Title: Bound by Desire
Part : 1/5
Author : Swilite
Rating: R
Pairings : Aragorn/Legolas, Boromir/Legolas, Implied Boromir/Aragorn
Warnings : Slash, non-con, bondage, slavery, character death
Disclaimer : I don't own anything, it's just a fantasy we all share. Don't sue. All characters are wonderful figments of Tolkien's imagination.
Hey all, it's X, now working under the alias Swilite. See my main page for more info, and I'm open to emails.
This story is very AU. In it, Boromir is the King of Gondor and Aragorn is his Steward. Eomer is the King of Rohan (Theoden died... or whatever).
Also, some of the elvish traits in this story do not match those that Tolkein created. In Bound by Desire, Legolas CAN feel the cold, and random things like that. Legolas is also portrayed as much younger in this story.
This story is written from Aragorn's point of view. (Yes, apparently, hell has frozen over.)
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I first set eyes upon Legolas as our royal delegation was returning from a short visit in Rohan. 'Twas King Boromir's decision to return by way of Fangorn Forest, and one night as we were camped along the border of Fangorn, two guards returned with a bound elf in tow. They reported that they had found him bathing, deep in reverie, and they had been able to catch him off guard. Although his hands were bound behind his back and his captors had not the decency to clothe him, he remained upright, glaring at us through liquid silver eyes. Beside me, Boromir shifted and I could tell by his speechlessness that the King was as captivated as I. The elf straightened his stance and regarded us, proud even in nudity.
Boromir moved forwards, leaving me in solitude and approached the bound elf. Only a step away he halted, raising a hand and placing it upon the elf's shoulder as he ran his eyes approvingly over the immortal's body, surveying him as one would a piece of property. The elf recoiled under his gaze, automatically stepping backwards to evade the King's eyes.
'Bind him and see that he has no way to escape tonight,' Boromir ordered, advancing as his captive retreated until he could back no further, blocked by the guards that held his upper arms in a firm grip.
Boromir watched hungrily as the elf was led away towards the guard's tent, his bold eyes following the elf's supply body, admiring the slight sway in the pale hips. I diverted my eyes, unwilling to allow my interest to supply the already wounded elf further degradation.
Morning arrived and to my surprise, I found the elf appointed to my care. As we were readying our mounts for yet another day of the journey he appeared alongside the same guards that had captured him the night prior. Today however, he kept his eyes downcast in an attempt to avoid any unwanted attention, void of any of the energy he had possessed last night. At the King's request he had been given a pair of breeches and a simple tunic to hide his body though his hands remained bound tightly behind his back, his wrists red from aggravation and possibly infection. When a noose made of coarse rope was placed around his pale neck and the opposite end given to me, he raised his head and I caught a glimpse of a dark bruise covering his left cheek, evidence of either a brief scuffle during the night or simply the mark of bloodlust.
Although our entire party was mounted and the elf quickly learned that he was expected to run alongside us, he protested naught. His elven endurance far surpassed that of a human, and since we kept the horses as a fairly slow speed, he had no problems keeping the pace.
The elf was inquisitive and talkative, the curiosity of youth evident in our captive. It was during that day that I learned of his name and confirmed my suspicions that he was from Mirkwood the Great. I was informed that he was visiting Fangorn on his father's leave and no suspicions of his disappearance would become evident for several months, for his father was well aware of the vast distance between Mirkwood and Fangorn.
That night, instead of returning Legolas to the guards, I brought him to my tent and released his wrists while he remained in my company.
'Thank you,' he replied, rubbing the tender skin and rinsing it in the bowl of water I had placed before him. I took his arm and raised it for my inspection, noting the inflammation and the deep gashes where the cord had rubbed past the outer layer of skin. Legolas remained in silence until my scrutiny was complete and I informed him that I would tend to his arms.
Since my youth and the days where I lived in the house of Middle Earth's most skilled healer, it has always been drilled into my mind to carry a sufficient amount of supplies in case of an emergency. Fortunately I was able to mix a simple gauze that would ease the rope burns and chase away any infection that was beginning to set in, and Legolas watched in fascination as I smoothed it along the irritated skin.
'Are you a trained healer?' he asked, pulling his arms from my grip to survey the medicine until I grabbled his hand and returned to my task, not allowing him to withdraw until I was complete.
