Title: Out of the Safety of the Wood
Authors: No Tears, with a considerable amount of help from Dollrandir
Summary: Making their way back into Mirkwood, Legolas and Naruhitu are attacked, and
Legolas is taken captive while Naruhitu is left for death.
Rating: R
Warning: Violence/torture, bdsm, rape, and all that good stuff. I've decided to go further into this
fic and explore the realm where Legolas is in a non-consensual Master/Slave relationship.
Eventual slash! Though nothing really graphic will be placed in this version of the story, as I must
heed the rating rules of FF.net. But, if there is a more graphic version of a chapter and you wish
to read it, I will be placing the website for it up when the time comes.
Disclaimer: We don't own anything made by Tolkien! Naruhitu, however, belongs to Dollrandir.
All the other icky bad guys are mine!
No Tears' Notes: Sorry for the delay of this chapter! I will try to get the next one out sooner, but
as of now I'm not gonna promise anything!
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Part 3: No Hope For Escape
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Dantar watched impassively as five of his men uncovered the cage where the Elf was being kept.
Twilight had begun its descent nearly an hour ago, and had finally given way to darkness. The
caravan never traveled during the day, for the chances of opposing forces attacking were too
great. One had to be on their guard while moving about in this land. Several nomadic groups lived
here, and were constantly competing with each other. Though death in great numbers was
somewhat of a rarity, thieves and slave traders such as himself were not.
Dantar had come into slave trading at a very young age, and under his father's tutelage had
become very proficient at it. When he turned 33, he had grown tired of catching men, and had
decided that he was going to try for the unheard of task of catching a full grown, male warrior Elf
to sell as a slave. The first attempts were horribly futile, and he nearly lost his life on more than
one account. However, he had soon found the best ways to render an Elf unable to escape
capture. The ambush technique used on the Mirkwood prince and his companion was just one of
many. He also found out soon enough that if an Elf was not securely held and watched at all times
then there was a good chance it would escape.
And his talent was not merely in slave trading either, but many masters required his help when
dealing with an impossibly disobedient slave. In the past, those who had taken an Elf slave and
refused his assistance had met with several large complications. The Elf would either escape or be
killed by the master's foolish actions, and even on one account the Elf had murdered his own
master before he himself was slain.
Dantar knew that the particular buyer of his newest acquisition would gladly take his offered help.
The man looked forward to breaking the luscious beauty inside the cage that was now being
opened. He knew that this would be an especially delicious experience, for the Elf was more fair
than any being he had previously laid eyes on, and had the will and ferocity of a tiger to match.
But, even tigers can become but obedient kittens under the right persuasion, he thought with a
smirk.
Folding strong and well muscled arms, the man watched as the Elf was roughly yanked out of the
cage by a group of his men and set on his feet. The captive's ankles were to remain bound
securely together; Dantar was taking all precautions necessary to keep the Elf under his power.
He was well aware of the great balance Elves possessed.
His eyes glittered as he watched the lithe body of the Elf begin to fight against the men holding
him, then doubled over when a painful fist crashed into his stomach. The Elven prince was trying
to protect his bruised abdomen from any more harsh blows, and the men around him took
advantage of his bent over position by grabbing his hair tightly to hold his head down. The Elf
jerked against their grips, but his attempts to dislodge them did no good as they firmly pressed
him down. Dantar saw another man approach with a length of rope and begin to wrap part of it
around the prince's neck. The man watched as shock registered in the Elf's eyes followed by a
fierce struggle as he tried to prevent the man from tying off the loop around his neck. He made it
hard enough that they had to force him to the ground and hold him there to finally get the rope
bound tightly enough around his neck.
They pulled him to his feet, and with three men, two of which who were grasping his arms and the
third holding the lead of the rope, he was hauled forward. Though resist he might, he could not
defeat the odds against him and was eventually dragged over to where Dantar was standing. The
stance of the Elf was awkward because of his bound ankles, but he managed an air of dignity and
lifted his head proudly to gaze at Dantar through intense blue eyes that seemed to swirl with dark
storm clouds.
Nodding to the men holding the prisoner, Dantar gestured to a tree that stood a ways back from
the nearest fire, signaling for them to put the captive there. The men immediately complied, once
more dragging the prince until they were next to the tree. Dantar watched as the backs of the Elf's
knees were kicked, forcing him to kneel on the ground as the rope that was connected to his neck
was bound about the girth of a large tree, making him remain kneeling on the soft soil and dry
leaves. One of the men who had bound him gave him an annoyed slap before all of them walked
off to join the others around the campfire.
Giving the Elven prince a smile that was responded to with a heated glare that shook Dantar
down to his very bones, the man turned and seated himself in front of the warm flames. Lifting a
water skin, he took a swig from it and then grabbed a piece of meat to eat. He glanced back at the
Elf, knowing it had been a while since the Elf had eaten and that the creature would be feeling
slight hunger pangs now. He knew, however that the prince could endure much more. The Elf
was going to have to endure more, for Dantar found one of the best ways to tame a slave was to
keep them on the edge of hunger and thirst. It made a lot of things easier, for one.
