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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness	By : MPB Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 26418 -:- 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.

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Chapter XXIX

Most of the wounded were allowed to leave the healing halls after a day or so and recuperate in their homes. Only Legolas and Galvreth were confined for an extended period of time due to the severity of their injuries. Galvreth in particular needed constant care and attention.

The twins labored hard and long to repair the internal damage done to him. Though neither had ever treated likewise injured Elves, they had seen their fair share of human victims. Village and settlement women ravished by raiding outlaws, men in Mannish prisons despoiled by fellow inmates to maintain the established hierarchy within and, the most heartbreaking of all, children abused by the very folk they trusted and should have had no reason to fear or hate. These the healers of Imladris knew because of Elrond's willingness to deal with the race whence two of his forebears were sprung. The knowledge now served his sons in good stead and while neither would guarantee the soundness of Galvreth's mind or spirit, both were confident that only scant physical evidence of his ravaging would remain in the years to come.

Galvreth was then kept in near perpetual slumber. Each time he regained enough consciousness to be fed without the danger of choking, beef tea or chicken broth was spooned into him. They were laced with strong sedating herbs that ensured he would slip back into deep, nigh dreamless sleep. This was at the twins' behest for experience had taught them that halting the vicious cycle of pain and fear oft allowed an ill or injured body to heal and recover more swiftly. And in Galvreth's case, inhibiting the functioning of his subconscious as well as conscious mind would prevent the onset of one of the most fatal states known to Elves - the slide into death brought on by rape. Thus, even when awake enough to imbibe sustenance, Galvreth's lucidity was suppressed to keep insidious memories at bay while his body struggled to mend.

It was this matter Elrohir sought to discuss with Legolas a few days after the archer returned to their abode. Not surprisingly, the archer had demanded that he be released to his mate's sole care soonest. He had never been a model patient for he loathed enforced bed rest and the immobility injuries forced on him. Worse for him to endure what he considered benign incarceration in a healing ward where almost everyone treated him as if he were a mewling infant fit for the cradle. At least he could be certain Elrohir would never make that mistake, he grumbled incessantly. Rather than suffer an unending litany of complaints from their royal patient, the healers swiftly acquiesced to his demand and, within the week, Elrohir had him transferred to their apartment.

It was no easy undertaking to see to the needs of a bedridden companion day in and day out. But worse were the nights when Legolas would toss and flail restlessly or cry out in anger and fear and he could do naught but hold his mate close and calm him down enough to return to soothing slumber. He questioned Legolas about his dreams but the prince only replied that he was reliving the events of his captivity. Elrohir did not fully believe him but he did not care to force Legolas to confide in him. The orcs had stripped the archer of choice and control when they tortured him. Even so little a thing as pressing for an answer would seem like an imposition to his still brittle-tempered spouse.

Today, however, Elrohir deemed it time to pry what he could out of his reticent mate. The night before, Legolas had cried out in his sleep as was his recent wont. Elrohir started to sooth him when he also began to toss and turn, doing his utmost to keep the archer from settling fully on his still healing back. But without warning, Legolas had wept and with such despair that it had alarmed Elrohir. Instead of helping him slip back into normal slumber, he had awakened the archer. Yet Legolas had balked at confiding what it was that had so troubled his sleep and Elrohir had prudently decided to leave it until the following morning. He did not directly question him however but chose to allow the archer to tell him in his own way and time. With a little subtle prodding of course.

They broke their fast together, after which he gave Legolas a refreshing sponge bath then covered him with a light blanket. The archer went without clothing for he could not abide any fabric touching his tender back just yet. After his own bath, Elrohir left for a while to see what duties of his mate he could take upon himself. He then looked in on Galvreth and spoke with Elladan regarding the prince's progress before returning to the apartment.

“When will you permit him to awaken?” Legolas inquired after Elrohir made his report.

“When his injuries have healed enough not to cause him overmuch discomfort,” Elrohir said, shedding his own clothing before slipping into bed beside Legolas. They lay facing each other to prevent undue chafing of the archer's sore back. “Mayhap another week or so.”

“Will he be sound?” Legolas quietly asked.

Pausing to think his answer through, Elrohir tucked a stray strand of pale gold behind the archer's ear then stroked his cheek, following the elegant line of the bone structure beneath. At length, he said: “That will depend on any number of circumstances. The clarity of his memories with regard to his torment. The cessation of much of his pain. The care and affection shown him by all he loves.” He paused once more, recalling the appalling picture of his beloved pinned to the ground and forcibly spread for his captors' beastly purposes. “It may help that he was not directly violated by the orcs.” When Legolas started to protest, he lifted a preemptive hand and added: “I know full well that it makes scarcely any difference whether the pain of a brutal breaching is wrought by multiple assailants spending their aggression on an unwilling body or by a single but unyielding instrument forced unbidden into any being's core, male or female. But Elladan and I hope that 'twill be less of a blow to Galvreth's self-esteem to have withstood impalement by a goblin club than to have lain as whore to an entire orkish horde.”

Legolas' blanched at his blunt words but continued to listen intently nonetheless. Elrohir stroked him comfortingly, running his hand gently over the archer's shoulder, arm and flank, his fingertips barely skimming the beginnings of the scars that marred his skin.

“'Twas still a violation of his body and spirit, there is no changing that,” Elrohir said. “But I think there might be a modicum of comfort in knowing that his assailants did not know him in the same fashion as a willingly received lover. The humiliation is of another degree and particularly so when one attempts to reintegrate one's self into one's family or community. There are less extraneous judgments surrounding the victim. Less chances of a man for instance accusing his woman of bearing her rapist's child. Or being labeled as tainted or unclean for having coupled however unwillingly with such fell beasts. We will have to impress that fact on him however slender a hope it may seem.”

Legolas slowly nodded, comprehending Elrohir's intent. There was no belying the horror or gravity of Galvreth's ordeal but if they could minimize the sense of worthlessness and self-loathing that often followed a sexual assault, he might just beat the odds and survive.

“What do you think are his chances?” Legolas anxiously queried. “I have never yet heard of any Elf surviving rape.”

“Yet Turgon's sister Aredhel did and even bore Eöl's son,” Elrohir pointed out.

Legolas gasped. “But 'tis said she was not unwilling! And she did become his wife.”

“Not unwilling to couple with a total stranger?” Elrohir snorted. “Whether he bedded her by force, coercion or enchantment, it makes little difference save perhaps in her discomfort and fear. 'Tis our belief that he took her against her will and she used her denial of it to keep her spirit alive. For if she were truly his avowed wife, why did she flee him when the opportunity presented itself? I am not saying that elven death due to ravishment is untrue. Only that there are always exceptions to every rule. Let us pray your brother will prove his mettle and live to be one of them.”

He gazed intently at Legolas when the archer subsided into a pensive pose. “Will you not share your thoughts with me, lassen vell?”-my dear leaf?-he gently coaxed.

Legolas sighed then moved into Elrohir's inviting arms before speaking. “I thought they would ravage us as humans have been known to do to their womenfolk,” he said. “It seemed that way when they forced Galvreth down on his belly and forced his legs apart. And Elbereth knows we have seen enough evidence of their abuse in the past. But no Elf of our kingdom survived such torment to tell us the full tale. All we have ever seen was that they were violated but not the manner of it.”

“The same must be said of our own experiences in this,” Elrohir acceded. He tried to recall all that knew about the matter.

The truth of Aredhel's fate aside, tales had come down through the ages of such atrocities wreaked on Elves by Morgoth's foul creations. But as Legolas had mentioned, there had been no surviving witnesses or victims to tell their stories. In the First Age, the most prominent Elves to escape the horror of captivity by Morgoth or his minions were Maedhros and Gwindor. Neither had been tortured in that manner. And if Gwindor's brother Gelmir had been assaulted thusly, he was killed ere he could recount it. Other survivors in the following ages had known terrible deprivation or torment as well but again not carnal assault.

“'Tis their claim that they spawn in order to propagate,” Elrohir slowly said. “I always thought it merely their rude manner of speech but now I wonder. Mayhap they literally do spawn and not birth their young as other races do.”

Legolas looked at him in shock, eyes wide with revulsion. “Spawn? Do you mean like - like mushrooms?!”

Elrohir nodded. “Have you ever seen a female orc? Indeed, have you ever seen their young?”

Legolas shuddered with disgust. “I have not,” he conceded. “But perhaps they hide them in their dens and do not permit them to go forth until they are grown.”

“I doubt it,” Elrohir said. “I have been in their dens, Legolas. Aye, Elladan and I and Glorfindel and his warriors. We have had to search for captives in the very depths of their nests though no Elf have we found alive before. You and Galvreth and the warriors with you are the first I know of to witness how they ravage their victims and survive to talk about it.” He drew Legolas deeper into the circle of his arms when he felt the tremor that rippled through the archer's lean frame. “I have never so much as caught a glimpse of a goblin child or evidence of their presence. In light of what we have discovered, mayhap 'tis reasonable to assume that there are no such creatures.”

Legolas thought about it. “It makes sense,” he finally agreed. “In the process of corrupting our forebears into orcs, 'tis possible Morgoth could not keep them as Eru designed them. They may have lost the ability to procreate in our manner.”

“And the speed with which they manage to replenish their numbers lends credence to the notion,” Elrohir added. “If they indeed spawn they must also mature much more swiftly than other races. And likely need far less nurturing than we do if any at all.”

“'Tis just as well,” Legolas said with a grimace. “I cannot imagine an orc nurturing anything.”

“Aye, they would likely eat any young as rear them,” Elrohir mused.

“That is not so far-fetched. They do devour their fallen folk. Meat is meat to them. They do not seem to recognize kith or kin save if it will benefit them. And even then, they squabble amongst themselves once the foul deed is done.” Legolas' grimace became a full-fledged scowl. “Well, whatever the truth of it, I am glad beyond belief that they did not force themselves on Galvreth. The very thought of those vile beasts spilling their seed inside my brother is enough to make my gorge rise!”

Elrohir stroked his hair soothingly until he calmed down once more. “If we are right about this, then all the better for Middle-earth. We can be spared the horror of half-orkish offspring roaming these lands. Aye, 'tis a sickening enough thought to be violated by these brutes. But far worse for any female to have to bear their young.”

He lapsed into silence as another thought struck him. “What is it?” Legolas queried.

The Elf-knight tightened his lips then said: “'Tis curious. We have rescued enough humans from their clutches to know that they are incredibly brutal to all their captives. But they do not subject mortals to assault, even amongst the women. Only Elves are made to suffer thusly with any constancy.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That they know an Elf forced is an Elf most likely doomed to die. It would appear the attacks on us are premeditated and not mere acts of bestial savagery.”

“As deliberate as their attempts to cripple Galvreth and me,” Legolas remarked. “It certainly gives the lie to the belief that they are naught but simple-minded brutes.

“'Tis dangerous to think that of them as a race. I warrant there are as many cunning minds in their ranks as there are lackwits amongst our kindred. 'Tis not the paucity of intelligence that oft defeats them but their selfish and quarrelsome natures. They are most effective as a force when they are in thrall to some greater power than they.”

Legolas looked thoughtful. “After they ambushed us, they did not dissolve into bickering but remained remarkably united for orcs. They must have been under someone's guidance.”

“Agreed,” Elrohir said. “The question is 'who'?”

“The Necromancer?” Legolas suggested in a hushed voice.

“Most likely.” Elrohir glanced at Legolas in alarm when the archer suddenly pressed his face into his neck, his countenance pained and blanched. “What troubles you, melethron?”-lover?

“All this talk of guile and wickedness,” Legolas choked. “It brings back too many memories.” Without warning, he lifted his head, leaned over Elrohir and kissed him with an ardency that left no doubt as to what he wanted.

Elrohir gasped against his mouth, startled by his unexpected passion. He gripped Legolas' shoulders and, with a slight push, gently broke their kiss. He found himself staring into lust-darkened pools of deepest sapphire.

“Legolas, if we could couple without hurting you, I would not hesitate to spread you beneath me this instant,” Elrohir groaned as an answering heat spread in his groin. “But you are not fully recovered and 'twould be folly to risk injuring you anew.”

“But I need this,” Legolas pleaded. “Elrohir, I can still feel that thing pressed against me. And there are times I dream that you did not come in time and I was assailed worse than Galvreth was. That - that 'twas no club they used but their own…” His voice trailed off for he could not bear to utter the unspeakable.

Elrohir stared at him in dismayed enlightenment. “Why did you not tell me?”

“Because you are weary come nighttime after caring for me all day,” Legolas softly replied. “I did not wish to burden you further with my troubles.” He cupped Elrohir's face in his hands. “But now I am telling you for it has become too much to bear. Will you still withhold from me the comfort of your possession?”

Elrohir gazed at him. Part of him wanted to give in to Legolas' plea for in truth he lusted for his mate as heartily as he loved him. But the prudent part warned him not to surrender so mindlessly to his body's desires. Legolas simply was not hale enough to couple with him. His back would not endure any abrading however mild and it would be perilous to force his legs to support any weight at all. Yet any position they took would result in injury to one or the other no matter how careful they were. Particularly when they reached the heights of rapture and lost much control of their bodies.

As he grappled with the dilemma, he felt Legolas' shaft prod his hip, potent evidence of the archer's need. He reached down to stroke him. Legolas moaned at his touch but vehemently shook his head.

“I need you inside me,” he begged. “I want to forget what nearly did breach me. Elrohir, please, do not deny me your loving.”

Stalling, Elrohir gently ran his hand down the archer's back, feeling the striped scabs that riddled his once near flawless flesh. Coming to Legolas' buttocks he realized there were not as many wounds thereon or on the back of his thighs. As he caressed the prince's limbs, Legolas eagerly parted them as best as he could. Elrohir's eyes gleamed.

“'Tis unwise to take you just yet,” he said. He quickly shushed Legolas' protest with a kiss. When the prince quieted he continued. “When you are truly hale, I will ride you as I please and ride you well, that I swear. But for now, you warrant gentle usage. However, I do not mean that naught can be done to ease your need. Do not forget that I have speared you before in other fashion.”

Still reeling in elation from Elrohir's promise, Legolas did not recall swiftly enough what act the younger twin referred to. Thus it was with a thrill that he watched the Elf-knight reverse his position. Lying on his side, he parted his legs slightly to permit Legolas to rest his head on his inner thigh. Doing likewise to Legolas, he scarcely gave the archer time to think before he clasped his hip, pulled him close and ran his tongue several times over his rigid shaft.

Legolas groaned then gave a soft cry when Elrohir took him into his mouth. Eagerly, he did the same, relishing the taste and feel of his spouse after so long a time. He happily curled his arm around Elrohir's hip to hold him steady while he hungrily drew upon him.

They thrust into each other's mouths in near unison, while their hands roamed over flushed flesh and sleek limbs. Mindful of Legolas' prior plea, Elrohir gently pulled the archer's legs further apart, slightly lifting the upper limb. He drew Legolas' hips closer, shifting the archer's upraised leg forward to rest on his shoulder. For a brief while he left off sucking the prince's shaft and, leaning in between Legolas' parted legs, teased the tender flesh he had exposed with his tongue before dipping into his mate repeatedly.

Legolas' rapturous moan told him of the archer's ecstasy. Elrohir grinned to himself. Ignoring Legolas' whimpered protest when he ceased his pillaging, he turned said protest to vociferous approval when he replaced his tongue with enough fingers to approximate the width of his shaft. Taking Legolas once more into his mouth, he continued to plunge his fingers deep into his mate's snug core.

Legolas unraveled completely at the simultaneous breaching by hand and shaft while Elrohir devoured his length. Almost sobbing in delight around his own mouthful of luscious flesh, he was left with just enough sentience to be grateful for Elrohir's resourcefulness. And then even that vanished as pleasure crested and surged across the channel that marked their binding. Pleasured three ways Legolas spent first, crying out as he spilled himself into Elrohir's mouth. Before his muscles had ceased to clench around the Elf-knight's embedded fingers, he felt Elrohir's shaft pulse. He savored every gorgeous drop of creamy seed, reveling in the younger twin's gasped groans as he was all but drank down.

Lost in a pleasant haze, he nestled in Elrohir's arms afterward. A delicious languor slowly seeped into his body and with a satisfied smile he settled down for a late morning nap.

“I hope 'twill be enough to stave off the nightmares,” Elrohir whispered against his hair.

“For now, my Elf-knight,” Legolas lazily replied. “But I demand you fulfill your pledge as soon as I am well enough. Just to ensure those dreams do not return.”

The last thing he heard before he slipped into serene oblivion was Elrohir's mirthful admiration of his indomitable spirit.

**********

Elladan silently pulled a chair close to Galvreth's bedside and seated himself on it. Though there were more than ample healers and nurses to help in the constant care of the prince, Elladan insisted on taking multiple shifts to watch over him. He and Elrohir were the comatose Elf's primary healers and Thranduil had given them carte blanche to decide on his son's treatment. Elladan in particular had been monitoring his progress, awaiting the moment when they could take him out of his induced healing sleep. It was an easy enough excuse at any rate and Elladan was not above using it to his advantage.

Not that he believed anything more would come of his vigilance. It was simply his desire to remain as close as he could to Galvreth afore he was forced to give him into another's care. Into the warm arms of the Elf the prince had chosen to ease his heartbreak over Elladan's refusal to take their relationship that one vital step further.

Elladan bit his lip and pulled the chair closer that he could peer into Galvreth's face. It would not be long now before the prince was taken from his care. He and Elrohir had agreed that it was time to permit Galvreth to awaken and they had ceased to further dose him with sedatives. The Elf's knees were still in casts but the twins were fairly confident they would mend well. With proper exercise, there was no reason to believe he would not be as mobile as before. His back was almost healed. Hideous scabs marked it from his nape to his buttocks but the wounds had neatly closed and time would reduce them to faint silvery scars. As for the most grievous injury of all…

The Elf-lord held fast to the belief that Galvreth was strong enough to withstand his violation. All his family and friends knew they would need to bolster the prince's self-worth in every possible way and show him naught but unfailing love and acceptance. And he and Elrohir would do their utmost to help him deal with the memories of his ordeal which were sometimes more lethal than the actual injuries themselves. Or at least Elrohir would do it, he thought.

Once Galvreth revived, he would have no place in the kingdom save as law-brother to one of its princes. He would have no reason to seek the argent-haired Elf out. He now belonged to Aewithen and she would not suffer another to infringe on the prize she had won but lately. Especially not a Peredhel who had caused her beloved such grief that he still held back parts of himself out of caution. This much he had learned from Elrohir who in turn had gleaned it from Legolas' elucidations.

Aewithen was not at all uncivil to the older twin. But neither was she warm with him and none could blame her, least of all Elladan. Because she was no healer she was not permitted to watch over Galvreth as frequently as she liked and certainly never alone for any length of time. Should some change for the worse in his condition occur, she would not know how to avert or slow it. That she envied Elladan's position as one of Galvreth's principal healers was apparent to all. But she took care not to appear hostile to the Imladrin Elf-lord. And, verily, there was no need for it when 'twas she who was duly recognized as the prince's lover.

Regret assailed him not for the last time and he silently cursed his misbegotten assumptions and his ill-founded adherence to them. His brother had been right. Only a fool would forego the greatest gift any creature of sense could hope for. He had proved himself a fool and, worse, had moved to make amends much too belatedly. He lifted his hand and tenderly stroked Galvreth's silvery locks. They were lacking in luster but still silky to the touch. He let them slide through his fingers, thinking how much he would miss touching the prince in so intimate a fashion.

So engrossed was he in his dolorous thoughts that he failed to mark the moment of Galvreth's awakening. Thus he was stunned when he shifted his gaze to the Elf's face and found himself staring into his brown eyes. They were still somewhat bleary from long sleep but altogether aware and questioning.

Collecting his wits, Elladan withdrew his hand in embarrassment. Acting intuitively, his first words were those of a healer. “Are you in pain?”

“Nay,” Galvreth replied a little hoarsely. “Only some… discomfort.”

“Eru be praised,” Elladan said, genuinely pleased. He quickly secured water for the prince and helped him down some to moisten his parched throat.

His eyes never leaving Elladan's face, Galvreth whispered through scarred lips: “You know what they… did to me?”

Elladan nodded, forcing back tears of renewed anger. “Elrohir and I have tended to your injuries,” he murmured. “You are healing well, Galvreth.”

The prince gazed at him, fear and pain in his eyes. “Healing mayhap… but will I be whole?” He trembled visibly beneath the cover. For a long while he did not speak and Elladan did not press him. At length he said, “I have faced death before and pain and fear. But never have I known such evil and cruelty.” He closed his eyes and paused to catch his breath, so agitated did he become at the mere memory of his ordeal. Elladan slipped a soothing arm around him. “I can still feel their rage… their savagery. I do not think I will ever forget… I cannot live with the remembrance of it.” The prince drew a shuddering breath. “Better that I had died, Elladan.”

“Nay!” Elladan exclaimed in alarm. He fought to calm his voice. “Would you have our joy in retrieving you be in vain?” he said with all urgency. “You would leave so many to grieve for you. Your father and brothers. Your friends and people. And there is Aewithen to consider.”

Galvreth's opened his eyes to stare at him. “Ah, so you know about her.”

“She has come here ever day and helped watch over you,” Elladan replied. “She is a tender soul and dotes on you as - as you deserve.” At this point, he dropped his eyes, unable to meet Galvreth's searching gaze. “It saddens me that what we shared is ended but if she can help you heal, if she can make you whole, then I will gladly step aside and make no trouble for the both of you. I rue our parting of ways but even more can I not bear to lose you to the timeless halls.”

“Elladan-”

“You can forget!” Elladan insisted. “I - she will help you. We all will. You can do this, Galvreth. Please, I beg you, do not give up on life.”

Before Galvreth could reply, a few healers entered the chamber with Aewithen in tow. While the healers expressed their pleasure at finding their prince awake and apparently in no great pain, the Elf-maid's mouth tightened disapprovingly when she saw Elladan's proximity to her lover. With a sigh, Elladan removed his arm and stood up. At once Aewithen took his place.

“My thanks, Lord Elladan,” she curtly said before turning to ply the prince with affectionate words and kisses.

Elladan did not attempt to discover Galvreth's response either to her cool demeanor toward him or her loving attention to the prince. Instead he headed for the door, saying over his shoulder to the healers: “I shall return when 'tis time to remove the casts.”

With that he hastened out lest any see the telltale streaks that marked his cheeks.

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

Glossary:

Necromancer - the name the Elves bestowed on the evil power inhabiting Dol Guldur before they learned it was Sauron returned

Aredhel - the sister of Fingon and Turgon, she dwelt with Turgon in Gondolin. Straying from the hidden city, she was ensnared by Eöl the Dark Elf and taken as his wife. She bore him a son, Maeglin. When Maeglin was full-grown they escaped together to Gondolin. Eöl followed them and attempted to slay Maeglin with a poisoned dart. In defense of her son, Aredhel took the dart and died of its poison.

Maedhros - eldest son of Fëanor who was captured by Morgoth through trickery. He was hung by his right wrist from the heights of Thangorodrim, until his cousin Fingon rescued him. To free him, Fingon was forced to cut off Maedhros' right hand.

Gwindor - a Prince of Nargothrond, the realm founded by Finrod Felagund. His rage at the mistreatment of his captive brother Gelmir started the first assault of the Noldor and Edain at the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. He was taken prisoner in that battle and crippled during his captivity. He later escaped and led Túrin Turambar to Nargothrond.

To be continued…
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Twilight Tales - An Ounce of Kindness