Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I wish I did.
A/N: Hey guyz! I really sorry I've been unreliable with posts and everything. I just wanted a vacation without computers and stuff, so I took it. But now I'm back and ready to rock and roll!! Yeah, I know, really corny.
Ok, this chapter is going to be rushed, long but rushed, because I really want to end the story as fast as possible. So this chappie is gonna be run over the span of about a month to a month and a half to possibly two months. I hope that's okay with y'all.
POLL #1: Should Damean and Legolas fall in love?
POLL #2: Should Legolas and all the captured Elves escape?
POLL #3: Should this be a happy ending, or a sad ending? Should there be a sequel?
Please tell me what you prefer!! I don't want anyone to go unsatisfied!
Stuff in these ... is slash!!! You have been warned!!
Everything italicized is either in a different language, or is being said in thought.
12 reviews or I won't post the next chapter!! Lol, I don't think that threat works anymore.
Oh! And all the characters are going to be completely 'out of character'. Sorry! Couldn't help it!
"Legolas? Legolas wake up, darling."
The young Elf groaned, closed his eyes, and pulled the silk sheets above his head in an attempt to block out the offending voice. A hand shook his shoulder gently while the previous words were repeated.
"Legolas, you need to wake up, now. It is time for us to leave."
"I don' wanna go!" he grumbled, his voice muffled from underneath the covers. The voice chuckled.
"Get up!" The hand gripped the sheets and pulled them completely off the frame of the Elf. Legolas curled swiftly into a tiny ball to try and retain some heat, but to no avail. He opened his eyes to look around the bright room.
Damean was in the outer room, handing the last two travel bags to a servant. He was dressed richly, yet simply in black velvet breeches and a white cotton shirt that opened at the top to reveal a tan, muscular chest. The human entered the bedroom and smiled cheerfully to see his consort awake.
"Good morning, precious!" he exclaimed brightly.
Legolas grunted unhappily in response. His eyes were still heavy with exhaustion and his limbs felt weak from disuse. "What time is it?" he mumbled as he rubbed his face.
"Nine o'clock in the morning!" Damean said. "Get up, and get dressed; I want to be out of this palace by 9:30."
Legolas grunted again, but got up from the bed and did as he was told. On a chair near the bed was an outfit identical to the one he wore before his capture with one difference: his royal status was not on the tunic as it should have been. He gazed sadly at the garb, fully realizing, but not for the first time, the precarious situation he was in.
The Elf pulled on the dark gray-blue leggings, which were, mercifully, just the right size, and a pale blue shirt. Over that he put a forest green tunic with silver embroidery and a brown belt to hold it up. As a finishing touch, he added a cloak the same color as his breeches.
Damean walked in just as Legolas finished buttoning the clasp on his cloak. "Are you ready, my love?" the human asked in a sticky sweet voice.
Legolas glared hatefully at his captor. Damean's smile was replaced by a frown, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "Legolas, when are you going to except the fact that you and me are together now?"
"We are not together," Legolas replied through gritted teeth. The human slapped the Elf across the face.
"Do not disrespect me like that, slave!" he reprimanded. "Your disobedience will only earn you pain. What don't you understand about that?"
"You must pardon my bluntness this one time, Damean, but we are not a couple. I was taken by my will to become merely another conquest of yours, which you shall encounter many in life. I am sorry if you thought I was here on my own free will, by I regret to inform you that you are sadly mistaken."
"Legolas, now is not the time for me to punish you, but you can bet you will be before this journey is over," Damean said, his voice low and dangerous. He turned away from the Elf, exasperated.
"Is that a threat?" Legolas asked mockingly.
The human rotated his head so he could see his prisoner from the corner of his eye. "No, Legolas, it is a promise. You will learn that I do not break my promises." He left the room silently, leaving the Elf to contemplate on what he just heard.
"I don't see why I have to be bound," Legolas grumbled. "Where would I run, anyhow? We are in the middle of a desert."
"It is a precautionary, slave," Damean replied without looking at the Elf. "If you open your eyes, you will see all my slaves are bound."
Legolas glanced at the group of people collecting in the courtyard. His father, Aragorn, Lumlier, Mandolin, Falacas, and a handful of very important Elven nobles were indeed tightly chained just as their Prince was. The young Elf bristled at the unfairness of everything and quietly cursed the Valar. He knew such thoughts would just bring more bad luck, but he figured nothing more serious than this could possibly faze him.
"How long is this voyage?" Legolas asked.
"Approximately 23 hundred miles. It will take us a little more than a month, if we travel by oliphant."
"A what?" Legolas hissed. "You mean to bring that giant beast into my home?"
"Oh no!" Damean chuckled. "We will be traveling by horse as soon as we hit the Old Forest Road."
