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.

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They managed to catch up with the rest of their scattered party by midday. Alex thanked Heaven for the Elves’ ability to seemingly find their way anywhere. Come to think of it, she’d never heard of an Elf getting lost. The trail wound through the mountains, long believed to be deserted. Still, the land had been cursed for millennia, avoided by Elf and mortal alike; no one really knew much about what evil lurked in the haunted hills.

Four of the warriors had been injured severely enough Balglin had sent them back to Ithilien with an escort. Haldir and Alex had engaged in quite a spirited discussion about her returning as well. In the end, she had played the rank card she’d been so reluctant to embrace earlier, ending the debate, but not winning the argument. She refused to acknowledge that she’d aspirated some of the river water and would likely have a raging fever from pneumonia within a day or so. Still, she’d shown no signs of congestion and prayed it would hold off until they found Legolas and Charika.

Alex could feel Legolas in her heart and was overjoyed that he at least seemed stronger. Perhaps he had managed to escape and even now, he and Charika could be heading their way. During one of their momentary stops to regroup on the treacherous path, she found herself next to Rumil. The Lorien Warden seemed, outwardly, as calm and reserved as ever. However, she knew he was worried about Charika. She put her hand on his arm and he turned his light blue eyes upon her. She was momentarily taken aback by the pain she saw in their depths before his Elven calm reasserted itself.

“I can feel Legolas; he is stronger now than when we first started out. I know he will protect Charika with his life. So, if he is well, then we should presume she is also.” Gratitude flashed briefly in Rumil’s eyes, then he looked away.

“I envy you, my lady. I cannot feel Charika in any way. Although we have joined our bodies and I care very much for her, we do not have the connection you and Legolas share. While I do not wish this torment on anyone, I cannot help but be glad Legolas is with her. I know if anyone can protect her, it is your husband.”

Alex nodded silently. What was there to say?

They spotted the occasional foul creature throughout the night, including the troublesome shadow figures. Alex had to admire the adaptability of her husband’s people; they quickly learned the most efficient way to combat the irritating beings, relieving Saelbeth and Glorfindel of the responsibility of being the sole guardians against the frighteningly fast entities. She knew she did not possess the skill to be of any use fighting them, so she stuck with the large, brutal but corporeal creatures.


Surprisingly, the Khandun gave them several hours respite. Charika managed to sleep a bit, for which Legolas was grateful. Perhaps rest would improve her outlook. He wanted---needed---her to be strong. As he held her, he was aware of insidious thoughts, sent, no doubt, by Morgoth. If they were not so disgusting, he would have found them amusing. Visions of Alexandra in his father’s arms; then, the vile suggestion that he take advantage of the naked, willing woman sleeping with her head against his chest. What the fallen Vala had not counted on was Alex’s return from the call of Mandos.

He had felt her gradually strengthening and knew she had turned from the final path of Men. Knowing she was safe and whole eased his mind considerably and, in return, helped him to regain his bearing and his own strength.

Charika clung to him as she slept, unable to totally relax, even in slumber. He kept his arms around her, hoping to somehow convey what little bit of security he could to the woman. When she finally roused herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly. He knew she must have thought him Rumil for, though he returned her kiss chastely, when she finally awakened and realized it was Legolas in whose arms she lay, her eyes opened wide and an expression of dismay clouded her delicate face.

“Oh! Forgive me, my lord. I thought … I guess, I was dreaming.” She dropped her eyes and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I am sorry.”

Legolas smiled. “There is no need to apologize, my lady. I am glad you received some comfort from me.” She blushed and he knew she was thinking about what she had been ready to do. “What can you tell me about this Lastharos? Who is he?”

Charika shivered. “He is a powerful lord in Khand. I do not know much about him; only that he visited my lord on several occasions over the years.”

Not long after I arrived in my lord’s house, he came to visit, and I was chosen as his bedmate for the night. Since I was not one of the … ranking concubines, just simply a girl in the harem, I was one of the boys and girls offered to guests for their amusement. I had not been trained long, having only been away from home for a couple of months, and my lord had hundreds in his pleasure-house. I had only been taken to my master once, not long after my arrival, and he had taken my maidenhood. It was all I knew of the pleasures of the flesh. I wondered why such a handsome and obviously experienced lord as Lastharos would want me. I found out, however, he enjoys partners who are not … worldly

I was taken to his chambers by one of the eunuchs and I remember his look of sympathy when he left me in the room. It was not well-lit and there were shadows and I was afraid. If I had been just a simple village girl, I would have been married and starting my own family by that age. As it was, I had been ‘preserved’ for my master, and so had no exposure to men outside of my master and the eunuchs who guarded the harem.

