Where The Shadows Lie

Thanks to Sarah and Meso for the reviews!!! I'm glad you like this! Mm...yes, dark Legolas is hot. *drool* ;) I would pay big bucks to see that on screen...even more to see it in real life. ;D

*

“Do you understand my orders, penneth? (young one?)” He walked behind the chair then leaned over it, invading her space with his presense. His hands found her shoulders, rubbing firmly. “You understand what we want?” He did not wonder if he could trust her, for he had the gift of foresight. This was necessary, if risky.

Éowyn nodded, not moving. She never showed emotion towards his advances, nor those of his son. She had not screamed when he placed the Ring of Air on her hand as did many of the Elves he had forced the dark communion upon. Mortals were so tainted, so dark. The call of the Dark was was no great pain. He glared across the room, squeezing her pale flesh in his momentary lapse of bitterness. “I understand,” she said, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Lord Elrond inhaled and let her go. She had fought hard, but being a mortal the struggle had not lasted long. Not even Saruman had endured against the mind of Sauron. Even Elrond knew his own fight was fast being lost. He came before her, sitting against his desk and looking down into her face with sparkling gray eyes. “Then you will wear the ring of Gandalf? You will subvert the will of Boromir?”

The blond never smiled at him despite her sworn allegiance. He did not truly expect her to, but her incessant hatred troubled him nonetheless. Yet his visions never changed. This girl served his purposes without fail in every dream. “I will do as I see must be done,” she countered, furthering his frustration. “When do we leave?”

He frowned at her, considered changing the plan. Yet down that path he saw only failure. Legolas would kill Boromir if he remained and in his wrath Sauron would forsake the allegiance Elrond offered to placate him until such a time as he could be defeated. Rivendell would be destroyed, the Elves mutilated into another race of Orcs. He had to trust letting them go would see this plan to success.

Still, if Boromir had fallen as easily as Éowyn, it would have been more to trust in hope. Elrond cursed Galadriel for teaching the Steward how to combat the call of the Dark One. But what was done, was done. He would have to trust his visions. The seeds of darkness had been planted in Boromir, had come to fruition in Éowyn. These two things would bring about Boromir’s fall to darkness. Then Elrond would use him to strike against Sauron at a critical moment.

He touched the ring on his fr, lr, listening to the horrible call of the shadow. This would have to happen swiftly. “I will send you away tomorrow. Lord Celeborn will be here and I would rather avoid his meddling in my affairs concerning this.”

The Lord of Rivendell reached for a small box on his desk. Opening it revealed the Ring of Fire, the ring Gandalf had worn until his demise before the Black Gates. Aragorn had taken it, kept it on his person at all times until his own death. Now it would go to Éowyn, that she would wear it and be kept in contact with him through the link between the rings. He opened the box and offered it to her.

Éowyn removed the ring without hesitation, but did not put it on. She held it within her fing loo looking at the jewel it bore. Fire seemed to dance in the depths of her eyes. “I will go and make ready then,” she whispered, still gazing at it. He knew what she was feeling. He knew well the call she heard.

As she raised up, he darted a hand over hers. Éowyn looked into his eyes as he took the ring and slipped it onto her finger, then let go. “Mathich nin? (You feel me?)” he asked in a soft tone.

She nodded, then widened her eyes. “I understood.”

He said nothing in reply, merely motioned towards the door. The coldness returned to her expression as she took her leave of him.

*

“There you are.” The voice was rough, annoyed. Alisceon awoke to the sudden tight grip around her arm. She was jerked to her feet and became aware immediately that she had not been pulled up from a bed. The library. She had remained there all night; had not been disturbed. A well of panic opened up within her as she looked up into Legolas’s flashing eyes.

Alisceon steeled herself, prepared for anything. His wrath ran deep. She could see it in his eyes, the violence reawakened. It would do no good to try and talk to him. There were no words to say.