Legolas smirked gleefully on the inside. The Haradrim was taking the long way to Mirkwood. They could easily make the trip in half the time of they took a boat up river of the Anduin. But if the human King was too stupid to realize it, Legolas would not point out the short cut.
A small woman slave from Gondor gently took hold of seat-like harness that was being lowered from the carrying box on top of the oliphant. "My Lord," she said meekly to the curious Elf. "Please, sit, so we may pull you up."
Legolas softly gripped her neck and cheek bones with his chained hands and said, "My beautiful Lady, I am no more free than you are. Please, do not call me 'Lord'." The woman blushed and asked him again to sit. Legolas sighed and sat stiffly in the leather harness; a Haradrim already in the box jerked the rope up, nearly unseating the frightened Elf. He held on tightly to the side of the harness, praying to the Valar that he would not die, even though moments before he had been cursing them.
Once Legolas was pulled to the top, one of the Palace Guards took hold of his upper arms and dragged him to a corner that was occupied by luggage. The soldier shifted through the bags until a small opening was made, then he thrust Legolas into a sitting position in the hole. "Stay," the Guard grunted then turned to heave up his King.
Legolas pushed himself up so he could see over the side of the box. At that moment, in the oliphant behind the Haradrim King's, Thranduil, along with his subjects, was being handled in the same disgracing manner. Legolas settled back in his little niche, anger coursing like fire through his veins. The Elf-King was thousands of years older than the arrogant human was yet he was treated no better than a field mouse.
Damean stepped into the box and smoothed his hair behind his ears. "I'll never get used to that," he admitted to Legolas. The Elf glared but said nothing. "What is the matter slave?" Damean asked.
"I don't appreciate you treating my Father like less than a sack of grain!" Legolas snapped.
"You know, however beautiful I find your voice, it will soon become bothersome to me, and we don't want that, now do we?" Damean mused. He drew out a long piece of cloth and shoved it between the Elf's perfectly aligned, white teeth.
"There! That should do it!" the human said in a victorious tone. Legolas shouted curses upon the hated King in every tongue of Arda that he knew.
"Silencieux Silence!" Damean spat and cuffed his consort. Legolas, still muttering bad things about the human, recoiled and rolled himself into a little ball, keeping as much distance between his captor and himself. Damean rolled his eyes and went to the front to direct the now-in-motion caravan.
Almost a two weeks later, when the group had already settled down in their makeshift camp, Legolas approached the human King.
"My Lord," he said. "I was wondering if you would grant me a favor."
"What would that be, midear?" Damean replied, his speech slurred. He was drunk, as usual.
"My kin have not eaten since before this journey began. They are — fading. Please, will you allow them food?"
"Why should I grant them the luxury of food if they do not respect me or think of me as their overlord?" Damean asked. He stood and swayed dangerously before regaining his balance.
"I do not know, my Lord," Legolas said. "But I promise you that they will be more — more obedient if you are kinder to them."
"Kinder?!" bellowed the human. "I have been kind! I have allowed them to live for goodness sake! Why should I keep sacrificing for others' when they do not appreciate it?"
Legolas lowered his head; this talk was not going as planned. "Please, my Lord. If you give them this, they would be forever grateful."
Damean stroked his chin thoughtfully. A malicious grin suddenly adorned his face, his eyes twinkling with corrupt light. "I will give them bread and water," he said. Legolas' face visibly relaxed. "But for every slice your kin and that despicable ranger eat, you receive two lashes with a whip."
"Done!" Legolas said without thinking. His family and friends were the only ones he could think of; his own welfare meant nothing to him at that moment.
"Good. Balim! I want you to tell the cook that I want two loaves of bread cut into twenty slices each and given to the slaves," Damean ordered.
"Yes, sir," Balim, a squire in the service of the King's best soldier, said and bowed.
Legolas quickly calculated the amount of lashes he would receive if both loaves were consumed. Eighty. The Elf winced. He had never encountered such a whipping in his life. The highest it had ever been was fifty, and that was when he had Aragorn had been captured by orcs on their many adventures. Legolas had felt the need to protect the human and took his as well as the ranger's share of lashes. This was somehow much more perilous.
Thranduil's eyes refocused when he heard a person approaching. It was a servant of the royal cook bringing them food and drink. "From my Lord, the King," the servant said. "He wishes you a good meal and bids you to rest unafraid this night."
Thranduil nodded his head and took the heavy platter from the servant. He handed the water out to his eight subjects, to the fallen King of Gondor, and finally leaving one for himself. Then his set the bread in the middle of the circle they had formed on the ground. "Let us eat," he said in a quiet voice. The Elves smiled and reached for a piece of bread. Lively, yet low, chatter soon began amongst the captives and all was well for those few minutes.