Turning back to face the warming flames, Dantar smirked as he heard the slight chink of the Elf's
chains as he shifted on the ground. The Elf was probably searching for a way of escape. Slim
chance that would be. There were guards stationed in great numbers around the perimeter of the
camp and the wagons to prevent thieves from making off with goods. Dantar saw that some of
the children who were quite curious about the prisoner, and their innocence allowed them to look
freely upon him whereas other adults were forced to look away from the heat of his gaze. That is,
until their mothers realized what they were doing and were snapped at for gazing at the Elf.
Usually after this, the children would no longer look in the Elf's direction, or if they did their eyes
were filled with fear. Dantar wondered what it was the mothers were telling their children that
would elicit that type of reaction in a child.
After consuming his meal, the man once more looked back at the prince, finding the Elf gazing up
at the stars. It was an interesting thing that most of the Elves he had taken captive did. Being
deprived of the stars and life around was another factor that produced great results in training.
The Elf was going to have to enjoy this night while it lasted. Dantar had much in store for him,
and allowing him out of the dungeon where he would be staying was not one of them.
Glancing up at the stars himself, Dantar was unsurprised to find that most of them were slowly
being covered with thick, dark rain clouds. They had been expecting a storm for about a week
now, and it seemed that tonight would be the night when it finally began. Dantar cared little about
this inconvenience, for the worst it would do would be to give him a wet and muddy Elf to sell.
He was sure that the buyer would not particularly be stressed about this point.
Deciding that watering the Elf might be a good idea, Dantar rose and walked over to the prince
and kneeled before him, a small smile on his lips. The Elf's reverie was shattered when he realized
the man was there, and he locked eyes with Dantar and glared his hatred through eyes that
seemed to contain all the wrath of the Valar in their depths. The man slowly drew a knife from his
belt and held it against the prince's cheek, his eyebrows rising in slight amusement when the Elf
did not even flinch at the cold steel.
Gently pressing the cold blade to his captive's cheek, Dantar gave the Elf a calculating look. He
let the blade idly trace little lines across the prince's face, being sure to never pierce the seemingly
soft, pale and creamy skin. The knife then came to rest horizontally under the Elf's chin, and
applying slight pressure, the man forced the prince to tilt his head so he was now gazing down his
nose at the man.
"I trust you are thirsty." Dantar said softly after inspection. "I'm going to remove your gag so that
you may drink." Even though thirst was one of the techniques he would use to break the Elf, he
did not wish for him to die of it. And training would not be starting just yet, anyway. "You say a
word, I slit your throat. Understand?"
The Elf's eyes flashed with fire and he made a small growling sound in the back of his throat, but
otherwise made no move.
Dantar smiled. "I thought you would."
Keeping the knife in place, the man moved his hand behind the Elf's head, his nimble fingers
swiftly undoing the tightly knotted leather. He felt a slight twinge of admiration as the Elf hid well
the discomfort at the circulation returning to his lower jaw at having the leather removed.
His eyes ever remaining on the Elf as if fearing he would vanish should the man look away,
Dantar took the water skin from his belt and lifted it to the Elf's face. "Now, are you going to
drink this or do I have to force the water into you? I won't have you dying of thirst."
The Elf hardened his eyes but made no move. Dantar turned to find a few of his men watching
him, and nodded them over. Small smiles blooming on the mens' faces, they walked over behind
the Elf, boots making soft crunching sounds on the leaves as they did so. Almost in unison, they
grabbed the prince's shoulders harshly and roughly threw him onto his back, knocking the wind
out of him with a grunt. One of the men gripped his nose tightly and Dantar shoved the water
flask between his lips. Sitting back on his heels, Dantar waited patiently as he watched the Elf's
throat move each time he swallowed. Only when half the water skin had been consumed did the
man finally withdraw it.
The Elf only lay still and quiet, obviously aware of the knife that Dantar had returned to his throat
after the flask had been taken. The man's keen eyes stayed on the Elf as he was still for a few
moments, as if daring the captive to cry out or even utter a word. After the Elf made no move
whatsoever, Dantar nodded slightly to the guards that remained behind the prince, signaling for
them to restrain him once more. The Elf was forced up and onto his knees, and two hands - one
from each of the men holding him - fisted in his hair. The other two remained on his shoulders.
Dantar smirked at the prisoner, enjoying the way the blue eyes glittered dangerously at him,
sending shivers down his spine. "Y'know Elf?" he said, raising one dark eyebrow. "I'm beginning
to like you."
Reaching forward, Dantar roughly shoved the leather back over the Elf's mouth, then wrapped it
behind his head where it was tied painfully tight once more. Chuckling a little, the guards holding
the Elf released their hands from him, allowing him to kneel on his own. Giving one last smile to
his captive, Dantar moved back at the fire to join in on the song that was now going on. As he
sang, the man could feel the heated gaze on his back, and his smile grew. The anticipation of what
was to come greatly filled him.
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Clapping.
Someone was clapping.
Or maybe it was the sound of several Elves running through the Halls of Mirkwood. Elves that
would be nearby, for the sound was very loud and seemed to grow even louder as awareness
began returning.
