon.” He hardened his gaze and brought it to her face, needing to make her angry. He could not afford her worry right now, nor did he wish her to have hope for him. “You would add more danger to our situation than you already have.”

She flinched at his harshness. “I wanted to know if you were all right.”

He nodded curtly. “I am well enough, no thanks to your foolishness in remaining with me here. Now go before that Elf discovers you missing. This time I have not the luxury of babysitting you or running to your rescue.” It was best done quickly, that she would leave and not wish to come back again.

“Boromir,” began Éowyn, her voice touched by irritation. “Why must you…”

He turned his glare upon her. “Why must I be so blunt? Because we are surrounded by death. I must put my full heart into defying the will of Sauron and here you two fools would come, distracting me with worry over you. Can either of you open this cell? Can you both aid me in overcoming the army of Elves outside this prison? If you can, by all means come and visit. But it seems to me you cannot withstand the violence one Elf, either of you, never mind fighting our way past the gates of Rivendell!” He saw tears form in Alisceon’s eyes and almost regretted his words, but that they would keep her safe away from him and the call of darkness. If they could remain low and forgotten, mere toys for the Elves’ enjoyment then they would not be used against him.

Alisceon nodded, meeting his gaze. “I thought you were different,” she whispered and it cut him more deeply than she could know. “I guess I was wrong. You had your fun. Now you need not worry over me anymore.”

She turned away without looking again and that was well. She would not worry anymore about him and could see to herself. He turned away from Éowyn’s study of him, however. “You went far,” she said softly, remaining in place. “Perhaps too far. Now she will curse your name for belittling what Legolas has done to her.”

“I meant for her to,” he replied, glaring at that damnable crack in the wall across from him. “There is no hope for me now. You know what they did to Aragorn. They will do it to me soon enough.”

“Yes, I know.” Her voice did not repent for the truth. “She will not wish to come back. Do not expect it, Boromir. You have succeeded.”

His heart lamented that privately, but he knew it was for the best. As Éowyn retreated, he leaned back against the cool wall and whispered, “Farewell, Lady Alisceon, from the hearts of two dead brothers.”

*

Alisceon did not wait for Éowyn. She was tired and needed to be alone right now to think without anyone troubling her. If she found that peace here in Rivendell, she would count herself very lucky, however. Life here dictated the odds were that any moment another Elf would accost her, demanding more of her hope to bleed from her. Not that she had very much right now anyway.

She turned down the hallway leading to the room of Legolas. She refused to refer to it as her own, even if she did sleep in his bed and make use of his things. As she opened the door she wondered if she would live out the rest of her days as a slave. If so, they would not be many. She would not remain his toy.

When shut hut the door behind her and turned, Alisceon stoppedn sen seeing him. The golden-haired prince sat in a chair that overlooked the door, eyes watching her in expectation. She searched herself in vain for something to say, some reaction he would not beat her for, but the words fled her when he arose. “Niriel,” he beckoned gently, his dark eyes hazy. “I have done something for you.”

“What is that?” she whispered, gazing up when he came before her. She did not expect he had done anything that would truly please her.

He lifted his hand, palm out. Blood dripped down his fingers, sliding into his sleeves. “Edavo nin, Niriel. I did not know Haldir had wronged you.”

Her eyes widened as she took in the spatter marks on his green tunic, his hands, his hair. She felt she should praise him for getting rid of the violent Marchwarden, but instead it sickened her. It frightened her as well. “You…you…”

“Killed him. They will find him in the gardens, Niriel,” he slid his hand down her cheek, leaving a wet trail behind. “I never killed before, not in cold blood. I did it for you.” Wrapping his other arm around her neck, Legolas pulled her into his embrace and forced his mouth over hers. She was so stunned and appalled she failed to fight him until it was too late. He won past her lips, brushing his tongue against hers. When he had stolen sufficient pleasure, he let her go with closed eyes. “Lay with me, meleth. Hide me from the darkness.”

Alisceon pushed his pawing hand off her shoulder, backing away. “You should rest,” she suggested, afraid of him now more than ever.

His brows knit as he held up his hands. “I did this so no other would ever touch you. Will you not still not submit?”

“Have you not done enough to condemn yourself for today?” the half-Elf countered sharply.

Instead of coming against her, Legolas retreated to the bed. He sank down onto the softness, then nodded. “There is no hiding anymore. I see him now, clear as the sun and dark as the depths of the world. I have slipped away and there is no hope.”

She knew not how to confront this. Should she talk him back into hope or revile him for his plea for pity? “What do you want me to say?” she asked honestly, looking at the floor. “Do you want me to say you can find the light again? I can’t. I don’t know if you’re strong enough for that. You want me to say you’ll be okay? You won’t if you embrace the dark.”

His eyes shone with unshed tears. “Get out.” It was a dark hiss that sent a chill through her. Alisceon didn’t tempt him. She left as quickly as she could, heading for the library and ignoring the stares of various Elves that noticed the blood on her. She prayed Legolas would not crave her attention anymore. He was crumbling and would destroy her with him if she remained.

*

Hannon le. – Thank you.
Edavo nin. – Forgive me.
Tano nin faelas. - Show me mercy.
Avo dhago nin. – Don’t kill me.
Law. – No.
Firin an i-fuin. – I die for the darkness.
Im ardarel ereb. – I am always (without-stopping) alone (lonely, isolated).
Edavo nin. – Forgive me.