Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

To Resist both Wind and Tide	By : narcolinde Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4412 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do nto own Lord of the Rings and no money is made from this story, just fro fun.Characters and settings created by JRR Tolkien.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
*****NOTE***** This is a pretty rough read, so be warned we learn what happened to Legolas in Dol Guldur.

Chapter Ten: Listen

When he found the elf, alive and whole, Aragorn experienced such a flood of relief and joy the sensation made him giddy.

He had been three days searching, journeying blind, having discovered an elvish horse left as little trail as the elf guiding her, heading always north and west toward Anduin. Three days imagining Legolas dead, plagued by gruesome images of coming upon the remains, dismembered, half-eaten, the beautiful head severed from the body and disfigured, eye-less, stuck on a pike stabbed down in the earth. When he wasn't seeing those visions, he imagined Legolas captured as he tried to make it past Dol Guldur, returned to the tortures and torments of the Wraiths, where the gift of immortal life became a curse of such proportions his heart quailed to think about it. There were accounts of elves taken captive to Angband when it was newly delved who were still there when the Valar broke the prison open at the end of the First Age, though to call them elves at that point was perhaps optimistic.

The fourth day Aragorn saw Legolas waiting, he and Tuilelindô a pair of dark silhouettes against the western sky. He urged Azrubêl for speed and the closer they came, the more poignant was Legolas' motionless anticipation. Had he been waiting a day? More? Seeing him there, standing beside the mare in that mud-spattered cape and little else, unhurt, uncertain, and unbearably alone had broken the man's heart open. There was no longer any point in pretending his sentiments were superficial and he could only assume this was because of the exchange of light that had been taking place since the very beginning. How else to explain it? He still knew little more than the elf's name.

Legolas did not come running to him this time. He waited, utterly still and silent, alternately radiating irrepressible hope and resigned despondency. It was painfully obvious Legolas had been found only because he wanted to be found, needed to be found, and that this was both difficult for him to accept and impossible to deny, but Aragorn did not care. He would remove those doubts and fears. He wanted to whoop for joy, scold the elf until his ears went deaf, tumble him into the grass and make him shriek with wild abandon, gather him up and never let go. What this indicated for the archer's eternal spirit would just have to be made bearable.

There must be a way.

His mind churned even as he slid to the ground and ran to Legolas, snatching him up and pulling him in hard, demanding a kiss that was nearly suffocating in its intensity. He parted from him reluctantly, taking several smaller tastes of the sensuous mouth, the strong jaw, the sun-burned nose, hands winnowing the flaxen mane, feeling Legolas doing the same to him, the touch of his lips upon cheek and neck and chin electric.

"Don't run from me again, Legolas; I beg you will not. You know I am going to follow, so spare the horses, and my heart, the strain," he said, hands firmly bracketed round that fair face, searching blue eyes swirling with doubt then love, with hope and then shame. That gave his heart a jolt and questions flooded his thoughts but he stifled them, drew Legolas tight against his chest, locked protective arms around the sturdy shoulders. A weary sigh sounded and the archer leaned into him, settled his hands lightly at the man's waist.

"I know it now," he murmured. His fingers clasped convulsively at the fabric beneath them. "I will forgive you for naming me a traitor if you will forgive me for putting a knife to your throat."

"Agreed," Aragorn smiled and ran his hand under the cape to caress the bare back. The lean frame shivered and his desire awakened. "I want you," he whispered.

"I am yours," Legolas answered, already unbuckling the heavy sword and casting it away.

He thought the man would take him hard and fast and was ready, even eager for it, but instead Aragorn let him go and went to the horse, gathered bedding and blankets and spread them neatly on the ground. He watched all this, bemused, but when Aragorn came back and took his hand, bent to kiss him softly, led him there with shining eyes, it almost brought Legolas to tears.

They knelt facing each other and Aragorn stripped the elf, a procedure requiring mere seconds, and so he had ample opportunity to savour the naked figure, tasting and touching the familiar flesh, while Legolas did the same for him. When both were nude, their mutual desire exposed, then Aragorn laid the elf down and bent over the red erection. He'd done this for him the night in the meadow and Legolas had come verily unhinged. It was no different now and Aragorn relished the ellon's wanton moans, the way he squirmed and wriggled, the way his fingers tangled in his hair and held on as though to life itself. Legolas was not quiet in ecstasy and Aragorn consumed its bitter essence, wondering how so sweet an experience could yield such unpalatable fluid. The lax penis slipped from his lips as Legolas rolled onto hands and knees and submitted himself; Aragorn mounted without hesitation.

