Give Me a Reason Why
By: Kuroi Atropos
Warnings: Slash, rape, AU, time/dimension jumps and insanity
Summery/Pairings/Disclaimer: Read Chapter One.
Dedications: everyone who kept reviewing, to everyone who liked the story and most importantly to Julia who I remembered as I started on this again… Miss you babe.
While I was planning to continue this story eventually (if just for my own sanity), I had no set timeframe in mind. I have finally decided to ignore all RL issues, problems with hardware, software, moving, new jobs and all other hells and get this out for every person who has asked and that I have let down by not getting it out when I said I would. If you have been waiting patiently (or impatiently) the only thing I can say is I'm sorry. If no one even remembers, much less cares about this story any more, well, my fault. So to all the people who have kept showing interest in keeping me somewhat honest and have still shown interest (real or feigned) in this story, a shout out, may the remainder of this story be entertaining enough for the problems I have put you through. I apologize for being a b!7(#.
- I looked everywhere I could but honestly couldn't find any particulars on Legolas's family, I don't think there really are any, so I kind of combined a bunch of my favorite ideas about his family and history from fan fiction and my own mind. I know a lot of people don't necessarily mention this, but I felt the need.
-I suddenly realized that I have almost completely left out travel time, but hope that you will forgive that little overlooked aspect for these first chapters, I shall be more careful in the future.
-One last note, I have decided to redo the beginning chapters as I am mildly thinking 'oh my gosh I can't believe I wrote some of that…' Since I have been out of LOTR fandom for so long, this has NOT been Beta Read. If you are willing to Beta upcoming chapters as well as revised old ones, please drop me a line! (A few words of warning, my Betas need to be strong against whining and have a sharp eye for evil be verbs of doom and long drawn out prose.)
"Common tongue"
'Elfish (all forms, for the moment)'
/Dark Language/
Intentional thought speak (you'll see-)
Thoughts and narration and stuff
Flashbacks, PoV and Scene Changes
Chapter Five
Elrond tried to shift his arms in the shackles that held him kneeling on a small circular stage before a newly erected dais and at one end of the Hall of Fire. From his position he could see little but the black throne and the Elvin warriors chained to the walls as decorations to its sides.
To his sides and slightly behind him chained on their knees he could feel the seething anger of Aragorn who had gone mad with the sight of Arwen being tortured and the inferno of hatred that was the dwarf Gimli, son of Gloin, whose father had died refusing to swear his loyal service to Sauron.
It was all he could do to concentrate beyond the pain of all the tortured souls in the room, the elves trapped by some foul magic of Sauron's, unable to release themselves from this plain into the arms of the Valar, a few of the humans, wills still somewhat whole raging against thrall the Ring placed on their minds and actions.
Even though his powers had been weakened without Vilya, he could hear all of their screams echoing through their minds.
He could hear so many other things as well, things about him finally being put in his place, letting others choose their own fates, knowing what it was like to have some strange thing come and wreck your lives for things they deemed important but you couldn't care less about.
How had he and the others of his Council, how had Galadriel, how had the Istari, how had any of those charged through sheer ability to guide the lives of Middle Earth been terrible enough that any person could welcome Sauron's rule? Did they truly believe Sauron would care a whit about their issues when he wanted something?
Even in their minds, the answer was unclear, save for the knowledge that it was better.
He knew of the pall and obsession the Ring cast over enemies on the field of battle, and the increase of a mind's own powers, the ability to cloak oneself in a dimension between life and death, a place that if properly utilized let you know all, even the thoughts that danced in another's soul. But was this the true magic of the One Ring? To batter its enemies with their deepest fear-filled doubts and twist the thoughts of those with weak minds into believing that it's true holder was the epitome of empathy? To twist their thoughts until all that went through their mind led back to Sauron?
