Feud

Chapter 6: Naeg ar Annad [Pain and Desire]

They rode in silence considering their conversation as the hazy light within the forest slowly lost its golden undertone and became infused instead with the longer reaching beams of red and orange.

Legolas noticed the change in Tawar's voices long before the first evidence of elven habitation came into view and sighed just slightly. {Strange how the movements and sounds of my own people now seemed to encroach as an intrusion upon the life of the forest,} he thought.

He halted the horse with only a brief pressure from his knees just beyond Gandalf's sight of the main gates and jumped to the ground. He knew the guards' vision had already observed their approach and word of his arrival would soon spread to parties interested. He could not bring himself to say that he was forbidden to pass through those gates, even though he knew the wizard was aware of this anyway. And, he definitely did not want Mithrandir to witness his encounter with Ailinyéro.

"It would be better for you to continue and enter the city without me along," he said quietly, not meeting the wizard's eyes. Before Gandalf could respond he melted into the comforting shadows of the canopy without even a tremor of leaves to mark his movements. He worked his way around to the rear of the fortress where a less impressive but more often used set of gates provided access for the coming and going of the guards and patrols.

Legolas landed without disturbing a single grain of sand upon the pathway before the postern of Thranduil's Hall. The tree from which he had dropped was a friend from days of old. Called 'The Sentinel', a name he had bestowed upon it when he was a child, he had spent many hours high in its branches overlooking the forest and his father's halls.

While not the oldest tree in the forest, it was still one of the grandfathers, soaring higher than any of the others growing this close to the mountain stronghold. If one climbed all the way to the top, a clear view could be seen to the East where the Lonely Mountain stood wreathed in clouds reminiscent of Smaug's hazy exhalations and Long Lake lay shining like a mithril mirror for Manwe's use.

From its shelter he had watched the activities of the guards and patrols, the various council members, visiting dignitaries from distant lands, spied on his parents arguing, and even just watched the regular folk of the Woodland Realm. Legolas had always trusted and felt safe within the care of The Sentinel, and here he left his weapons, pack, and cloak for the night. He approached the gates.

The guard eyed him briefly and without emotion as the barrier was opened and he entered the stableyard near the barracks. Small groups of soldiers milled about, their conversations ceasing and activities stilling as the disgraced archer walked past them. Several of them had turned and left the area as soon as he had arrived, but many remained. Legolas refused to bow his head or look down even though he knew they would expect him to.

They knew why he was here; could not help but be aware of what was to take place this night, as Ailinyéro used a nearby storage room cut into the rock of the mountain wall as his place to exercise his rights. The warriors' acute sense of hearing made what went on inside clearly audible, even if they were to go into the barracks and shut the doors and windows. The air calmly carried to them all the unpleasant sounds of the curses, of leather striking flesh, his own cries of agony as the hours wore on. The other sounds, noises Ailinyéro made in his sick madness of passion, would be clearly audible as well.

Legolas could hear the soldiers, too. They meant for him to do so. The ten or twelve warriors that remained in the stableyard took part in Ailinyéro's chastisement by betting on how long it would take him to strike his first blow and the hour when Legolas would no longer be able to keep silent under the torment. Now they added wagers on how long his tormenter could hold out before succumbing to his carnal desire and morbid pleasure. The final wager almost did make Legolas stop in his tracks as he visibly flinched while they laughed. They were betting on how long it would be before he joined Ailinyéro in his perversion.

In the shadows of the stable's eaves, Fearfaron listened and watched with growing disgust. He had been waiting all day for Legolas' appearance, intending to spend the entire day collecting new pieces of wood from a spot two leagues from the city.

A recent storm had felled an old tree, and in turn it had taken down two others in its path as it tumbled to its death. Such life and energy and great age was not to be wasted to rot upon the forest floor, in the carpenter's opinion. Such falls were as gifts from the forest; a sign of trust between the elves and the beeches that no tree lost would go without the respectful and almost reverent collection and use of the wooden husk left by the ancient forest dwellers' demise. Fearfaron found that Legolas understood this concept, better than many of the warriors seemed to do, and he looked forward to having the elf along to complete this task of honor: the funeral of the trees, as it was to his mind.