The dry penetration made the elf swallow a groan and the weight of the man made him rigid at first, but by the third thrust he was moving with the potent rhythm and the cries wrung from him were all of pleasure. Aragorn rode him in long lunges, grasping tight to angular hips, watching the supple back flex. He reached out and trailed his fingertip lightly down the groove and grinned when this raised a jerky shudder and a strangled exclamation in the sylvan tongue. A quick flash of huge blue eyes caught him for an instant as the archer peered over his shoulder.

He shifted his position slightly and suddenly the friction round his cock tightened. The next thrust had Aragorn wailing and he lost all rational thought after that, pumping with vigourous abandon against the increased resistance. He spilled calling Legolas' name and paused as the rush simultaneously flayed his soul and filled his heart. Soft and sated, he pulled out to lie beside the archer. They lay thus, face to face, flushed and panting and surrounded by the endless expanse of emerald grass, peaceful in the warm glow of the bond.

"Aragorn."

"Legolas."

They smiled in unison and Aragorn touched the high, blushed cheek, for there was a faint trace of dampness there.

"From happiness, I hope," he said quietly.

"Aye, you know it is so."

"You are not my lover, Legolas."

"No," he smiled faintly, shook his head. "I'm just yours."

"Not just, do not say just," Aragorn tapped his finger against the crimson lips, but his gaze was on the archer's eyes.

"It is the truth. What else should I say?"

"That you are my mate, the other half of my soul. That is the truth."

"Yes." Legolas agreed, pleased the man understood. "I will be a loyal mate, steadfast, and remain at your side until you no longer need me." He had not meant to become morbid, but saying the words made him see it, the moment when Aragorn would send him away, and Legolas could not prevent the stab of pain that gave him nor hide it from the man.

"How could I not need you? Nay, I would never leave you if it were possible, but I am mortal," Aragorn said, shuffling closer to kiss the elf and hold him. Legolas was trembling. "I am sorry; I would not have you suffer. The idea is unbearable. I tried not to love you, Legolas, and this is why."

"Aye, you resisted, but I knew you were the one. The choice was mine to make and I chose you." Legolas rolled him over and stretched himself out atop the virile body, sighing with delight, and settled his head near the man's ear. "Let us make a pact now not to dwell on what must be someday. Our time is short and I would spend it in joy. Sorrow will come in its own time, so why invite it into our lives?"

"Wise words," answered Aragorn, knowing full well that sorrow was already Legolas' constant companion. And he could not help but wonder why Legolas would choose him, knowing this parting awaited them. The answer would change nothing; it was done and could not be undone. "So be it; we will not give our attention to it." He shifted his head and tucked a finger beneath the archer's chin, raising it so to see his eyes, smiled at the happiness there, and gave him a quick, loud kiss on the lips.

Legolas laughed and rolled off him, sprawled out on his back and stretched, arms extended, fingers locked and toes pointed; his spine arched and cracked as a thin moan of exultation squeezed out of his compressed lips. He relaxed and gazed up into the clear skies, listened to the sounds of the empty plains. Immediately the man distracted him from these observations, scrambling closer, half sitting as he propped up his bulk with one arm and lapped at the nearest nipple, then its twin, and then bit the tender flesh. Legolas let him, basking in the adoration, and gave in to the sensations so that his body and what the man was doing to it were all he knew.

Rough fingers stroked his belly and a soft tongue followed, laving a wet trail and dipping into his navel. Lips peppered his sides with delicate pressure, then incisors nibbled down his thighs and calves. Hands parted his legs and the teeth reversed course, nipping back and forth from one leg to the other, higher and higher until he felt hot breath on his scrotum and the bridge of the man's nose nudged at the pouch. He lay absolutely still, panting out soft moans he could not hear, spread his legs and bent the knees. He was erect, the hardness a deep throbbing ache. The tongue swabbed over the tender skin of the sac, the teeth tested its resilience, then the heat of the whole mouth enveloped him. Exquisite fire seared him. Fingers tweaked a nipple and he jerked in surprise, groaned when he was let go too soon, miserable as all contact ceased.

