Lady Falcon Ranger: look, first of all, it's my story, I'll call it whatever I want thank you. second of all, it is possible for an elf to have red hair: it's a blonde recessive gene (meaning both parents have the blonde gene, but necessarily blonde hair) and the hair comes out iron rich and "rusted". you learn that in biology. perhaps tolkien doesn't mention it, but this isn't tolkien's story, is it? (besides, if you watch FOTR EE, there is a red haired elf in the rivendell sequence) thirdly, if you don't like my story, DON'T READ IT. no one is forcing you to, unless they have a gun to your head. if I get another nasty or sarcastic review from you, I will just ignore it and not respond to your reviews further. thank you.

Lindelea: nope, not too badly, you'll see. and you get to learn a little more bout what happened to Lena. you're welcome – i think you're doing a great job so far.

Leena: thanks much!

LeaMarie F. Rocket: soon, very soon. thanks.

Luthien: thanks much for the review. more to come

Alezandrane: wow. :blushes: thanks. stop begging though, here it is.

Neo: thank you. I try to keep that stuff in check. it might take awhile to finish the whole thing, and I've got plans for a sequel so…keep reading

disclaimer: don't own it, but I'd like to. don't sue.

WARNING! THERE IS VIOLENT RAPE IN THIS CHAPTER. IF THAT BOTHERS YOU, DON'T READ IT!

Chapter 11

"Legolas?" she squeaked. When no answer came, she flopped back over onto the bed, fighting back the tears. Suddenly, her mind cleared and another vision came streaming in.

"Come on Patrosh! What's wrong with you? Go on, girl!" Elenayave urged her steed forward.

She was on her way to Rivendell to see her father, Arcollo. It had been a while since she had seen him last, and she couldn't wait to ride through those gates. But Patrosh had other ideas. The restive mare Legolas had presented to her as a gift was rearing and shying away from the chosen path.

"We're almost out of the woods anyway, Patrosh. Let's go."

Patrosh whinnied loudly and stamped her hooves against the forest floor. She tossed her mane and backed up, refusing to go near the path. Her white coat glimmered in the dying light, and her soft brown eyes were filled with worry. She emitted another low grunt, before she let Elenayave move her forward a couple steps.

"I wanted to camp outside Mirkwood tonight! Come on!" Elenayave dug her heels into the horse's sides. Patrosh reared up, her whinny almost a scream.

And abruptly, Elenayave realized why. She was completely surrounded. Fear and panic rapidly streamed through her, but she pushed it down and replaced it with reason and logical thinking. She quickly counted the orcs' numbers and manipulated a plan. She wheeled Patrosh around, heading straight toward the back line. The element of surprise would only last a few precious seconds before the orcs recovered. She whipped her bow out and quickly strung it, loosing two arrows before she even reached them. Even then, she was vastly outnumbered.

Elenayave fought the orcs, moving rapidly to avoid their numerous scimitars and blades, crude though deadly. Her arrow source was soon depleted and she had to resort to her knives and her feet. She jumped off Patrosh's back and whipped the blades out of their holsters. The white filigreed metal moved in a speedy whirl, taking out several orcs as she moved. But it was not enough. While her attentions were focused on the three in front of her, she felt a sharp pain shoot through her shoulder. An arrow had pierced her there, and the blood flowed freely onto her back. The pain caused her grip to loosen and her blade fell from her hand. The other soon followed when a powerful stroke knocked her off balance. Her forehead struck a rock and the world went black.

Elenayave slowly fluttered her eyes open, her head pounding and her vision blurry. She ached all over, her muscles sore and her body registering pain with every slight move she made. She groaned quietly, not wanting to alert her capturers to her consciousness. Her tunic and leggings were ripped and muddied in several places, the material not withstanding the thrashings of her foes. Her curly red locks were mussed and tangled and her skin was covered in dirt and blood, some her own and some not. Apparently, they had beaten her to sap her strength while she was unconscious.

She looked about her, trying to decide on her location. The ground was rocky and uncomfortable, and little grass grew on the soil. That meant they were headed south. But south from where? Elenayave guessed she'd missed the previous day of traveling due to her unconscious state, but would say that she was somewhere still east of the Misty Mountains, between Thalmas Galen and the Mountains of Mirkwood. The orcs had made good time.

