Chapter 41

Warning – This chapter contains adult themes of a sexual nature.

Time stopped and he fell forever, tumbling over and over into a pool of shimmering indigo which darkened and closed around him as he descended into its cocoon. Recognition washed over him and Duathion relaxed as vague memories of being held within its silent embrace before awakened. Here he had previously found peace although he had no recollection as to why he should have felt the need then or indeed now. A vague whisper began to insinuate itself into his mind, compelling and familiar as he floated in the dark. Tendrils of midnight mist began to weave themselves around his suspended form, gently stroking along his limbs and sending sparks of sensuality up his spine before they began to tighten almost unbearably causing pain to mingle with the pleasure. Just as he thought the pain would become too much the tendrils began to pulse, relaxing then tightening in random patterns over his body and his mind began to reel under the sensations produced. The faint, sibilant whisper clarified as the sensory onslaught continued and the voice he had come to cling to echoed covetously through it all. A single word, repeated over and over, fueling his ecstasy. 'Mine.'

~o~

Thranduil felt the world fall away and knew with unquestioned certainty that this was the final chance to reclaim his son. Allowing his mind to surge free he hung, suspended in the void, allowing the swirling colourful light surrounding him to resolve into a well-known scene. He was on the elven path, surrounded by the majestic trees of the Greenwood with the faint bubbling song of a brook beside him. A sense of peace pervaded the air and he began to move along the path, reveling in the song of the forest yet knowing it could not last. It was the trees that first heralded the change, their happy, teasing voices gradually becoming quieter and more sorrowful as he progressed. The bright light began to dim and loose its sparkle and the air became thick and cloying. The further he walked the more his heart quailed and his resolve began to weaken. He could not do this. Why did he even try? His son was lost, did not even wish to return so why not just let him go? Why not let himself go? Give up the fight and fly away to peace in the undying lands. The time of the elves was over. Let men deal with the darkness now. His mind raced as his steps faltered.

A flash of movement caught his eye ahead and he stared in astonishment at the small sapling suddenly illuminated by a single ray of golden light spearing down through the darkened canopy. He moved forwards, transfixed and knelt down, reaching out to gently finger the single green leaf sprouting from one slender limb which was now at eye level. A simple song sprang into life at his touch and his mind cleared of all doubt and fear. Love filled his heart as his own song replied unbidden and he rose to his feet with renewed determination. Legolas needed him. How could he have ever contemplated leaving him to the dark? Gathering himself together, he turned his feet back to the path and even as the beam of light disappeared, bringing the gloom closing back in, he held onto the thought of his son out there, somewhere, lost and alone in a nightmare world and determinedly moved forward once more.

~o~

The forest trembled as the hoarde of orcs trampled their way towards their goal leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. The witch king knew that soon, silence would be of no avail as the trees themselves would be passing the tale of their passing along before them yet the longer he could maintain the spell the closer they would get. Also without any warning of their imminent approach, even if they were on alert from the trees message, the wood elves would be unready and unprepared for attack thus dooming them to a speedy end and facilitating his reunion with the prizes he had long awaited. The willing body of the prince and the complete eradication of the woodland elves who had for so long been a thorn in his master's side.

The creatures rushing before him needed no coaxing, the anticipation of the feast awaiting them drove them on well enough so his mind once again sought out that of his, most receptive, slave. The emotion that hit him on their connection almost made him gasp aloud as waves of lust and need rushed along it and for a moment he swayed in the saddle as he was almost overwhelmed. Cutting off the link abruptly he took a moment to gather himself together before slowly casting out his mind once more, tempering the connection so as not to become embroiled within the tumult of emotions. This time he was prepared and managed to read other thoughts beyond those which had at first battered at his own and read the calculations and movements that indicated battle. This then was why his blonde was in such a highly aroused state. He was responding to the conditioning of his captivity and judging by the depth of his response this was no ordinary fight. Gently delving deeper he found what he was looking for and with a rush of excitement, quickly suppressed, as he realised how close he was now to claiming what he had craved for so long, mouthed the word 'mine' before withdrawing his mind reluctantly so as not to distract his converted assassin or alert the opponent he now knew to be Thranduil.

With renewed vigour he called out the order to double their speed and as the orcs began to cover the ground faster and faster decided that the time for stealth was past. Lifting the spell of silence he instead concentrated his power on the golden elf, one possessive word running over and over in his mind, he could not fail now they were so close. 'Mine.'