He shoved her away from him, eyes burning through her as he advanced. “You think my wrath is for you, but it is not.” He gripped her arm again and jerked her into him. “Come, meleth.”

Instead of hitting her, the Elf dragged her towards the exit. For the moment she allowed herself to take the situation in and let the surprise recede. He pushed her through the doors roughly, put kept a firm grip on her. She could almost feel the color draining from her flesh. The pain brought voice to her confusion. “Where are we going?” she asked hard, praying it wasn’t to his rooms.

“Outside!” he hissed, squeezing her arm and winning a groan of pain. He ignored it. “I have been commanded to bring you there! Curse him, that half-Elven bastard!”

His reply did nothing to alleviate her confusion. She could imagine no reason at all why anyone would command her presense outside. Thinking on Haldir’s death only furthered her tension. Would they punish him by killing her or handing her off to some other Elf? The latter prospect frightened her almost as much as the first. Despite her worry she pressed on for knowledge. “What is outside?”

Legolas remained silent. His eyes did not stray from his forward glare as they traversed the home. Other Elves saw his expression and avoided crossing their path, inclined to back away or reroute their paths altogether. He seemed not to notice any of them or the fact that she practically stumbled to keep up with his quick gait.

Along the way she began to notice they were headed towards the front, not the rear. When they came to the front doors, they stopped and he whirled her around to face him. His eyes glistened in fury as he pulled her close. “You remember one thing, Niriel. You are mine.” His arms wrapped around her and she tried in vain to push him away as he kissed her. It was a hard kiss, rough and possessive. They both panted as he pulled away and hissed, “Elrond means to release you, but know this. I will come for you. I will never let you go.”

Alisceon knit her brow as the angry Elf shoved the doors open and ushered her outside into the chill before she could retort. Release? Was this his punishment for murdering Haldir? A dozen speculations entered her mind, dancing between the possibilities. He jerked her onwards through the morning mist and when he hissed, she looked up. Éowyn and Boromir were under heavy guard at the gate where Elrond stood. There were three horses waiting near the congregated group.

Lord Elladan stood beside his father, his expression emotionless and his arms folded. At his right was Éowyn, her blond hair moving with the soft breeze. She watched Alisceon’s approach with uncertain eyes.

On the ground was Boromir, crouched on his knees with blood on his lip. He favored his right side, looking pale and abused. He also watched her coming with a somber expression. When their eyes met Alisceon jerked her gaze up from him to Éowyn again. She didn’t bother to see his reaction.

“Finally,” Elrond stated, neither vexed nor joyous at her arrival. He motioned her on to take her place with her friends. Legolas, she noticed, watched after her with hard eyes. His promise filled her with a sense of loathing. If he could help it, she knew he would come. The voice of Elrond could not pull her completely from her worries, despite her curiousity. “Without doubt you wonder why I am suddenly being so generous in letting you go. To be honest, I care little what you make of my motives. Therefore I will not waste time explaining. Travel at your own pace. Go where you will. We will not stop you.”

Holding his right side, Boromir glared up at the Elven lord. “No, but we will walk into a trap ahead, will we not? Or is it another game you play? You know some of your so-called people will not be content to allow us to leave.” He groaned out in pain as an Elf brought him up to his feet; almost fell from the intense sensation such a quick movement brought to him.

Elrond clasped his hands together. “If you wish to stay, by all means we shall accommodate you with graves beside Aragorn’s.”

The Steward jerked his shoulder from the Elf’s grasp, then walked slowly to where Elrond stood. He spit on the ground before the half-Elf. “I would that have been your grave, Elf. Someday we shall meet in battle and I will decorate my sword with your blood.” The Lord of Rivendell smiled mildly, then turned away, waving his hand in dismissal. Guards with bows aimed at them watched each and every move they made.

Legolas did not depart, growling, “Niriel!” as he watched Alisceon approach a horse.

She turned her head, unable to watch him as she left. Éowyn lowered her eyes and nodded her cousin towards Boromir. “Pay no mind, Alisceon. Elrond will not let him leave Rivendell.”

Alisceon grunted as Boromir leaned against her right, uninvited and scarcely wanted. His warmth invaded her senses, though. She frowned and glared at the horses. “Not let him leave? What should Elrond care what they do? You heard him. He would just as soon see us dead as freed.”

“I doubt that,” Boromir grunted, wincing as they let him go beside his horse. He took the saddle by the horn and attempted to mount, but couldn’t. Alisceon saw his tunic soaked in blood on the right side. Éowyn nodded Alisceon over, but she refused, crossing her arms defiantly. His stormy eyes flashed at her behavior, but he did not remark on it. “Think, Alisceon. If that were the case he would have killed us. He has no mercy as to just let us go. He wants us to leave for a reason and I doubt he’s so conscientious of seeing the youths of Rivendell entertained as to arrange a chase for them.”

As he lifted his leg over the saddle, Alisceon ‘helped’ him along by shoving him up and he hissed in a breath, then tried to bat at her angrily. She gave him a mock-sweet expression, then mounted her own horse. Each of them gave Rivendell one last look, each glad despite the unknown reasons behind their departure. Éowyn was the first to turn away, followed immediately by Boromir.

When she finally turned, Alisceon felt none of the weight of their experiences lifted from her shoulders. She had expected to feel better, but the heaviness remained. Biting her lip, she looked for a distraction—any distraction—which was why she, in her own terms, demeaned herself by speaking to the Lord of Gondor. “So why is it you think he let us leave, then?”

He shot her an annoyed look, then kept his eyes straight. He seemed nervous about this. “That I do not know. Perhaps it has to do with Lord Celeborn’s coming.”

The blond shook her head, absently running her hand along the mane of her mount. Her voice was quiet this morning. “Why would one Elf cause such unrest?”

Boromir rubbed his side, then examined the sticky blood on his fingers. They weren’t going to get very far before needing to rest. “Lord Celeborn is very wise. A power in his own right. I do not pretend to understand Elves—any Elves,” he added the last with a grunt and sidelong glace at Alisceon, “but he and Lady Galadriel seemed a force to be reckoned with. As a dark power they could be worse than even Elrond.”

“Do you think it has come to that?” Éowyn asked, looking up. His only reply was an unreadable shrug.

*

Bree was a chilly, wet little town. The rain had gone on for about two days and here on the third daytheitheir little stay did not seem any more ready to stop. Boromir would have nothing of waiting any longer, either. By morning they were to leave, come rain or shine. Personally Alisceon did not know what they were doing this far west anyway. Instead of going south Boromir had taken it upon himself—as self-appointed leader—to suggest they go westwards a ways so as to avoid doing anything the Elves may have predicted. When they came to Bree all three of them had sighed in relief.

The Men here were homey and quaint. They allowed Boromir in, seeing as how he had the look of “important folk” and was wounded. The innkeeper was kind and even offered to arrange for the town healer to come without need of charge. It was not the comfort of Rivendell, not even Rohan, but Alisceon was grateful to be warm and well fed.

She sat by the window in the bedroom she and Éowyn shared, gazing out at the townspeople that wandered the streets, seeing about their business. Part of her did not look forward to leaving. It felt safe here, as if nothing had happened. She would not want to build a life here, but if forced to it would not be so bad. But leaving would be distance from Rivendell. When night came it brought dreams. In her mind she could hear Legolas promising he would come for her when footsteps sounded in the hall she would tense in expectation.

Such footfalls entered the hall now and she had to force herself to realize she had been watching the streets. No one had entered town. Yet when they stopped at her door, she felt nervousness well up inside her. The door shook when knocked upon, quickening her pulse for a second, until a voice said, “Alisceon, it is I. May I come in?”

Alisceon glared at the door, crossing her arms and leaning back. “Go away, Boromir,” she called back, turning her eyes back towards the outside. Just where was Éowyn, anyway?

The handled turned and she cursed herself for not locking it. Boromir entered, shut the door behind him and stopped to look at her. “No,” he said simply, scouting for a chair. He f one one and straddled it, watching her intently.

She let out a breath, making certain to let her expression show how not amused by his behavior she was. His smile made her scowl. “Say what you have to say, then get out.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her plainly, crossing his arms over the back of the chair.

Alisceon waited a moment, then looked away. “Great. Get out.”

“No.” He was really starting to aggravate her.

Hauling him bodily from the chair to the door was not an option, despite his tender side. Before allowing them to depart Elrond’s sons had given him quite the beating to made certain he would be subdued for the leave taking, but he remained well enough. So she stood and headed towards the door, muttering, “Fine. Entertain yourself.”

Boromir got up before she made it, closed the door so hard she jerked her hand off the handle to avoid being pinched, then pushed her against it. “I will not leave without your forgiveness,” he stated very firmly.

“You have it.” Her tone was cold as she tried to duck under his arms. He wouldn’t allow it, however.

“I explained why I said those things to you in Elrond’s dungeon,” he reminded her, holding her to the door. “Yet you avoid me, revile my kindness and you sabotaged my pint of ale. I know Rohirrim men do not season their drinks with flakes of pepper.” He knit his brow suddenly. “Do the women?”

Ignoring his humor, Alisceon put hends nds on his shoulders to keep him as far away as she could. His warmth did nothing to heat her anger towards him. It was unwelcome, if not unpleasant. “Sure they do,” she told him smartly, giving him a cynical little smile. She shoved, but he did not move. “You’re really starting to annoy me. That’s a strange way of asking forgiveness.”

He smiled and touched a hand to her cheek. “Surely you do not want flowers or sweets, do you?” His rough fingers traced to the tip of her ear. “No, my dearest, you want blood in repayment, do you not?”

“Blood would suit me,” she hissed, shoving him hard. He pressed against her only the harder. “Blood would suit me just fine.”

Boromir laughed lightly, kissing her forehead, then going for her cheek. “My blood belongs to Gondor, unfortunately. But you have my body. Spend your wrath upon me however you feel you must.”

Alisceon balled her fist and sent it into his stomach, shoving him away when he doubled over. “You disgust me.” She reclaimed her place by the window, not sitting, but avoiding his gaze. She knew why he had said those hurtful things, but it didn’t make her any less angry with him for it. She was tired of not knowing what to expect of anyone.

Something light hit the floor. The half-Elf turned and saw Boromir working on the navy tunic he wore beneath his leather over-coat that was on the floor at his feet. Her eyes went wide and he grinned, opening his shirt so that his chest was visible. “Come now, Shield-maiden. Do not be shy.”

“You had best not remove another thing, Boromir,” she threatened, waving her finger at him.

Bor und undid his belt and started pulling it from the loops, watching her with a heated gaze. He began for her and cornered by the window, she had nowhere to go. Angry, tired and frustrated, Alisceon leaned against the window until she was completely against the glass. The Lord of Gondor licked his lips and put his hands on the wood trim. His pelvis brushed into her belly, causing her to swallow hard. “You tell me, Alisceon, if I go too far.”

Her eyes closed by their own will as his face came to hers, his mouth invading hers without care to ask permission. She could taste the alcohol on his lips, a remnant of biting alcohol that made her knit her brow as he won past into her mouth. His tongue insistently demanded the full compliance of her own, caressing firm as his hands found her shoulders. He started rubbing and that’s when she shoved him. “You go too far,” she growled, crossing her arms as he leaned over her again.

He kissed her forehead, then caressed the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Then what is right for me to do when I wish to love you?”

“Love me?” Alisceon shivered as he pushed the neckline of her dress to one side, then began touching her bared shoulder. Her tone was biting, but she felt herself wanting to melt into his warmth again. “You mean…”

“Ah-ah,” he breathed, putting his fingers on her lips. “Say nothing that will make me angry with you.”

Alisceon batted his hand away fror mor mouth, looking down at his open tunic as he pushed the sleeve down her arm further. “Why? What would you do if I did?”

His tongue met her flesh, teeth biting softly as he kissed. “I would cry,” he whispered, then stilled against her.

She couldn’t help it. Alisceon burst into laughter and hated him for it. Boromir looked into her face, his eyes alight with his own humor as he brushed her hair behind her ear. He smirked when she punched his shoulder, trying hard to scowl through her smile. “You are such a bastard.” A stray strand of his auburn hair fell across his eyes and she smoothed it away, irritated at the way it made her want to give in.

“I am a bastard,” he admitted, going for her jaw. Alisceon bit her lip as he trailed to her ear and flicked his tongue across her skin. “Not in the physical sense, of course, but yes. I am. Forgive me?”

Alisceon gripped the hem of his tunic and eased it open, sending her hands across his muscular form. “No, I do not,” she told him plain.

He laughed, nuzzling against her throat, his voice becoming husky in desire. “But you will accept my service?”

She licked her lips, fingering the rim of his pants. “No, but I will accept you getting the hell out of my room and taking your so-called sword with you.”

“So-called?” Boromir frowned testily, taking her hand and nipping her fingertips. “I said I would not leave without your forgiveness, my lady. I suggest we come to an understanding before old age takes me, leaving you to choose a mate from the Men of Bree.”

She pushed his tunic down his arms, pleased at the effect. He edged closer. “Who ever said I would choose you as a mate even if I did forgive you?”

“Could you resist?” he asked, letting the shirt slide to the floor. He snaked his arms around her, drawing her into a firm embrace, smoothing his hands up her back. Boromir again pressed in to kiss her, tracing his tongue along her lips first, before plunging in. She could feel his fingers working at the ties of her dress.

When he pulled away, she raised her chin defiantly. “I could resist.”

He smirked when the ties loosened her clothes, peered down the front of her dress. “Yes, you really look like you’re resisting me.”

Alisceon gathered her dress to her chest, frowning at him. She ducked his hold and stalked towards the washroom, but he would not give up. Arms surrounded her waist and she gave out a yell as he jerked her back into his arms, pulling her towards the bed. “Let go of me you son of a bitch!” she hissed.

Boromir tossed her down to the bed and crawled over her. “Not until you forgive me.” He laid his weight over her, sliding his arms around her again. His held her close, find her throat to mark her.

She let out a huff of a breath, trying not to pay attention to his leg inserting between her thighs to rub. “And forgiveness means sleeping with you?”

He stopped kissing and looked down on her through half-lidded eyes. “Not at all. Be angry and use me to your heart’s content, or love me and deny me. Though if I thought for a moment you did not want this I would stop.”

“Why do you think I want it?”

Boromir smirked and jerked her dress down, baring her breasts. “I am irresistible.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re an ass.”

He nodded in concession, brushing his thumbs against her sensitive flesh, saying, “Indeed,” before be bowed his head to her chest, lapping at one side. Her lashes fluttered when his teeth nipped at the upraised center, accompanied by his hungry suck. “Tell me to stop,” he challenged, gripping her skirt and easing it up her thighs.

“Éowyn might come in,” she warned, grasping the sheets as he caressed his hand down her warmth.

He moved down her body, kissing her abdomen and trailing down her pelvis. “Let her come.” His strong hands pinned her legs open to the bed. Alisceon tried to keep herself away from his kiss, but inevitably his mouth found her heat. She squirmed beneath his tongue as he tasted her flesh.

She could feel his lips against her, biting at her as his tongue swept rhythmically over her sensitive spots, drawing a tension across her belly. Her hand flew up, gripping the pillow beneath her head as she moved against his invasion. She could feel the need sweeping across her and breathless, she whispered, “Boromir…”

Boromir sat up, looked into her face with a half-smile. “You want me to stop?”