Now he would not be able to carry out the collection. Ailinyéro would claim his rights first, and Legolas would be in no condition to help at all after a few hours had passed within the storage alcove. He had known for some time that Ailinyéro's ideas of punishment were becoming more sexual. He believed that the elf had developed an obsession with the fallen archer and considered him as a slave. To his mind, Fearfaron found this far more despicable than the errors the archer himself had committed, for those were not intentional and no malice was involved.

The talan-builder feared that Ailinyéro had lost some part of his sanity in his grief. Fearfaron knew not what to do about it, and had not intervened as yet, for the rules had not been breached as far as he understood them. Legolas always walked out of the storage room on his own feet the next day, although unsteadily at times, and returned to the forest.

The carpenter always waited there beside the stables throughout the night, just in case the elf did not emerge and a healer might need to be summoned. He almost wished this would be the case, for then he could officially make complaint against Ailinyéro and stop the chastisement, siting the rule against interfering with the completion of the Tasks of Release.

Fearfaron sighed, loudly enough that Legolas heard him and looked over. The archer felt his face grow hot and quickly averted his gaze; he did not want the carpenter to witness this. The collected soldiers noticed this and snickered and scoffed at his discomfort, which made Fearfaron scowl even more. Ailinyéro chose that moment to make his appearance from the storage room, shaking a set of chains noisily as he moved forward. Fearfaron cleared his throat and the other elf looked over, annoyed.

"I have been waiting here all day; I need Legolas to accompany me to collect several fallen trees from the forest," he said calmly.

Legolas glanced in his direction again; he knew Fearfaron had often been present when he came to Ailinyéro, but never before had he made his presence known. As Legolas looked at the older elf, it became apparent he was very angry. This was surprising, for the carpenter never showed anything but sorrow and loneliness on his features. Ailinyéro, too, seemed surprised, but amused more so.

"What is that to concern me? You can come gather him up in the morning for that! I, too, have been waiting, and for far more than a day! It is your interference that prevents me from claiming my rights as I wish; your requirement of only monthly servitude is a disgrace to your son's memory!" He sneered, and now Fearfaron's countenance colored in rage.

"How do you dare speak of my son's dishonour, when what you do here defiles your own vows of bonding! Think you of Andamaitë's memory before you breathe any mention of my duty!" His voice was tight with barely repressed wrath, and all were speechless at this uncustomary display from the usually placid talan-builder.

Ailinyéro sent him a deadly glare but made no comment as he approached Legolas and held out the chains. The archer dutifully put his hands forward and his tormenter clamped down the manacles as he continued to stare down Fearfaron. The carpenter set his mouth in grim disapproval but said no more as Ailinyéro led Legolas away and shut the storage room door with a savage slam that made the wood shudder.

"Well, well," Ailinyéro said softly in his captive's ear. "Have you won over your victim's father? And just how did you manage to achieve that, Hecilo? [Outcast]" He continued, placing his hands firmly on Legolas' shoulders and squeezing to feel the firm muscle under the leather tunic.

Legolas held himself rigid, refusing to give his captor the satisfaction of knowing his discomfort this early into the torture. He said nothing. Ailinyéro reached up and brushed through the warrior's hair, holding it back from his neck as he bent his head and breathed heavily against his skin, inhaling the fallen elf's scent.

"Have you shared our little games with him, Hecilo?" He resumed his mocking tone, smiling slightly as he saw the ligaments tighten and gooseflesh rise along Legolas' nape. Legolas knew better than to make any response, for it only hastened and increased the pain if he expressed his disgust. Ailinyéro just laughed, knowing he thought this. He pulled on the chains and led Legolas deeper into the cave where he had long ago set up the surroundings as he desired.

A single torch provided the only illumination, but in the small space it was amply sufficient. Only the farthest corners stood in black obscurity and the central area was clearly lit. Near the center of the small room, two sturdy posts were deeply embedded into the ground. To these were bound two thick rings of cast iron, located halfway up the total height of the posts, and here Ailinyéro attached the chains. This forced Legolas to his knees and caused his arms to be pulled straight to either side, parallel to the floor. Ailinyéro could hear Legolas' breath quicken in anxious anticipation, and his own heart began racing in response.