~o~

Thranduil fought his way through yet another set of brambles that had appeared from nowhere, suddenly blocking the way, twining around his body to rake at his flesh with long, sharp thorns. This was the fourth such bush and each had been denser and thornier than the last. He smiled as the last wiry branch gave way, certain in the knowledge that he was closing in on his son. Whatever, or whoever was trying too hard to hold him back for him not to be headed in the right direction. The path opened up once more before him and he moved forward again without hesitation.

Time had no meaning here so he had no way of telling how far he had travelled when the light began to fade, the trees grew twisted and bent and the path began to suck at his feet as each step went deeper and deeper into the foul smelling mud now covering its surface. The air grew thick and cloying with a bittersweet musky tang and tendrils of mist began to brush against his form as he pressed on. A faint sound began to play at the edge of his hearing and the corrupted trees reached out with sharpened branches to catch at his hair and clothing. Stumbling to his knees after one particularly vicious swipe from a willow branch he felt again a surge of despair but managed to force it down and rise to his feet, conjuring an image of Legolas as a small elfling, smiling up with huge trusting eyes, in his mind and holding onto it as a drowning man would a raft. He would not fail his son.

Then suddenly all was still, the ground once more firm beneath his feet, the trees inert, the swirling mist disappeared. For a moment there was silence, then once more his ears picked up a soft sound which pulled him inexorably on into the dark. The sound became his focus as it gradually increased in level, resolving into moans and soft pants of breath as he progressed deeper into the gloom. Certain, at last, that he was nearing his son, his heart turned over at the thoughts of what was being done to his beloved child swam into his mind. These surely were the noises of an elf being tortured almost to the limits of his capability and he felt a rush of anger so strong rise within him that his body shook from its intensity. His feet took flight and caution fled as he bolted towards the increasingly frantic groans and pleas now echoing ahead.

~o~

Duathion floated in a sea of sensations. His heart was racing within his chest, his skin was alive with over stimulated nerve endings and his breath was coming in such short pants he could hardly take in enough air so that he was fluttering on the edge of consciousness thus increasing the pleasurable feelings to an almost painful extent. His whole body cried out for satisfaction yet one of the dark tendrils that had twined itself around the base of his arousal had tightened so severely he could not find release. A continuous litany of moans and unformed pleas blurted from his mouth between the short breaths and over it all his master's voice rang in his ears, the single word, repeated in perpetua, adding to the need in his groin which throbbed in tempo to its utterance. 'Mine, mine, mine.' Tears leaked from his eyes as he writhed and begged for his master to come and make good his claim.

~o~

Thranduil came to an abrupt stop as a square of flickering light appeared before him. As he stared it resolved into a window set within a huge, stone wall, conveniently placed at about head height. He could now easily recognize the incoherent pleas emanating from behind the window as those of his son and as he stood raking the wall with his gaze for any sign of a door a feeling of relief washed over him as the realization that although his son was suffering through obvious torment, at least he was still alive. Finally determining that there was no door to be seen the king decided that the only way to get to his son was to go through the window and he stealthily approached. He had no intention of alerting who, or whatever, was in there torturing his son to his presence. Flattening himself against the wall he sidled along until he stood at the edge of the opening, then, after taking a deep breath, he slowly turned to peer into the candlelit room within. His eyes opened wide and he exhaled sharply at the sight which met his disbelieving eyes. The room contained naught but a large, oversized bed, draped in white silks and upon it lay his beloved son, naked and very visibly aroused. Spell bound he watched as his son writhed over the sheet, thrusting up into the air seeking friction that was not there. His hands and feet were held as if tied to the bed frame although no sign of bonds could Thranduil see and the pleas and moans spilling from his needy lips were not those brought about by bloody scenes of torture and pain as he had imagined. In horror he saw his son's movement become more frantic as blood began to seep from between tightly clenched fists, the fingernails obviously gouging deep into the palms in his desperation. How had his son been reduced to this? This debauched, lust filled creature writhing in an agony of ecstasy before him?