He opened eyes he hadn't realised were closed and saw Aragorn watching him intently, desire burning in the grey depths. He moved closer, kissed him deeply as he settled between the up-drawn knees and entered him. The thick flesh slid in easily through the slick coating of spent seed there and their bodies connected with a satisfying slap. Aragorn rocked back and rammed him again, broke off the kiss to mark his neck, retreated and advanced anew, driving harder.

He raised himself up on his arms and locked eyes with the elf's, felt his heart swell with a great bubble of exultation to see the expression of erotic anguish in them. Thighs pressed in at his waist, the muscles taut and straining, a hand snatched at his back. He grunted softly, peered down between them where they were joined; it was so good. His pace quickened and Legolas rose to meet him with every thrust and now they were both lost in the pleasure of the motion, concerted in their need to achieve release, just as delighted to let it take forever to reach that moment. When it arrived, they spent together quietly, their cries subdued, and collapsed into a wilted tangle of limbs and golden hair, breathing deeply of each other's contentment.

"Besnô," whispered Legolas. Half squashed beneath the man, he struggled to lift a lethargic hand and settle it against Aragorn's neck.

"Another name? I am no longer your hero, melethen?" (my love)

"You are, but now you are much more. You would say 'hervenn' in Imladris."

"Husband," Aragorn smiled and kissed the salty skin of the arm draped nearest his lips. He gave a soft laugh. "This name gives me joy."

"More than any other?"

"Aye, none so sweet to hear as this."

"Ai Valar," Legolas snorted, pretending mockery of the romantic sentiment, but it pleased him. "Why so many? It seems that you want to hide your true self."

"True enough, a consequence of my forebear's notoriety. My father was killed because of it and my mother feared the same fate for me. She insisted the name be hidden and Lord Elrond agreed, but only until I reached majority. I have been collecting names ever since."

"Your father was killed?" Legolas shifted until he could see the man's face. "That is terrible! When? Who is this forebear?"

"I was but a small child then. Legolas, you said you knew," Aragorn peered at him and saw that he truly did not. He groaned and sat up, helping Legolas up, too.

"How would I know this? I just met you."

"You said Mithrandir told you."

"He told me that a noble man would fall prey to evil in Baran Dalf, that this man would be able to heal me if I could save him. I waited; you came."

"Elbereth," Aragorn frowned and shook his head. "Wizards, and that one in particular, tend to leave out some of the important details when they issue their pronouncements and make their plans."

"So then who are you? Is it really so horrible?"

"Bad enough," he complained, but there was no getting around it. The elf would find out sooner or later. "Isildur's heir."

"Ah." Legolas brows rose high and then he frowned. This only reinforced the unpleasant fact that Aragorn would not be his for very long. Prophesies abounded and the Wood Elves were not ignorant of them; here was a lineage that must not be lost. Aragorn might even be this promised saviour. He was not thinking of that now, though, and the archer could see his fear to be judged by Isildur's mistakes. He bent near and examined the face before him carefully, bored deep inside the mind behind the worried grey eyes, swept his awareness through that part of the man's soul he had taken to bolster his own. Then he shrugged and lay back on the blanket, pillowed his head on his arms. "I don't see it."

"What does that mean?" Aragorn was caught between relief that Legolas didn't care and concern that he might not seem a worthy representative of the Kings of old.

"It means your soul is not touched by the same flaws Isildur owned. He was a brave man, anyway, and a strong leader. His great deeds are forgotten now, erased by that one error. Why? They were great deeds, were they not? Few, be they human or elf-kind, could resist once in the very grip of such evil as Isildur held. But you seem more like his father Elendil."

"You knew him?" Aragorn was pleased with this reply and pulled Legolas back up to face him, excited to learn more of the hero of the Last Alliance, for this is what he hoped in his most secret heart: that he was like Elendil.

"No! Valar, that was long before my time. Do I look so old?" Legolas laughed, but it was cut off in an instant, replaced by a wild-eyed look of horror and he turned away. "Nay, do not answer!"

He was revolted, seeing himself as Aragorn must: his spirit diminished, his heart riven, his very person marked by the darkness in which he'd been immersed and immured. So viscid was that black terror that his own light smothered and the memory of it blotted out the beauty of the union just shared. He brought his hands before him, fully expecting to see stained, disfigured, and twisted claws and the air gushed from his lungs in his profound relief to see it wasn't so. He found himself shaking and could not stop. Strong arms encircled him and he went rigid within them, afraid to look the man in the face again.