Elenayave groaned, feeling her captor nudge her shoulder with their boot. Pain shot through her spine and rippled through her body. He made a strange sound, as if he were laughing at her expense.

"Good evening, Lady Elf," he sneered. "Let's get going. Get up."

Elenayave tried to rise to her feet, but the strength had been exhausted from her body. She crumpled miserably to the ground. The orc grabbed her by the hair and hauled her to her feet, dragging her along behind him. She cried out in agony, but he ignored her pleas and continued walking with her in tow. He took her through the ranks of orcs, headed for his leader.

They all gazed hatefully at her, spitting and hissing as she passed. She kept her eyes focused on the ground before her, not wanting to stumble. She could hear their mumblings in the Black Speech, the native tongue of the foul creatures of Mordor. Her captor led her to the front of the group, to the chieftain. He shoved her to her knees in front of him and stood behind her, not allowing her chance to move.

"Aren't you a pretty thing?" he questioned, grinning wickedly. His voice was raspy and rough and his eyes were a piercing yellow. He was the largest of the orcs and carried a large rusty scimitar. Large muscles, though nothing compared to an elf's sinewy strength, rippled through his stunted body. His hands gripped her neck in a tight vice, restricting the passage of air.

Elenayave started to wheeze and the world around her started to fade, but he let go before she passed out.

"Got a strong will there, too," he said laughing. "Damn Elf! We'll break that from you in a hurry, we will." He threw her to the ground and landed a strong punch to her jaw, sending her flying backwards. He hauled her back to her feet and roughly pushed her to his companions. They formed a tight circle around her. Then, it began. She was pushed harshly from one orc to the next, around the circle until everyone had a shot at her. They threw hard punches and smacks, each time, their foul hands coming in painful contact with her weak body. Elenayave refused to cry out, which seemed to make their anger rise. They wanted her to scream, to be in pain. Several took out blades and slashed at her as she went by. Small, deep gashes opened and bled freely, the life giving substance slipping slowly out through her wounds. Finally, she was pushed to the feet of the chief. She crumpled to the ground and fell limp, knowing the worst was yet to come.

"Get up!" he yelled, kicking her hard in the stomach. "Get up!"

Elenayave remained on the ground, sucking air into her lungs, trying to calm herself. She was dizzy and nauseated, and breathing was not easy.

"Damn Elf! Get up, I said!" He lashed out again, striking her in the head. He grabbed her by the hair and heaved her to her feet. His fist came in violent contact with her jaw, and she careened back to the ground. A small squeak came from her lips, but nothing more. Blood was streaming from her mouth and nose, and a large gash above her right eye gushed. Scratches and bruises littered her arms and torso, and her legs were deemed mostly useless.

"I can't," she whispered. "Please, let me go."

The orc made an awful sound, which Elenayave took to be laughter. "Wishful thinking, princess," he sneered. Then, he grinned wickedly. "Yes. That's right. I know you're a princess. The Master's been wanting you for a long time now. Ever since you set foot in this forest."

He aimed a blow to her stomach with his foot, and she heard the sickening crack of bones breaking. At least two of her ribs were snapped. She started coughing, the action putting her in worse pain. The monster picked her up and set her on her feet again, unsteady as she was. She collapsed to her knees before him and didn't move again. Her head drooped down and her hair was a mess. He raised her chin to glare at her, seeing the defiance in her eyes.

"Filthy Elf!" he spat. He backhanded her across the cheek, leaving behind a vivid red mark.

Elenayave willed herself not to make a sound or resist, but to only show boldness and resolution. She would not scream. She could not show weakness. It would only help them.

The large orc hit her again, knocking her to the earth. Immediately, he was atop her, beating her harshly. He ripped and tore at her clothes and hair, slashing her delicate skin as he went. He rolled her from her side to her back and straddled her. He grinned wickedly, hissing menacingly in her face. Elenayave was suddenly struck with the daunting horror of what he intended to do with her.

"No," she whispered. "Oh Valar, please no."