Sweeping the room again with his eyes to determine that his son was, indeed alone Thranduil pulled himself up onto the edge of the window then lightly leapt into the room. Legolas continued as he had before, apparently totally unaware of his father's presence. A pall of sweat and musk hung over the room along with another, sickly sweet scent the king could not, at first, place. Ignoring the writhing figure on the bed he walked around the walls. There was no door. The only way in or out of the room was by the single window. He allowed his gaze to wander back to the bed. Legolas had his eyes wide open though unfocussed, their pupils so huge that only the finest line of colour could be seen around their edges like a deep blue corona. His lips, red and swollen from being bitten in his extremes were constantly opening and closing as he moaned, whimpered and pleaded for release. A sheen of sweat glistened over his body in the candlelight and his hair was a tangled, unwashed mess. Thranduil moved closer his heart beating painfully in his chest, feeding the anger within. Unable now to tear his eyes away he gazed at his son's slender body, marking the barely fading scars that crisscrossed his chest and thighs and allowed the sight of his son's obvious torture add fuel to his building rage. Now he understood Elrond's twin sons need for vengeance for if he could lay his hands upon whoever had led his precious, innocent son to this pass he would relish their own suffering at his hands.

Shoving the need for retaliation aside for the moment, and with difficulty, he turned his thoughts to how best to aid his son. It was becoming more and more difficult to ignore the impassioned pleas that spilled continuously in an unending litany from the younger elf and he had to fight the increasing urge to give in and allow his son what he wanted in order to stop his torment. The king recognized this for the trap that it was however and knew that that way lay death and damnation for them all. Taking a deep breath to calm himself he moved as close to the figure on the bed as he could without actually touching him and softly called his son's name.

Legolas stilled for a moment, turning his head in his father's direction with unseeing eyes. A small frown flittered across his face before he shook his head and once more began to writhe sensually. Thranduil called again, louder this time and again Legolas stilled, yet this time as his head moved towards his father his sight cleared for a brief moment bringing a flicker of pain to their depths before once again they clouded over and he resumed his movements once more.

Thranduil tried a third time. This time using the high, officious tone he utilized when commands were to be immediately upheld. Legolas jerked his head round as if it were pulled by a string and his eyes fixed with his fathers in a startled gaze.

"Ada?"

The single word held a world of confusion and pain and Thranduil's heart nearly broke at the tumbled wealth of emotions spilling from his son.

"I... need."

Pleading eyes bled into his own and it was all the king could do not to gather his son into his arms and never let go.

"Saes, ada. I need..."

"Hush, ion nin." Thranduil tasted salt from the tears he could not hold back. "All will be well. I promise. We just have to…"

"Saes. Ada. I just…Hold me. Ada. I need you to…" Broken words flowed from Legolas' lips as he tried in vain to push his body towards the king. "Aie! Ada. Just. One. Touch. Just…"

"Legolas!" Thranduil sharpened his tone in an effort to bring some sense back to his son. "Remember to whom it is you speak."

"But I can not. Ada I can not stand this. I neeeeeed…"

The last word descended into a wail of despair as the young elf snapped his hips forwards, thrusting desperately into nothing his arms and legs still caught within their invisible bonds thus restraining him from reaching the contact he so desperately craved.

"Master!"

The impassioned cry cut Thranduil to the quick as it went out.

"Master!" The youngster repeated. "Master. Master. Saes. Master…"

Once again Legolas' eyes had clouded over and Thranduil could see he was almost at the end of his endurance. His resolve weakened as his son thrashed his head from side to side, calling out in ever increasing desperation for the foul creature who had corrupted him to this point. He could not allow this to go on. His son needed comfort and here was he, refusing to give it. 'Just hold him', a voice began to echo in his mind,' just hold him, that is all he needs, one touch and he will find the peace he seeks.' His body began to move of its own volition. Legs bent to enable him to sit on the edge of the bed, arms lifted and hands reached out ready to grasp the young body and draw it close. 'Yes.' The voice whispered with glee. 'That's it. Just. One. Touch.' With each word Thranduil leaned further down towards the body now, trembling with anticipation, on the bed. 'Yes…'

A/N I must apologise for the lateness of this update but I have been plagued by writers block since someone unfoundedly accused my of plagiarism with one of my other stories. She could not name the story I was supposed to have copied from or the author and although I remained polite she became nastier and more acusatory with each pm until in the end I had no choice but to report her.

Anyway, hopefully I am back on track now and the next chapter is already half written so you should not have to wait too long for it.

More than ever I appreciate those of you who are reading this and my other stories and who have added them to your favourites and taken the time to review. I must say a big thank you to you all and send you virtual hugs.

All that remains is for me to give a shout out to those who reviewed the last chapter (all those weeks ago), namely : My-Little-Poison-Secret, sian22, Obsidianglasses, bettsam0731, and to Bea(Guest) I would just like to say I am glad you are still enjoying it and I won't be giving up, even if it takes me while to update.