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In Darkness and In Doubt	By : ElvenDemagogue Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 7706 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Lord of the Rings book series and movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Thanks
for the reviews, guys! Sorry I
left you hanging for so long!
:X I appreciate the
reviews, so I guess I’d better act like it and post, eh? :)
*
“You are hurting.” Legolas made no move to reply, merely lay
on the calm, cool grass beneath the moonlight. Galadriel smoothed his blond hair back from his sweating
brow, her eyes intent upon his face.
“Will you refuse me once more, little one?”
The Prince of Mirkwood dared open his
eyes to gaze upon the shadowy form.
She had removed her cloak and now knelt beside him, clad in dull
white. Her golden hair tumbled
around her shoulders and her eyes were ever piercing. During the night she violated him with her darkness, forced
her black mind against his in a contest of wills he knew he must someday
lose. He could already feel it
happening. The realization made
his face crumble into hatred.
“Yes! I will refuse you
again!” he hissed, his energy quickened by his fury. “As I ever shall, even until the day I fall dead at your
feet!”
Galadriel laughed, a soft laugh that
was soothing, if not motherly. He
knew her power had been great long ago.
She had been counted among the wisest. But now he saw what that power could become when converted
to terrible purpose. She was
vicious, lustful of her own ability and far surer of herself than he. He closed his eyes as she trailed her
hand down his cheek, then curved up to trace his ear. “Tell me, who are you, child?”
She knew his name, knew his courage,
but he never answered anything beyond, “I am Legolas, son of Thranduil. A Prince of Mirkwood.”
“You are Legolas, Elf of many names,”
she replied, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Do you know your destiny?”
His jaw tightened. “Aye, I know it.” Legolas swallowed, looking hazily at
the trees. “To become weary of
this place and accept the Halls of Mandos. To be separated from all I love.”
Galadriel did not seem surprised by his
answer, only amused. He could feel
her searching his memory again, sifting through his thoughts as if they were no
more than sand through her fingers.
Now and then he caught a glimpse of the other side, of her intentions
and thoughts. It frightened him,
the power she sought after. “You
are Legolas, he who will defeat the Kingdom
of Men. You will do this for me.”
His sudden laughter was sharp, devoid
of true mirth. “I will do nothing
for you but die.”
“You will die,” she agreed, sadness
coming over her gaze. “Naked and
alone. But not until you have
served me. I see the words Elrond
has poisoned you with. Accept
death, for he fears you will grow powerful if you live and serve me. Elrond is no fool.”
Legolas inhaled deeply, closing his
eyes. “He would have me die, that
I might not lose myself to your witchery.
I am not that na�ve, Lady Galadriel.”
For a time she said nothing, content to
stroking his forehead and face until he was quite nearly lulled into
sleep. Then, just on the very
edges of unconsciousness, he heard her whisper, “You are more na�ve than you
would suppose.” He dragged his
eyes open to stare at her through half-lidded curiosity. “What do you think Elrond says when he
pens a letter to King Aragorn?”
“I will not entertain your musings,”
Legolas replied without hesitation.
“You seek to poison me with doubts against my ally.”
The wise woman looked down on him
patiently. “You will learn in time
that all you think you know of your allies and enemies may be false.” Her fingers toyed with his hair. “Until then I will content myself with
gaining your loyalty with fear.”
Legolas narrowed his eyes at her. He pulled his hair out of her fingers
and turned away. Her fingers
traced one of the blade marks down his naked back. “I fear nothing.”
“Not even the suffering of your Saralonde?” The Prince of Mirkwood closed his eyes,
unable to bring voice to his questions, yet curious beyond his reckoning. She would sense that, he knew. She answered him quickly enough. “The longer you remain without power,
the more she will suffer. She has
been violated physically, but tomorrow that will change. Tomorrow she will be alone and
vulnerable, her spirits broken after a brutal rape. Then I will come and show her how to let go of the sorrow
and fear.”
Legolas pulled himself up, gasping as
he came to a sitting position. His
head spun a moment and he felt her hand on his shoulder, steadying him. “Do not go to her! You will not take her heart as you
fight to take mine!”
Galadriel brushed his hair off his
shoulder, her eyes hungry. She was
closing in on him, having spotted his weakness. Licking her lips, she came closer, hissing, “Then give your
allegiance to me!” Her mind
touched his, urging softly that he obey.
