DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of Dr. Tolkien's fabulous characters….L
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Wow…this is my second fan fiction about Legolas. I'll tell you right now…I'm not a lover of him. I really just like a good character to manipulate. No offense to the Leggy lovers out there.
I know this is probably a really cliché story and I'll probably get many a good flame, but I'm going to tell you right now….YOU DON'T HAVE TO READ THIS STORY. Its called free will. Use it.
Go ahead and flame me if you feel the need, but I write to write, not for reviews. So take the flames to some other poor Mary-Sue writer and shove them up their a**.
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I must warn you…I may go a bit out of character from Tolkien's Elves. I know that they would probably never have servants or class divisions or torture and beat and rape one another, but this IS Fan fiction, so bear with me.
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STORY TITLE: If Darkness Should Fall…
RATING: R for torture, love, sexual references, and maybe an NC-17 rape chapter later…but I will make it skipable. I don't want ff.net on my back.
MAIN CHARACTERS: Legolas, son of Thranduil (canon)…
Elessa Moonstream… servant in Mirkwood Palace
Ananqua…Nobility…son of Haranuil, a Lord of Mirkwood.
PLACE/SETTING: Mirkwood….(may change)
STORY SUMMARY: (may be a bit mary-sue or cliché) Legolas finds Elessa, a beaten servant. Good friends (hmmm…) they become, but Legolas is betrothed…to the daughter of Elessa's cruel former master. Can love find a way…or will it fall from glory?
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This story shall be written in third person. If, for some odd reason, you see that I go out of it, into first person, correct me. I have a nasty habit of changing person by accident.
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PROLOGUE - Life is Death
He slammed her small body into a wall as he entered the room. A cry was heard, whether it was his cry of pleasure, or her cry of pain, was not to be distinguished.
"Stupid Dog!" he shouted at the girl. She had crumpled to the floor in a heap, "Get up!"
She stood, but not because she wanted to. Her hair, once a deep brown, now resembled the color of mud from the dried blood that clung to it. Her grey eyes were hollow from the loss of her spirit and her body was bony, a result of scarce food.
She was only a little past a century in years, but her mind held pain and knowledge far beyond her years. She whimpered as he drew closer to him, his arm raised.
It came down hard on her skull, but she had expected the blow and managed to stay on her feet.
Please she thought, a tear running down her cheek, Let me die by his hand, for life is too much to bear. Life is death to me now
A blow came down again and this time she crumpled. She looked up, tear blinded, as he removed his belt from his waist.
The sneer on his grave and cruel face was appalling. She looked away and heard dully as the belt cracked the air, meaning to intimidate her. She did not care anymore. Her senses seemed numb from to much pain.
Her arm was wrenched up by her master, pulling her body with and, and from the force, causing it to twist into an odd angle. She winced, but refrained from crying out. She knew he loved the sound of her frightened voice.
He always did this to her, almost every night, and after it, he took her to his bed, and there was when she felt the most suffering. Being bound, hand and foot, to the carved posts. Feeling his large body against her. The racking pain in her legs and abdomen. His groans of pleasure as he bore into her. It was all too much to her tired mind. She had to get away from it.
Her chance came as he walked away from the cruel infliction of the wide leather band across her back and arms. He needed something else.
She ran to the door, which was still slightly ajar…not closed all the way. With his back still turned, he barley heard as she fell from her weakness, almost hitting the stone wall head on. She stopped, taking a breath and pulled the door open.
He turned, letting out a cry of rage, and leapt at her, forgetting the chain in his hand.
With all the force she had left in her body, she threw herself through the door, slammed it behind her and ran. She could hear, as she fled, the sound of voice in pain, for she had cracked the door onto his hand.
Down the halls she ran. Not many times had she been abroad in the palace. Normally, she had been locked in her Master's room, but she knew it well enough from memory to know which way to the servant's wing.
It was the last place he would look for her, and he would look for her far and wide, but in the most of likes he would go outside first, or ask a helpful guard.
She might stand a chance for a while to go with the servants.
Finally, her weariness overtook her, and in the shadowy stony hall, she sat down, beaten back against the wall, head in arms, and cried.
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Did you like it…..there will be more coming, just wait till I can get it written.