Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Stolen	By : squirrelchaser Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 13305 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Stolen
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-eight
- 9-nine
- 10-ten
- 11-11
- 1
- 2
Title: Stolen
Author: Squirrelchaser
Pairing:
Legolas/Sauron; Legolas/Glorfindel
Warnings: Angst,
death, slash, Mpreg, non con,
AU. All the good stuff. Rated NC-17.
Summary: Legolas is
taken from Mirkwood and is forced into the world of adulthood. �This was what
it came down to, everything that had been my adult life narrowing down to a one
on one battle, a sharp point in time which pushed painfully into my heart.�
Disclaimer: The
characters are stolen from Tolkien who owns
everything. Seriously, would I write this if I had actually done the real
thing?

~Many thanks to my patient beta readers: Tallulah,
Antoinette, Neldluva, and Slim~
Stolen
I
never had a naneth [mother] to tell me stories, or a naneth at all, but Adar
[father] more than made up for that.
�Legolas,
come and sit with me,� he would call, and eagerly I would run and climb into
his lap where we would spin stories about monsters and goblins seemingly out of
the air. But when things got too scary he would stop and make up an ending that
would make us both laugh.
That
was before.
The
end came one night when the trees were murmuring to each other in the summer
breezes and the stars shined gladly down on my kin. Then the wind changed,
blowing up from the South instead of the North. Adar stopped singing abruptly,
and sitting in his lap I felt him grow tense and stiffen.
The
other adults stopped too and turned their faces toward Southern Mirkwood, where the shadows had turned dark and frightening
and where the trees whispered of evil.
Alindel, Adar�s friend and advisor of many
centuries, leaned toward the chair. I was not supposed to hear what he said,
but heard it nonetheless: �They are coming.�
�Hush,�
Adar murmured back, and began to stroke my hair.
Later
I found out that they were coming for us. In the previous spring Adar tried to
send me to Imladris, but we were cut off before
leaving our realm and barely escaped back into the safety of Northern Mirkwood. No messengers or plea for aid had ever
made their way out of the wood, and the darkness was rapidly spiraling in.
�Legolas
go with the others in the mountain,� Adar said calmly, and though he smiled
there was worry behind his eyes. �Go,� he repeated when I hesitated. �Do as I
say.�
The
ones too young to fight were quickly sent into the mountain behind the safety
of the great magic doors. Before we could be shut away, I saw the armor and the
swords being brought out and the anxiety beneath the light hearted jokes of the
warriors.
There
were too many of them. At the very end Adar bid me to flee when the fortress
was stormed, though we both knew there was nowhere left to go and it would be
in vain.
I
ran as he held the door, but they caught the both of us once our friends and
those loyal to us were slain or too wounded to fight any longer. At dawn the next
day we were the only elves left alive in Mirkwood, and our captors bound us and
took us before their Lord.
He
was dark haired and ethereal, neither man nor elf, nor dwarf nor any race that
roamed Middle-earth, as cool as a sword blade and just as hard. He was taller
than any I had seen before and would have been more beautiful than the stars at
night but for the evil that he emanated; it erased any pretense of loveliness
about him. He was robed in black and looped with fine strands of mithril, as were the chambers of his fortress which were
lit dimly with flickering torches so the light jumped then dwindled, then flared. He stood towering, proud, and terrible, a sharp
contrast to the cringing and sniveling orcs who did
his bidding.
I
was too tired to struggle against my bonds. Adar and I were lowered side by
side to the cold black marble floor before him. I fixed my eyes on the traces
of white that wove through the burnished stone, following the abstract pattern
to the hem of the Dark Lord�s robe that was crumpled at the floor where he sat.
There was a waver of movement behind me and Adar gasped as his gag was untied.
�What
do you want of us?� he demanded, voice low and
trembling like the flame of a candle caught in the wind.
The
hem of the robe lifted and skimmed the floor as the Lord stood from his chair
and came toward us.
�Leave
us,� he said to the orcs. His voice was smooth and
cool with a dangerous warning, like the edge of a knife. �The royalty out of
Mirkwood,� he said softly, but there was no mocking in his tone.
I
finally lifted my eyes and saw that one of his long hands tilted Adar�s face up. Adar was rigid with anger from his crouch
on the floor. There were red marks around Adar�s face
where the gag had cut into his skin, and his eyes were glittering.
�Sauron,� he hissed.
�Yes.�
The Lord was studying his face in the same way one studies the body of a horse:
shrewdly, critically, and void of any emotional judgment. �You are strong. You
shall be hard to break.�
Adar
glared. He was working frantically with his magic, the same magic that had
protected us for so long in Mirkwood, but something about the dark fortress we
were taken in rendered it nil. I could feel it settling about him and me,
clinging to us like a flimsy shroud when what he wanted it to be was a coating
of armor.
There
was a darker magic spell that the Dark Lord was casting, focused on Adar. I did
not understand it, but perhaps it was not taking effect the way Sauron wanted
for he lifted Adar from the floor with one arm and swept him off across the
great chamber.
I
let out as loud a protest as I could muster through my gag. I did not want to
be left alone on the floor in case the orcs came back,
nor did I want Adar to be taken away by this frightening sorcerer.
