Warning – This chapter contains explicit scenes of torture and violence.

Chapter 42

It was the sibilant pleasure in the last word that finally pulled Thranduil from his enthrallment and had him leaping to his feet and away from the bed with some alacrity before he realised they were no longer alone. A dark, hooded figure stood on the opposite side of the bed and as the king had moved away had uttered a sigh of frustrated disbelief. This was the source of the mesmerizing words that had so nearly driven Thranduil to make what would have been a fatal mistake. The figure moved in with one hand outstretched and as he watched Thranduil saw his son's body respond to the presence by twitching and jerking uncontrollably.

'Just, one, touch.'

Not knowing if the words were spoken aloud or just insinuated into his mind Thranduil felt his skin begin to crawl as he thought about how easily he had almost been manipulated into doing this creatures will. It was then that he finally recalled where he had smelled the strange, sickly sweet scent that he had noticed on entering the room. Many centuries ago he had been under the care of his father's healers after falling into the river as a youngster and almost being swept away. A man had been brought in after being caught in a rock fall a few days before. Both of his legs had been pinned under a large boulder and it had been many hours before he was found and dug out. When he was brought to the healers, infection had set into his wounds and they had both begun to rot and turn black. It was that same smell of decaying flesh that now hung in the air, the scent of corruption.

"You shall not have him, Shadowspawn!"

Thranduil pulled himself up to his full height, bringing his regal bearing to the fore and imbuing his voice with all the power he could muster. Fixing his gaze on the cowled form he moved back towards the bed and felt his heart stutter as the figure began to fade away. Surely it could not be so easy.

It wasn't.

To his horror the room suddenly disappeared, the scene before him changed and he was deep in the forest surrounded by twisted and blackened trees. Dry leaves swirled about his legs, blown by an unfelt breeze and a pale, sickly light filtered down through the canopy above. For a moment the king thought he was alone but as his eyes warily scanned the area a form began to take shape between the trees ahead. He moved forwards warily, painfully aware that the trees held a menacing silence that both unsettled and set his nerves on edge. A flash of anger ran through his mind, he was not used to feeling uncomfortable in his own forest, but he suppressed it forcefully. It would not do to allow his emotions to be controlled by outside forces.

As he closed on the figure he realised it was, once again, Legolas who was before him and his heart constricted with pain. His son was suspended between two trees, his arms pulled out and upwards from his body, wrists tightly wrapped with thick, coarse rope which stretched out to wrap around branches just above head height, his toes brushing the path beneath him. Tangles of blonde hair, tinted a rusty red at the tips, hung down over his bare chest in a matted curtain from a head bowed down and much too still. Curbing the rising tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm him, Thranduil held back his initial need to rush to his son's aid and stood surveying the scene, gathering his resolve and checking to see if they were alone. Scanning the body before him he took in the torn and tattered breeches, bared feet and too thin, alabaster body with eyes swimming with tears. His feet then seemed to move of their own volition and he circled his son, close enough to touch yet not daring to reach out as if doing so would make this dreamlike scene a reality. He nearly lost control when he laid his eyes upon his sons back, using all of his usually steely self control to stop from crying out his anguish.

Legolas' back was a sea of red, the skin having been all but flayed from it, leaving a few scraps of tissue flapping free and exposing the stark white of bone in places where the whip had bitten ever deeply. The young elf's buttocks and legs had not been neglected either and stripes of cloth and flesh hung side by side in tribute to the severity of the beating he had been subjected to. As Thranduil's horrified gaze swung down his son's abused body he noticed the feeble rivulets of blood still dripping from the ends of the remains of darkened breeches to land in the congealing puddle under his feet.

"Legolas." Half plea, half denial, the name floated away on a whisper into the surrounding forest and Thranduil felt his legs give way beneath him as he fell to his knees.

~o~

The first elven patrol had fallen almost without realizing what hit them, the second were luckier as they heard the trees frantic message and most escaped back to the third line in time to send warnings to the commander of the kings army before they too were forced back to the defenses built at the outer limits of Thranduil's halls. Orcs had come, and in such numbers as had not been seen before.

~o~

Aragorn was the first to hear the frantic knocking on the door. Shaking his head and blinking eyelids that felt leaden he looked around as if waking from a dream although in truth, he thought he may just as well still be sleeping. Thranduil and Legolas stood, fixed and unmoving as statues before him, blades raised and crossed, faces almost touching, eyes wide yet unseeing, caught in a single, deadly moment. He frowned, memory lost for a second, before suddenly gasping as recall returned and the pounding on the door penetrated his mind. Turning swiftly towards the noise he noted his brothers and the butler appeared completely absorbed in the tableau before them, eyes locked upon the immobile pair and seemingly oblivious to the world without and he was reminded suddenly of the scene in the forest with Legolas and the great, white stag.

The knocking suddenly stopped.

Crossing the room on hurried feet the young man pulled up before the great doors with an exclamation. He had forgotten the padlocked bar Galion had earlier put in place at Thranduil's explicit order. About to turn away he thought he heard a noise from the other side and stopped to place his ear to the slight crack where the two doors met, holding his breath to hear better. For a second there was no sound, then, just as he was about to turn away again he heard someone speak, too faint to make out the words but definitely a voice. His breath came out in a rush of relief and he pressed his mouth to the thin aperture to hail whomever was in the corridor outside. He waited. There was no reply. He pressed his ear back to listen, straining for any sound but there was only silence.

