Of Pleasure and Peril

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Of Pleasure and Peril

Chapter Seven/?

by Tasmia Gaylord

Rating: Hard NC 17

Warning: graphic S&M type situations but not too harsh, explicit sex
 
Disclaimer: The Tolkein characters are borrowed for private use in this story, I do not
claim to own them and have no intentions of profiting from them

Summary: King Thranduil meets his match in his private punishment chamber with
amazing consequences for all parties involved

Pairings: Thranduil/OFC , Legolas/OFC Elrond/OFC Haldir/OFC and perhaps some
others, who knows?

Feedback: Post it here or you can send me an email "Tasmia7@yahoo.com"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Legolas squatted by a small stream and carefully wiped his knives clean. There were
several other elves nearby who were washing themselves of the gore and muck that
covered them from their battle with the last of the intrusive orc party that haen
en
attempting to set up residence in the ruined tower of Dol Guldur. Smoke rose from the
burning corpses in a small ravine and every once in a while the scent would travespitspite
their best efforts to remain downwind but Legolas ordered his own elves to remain until
the last ember was completely burned in order to prevent the fire from spreading any
further into the dying undergrowth of late summer foliage. Overhead wheeled flocks of
crows who had probably been sent from Isengard to survey the situation and make due
report and, if that was so, Legolas was happy to see them up there. If this was an attempt
by Isengard to threaten his beloved Mirkwood then the futility of such an effort should be
quickly learnt. Heled led a rare smile in contemplation of the Wizard's wrath when he
found out how thoroughly and swiftly they had dealt with his foul plans.

Lórien elves had crossed the Anduin and joined them both in the battle and the burning
afterwards. They stood apart, erect and proud, in a small group a little distance away
from the Mirkwood contingent, and the Imladris twin Rangers, and every once in a while
one would send a swift arrow up into the flock of crows and send one tumbling down
into the forest beyond. The tallest one, Haldir, was speaking with Elladan and Elrohir and
Legolas joined them after testing the bonds of the one orc left alive as his father had
ordered. The fiendish beastly man orc squealed with fury through the cloth binding his
mouth but could do more than that as his entire body was trussed firmly with the silvery
gray Lórien rope, which would burn whenever he moved. Legolas was satisfied with the
bindings in short order and moved away quickly from the foul smelling creature.

"Legolas Thrandulien," said Haldir in greeting and saluted him respectfully. Legolas
returned his greeting and expressed his gratitude for the presence of the Lórien guards.
"We received word that orcs were prowling the forests of Mirkwood for several days but
we have no knowledge of their passage from the east or from Moria, which is under
constant surveillance at night. Further, it has come to our attention that these orcs run as
swiftly in the daytime as any elf or man and that is deeply disturbing news and portends a
new quickening of evil alliances in Middle Earth."

"We are all too aware that Sauron has gathered enough strength to reoccupy Barad Dur
and has been repopulating Mordor with his own orcs and southern minions but this is evil
news, indeed, if the great White Wizard has developed a traitorous heart," said Elladan
with a dour expression on his usually pleasant face. The Lórien elf shook his head with
obvious disgust at the turn of affairs for Lothlorien sat between both Orthanc and the
empty tower of Dol Guldur and it was his responsibility to the Lady of the White Wood
to preserve its safety aga all all outside forces which may try to intrude on this one last
remaining bastion of hope for this world he loved. Legolas watched his friends and
companions visibly come to terms with a changing world and desired with all of hearts to
set things to right, alone if need be, in order to restore harmony to the elven realms which
still clung to their former glory even as the age of Man progressed apace and would,
eventually, overcome the world.

"The recapture of Dol Guldur would be a pretty prize for the White Wizard or the Dark
Lord." Legolas put a hand to the shoulder of the March Warden of Lórien, "we must ally
ourselves, Mirkwood and Lórien elves, in establishing a permanent force surrounding the
tower to prevent any more like minded creatures from entering." The old tower had been
built and occupied by Sauron many centuries before and it had been a mighty battle to
overthrow him and force him to remove to Mordor. It was still a place of great evil and
gloom and it was the rare elf who would even come within view of it so hideous it was to
behold. Even the trees and plants that grew near the tower were twisted and blackened
and sickly which proved how much evil emanated from the unholy structure after all
these long peaceful years. Dark spells had been cast there, and darker deeds performed,
and the energy from these and the fumes that leaked from the left over jars and bottof
of
potions and mixtures that still lined wall after wall in the deep chambers seemed to create
an ever present atmosphere of doom that enclosed the structure in an invisible envelope.

The Imladris twins remained near the tower while Legolas followed Haldir and some of
his elves back to border of Lórien to hold a small council and decide how many elves
from each region would be necessary to keep watch over the southwest borders of
Mirkwood forest. Legolas regretted not being able to travel further into Lothlorien for his
heart was ever quickened by the beauty and majesty of the largest mellryn trees at the
heart of the forest, but he made his departure as soon as the final details were worked out
and asked Haldir to express his gratitude to his Lord and Lady for their help in these evil
matters at hand. "I am certain that my father will agree with me and we should soon all
be resting that much easier."

Haldir nodded slowly and crooked a corner of his mouth into a wry smile, "Every small
victory does help, my friend, to stem the ever flowing tide of evil," he paused and looked
over the wide Anduin towards the east, "but who will win in the end?" His silvery gray
eyes flickered for a moment as if to show that he acknowledged that the final destiny of
the elves would not be determined by battle but, nonetheless, battle would have to be
fought. Then he turned and appeared to melt into the trees and vanish from sight and
sound.

Legolas sent a small prayer of gratitude up to the Valar for such stouthearted and true
neighbors in Lórien before returning to his companions to make ready for their return. He
knew his father would be pleased to hear that this alliance would cost no treasure. But it
was a harbinger of darker days to come if even the reclusive Lórien elves were willing to
travel outside of their borders to keep their impending doom from arriving before all
were adequately prepared. Leaving Elrohir and Elladan behind to manage the
deployments of the different groups he at last turned towards home taking only a few
Mirkwood elves along with him to handle the trusseisonisoner.

It was after a few days of traveling the long distance through Mirkwood to his father's
underground dwelling that Legolas called a halt after the stars had come out and the
moon rose high to rest the horses and refresh themselves with lembas bread and wine
from the skins that hung from the saddles around a small fire near the banks of a small
riverlet that burbled and chattered to itself beside them on its way to join with the mighty
River Running. Soon the small party of elves was merry and singing softly so as not to
arouse any of the spiders which were an ever-present danger in the mighty old forest.

Suddenly, Legolas stood up straight and alert and the rest of the elves rose in silence as
the soft sound of voices reached them from a distance. Elvish voices, female at that, they
seemed raised in alarm and fear but still too far away from the small party to tell exactly
what dire situation prompted their apparent distress. Legolas had kept his group just
within the tree line that bordered the river as they traveled toward the eastern border of
the forest; an easier and quicker route for the horses. The calls and cries seemed to be
coming from the swiftly flowing riverlet itself and the orc hunters dashed towards the
sounds and were soon witness to a tiny river boat that had tangled itself in brush
collected around a partly submerged tree trunk and was trapped in the middle of the
roaring water which foamed around it on either side.

Inside the boat were two wet and miserable elleths one of which was desperately
attempting to keep the tiny craft from being completely swamped by the overpowering
water which sloshed into the boat as she bailed it out with a small cooking pan while the
other fought the tangle of limbs and brush that gripped at the boat and enteented it from
any forward motion. Legolas recognized them; the taller of the two who bailed so
desperately was Tulare, the daughter of his father's treasurer, Arthame, and the other was
her family's house maid, Averfad, the wood elf whose family had fled the forest near Dol
Guldur before Sauron was overthrown and removed himself to Mordor. What they were
doing in the boat was a mystery to be explored later after he directed his elves to bridge
the distance between the bank and the trapped boat with rope to rescue the miserable wet
elf maidens from their interrupted journeying. They were soon removed and brought to
the camp where the fire was built higher while the two wet elf maidens removed dry
clothing from a ler par pack, that the smaller of the two had strapped to her back, and
dressed behind low bushes nearby.