When Lastharos entered the room, he seemed kind, at first. He is so beautiful---they say he has Elven blood; perhaps that is why he is so fair. He asked me about my life before coming into my lord’s household. I thought his interest well-meaning. I know now, he simply wanted to make sure I had not bedded with village boys or been a wanton before becoming one of my master’s harem girls.

He held me on his lap and was most pleasant; then, he took me to his bed and at first, I thought it would be like with my master. Then, he grabbed my wrists and tied them to the head of the bed and used his horsewhip on me. I did not know such people existed, who got pleasure from inflicting pain. The more I screamed, the better he liked it.

He would use his whip or his hands and beat me until my entire body was bruised, and then he would use me. I had not been taught how to pleasure a man with my mouth or to take him inside of me in any way besides the traditional one. Lastharos did not seem to care that I was ignorant. When I gagged on him or could not catch my breath, it increased his pleasure. When I bled from his forced entries, he became more excited.

I do not remember everything of that first time. I suppose I lost consciousness after a while and then I remember waking up several days later on my pallet in the women’s quarters. I was in pain for several weeks, and I can remember the other women, the boys, the eunuchs, even my master, looking at me with sympathy. It seems, after that first visit, every time Lastharos came to my master’s house, he asked for me specifically. Each time, he devised some new torment to practice on me for his pleasure. Sometimes he would force me to pleasure multiple partners, male and female, while I was bound in some terribly uncomfortable position as he watched. Other times … well, I have been forced to do things you would find most heinous, Master Elf. Things that if you or your friends knew, you would shun me. Rumil would turn from me in disgust and think himself contaminated.

Legolas heard in Charika’s words the echo of Alexandra’s sentiments after she had been raped by Goroth and his nuruil: contaminated, unclean, despoiled. Alex had been a grown woman, experienced, married to him when she had been taken by force; Charika, while considered old enough for marriage, motherhood, and pleasures of the flesh, had, because of her ‘preservation’, been completely innocent and unprepared. For her, the abuse had become almost normal. It was only with Rumil that she had learned the difference between being used for pleasure and making love.

The woman did not look at him and he could sense shame in her manner. Reaching out, he lifted her chin so her eyes were forced to meet his. Keeping his anger and disgust at how she had been treated behind his natural kindness and serenity, he smiled.

“You need not fear anything from your past, my lady. We would not turn from you for anything you were forced to do. And Rumil would feel only anger at those who brought this to you, not toward you.” He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head and she settled back into his arms, much like a child seeking comfort.

“Do not tell Rumil, my lord. I could not bear to lose his love, nor to see him look upon me with pity and revulsion.”

“I will keep your confidences,” Legolas promised. “I will not tell Rumil, although, I do not think it would cause him to love you any less.”

“But you have never---.” She stopped and he could tell by her sharp intake of breath, she had remembered what had happened to his wife. “Forgive me, my lord. I did not remember, you have been in the same position. But Alexandra was taken by force---.”

“As were you. Just because you were brought up for life in the harem of a Haradrim Warlord does not mean you deserve any less respect or consideration or freedom from rape.” They sat quietly for a while longer and Legolas knew he had to get her away from Lastharos, if it meant sacrificing his own life.

He did not wish to die for he did not want to leave Alexandra; but he knew his friends would not let her fall into despair. Saelbeth, as his kinsman, would certainly see that she was cared for; Orophin, he knew, would die for Alexandra, if need be, so he had no worries that his wife would be friendless. Eomer or Aragorn would gladly welcome her into their households should she wish to live among mortals. Yes, his friends would see that his wife was taken care of. Still, he did not know how a mortal would take losing a bondmate. It was bad enough for the Firstborn who had hope of seeing their mates again---well, some of them did; he would never see Alexandra in Valinor.

His first priority was to get Charika out of Lastharos’ grasp. She needed clothes; if she escaped the prison, but succumbed to the elements---well, at least she would die free. He looked down at the woman resting against his chest. She was staring at nothing, her eyes infinitely sad. Tilting her face to his, he smiled encouragingly.