Aragorn slid over next to the Elven King. "You are not eating," the Elf remarked.
"Nor are you," Aragorn replied with a wry smile. Thranduil looked in the opposite direction of the eating Elves. Aragorn followed his gaze and was surprised to see the King looking at his son, curled in a fetal position. Legolas appeared to be in a trance, perhaps a light sleep.
"My son has not eaten either," Thranduil said. "I do not want to allow myself this privilege if Legolas does not also get it."
Aragorn put a callused hand on Thranduil's shoulder. "You need your strength. Eat, so we may find a way to escape. We are Legolas' only hope, and if we are weak from mal-nourishment, he will have lost that hope."
"You are right," Thranduil said. "I shall eat, if you do."
Aragorn swept his arm toward the near empty platter. "After you."
"They have finished, slave," Damean said, his tone revealing nothing. "It is time for you to uphold your part of the bargain."
Legolas rose gracefully and stood with half closed eyes before his captor. "Let us get this over with."
Damean shoved the Elf in front of him and ordered him to move. Legolas' feet dragged on the soft earth; he was dreading the impending punishment. From the corner of his eye, Legolas saw Thranduil stand to his feet in a worried fashion. The younger Elf turned sad eyes to his father, telling him silently not to do anything rash. Thranduil sat back down, hard. What was his son doing?
The answer was soon apparent when Damean wrapped shackles around Legolas' wrists and strung him up on a low hanging limb near the puzzled slaves. Legolas stretched his body as far as it would go, but still his feet barely touched the ground. It seemed the Haradrim King wanted the Elf to be in as much discomfort as possible. Then the lashing began. The first kiss of the whip stung like fire on his skin, but Legolas quickly numbed his body so he would feel none of it. He just jerked against his bonds with each blow.
Faintly he heard his father screaming for the King to halt his madness and he saw Aragorn with clouded eyes struggling to reach his side. Then Legolas shut down, his entire form going limp and his breathing ragged from abuse. Damean struck him one last time, finally reaching the promised eighty lashes. Aragorn was red in the face from his futile attempt to rescue Legolas.
Damean lowered the whip. "If anybody so much as touches him without my consent, they will wish they were dead."
Thranduil shot flaming daggers at the human as he walked passed them. The scum would die a most painful death for harming his son before Thranduil drew his last breath. That he vowed.
Legolas opened his eyes. Pain hit him like a tidal wave and he quickly wished he was still unconscious. He moaned and moved to rub his eyes only to discover he was still hanging from the tree. The smell of his puddle of blood reached his keen nose, making him nauseous.
Legolas heard shouting behind him and several beings ran up to him. He groaned as they disturbed his wounds as they gently unlocked his wrists and lowered him to his knees. The young Elf coughed when air poured more easily into his lungs and he raised bleary eyes to see who his savior was. He met the concerned gray eyes of Aragorn and the angry blue eyes of his father. Behind them, the eight other Elves watched apprehensively.
"He's lost too much blood," he heard Aragorn say. "I don't think he's going to make it." Legolas' eyes fluttered closed and the soothing darkness approached, quickly claiming him.
"Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan na ngalad. Legolas, come back, come back to me." Hear my voice, come back to the light.
I don't want to come back, Legolas said to the voice. It is so peaceful here! Leave me be!
"Legolas, ion nin, saes, tolo dan na nin. Le melon." Legolas, my son, please, come back to me. I love you. (A/N: I'm not sure if my translation, or even my Elvish, is correct, but I did get it off of a translation site.)
I cannot remember what love feels like, Legolas said bitterly. Please go away.
"Melin ceni hin lîn síla i 'eladhach, Legolas. Saes, tolo dan na ngalad." I love to see your eyes shine when you laugh, Legolas. Please, come back to the light.
Legolas gasped as he was suddenly pulled back into his own body and away from the darkness that had embraced him and had taken his pain away. He wildly rolled his eyes around, trying to recognize his surroundings. Hands held down his bucking form as Legolas tried to free himself. "Daro i!Stop that! You will hurt yourself even more!"
The young Elf went limp, his strength spent. "Where am I?" he asked.
"You are currently in Rhosgobel, the house of Radagast the Brown," the gentle voice said.
"What!?" yelped Legolas. He sat up so fast his head began spinning and he got an instant migraine. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to numb himself against the onslaught of fresh pain.
"You have been unconscious for the past two weeks. I thought I had lost you!" Thranduil's face came into view of Legolas' squinted eyes. Tears welled in the older Elf's eyes and he pulled his youngest son into a hug. Legolas flinched from the contact to his surprisingly still sore wounds.