Ailinyéro always started out like this in order to make the guilty one face his degradation: down on his knees in the dirt, completely at his mercy. Slowly he walked all the way around, circling his captive with satisfaction, and again laughed coldly. Despite his efforts to keep still, Legolas involuntarily shivered and Ailinyéro noticed.

"Ah!" he sighed loudly. "Eager to begin?" He reached out and grabbed Legolas jaw, forcing him to look up and meet his gaze. The archer tried hard to keep any hint of his loathing and trepidation form being visible but knew he had failed by the triumphant leer than graced Ailinyéro's lips. His eyes shifted and locked onto the feather worked into the long, twisted tresses and he reached for it, turning it in his fingertips, curious.

"Have you adorned yourself thus for my amusement and attention?" He queried and quickly ripped the ornament away and cast the proud feather down to the dirt. Now Legolas' eyes did blaze in fury, and this delighted Ailinyéro. He pulled back and struck the archer with the back of his hand across his cheek, and outside a mixture of cheers and complaints arose as the first of the wagers was decided.

Legolas cheek stung from the blow and his eyes fell on the eagle feather. {Never mind,} he told himself; {it will still be there in the morning.} At least he hoped this would prove true as he berated himself for forgetting to remove the feather before entering the city. He had forgotten about it due to considering the dark musings of the wizard.

Ailinyéro unchained him and pulled him up to his feet by the arm.

"Strip," he commanded and stepped back to watch. Legolas blushed crimson as he began to undo his tunic under the elf's lustful scrutiny. No matter how often this had occurred he could not separate his mind from these actions. Each time he was painfully aware of the other's growing arousal as one by one his garments were removed. At last he stood naked, hands at his sides and unconsciously clenched tightly.

Ailinyéro was flushed also, and again made a slow circle around his captive. Legolas could hear his own heart and Ailinyéro's breathing and his stomach began to twist as bile rose in his throat. He swallowed hard as Ailinyéro once again stood in front of him, but the elf did not touch him. Instead he reached behind him and removed a short leather whip from the belt around his waist, unfurling the tongues from their resting-place wrapped around the braided handle. He swished it through the air close to Legolas' face and smiled as he recoiled slightly.

"You know what to do," was all he said as he held out the scourge.

Legolas took a deep breath to try to steady his hands before he lifted them, not wanting to show any weakness to his tormenter by having them shake or tremble. He took some small satisfaction in seeing his fingers close down around the handle sure and steady as he drew the whip from Ailinyéro's grasp.

The first strike was always the hardest; his body tensed in anticipation of the stinging pain. He had learned over the years not to hold back on the strength of the first blow. To do so only made Ailinyéro furious and caused him to replace the leather whip with a thin and vicious length of chain.

Legolas took a deep breath and held it as he snapped his wrist and sent the tongues of leather over his shoulder to bite deeply into the skin. He suppressed a gasp, squeezing his eyes shut and repeated the movement across the opposite shoulder. He tried to concentrate on his breathing so as not to hear Ailinyéro's. He tried to control the pounding of his own heart as if by doing so he could control the rampant desires of his captor. Both activities were futile.

Finally, after the twentieth strike, he could not catch his breath at all and his gasps were audible. Two more blows and a thin groan filled the still air, followed by more raucous cries of combined glee and disgust issuing from the stableyard, announcing the winners and losers of the next bet.

"Salt!" a voice, cried out loudly from outside.

"Aye, too quiet by half in there!" another rejoined.

Legolas glanced at Ailinyéro fearfully, hoping he would not take this suggestion, and did not pause in the rhythm of his pain.

Ailinyéro's breathing was labored; his eyes glazed slightly as his gaze traveled the length of Legolas' body. He took another turn around to survey the effect on the archer's back and sides. Remaining behind him, he observed with satisfaction how the archer's legs began shaking as the self-inflicted blows continued.