Elrond felt the throng before him was still much like he was, in an odd state of shock that everything, absolutely everything, was different if not destroyed. It was as if all was still settling, still hollow, and not quite right. This dark happening was not even close to any possibility discussed, from the greatest of Secret Councils to the lowest forms of gossip.
There had been no safe haven.
Given Galadriel's habit of constantly wearing her ring, the fact that Mithrandir held the third and Thranduil….
He had heard more than a few curses laid on that particular Elf Lord's name in the dungeons that had seemed to spring up in what had once been his peaceful home.
Had there even been dungeons in Imladris before Sauron's coup?
He couldn't remember.
If there had been dungeons, I did not use them. Not even on Orcs. Not that that matters any longer.
Still, it seemed the Woodland King had finally been pushed over the thin line that separated his rational thought and the chaos of rage, greed and humiliation.
Elrond had no doubt that by the end of this night, he would know for certain if his lover's…
Legolas.
He wasn't Thranduil's first born, but in Elrond's and many other's view, he was the best. Legolas's kind temperament and openness had endeared him to the courts of Imladris and Lothlorien far more than his eldest brother Ecthelion's detached apathy or the arrogance of Oretin, the second of Thranduil's three sons. Thranduil's oldest child and only daughter, Melanin, had never set foot outside of Mirkwood (on Thranduil's orders, Legolas had told him). More often than not Legolas (who as the youngest child would normally be pushed into the background) had been invited to represent the realm of Mirkwood at any important gathering of Middle Earth, where he quickly gained respect not just for his title or diplomatic bearing but for his sense of justice and honor, his resolve to protect all life, and his joyful, inquisitive demeanor.
Many eyes lit upon the Prince, and Elrond took some small pride in the fact that the Prince had haltingly come to him for advice on how to deal with the more, direct, suitors. It had been several years later and Elrond had garnered no small affection for the young elf, when Legolas came to him again, this time to tell him of an unknowingly mutual affection.
Elrond could in no way picture Legolas's bright spirit having been brought so low so quickly as to willingly cave to that monster. One of Legolas's faults was that he had the tendency to act on what he believed to be right and true before fully thinking the action through. His lover stood up for those who managed to win their way into his heart to the point of placing himself…
That… That had to be it!
It was just as when Legolas stood toe to toe with the man Boromir when the foolish man spoke down to Aragorn. If Sauron threatened those Legolas cared for, which truth to be told wasn't that hard with Rivendell fallen and Mirkwood's fate in the hands of such mentally weak leadership, Legolas would do whatever he felt necessary to keep them alive.
Even allow himself to be taken to Sauron's bed.
Elrond again cursed his ability to shed tears.
The procession of the Dark Lord Sauron made its way sedately down the halls of what had been Rivindell towards the throne room, the once grand Hall of Fire.
Legolas alternately scoffed at and feared the fact that the Dark Lord had guards around this small company. Several in a position that would allow them to swiftly step between the group of Lords trailing Sauron and himself like dogs if any of them inconceivably made a move against the pair.
How his lover would have balked at the idea of needing guards, much less a foreign dignitary needing guards while under his hospitality. The Last Homely House earned its name for a reason. Never had the safety or comfort of any visiting Lord been in doubt while Imlardis had been under the guidance of Elrond.
The difference between his lover and the ice hearted creature at his side seemed so pronounced to him at this moment he had to choke down a scream. He looked at the floor to avoid seeing at the smirk he could feel emanating from Sauron's face at his small show of emotion.
Legolas clenched his jaw as he fought the urge to strike back against the silk covered arm and gold wrought chain that was slowly stealing the warmth from his hand.
How could he do these things?
Walk sedately like some empty headed showpiece, his eyes jumping from one overly scrubbed space on the floor to another in a vain attempt to avoid the contrast of ink black robes against shining white and gold?
Ignore the sickening stench that was a mix of Nazgul decay, Orc filth, and salty fear, all layered on top of lye tainted copper?
Try to stop from dry heaving at the taste in his mouth left over from Sauron's kisses?