"Legolas, do not despair," Aragorn demanded, alarmed by this abrupt shift in mood. "I don't care about your age; it means nothing for the First-born. You look young to my eyes melethen; be at peace." He had never heard of an elf being concerned about how old he looked and were Legolas not so distraught it might be amusing. Yet Legolas had been two years in Dol Guldur and the fear of what might result from such torments still preyed on his mind and heart. Had not Aragorn thought it, too? He gave the shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "You are not changed, Legolas; First-born you remain."

"Am I? But for Mithrandir's cleansing light I would be lost. He scoured me clean and left me a hollow husk." There was a gulping sigh and another shudder but it left the elf quieter when it passed.

"It cannot be doubted." The man found this description of the wizard's actions highly disturbing, but set it aside for later. "You killed the servants of Shadow to spare me. You gave of your eternal light and healed me. Orcs do not do these things, do they?" Aragorn smiled, catching the blue eye peering at him from its uttermost corner.

"No."

"Then there is no need to fear, melethen."

"No? What if there is an even worse fate. What if I am changing into a shade like the Nazgul."

"Mithrandir was satisfied to leave you to save me; does that sound as though he suspected your spirit is corrupt?"

"Nay." Legolas presented a worried, tentative smile.

"Nay." Aragorn grinned, glad this crisis was over. "Come then, tell me the awful truth." He pitched his tone to jest, but Legolas startled and gasped aloud.

"What?" He stared, eyes wide and wounded. "What truth?"

"Your age, Legolas," the man explained, regretting his attempt to make light of the matter, but kept the joking tone. "Are you so very ancient and august?" Aragorn squeezed tighter, shook him a bit, frantic to dispel this black despair, all the while worrying what Legolas would so fear to reveal.

"No, no, I am not." Legolas swallowed and let himself breathe. Perhaps it did not show after all. Perhaps he really could be healed and become as he had been. No. Perhaps it was possible to do evil and then do good after and be remembered for that, for the good. Perhaps. "I look normal to you?" Legolas dared a peak and found the man's bewilderment encouraging.

"Only if it is normal to be so exceptionally comely, which for you it is." He felt the stiff frame relax and heard a deep breath come and go. Legolas offered him a sheepish half-smile and shook his head. Aragorn returned the smile, but was not foolish enough to disregard the outburst, for Legolas was rapidly losing control. Whatever this malignant truth was, it was surfacing despite his efforts to hide it. "If you have need to speak, I will listen. Will you tell me?"

"My age?" Legolas dissembled, carefully extracting himself from the close embrace. "I thought it was not important, but if you must know I have lived to see fifty-two springs under the eaves of Greenwood."

"I never thought you'd be that young," Aragorn blurted out, letting Legolas have a little distance but re-establishing a firm hold on one arm. He did not want to have to chase him down again. "It makes sense to me now, why the King wouldn't let you go with the trading party. Feeling something was not right, he would not want to include someone so inexperienced in the group, so your brother went instead, Doronarth - Noble Oak. Oh!" He recalled suddenly why the ellon was familiar. "I know this name." The man looked upon the elf he'd taken for his mate in disbelieving wonder. Legolas was no mere woodland warrior.

"How so?"

"I recall he came to Imladris once, long ago when I was a boy. Lord Elrond called him Hîl od Oropher." (Heir of Oropher)

"Yes, he was that," Legolas murmured, "but I never thought of him that way; he was my brother. He died using his body to shield our Naneth. Would that it had not been so, but his spirit must be exalted in Námo's Halls."

"Aye, I am certain of it." Aragorn moved closer again and gently massaged Legolas' slumping shoulders.

"And our Nana will be there with him now." Will I be allowed to join them?

"You have lost so much so quickly, melethen. You are scarcely older than I and that in years only, for I have seen forty-nine springs."

"Only in years? That sounds somewhat condescending, echil. I am the one who saved your life, remember?" Legolas growled and moved away from the consoling touch, glad for the insult so he could feel anger instead of misery and guilt. He started to rummage amid the discarded clothes for his cloak. Aragorn stopped him.

"I will never forget and I did not mean to sound haughty. I am surprised, nothing more." Then he grimaced and shook his head. "That isn't entirely true; I am also deeply concerned. Where were your kin that they let you ride out alone seeking to avenge your mother and brother? It should not have been permitted."

"I was not a child then anymore than I am now," Legolas told him. "Who would stop me? Doronarth is dead, his family submerged in grief and impotent outrage. Can't you understand? They all know I would have gone with the trading party and wish Adar had not prevented it. Now it is too late. They look at me in dismay and disappointment, for how can I replace him?"

