Chapter Two.
Left alone in the quiet forest Legolas was unable to do more than curl a ball and choke on agonized sobs. His body ached all over with deep bruises blooming on his face, neck, hips and torso but worse was the burning pain deep inside him and the soul-deep horror of violation. Slowly the tears faded away and only the sound of ragged breathing filled the clearing.
The cool forest air triggered some sort of instinct in Legolas' tortured brain and his body mechanically sat up and started retrieving his ripped clothing. Blank blue eyes stared into nothing and the once subtly expressive face was empty, showing no emotion and no awareness. He was so lost in the vileness of the last few minutes that for a second time he did not hear footsteps approaching.
It had taken Aragorn much longer than he anticipated to track down a deer in the forest, proof positive that there were orcs or worse roaming the woods scaring away the game. Finally he had found a scrawny doe wandering near the path and had killed her painlessly with a well-placed arrow. The carcass slung over his shoulder Aragorn chose an easy, relatively flat path back to camp. He smiled to think of the hobbits clamoring for their dinner.
He was nearly back to camp when his elf-trained ears picked up a strange noise that sounded out of place in the quiet woods. Somewhere close was a scratching and dragging sound unlike anything he had heard before. Wary of some kind of trick Aragorn cautiously headed in the direction of the sounds, melting into the woods in the way that only elf-kind and elf-friends were capable of.
All thoughts of tricks and the enemy fled from Aragorn's mind when he arrived at the source of the rustling. The deer dropped from suddenly weak arms and for a moment he felt like his legs were about to give way. Staggering forward he dropped to his knees beside the half-clad form of his closest friend and a single word fell from his lips like a stone, 'Legolas…'
His shield was polished to a shine and Boromir was half way through sharpening his sword when Aragorn staggered back into camp with no bow, no kill and Legolas' semiconscious form hanging from his shoulder. It took all of the man's self-control to keep his face expressionless and make the same startled noises as the rest of the Fellowship. He watched cautiously as Aragorn lowered the elf to the ground and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Legolas' silence.
When the next few seconds didn't contain a flash of steel and his blood splashed across the ground Boromir risked edging around the fire a little to get a closer look at the elf. The tense knot in the man's stomach loosened somewhat as he noted the vacant look in Legolas' eyes and he wiped a mirthless grin off of his face when he realized that Legolas was all but catatonic and wouldn't be spilling their secret to anyone anytime soon. Growing bolder Boromir inched forward and laid a comforting hand on Aragorn's shoulder as the ranger knelt at the elf's side.
At the contact Aragorn started slightly but managed a sickly half-smile to acknowledge the other man's support. Boromir felt the ranger clasp his hand briefly and his heart skipped a beat before Aragorn turned away from him to tend to Legolas' wounds. All that showed of Boromir's jealousy at being dismissed was a slight tightening of his expression and he strode away to fix what dinner he could for the hobbits and inform them of the unfortunate happenings.
Distracted from the still body of Legolas by Boromir's unspoken gesture of support Aragorn drew strength for a second from the hand on his shoulder. A half-smile even made it to his lips before the reality of the situation crashed back down on him and he turned back to Legolas. Forgetting the rest of the world he focused all his healing skill on the young elf's battered body.
Working swiftly Aragorn crushed athelas leaves between his fingers and using the liquid that seeped from the plant he soon created an oily paste. Gently he spread the salve over the bleeding laceration on the elf's throat, hesitating briefly when Legolas flinched away from his touch. A disturbing thought flickered through Aragorn's mind and became a full blown suspicion as he recalled the state of Legolas' clothes when he had found him.
His thoughts reeling Aragorn continued to apply the healing ointment mechanically. Caught in the horrible implications of Legolas' injuries Aragorn found himself arguing uselessly with his inner voice and he was losing. 'Valar take them, how could someone rape an elf? It couldn't happen, how the hell could this happen?'