Why didn't he just take the glided chain and strangle the Dark Lord?
"Because the Nazgul behind us would strike you down, I would change my mind about when to have you the first time and convince myself you look lovely enough in your loved ones blood to have you dressed in nothing but that from this day forth."
Legolas started, how had he?
His eyes jumped from the floor to One Ring settled on Sauron's finger.
Oh Valar save me, are even my thoughts not my own?
The monster, this, this thing…
He had not even changed their sedate pace as he threatened to rape Legolas in front of an audience. Add to that the abomination of magic on his finger…
His father had only cursed the other Elvin realms when asked about the last age or his Grandfather's death, while Elrond had been reticent in explaining how the ring was so powerful as to cow nearly all of Middle Earth, the entire subject seeming a hard one for the Lord. The council was the first time Legolas had EVER heard so much about the forging of the Rings of Power and the war against Sauron. While his lover was an incredible healer and leader-
'Princeling, I will not take lightly any further enumerations of Elrond's prowess at anything.' His gaze went to the Dark Lord's eyes before quickly dropping again. 'I find it incomprehensible how you truly did not know that your thoughts are easy prey to my ring. How sad that Elrond and those others who once faced my ring's power saw fit to not disclose its nature.' The Dark Lord spoke Legolas's own tongue as he said this and it took him a moment to figure out why.
"You must fear the ring's n-" Sauron grasped his chin with his free hand and twisted his head until their eyes met.
'As you shall soon see, my pet, I fear nothing.'
You fear your other slaves understanding that their thoughts and actions are no longer their own, rang through Legolas's mind before he could stop it.
The Dark Lord halted their progress down the corridor and dropped his arm; Legolas barely had time to feel this before Sauron wrapped his arms around Legolas's waist and pulled him tightly against the Dark Lord.
'You, my pet, have yet again showed an odd lack of care for the well being of those under my care. Do not speak excuses, anything but obedience to my wishes will have consequences, for you will know your place.'
Legolas bit his tongue to stop the begging words that ached to come from his mouth. Who would die this eve from his foolishness?
Aragorn?
Arwen?
The twins?
Had enough time passed that any of his family had arrived for Sauron to slaughter?
He doubted though, that Sauron would kill Elrond for this. He seemed so obsessed with his lover that-
Legolas blinked back the stars and darkness that danced across his vision from his head's sudden impact with the wall to meet Sauron's burning red eyes.
'As I told you, you are mine. He is not even worthy of being the floor I walk upon let alone the focus of any obsession. But apparently he means more to you than any other; as such their safety seems to mean little to you. From each day hence you calling any but me lover will cause the removal of a piece of Elrond's body before your eyes until I finally sever that which you believe joins him to you.'
How could this be HAPPENING!?
Legolas could only hang against the wall as Sauron stared down at him. 'You understand don't you? For I know tonight's lesson will be painful and would hate for you to go through it again.'
Legolas started to glare, but caught himself just in time and managed to nod his head, ignoring the waves of nausea it sent over him.
'Good, my pet…' Legolas was gently let off the wall and cradled in the Dark Lord's embrace.
'The wound is not bleeding, do you think it will heal quickly? I would hate for you to pass out in the middle of the eve's entertainment.' He crooned softly while lightly tracing his fingers through the twists of Legolas's hair over the back of his skull.
"If it is your desire, then I shall be at your side, conscious to the last," Legolas whispered, barely able to keep the loathing from his voice.
'I was planning to place you at the foot of my throne, but perhaps I shall have you on my lap?'
"It would be more comfortable," slipped through grit teeth.
"Let us continue," he smiled as Legolas fought a wave of dizziness, leaning more into the Dark Lord's arm around his waist to keep upright.
Sauron guided his pet and the trailing Lords down the last corridor to the shut, highly glided doors that lead to the throne room.
There Sauron turned to his pet, twitched a few strands of hair into place and traced the collar at his throat tenderly.