"Nay, surely not; this is sorrow speaking, meleth," Aragorn countered, but Legolas was not listening.

"Our Adar also was devastated and still is," Legolas continued. "Nor did I go alone, but that is all beside the point for I was charged to avenge her and make the Wraiths pay and these things I have done. That is why I must get home; my father awaits me there. I have a promise to fulfil, Aragorn, and I need you there to see it done. Say not that you will desert me now over this trifle."

"No, I would not desert you. How can you think it?" Aragorn was stunned. "But this is unconscionable. Who charged you with this impossible task?" It flashed through his mind that Legolas had gone into that hellacious place a warrior untried and untouched. He dragged him close, needing the security of the contact for it was suddenly all too real. He might have lost him so easily; he might as easily never have met him at all.

"My father could not go, though he tried. We had to confine him for he was blinded in his grief and rage. Greenwood needs him; while Thranduil rules she will never falter. There was no one else who could stand in his place and go after her. He was mad with sorrow; he has lost so much already." Legolas blinked back tears and crossed his arms over his heart.

"And would not wish to lose you, too," Aragorn reminded gently.

"Nay, that is not our way," Legolas said calmly, much comforted by the man's unfaltering support. "It was Ada who bestowed upon me the honour of this commission. No other could he trust to see it done."

"Ai, Legolas, that was truly madness," said Aragorn, both horrified and saddened for his beloved. "You said yourself none escape the Black Tower. But for Mithrandir's intervention, Thranduil would have lost you, too. How great his despair to learn you had gone, how desperate his remorse to have asked it! No wonder you are so anxious to get home."

"Nay, that isn't it," Legolas whispered. "You cannot see it; something this terrible, this cruel. I am glad you can't imagine it; I don't want you to." He wrapped his arms round the man's waist and clung tight. "Don't ask me anymore, please don't."

Aragorn complied, a chilling ache settling in his stomach, for he discovered he did not want to know the details of this unholy commission. It was clear anyway; Thranduil had not expected Legolas to return to him, had sent his young son to die a horrible and purposeless death. He held Legolas gently, stroked the golden mane, pressed consoling kisses against the bowed head, afraid to say anything more for already he began to suspect this truth was so unspeakable it would destroy the archer to admit it.

After a time, Legolas sang, the music so sombre and his lament so afflicted that Aragorn wept for him. The Song freed them both from the despair and melancholia and they discovered a fierce desire to rekindle the joy their union had granted them. Yet they coupled tenderly, respecting the fragility of life, the vagaries of fate that had brought them together, and celebrating the strength of the bond they shared. They passed the night peacefully, Legolas keeping watch over Aragorn as he slept.

**********************************************

The gifts from Rohan delighted Legolas, especially the bow, and he was beyond pleased to have decent garments, but made Aragorn swear they had not belonged to Ari before he donned them. They were over-big, being Bjorn's, and the boots were unusable, but the quiver held the shirt snug and the makeshift sword-belt did the same for the trousers. Legolas completed his toilet by clasping the cape about him as he had before. Arrows sprouted near his right shoulder and the bow was in his hand and now he looked like a warrior again instead of a beggar. Yet, he was not content, frowning down at his bare toes and the baggy trousers puddled atop them, and went to Aragorn's horse. There he reorganised the pack and thus freed two lengths of leather stays. He crouched low and used these to bind the loose fabric tight against his calves and when he stood burst out in bright laughter, for the pants puffed out atop this confinement.

"Elbereth, I look ridiculous," he grinned, but hoped Aragorn would contradict him.

"Well, I prefer how you look without any clothes, and the garments of men can never be fit for a prince among the First-born, but it is the best Rohan could give," he answered.

"Hah! You kept me naked for many days, hervenn, and I admit the benefits that offers are compelling, but no one should go uncovered for all to see."

Aragorn did not miss the archer's pointed disregard for the reference to his status, but decided not to question it. Legolas was calm again and he hoped to keep him that way. What would happen when they entered Greenwood he hated to guess, and this mentioned promise loomed over all like a gathering storm. They mounted up and pointed the horses' noses toward the river, now not so far away and by dusk were close enough to smell the sticky marsh mud bounding the broad flood. With unerring steps Legolas led them to the very ditch that had sheltered them their first night together and here they made camp. Over the rabbits Legolas shot and Aragorn roasted, they argued what to do, for they were still only two against however many Orcs might pour from Dol Guldur.