'Nay. I am the Steward of Gondor. It is merely chance that I am also a healer.' I supplied no more information, despite Legolas' infinitive protests and questions. My task finished, I leaned back and surveyed my work in satisfaction. 'I cannot bind your arms tonight if those marks are to heal, yet I will not risk your escape. What promise can you make that I can believe?' I asked.
'I give you my word,' Legolas replied, as though the word of a prisoner still held any value in anyone's eyes but his own. I watched him and he shifted uncomfortably under my hard gaze until I nodded.
That night Legolas slept in my tent, a long silver chain connecting his right ankle to my wrist in the offshoot chance that his desire for freedom would overcome any promise he had made. Legolas watched sullenly as I locked the cuff in place, his disgrace that I had not believed him obvious in his surly stance. I gave him one of my cloaks to warm him and folded a tunic for a pillow and the moment he stretched out on the ground at the side of my bedroll he fell into a deep sleep, acquiring the rest he had apparently not received while enduring the torment of the guards the night prior.
I remained awake for a while, watching his back rise and fall with each breath he took. Frequently, I had to remind myself that he was now Boromir's possession, yet try as I might I was unable to halt the strange feelings Legolas awoke in me. It appeared that I was the sole person the elf even showed a shard of trust towards. No, I corrected myself, not trust, for Legolas would never be able to trust those that had imprisoned him, what he showed me was a hint of friendship. Was it my Elvish upbringing that he was drawn to, or perhaps it was the fact that I was the only person who did not watch him with open greed and desire?
Morning arrived far to quickly for my wearied body, and I was surprised to find Legolas sitting upright and watching me calmly. He smiled and shifted closer when I gave a small groan and gave my shoulder a gentle shake when I would have simply rolled over and returned to sleep.
'You should not be in any rush to resume travel,' I scolded. 'Boromir will want to claim what is his once we have reached Minas Tirith.'
Apparently, the innocence of youth had it's effect, and Legolas did not understand precisely what I meant. I did not press the matter and rose, unlocking Legolas from his bind to me and handing him over to one of the guards outside as I changed my clothing. We had hardly been riding for half the day when Boromir cast me a warning glance, apparently irritated by the constant chatter that stemmed from our young captive. He drew his horse alongside my own and leaned in towards me, signaling that I should do likewise.
'I want my elf slave properly trained once we reach our destination, I will have none of the carelessness he exhibits at the present. As my Steward, you are well aware of the steps that I want taken in order to achieve such obedience.' I nodded, swallowing the emotions that rose within me and Boromir urged his horse forwards, casting a finally glance in my direction.
I returned my attention to Legolas who, at the moment, was silent. Mentally, I urged him to remain as so, but my luck was short lived.
'When shall we enter Gondor?'
'Be silent,' I commanded. Much to my dismay, the elf refused to respond to my verbal warning, and continued as though I had not spoken.
'This is the farthest I have ever been from Mirkwood-'
I raised one hand and slapped him forcefully across the face with enough strength that he stumbled in surprise, giving a small yelp of pain as the coarse rope dug into his tender neck. Hiding my emotions and regarding the elf with hard eyes, I repeated my former command.
'Be silent.'
For once, Legolas was at a loss for words. I cast a quick glance in Boromir's direction and the caught the King's eyes upon me. He gave a small nod and a coy smiled before returning the conversation around him. Legolas walked in silence, his eyes wide in surprise. Within minutes, his shock had quickly faded into anger and he hunched his shoulders, dropping his eyes to the ground in protest of the forceful treatment.
I had only to repeat my physical command once through the entire day, and when we retired for the night I brought Legolas with me yet again. Still upset from the earlier events of the day, he refused to speak with me at all except to thank me quietly for replacing the gauze upon his wrists.
That night, I slept soundly, and in my fatigue I forgot to shackle Legolas to me. When I awoke the next morning Legolas lay beside me, his eyes half lidded and unfocused as he dreamed.
'Wake Legolas,' I told him, shaking him gently and watching as his silver eyes sharpened as they focused upon my face.
'Is it morning already?' he asked, the lack of nutrition beginning to take effect on his energy.
'Aye.'