"Elessar nearly spilled his life force into saving you," Thranduil explained with a grateful grin to the bashful human.
"It was nothing," Aragorn said.
"Then Master Radagast was kind enough to allow you to rest in his home after Aragorn healed the worst of your wounds. Yet you showed no sign of life until this morning. The Valar were merciful enough to send you back into my life." Thranduil's voice broke as he began sobbing.
"Master Mithrandir sends his deepest apologies to you, Prince Legolas," Radagast said. His voice was high and reminded the Elf of birds chirping in the dawn. He was a tall, thin, old man with coarse red hair and beard that hung to the middle of his torso. "He had no idea he had magicked the objects to imprison you. He is fervently working on a spell to break the collar from your neck."
Legolas long, slender fingers flew to his throat. They connected with the cold metal of the collar and his face fell. "Where is Damean?" he asked fearfully.
"Outside, packing a horse for you," Aragorn said. "We are leaving tomorrow morning. We ride through the Old Forest Road to the River Celduin. Then we follow the river to your father's gates."
"I wonder what Damean would do if I pushed him into the Enchanted River," Legolas muttered, thoughtfully.
Thranduil laughed. "Can you sit up?" The younger Elf, with assistance, was able to prop himself against the simple headboard. The Elven King produced a small cup of water; Legolas drank greedily. Next he was fed a porridge-like substance that tasted of maple and honey.
"I feel refreshed," Legolas. "Hannon le Thank you."
"Why don't you sleep, my son. I will wake you on the morrow to leave." Legolas nodded, happy to comply. He settled back in a comfortable position in the fluffy pillows and let his eyes glaze over and he was lost in the world of Elven dreams.
"I don't care how you do it, just wake him up!" a frightened voice echoed through the room. Legolas blinked his eyes slowly, but did not move out from under the warm covering.
Moments later a terrified Falacas came running in. "Prince Legolas, please get up! He is going to kill your father if you do not stop him!"
"What!?" Legolas cried and struggled to untangle himself from the sheets. "Help me walk!" Falacas grabbed his Prince's arm and practically dragged the Elf to the door where Legolas could see Damean advancing on his fallen father with a sword.
"Damean, stop this madness!" Legolas shouted from the door.
The Haradrim King looked up, his eyes nearly popping from their sockets from rage. "This is no business of yours, slave!" he roared back.
Legolas released himself from Falacas' hold and limped quickly to his captor. When Damean failed to notice his hurt consort, the Elf threw himself in front of the human, one hand around taking hold of the sword hilt, and the other pressing against the human's chest to stay his movements.
"Legolas, get off me!" Damean said as Thranduil rose and moved some distance away. The older Elf stared with wide, anxious eyes while his son stepped between Thranduil and his would-be killer. "Legolas, did you not hear my words? Unhand me or I shall kill you!"
"Va! No!" Thranduil hissed, fearing for Legolas' life.
When Damean continued to push forward with fire flashing in his eyes, paying no heed to the weakened slave trying to hold him back, Legolas wrapped his arms around the human's neck and buried his face at the point where shoulder met neck. "Please, master, do not harm him," he whispered the King's ear.
Damean stopped in his tracks, confused and surprised at the sudden action, and nearly shivered with delight as warm breath connected with his ear. "He is not worthy of your anger, master. Do not waste your time on lowlifes like my father. Concentrate on what is being offered to you!" Legolas then gently nipped the human's earlobe and kissed along his pronounced jawbone until he met Damean's lips. The Elf caught the Haradrim off guard when he smashed their lips together in a desperate, though obviously reluctant, kiss.
"Please, leave him be!" Legolas said one last time when he was sure he had the human's attention.
Damean smiled pleasingly. "You are beginning to learn your place in life, my love. Very well, I shall let him alone this time, but do not be so quick to defend him in the future for it will be you who will be hurt."
Legolas nodded and let go of his captor. Damean sheathed his sword, grabbed Legolas' hand and stalked to a large, black war stallion that was stamping impatiently. "You will ride with me until you are fit to walk." He swung the Elf effortlessly into the saddle and climbed in behind him.
"My thanks for your hospitality, Master Radagast," Damean said politely with an inclined head. The wizard smiled coldly and turned on his heel to enter his house.
"What of my father and my people?" Legolas dared to ask.
"They are to walk along side my soldiers horses," Damean replied. "I have taken into recognition that they are weak and may not be able to keep up so I will keep the pace — slow."
Legolas did not trust the evil hint or the smile he heard in Damean's voice. His suspicions proved true when the human kicked his stallion into a canter, heading for the path of the Old Forest Road. "You call this slow?" Legolas roared.