She wriggled beneath him, trying to free herself. She pushed violently against him with her hands, to no avail. He was far too heavy to move, especially with her weak body. Terror and disgust streamed through her. This act, the one true act of love and passion, was to be used against her in painful and horrific violation. This doing, which she had only ever experienced with her husband, Legolas, was to be taken from her against her will. Rape was one thing in the world of Men. But orcs were a different story. The few women who survived their brutal rapes often took their own lives, or lived in misery and physical pain the rest of their days. Some died of complications after the attack. Orcs would violate a woman in any place they saw able.

His hand came in stinging contact with her face again, stilling her for a moment. He tore off her clothes, leaving her vulnerable and bare to the congregation that had gathered to watch in anticipation and eagerness. His cold fingers roughly explored her body, causing the bile to rise in her throat.

"Nooooo, please! Stop!" she whispered, her voice cracking with urgency. "Leave me alone."

He rose, just for a moment, and Elenayave thought he may let her go. But her heart sank into her stomach when she saw he was removing his makeshift armor and loincloth. He returned to his position astride her and forcefully grabbed her chin to level their gazes. The tears began to stream out of the corners of her eyes.

"Now, now, Elfling. This will only hurt a little," he cooed tauntingly.

Before he had finished his sentence, he thrust into her, painfully ripping into her body. He was much too large for her tiny frame, and a scorching, intense pain shot through her. She felt as if her insides had been ripped in half. She screamed as he plowed his way into her, and she writhed under him.

"NO! Please, stop!"

He pulled out slightly, just to bury himself deeper inside her. Elenayave felt another scream rising in her throat. He continued the rhythm, building up to his final release. Elenayave pushed against him and pounded on his chest, the tears pouring now, uncontrollably, down her cheeks. He came into her harder and harder, until he could no longer push himself farther in. Every time he struck her, she screamed, the pain so severe, she thought she would die. He bucked wildly against her, throwing her limp body around like a doll.

He slowed momentarily, then persisted his excruciating torture. He rode her mercilessly, as if she were an animal. Her sobs and pleads went unheeded as he took his pleasure from her. Legolas was never like this…never so violent. He had always been so gentle and loving; as if she were made of glass and he were afraid he'd break her. Sure, his playfulness and the odd mischievous romp were a little rough, but it was always pleasurable. But this monster cared nothing for the woman beneath him.

Finally, he thrust into her one last time, spilling his hot seed into her. It was as if he had poured liquid fire into her body. It spread everywhere and another scream was elicited from her lips. She felt like her whole body was on fire. No matter what she did, the pain wouldn't cease. Her body unwillingly accepted his release as he left her broken and violated.

The orc left her on the ground. He spoke to the others in a loud authoritive voice in the Black Speech. Elenayave shook her head in fear when the band closed in on her, knowing what would happen next. They took their turns, each having their way with her, causing her more pain and injury. As the last one left her, her consciousness slipped away into darkness. Elenayave fell into a deep sleep, due to loss of blood and fatigue. One last thought crossed her mind before she went limp…Legolas.

Before she knew what was happening, she found herself enveloped in Legolas's arms, his soothing elven voice calming her fears. The tears streamed down her beautiful face in torrents, and her body shook with fright and grief. His hand gently ran through her hair, massaging her scalp and neck, as his other arm cradled her form against his. Her face was buried in his chest and her arms were wrapped around his back, holding on to him as if her life depended on it.

"Please, don't hurt me," she mumbled into his warm skin, tasting the salt from her tears on her tongue.

"Lle varna sii. Nin im sinome," he soothed, the elvish words rolling naturally off his tongue. "Nin mel lle."

"Stay with me. Please. Don't leave again," she pleaded, snuggling closer against him.

"Nin n'kelaya lle, lirimaer."

"Vest a nin," she whispered, the language coming back to her.

"I promise, love. I promise," he stated. He tightened his hold on her, reluctant to let her go.

He wasn't exactly sure what had frightened her so, but he figured that she was having flashbacks of her capture. He had just spread out a small blanket to sleep on, when he heard her crying softly. He had immediately known something was wrong. He was headed for the door when she let out a bloodcurdling scream. He'd rushed into his room to find her in tears, curled up into a tiny ball. Her body was shaking violently and her eyes were tightly closed. When he had attempted to pull her into his arms, she struggled against him, fiercely trying to free herself from his grip. Finally, she had subdued her endeavor enough that he could wrap her protectively in his grasp and console her.

