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
- 10
- 11
For
a moment there was utter silence, and all I could hear was the rush of blood in
my ears and the feel of my quivering knees.
Then
there was a yell from one in the army, a yell of rage and sorrow and hatred,
and out of the corner of my eye a figure burst from the ranks of wild men and orcs and came flying at me with
his sword drawn. I drew my knife barely in time to block a downward stroke that
made my whole arm go numb. I was keeled two steps backward from the first blow,
or perhaps it was from shock for I got a good look at the face before me.
It
was Thranduil, with my pale gold hair and all of Sauron�s
coldness, and in his eyes there was death and hatred.
I froze, unable to move as I saw a second stroke arching down to meet my head.
There
was another cry, and I was knocked aside as Glorfindel grabbed me and hauled me
away. I saw Dagorion knock the stroke aside and
advance three paces in attack.
They
were matched evenly, spite Dagorion�s year and a half
age deficit, and alike and different in everyway. They were youthful, well
trained in the art of war, and skilled as none before them but one was cold and
black as the burnished stone fortress he was raised in, the other aglow with
the love, light and joy that Imladris had poured into
him. They glared at each other with the utmost loathing, eyes locked, mouths
grim lines of determination, and each completely ignorant of the other�s similar
lineage.
I
went numb and turned my face away, unable to watch, and wincing at every sharp
ping of metal on metal.
This
was what it came down to, everything that had been my adult life narrowing down
to a duel, a sharp point in time, to push painfully into my heart. There would
be no winner to me.
A
strangled cry signaled the beginning of the end.
I
shut my eyes tight and my heart stopped beating as there was the plop of one
falling into the mud, a grunt, and the wet sound of a weapon going sticky with blood.
Prying my eyes open I saw Dagorion looking down,
shoulders heaving and bleeding from several nicks in his armor.
On
his back on the ground was Thranduil, breast plate wrenched open at the chest
blood poisoning over the raw edges of the metal.
I
stared, and fell to my knees, vaguely aware of the great yell that rose from
our army, vaguely aware of my fellow elves rushing past me to charge at the
fleeing orcs. I was hazily aware that we had won,
that Sauron was dead, there would be no more fear, and now we could go home.
As
the army began to gather to march back to Imladris I
went to him to bid my farewell, the farewell I had never been allowed to have
in the first place.
Fittingly
the skies had darkened and it began to rain; not a down pour but enough to wash
the dirt and blood away from his face. I knelt at his head in the mud, feeling
the water and earth soak in to cling cold and wet to my skin, and I did not
care.
Glorfindel
stood behind me, hesitating.
�Leave
me,� I said softly. �Leave me alone with him for a while.�
His
eyes were open and unseeing, but the chill was gone from them to be replaced by
emptiness. They were the deepest blue, framed by black lashes and eyebrows,
colored just like my own but with a sharpness that could only have been from
the Dark Lord. The hair that mingled with the mud in the rain was silvery and
pale, just like my Adar�s and his Adar before him.
The curves of his face were sharper, his chin was slightly longer, and his nose
was none that I had seen before, but he was at last mine, my son, and not Sauron�s.
I
stroked the raindrops off his cheeks and closed his eyes so that it looked as
if he were sleeping, and held his head in my lap and wept, until the great ache
in my chest was partially satiated. For the longest time I sat in silence, the
pattering of the rain on the armor and the ground the only sound in my ears.
Then at last there was a soft touch on my shoulder and I turned my head to see
Glorfindel standing beside me, looking down at my face with sorrow.
�Come
away,� he said sadly.
But
I did not want to leave him, to rot and be scavenged with all the foul orcs and men that had traded in their lives and their souls
to service of the Dark Lord. I bore the body back with me to the Valley and
buried him, just on the outskirts at Elrond�s request. His grave was marked
with a small white stone bearing the graceful image of a beech tree.
Dagorion never questioned my strange behavior over
his fallen foe. He came just before the body was lowered into the ground and
stood beside me, staring down at the ashen face with a pensive look. He said
quietly, �It is all ended.� But a muscle in his jaw twitched and it looked as
if he wished to say more.
It
was all ended, and the time of healing for Middle-earth had begun.
There
were no more dreams of Sauron for me.
Dagorion�s battle lust cooled, and he began to long
for something else though he did not know what it was.
I
knew what he sought and I began to desire it as well. Glorfindel caught my many
and wistful gazes at the Misty Mountains, and came to me at the window one day. �Do
you think it is time?� He said.
�Time for what?�
�To go back. You are king there. Do you think it is time
to claim your kingdom?�
I
narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips until the image of the Mountains became blurry.
I knew little, if nothing, about what it would mean to be King of Northern Mirkwood. Could I fix what had been so badly broken?
Would elves return, or had the poison of the Dark Lord permeated too deep to
ever be removed?
�We
could do it,� Glorfindel said tentatively, gauging my reaction. �You, me, and Dagorion.�
�Perhaps,�
I answered, and Glorfindel let the subject be.
His
suggestion weighed heavily in my mind for weeks to come. It seemed like
millennia since I had been in Mirkwood, but things were different now�I was
different. I was ready, I decided. I would do this, for Adar, and for Dagorion.
Both
Glorfindel and Elrond were very pleased when I told them of my decision to
return to Mirkwood, and many other elves of L�rien
and Imladris decided to come with us.
�The
sun will shine and the birds shall sing there, again,� Lindir
enthused, ever optimistic. He had nearly passed following the battle at Orodruin but had fully recovered in mind and body, and
followed where ever Dagorion led.
So
at last, years after the ruin of Mirkwood, we departed from Imladris
to make the green wood whole again.
�I
shall miss your company, Legolas,� Elrond said at the gate, and indeed his eyes
were sad. He patted Glorfindel�s knee. �I shall miss
all of you. Farewell!�
Glorfindel
and Dagorion raised their hands in goodbye, nudging
their horses to canter off down the bridge and the rest of the party followed.
�Elrond,�
I said quickly, staying my gelding. There was a question in back of my memory
that would not rest since my coming to Imladris, and
Elrond might harbor the answer. �Before I Ieft
Sauron, he told me�he told me that Oropher, my
grandsire, was also my Adar�with Thranduil,� I said slowly, searching his eyes
intensely for answers.
Elrond
looked grave and gazed at my face for several moments. At length he shook his
head slowly. �I know little Thranduil�s private
dealings, or of Oropher�s.�
I
must have looked perturbed, for he patted my thigh and said, �Be reassured that
anything Thranduil or Oropher did for each other, and
would have done for you, would have been done only with the greatest of love,
something Sauron knows nothing of.�
I
nodded. �Farewell, and thank you,�
With
that, I was off down the bridge to catch up with the rest of the party, to
return to Mirkwood and take up life again.

~The
End~
- 10
- 11
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