His vision was returning slowly, and something was irritating his eyes. He tried to shake his head
to rid himself of this annoyance, but found himself too weak to move just yet. As the surrounding
world began to come into focus, he could see the outlines of several figures, but they seemed too
large to be Elves. Puzzling. But the images he saw were still fuzzy, and as he allowed his eyes to
adjust - although the annoyance that had been bothering them was becoming more noticeable - he
saw that the outlines were indeed not Elves, but horses. Several horses, in fact. And that sound,
that pitter-patter must have been their hooves delicately clunking against the ground.
A loud rumble grew in his ears, and vaguely he felt fear fill him. Was there also a tiger or wolf
about? The horses, they should be running. The tiger would come and hunt them. They would be
eaten. Run, he thought, run, noble creatures. Run as fast as your legs can carry you until your
hard hooves do not touch the ground and you fly off to graze among the stars. Yes, you would
like it there very much. The dark sky with all its glittering lights would be such a beautiful place to
live.
But in the sky, would there be grass for the horses to sustain themselves with? Would water
cleanse their palates? Air to liven them? Or did it even matter, in that case. For surely the light of
the stars would be all one needed to survive, wouldn't it?
Ah, maybe then, he should go to be among the horses in the sky as well. Be away from the
essential needs that grounded him to this mortal body. Away from the tigers and wolves and all
other predators willing to make a meal out of him. And definitely away from that annoying feeling
in his eyes!
Naruhitu's body suddenly gave a great jerk, and blasting pain filled him. He groaned and tried to
cover his head with his hands, but couldn't. His body would still not respond, except for shivers
shaking it now and then that he was dimly aware stemmed from the chill in the air around him.
Maybe it would be best to lie there, to let the years, decades, and centuries rush by while he lay
there in apathetic ecstasy. The pain he felt now would gradually die away, along with all worries
he might have.
A shrill neigh sounded nearby, and he saw the dark shape of one black horse moving towards him.
Lifting his head slightly and wincing at the flash of pain it gave him, the Elf gazed through half
lidded eyes as a herd of horses moved by. One of them, what appeared to be the chief stallion,
was looking at him through dark, keen eyes. The Elf tried to warn the horse of the tiger coming,
but all he managed was a pained groan as he sank back down to the ground. There was a strange
squelching sound, and he realized that he was lying in mud. And after this came the next
realization that what had been bothering his eyes was raindrops, and that the rain hitting the
ground had been the sound he had first heard. The roar of the beast, he knew, had been thunder.
If he could have found enough strength, Naruhitu would have laughed out loud for his stupidity.
As it was, he just lay there, quietly watching as the horse moved next to him.
The great creature gazed down at him, the eyes shining with intelligence, wildness, and even what
looked like a bit of pity. Lowering his great head, the horse nudged him. Naruhitu grimaced and
groaned as old pains flared up. The horse's head immediately shot up at the sound, his eyes locked
onto the Elf as his ears turned this way and that. Seeming to understand the helplessness of the
being before him, the stallion snorted once, turning back to glance at the other members of his
herd. They were all standing quite still, ears perked in curiosity as they watched and waited to see
what their leader would do. Shaking his head a few times, the dark coated stallion turned back to
the Elf, gazed down at the creature for a moment longer, then gracefully lowered himself down
next to the raven haired Elf.
The others of his herd seemed puzzled by this, a few of them snorting and others looking in every
direction as if deciding whether to leave or to stay. Ultimately, however, the rest of the horses
began moving over to the great stallion. The head female, a red mare only a little smaller than her
mate, settled herself down on the other side of the shivering Elf, nuzzling him with her nose as if
he were a newborn colt she was trying to urge into standing. A few more horses laid down
nearby, feeling secure enough to be on the ground without any possible danger happening. Others
of less courage remained standing, not wanting to be the ones struggling to rise if a predator
came. But the stallion knew that no predators would come tonight. They would all be hiding from
the thunder and lightning.
Naruhitu closed his eyes, wanting to go back into blissful unconsciousness. As he began to drift
off, he was aware of the mighty breaths the animals around him took, and he felt safe and warm.
Something large and somewhat soft rested on his shoulder, and it took him a moment to discover
that it was a horse head. Managing some semblance of a smile through his weakness, the Elf
shivered once more and then slipped into a dreamless sleep.
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The storm had arrived. Legolas felt a strange sense of foreboding that came along with it. But was
it not true that danger lay ahead for him? It was practically unavoidable now. He had not found
any opportunities for escape, and they were now very close to their destination, or so he
perceived.
He was once more lying inside the cage with the blanket draped over it. Though the cloth blocked
out most of the rain, it did not stop all of the water from dripping through and onto his helpless
form. At the moment, however, the water was not what was worrying him. There was no sound
of the wheels rumbling below him, nor was there any sensation of movement. That meant that
they had stopped once again.
The cloth over his cage was pulled off, and all at once he was hit with a blast of cold air and
water. The night seemed more chill than usual, and he knew it was not just because of the rain or
his apprehension. The winter months would be arriving soon. This storm was but a taste of the
cold that was to come.