Ten more strikes and Legolas felt his knees buckle and he landed on them hard, catching himself with his hand as he fell forward and cried out. Ailinyéro snatched the whip from his grasp.

"Look at you; you are the most detestable thing I have ever seen! How can you go on living everyday, knowing you are a murderer? How dare you cry out at this puny punishment when you should be locked away in darkness forever?" He began yelling his taunts and curses, punctuating each sentence with a swift kick to the ribs or another sweep of the whip across the bleeding lashes.

Legolas knew he was not allowed to respond or try to avoid any of the hits, but the body has instincts beyond the command of the mind and he sought to get out of the way in spite of himself. He threw up an arm to deflect a kick and this enraged Ailinyéro further. His shouts became incoherent and he dragged the elf back to the post and chained him there, forcing him up to his knees again.

"You will submit to your punishment! How dare you try to defend yourself? What right do you have to be whole and unbroken? Your body heals and you live on; the same will never be for Andamaitë!" He screamed his words into Legolas ear and swatted his head with the handle of the whip. Then Ailinyéro turned away and strode to the back of the room where he remained for some minutes as he tried to regain control over himself. It would not do to have his captive lose consciousness so soon.

Legolas leaned his head against one of his arms and shuddered; he knew what this small break in the torture portended.

Ailinyéro returned slowly to stand in front of Legolas, and then he circled around him again, trailing his fingertips across the fresh lashes as he went. Legolas winced and gasped; the digits were coated in salt. His tormenter drew a ragged breath as his hands came around to front and dragged languidly across firm pectoral muscles and small maroon nipples.

Legolas pulled back and received a sharp blow from a fisted hand, while the other clamped down on one nipple hard at the same time. The force of the blow threw him back while he tried to come forward the instant the pressure on his sensitive flesh tightened and wrenched. He refused to cry out; it was not as bad as the whip.

Ailinyéro knew it hurt, he felt no need to hear any sound when the reactions of the body sang louder than any songbird. He bent low to take Legolas' mouth, grasping his jaw to hold him still when he tried to turn from the kiss, and roughly bit down on the lower lip, drawing blood. Legolas kept his teeth clenched tight, but Ailinyéro was having none of that and squeezed relentlessly into his mandibular joint, forcing the jaw open.

With a cry of outrage muffled by his captor's thick and repulsively hot tongue, Legolas thrashed against his bonds and tried to pull his head away. The other hand still held the tender nipple tightly and now twisted mercilessly and pulled forward more ardently as Legolas tried to pull back. At last the kiss broke and both were panting to regain breath. Ailinyéro sneered at the archer and spat in his face.

"You should not be so quick to turn from such favors, Hecilo," he hissed. "Who else has kissed you lately?" He held the jaw still but Legolas kept his eye averted. Ailinyéro answered himself: "No one. No one wants you now. Pretty thing, all alone!" He mocked as he let go his hold and returned his attention to kneading the bruised nubs of sensitive nerves on his chest.

"I have a new lover, did you know that? Not as pretty as you, perhaps, but she at least is clean and decent. We please each other much." Ailinyéro worked his hands lower; kneeling down as he did so, stroking salt glazed fingers against tight abdominals and down over slender hips.

Legolas gritted his teeth and shut tight his eyes, trying to make his mind go elsewhere, but as always he failed. He felt every touch and heard every word. He held his breath as Ailinyéro fondled his limp penis and scrotum, laughing softly at the juxtaposition of the archer's determined rigidity of every muscle in his body and the soft velvety laxness of his genitals.

"Do you not enjoy pleasure? Or is it you do not find males interesting sexually? No, that is not it. We both know that."

Legolas could not help opening his eyes at this remark, and gazed sidelong into his tormentor's.

Ailinyéro smiled smugly. "Oh yes, everyone knows about your specific preference. Did you think that was a secret? Did you think no one knew why you ended up in the border patrol as an archer and not a captain?"

Legolas was breathing harder and Ailinyéro continued squeezing and playing with him.

"Andamaitë told me about it; your whole company knew. Why do you think you were in Talagan's company? Your father used their friendship to place you there while that poor soul you chose for a lover was sent off as a messenger to 'Lorien."