“You are stronger than one of my kind would be,” he told her, amused at the look of disbelief on her face.

“Oh, no. I am nowhere near as strong as an Elf!”

“No, you are stronger.” Seeing her skeptical expression, he continued. “One of my people would have died from the things you have experienced. We cannot endure being taken by force and if it happens to one of us, we usually give up our lives or go into the West where the Valar may heal us. You have survived it not once, but many times. You are much stronger than I could ever be, my lady.”

The look of wonder, with just a hint of pleasure, almost made him laugh. She had never thought of herself as strong. Perhaps it would help her self-image.

Their moment of ease was short-lived, however. Legolas could sense the return of their captor seconds before the door opened and he stepped in. Fortunately, only one of his winged henchmen was in attendance. Still, with no real weapons, Legolas was at a distinct disadvantage.

“My, what a charming picture,” Lastharos said, his beatific smile in direct contrast to the sarcasm in his tone. “Tell me, Elf, did you enjoy Charika’s body as much as I did?” His eyes traveled over the nude forms of the two people before him. “I would have liked to have seen that, personally. In my land, there are many who would give much to see an Elf mate with one of Haradrim and Rhunian ancestry. Your glowing, fair complexion against her rich, dark gold one; silvery blonde locks blending with her gleaming black curls; your tall, strong, muscular body moving with her small, soft, voluptuous one.” His tone had become almost intimate. “Yes, that would be quite interesting.”

Legolas felt Charika shrink against him and he tightened his arms about her, and stood, forcing her to stand with him. He met the Khandun’s gaze without letting his revulsion show.

“And it is said, the Firstborn have much stamina. You could endure much punishment for our pleasure.” Reaching out, he smoothed his hand over Legolas’ shoulder, across his chest. “Who knows? You may come to enjoy it as well.”

The prince fought his natural inclination to kill the man before him. He had to wait for his opportunity, and, with the winged beast standing guard, this was not it. Lastharos could see the woman clinging to the Elf and found it amusing that she thought he could protect her. He gestured and the winged creature was suddenly beside them and had sunk its claws into Legolas’ shoulders, yanking him back as Lastharos grabbed the woman, dragging her from the Elf’s arms.

“Legolas!” she screamed, trying to grasp his hand. The Khandun snatched her back quickly, and pulled her toward one of the cells, laughing at her ineffectual struggles.

The Elf twisted in the grasp of the … thing that held him in a vise grip. It pulled him back against its body and he could feel its excitement. He twisted around, trying to break its hold. The thing dug its claws deeper into his flesh and he could feel blood beginning to trickle. He lifted his knees and kicked back against the beast, hitting it just below the hips. The creature let out a high-pitched shriek and slammed down on top of him.

The thing’s grip loosened slightly and Legolas tried to roll from under it. The being’s weight, however, pinned him to the stone floor and he had to struggle to crawl partially out from underneath it. The creature grabbed at his body and its claws ripped into his flesh, leaving great gashes on each side.

He gritted his teeth against the pain and brought his fist down on the wrist of the clawed hand gripping his left side. The being let go briefly and he managed to roll himself free. He rose to his knees and kicked the creature in the face. Once again, it let out a shriek and he took the opportunity to spring to his feet and put the table between himself and the beast.

He did not see which cell Lastharos had disappeared into with Charika, but he could hear her cries. He turned in the direction of the sound, but was knocked down from behind by the winged beast. It had flown over the table and now sat astride the prince, its claws entwined in his hair and around his neck. He could not draw breath and the creature cackled as his sight began to dim. He could feel the thing’s obvious arousal and used his remaining strength to push himself up and back, knocking the beast back.

He was now on his back, on top of the creature and at least the pressure was off of his neck. Reaching up, he clawed at the thing’s eyes and could feel his fingers slip into the cold, slick eye sockets. He was rewarded with a shriek unlike any he had yet heard. The claws released his hair and throat and he rolled off of the beast.

It lay on the floor, its claws to its face as dark, greenish-black blood flowed down its cheeks. Legolas spotted the leather strap he had kept from his bonds. Snatching it up, he grabbed the creature’s head and pulled it up, kicking it’s hands down so his legs wrapped around its shoulders, holding its arms away from its face. Looping the leather strap around the being’s neck, he began to twist and pull it, choking the dark beast.