"Everyone halt!"
That was the unmistakable voice of Dantar, one that Legolas had quickly grown to hate. He knew
the man's presence would not be leaving him any time soon, for he sent out every indication that
he would be spending time with the Elven prince during his captivity in this strange place. He
moved his head so that he was looking out and in the direction of where the voice had came from.
It was indeed Dantar who had spoken, and the man looked all the world like it was truly a nice
spring day instead of a raging storm that, if it got any worse, would most likely cause serious
problems for the caravan.
Rain splattered in the mud, creating puddles that got up to ankle deep on the men. The horses
around were very agitated, but had been specially bred for traveling even through storms. Some
of the children, however, were growing sick, and that was probably the biggest problem that they
were facing at the moment.
Legolas watched as his cage was unlocked and pulled open with a creak. Strong hands reached
inside and pulled him out to drop him inconsiderably onto the ground, and his sapphire eyes
narrowed angrily at the men who had taken him out. They ignored him, instead looking to Dantar
for further instructions.
"We have arrived in Cavor." the red haired man announced. "I will be bringing the prisoner to his
Lordship, along with Faron and Muktan. The rest of you, get the caravan through the gates and
get the children into houses and the horses in stables. Worry last for your items. We have barely
outrun the storm to arrive here, and it would do no good to take for granted this stroke of luck."
Even as he spoke every person was moving into action, the men, women and children who were
to be going through the gates riding, walking, or pulling along with their valuables. A loud
trumpet sounded from inside the gates, and then they were opened by several guards wearing red
and blue. The thankful people moved to get inside of this shelter as soon as possible.
But the Elf found he would be taking a different way of entry when he was grabbed by a few men
and picked off the ground. They did not even give him the choice to walk on his own this time,
and simply carried him through the rain as they followed Dantar into a side entrance to the small,
walled in town.
Once inside, he was taken over to a large house, looking more like a miniature castle than
anything. It was made of stone, and it appeared that the rain did little to stir the inhabitants of it.
Legolas knew immediately that this was where he would be staying. And he felt slight fear clench
his heart once again.
The men carrying him stopped before the door, and Dantar pounded on the door with a great fist,
blinking the rain out of his eyes as he looked around and waited for someone to answer. The door
creaked open, and an old looking man peaked out from a dimly lit hall into the rain. His eyes
squinted and he seemed to be searching for them, and when his eyes rested on Daintier they
widened, giving him a very peaceful look. His clothes were that of a servant, and his manner
towards the men suggested this, also.
"Master Dantar!" the man greeted. "Lord Faregon has been anxiously awaiting your arrival."
"As I am sure he has." Dantar replied with a smile.
"Here, let me invite you in. Come in, get out of that dreadful weather! I tell you, this storm seems
the worse we've had all year. This winter will not be easy. Oh no, I can feel it."
As the man talked, Dantar and his men walked inside, carrying Legolas with them. When the
servant offered to take their clothes, the red haired man had simply shook his head and said that it
would be more prudent if they first delivered Lord Faregon's "package" to him. Two of the men
carried Legolas now, through halls in which he looked all around, trying to take in as much
information as he could. There appeared to be several rooms with guards in them, all clad in
similar fashion as he had seen the guards at the front gates.
Finally, the men came to a great wooden door, which Dantar knocked at using a great metal
knocker that stood on the outside of it. It struck Legolas as slightly odd that the outside of the
house should have no knocker, yet one of the inside rooms did.
A seemingly cheerful voice from inside rang out then.
"Daintier! Come in, come in!"
The door was pulled open, revealing a large room with luxurious furnishings and many bright
colors. On the walls a few banners depicting falcons with sharp talons and keen beaks hung, and
one of the walls itself was painted over with a huge picture of one of the birds of prey, its huge
talons extended and beak open in what seemed a loud cry. Legolas had long admired birds of this
type, but seeing pictures of them on the walls of such a horrible place somehow made all interest
for them become replaced by loathing.
Sitting on a chair at the far end of the room, was a tall man with dark hair and long, flowing
robes. His eyes were bright, and seemed to almost immediately focus on Legolas. The Elf held the
man's gaze putting as much anger into the gaze as he could muster, wh ch was quite a lot. The
man could not help but look away, and the Elven prince inwardly smiled. It was one small victory
amongst his seemingly endless swarm of losses, but it was amazing how much satisfaction it
caused.
"Ah, I see you've brought me my new pet."
The men holding Legolas moved forward, swinging the Elf as they did so. Bringing him before
Faregon, they tossed the Elven prince down onto the ground. Stunned for a moment, Legolas
watched as the red carpet beneath him slowly turned dark with water that dripped off his long
golden locks of hair.
When he looked up, he was met with a deceivingly well mannered smile as Faregon clasped his
hands and gazed at him. The only thing the man showed that revealed his true nature was in his
eyes, and that was undisguised lust that he now regarded Legolas with. Unable to do anything
more than glare, Legolas continued to put heat and fury into his gaze, not that he needed to try
very hard to do so.
The man before him slowly stood from his chair then, gazing down at the bound captive.
"Welcome to your new home, Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood."
