Chapter 14

A faint groan left his lips as once more consciousness pulled the elf back from the comforting, peace of dreams. Confusion washed over him as his body registered its complaints and pain rushed back in. Trying to pierce the darkness that surrounded him yielded no clue as to where he may be and the only sound his ears could discern was the faint, distant drip, drip, drip of water.

He tried to move, to roll over from front to back but the sear of burning fire that accompanied the shifting of position had him quickly revert to his former, prone, position. Gasping at the air he forced himself to bring his ragged breathing back under control, his senses told him he was alone but he was unsure how much he could trust them at present and would allow no possible onlooker a glimpse of any weakness.

As his breathing eased and his heartbeat slowed the captive slowly reached out a hand to feel his surroundings. He lay upon a surface neither soft nor hard. There was a fabric covering underneath him rather than solid stone, yet it did not yield in the way of a mattress, therefore he was not on a bed. He stretched out questing fingers and caught an edge where the covering fell away and knew he was not directly upon the ground. Wriggling carefully, wincing with every move of his muscles, he inched his way closer to this edge until his hand was able to reach over it to the cold stone below, a pallet then, raised just far enough off the ground to prevent him feeling the chill of cold rock.

Stilling himself once more and exhausted by even that smallest of movement he lay for a moment attempting to gather his wits. Tangled images flitted across his mind but the more he tried to gather them together into a coherent string, the more they skittered away, out of reach. At last, his mind refused to think any longer and his eyelids grew too heavy to keep apart. With one last image of a young man he could not place, staring up at him in horror, he accepted defeat and slid back into unconsciousness.

The next time the elf awoke his disorientation was briefer and he noticed that the pain in his body had seemingly lessened. Easing himself over gently he attempted to pull up into a sitting position and had to stifle a scream as the raw wounds on his buttocks and thighs rubbed against the fabric beneath him. It took a great deal of effort to bring his ragged breathing and the resulting nausea, back under control again, as he sat, completely unmoving, allowing his body to become accustomed to this new burning sensation. Moving his head in an attempt to find the smallest chink of light and his heart sank when he realised that none was there. He had never known darkness so utter and complete, even deep within the stone walls of his father's halls light was encouraged to find its way. The intricate elven designs and dwarven workings having been carried out to give a light airy feel, reminiscent of living under the dense canopy of the Greenwood as it was in lighter times.

Resigning himself to the uselessness of his sight he concentrated upon his other senses, again the only sound he could perceive was the same steady drip of water as before and as hard as he tried he could make his ears hear nothing else apart from the slight sounds generated by his own breathing, or movement.

Sniffing gently, his nose picked up the slightly damp, cold scent of stone with the iron tang and slight acidity of, he presumed, his own blood and sweat. There was also the slight undercurrent of decay but it was so faint as to leave him unsure if it was purely a product of his over active imagination.

His hands smoothed over the fabric beneath him, feeling the uneven weave and patches of rough bobbling upon its surface lending credence to his initial impression of it being a woollen blanket, through which he could feel the flat surface of the wood that obviously made up the pallet on which he had been lying. His feet could feel rough, cold, stone floor beneath their soles and he realised that they were bare, then, with this dawning, came also the unsettling realisation that he was completely naked.

Trying hard to piece together the moments leading up to his present state he got no further than a vague recollection of battle and an unknown youth's face before the whipping that his body remembered only too well forced its way to the fore. He clenched his fists in frustration. How had he come here? Where actually was here? Why was he here? All these questions and more ran in circles around his head yet the answers continued to hide somewhere deeper within.

At last, tired of getting nowhere with his jumbled thoughts he gave in to the urge for action and attempted to rise. Pain exploded through his body once more as abused muscles were stretched and pulled. Collapsing back down into a sea of fire, he barely felt the warm trickle of blood as it began to seep, once more, from re-opened wounds that had barely begun to heal and his mind gave up the fight to remain aware.

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~o~

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"Hush, little leaf, hush now."

The soothing susurration calms me as I awake from heated nightmares into the cool darkness I have come to know as my sanctuary. Lying back I allow the voice to wash over me with its loving caress.

"I am here, little leaf, I am here."

Safe, secure and at peace I float within the rippling shades of my cocoon knowing I am not alone.

The voice fades away and the darkness begins to deepen, joining with reddish tints to add a rich, ruby wine hue. I feel my body begin to warm and slowly the cool, restful dark gives way to a heated glowing crimson that begins to pulsate around and within, gathering intensity as initial pleasurable tingles of excitement give way to a deluge of intense, overwhelming sensations that carry all thought away.

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~o~

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Screams brought awareness flooding back and for a brief moment the elf wondered at their source before the rawness within his throat told him that they were his and he was thrust one more into a waking nightmare of burning pain.

He was again suspended by chains around his wrists as his unknown assailant laid open the welts from his previous whipping. Engulfed in an agony of fire, it was all he could do to regain control of his voice but by a supreme effort of will he clamped his mouth tight shut, determined to grind his teeth into dust rather than utter another sound. As before, his abuser was behind him, out of sight, yet this time he thought he heard a faint, metallic jingle each time the whip fell. Struggling for coherent thought he squirreled the small piece of information away for future consideration hoping it may spark some memory or image to explain his present predicament.