Legolas got to his feet, and it was only then that I noticed the lack of restraint.
'You had the chance to flee, yet you did not?'
Legolas raised his eyes, watching me in amusement. 'I gave you my word.'
'Thank you,' I replied. 'I would not have liked to have been responsible for the escape of Boromir's new possession.'
Legolas shrugged and diverted his eyes politely as I pulled my tunic above my head, leaving my upper torso bare as I searched my belongings for a clean garment. At last, I found one suitable for a long day's ride and quickly folded the remainder of my belongings until the majority were small enough to be tied to the back of my saddle and the remainder would be stored upon the pack horses King Eomer had given us as a parting gift.
Once my horse was saddled and prepared I returned to Legolas, who waited quietly where I had left him. A single guard stood suspiciously close by, watching the elf with a predatory look on his rugged face and I cast him a warning glance before reaching Legolas' side.
I wrapped a hand around Legolas' arm and pulled him ahead, unhappy of the attention he was attracting.
'You will behave today,' I told him, placing the familiar noose around his neck and mounting my stallion. Legolas nodded in agreement and stood in silence until Boromir motioned for our company to begin the day's travel.
We halted once in the afternoon and I checked Legolas' wrists, content to see that a small red scratch around each wrist was the sole evidence of the injury two nights prior. Elven healing truly was a blessing, for I had promised Boromir that his elf would be properly bound today and I had been brooding the entire trip on what I would tell the King were Legolas' wrists unfit for the bind I would supply. I was given a pair of cuffs and I could only hope that the metal would not become too heated by the day's end, for heat would irritate the cuts further.
I snapped the metal in placed around Legolas' outstretched arms and placed the key the pocket of my tunic. As was becoming custom, the elf said naught and simply allowed me to do as I would.
After I was fed and watered we resumed travel, and looking upon Legolas I felt pity, for the elf had received no nourishment nor any water since his capture. That night, I promised myself, I would allow him the remainder of my waterskin, for there were constantly clean rivers and springs in which I could refill it.
It was a sweltering day and by midday even I, dressed as comfortable and light as one may be in the presence of the King, was sweating profusely. The guards around me rode in silence, begrudging their choice of uniform, and though I felt sorry for them, none had my empathy more the Legolas who stumbled along wearily, often raising his shackled hands to pry away the hair stuck to his face and wipe the fresh layer of sweat that had broken out upon his brow. He was panting heavily and even seated upon my mount, who was by no account short, I could hear his ragged breathing. He stumbled frequently as the heat leached his remaining energy and I could do naught but look upon him, unable to offer my aid incase Boromir think me soft and place Legolas in another's care.
Thankfully, the King had had enough of the cursed temperature and we halted at the borders of the first forest we came upon, blessing the shelter their shadows supplied.
'Never again,' the King cursed, 'shall I leave Minas Tirith during the summer. How I long for my chamber at moments such as this.'
'Yes,' I agreed, thinking longingly of the cool study I could be within were I not required to accompany each of Boromir's delegations. I removed the noose from Legolas' neck and he sank to his knees, placing his palms as far apart as the shackles would allow and placing them flat against the cool dirt.
'Rise, Boromir will not be content if you spoil you clothes,' I told him, offering no aid as he gave a small moan and resumed his footing, leaning heavily against my stallion for support.
The majority of the guards had pitched their tents and I did likewise, pulling the flaps aside should a slight breeze blow and resting upon my bedroll. Legolas joined me, sitting by my side and watching the activity outside with unfocused eyes.
I know not what we did wrong, but the Valar insisted on punishing us and in direct contrast to the sweltering day, the night was extremely cool and bitter. Legolas trembled, unable to find enough warmth in the light tunic so I gathered him in my arms, holding him until the worst of his shivers had subsided and then giving him a warm cloak to rest in. He wrapped it tightly around his body and joined us for a small fire outside, wisely keeping silent when small trees and living boughs were cut to supply more fuel for the flames.
That night I fell asleep with Legolas in my arms, his head tucked beneath my chin and my arm draped protectively around his waist. The moment we lay down he fell asleep and I too was pulled into the world of dreams without delay, sleeping soundly for the first time since leaving Edoras, unaffected by the temperature beyond the ethereal body pressed tightly against my own.
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