"Do not question my authority, Elf!" Damean ordered. "Now, be silent. I do not want to hear another word from you unless I permit it!"
Legolas glowered. He wouldn't allow that beast to treat his father and subjects like this! "And what of Aragorn?" Legolas asked not heeding the warning only minutes before.
"Didn't I say I wanted silence?" Damean remarked. "Elessar is expected to keep up."
"This is not fair, Damean!" Legolas protested. "Your quarrel is with me, not them! Why punish them when they have done you no wrong? Please! Allow them to ride!"
"Pleading will get you no where in life, slave," Damean said bitterly, thinking of the times he'd begged his desceased father for things. "I learned that, and now so shall you."
Legolas peered to his left and watched as his beautiful forests rushed by. Suddenly he grabbed the rein connected to the left side of the bit and pulled hard. The black stallion whinnied and reared angrily, trying to unseat his riders.
Damean leaned far forward sending his mount to ground with his weight then pulled the horse in tight circles to stop him from rearing again. When he was certain the stallion was calm enough, Damean stopped the circling and yanked Legolas' head back by his hair and demanded, "Legolas, what did you think you were doing?!"
Legolas lowered his lashes and saw his father leaning forward, his hands on his knees, panting heavily. He also saw, for the first time, the coarse noose around everyone's neck. So that was how they were forced to keep up. Thranduil looked up, silently thanking his son for the brief reprieve; they had been running for nearly half an hour. Usually an elf would not tire, but in their weakened, malnutritioned state, their strength was leaking from them fast. Aragorn was hardly better off; the throne had made him soft compared to the wilderness hardened ranger the Elf once knew.
"You missed the Old Forest Road in your haste to punish my kin. I was just trying to direct you down the right path," Legolas said. "I am sorry if I offended you by trying to help."
"Do not mock me with that tone, slave!" Damean barked. He seemed at a loss for words about his mistake.
"I am sorry, my Lord. I will not attempt to help you again without your consent," Legolas replied, knowing Damean's blood was boiling by now. The Elf was purposefully making a fool of the human before his men.
Damean renewed his tight grip in Legolas' hair and pulled his head back harshly, exposing more of his neck. Falacas straightened and stepped forward, determined to stop the abuse being done to his Prince. The guard his neck rope had been given to yanked back on the rope, causing the graceful Elf to stumble and fall on his back. The guard drew his sword and pressed his gently on Falacas' throat, denying his wish to stand.
Legolas swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, as he watched the older Elf being thrown to the ground. "I will hear no more talk, from any of you!" Damean declared. "Let the Elf rise; we need to continue." The human finally let go of Legolas' hair and kicked his stallion. The horse reared again and set off at a gallop; he was ready to run!
Several minutes later, Legolas heard a distinct thud and risked looking back. Aragorn had fallen and was unable to rise again. Thus he was dragged dangerously close to the horse's hooves he had been running next to. The Elf watched as the Haradrim Guard jeered at the ex-King of Gondor.
"Damean, please, stop!" Legolas begged to his captor.
"What is your problem now, slave?" the King growled.
"'Tis Aragorn! He has fallen!"
"Well it is his fault he cannot rise!" Damean said with a laugh.
"Your man will not allow him to! Every time he gets a leverage of some type, that guard knocks him back down! You must do something!"
Damean wheeled his stallion around suddenly, causing his men to nearly crash into each other as they hurried to stop. Aragorn flopped onto his back as he breathed hard, trying to catch his breath. "Get up, slave!" Damean cried.
Aragorn groaned deep in his throat and rolled onto all fours before slowly rising. Damean nudged his horse over to the beaten human. "Can you run no further?" he asked softly, almost gently.
Aragorn, though he loathed admitting it, shook his head. The Haradrim clenched and unclenched his teeth several times before commanding that the captives be allowed to ride. The Elves and Man gratefully climbed on in front of the Haradrim Guards. The King glared at everyone and said, "Is there anything else?" Naught a word was said. "Good. Then let us ride on!"
The company rode until they hit the halfway mark of the Old Forest Road before stopping in a clearing near a fresh water lake that Mandolin had recommended. It was just after five in the afternoon. Damean dismounted and roughly pulled Legolas off after him. The King was in a bad mood; they had not ridden as far into the forest as he had hoped and all the stopping and going had finally chased him into losing his temper.
"Put up the tents!" he snapped at his bewildered guards who hurried to comply.
"Is there anything I can get you?" Legolas asked dutifully.
"My horse," Damean muttered, seemingly lost in thought. Seconds later he shook his head as if ridding his mind of the clouds invading it and said, "Yes, bring me my horse."