Authors: No Tears, with a considerable amount of help from Dollrandir
Summary: Making their way back into Mirkwood, Legolas and Naruhitu are attacked, and
Legolas is taken captive while Naruhitu is left for death.
Rating: R
Warning: Violence/torture, bdsm, rape, and all that good stuff. I've decided to go further into this
fic and explore the realm where Legolas is in a non-consensual Master/Slave relationship.
Eventual slash! Though nothing really graphic will be placed in this version of the story, as I must
heed the rating rules of FF.net. But, if there is a more graphic version of a chapter and you wish
to read it, I will be placing the website for it up when the time comes.
Disclaimer: We don't own anything made by Tolkien! Naruhitu, however, belongs to Dollrandir.
All the other icky bad guys are mine!
No Tears' Notes: Sorry for the delay of this chapter! I will try to get the next one out sooner, but
as of now I'm not gonna promise anything!
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Part 3: No Hope For Escape
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Dantar watched impassively as five of his men uncovered the cage where the Elf was being kept.
Twilight had begun its descent nearly an hour ago, and had finally given way to darkness. The
caravan never traveled during the day, for the chances of opposing forces attacking were too
great. One had to be on their guard while moving about in this land. Several nomadic groups lived
here, and were constantly competing with each other. Though death in great numbers was
somewhat of a rarity, thieves and slave traders such as himself were not.
Dantar had come into slave trading at a very young age, and under his father's tutelage had
become very proficient at it. When he turned 33, he had grown tired of catching men, and had
decided that he was going to try for the unheard of task of catching a full grown, male warrior Elf
to sell as a slave. The first attempts were horribly futile, and he nearly lost his life on more than
one account. However, he had soon found the best ways to render an Elf unable to escape
capture. The ambush technique used on the Mirkwood prince and his companion was just one of
many. He also found out soon enough that if an Elf was not securely held and watched at all times
then there was a good chance it would escape.
And his talent was not merely in slave trading either, but many masters required his help when
dealing with an impossibly disobedient slave. In the past, those who had taken an Elf slave and
refused his assistance had met with several large complications. The Elf would either escape or be
killed by the master's foolish actions, and even on one account the Elf had murdered his own
master before he himself was slain.
Dantar knew that the particular buyer of his newest acquisition would gladly take his offered help.
The man looked forward to breaking the luscious beauty inside the cage that was now being
opened. He knew that this would be an especially delicious experience, for the Elf was more fair
than any being he had previously laid eyes on, and had the will and ferocity of a tiger to match.
But, even tigers can become but obedient kittens under the right persuasion, he thought with a
smirk.
Folding strong and well muscled arms, the man watched as the Elf was roughly yanked out of the
cage by a group of his men and set on his feet. The captive's ankles were to remain bound
securely together; Dantar was taking all precautions necessary to keep the Elf under his power.
He was well aware of the great balance Elves possessed.
His eyes glittered as he watched the lithe body of the Elf begin to fight against the men holding
him, then doubled over when a painful fist crashed into his stomach. The Elven prince was trying
to protect his bruised abdomen from any more harsh blows, and the men around him took
advantage of his bent over position by grabbing his hair tightly to hold his head down. The Elf
jerked against their grips, but his attempts to dislodge them did no good as they firmly pressed
him down. Dantar saw another man approach with a length of rope and begin to wrap part of it
around the prince's neck. The man watched as shock registered in the Elf's eyes followed by a
fierce struggle as he tried to prevent the man from tying off the loop around his neck. He made it
hard enough that they had to force him to the ground and hold him there to finally get the rope
bound tightly enough around his neck.
They pulled him to his feet, and with three men, two of which who were grasping his arms and the
third holding the lead of the rope, he was hauled forward. Though resist he might, he could not
defeat the odds against him and was eventually dragged over to where Dantar was standing. The
stance of the Elf was awkward because of his bound ankles, but he managed an air of dignity and
lifted his head proudly to gaze at Dantar through intense blue eyes that seemed to swirl with dark
storm clouds.
Nodding to the men holding the prisoner, Dantar gestured to a tree that stood a ways back from
the nearest fire, signaling for them to put the captive there. The men immediately complied, once
more dragging the prince until they were next to the tree. Dantar watched as the backs of the Elf's
knees were kicked, forcing him to kneel on the ground as the rope that was connected to his neck
was bound about the girth of a large tree, making him remain kneeling on the soft soil and dry
leaves. One of the men who had bound him gave him an annoyed slap before all of them walked
off to join the others around the campfire.
Giving the Elven prince a smile that was responded to with a heated glare that shook Dantar
down to his very bones, the man turned and seated himself in front of the warm flames. Lifting a
water skin, he took a swig from it and then grabbed a piece of meat to eat. He glanced back at the
Elf, knowing it had been a while since the Elf had eaten and that the creature would be feeling
slight hunger pangs now. He knew, however that the prince could endure much more. The Elf
was going to have to endure more, for Dantar found one of the best ways to tame a slave was to
keep them on the edge of hunger and thirst. It made a lot of things easier, for one.