"Perhaps we should go first to Lorien and see if Lord Celeborn might spare us a few archers. Orcs are unlikely to attack an armed troop of Galadhrim," Aragorn suggested.

"No, that will only draw more Orcs and maybe the Wraiths, too. We can sneak past the Tower unseen."

"How so? Two riders alone are an easy and tempting target, a troop of elvish archers formidable."

"You have not been in there. The Wraiths have Orcs and men to spare, more than the arrows in the quivers of a single band of Galadhrim archers. Is Lord Celeborn ready to make war on Dol Guldur and empty his woods to do it? Nay, we will travel under the sun and stay on the western bank until we reach the Forest Road. Long before we reach it, we will be in the lands of Beorn. The Wraiths do not challenge Beorn."

"Even so, they will be watching for us and give chase as soon as we cross Limlight, knowing we escaped into Rohan, and those Uruks are impervious to bright sun. We should turn west and cross into the Field of Celebrant, traversing the fringe of the Golden Wood. I am sure the Lady will grant us leave to pass the Black Tower beneath the cover of the Mallyrn."

"I do not want to go to Lothlorien; I must not delay longer. There won't be any Uruks this time, just warg riders. Our horses are much too swift to be caught in a chase now that we are not both on Tuilelindô's back."

"How can you be sure about the Uruks?" Aragorn demanded and remembered this was what had made him so curious in the first place. "What were they doing in Dol Guldur?"

"What indeed," intoned Legolas grimly. "They were sent for reasons I do not understand, but I know they would not stay for they do not answer to the Wraiths."

"Were they messengers or had they some prisoner? Why would Mordor send so many? This bodes ill for both Greenwood and Lothlorien whether they remain or not."

"No prisoner was in their keeping, but beyond that I cannot say. But they were sent from Orthanc, not Mordor," stated the elf.

"Orthanc? Saruman holds it; surely I would have heard had it fallen to the enemy." Aragorn looked to the archer uneasily, for already he had made several prophetic announcements and the man wondered if he had true foresight.

"You have been to Orthanc?"

"No, but even so Saruman communicates with Ecthelion regularly and even with Rohan at times. I would have heard, Legolas."

"Perhaps, but I know what I saw, and I saw the Hand of the White Wizard on the shield of one of those Uruks."

"Stolen from a fallen soldier," Aragorn shrugged, relieved there was an explanation. One corrupt Maia was enough for Middle-earth to battle.

"Maybe," Legolas said, but he shook his head, brow furrowed as he searched his memory. The shield had been shrouded, the emblem revealed when the covering tore in the battle, so it could be as Aragorn said. Yet there were traces of things he'd heard in Dol Guldur that had not been erased by the pain and torment, nor Mithrandir's cleansing, and he did not believe the man was right.

"I hold with going through the borders of Lorien. Why do you object?" Aragorn returned to the issue at hand. "Indeed, it would be right to warn the Lord and Lady about those Uruks."

"Mithrandir will take care of it if they don't know, but in Greenwood we say that the Lady is far-sighted. There is little she does not see." He shivered a bit and pulled his cloak closer.

"Ah yes, Mithrandir. He left you wounded and alone in Baran Dalf. I'll have words for him about that when next we meet." Aragorn pitched a greasy bone into the darkened plains with particular venom and glanced back to catch Legolas smiling smugly, pleased at the display of loyal outrage on his behalf. Aragorn found he was unable to squelch either his concern or his displeasure. "Why did he leave you?"

"I don't think he was in Dol Guldur because of me. He found me and did what he could, then went back in, I think, though I was not really thinking clearly then," Legolas said. He paused and his gaze turned inward. "I remember telling him there were others of my kin inside. Perhaps he returned to try and save them, too. I don't know if he completed his original task before he found me or after."

Aragorn's eyes brightened in surprise. "Then there is hope for your Naneth. All the more reason to go to Lorien, for surely the wizard would take her there for healing. Mayhap she awaits you there."

Legolas flinched and his features twisted with the anguish afflicting his heart. "Nay, she is dead without doubt," he mourned. He felt ill and scrambled up to his feet, lurched away and made it beyond the fire's light before disgorging his dinner. Aragorn was at his side at once apologising and consoling and this made him ill anew. He heard himself howling through the wrenching heaves and clung to the arms that bolstered him up.