Legolas could not help listening; this was not a story he had ever had the complete truth about.

"Do you know what happened to him? I wonder what excuse he gave you for never returning; or did he bother to give any at all?" Ailinyéro looked into his eyes; he already knew Legolas did not know. "Your father told him, if he ever fucked you again, he would have him castrated!"

Legolas' eyes went wide at this and Ailinyéro laughed at his reaction.

"How your father must despise you!" He commented viciously and was pleased to see the pained look that flashed through his captive's eyes. "He told Talagan you were a disappointment and a disgrace!" He added, then he turned his gaze down with disapproval as he noticed the archer's lack of response to his touch. He sighed in mock distress and made one or two sucking noises with his teeth as he shook his head.

"This will not do; here I am trying to give you some comfort from your long and lonely isolation, and you can not seem to get motivated!" His tone was demeaning and cruel in contrast to the soft and gentle caress of his fingers up and down Legolas backside. "But then I suppose you do not really need to be engorged to be taken, do you?" As he spoke these words Ailinyéro thrust two fingers abruptly into Legolas' anus, and he arched away and cried out sharply. The movement carried him right against Ailinyéro's chest, who wrapped his arm tightly around Legolas' waist to hold him there, working his fingers roughly in and out as his captive struggled.

"Daro! [Stop]" Legolas gasped out hoarsely, but Ailinyéro only chortled softly into his ear.

"No, you do not want me to do that, really. Why, I am the best lover you will know for the rest of your sorry days, Hecilo! Do you know, I do not even think the Noldorin elves of Imladris would dirty themselves inside of you!" He murmured in low tones seductively pitched in contradiction to the brutality of the statement. He gave a last depraved stab with his fingers and pulled them out, swiping them with disgust across the archer's chest. "Nor will I!"

He stood up and backed away a few paces to watch as Legolas labored to catch his breath and relax his body, letting his arms take his weight for a few moments. Ailinyéro cocked his head slightly as though considering a problem.

"You still do not seem to be enjoying yourself at all, Hecilo," the mocking false concern returned to his words. "Perhaps you are better at it than I. Yes, you should be able to manage quite well without any help. Here, you will need your hands free, will you not?" He smiled evilly and came forward, unlocking the manacles, then returned to his previous vantage. He watched as Legolas sat still, breathing deeply, staring back at him, unmoving.

Ailinyéro frowned and moved back to the far end of the room, returning with a low stool and something in his hand. He placed the stool where he had been standing and sat, stretching his legs out before him. He raised his brows as though in expectation, and still Legolas waited. He was not going to do what Ailinyéro was suggesting. Except that Ailinyéro was not merely suggesting, and grew impatient.

"Well, Hecilo, I suppose we do have the whole night but I have additional plans once this little exercise is through. Get started! What, do you not have a routine for this sort of thing? Is there someone you like to think about when you start? Try touching yourself, that usually works quite well."

Legolas stared open-mouthed. This was a new level of torment. Watching Ailinyéro do this was obscene, doing this to himself under such close and sickening scrutiny was unbearable.

Ailinyéro glared at him with rising fury and absentmindedly tossed the object he was holding up into the air. It spun; shining in the torchlight as it fell back into his hand. He repeated the motion and Legolas suddenly recognized that it was a dagger. A chill went through him as his gaze returned to Ailinyéro's menacing stare.

"Go on, I am waiting." Still Legolas remained motionless and in the next instant the other elf had leaped from his chair to land beside his captive.

He knelt there, one hand grasping Legolas genitals and the other pressing the knifepoint down against the soft flesh of the scrotum. "Or should I apply your father's remedy for such perversion as yours and geld you this night?"

Legolas had gone absolutely quiet, holding his breath and staring down in trepidation at the gleaming blade. With a grim sense of irony he recognized the dagger as his own, the one he had used on the battlefield to stab himself. How and where had this loathsome Elda come to have it? He lifted his eyes to Ailinyéro's again and swallowed.

"I will do as you say," he said dully and his heart sank at the victorious grin that spread across his tormenter's face.