It was strong and it took all of his Elven strength to hold the pressure on the strap. He jerked the straps tighter, but it seemed the thing just would not die. Legolas closed his eyes. Sweet Eru! He kept the strap tight, then twisted his hips, flipping the beast onto its front and rearing back so he sat on its back. He jerked the strap again and wrapped the ends tighter around his hands. The strain was taking its toll and he could feel the muscles in his arms beginning to cramp from the constant tension.

He was vaguely aware of Charika’s cries becoming weaker. He had to get her away from Lastharos. It was taking too long for him to kill this thing and meanwhile she was alone with her abuser. Summoning a reserve of strength he did not know he possessed, he gave the strap a mighty tug and twist while pressing down on the creature’s back and, to his utter surprise, the strap cut through its neck and the beast’s head was almost completely severed. The dark blood sprayed out and Legolas closed his eyes.

The Elf stood and wiped the creature’s blood from his face. He listened for Charika and heard a soft whimper from one of the cells. Sprinting to the door, he slammed it open and saw the woman lying on the floor of the cell, blood covering her face and smeared about the floor, as if she had tried to crawl away. The Khandun was standing over her, a whip made of some sort of plant the Elf had never before seen in his hand. It looked like a pole that had been split into multiple long tips on the business end. The man’s clothes were sprinkled with red droplets that could only have come from her wounds.

He looked at Legolas with dispassionate eyes.

“Well, you are much more resourceful than I had anticipated. I was certain I would return to find you dead, a feast for my servant.”

“You suffer from the common malady of your kind,” Legolas replied casually moving closer to Charika. “Arrogance. This will not be the first time I have seen one of Morgoth’s servants brought down by his own pride.”

“Morgoth? Ah---yes. Well, I am no one’s servant, Elf. I care not for the Valar or their petty disagreements. Sauron may have been a lapdog for Melkor, but I chose to aid his cause for my own reasons.”

Legolas raised an inquisitive brow. “Indeed? For someone who claims to have no interest in the Evil One, you freely use his servants.”

Lastharos smiled. “Yes. They are quite useful. Just because he created them does not preclude my acquiring them for myself. If our ends happen to coincide, well, I have no quarrel with that.” He glanced down at where Charika lay, her labored, faint, but still audible breathing the only sign she still lived.

“You still try to protect her. Why? She is simply a piece of meat---a receptacle to be used for pleasure. When she dies, another will take her place---I have hundreds more, just like her.”

“You would not understand, Lastharos. And if you have more, then why pursue her? You have lost some of your beasts in this enterprise, and gone to much trouble for one woman, simply to kill her.”

The Khandun waved his hand dismissively. “The creatures are easily replaced. And I found my pursuit of the woman quite educational. I have learned a great deal about your land and the politics of Gondor in the interim. As for why? Because she belongs to me and I do not let any of my property out of my control.”

Legolas allowed himself a faint smile. “She got away from you and you cannot endure that, can you?”

Lastharos’ eyes narrowed, but his voice remained calm. “It would appear she was … misplaced for a while. But, as you can see, in the end, she did not escape me.” A malicious smile slowly spread over his face. “I believe I will take you with me. I have no further use for the bitch. The wolves will feed on her body---perhaps they will even wait until she is dead.” Legolas felt revulsion at his words but did not allow it to show.

“But you,” the man said, taking a step closer to the Elf, “You are interesting. We do not have your kind at all in my land. I only regret I will not be waiting here for your friends---my servants tell me they approach. Tell me, why are they so intent on finding you? I believe they sent quite a sizeable party after you and the whore.”

Legolas felt his heart leap at the news that his friends were near. If he could keep Charika alive until help arrived, she may have a chance.

“Again, you would not understand. My people do not abandon anyone to torture and death.”

“A pity. You should learn to cut your losses.”

“We are not lost,” Legolas said, allowing a hint of his seething anger to creep into his voice.

“That is debatable,” replied Lastharos. Without warning he swung the whip, it’s dozens of split tips flexible enough to snap, yet stiff enough to cut, catching Legolas across the chest and belly. The pain was shocking, even for one with Elven tolerance. Sweet Luthien! If Charika had endured a beating with this instrument, and still lived, she was stronger than he thought.