'Think you dolt, there are creatures as strong if not stronger than an elf. If an orc took him by surprise in the woods away from the Fellowship it would have had time to do what it would and escape unseen.'
'But he, his hearing, his sight, it isn't possible to ambush him, I know I've tried…'
'You know that he hasn't completed the ritual of Anrhydeth since leaving Lothlorien and that when he communes with the forest he is barely aware of the world until he returns from the trees. You know this and still you plead for me to tell you that this can't be so. Come now Estel, surely self-deception does not come so easily to you?'
'No… Please… This cannot be… Who would, who could do this…?'
Night fell and Legolas lay slumped with his back against a tree, seeing yet not seeing Aragorn who sat beside him like a sentinel carved from stone. Locked in his own mind Legolas couldn't control the insidious thoughts that assailed his sanity and broke through the self-discipline and self-control that elves valued above almost all else. Though the night was quiet and tranquil for most of the Fellowship, all Legolas could hear was the poisonous whispering in his head.
You are tainted now, ruined. There is no return to what you once were, no reclaiming your purity, it would have been better if he had killed you. If you were lying dead on the forest floor you would not be inflicting a shadow of your suffering on the one you love, on those you care for. You are aware that your silence protects him but you are too weak to speak, let alone reveal the true depths of the evil in the midst of the Fellowship.
He was right in what he named you, whore. He took you but you allowed yourself to be defiled. Even Aragorn was never able to catch you unawares, yet this graceless man not only got close enough to restrain you, he was able commit an act that is unheard of amongst elfkind. You cannot go back to your father or your kingdom and if you stay here… Well, what are your options? You aren't even capable of defending yourself against a mere man, if you left the safety of the Fellowship you would be dead within days. Maybe that is a possible solution…
It seems that you are too pathetic to leave your own mind let alone stand and walk away from the ones you are hurting with your weakness. So you will stay like a wraith in their midst. He will watch you, his eyes on your body remembering every touch and every scream. He will dog your every step and you will know that he is thinking of how you enjoyed his flesh inside yours, how you climaxed into his hand as he spilled inside you. You will walk next to the one you thought to love, filled with the bitter knowledge that you will never have him.
Something inside Legolas simply shut down and the vile torrent of words spewing into his thoughts faded and fell silent. In the elf's chest something small but vital snapped and he fell away from the world. Outwardly it seemed like the elf had finally fallen asleep, his eyes closed and his breathing steady if shallow, but inside he burned in the fires of shame and sickening hopelessness.
From the moment he brought Legolas back to the camp Aragorn had been tortured by the usually vibrant elf's vacant gaze and blank lifelessness. The knowledge of what had been done to his friend cut deeply into Aragorn's very soul, but on a deeper level his heart cried out helplessly in agony. Boromir had been right in his bitter assessment of Aragorn's feelings, more right than he knew, as the Elessar had yearned for and loved the prince of the Woodland Elves since the day they first met.
In the long years of their friendship Aragorn had done his utmost to hide his deepest feelings from Legolas, sure within himself that his feelings would never be returned and that their friendship would be damaged irreparably if those emotions were revealed. Aragorn had been content to walk beside the elf, just to be near his beauty and grace, but always an almost painful flame of love endured in his heart. Now, sitting beside Legolas and looking at his bruised and broken body Aragorn could barely control the pain that ate away at his mind.
The dark hours stretched out and though Aragorn was well practiced in tolerating long days and nights without sleep, the ordeal and cruel emotions drained his strength and he fell into a restless doze around an hour before dawn. The ranger's dreams were full of dark, disjointed images of Legolas walking through the forest, being stalked by a menacing shadow that got closer and closer. In his sleep Aragorn twitched, his fists clenching by his sides as his mind conjured images of large hands grabbing Legolas roughly and a shadowed body pressing against the elf's slender form. His body lying caught in sleep, Aragorn screamed deep inside his mind until he couldn't scream anymore.