Legolas nodded, puzzled, but relieved. The stallion was drenched in sweat and seemed to wobble in weariness with every step he took. Damean took the reins and softly scratched the horse's forehead. "I'm sorry," he mumbled to the animal. "I didn't mean to push you so hard. Let's get you cleaned up." Damean entwined his fingers with Legolas' and led his horse in the direction of the lake.
The King took the saddle from the horse's back and dripped water on his sides to cool him down. Once the stallion was completely wet, the human took off his bridle and let him graze.
"Does he have a name?" Legolas asked as he watched the magnificent creature eat.
"I call him Legacy," Damean replied.
"Legacy? Why?"
"His sire was the fastest stallion of this Age, and his dam was the most beautiful mare ever to be seen. He was born with both virtues; so I named him Legacy because it means 'inherited'. His former owner used to abuse him and I couldn't handle it, so I bought him."
Legolas' formed his mouth to look like an 'o'.
Damean smiled. "I sound like a fool, don't I?"
"No," Legolas said. "You sound like you really love him."
"I do," Damean admitted. "I have a soft spot for animals, although I may not show it. Any creature that suffers, I take pity upon."
"You could've fooled me," Legolas muttered.
"I heard that," the King said sleepily as he lowered himself to the ground.
"Good," the Elf replied saucily.
"Legolas, it is not my fault you continue to disobey me. Remember our conversation before my coronation? I said I would hate to punish you during this relationship, but I asked that you heed my wishes. You have not done so thus far."
"What about the other week when you nearly whipped me to death!? That was not punishment! That was for your own sick humor!" Legolas exclaimed.
"I thought that would teach you not to bargain with other peoples' lives if you do not even have your own secure."
Legolas snorted"Dôl lost lîn. You have an empty head."
"You know I don't like it when you speak in that cursed tongue of yours," Damean said.
"Rhachon le! Nai Ungoliant meditha le! I curse you! May Ungoliant devour you!" Legolas hissed as he stormed off. A/N: Ungoliant is an evil creature of spider-form who was Melkor's accomplice in the Darkening of Valinor, and who fled with him to Middle-earth. The creatures that infested the Ered Gorgoroth were her offspring and descendants, as was Shelob who dwelt on the borders of Mordor.
"Legolas! Get back here!" Damean yelled at the retreating back of his consort. "Legolas!"
Damean allowed his horse to dry and eat his fill before lightly placing the riding gear in its place and taking off at a trot back to the camp. There, the human found his Elf sitting beside Aragorn next to the fire, cleaning his wounds that he had acquired when he was dragged next to the horse.
Damean grabbed Legolas upper arms and hauled him up from the ground and slapped him harshly across the face, causing him to lose his balance. Aragorn stood up and exclaimed, "Hey! Leave him alone!"
Damean whirled around and punched the ex-King in the jaw sending him perilously close to the burning flames. Legolas picked himself up and stood proudly, his chin held high, ready for any punishment he was likely to be given. The human turned back to his current problem and yelled, "You are the most insolent, spoiled, little brat I've ever met!"
"Then I suppose you've never had the chance to look in a mirror!" Legolas retorted, angrily. "I am sorry the despicable, vile creatures you call parents deprived you of that when you were a child, but I feel they have no remorse, the greedy pigs that they are. You are no better than an orc!"
Damean nostrils flared, and they were rimmed white with rage. "Beornin," the King called, not loudly, but it was not gentle whisper either.
"Yes, my Lord?" a young man of about twenty spoke, stepping forward.
Damean gestured for the man to come closer. Beornin did so fearfully. The King whispered softly in the younger one's ear; Beornin stiffened almost immediately. "Yes, my Lord," he said. Legolas examined the young man's face closely: he seemed frightened and somewhat disgusted.
Damean then turned his full attention back to Legolas. "Do you remember when I told you that you would be fitfully punished ere this journey was over?" he asked after staring at Legolas for a several minutes.
"Yes," the elf replied hesitantly.
"Your time has come." Damean made a fast gesture with his raised hand and several guards rushed forward and quickly brought the Prince to his knees.
"Damean, what is the meaning of this?!" Legolas demanded outraged.
"Silence!" the human roared. "Beornin, is it ready?"
"Yes, my Lord," the young man answered automatically. Damean slipped his hand into a thick glove and stepped back towards the fire, to the seething Elves and Man. He picked up a white-hot piece of iron from the heart of the flame and looked at Legolas.
"Strip him of his shirt!" the King ordered. A guard immediately knelt in front of the captive and cut away the cotton material with his dagger. "Lower him to the ground!" Again, the King's orders were swiftly followed out and Legolas found himself looking up at the trees of his home forest.
"Do you know what this is, slave?" Damean hissed. He held up the iron for all to see.