He ducked, partly for evasion, partly for protection, as Lastharos quickly brought the whip down again, this time catching his back. Legolas dove in the direction of the man and managed to catch the Khandun’s knee, yanking hard and throwing his enemy down on the floor. He landed partially atop the man and was surprised to see a glint of satisfaction in Lastharos’ eye.

Legolas felt a kick to his belly and momentarily lost his breath. As he struggled to suck in air, his opponent took advantage of his temporary weakness and the Elf suddenly found himself pinned beneath the lithe, but powerful body of the Khandun.

Lastharos smiled down at him and brushed a stray lock of Legolas’ hair back off of the prince’s face. The gesture was oddly tender and he felt a shiver of unease; he preferred open hostility to this twisted form of intimacy.

“Tell me, Elf. Is it true your kind are tireless? I have heard the Elves of Rhun mate with so many different mortals because the Secondborn are not strong enough to endure the constant attentions of your people.” He laughed softly as Legolas tried to recover his breath; with the weight of the Khandun atop him, it was difficult.

“You look so delicate, so fragile. I am surprised that you actually live up to the rumors of the durability of your kind.” He lowered his head close enough Legolas could feel his warm breath against his cheek. “Your woman must be quite content. Will you think of her when others are using your body? Or do you, like the Elves of Rhun, take your pleasure where you find it?”

That this … man should even think of Alexandra caused revulsion to wash over Legolas; she was insulted simply by being in Lastharos’ thoughts. He reached up and grabbed the man’s head and swiftly brought his own head up, striking the Khandun sharply on the forehead. The man was stunned briefly, but it was long enough for Legolas to break free of his grasp and push himself out from under his body.

Before Lastharos could recover, Legolas kicked him beneath his chin, causing his head to snap back. He’d hoped it would break the man’s neck, but apparently he was also tougher than he looked. The Khandun pulled out a dagger and, reaching out, grabbed Charika by the hair, holding her against his body, his knife at her throat.

Legolas calculated his chances of getting the woman away from her attacker without her sustaining further injury. They were not good. Lastharos smiled as if he knew what the Elf was thinking.

“Well, Elf. It seems I once again hold the advantage. I had hoped for better sport from you. When I discovered you had been brought here, I was anticipating several days of … exploration of your abilities.” He laughed at the disgust Legolas did not bother to try to hide. “And once I got a good look at you, I really hoped to take you back to Khand. You would be quite the jewel in my collection. But, alas, I must wait for another opportunity.” He sighed resignedly. “It seems your friends are efficient warriors and trackers. Despite the weather and the opposition, they are almost upon us.”

“So,” he continued, “I will bid you farewell for now, Elf. I have business elsewhere. But, we will meet again.”

“You know where to find me,” Legolas replied.

“Indeed,” he said with a sly wink, “You, your kin, and your woman.” He saw the undisguised fury in the Elf’s gaze, and laughed. “And, just to make sure you do not try to follow me---.”

He flipped the dagger around and plunged it into Charika’s chest, just below her throat, a little to the right side. Giving his shocked foe a slight bow, Lastharos let go of the woman’s hair, allowing her body to slump back onto the floor, and in a flash, was out the door.

Legolas caught Charika into his arms. Her eyes were swollen closed from the man’s blows, her lip split and bleeding, blood also still trickling from her nose, though much of it had dried and caked on her face. He could see bruises and raised marks from her whipping and when he turned her body, could see blood smearing her thighs.

“Hold on, Charika,” he whispered. “Do not let go. Rumil will be here momentarily. We will take care of you.” Her breathing was almost nonexistent. Legolas was an archer; he knew that impaled objects, such as the dagger protruding from her chest, did not always kill on impact. Lastharos had given him a fiendish choice: if he left the dagger in place, she would be in pain, and eventually would slowly bleed to death; if he removed it, she would bleed out quickly, as he had no means of stopping the blood and repairing the damage before she died.

He thought of what he would want if it were Alexandra or himself in Charika’s position, and made his decision. He left the blade in place. The woman was already unconscious, so, hopefully, she was in no pain at present; and he would want to be left with at least a chance to see his love again. If he were in Rumil’s position, he would want the same done for Alexandra; he would want to be with her if she were facing death. He prayed that their friends would get here soon, and murmured words of comfort to the woman in his arms. Charika could not be moved in her current condition, and he would not leave her alone.