Ailinyéro returned to his stool and before sitting removed his tunic and loosened his leggings, one hand already moving to free his hard erection. Legolas watched him casually stroke his own penis with one hand while he turned the blade end over end with the other. Again Ailinyéro raised his brows in expectation and Legolas awkwardly averted his eyes as he reached for his own member.

A few tentative strokes did nothing, all he could feel was shame and humiliation. He shut his eyes, trying to envision his former lover to no avail. He let his other hand drift up his body to his chest to stroke against his nipples, but they were sore and bruised, painful to his slightest touch; he winced, drawing breath sharply. He heard Ailinyéro sigh in satisfaction at this and his heart raced a little faster thinking of the dagger twisting in the elf's fingers in time to his deliberate pumping.

Ailinyéro held the knife, but Legolas was in control. Somehow this was quite unexpectedly erotic. He glanced back at Ailinyéro's hand, slowly moving up and down over his gorged and dark red cock. He was leaking drops of pre-ejaculate each time the foreskin was pulled back and the tip revealed.

Legolas fondled himself again, pulling slightly at his cock and rolling his testicles between his fingers. A deeper moan came from the other elf, and Legolas finally felt a response within himself at this sound. His groin muscles tightened and his penis twitched in his hand. He leaned back on his heels and braced himself with his arm behind him, spreading his knees wider to have better access.

Ailinyéro practically growled at this maneuver and his breath was harsh and rapid.

Legolas found himself growing hard and stroked more vigorously, listening to the sound of Ailinyéro's breathing and the movement of fabric against fabric as his arm shifted up and down. He matched his effort to this and Ailinyéro groaned in surprised delight.

Legolas stared at his tormentor through his lashes; lips parted and skin slowly suffusing with the hot flush of his rising pulse. He lifted his hips, thrusting up into his hand and watched Ailinyéro's pelvis twist in kind. Legolas repeated the spectacle; a guttural cry preceded his captor's orgasm and a stream of semen gushed over his hand. A loud roar of delight sounded from the stableyard and a number of crude comments floated over the air, mostly concerning Ailinyéro's lack of stamina.

Legolas smirked and ceased his actions, but Ailinyéro quickly rose from his place and came to the archer's side, taking his erection in his hand and stroking rapidly. He leaned in to kiss Legolas, who turned away, and so he sucked the tip of his ear instead.

Legolas quickly realized his mistake and fought not to give in to the intoxicating sensation pulsing through him. He grabbed Ailinyéro's wrist to stop him and this too proved to be an error, as he was still bent backwards and the elf still held the dagger. He watched as the shining blade rested just at the base of his cock, which was still held firmly in Ailinyéro's grip. He glanced sideways at his tormentor and carefully released his hold, watching as the movement resumed and the knife remained poised and ready.

Rapidly the elf worked his captive's penis, sliding his thumb across the sensitive slit to capture the escaping fluid as the foreskin slipped back, lubricating each downward thrust and milking more on the return.

"Look how beautiful that is," Ailinyéro whispered and smiled as Legolas' pupils dilated in response and he thrust his hips forward in spite of himself. "Come on, then; let go, Hecilo. Let me see you fountain up," he continued and increased his pace, licking again at the sensitive ear as he breathed across it.

Legolas moaned deeply and thrust forward, coming hard into his captive's skilled hands as the thick fluid cascaded down to the floor. Another rowdy bellow sounded from outside and the stableyard erupted with more gleeful remarks about the wantonness of the former prince and Ailinyéro's newest conquest. Legolas shut his eyes and felt as if he was dead inside.

This was the worst humiliation he had yet endured and he was still quivering in the aftermath of his orgasm. He suddenly felt nauseous as he realized what had happened. He had just allowed this elf that despised him to use him, and to bring forth from him the most intimate of feelings and sensations.

Legolas was not innocent by any means, but his partners had numbered only two, and these encounters had been mutually enjoyed, freely, between equals. This horrific joint masturbation he had just experienced was based on subjugation and hatred. In disgust for himself at having felt pleasure so, he turned over and vomited loudly and wretchedly, eliciting more cheers and jeering comments from the warriors outside.

Tbc