'Head high my pet, let us make this a grand show, shall we?'
"As you wish." Legolas stepped from the Dark Lords embrace placing his hand on the offered arm, Sauron reached over and clasped the chain with his free hand, bringing it to drape over the pale hand once again placed on his arm. The two turned to the doors and Legolas swallowed as he raised his head, trying to adopt the proud demeanor he had seen so often in his father and brothers. At some unseen signal the Uruk-hai at the doors swung them open and a loud, clear voice that Legolas achingly recognized as being human rang over the room announcing the arrival of the High King.
Galadriel's mind flowed through the crowd of fools before her as she stood sedately by the dais.
Her impassive face hiding not just her own secrets but the visions that unfurled at every word and gesture around her. No longer haphazard glimpses confined to the still waters of her mirror, her power had grown to be such that she no longer needed the tools to see what was and is and far more precious what would be. All was laid before her like the offering the Dark Lord would lay at her feet this night.
The proclamation that any persons who were fool enough to enter her realm would be her property.
He would order the removal of the stain of Kin-Slayer that haunted her steps to this day outside the safety of her forest, and give to her what remained of her own kin.
Elohir and Elladan.
Her Grandsons.
Her heirs.
Finally to be given to her care so that she could mold them away from Elrond's influence. While the ties she had forged by marrying of Celebrin (Spelling?) to him had never truly been broken by the half Elvin fool, there had always been something about him that she had not liked. Her suspicions proving true when Elrond allowed her daughter's spirit to be ravaged to the point where she went west then completely mishandled her children.
Letting the boys become lost in the hunt of Orcs. They were to be the leaders of this world when Galadriel regained her right to sail, not more mindless soldiers.
And Arwen, flitting about Middle Earth with no thought to her reputation and consorting with that, that, human… Well, despite taking after her mother in appearance her demeanor was too much her father's for her to truly come to heel. She only hoped something useful of her granddaughter survived what was in store for her these coming years.
Her Grandsons, now they had bright shining futures where they would be beacons for her race.
The hordes of dwarfish prisoners and the piles of diamonds and mithril Sauron would present to her as well would be pittance in comparison.
All in all, well worth the blood of her faithless husband and the elves so under his sway as to not recognize how better things would be with the likes of her and her King at the helm of the future.
Denethor waited with anticipation eating out his insides as he sipped on fine wines and ate the delicacies from the silver and gold trays carried around by elves.
This King…
This King was one that Denethor ached to see with his own eyes and not just the image in his mind that he knew to be true, that the Wizard Saruman and the Wood Witch had shown several of the True leaders of Men.
Not the fabled Heir of Isildor or those other worldly and high and mighty elves, he and his Boromir were finally stewards to a King worthy of the throne of Gondor.
One who would care for the war ravaged people, not raised by foolish, head in the clouds and up their God's ass's elves.
Who he took great pleasure in having at his whim and mercy.
He could not help but marvel at how well the race performed as servants. Their grace and elegance making them flit through the crowd without causing a disturbance while their beauty, even if marred by a bruise or gash here and there, added to the scenery.
All those foolish, stupid elves.
Far too pathetic, not knowing when to bow down to obviously superior forces and strike what deals they could.
The days of those pompous elves speaking of their high blood lines and the King of Men that Denethor's ancestors had toiled away to make themselves feel worthy of were over.
Never in all the rest of the Days of Middle Earth would Denethor or his precious, precious son, bow to a throne of memories again. They would embrace this future, their true King, Sauron.
And the fools who remained stuck in the dead dreams of the past, who would stand in the way of Gondor's progress and power, well, their King had them stuck to the walls. Denethor couldn't help but laugh out loud, uncaring of the small clearing that formed around him.
Oretin, Son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood stared around the room, felt something pressing at the back of his mind.
It was not such an obvious thing as to bring about worry, but every now and he would find it drawing his attention away from whomever he was speaking with.