Turning back to face the warming flames, Dantar smirked as he heard the slight chink of the Elf's
chains as he shifted on the ground. The Elf was probably searching for a way of escape. Slim
chance that would be. There were guards stationed in great numbers around the perimeter of the
camp and the wagons to prevent thieves from making off with goods. Dantar saw that some of
the children who were quite curious about the prisoner, and their innocence allowed them to look
freely upon him whereas other adults were forced to look away from the heat of his gaze. That is,
until their mothers realized what they were doing and were snapped at for gazing at the Elf.
Usually after this, the children would no longer look in the Elf's direction, or if they did their eyes
were filled with fear. Dantar wondered what it was the mothers were telling their children that
would elicit that type of reaction in a child.
After consuming his meal, the man once more looked back at the prince, finding the Elf gazing up
at the stars. It was an interesting thing that most of the Elves he had taken captive did. Being
deprived of the stars and life around was another factor that produced great results in training.
The Elf was going to have to enjoy this night while it lasted. Dantar had much in store for him,
and allowing him out of the dungeon where he would be staying was not one of them.
Glancing up at the stars himself, Dantar was unsurprised to find that most of them were slowly
being covered with thick, dark rain clouds. They had been expecting a storm for about a week
now, and it seemed that tonight would be the night when it finally began. Dantar cared little about
this inconvenience, for the worst it would do would be to give him a wet and muddy Elf to sell.
He was sure that the buyer would not particularly be stressed about this point.
Deciding that watering the Elf might be a good idea, Dantar rose and walked over to the prince
and kneeled before him, a small smile on his lips. The Elf's reverie was shattered when he realized
the man was there, and he locked eyes with Dantar and glared his hatred through eyes that
seemed to contain all the wrath of the Valar in their depths. The man slowly drew a knife from his
belt and held it against the prince's cheek, his eyebrows rising in slight amusement when the Elf
did not even flinch at the cold steel.
Gently pressing the cold blade to his captive's cheek, Dantar gave the Elf a calculating look. He
let the blade idly trace little lines across the prince's face, being sure to never pierce the seemingly
soft, pale and creamy skin. The knife then came to rest horizontally under the Elf's chin, and
applying slight pressure, the man forced the prince to tilt his head so he was now gazing down his
nose at the man.
"I trust you are thirsty." Dantar said softly after inspection. "I'm going to remove your gag so that
you may drink." Even though thirst was one of the techniques he would use to break the Elf, he
did not wish for him to die of it. And training would not be starting just yet, anyway. "You say a
word, I slit your throat. Understand?"
The Elf's eyes flashed with fire and he made a small growling sound in the back of his throat, but
otherwise made no move.
Dantar smiled. "I thought you would."
Keeping the knife in place, the man moved his hand behind the Elf's head, his nimble fingers
swiftly undoing the tightly knotted leather. He felt a slight twinge of admiration as the Elf hid well
the discomfort at the circulation returning to his lower jaw at having the leather removed.
His eyes ever remaining on the Elf as if fearing he would vanish should the man look away,
Dantar took the water skin from his belt and lifted it to the Elf's face. "Now, are you going to
drink this or do I have to force the water into you? I won't have you dying of thirst."
The Elf hardened his eyes but made no move. Dantar turned to find a few of his men watching
him, and nodded them over. Small smiles blooming on the mens' faces, they walked over behind
the Elf, boots making soft crunching sounds on the leaves as they did so. Almost in unison, they
grabbed the prince's shoulders harshly and roughly threw him onto his back, knocking the wind
out of him with a grunt. One of the men gripped his nose tightly and Dantar shoved the water
flask between his lips. Sitting back on his heels, Dantar waited patiently as he watched the Elf's
throat move each time he swallowed. Only when half the water skin had been consumed did the
man finally withdraw it.
The Elf only lay still and quiet, obviously aware of the knife that Dantar had returned to his throat
after the flask had been taken. The man's keen eyes stayed on the Elf as he was still for a few
moments, as if daring the captive to cry out or even utter a word. After the Elf made no move
whatsoever, Dantar nodded slightly to the guards that remained behind the prince, signaling for
them to restrain him once more. The Elf was forced up and onto his knees, and two hands - one
from each of the men holding him - fisted in his hair. The other two remained on his shoulders.
Dantar smirked at the prisoner, enjoying the way the blue eyes glittered dangerously at him,
sending shivers down his spine. "Y'know Elf?" he said, raising one dark eyebrow. "I'm beginning
to like you."
Reaching forward, Dantar roughly shoved the leather back over the Elf's mouth, then wrapped it
behind his head where it was tied painfully tight once more. Chuckling a little, the guards holding
the Elf released their hands from him, allowing him to kneel on his own. Giving one last smile to
his captive, Dantar moved back at the fire to join in on the song that was now going on. As he
sang, the man could feel the heated gaze on his back, and his smile grew. The anticipation of what
was to come greatly filled him.
**********
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Clapping.
Someone was clapping.
Or maybe it was the sound of several Elves running through the Halls of Mirkwood. Elves that
would be nearby, for the sound was very loud and seemed to grow even louder as awareness
began returning.