"Ai, Legolas, forgive me. I should not have mentioned it, only I could not help but hope," Aragorn said. He held the elf's hair back and supported him, but when the screaming started his blood ran cold. It was an unholy sound such as he had never heard from one of the First-born. By the time Legolas' crippling fury was spent, the man was trembling and the elf was wilted and weeping, the tears penetrated by long, low moans. Aragorn led him back to the fire and settled with him in his arms, unsure what to do or say. Legolas needed to come to terms with what had happened and as a healer the man knew this was the time, now before they crossed into dangerous terrain. Perhaps he could convince him to go to Lothlorien and seek healing there. "Speak, Legolas. I am listening, melethen."

"What would you have me say?" Legolas sniffed, crumpled in the man's lap. "I cannot. If I tell you, you'll desert me or kill me."

"What? Nay, Legolas, that is madness." And Aragorn feared it truly was.

"I cannot die yet; there's the promise I made."

"Valar! Legolas, I am certainly not going to hurt you, mush less kill you. Melethen, you must tell me what happened. I can't imagine what you've been through, but you survived it and I would not have you fade from this grief. Tell me before it destroys you."

"Could you do it, I wonder," the elf mumbled, snuggling closer and locking his arms around the man's back. "I can't."

"Then I will say what I think happened."

"No." But Legolas lay utterly still and listened.

"Aye." Aragorn considered what Legolas had already revealed and shuddered, took a steadying breath and began. "You mentioned breeding pits so you must have seen them. They made you watch, didn't they, as she was used and debased." Expecting a violent denial, Aragorn was horrified to hear Legolas laugh. The soft, lyrical sound acquired a manic edge and he tightened his hold on the elf, afraid Legolas' mind was already broken. Then the laughter ceased and he spoke and the man realised it was so much worse than that.

"Made me watch, if only that was all," he groaned and buried his face deeper against Aragorn's belly. "They made me participate. I couldn't; I was there to kill her not to rape her."

"What?" Aragorn grabbed Legolas and threw him over, needing to see his face, held him pinned to the earth. He could not have heard right. "What did you say? You…"

"No one told me," Legolas said, calmer now, resigned to whatever happened. "They said she would already be gone when I got there." Maybe he could have Aragorn fulfil the promise after he was dead. "Maybe that's why I was thrown into the your path."

"What are you talking about?" Aragorn shook him roughly. "You are not making any sense."

"I'm sorry," Legolas sighed, "you'll have to go on in my place. Do you think you can manage it?"

"Legolas, stop!" Aragorn shook him again but the archer was limp, head lolling, a dead weight in his hands.

"You have to understand about the promise. It's important and if I can't do it you will have to. Such is the lot of a husband. I promised her I would see it done. It was her dying wish, Aragorn. Such things must be honoured."

"All right." Aragorn forced himself to stillness though his heart was hammering. What had been done to Legolas was breaking him but he was still coherent. He had to regain control of the situation and try to get him through this crisis. Lothlorien was not far if he could stabilise the archer enough to get him there. "Tell me about your mother's wish, then."

"Yes," Legolas dragged himself up, licked his lips, sat with his back to the man so he did not have to see Aragorn's face. He didn't want to see it, the moment when love turned to disgusted hatred. "They said she would be gone, that what I would kill might look like her but was not her."

"Kill?" Aragorn choked on the word, set a steadying hand on the elf's shoulder. This could not be what it sounded like.

"They said her soul would already have fled long before I got there, because they would have raped her many times over by then. It took days, you know, to get there. Dol Guldur is many leagues from Thranduil's stronghold." Legolas paused and dared a glance over his shoulder, saw the pained misery in Aragorn's grey eyes. "But it was all just lies so I would not hesitate. I understand it now; how would they know? No one ever returned from Dol Guldur to say otherwise and we have to believe the lies. We can't leave the females in there alive when they're captured. Males are just castrated and slowly tortured to death, but females breed new Orcs."

"Legolas." Aragorn swallowed and his grip on the elf tightened, unable to deny the truth any longer. "They sent you, your father sent you to kill her." He was struggling now not to be sick himself. "To kill her and then die there, too. This is madness."