"He hurt me," she whimpered softly, Legolas pulling her farther into his embrace.

"I know, melamin. I know he did. I'll never allow it to happen again. Ever. I swear it."

"All of them did. Legolas, I was so terrified. I thought I'd never see you again. And if I did, you wouldn't love me any more because of what they did to me," the words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them. A fresh batch of tears streamed down her cheeks as she breathed in his familiar, comforting scent.

"I will always love you, Lena. No matter what. Understand that, please," he whispered in the dark. He stroked her cheek, ridding it of the wet, salty streaks. "Nothing will ever change my mind."

"I'm sorry, Legolas."

"Why, melamin?"

"For leading you on like that, and then telling you no," she stated, wiping the tears off her face. "It was wrong."

Legolas didn't disagree, but instead offered a small smile. "It's all right. I shouldn't have acted so rashly. I knew you weren't ready, and I should've stopped the first time you asked me to. It's just that it's been so long, Lena, since I've been with you and…"

"Shhh. I know, Legolas. I'm trying, but I'm scared."

"Of what?" he questioned. "Me?"

"No, no. Not of you, Legolas. I love you," she said softly.

Legolas smiled warmly. He'd waited so long to hear those words again. "Really now?" He nuzzled against her cheek and tightened his hold on her.

"Yes. What I'm scared of…is this, I suppose," she stated, pointing to herself, then him. "I'm still in Linilya's mind and Linilya's never done this before. I never had much luck with guys." She made a face.

"But you're not Linilya."

"Nay. And it's a good thing, because it looks like Elenayave had far better fortune. After all, she married you."

"You married me," he sighed, shaking his head lightly.

"Yes, yes. I know. Whatever. The point is, I don't know what I'm doing. I've never felt like this before. I'm so confused and emotional right now that it's scaring me."

"But why?" Legolas inquired, curious as to why her emotions were running awry.

"Well, don't you think it's scary? Finding someone you're sure you've seen before, but not knowing who they are, and then realizing that you're in love with them? Of course, you would think that would make you so happy, and it does, because you've finally found that special someone who loves you more than anything. But you're so scared at the same time, because they mean so much to you that you don't want to lose them or see them hurt; you've just discovered them."

After a minute of silence Legolas answered. "I suppose so. It scared me to death when I first met you." He paused when she giggled. "Don't laugh, it's true," he said, smiling. "I was terrified at the prospect of falling in love with you."

"Sorry."

"I had always been off on my own; hunting, fighting, competing. I never stayed with one particular woman. None of them were quite what I was looking for. I looked for her for centuries and I thought I'd never find her. So I vowed to myself that I would never fall for a woman. But then, you waltzed into my life, and at a most inopportune moment. It didn't really help that you completely hated me. I was so confused; my head was telling me to stay away to avoid getting killed, or worse – hurt. But my heart wanted nothing more than to be by your side. I fought against it for so long…but it was too late. I fell in love with you the moment I first laid eyes on you."

Elenayave smiled, feeling rather giddy and accomplished. She had heard about how hard it was to rope in the Prince of Mirkwood before he'd married. And she had captured him with just a glance. He had been following her around like a little puppy, making himself look rather goofy and undignified. Of course, that was what had finally drawn her to him; the fact that he was willing to embarrass himself in front of his people just for her attentions was quite endearing.

"Aww. That's so cute, Legolas. You're a sweetie," she cooed, beaming up at him.

Legolas smiled playfully and nuzzled against her. He pressed several butterfly kisses to her cheek and jawbone, his lips barely making contact with her soft skin. She giggled quietly and tried to gently push him away. His breath tickled her flesh as he breathed softly over her, and it sent shivers down her spine. She knew that when they did join, it would be just like this; gentle, passionate, loving, tender, yet playful and enthusiastic.

He toppled her over onto her back and gently laid her head down on the pillow. Legolas lovingly caressed her cheek, pressed one final kiss to her forehead, then snuggled down in the sheets next to her.

"I love you," he murmured, his arms finding their way around her slender waist. He buried his face in her hair until his nose pushed against the back of her head.

"I love you too, Legolas," her reply came, though softly. She placed her hands over his where they clasped atop her stomach and rested them there. The sound of his slowed breathing and the soft breeze on the air soon lulled her into a deep sleep.