Oretin was used to these feelings, he had after all, learned his Father's lessons on reading a situation exceptionally well and knew when something was not quite right.
But as he stood in the midst of the throng he could not pin down exactly why he was getting this feeling now.
He was being treated with the proper respect due to a Prince of Mirkwood.
These people, while most not usually worthy of his presence much less his attention, were educated enough to be mildly entertaining evening companions but still stupid enough to be lead around by someone of his intellect.
The Bastard Elrond was finally being put in his place, finally being forced to kneel to someone else and be thought of as a nonentity barely worthy of recognition.
And it wasn't as if those Noldor and other High Elves had ever cared a whit about any of Oropher's line or the kingdom they had built around them in Greenwood, so why by the Valar, should he care about the ashen remains of Rivendell?
But still something sat wrong with him about these proceedings. The servants seemed a little haggard but they had just gone through a drastic change in leadership and undoubtedly Sauron was a far sterner task master than Elrond had been. From what his father had told him the last homely house was barely more than a hovel of a castle, with even the lowliest of servants more inclined to composing sonnets or wandering in the gardens than to performing tasks necessary to the upkeep of a castle and their Lord inclined to let them waste their time on such pursuits.
The Elves chained to the wall were not something he wholly approved of, yet to Sauron, perhaps they were no more then jewels were to his father? Spoils of a hard fought victory?
He was willing to understand that as well given that his Lord had just spent ages in a war against them, even driven out of his body for an age. He was bound to want retribution, and it was not something that he could hardly argue against given that he would have all the vile Orcs and Wraith and Spiders that threatened his home treated much the same way.
So why do you bow to their Master, if you would see the servants dead?
Because they are the ones attacking my people, with Sauron here they will cease their mindless pursuits against our Kingdom.
Are you so sure? He killed Grandfather!
Yes! But that was because Greenwood had foolishly followed Gil-Galad into a battle not their own. It had been war! He could not be blamed for his crimes.
So why are the elves chained to the walls any different?
Shut up! Elrond and every one of the fools who followed him deserved what they got. It was their own fault for swearing loyalty to such a – Eyes the color of his Father's most precious emeralds glared at him as he crumpled the wrongly delivered note tighter in his fist.
'You are being a fool, little brother! To think any declaration that fool Elrond makes is honest! That half elf is only using you! Abusing your innocence and kindness to hurt our kingdom! When Father learns of thi-'
'Please Oretin! I beg you do not tell him! He would never understand!'
'With good reason! You are but a child Legolas!'
'I know enough to know that I love him, Oretin! As he loves me!'
'Do you really think that Perehindil will remain true? Loyal? To him your light is just a passing fantasy, a way to pass time and gain information on Greenwood until the next child catches his eye!'
Brilliant eyes glittered and Oretin was filled with more rage towards the Lord of Imladris then he had ever known was possible. How dare that bastard do this to his precious little brother?
'Even, even if it is just a passing fancy for him, which I refuse to believe is truth, then as long as he shows even the slightest interest I will be beside him, and after he is through with me I will still love him, and be loyal to him for all the joy and strength and knowledge he has given me.'
LEGOLAS!! How could he have - - oh Valar where was Legolas? He had been here when the attack happened and it was inconceivable that Legolas would not have taken up arms against the threat of the Dark Lord. He quickly moved from the group he was making small talk with, placing his slender goblet on a serving tray he glanced around the room, checking every Elvin face, shoving through the crowd and grabbing at servers to check their downcast and beaten faces.
If Legolas was in that condition…
"My Lord!" Several of his advisors scrambled after him, Alfesa actually going so far as to grab his shoulder. In the blink of an eye the older elf was on the floor and Oretin strode towards the dais where Elrond had been forced to his knees. If any being in this room knew what had happened to his little brother on the day of the attack it would be the Lord of this valley.
His little brother's lover.
He had nearly reached the dais's honor guard when a shout sounded from the back of the room. Oretin spun to see the doors at the back of the throne room open and his breath caught.