"'Tis a brand," Legolas panted out. He was growing scared of what was to come.
"Very good!" Damean said as if he was a teacher and a student had just given the right answer. "It has the Harad royal insignia on it. We mark all our cattle and horses in the stables and pastures with it. Have you ever been branded, Legolas?"
"No," Legolas replied. His breathing was coming out in short harsh gasps. He licked his dry lips and his eyes roved around, looking for an escape, terrified of the crazy madman holding the metal.
Thranduil leapt to his feet. "If you dare lay a hand on my son, you'll wish you were dead," he growled.
"I would advise you to stay out of this, Elf, lest you want to be burying your son on the morrow," Damean said, carelessly swinging the brand about. Aragorn stood again and, along with Lumlier and Falacas, took hold of Thranduil, immobilizing him to keep him from putting Legolas in more danger.
Damean proceeded to stand next to his consort. "We put this on nearly all of our animalistic property," he murmured. "On horses and cattle, it is usually on the point of the hip. But I think we can put it a bit higher on you."
The human carefully positioned the hot iron above a section of pale skin to the right and a little bit below Legolas' belly button. The Elf whimpered as he felt his skin blistering even before the iron had touched him. Suddenly, Damean lowered his arm, and contact was made.
It took Legolas a moment to realize the screaming he heard was his own. The pain from the white-hot brand was searing. Legolas had never known anything like it; not the lash of a whip nor the brokeness of a bone could rival the anguish he was in now. Damean pressed the iron further into the burnt flesh, ripping more agonized cries from the young Elf's throat.
The guards holding Legolas down cringed away from the unearthly sound and flocks of birds took flight from the trees. Thranduil struggled mightily against his friends who were doing what they thought was best by holding him at bay.
Damean finally removed the iron that had cooled somewhat, tearing skin along with it. Legolas' chest rose and fell with ragged breath; the pain still lingered and he could not speak.
"Next time, when I call you back to me, I expect you to answer and obey," the human said icily.
"Yes master," Legolas replied in a shaky, breathy whisper. The guards stood from the ground, bringing their charge along with them.
"Shackle him to that sapling," Damean said. He sauntered to his tent and no more was seen of him that night.
The soldiers pushed the Elf in a kneeling position, with one leg on each side of the young tree, and roughly pulled his arms behind the bark, roping, and chaining, the pale wrists together in an 'x'. Legolas, still shaken and hurting from his ordeal, hung his head in shame and pain, trying ineffectively to block out the world. When he could not he look to the stars that were winking at him, and he listened to the trees' soothing words of apology and hope.
Thranduil watched as Legolas suffered on his own and cursed himself for not stopping what had happened. He must be the worst father in the history of Arda.
As the dawn passed, the sky turned cloudy and a light drizzle descended upon the company who were shaking off the remnants of sleep. Thranduil ducked his head as he exited the tent of the soldier that was guarding him and looked around for his son. Legolas was still chained to the sapling at the edge of the clearing, his head resting on the trunk of the tree, his eyes closed.
Thranduil had to take a second look. Legolas' eyes were closed. In the Elven world that meant two things: a healing sleep or death. The ElvenKing hurried to his son's side and shook his faintly scarred shoulders. "Legolas, ion nin, wake up!"
Legolas blearily blinked and opened his eyes halfway. "What?" he groaned.
"I thought you had passed to Mandos' Hall!" Thranduil cried. He cupped the younger Elf's face in his soft hands to get a better look at him.
"I hurt too much to be dead," Legolas muttered and shifted against the rough bark of the tree.
Thranduil's happy smile was wiped off his face as he heard his son speak. "I am so sorry, Legolas," he said, tears pricking his eyes.
"You know," the archer said after a moment's pause. "I think we've both cried more than we have in our entire lives since my capture."
Thranduil laughed and rubbed Legolas' hair affectionately. Unfortunately, their peaceful moment together was ruined when Damean emerged from his tent, stretching like a cat before a fire. He instantly saw father and son talking and broke up the chatter.
"Legolas, I don't believe I gave you permission to speak," he said, staring down at the two Elves.
The Prince lowered his eyelashes in submission. He couldn't take another beating, especially since his burn was now oozing, which could only mean it was infected, and it was still throbbing. "I am sorry, master. I didn't know I was not allowed to. Forgive me?"
"Well, you didn't know, so I can't punish you," Damean said gently. "Just don't do it again, ok?"
Legolas nodded and looked up at Damean with his big blue eyes. The human chuckled and knelt behind him. "Those eyes will be the death of me," he jested as he unlocked the manacles and cut the rope. Legolas brought his arms around to his chest and rubbed the raw skin. Thranduil caught hold of the hands to inspect the flesh and tutted.