The snap and fall of the whip became almost hypnotic as the elf's mind switched off and allowed his body to soak up the pain alone. The rush of air before the strike almost seemed to whisper the name he had once borne before his exile and felt he no longer deserved. Time shifted and he hung, suspended within a bubble of pain knowing that should he dare dwell upon it, the outer shell would burst and all the agony at present held at bay would come rushing back in.

Watching the crimson bursts upon the rippling skin under his sinuous, leather lash had the witch king almost crying out with pleasure. Each fresh stripe brought a shudder to his cloaked frame that he could not suppress and his chain mail singlet sang softly with each carefully placed stroke. The way the elf bit back his screams in mute refusal to acknowledge his pain fuelled his excitement. Here was such a worthy opponent at last, and the breaking of him would be immeasurably more fulfilling than that of any other in the past.

At last the golden head bowed and the chains above it tightened, signalling that consciousness had once more fled the broken body and after a final lash across the two already bloodied globes of the elf's rear he lowered his arm allowing the whip to trail upon the floor.

Gazing at his handiwork he sighed then slowly moved forward until he was standing as close to the elf's body as he could without touching. He inhaled deeply, sucking up the iron aroma which contained a hint of sweetness he had never smelled from blood before. Unique. A perfect, unique being, and he was so close, so close. He leaned forward, unable to resist and parted his dried lips to allow the dark, blackened tongue within to gently stretch out. A taste. Just a small taste. His tongue quivered as it met the pale, cool flesh at the back of the elf's neck. Ah, so good. He moved lower to lap at the crimson stream flowing from the wheals across the creatures left shoulder and moaned softly. So sweet! So pure! He wanted so much more but knew that, for the moment he dare not take it. He must yet wait until the master's work was complete. But it was so very hard to stop, so very hard not to just take and damn the consequences.

Reluctantly he pulled back, he would not face his master's wrath. He would bide his time, then when it came it would be all the sweeter for the wait. Reaching up he unhooked the chains with one hand whilst wrapping the other arm around the elf's slight body in a gentle hug before carrying him back over to the blanket strewn, pallet to lay him down on his stomach.

He stood staring down at the glorious picture of crimson and ivory spread beneath him as if trying to etch it into his mind then bent to pick up the pitcher of liquid he had placed there earlier in readiness. Pouring the fluid slowly over the open wounds he noted, with satisfaction, that there was no reaction from the prone figure. If he had done his job well, the elf would remain unconscious for enough time for the herbs infused within the water to take effect.

Once the pitcher was completely empty he reached down to run needy fingers through the tangled, golden locks spilling around the elf's shoulders, wishing he could feel them through the metal of his gauntlets then suddenly straightened, spun around and walked out of the room without a backwards glance, leaving the mutilated figure lying on the soaked, cold blanket.

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~o~

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Aragorn opened his eyes, sat up and drew his sword in one fluid motion before he was truly awake. His half elven brothers stood to either side of him staring into the trees above them, heads tilted as if listening intently. Knowing better than to ask, the young man threw off his blanket and keeping as silent as possible, rose to his feet, his ears straining to catch any stray sounds

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They had made camp for the night within a small hollow between two bramble bushes, ringed by tall beech trees. Aragorn had taken an uneventful first watch before his oldest brother had taken over and he had crawled onto his bedroll gratefully, pulling his blanket up to his chin in an effort to stave off the chill that had begun to nip in the air. Although now wide awake it remained dark and his body was telling him that he had only had a few short hours of sleep. Wondering what it was that had woken him he scanned the trees like his brothers, his body tense and on edge.

"Spiders!"

The sibilant hiss came from Elrohir as he nodded to his left then looked at his brothers, his face twisted into a grimace of distaste.

Aragorn felt his stomach lurch, he hated the huge monsters that lived within the dark forest and would rather face orcs any day. Trying hard to pierce the night with eyes that were woefully inadequate to the task he knew he would have only seconds to react when they attacked. Although huge and bulky in appearance, the creatures could move with a speed and agility he had underestimated in the past, very much to his own cost. His mind went back to the first time he had faced them. Legolas had warned him but he had thought his, then new, friend to be exaggerating, playing a trick on the human, so had not taken it to heart. It was only when he had blundered right into the middle of a nest that the reality had hit him, literally, and if not for the archers timely intervention he would have become a tasty snack for the great beasts.

"They come!"

Elrohir's eyes narrowed as even Aragorn could now hear the clicking and rustling noises that heralded the creatures approach through the trees.

"How many?" The young man whispered under his breath.

"'tis difficult to count yet," the youngest twin whispered back. "But I would say at least four, maybe five or six."

Elladan nodded in agreement as the brothers closed together without thinking, in their customary back to back, defensive formation, swords held out in readiness. Aragorn's eyes rapidly flickered across the tree tops straining for the first glimpse of their attackers when he suddenly realised that what he had taken for a long branch, was in fact a leg as it suddenly stretched out as if to point in their direction, before the air was filled the furious clicking of multiple mandibles and a huge mass of elongated limbs, hairy body and sharp fangs launched itself directly towards him.

A/N

Thanks again to all you lovely readers out there and especially to those of you who have followed/favourited this story and to snoozinghamster (I love that name!),alphaomega27, Horsegirl01, BlackMinx17 and Miracles in the dark for letting me know how they feel about it all. If any one else feels they would like to join in please Feel Free to do so :)