His vision was returning slowly, and something was irritating his eyes. He tried to shake his head
to rid himself of this annoyance, but found himself too weak to move just yet. As the surrounding
world began to come into focus, he could see the outlines of several figures, but they seemed too
large to be Elves. Puzzling. But the images he saw were still fuzzy, and as he allowed his eyes to
adjust - although the annoyance that had been bothering them was becoming more noticeable - he
saw that the outlines were indeed not Elves, but horses. Several horses, in fact. And that sound,
that pitter-patter must have been their hooves delicately clunking against the ground.
A loud rumble grew in his ears, and vaguely he felt fear fill him. Was there also a tiger or wolf
about? The horses, they should be running. The tiger would come and hunt them. They would be
eaten. Run, he thought, run, noble creatures. Run as fast as your legs can carry you until your
hard hooves do not touch the ground and you fly off to graze among the stars. Yes, you would
like it there very much. The dark sky with all its glittering lights would be such a beautiful place to
live.
But in the sky, would there be grass for the horses to sustain themselves with? Would water
cleanse their palates? Air to liven them? Or did it even matter, in that case. For surely the light of
the stars would be all one needed to survive, wouldn't it?
Ah, maybe then, he should go to be among the horses in the sky as well. Be away from the
essential needs that grounded him to this mortal body. Away from the tigers and wolves and all
other predators willing to make a meal out of him. And definitely away from that annoying feeling
in his eyes!
Naruhitu's body suddenly gave a great jerk, and blasting pain filled him. He groaned and tried to
cover his head with his hands, but couldn't. His body would still not respond, except for shivers
shaking it now and then that he was dimly aware stemmed from the chill in the air around him.
Maybe it would be best to lie there, to let the years, decades, and centuries rush by while he lay
there in apathetic ecstasy. The pain he felt now would gradually die away, along with all worries
he might have.
A shrill neigh sounded nearby, and he saw the dark shape of one black horse moving towards him.
Lifting his head slightly and wincing at the flash of pain it gave him, the Elf gazed through half
lidded eyes as a herd of horses moved by. One of them, what appeared to be the chief stallion,
was looking at him through dark, keen eyes. The Elf tried to warn the horse of the tiger coming,
but all he managed was a pained groan as he sank back down to the ground. There was a strange
squelching sound, and he realized that he was lying in mud. And after this came the next
realization that what had been bothering his eyes was raindrops, and that the rain hitting the
ground had been the sound he had first heard. The roar of the beast, he knew, had been thunder.
If he could have found enough strength, Naruhitu would have laughed out loud for his stupidity.
As it was, he just lay there, quietly watching as the horse moved next to him.
The great creature gazed down at him, the eyes shining with intelligence, wildness, and even what
looked like a bit of pity. Lowering his great head, the horse nudged him. Naruhitu grimaced and
groaned as old pains flared up. The horse's head immediately shot up at the sound, his eyes locked
onto the Elf as his ears turned this way and that. Seeming to understand the helplessness of the
being before him, the stallion snorted once, turning back to glance at the other members of his
herd. They were all standing quite still, ears perked in curiosity as they watched and waited to see
what their leader would do. Shaking his head a few times, the dark coated stallion turned back to
the Elf, gazed down at the creature for a moment longer, then gracefully lowered himself down
next to the raven haired Elf.
The others of his herd seemed puzzled by this, a few of them snorting and others looking in every
direction as if deciding whether to leave or to stay. Ultimately, however, the rest of the horses
began moving over to the great stallion. The head female, a red mare only a little smaller than her
mate, settled herself down on the other side of the shivering Elf, nuzzling him with her nose as if
he were a newborn colt she was trying to urge into standing. A few more horses laid down
nearby, feeling secure enough to be on the ground without any possible danger happening. Others
of less courage remained standing, not wanting to be the ones struggling to rise if a predator
came. But the stallion knew that no predators would come tonight. They would all be hiding from
the thunder and lightning.
Naruhitu closed his eyes, wanting to go back into blissful unconsciousness. As he began to drift
off, he was aware of the mighty breaths the animals around him took, and he felt safe and warm.
Something large and somewhat soft rested on his shoulder, and it took him a moment to discover
that it was a horse head. Managing some semblance of a smile through his weakness, the Elf
shivered once more and then slipped into a dreamless sleep.
**********
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The storm had arrived. Legolas felt a strange sense of foreboding that came along with it. But was
it not true that danger lay ahead for him? It was practically unavoidable now. He had not found
any opportunities for escape, and they were now very close to their destination, or so he
perceived.
He was once more lying inside the cage with the blanket draped over it. Though the cloth blocked
out most of the rain, it did not stop all of the water from dripping through and onto his helpless
form. At the moment, however, the water was not what was worrying him. There was no sound
of the wheels rumbling below him, nor was there any sensation of movement. That meant that
they had stopped once again.
The cloth over his cage was pulled off, and all at once he was hit with a blast of cold air and
water. The night seemed more chill than usual, and he knew it was not just because of the rain or
his apprehension. The winter months would be arriving soon. This storm was but a taste of the
cold that was to come.
"Everyone halt!"