"You struggled, didn't you, ion nin." It was not a question. "I should put a poultice on this. That is, if you allow me," Thranduil said to Damean.
"Of course. My consort deserves the best when he is behaving," he said. "We are leaving at half past. Be ready, my love." Damean swooped down and claimed Legolas' lips in a demanding kiss, only letting him go when he was out of breath.
"I hate it when he does that," Legolas murmured to his father. Thranduil snorted in agreement and applied the salve to the red wrists, and then he wrapped a thin layer of bandage around them to keep the salve moist.
"Do you think it wise to be riding in the rain?" Legolas asked Damean when the human had come to fetch the Elf.
"No, but I want to reach the river by tonight. If we do so, then I shall be at my kingdom by tomorrow, or the following night," Damean replied. He swung Legolas into the saddle as easily as the day before. The Elf cried out as he was forced to use his stomach muscles to stay upright, causing his burn to throb more.
"My Lord?" asked an older soldier. "Are the prisoners going to ride with us?"
"Of course!" Damean declared. "Hurry and collect your Elf so we might be on our way!"
The company cantered throughout the day, only stopping for brief rests for meals. They reached the Celduin just after the sun was hidden behind the trees, throwing off enough light to set up the tents and start a fire.
Legolas groaned in pain and lay a few yards away from the blazing orange heat. His brand was so sensitive to everything, even the air, and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to scream out in anguish. Legolas wished now more than ever he had Elrond's healing hands working their magic on his wound. His prayer was nearly answered when he heard a soft psst!
The young Elf sat up and looked around, searching for the source of the noise. His keen eyes could just make out the silhouettes of two identical persons hidden in the shadows of the trees. It was the twin sons of Elrond! Legolas was overjoyed to see his friends. The elder of the two, Elladan, beckoned him to them.
Legolas rose, glanced around to make sure nobody was watching him and scurried quickly into the trees. "Legolas! We are so happy they got you back!" Elrohir exclaimed in a whisper. The twins pounced on him and hugged him tightly.
The Prince hissed and shoved them away, clutching his side so no more would come in contact with it. "What's wrong?" Elladan asked.
"You should not be here!" Legolas' gasped. "None of us are safe!"
"What are you talking about? Of course we're safe! Your father rescued you from the human," Elrohir said. "And why are we whispering?"
"My father was capturing along with the rest of the Mirkwoodian Army! We're all slaves to Harad now! If Damean catches you, he'll use you to gain Rivendell as well! You must leave!"
"I don't understand!" Elladan said. "The message your father sent us said you would be reclaimed easily, and not to worry. What went wrong?"
"Damean nearly beat me to death, then used me to gain the throne of Mirkwood. My father was forced to choose, and of course, he let his emotions control his reasoning and he chose to save me. The Haradrims are on their to establish a human reign over the Woodland Realm."
"Legolas! Where are you, my darling love?" Damean called.
Elrohir narrowed his eyes. "Love? Legolas, are you forgetting to tell us something, or are you lying?"
The younger Elf-prince sighed heavily. "Damean took me as his consort. The only way out of it is to die, but then I would be abandoning my family."
"Legolas, I'm so sorry!" Elladan breathed. He pulled the Elf into another hug. Again, the blonde sucked in air in pain and shoved the Noldor away.
"What is it, mellon nin?" Elladan asked. He was most learned in the healing arts, and if Elrond was not available, Elladan was the next best thing.
"He branded me," Legolas replied through gritted teeth. "Do not worry. I will persuade Damean to let my father bandage it."
The older twin peered at the wound with squinted eyes. "Legolas, your wound is infected!" he exclaimed softly. "Does that human not know how dangerous this could get?! I need to get you back to Rivendell; my father should see this as soon as possible."
"No!" Legolas hissed angrily. "If I leave, Damean will kill my father, my brothers, my brothers' wives', my niece, and my beautiful Lithuial without blinking. Then he'll move on to Rivendell and kill Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, and so many others."
"LEGOLAS?!" Damean bellowed. "Come to me, now!"
"I have to go!" Legolas whispered. He crouched and crawled away from the twins, but before he was out of hearing range he said, "Ride to Rohan. Estel's son, Eldarion, is there. Keep him safe at all costs!"
A/N: I know, I know! Extremely sucky place to end it right?? Sorry! I just figured y'all would yell at me if I didn't hurry up. Um... I have no beta for this chapter. I think Sirith thinks I'm like dead or something: I haven't e-mailed her in so long! So, please don't yell at me for grammer mistakes. I don't like English, so I don't really bother! That's pretty much it...
Oh! Big "Thank You" to all of my lovely reviewers. I don't know if this fic would've have progressed this far without you!! smoochies
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