The two were grateful for the warm fire and sat softly munching lembas and drinking
from the proffered wineskins until their shivering slowed and finally ceased before
Legolas softly questioned them. Contrary to what his father believed, he had not been
informed by his sister, Sayri, of his father's activities within the punishment chamber the
night they had set out for Dol Guldur and, as he had been traveling for many months with
his Ranger companions investigating various rumors of war preparations amongst the
many and various evil agents of Sauron, he was unaware of the thievery of Arthame and
his subsequent trial. The maiden, Tulare, remained silent beside her small, vixenish
companion and stared gloomily into the fire but Averfad's eyes glittered with malice as
she carefully answered the Mirk pri princeling's questions without revealing much
more than the obvious facts of the matter.

They were traveling down the River Running and had diverted along thiallealler
watercourse to reach the western edge and had become trapped by the brush and were
ever so grateful towards the gallant elves for their rescue. Finally Averfad plucked at
las'las's sleeve and asked to speak to him away from the curious group that surrounded
them and they removed themselves a short distance from the camp and its fire where she
whispered so as not to be overheard by the curious elves who had doubtless more
information about the previous days events than their young lord. Legolas grew
increasingly alarmed over the tale that poured from the small elleth as she told him of
Thranduil's overly cruel use of her young mistress, without witness, and his subsequent
imprisoning of the elleth in his private chambers while she recovered from his abusive
mishandling.

"You're father grows jaded, young prince, and I fear his appetites have overcome his
ability to control them. I fear yon Tulare will never willingly join with another after
suffering his abuse, although her young body is healing quickly, unless I can find some
way to restore her faith in her self and mute the memories of his dark deeds..." hissed
Averfad. Shet mut much to his imaginings by only implying as to what brutal deeds his
father had performed upon the unwilling lass but he found her tale believable enough
when he looked back towards the fire where Tulare sat slumped in obvious despair. "I
promised her mother I would bring her safely through the southern routes and deliver her
to her kindred folk in Lórien where, perhaps, she will heal in spirit under the arts of the
Lady of Light."

"There are no safe routes through southern Mirkwood, Averfad, for two elf maidens
without weapons or horses," Legolas informed the small elf beside him, "at daybreak I
will send my father's elves along to Mirkwood to inform him of our plans for defending
Dol Guldur and I will escort you to the banks of the Anduin where the Lórien guardians
have made camp to help keep an eye to the dark tower." A strange light came into her
eyes as she agreed eagerly to his offer and removed herself from his side to inform her
mistress of their great fortune. He watched as Tulare lifted her head and turned it towards
where he stood away from them and nodded dully as Averfad spoke to her and his heart
was touched by her obvious distress.

He did not doubt the tale for this would not be the first time his evil tempered father had
done lasting harm to an unfortunate elf maiden had crossed his path when he was in one
of his maddened states. It had
been a millennia but there was one other elleth who was so mistreated that she had made
haste to escape Mirkwood and had traveled alone over the Misty Mountains seeking
refuge in the Gray Havens far to the
North, but she had not been successful and her torn and wolf tattered body had been
found by a small band of the Dúnedain and brought back to Mirkwood for a proper
burial. Her name was Dimserkiel.

The fair Dimserkiel whom he had loved with the fever of an adolescent, although his
father had not been aware of it, and the tale of the wood elf brought the pain of old
wounds to the surface afresh as he had never forgiven, or forgotten, and he steeled
himself with determination to protect the elleth, Tulare and see her safely to Lórien. His
own sense of honor and pride demanded this of him and he was glad for the chance to
rectify whatever damage had been done by his father in this situation. Not having a
deceitful heart he was unaware of how easily deceived he had been by Averfad whose
motives were not easily determined.

Tulare's distress was obvious to his eye as she sat next to Averfad. The aura of light
which emanated from her youthful body should be bright and clear but instead was faint
and flickering. The smaller wood elf had no such glow for her people had long ago
learned to wrap themselves in shadow for they dwelt in the deepest gloom of the forest
and needed to cloak themselves from the keen eyes of spiders and wolves. For centuries
Legolas had wondered if he would have been able to heal Dimserkiel's own shattered
spirit had he had the opportunity to find her before she ran away to her death. 'If it be in
my power to restore this child her faith in life then let it please be so,' he silently prayed
to the glittering stars that moved in stately procession overhead.