“I…” she said, still panting from the pleasure that lingered. By no means did she want him to stop, but anxiety kept assaulting her. Helplessly, Alisceon looked into his eyes.

His expression softened as he crawled up again, pressing his mouth against hers softly. “It is all right to want this, Alisceon. And it is all right if you don’t.” He nuzzled against her cheek, his heavy breath filling her ears. “Only say that you forgive me. Then we can find something else to argue over.”

She laughed and ran her fingers through his hair, drawing her thigh up over his. “We’ll see,” she said contritely, reaching her hand down to rub into his pants, over his hip. He inhaled when she parted the fabric, positioning him. “For now I want this.”

Boromir obliged her, bracing himself and entering her body with a hungry look. He watched her inhaled deeply while he thrust as far as he could, the stopped to enjoy her movements. He took her hand and kissed it, bringing himself back up, then plunging down again. “Then I shall obey.”

He let go of her hand then, smoothing his fingers beneath her thigh. Alisceon arched when he jerked it up and surged forward at the same time, his movement sending jolts of pleasure throughout her body. He captured her moan with his mouth, demanding recompense for his labor as he kissed her. “This pleases you?” he hissed, parting their lips for a moment as he thrust fast and hard a few times.

Alisceon wrapped her arms around his strong back, her fingers digging into his flesh. She brought her hips into his, meeting him and savoring the deep sound of his groan. Boromir’s forehead fell against her shoulder, his face tilting inward so he could press kisses to her throat. He was relentless in driving towards their pleasure and soon she could feel the stirring in her abdomen. Alisceon closed her eyes, caressing her hand up into his hair and drinking in the onslaught of bliss jolting through her.

He slowed down and she groaned, tightening her fingers among those red-gold strands as he took pleasure from teasing her. She heard a small intake of breath, a light laugh of enjoyment at her shivering. His hand met her hip and steadied her from taking it too quickly. “Look at me,” he whispered.

She drew her lashes up and focused hazily on his blue eyes, watching them widen subtly with his satisfaction as he surged forward and caused her to moan. “Boromir,” she said low, smoothing her hand across his moist back. He kissed the side of her lip and she closed her eyes again. “Faster.”

He was quick to oblige, coming close to the threshold of his own release. He let go of her body, bracing his hands down on the bed as he rolled forward hard again and again. The tension in her body piqued in response to his sudden jerking thrusts and she tangled her legs into his, squeezing her thighs against his hips as she began to lose control. “That’s right, Alisceon. Show me your pleasure,” he groaned, kissing her shoulder as she moaned out.

A few hard thrusts caused her to shudder as she lay beneath him, then he too lost himself, falling against her. He panted for breath, grasping the pillow under her head, his hot breath hitting her moistened skin. Alisceon took again to brushing her fingers through his hair as she caught her breath. It seemed very quiet now and very warm. Until he spoke. “You see?”

She waited a moment, then breathed, “See what?” as he looked down into her face in amusement.

“I told you I was irresistible.” He smirked and jerked her up into a kiss before she could speak, then moved off and beside her. She moved to get up and rearrange her clothing, but he pulled her against him before she could. His strong arms held her tight as he rested his forehead against hers, rubbing her arms to warm them in the descending chill. “We have little time before we must leave.”

Alisceon felt her eyes drifting shut as she replied, “Éowyn will wonder why she no longer has a place to sleep.”

He laughed lightly, sounding tired. “There is room behind me. I would not be opposed to bedding with you both.” He gasped when a knee nudged his groin rather indelicately.

She frowned into his now wide eyes. “Very funny.”

Boromir grinned. His hand cupped her cheek and his mouth found hers. “I know that you thought it was funny.”

“Not.” She settled again.

He took a breath, mumbling, “It was.”

Alisceon pinched his arm, but he scarcely noticed. When she tried to do it harder the action got lost in soft slumber.

*

(adds this to the list of TBC stories. ;
Penneth. – Young one.
Mathich nin? - You feel me?