The
Dark Lord did not look back or give any indication that he had heard, but Adar
lifted his head, an empty gaze fixed on me until he was taken away down a dark
passage. He did not say a thing, and his eyes had gone glassy. I think it was because
of the dark magic.
Adar
was gone and now I was alone and now I was frightened. I pressed my face into
the cold smoothness below my cheek and squeezed my eyes shut. Perhaps, if I
closed them tight and wished hard enough, this all to be a terrible dream and
when I opened my eyes again we would be home and safe in Mirkwood.
But
only the dim black chamber with orange light flickering across the floor
reappeared slowly as I cracked my eyelids open. I whimpered and rolled onto my
side, wishing that I could move to my back but my arms bound behind me
prevented me from doing this.
I
had no choice but to wait here until Adar came back to me.
Yes.
Adar would come back for me. I closed my eyes and let my mind go.
Sleep
was dreamless and brief, as I awoke to someone shaking my shoulder. It was a
woman with thin lips and wide eyes, and long hair bound up in a braid coiled in
a knot at the base of her head. She wore a long grey robe made of a thin, worn
material, and a white apron was knotted about her waist. Once she saw that I
was awake she lifted me to my feet, removed my gag, and cut the ties on my
wrists and ankles.
A
glance at the door told me that a run for freedom was out of the question;
there were orcs outside the doorway and they were
leering unpleasantly us.
She
motioned for me to rise and I did so, stiffly. I was lead through the same door
Adar had disappeared to, down a long hall of the same shiny black marble with
flickering torches. The only sound was her footsteps echoing through the
corridor as I padded silently behind.
Ahead
the hall took a sharp turn to the left and I could not see what was around the
corner. Before we reached that turn however she stopped, opened a door, and
motioned me inside. The woman, whom must be some sort of servant or maid to the
Dark Lord, had not looked me in the eyes until she closed the door. I think
there was pity in them but the door was shut too quickly for me to be sure.
I
hesitated, afraid to venture forward and see what the new room held in store
for me.
There
was a great bed, with blood red curtains drawn closed about it. The only light
in the room was from a great circular dish that sat on a stand on the floor at
the foot of the bed, the flames dancing high from their basin.
Was
I to sleep in such a room? And why would they give so luxurious a room to a prisoner;
surely they would have us away in a dungeon or such? Tentatively I crept toward
the bed, curled my fingers about a soft red fold, and froze.
This
was a strange, frightening place. I did not want to draw that curtain back and
find out what was on the other side lest I should find strange and frightening
things. Steadying myself I pulled, and let out a cry as the bed was brought
into sight.
It
was Adar! He lay asleep in the bed, the blankets pulled up to his bare chest
and one hand resting atop.
�Adar!� I whispered, springing up onto the bed and curling up beside
him. I lay my head beside his on the pillow. �Adar,� I said again, whispering
into his ear. �What is happening?�
He
did not move, nor open his eyes.
Tentatively
I laced one of my small hands with his where it rested on his chest. There was
no rising and falling, no comforting sound of a heartbeat which used to lull me
to sleep.
My
insides turned to ice, going so cold I could not cry, or even think. I lay
beside him clutching his hand, numb, dumbfounded, and feeling utterly lost.
The
door opened and the Dark Lord entered. He stood before the bed silently,
offering no explanation.
�What
have you done to him?� came my words, the childish
voice sounded limp and unimposing to even my ears.
�Elian
said you would need to say good-bye,� he simply said in a smooth, deep voice
that slid over one�s ears like a well told lie. �It is finished, young one, and
there is nothing that can be done. Now you must come with me.� He turned toward
the door, my question clearly ignored.
Letting
out a whimper I curled tighter against Adar�s body.
The
Dark Lord stood in the doorway, back to me, and said, �He will not be thrown to
the orcs to be ravished, if that puts any comfort in
your mind. You must come with me. I do not want to force you.�
Would
he force me? After a long pause I decided he would so I rolled off the bed,
slid to the floor, and followed him out the door as something wrenched at my
heart. I kept my eyes on the back of his robe, downcast, as we wound through
the dark passages of his fortress.
Down
a long hall, turn, down a flight of wide shallow stairs, turn, door, another
long hallway, door.
�Here
is where you shall stay.�
I
lifted my gaze, eyes smarting with tears.
It
was a bedroom, with polished wooden furniture and decorated in soft greens and
browns that reminded me of home. There was a fireplace in one corner, across
from the bed, and another door opposite to the door I had just entered.
�Undress,�
came the command in a simple tone.
I
swiped the back of my hand across my eyes to smear away the unshed tears and
gaped at him, not understanding.
�Undress,
and climb into bed.�
Slowly,
I shook my head.
He
eyed me coolly. �It is for your own good, young one. If you do not, I can
promise you great discomfort when you awake.�
I
continued to stare at him.
�Very
well, as you wish. I shall return.� Sauron strode briskly from the room, making
no noise as he left.
What
did he have in store for me? I wondered, wandering slowly over to the bed and
sitting on it. And what should I do?
TBC
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