That was the unmistakable voice of Dantar, one that Legolas had quickly grown to hate. He knew
the man's presence would not be leaving him any time soon, for he sent out every indication that
he would be spending time with the Elven prince during his captivity in this strange place. He
moved his head so that he was looking out and in the direction of where the voice had came from.
It was indeed Dantar who had spoken, and the man looked all the world like it was truly a nice
spring day instead of a raging storm that, if it got any worse, would most likely cause serious
problems for the caravan.
Rain splattered in the mud, creating puddles that got up to ankle deep on the men. The horses
around were very agitated, but had been specially bred for traveling even through storms. Some
of the children, however, were growing sick, and that was probably the biggest problem that they
were facing at the moment.
Legolas watched as his cage was unlocked and pulled open with a creak. Strong hands reached
inside and pulled him out to drop him inconsiderably onto the ground, and his sapphire eyes
narrowed angrily at the men who had taken him out. They ignored him, instead looking to Dantar
for further instructions.
"We have arrived in Cavor." the red haired man announced. "I will be bringing the prisoner to his
Lordship, along with Faron and Muktan. The rest of you, get the caravan through the gates and
get the children into houses and the horses in stables. Worry last for your items. We have barely
outrun the storm to arrive here, and it would do no good to take for granted this stroke of luck."
Even as he spoke every person was moving into action, the men, women and children who were
to be going through the gates riding, walking, or pulling along with their valuables. A loud
trumpet sounded from inside the gates, and then they were opened by several guards wearing red
and blue. The thankful people moved to get inside of this shelter as soon as possible.
But the Elf found he would be taking a different way of entry when he was grabbed by a few men
and picked off the ground. They did not even give him the choice to walk on his own this time,
and simply carried him through the rain as they followed Dantar into a side entrance to the small,
walled in town.
Once inside, he was taken over to a large house, looking more like a miniature castle than
anything. It was made of stone, and it appeared that the rain did little to stir the inhabitants of it.
Legolas knew immediately that this was where he would be staying. And he felt slight fear clench
his heart once again.
The men carrying him stopped before the door, and Dantar pounded on the door with a great fist,
blinking the rain out of his eyes as he looked around and waited for someone to answer. The door
creaked open, and an old looking man peaked out from a dimly lit hall into the rain. His eyes
squinted and he seemed to be searching for them, and when his eyes rested on Daintier they
widened, giving him a very peaceful look. His clothes were that of a servant, and his manner
towards the men suggested this, also.
"Master Dantar!" the man greeted. "Lord Faregon has been anxiously awaiting your arrival."
"As I am sure he has." Dantar replied with a smile.
"Here, let me invite you in. Come in, get out of that dreadful weather! I tell you, this storm seems
the worse we've had all year. This winter will not be easy. Oh no, I can feel it."
As the man talked, Dantar and his men walked inside, carrying Legolas with them. When the
servant offered to take their clothes, the red haired man had simply shook his head and said that it
would be more prudent if they first delivered Lord Faregon's "package" to him. Two of the men
carried Legolas now, through halls in which he looked all around, trying to take in as much
information as he could. There appeared to be several rooms with guards in them, all clad in
similar fashion as he had seen the guards at the front gates.
Finally, the men came to a great wooden door, which Dantar knocked at using a great metal
knocker that stood on the outside of it. It struck Legolas as slightly odd that the outside of the
house should have no knocker, yet one of the inside rooms did.
A seemingly cheerful voice from inside rang out then.
"Daintier! Come in, come in!"
The door was pulled open, revealing a large room with luxurious furnishings and many bright
colors. On the walls a few banners depicting falcons with sharp talons and keen beaks hung, and
one of the walls itself was painted over with a huge picture of one of the birds of prey, its huge
talons extended and beak open in what seemed a loud cry. Legolas had long admired birds of this
type, but seeing pictures of them on the walls of such a horrible place somehow made all interest
for them become replaced by loathing.
Sitting on a chair at the far end of the room, was a tall man with dark hair and long, flowing
robes. His eyes were bright, and seemed to almost immediately focus on Legolas. The Elf held the
man's gaze putting as much anger into the gaze as he could muster, wh ch was quite a lot. The
man could not help but look away, and the Elven prince inwardly smiled. It was one small victory
amongst his seemingly endless swarm of losses, but it was amazing how much satisfaction it
caused.
"Ah, I see you've brought me my new pet."
The men holding Legolas moved forward, swinging the Elf as they did so. Bringing him before
Faregon, they tossed the Elven prince down onto the ground. Stunned for a moment, Legolas
watched as the red carpet beneath him slowly turned dark with water that dripped off his long
golden locks of hair.
When he looked up, he was met with a deceivingly well mannered smile as Faregon clasped his
hands and gazed at him. The only thing the man showed that revealed his true nature was in his
eyes, and that was undisguised lust that he now regarded Legolas with. Unable to do anything
more than glare, Legolas continued to put heat and fury into his gaze, not that he needed to try
very hard to do so.
The man before him slowly stood from his chair then, gazing down at the bound captive.
"Welcome to your new home, Prince Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood."