Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Beautiful Dreamer	By : narcolinde Category: +Third Age > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 4415 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, its characters, or its plot and settings. No money is earned from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Beautiful Dreamer
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Chapter 5
- 6-Six
- 7-Part Seven
- 8-Epilogue
- 2
- 3
- 4
WARNING: this part is very dark and includes an extended and traumatic scene of drug-induced capitulation to kinky sex with a minor. It isn't pretty and it isn't meant to be and if it bothers you to know such things can and do happen to good and decent young people, then don't read this chapter. For those who think elves cannot do bad things to one another, read the Book of Lost Tales and/or the Silmarilion. The story's conclusion will be ready in a few days and it returns to the mood of light humour found in the first part and will be a sweet and happy ending for all. This is your only warning, folks. Read at your own risk.

Part Three: Truth is Subjective

There seemed to be a great celebration in progress, the mansion fairly ablaze with light and laughter and music. Elves danced and sang and conversed, regally attired and elegantly poised, waited on by deferential servants in livery befitting a noble House of the Elder Days. Elrond gaped in amazement at the soaring columns and the decorative mouldings, marble floors and wainscoted walls, sculptures and fountains and friezes that put the best decoration and design of his home to shame. Legolas' abode was not a house; it was a palace.

The prince's ire had not cooled and the memory unfolded heedless of Elrond's commands to stop. He could only tag along as Legolas stormed into the vestibule, the bow still tight in his fist. He would have rushed amid the revellers but once more a strong hand grasped his arm and pulled him to a halt. Elrond saw it was the same tall elf addressed earlier as 'Adar Edwen', garbed in the formal suit of a seneschal of the House.

"Do not hinder me, Aldarion," hissed the archer and yanked free. He sought to get around his kinsman but was quickly blocked by the tall ellon.

"Nay, you must not do this. I know you are angry, but this is not the time to confront him."

"Why, because it is his Begetting Day, his Coll O Gwedh? I will tell Hîren Adar what he has done, for such injustice is no credit to the House of the Swallow."

"He knows, Legolas," Aldarion said quietly. "He is not pleased, but he cannot gainsay his own promise, no matter the ill-use to which those words were put. It has been the custom since Nénar's Coll O Gwedh: what the new Lord decrees on the first day of his majority stands as if Duilin himself spoke the words. You must not disrupt the celebration else you tempt even greater ill-fate to befall you. Tomorrow you may plead your case, but today Ambarónë is Lord of the House."

There was silence as the two shared this unpleasant truth and then Legolas just deflated, the fire of his anger dying out to be replaced by a hopeless and hollow stoicism. Seeing this, Aldarion was moved to compassion and set his hand on the young ellon's shoulder.

"It will not always be this way, Thôn Thent, thelionen (Short Pine, my sister-son). Your value will shine forth no matter the weapon you wield. You were not born with a bow in your fist, though some might believe it since it never leaves your hand. Treat your new station with as much diligence and integrity as you have the first. No less would my sister do; no less do I expect of you."

Now Elrond's eyes were opened in the naming of this noble Lord Duilin of the House of the Swallow and a cold chill gripped his heart. He was not a spectral guest in blighted Greenwood's hidden city beneath the trees. He was in the City of the Singing Stones.

This puzzle was beyond his skill to unravel and he wanted only to return to his comfortable study where the young son of Thranduil simply hoped to find a trustworthy lover for his first encounter. Here was a task for truly ancient folk, Galadriel or Galdor or Mithrandir. Nay, worse; he was in the province of Námo and Estë; how could he hope to heal a wound so grave as this must be? Elrond had not felt so ill-equipped and untried since his novice days in Lindon. He must break the enchantment before this terrible history came to pass.

"Legolas," he spoke softly but firmly, "let us go from here, pen neth." To his utter shock both elves turned in his direction, Aldarion's eyes darting around the empty foyer while Legolas focused a sad, proud gaze directly upon him.

"Who speaks?" demanded Aldarion, groping for the dirk at his waist. Legolas laid a hand upon that arm.

"Be at peace, it is just a comrade without, come to bear me company on this troubled night. Your words are wise, Adar Edwen, as always, and I will do as you say for my mother's sake." So promising, Legolas retreated into the night and walked amid the gardens, Elrond beside him. "Stay with me," said the archer to the healer, "even as you promised. There is a debt betwixt us and I will demand its redress if that is required."

"Nay, I have given my word. You need not call in that debt. Yet I fear…"

"Speak no more; this is not about your fears," admonished Legolas, voice hardened as that of any veteran warrior's and Elrond obeyed him.

The laughter and music of the celebration drifted after them along the shadowed paths they walked. Gradually the odd juxtaposition of Ages dissipated and once more they became submerged in the past as if it were the present, Legolas on the cusp of majority, Elrond the unseen voyeur to all that transpired.

Legolas did not return to the training fields and his restlessness did not abate. At one point rage and despair overwhelmed him and he cast his bow away into a thick hedge of roses, then seconds later dived amid the thorns to retrieve it. This small eruption of petulance was witnessed by an unseen person whose mocking amusement rang through the dark ere he stepped into sight.

"Oh, what an image you make," he laughed again. "Still a child, unable to master your emotions or accept your place in life." He was tall and dark haired, a lean and dashing ellon of obvious rank, dressed for the party in clothes of satin and silk, the colours subdued by the night into shades of umber and charcoal that could not obscure the richness of the cloth or the refinement of the design. His eyes glinted above grinning lips as he crossed his arms before him and surveyed Legolas with unhidden appreciation.

"I am no child, Malantur," retorted Legolas. "In two years it will be my turn and I will have my revenge on Ambarónë." Yet in his heart he knew this for the lie it was; he would never be a Lord of the House. His companion did not challenge him and instead he felt the heat of the ellon's gaze and consoled himself with that, pleased to incite this level of interest for Malantur was older and noble among their people. "Why aren't you inside toasting his majority? I would have thought you and he would end the night together."

"Oh really?" Malantur grinned as he stepped closer and gathered Legolas' arm across his, leading him along the path again. "What can an innocent know of desire's fulfilment?"

"Innocent I may be, but I am not a babe. I know all about the card games in the cellars," snorted Legolas, and instantly an image flashed through his mind and into Elrond's: a decadent quartet of elves, two males, one this elf Malantur, and two females, revelling in orgasmic frenzy.

It swirled away as fast as it arrived for Legolas was enjoying the present and the proximity of one who plainly found him alluring, whether he would ever be a Lord or no, no matter that Malantur named him a child, thinking he did so to restrain himself thus by remembering his companion was not of age yet. Flirting was a safe and pleasing way to explore his dawning sexual power; Legolas knew he was beautiful to see and that many an eye followed him wherever he went.

"What?!" exclaimed Malantur in mock astonishment. "You've been spying on us? That is very naughty, Legolas, and such sights should not sully so pure a heart and mind." The ellon set his hand on his young companion's chest and stopped him. Turning to stand face to face, he stared long into the archer's eyes. Then he smiled. "I knew you were there, once, but you fled away so quickly I had little time to note whether the game excited you. Did it?"

"Aye," admitted Legolas boldly. "I only ran because it is impolite to intrude on something so private. I didn't know what you were doing in there until I arrived."

"Oh, this I know," nodded Malantur and drew Legolas into motion again. He led the way around the house, steering his companion toward a wing less bright with candlelight and less crowded with guests.

Abruptly the scene shifted and Elrond found himself inside a simple but well furnished sitting room, watching Malantur seduce Legolas, plying him with wine and compliments, encouraging his resentful jealousy of his brother. The young archer was already intoxicated but the learned healer realised there was an edge to his inebriation and suspected the drink was laced with a potent stimulant, though he had not seen the ellon administer it, this because Legolas himself had not. There was no doubt in his mind what was about to happen here but the elven Lord was powerless to end the drama, his promise given.

It was plain enough that Legolas wanted him to see what happened, needed him to understand this part fully, and knowing the nature of the fantasy he was here to unmask, whatever followed must be much worse. Elrond felt sick inside, fearing what Legolas had endured.

"Did it shock you to learn Ambarónë did not wait for this day to indulge his carnal desires?" Malantur was saying.

"Nay. Aye." Legolas shook his head, confused, and frowned. "I know he hates me. He holds himself so aloof, so perfect. His has no acquaintances who are not Lords and will mix only with the very highest among them. Hîren Adar thinks he can do no wrong." Legolas took a long swallow from his glass. "I despise him! I am better at archery and better at lessons, but none of it matters. He will always be favoured over me."

"Oh, but he is so envious of you, Legolas," crooned Malantur, refilling the half-empty glass, pleased with the disjointed and rambling replies. "He knows you are more skilled and more intelligent, and undeniably more beautiful. Besides, you will not be expected to wed some predetermined Lady and join Turgon's court. You will have freedom to do as you please with whomever you please while he will become a virtual slave to duty."

"Honours await him," fumed Legolas, "but for me, only service."

"There is great honour in service," countered Malantur. "I would be well pleased to have one such as you bound to my House." His words were couched in sultry tones and he settled a heavy hand over the archer's thigh, squeezing. "What say you to that? Would you be willing to suffer my dominion?"

"Dominion?" Legolas' eyes fell to the hand on his leg and then lifted to meet the hungry stare fixed upon him. Malantur wanted him and the knowledge set his blood racing. He was hard in what seemed to be seconds and while he had dealt with that before, this time there was a biting, gnawing ache he did not recognise. It permeated his whole body and leaked into his soul and the nexus of it all was Malantur. He wanted Malantur and imagined him nude, wondering how he looked, what his cock felt like.

"Aye, dominion." Malantur's hand slid up to the ellon's crotch and blatantly massaged the rigid organ confined there. Legolas grunted and spread his legs wide and Malantur grinned. "Why, Legolas, you are aroused. Do you find me appealing, young one? I am flattered indeed."

"Nay, it is you who wants me," snickered Legolas smugly, watching the hand map his erection and trace his balls, wriggling to increase the erotic sensation, breath hitched and ragged. He wondered if Malantur would untie the leggings and touch him. A soft groan escaped his throat but he barely acknowledged it. "If we were playing the game, you would lose on purpose just to get a kiss."

"A kiss? Yea, you shall have it then," Malantur laughed and leaned forward to sample the succulent red lips which pouted for him prettily but did not part. He sat back and shook his head in dismay. "Valar, you are innocent!" he exclaimed.

"Nae, is it so terrible a thing to be? You were so once, were you not?" complained Legolas. "I would like another kiss now."

"Would you? Nay, that is not what I want, but you are too immature to understand," Malantur withdrew his hand and rose with a sigh. "If only it were not so." He strolled toward the door, for these were not his rooms. "I think I will go now, for I have plans and you are not suited to join them."

"Oh, you have procured maids to celebrate the great day after all," seethed Legolas, throwing his glass across the room as he shot up, furious and humiliated. "You have been teasing me and now you will go and laugh about it with Ambarónë. Get out!"

"I am going and do not think to sneak away to spy on us tonight, henellon, or you shall regret it sorely," and with this challenge Malantur departed.

Legolas went after him and slammed the door shut so hard the boards quaked. He stood there glaring at the portal a time, scowling over Malantur's final words, never realising the drug magnified the idea in his thoughts and linked it to his unquenchable desire. He believed the decision to defy that order was his own. His departure went unremarked, only a phantom guardian to watch over him.

It was a nasty little cellar, dimly lit by a single flame, dank and dark, cool and damp; there was a cistern near. This room was used for storing wine, the bottles arrayed in high shelves that defined the limits of the space while casks stacked in a corner held more of the vintage, ageing to maturity through untold numbers of years. The young elf kneeling naked on the stone floor, hands bound behind his back, would not have so long to wait.

Elrond was in great distress, seeing this and knowing he could not stop it, realising it had already happened and he was here to bear witness to it. If a phantom can tremble in impotent rage then so Elrond's wandering spirit shook. A great deal of time had simply been edited out of the memory, the seduction far advanced now. He had no inkling of the journey to this place or the events preceding this point in time; what sweet lies and tenderly invasive touches Malantur had employed to get this far. The Lord of Imladris found he was grateful for that. His companion was not frightened or disturbed, gazing at his captor through a haze of sexual excitement beyond any wet-dream. A bottle upright and uncorked stood on the floor beside a discarded glass, attesting to the reason for Legolas' deepened state of arousal.

Malantur was perched on a chair, his tunic laid neatly across its back, pants undone, penis and balls crowding the opening, protruding proudly through the gaping fabric. He kept his hands firmly anchored to the seat and devoured his captive's reaction, noting the parted lips and wide eyes as Legolas looked upon him.

"Do I measure up?" he asked chuckling, "or is mine the first you've seen, hard and erect just for you?" Of course he knew his was the first and that gave him a thrill that made his shaft leap. The sight made Legolas gasp and Malantur uttered a profane oath, shifting on the chair. "Well? Can you do no more than stare? Did you not tell me you wanted to know what I looked like and how I felt?" His voice shook a little and he caught his breath, holding it as Legolas slowly leaned forward and darted out his tongue, dabbing it daintily across the glans of the ruddy cock.

"Ah!" Malantur jolted in his seat and scooted closer to its edge, eyes locked with the archer's shyly triumphant gaze. His breath came and went in mighty gusts, but he managed to encourage his lover anyway.

"Aye, again, Legolas, kiss it gain." He was obeyed and the instant the full red lips touched his flesh, Malantur snatched hold of the long golden hair and held the retreating head close. "Nay, no going back. Here is what you wanted. Does it please you to see a cock rigid and aching just because you're near? Nay, no words from you," he gave the hank of hair a sharp jerk and Legolas made a complaining noise. "I know it does. What a distraction you have been to me, Legolas, parading yourself around, so smug and proud of your beauty, your power to excite, so safe and secure in your virgin skin. It's the smell of you that drives me mad, I think. Now pleasure me, little swallow."

Legolas did, learning how to suck cock before he learned how to kiss and never knowing there was anything strange about that, eager for his lesson. He lapped the long shaft from root to tip, enveloped the head with his lips, lavished his tongue over the tiny orifice to coax forth the slick and tangy sap from Malantur's root. He applied sufficient suction to make the ellon squeal and pivot forward, felt the surge of heat as the thick erection plunged almost to the back of his throat before retreating again. He was an able and willing student and soon knew the thrill of hearing his lover's groaning cries of urgent, anguished delight as his mouth was fucked. All the while his body hummed and sang in reciprocal excitement, but when Malantur came he instinctively recoiled from the bitter injection, turning aside to spit in disgust. His lover was not displeased and laughed, patting the crown of his head with affection.

"You'll become accustomed to that in time," he promised, eyes bright and chest heaving. His gaze ran over the naked ellon with satisfaction; he had tied Legolas' hands with the tunic of his uniform, an unprecedented debasement given that he would never wear it again after this night. He ran his hand through the yellow mane and took the fair face by the chin, tipping it up to catch the light across a high, flushed cheek. His brows rose at the expectant and openly hungry expression in the shining eyes trained upon him. Perhaps he had used too much of the drug, for he rather enjoyed the shamed panic that generally overtook his conquests at this stage in the game.

"Now do me, Malantur; you promised," pleaded Legolas and shifted closer on his knees, rigid shaft bobbing there between his legs.

"Oh, you want to be sucked?" teased Malantur. He laughed as Legolas nodded vigorously.

With a groan of contented fatigue he rose and lifted his captor to his feet, guiding him deeper into the small room, taking the candle from its place atop a barrel to light their way. It's dancing lick of fire revealed a corner furnished with a sturdy bed, bare of linens or drapes or pillows. There was a rude shelf upon the wall where stood an oil lamp and a range of glass bottles and other indeterminate things; there Malantur set his candle as he sat Legolas on the mattress. He used the flame to ignite the wick, adjusting it so it didn't smoke and then replacing the clear glass globe. The illumination increased so that Legolas' pale flesh and the bright red nipples were accentuated, his engorged cock an obscene finger of flesh jutting into the air.

"Here?" Legolas queried, leaning back on the thick feather bedding, thinking this was far better than the cold hard floor or a bare wooden chair, but his hands were still tied and prevented him from being comfortable. He frowned. "Untie my hands, Malantur."

"Nay, that would spoil things," smiled the ellon. He rummaged about on the shelf a moment, collecting items that he hid in his hands, and knelt beside the reclining elf. He bent close and kissed Legolas, fondling his cock as he did, and now the archer knew to open for his tongue and did so. During the distraction of this oral stimulus, he quickly attached a heavy, hinged ring around the base of Legolas' cock. It snapped shut with a loud click and must have pinched the tender skin, for the ellon yelped and jerked on the bed, trying to roll away from Malantur.

"Ai! What have you done to me?" demanded Legolas, and now there was a hint of fear in his voice.

"Making sure the fun doesn't end too quickly," grinned Malantur. "Being a virgin, I doubt you could last long otherwise."

"What do you mean? Take it off, Malantur; it hurts," insisted Legolas, struggling to free his hands and get the thing off him.

"No good struggling," volunteered Malantur. "You came here of your own accord. I told you not to follow me. Now, I will do all in my power to ensure you reap the full measure of your decadent lust." He reached for the rigid cock and stroked it firmly, smiling a smug and knowing grin as Legolas groaned and pushed into the contact. "See? You want what I've planned for you, Legolas. Did I not promise to teach you all about pleasure?"

"Aye, but I…"

"Then relax and enjoy the experience. After this night you will no longer be an untouched and untouchable child. Now, turn over on your knees, pen neth."

"Why? What are you going to do?" Legolas meant to pull away but just then Malantur rubbed his thumb over the glans of his cock and he felt the familiar coiling rush of orgasm. He shuddered, wailing in misery as he realised the real purpose of the tight ring clamped round his genitals. "Ai, nay, nay!" he cried and in his agony allowed Malantur to roll him over.

He lay panting, face pressed against the clammy ticking, trying to calm the seminal surge rippling through channels that were closed. When slippery hands gripped his bottom he barely acknowledge it, but when a slick, thick finger shoved inside his anus he shrieked in protest. "Daro!" he cried and struggled to get away from the burrowing digit, trying to kick Malantur.

"Oh, be still but a moment longer, you silly child, and all will become clear to you," scolded Malantur. He leaned the weight of his body against the squirming elf and once more fisted the protruding cock. His efforts were rewarded soon enough as he found the right spot and stroked across the hidden gland. Legolas went still and then shuddered out a loud shout of shocked delight. Malantur laughed. "There, that's better," he crooned and continued massaging the swell of nerves and fluid.

"Malantur!" cried Legolas. "What…Ai!" He was straining into the electric touches, frantic when he felt the finger retreating, desperate to hurry it when it re-entered, all the discomfort vanished and his desire raised to a level he couldn't even wonder about, so intense was the sensation. A second and third finger were added and the new sensation of being stretched full engulfed him.

"Like that?" chuckled Malantur. Legolas could not even answer him and he deemed the moment had arrived. He was hard again and already well oiled, having taken care of that when he'd oiled his fingers, and eager to sink his cock inside the unbearably tight hole he had so diligently prepared to receive him. He removed his probing digits and stood, shushing Legolas' incoherent protests as he rearranged him more to his liking, propping the archer face down on the bed, ass aimed at the edge of the mattress. With great relish he mounted the virgin warrior and fucked him soundly, pleased and proud of the garbled pleas and aching moans his thrusts evoked, spilling with a shout of glorious triumph.

Exhausted, he pulled out and flopped upon the bed beside his trembling lover. Smiling into dazed and shocked blue eyes, he raised a hand and brushed across the soft, flushed cheek. "Be content, Legolas. Honours you desired and here is the first of many. You've been claimed by an elf of noble blood, Malantur son of Meglin, nephew of Turgon, King of Gondolin. Remember that I took your virginity and taught you the ways of such pleasures."

Legolas could not find the means to express his confused thoughts or define his boiling emotions. He was still aching in terrible need, both furious for being left this way and desperate for Malantur to grant him release, hoping the ellon would plunge inside anew, shocked by the sensation of emptiness in his soul as Malantur's seed oozed down his thighs. Before he could sort through any of it, a loud commotion arose outside, the sound of many voices raised in raucous song, the words muffled but the tone brash and bawdy, slurred by drunkenness and filled with lustful anticipation. The door burst open and a trio of noble warriors piled in, all finely dressed if a bit dishevelled.

"Ai, Malantur, you knave; you've started without us!" shouted one and the others laughed.

"Do I not deserve some reward for my risk? Aye, I've had the first taste and you are in for a treat," drawled Malantur. He sat up and tendered the quivering rump beside him a small, loving slap, meeting Legolas' panicked eyes with a smile.

"Then you must abstain from the first hand of the game," insisted another voice.

"Agreed," said Malantur, closing his sticky trousers and rising. He strolled to meet his friends. "Who has brought the cards tonight?"

On the bed, Legolas rolled to his side that he might identify the warriors and then wished he had not. There settling down at the card table were his brother and two of his high and mighty friends: Egalmoth, Lord of the Heavenly Arch, and Glorfindel, Lord of the Golden Flower. Egalmoth was ancient, an elf of the Awakening who had been to Aman and back, a mighty swordsman, and a close friend of the King's.

Legolas shivered to think of this bold and experienced ellon sheathing his cock within him, heart rate increasing as just then the Noldorin Lord turned and ran his eye over the naked figure curled on the bed, smiling as he met the wide blue eyes, offering a quick and friendly wink as though they had been comrades for centuries and had played this game together hundreds of times. Harsh laughter sounded from the table.

"I think he likes you, Egalmoth," the sneering voice said and Legolas recognised his brother's mocking tones. He shut his eyes, sickened and shamed for Ambarónë to see him like this.

"Nay, it is Glorfindel he really longs for," remarked Malantur. "I've seen how he struts and preens whenever he knows Gondolin's youngest chieftain is near." They all laughed, the handsome golden-haired Lord with them.

"Is it true, Legolas?" he called, the words coated thick with inebration as hungry eyes scanned the bound elf. "Have you dreamed of me as you pleasured yourself?"

"Aye," Legolas admitted, his answer barely a whisper, his heart shrinking into a cold and bitter stone within his breast for they all found this highly amusing.

"Just like his naneth," scoffed Ambarónë, "but at least he cannot be impregnated and foist some bastard child upon a noble House."

As fate would have it, Glorfindel won the round and came to the bed eagerly, turning his prize over and lifting the lean legs high upon his shoulders. He ploughed inside without preamble, sight locked on the fair face, and watched for the moment when he found the sweet spot, encouraged by the others who rose to watch. When he found that spot, Legolas was overwhelmed with need and realised he was begging for Glorfindel to fuck him hard and make him come, but he could no more control his words than he could quiet his aroused body. The Lord of the Golden Flower pounded into him, coming with a roar amid the laughing cheers of the audience.

So it went. They all had Legolas to the full at least twice, sometimes in pairs, sometimes singly, all but Ambarónë using him. The middle son of Duilin, newest Lord of the Swallows, stood at the foot of the bed and savagely cursed his half-brother, hissing out vile insults and dire threats as the others spent their ardour. Sometime before it was over, the restraint was removed and Legolas was granted his release, but he had no idea who was fucking him when the moment came and fell into exhausted stupor as his seed smeared the bedding.

At the closing of his eyes, blackness obscured the hideous dream, yet Elrond, heart broken and nerves frayed beyond bearing to witness this cruel debasement, realised it was not over.

Like a new dawn breaking, bright light announced the beginning of a new series of events. Time sped at a furious pace now and the elven Lord watched as the scenes flashed by. For an instant he was with Legolas in the office of Lord Galdor, his kinsman, receiving a harsh rebuke for the night's activities and in this way Elrond found out that the horrible event had been made the subject of gossip throughout the realm. It became equally clear that save for Malantur and Ambarónë, none were aware that Legolas had been drugged, not even, he was shocked to learn, Legolas himself.

The archer accepted the low evaluation of his character and morals imprinted by the sordid night of drinking, gaming, and licentious excess. He was blamed for bringing low the esteemed generals of the realm, and he accepted that without question, too. He had gone after Malantur knowing about the games he and Ambarónë played; therefore, he must have desired to become the prize to be won by their sport. It was true he had desired Glorfindel and still did. It was true he had enjoyed the pleasure their attentions wrung from him. It was true he would do the same again. Aye, he must be depraved and low, unfit to be named a son of noble Duilin, Lord of the Swallows, not even a bastard son.

Thus was Legolas' ruin achieved.

Elrond saw his removal from the grand estate, led away by Aldarion who did not forsake him, though his nephew's fall meant the end of his career with the House of the Swallow, a comforting arm cast about the bowed shoulders. He watched as Legolas took up the green uniform of the House of the Tree, reduced to a lowly recruit, out of place as the eldest among youthful novices who avoided him, trying to learn to wield an ungainly club studded with sharp spikes of iron. He pushed himself to succeed and did so. Eventually, he rose to the rank of lieutenant and earned grudging praise from Galdor.

Centuries fled away in seconds, the images a blur of emotions, here and there a scene more vivid standing out, a comment of particular note sounding through the torrent. The lurid tale lost its power to enthral the populace, but this did not free Legolas from its doom. Elrond saw that he remained trapped by the desires awakened that night and became a regular participant in Malantur's continuing games, though he was not made to endure the presence of his brother again. As predicted, Ambarónë married and had a family. Yet Glorfindel was there almost every time the games commenced.

Through the venal and lurid couplings a bittersweet truth emerged: that Legolas had come to love the
lord of the Golden Flower and the feeling was returned. Yet because Legolas had sunk so low, Glorfindel, a prominent and respected member of the King's court, could not act on his devotion and legitimise their relationship. Malantur, shunned by Ambarónë, also clung to the fair archer and, perhaps regretting in part his collusion with Duilin's middle son, took to arranging quiet, discreet, and secret assignations for Glorfindel and Legolas, though the card games did not cease, for Legolas was addicted to the sensations introduced that fateful night.

Another shift tilted the world and suddenly Elrond was racing through streets aflame littered with the bodies of elves and orcs and balrogs, a slick film of ruddy ooze coating the paved way, a vile stench of burning flesh stinging his senses as his eyes burned and vision blurred from the swirling clouds of smoke and ashes. There was Legolas, fighting beside Galdor, desperately trying to clear a way for Glorfindel and his last remaining warriors, the troop beset by a mix of foul things from Morgoth's warped and depraved mind. He took a glancing blow from a heavy sword but never faltered, bellowing in rage as the whip of a balrog snaked past him and singed Glorfindel's hair.

Elrond understood. Legolas needed to show that he had redeemed himself, that his courage was not false and just as his uncle had promised his worth shone through, that his heart was true no matter the debasement endured by his body. No sooner had the realisation coalesced than the scene again dissolved and now they were in flight over the mountains, Legolas at the lead on account of his keen vision. Chaos broke out and the women and children screamed in terror; a balrog was in their midst. To their aid leaped Glorfindel and just as Legolas turned to see this, a desperate cry upon his lips, a flock of swallows swarmed up from the chasm and obscured his view.

The next instant Elrond was back in his study, the table overturned, crystals scattered and broken, Legolas crouched on the floor vomiting up wine and bile in noisy, sobbing heaves as tears streamed down his cheeks.
TBC

NOTE: Well, I do know the story of the Fall of Gondolin (my favourite tale Tolkien wrote) and that none of this happened, that this is peopled with folk never named, and that some of the actions attributed to the named 'good guys' will upset some people. 'Glorfindel would never!' and all that jazz. Well, he was drunk, probably drugged with the same stuff used on Legolas, and we have Legolas' nasty brother probably assuring him it is not the first time. Ditto for Egalmoth.

Nor do I think Legolas of Gondolin and Legolas of Greenwood are the same elf, but sometimes I like playing with that idea. I always write AU and that's what this is. The story began as an intense but humourous PWP and then I ended up 'surfing the rock slide' again and so this is what emerged. It will return to lighter humour for the conclusion. Thanks for those reading and especially those who have reviewed, and if I lost you here, well, I'm sorry about that.

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Beautiful Dreamer

Part Three: Truth is Subjective