"Madness? How could I let them do that to her? Even if it was only her body, how could I let them use her, turn her into one of their foul brood mares? I was never more determined to do anything in all my life than stop them. So I was prepared, so angry I never considered any other possibility. I was exultant when they captured me." He sighed deeply and shook his head, gave a hoarse laugh. "The Wraiths thought it was funny and handed my torture over to the one who'd given them this incredible victory. Ari was an eager pupil. I almost forgot why I was there it was so bad. The Nazgul didn't, and one day when I'd been beaten and raped so often I no longer felt it anymore, they decided to remind me." Legolas stopped, lost for a time in the horror of these memories, until Aragorn squeezed his shoulder.

"You need not go on," said the man and his words were wet with sorrow. "Enough, melethen, enough."

"But the promise. You said you would listen, Besnô nín."

"Ai, Legolas. So be it," Aragorn swallowed back a sob, nodding, and reminded himself this promise had kept the archer alive thus far. He moved closer and gently rubbed the elf's back. "I will hear it all, then."

"The Nazgul were men once. All that is in a man's nature they have warped and twisted beyond recognition. Where a good man's hunger for power and control makes him a strong and compassionate leader, the Wraiths delight only in enslaving and suborning others. Where a good man enjoys the drives of his body to make a family to love and cherish, the Wraiths revel in the power of sexual manipulation, forcing the body to respond against the orders of the mind or the desires of the heart. To hold this power over one of the First-born thrilled them as nothing else save having their victims die at the moment of release.

"As they had done so often, they had Ari tease me into rigid arousal, then kept me there in a mad frenzy of need, made me beg and plead, raped me repeatedly and used my organ as an instrument to rape others, who were used in the same way, long chains of hard cocks thrusting and tearing at whatever bloody hole was next in line: male, female, Orc, human, elf, it didn't matter. I remember while this was happening how glad I was that I did not have to see the face of the person I hurt, and how strange for the Wraiths to allow this mercy."

In the deepening night, Aragorn vomited. Legolas did not seem to notice his distress and was still talking.

"One by one, the others in the line were given release and killed, so this I deemed would be my fate, contenting myself that Ari would die, too, since it was he behind me. That's when the Wraith's reminded me, whispered her name in my ear as my rapist spilled. They killed him, pulled him off me, and then it was just me and the poor soul I was raping. It was like a contest; whoever came first died first, but now I didn't want to die without making sure she was dead. Oh, how they laughed to see me struggle!

"I managed to pull out and the naked body I'd so horribly abused collapsed onto the filthy floor, too weak to remain upright, and I fell to my knees too, wailing, struggling not to masturbate for of course I was still hard, and racked with guilt besides, thinking the elf was dead. It wasn't so. She rolled over, breasts heavy and belly huge. I found out my rape chain was only three long: Ari, me, and my mother. My mother, not an empty husk whose soul had fled, staring up at me in horror, and I had to kill her. Indeed, she begged me to, but I had no weapon at all. So she spoke to me in the old tongue, said I would have to strangle her. Then she made me the promise, a double promise, part for her to fulfil, part for me. To refuse my part meant she would refuse hers and never forgive me for what I had to do, for what I had already done.

"She still wore her wedding band, for the Wraiths thought it amusing for her to have that constant reminder of her lost love, to know how she betrayed her husband, her people. She gave it to me, made me swear to take it back to Thranduil so he would know she was gone, so that her life would never be used as a lever against him. That is the promise and you can see why it is so important to see it done, not just for me though I'll go mad without her forgiveness. She turned back over so I would not have to look into her eyes while I did it and she did not struggle. The Wraiths did not realise what I was doing until it was too late.

"I don't remember what happened after that. I know the torture went on but don't know how long. Who can mark the passing of days when there is no light? I know I should have been trying to escape, but I could not manage it. I couldn't bear to be conscious for my fingers still felt that last pulse in her veins; they feel it even now. Then I was roused from oblivion by the scorching light of Mithrandir's Song and found out she didn't have to die at all. If I had not killed her, he would have saved her instead.

"Once he got the truth out of me, he left to go make sure the unborn Orc she'd conceived was dead, too. I lived for the promise and for you, a chance to save something instead of destroying. I didn't mean to love you, either. I know I am not fit to be anyone's mate, a kin-slayer, but I was so empty and I thought the poison would finish me anyway. There is nothing more to tell. Are you going to kill me now?"

"No, Legolas," Aragorn rasped, barely able to form the words. He wrapped the elf tight in his arms and held him, knowing not what else he could do.

TBC

The title is taken from "What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide." which is from Shakespeare's Henry VI, part 3, Act IV, Scene III
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To Resist both Wind and Tide