Disclaimer: I only own a few things – my guitar, my diet coke and my bag of nacho's. unfortunately, I don't own the lovely Legolas. If I did, he'd be tied up to a bed somewhere…. ^_^ EG …INCEST WARNING! press the back button if that irks you. but its only a hint of it for now.

Elvish in italics, kids. I hope it's right, I gained some from other people, and some from translators. Don't hurt me, if you spot something that's yours or that is wrong. Ask kindly, and I will remove the material. ^_^ thanks kids. OOH! A warning – a rather gloomy fic compared to my earlier work, which I'm thinking of removing…. unless it gets more reviews… and a better storyline… lol

Set before the Fellowship – AU – before he has met any of the others.

By the way, the main character is Legolas – just to clarify for the beginning !

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Morning comes slowly. A moonless sky over dense forest glimmering with stars, light barely radiating down to accentuate a palace. A dark background makes a dramatic stage for cream white curtains that flutter and fly. Behind the curtains lies a different world. Shrouded from view, a world of torment and secrecy lies hidden. In a bed of silk sheets and light coverlets, soft lines, and smooth curves typical of Elvish body structure lies broken, still and tainted.

Breath coming in short rasps, chest rising slowly… painfully. A song in the dark…sweet and haunting. There is a figure on the bed, next to the elf.

Another – of his own kind. His brother sings to him, stroking his hair and leaving the touch branded to his skin.

"Amin hiraetha, melamin. Lle tyava quel?" (I'm sorry my love. Do you feel well?) Softly spoken words bring no comfort to the broken body, save to only know the harsh reality that he is still alive. His brother had tormented him that night, as always. Humiliating, beating, hurting, and scarring forever the ethereal beauty that knelt before him. Bending to his will, succumbing to his perverse fantasies, to save himself from pain. "Forget your pride, if just for tonight, child." were always the whispered words in the dim light of the evening, as the sun abandoned him, leaving Legolas only partially aware of the footsteps that fell outside his door, the click of a key in a lock and the gentle caress of his kin. He never liked it, but he could never escape it. Like a virus it spread through him. Every night it was the same – the pain overcoming the pleasure.

And after, he felt dirty, tainted and unclean. Morning never came fast enough. Digging it's heels in the dirt the night had brought.

His father never cared. He did not value the adoration his youngest son gave to him. Perhaps, the only one that cared for the Prince, was the middle of the three sons of king Thranduil. Three brothers – the tormented, the tormentor and the saviour. Haden was the oldest – the tormentor, and Aelis, the rescuer, and Legolas' one hope in an abyss off despair.

Of course, King Thranduil did not know what was happening to his youngest behind closed doors, on lonely nights and in the darkness. Haden was careful about his business. Not even Aelis knew everything about what went on.

Legolas waited, tense and frightened every night for his brother to come. Some nights he did, and others he did not. On the nights he did not come, relief was welcomed with grateful hands. Yet, on the nights Haden did come to Legolas, there was pain and terror.

Aelis tried his best to talk to his youngest brother, but the most he would get out of him was whispers that didn't make sense. Aelis did not like to see his brother cry, yet he held him close when he did. On rare occasions, Legolas wept for his mother. Fallen under an orc's blade as so many before her. He would cry silent tears for her, and murmur "Naneth" - mother – with a quiet, pleading voice. He wished for her embrace again, and for her sweet songs of better times, not the haunting melodies Haden sang to him. Songs of loss, and of bad things.

Words did not help Legolas, that Aelis knew. Many times had he attempted to comfort his brother, unsuccessful every time. He simply did not want to hear that his situation might improve, for Haden had forced him to believe he would go on like this until his dying day. Legolas thought about the day he would die, and hoped that it would come soon.

But, like morning, it never came fast enough.

TO BE CONTINUED!!!!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA

READ AND REVIEW!!!!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

FLAMES WILL ONLY BE USED TO LIGHT MY INCENSE BURNER SO DON'T EVEN TRY MATEY!!!!!!! MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

ahem. thank you for reading my fic! ^_^ and thanks to all you nice people who REVIEW! lol.