Turning away in frustration, his eyes once more scanned the scene across the room whilst his mind raced. The first thing he needed was the key to unlock the heavy bar so he moved rapidly towards Galion who had hung the heavy keyring at his belt. As he passed by his brothers however, Elladan reached out and grasped his forearm in a tight grip, effectively halting his progress.

"Nay, Estel!" His older brother whispered forcefully. "Let it be."

Turning incredulous eyes upon Elladan, Aragorn opened his mouth to protest but was cut off as his other brother placed a finger over his lips and leaning in to speak quietly into his ear.

"'Dan is right Estel, You heard Thranduil give the order to seal the room. We must bide by his decision."

"But, you must have heard the knocking."

Shaking his head and scowling at the pair before him Aragorn tried to pull his arm free but Elladan's grip was too strong.

"Something is wrong out there and I can not believe that Thranduil would have meant for us to stay here if the palace is under attack."

"The King's word is law."

Galion had walked over to the trio without Aragorn noticing and now stood regarding the young man with disdain.

"He always knows what he is doing and means exactly what he says."

"But they may need us out there." Aragorn stated, anxiety evident in the rising tone of his voice.

"The King needs us in here." Galion stressed. "You would do well to make him understand." This last was aimed at the twins as he sniffed then walked back to stand before the royal pair as if in silent support.

"This is just ridiculous, let me go!" The young man argued, finally extricating himself from his brothers grip. "Are we to just stand here and do nothing."

"Aye, Estel." Elrohir nodded. "That is just what we must do."

"Remember we are guests in these Halls and must abide by their rules." Elladan soothed. "Much goes on here that is not known in the outside world and Thranduil likes to keep it that way. He has magic that even our father does not fully understand Estel."

"But surely we can help there?" The young man gestured towards Legolas and Thranduil. "Can we not just disarm Legolas now and end this?"

"If you tried, I fear you would kill them both." Elladan said quietly and Aragorn felt his heart twist painfully in his chest.

~o~

The forest rang with the loud clamour of battle. Metal clashed on metal, the air was split with the sibilant rush of a multitude of arrows and orc and elf alike grunted and screamed with effort, hatred and pain.

Half of the elven patrol units which made up the army of Eryn Galen had been ordered to the outer defenses to meet this great orcish threat, whilst the remainder were being held in reserve, guarding the inner fortress against the unthinkable. They were, however, managing so far to stem the tide.

Orcs were predictable. They had no finesse, no battle awareness. They did not usually work as a unit, being single minded in their attacks. Each doggedly fixed on one notion and one alone. The need to kill. This meant that the elves, 'though badly outnumbered, had the upper hand.

The elves were faster, far more agile and worked so closely together that it were almost as if they could read each other's minds. Drilled to military perfection they did not shy from battle, in fact they seemed to enjoy it almost as much as the orcs and relished the chance to rid their beloved forest of the foul creatures who so often lately defiled it. These were wood elves, and once they were roused, they were a force to be reckoned with.

The captains began to notice however that there was a difference with these orcs. Although the majority were behaving in their usual, vicious and expectable manner, a band of about twenty of the creatures had deviated from their normal behavior and were taking no active part in the fighting but had formed a tight circle, standing with their backs together, shoulders touching and weapons drawn as in defense. This was something the elves had not been witness to before and piqued their interest incredibly. The battle raged about this core of orcs, yet they appeared to be the eye at its storm and the captains began to wonder just what it was they guarded so closely.

~o~

Kneeling before his son's battered and beaten body Thranduil tasted salt and knew it was from his own tears. Despair began to well within his chest causing such a searing pain that for a moment he wondered if he had been spitted with a sword. The world swam before his eyes and he knew that it was the end for both of them. A hiss of pain made his head sharply rise and bile rose in his mouth at the sight he now saw. A dark, hooded figure stood behind and to the left of his son trailing a long whip from one hand whilst the other held a wickedly long, narrow blade that it was slowly running down from the young elf's shoulder to his hip. As the blade progressed he watched enthralled, unable to cry out or rise to help the son who now began to writhe in agony as blood began to flow from the newly opened wound. It was only when he looked into Legolas' eyes that he understood the full horror of what he was seeing however.

His son's pupils were dilated and dark with lust and the low moans now escaping his lips were not of pain but of pleasure. His son was enjoying the torture. Nay, more than that, his son was responding to it in a physical manner that should not have been possible. He was actually becoming aroused by it. Pain once more ripped through Thranduil's heart at the thought of his son being perverted in this way by the creature now whispering soft endearments into his ear and for a moment his vision turned crimson, then, the heat of pain was replaced by a chill that spread throughout his body as anger began to set in. This was his son, his beloved only child and he was not going to let whoever had done this to him get away with it. He could only hope and pray to the Valar that the corruption had not gone too far for him to bring Legolas back.

Rising slowly to his feet he allowed his rage to build. This, creature dared harm the one person he cared most for in all of Arda. The one person who had given him a reason to live when he had lost all else. The one who had showed him how to take pleasure in life once more, how to connect with the forest and its people. The one he loved and would die to protect. He felt power rush through him as the forest came to his call. He would not lie down and give in. He would fight, and the forest would fight with him. The hooded creature had not realised his mistake in bringing him outside. Here in the forest he was strong. Here he could take on the world... and win.

A/N

Well. Finally another update and I just want to say thanks for being so patient and I hope it was worth the wait. :)

Special shout out's this time go out to - My-Little-Poison-Secret, Teapot of transformation and Sian22 for taking the time to comment on the last chapter. Thanks so much guys. It means more than I can say.