There shining in gold on the arm of the Dark Lord, was his Legolas.
A rage that left him strangely calm took over his heart as he watched Legolas glide down the newly formed isle in the center of the room next to that seething mass of darkness wrapped in Elvin form. He looked at Legolas with eyes long accustomed to figuring out problems behind all the facades and false assurances that his little brother could erect.
The clothes bore slight creases in the back, and his little brother's hair had only been that elaborate two times since he had grown old enough to do it himself and even then he certainly forwent any sort of adornment besides his coronet. It was also slightly mussed and pressed flat in the back.
He saw the physical pain lurking around the edges of his brother's face, the tenseness of stiff, sore muscles, and the absolute terror lurking in the depths of his eyes. Somehow Legolas had been able to keep his mind free of the ring, and he had no wish to be draped like an ornament on the Dark Lord's arm. Oretin knew without a doubt that his little brother would rather be chained to the floor near his lover.
Oretin finally noticed the slim golden chain leading from the Dark Lord's hand to an elaborate collar on Legolas's neck. He could barely see the shape of writing etched into the thick gold, but to his dismay the words emanated a sickly green glow as he tried to read, obscuring the details and stripping away any chance he had to comprehend them.
Legolas seemed to do nothing but stare straight ahead, head held high with an air of pride that Oretin knew was a show, his little brother had as much pride as the rest of the family, but his was a quiet air of confidence and surety. This thing that Sauron was forcing his brother into being was more of an abomination than even the Dark Lord himself was.
It took everything he had not to leap forward and try to strangle the false elf. That would not work, what with all the others as enthralled as he had been just a few moments ago.
He would have to do something else.
And he would do something.
Even though his powers were weak without Vilya, he could hear many things.
The room was alive with thoughts. Most were centered on the Dark Lord, although a fair portion were of the golden beauty on his arm.
The beauty that Oretin's thoughts confirmed as his Legolas.
Confirmed the pain and the unwillingness masked as pride and joy in his new position.
Elrond didn't want Legolas on the arm of that monster.
But he did want to see his love.
The many things that had been rolling through his mind to tell his love if he ever got the chance all pushed forward at once.
He wanted to tell Legolas he loved him.
To never give into the Darkness.
To give in so that he would be safe.
That he loved him, no matter what.
But he knew any words he uttered would be taken to heart by the Mirkwood Prince, and Elrond couldn't stand to see the pain that his love was feeling worsen.
Because he also knew that no matter what he said, Legolas would continue to do what he was doing in order to assure that those he loved would survive this nightmare as unscathed as possible.
Elrond's breath was punched out of him as a black and gold vision nearly floated in front of him. His Legolas was breath taking in anything. Even as he was draped across the Dark Lord's lap, hair and limbs unnecessarily ornamented in gems and metals, head held high and neck just a little tense and eyes resolutely avoiding him, Legolas was all he could focus on in the dark world that had taken over his valley.
"My guests, I hope that you enjoy this evening, and that as you join me in celebrating our victory you will enjoy the fruits of your labors."
The crowd behind Elrond cheered and the Dark Lord glanced at Elrond with an evil smirk before his hand left the arm of the throne to tangle in tangle in the gilt laden golden hair draped along his shoulder and arm. The slim pale hand tightened in the strands and used them to pull Legolas's head up and back, unbalancing the precariously placed elf. Legolas's eyes flew around a short moment, meeting his gaze and freezing there, before closing in what Elrond recognized was despair as the Dark Lord's lips closed around his lovers.
The red eyes that met his then were the flaming as they laughed at him, gloating over his success and Elrond's fists tightened in their bindings. The Dark Lord closed his eyes, pulling tighter on Legolas's hair so the Prince had to tilt his head backwards at an extremely uncomfortable angle that showcased Legolas's graceful neck in such a way that made Elrond's breath catch despite the situation.