“Then I will spare her grace from the shadow of my darkness.”
His blue eyes hit the grass, wide and
afraid, hopeless. He could seize
her right now, wrestle her in his weakness and call down the wrath of Haldir,
who waited to kill him if he posed a threat. He could escape, but then Saralonde would be lost. “What must I do?” he asked low, unable
to see anything but dark hair and hazel eyes in his mind’s eye.
“Open yourself to me. Do not fight when I come into your
mind,” she answered easily, as if it were nothing at all.
“Will you keep her from being harmed?”
was his next question, lower than the last. He knew what was happening. He knew the Captain of Lothl�rien was hurting her. “Will you stop Boromir?”
“It is not Boromir that must be
stopped.” She considered, then
shook her head. His stomach
muscles clenched when she said, “Law. O i-sul agarwaen he sogatha. Ha boe.” He glared, wanting to ask why, but her patience had run
thin. Galadriel’s voice
hardened. “Man no l�n amarth?”
“Boe anim nautho,” he replied low,
knitting his brow.
She stood up from him, her chin raised
and her eyes lowered upon him. He
suddenly felt as weak as a babe under her age-old gaze. “Avoram no l�n taeg. Nai lu pedathach lin manadh. Navaer, Caun o Mirkwood.”
The Shadow stalked past her sneering
hound. Haldir fixed a firm,
contemptuous gaze on Legolas a moment, most likely considering what would
happen were he to kill the prince and falsely claim he attacked. Galadriel had warned him the
Marchwarden was a danger, for he did not like the Sindar at all. Someday he would let his hatred of the
woodland Elves bring him to an act of murder against his queen’s wishes. Haldir seemed to guess his thoughts,
smiling before he trailed after the Shadow Queen, leaving Legolas alone.
He pulled his manacled ankle, testing
the strength of the steel that bound him.
There would be no escape for him.
Gazing at the towering trees, trying to see through their expansive
leaves, he whispered, “Elbereth, Gilthoniel, tegi im na i forn tar. Im uchened.”
*
She was alone—a fact she was very
grateful for. Saralonde lay on her
stomach, naked and sore. She
considered staying in bed for the breadth of the day, but the idea of seeing
Boromir again sickened her. The
mere thought of him brought to her feelings of anger and despair. Seeing him could usher in her own
death, for she knew right now she could not withhold her desire for vengeance. Even now the thought of Legolas did not
threatening to calm her down. She
wanted to tell herself it was over, there was no hope and that she may as well
die defending her honor, but for the small voice of reason within.
So Saralonde brought herself up,
stretching tired muscles as she sought for anything to wear. Upon his dresser she saw several folded
pieces of cloth in a few colors.
Dresses. She glared at them
scornfully, but knew there was no way around it. Selecting one of dark blue, hoping to conceal herself within
the shadows as much as possible, she clothed herself, trying to ignore the
places on her body that ached.
Raking a pretty Elvish brush he had
provided through her hair, she looked at herself quickly, then left the Captain
of Lorien’s rooms, hoping to remain lost for the remainder of the day and the
night, ie coe could help it. It
was mid-morning and despite herself, she was hungry, but absolutely would not
appear at the King’s table.“What can I do?” she said softly, more
to herself than expecting any answer.
“Nothing,” Arwen replied, turning as
Pippin came into the glade with a tea tray. As soon as he set it down, the Noldor took a cup and began
silently back towards the forest, not bothering to say a farewell or
anything. Suddenly Saralonde felt
that much more desperate to be out of here.
“What’s wrong with her?” she asked the
Hobbit, who watched sadly.
Pippin seemed a little hesitant to say,
but her pleading look won him over.
“He cursed her with his darkness.
Sunlight and starlight burn her now.”
Faramir laughed, then gripped her wrist
and squeezed hard. “Well, I happen
to enjoy fucking girls that don’t want it so that they understand what they
are.” Watching her face, he
twisted her arm quick and she couldn’t help but scream and claw at his pants
with her other hand. “Does that
hurt, you little slut? I’ll make
it so painful you’ll love when it is only Boromir fucking you.”
“Stop this!” she yelled, sending his
fist into his unguarded stomach.
It got him to stop, but when he released her nearly numb arm she knew it
would only get worse. Fear surged through
her at his angry eyes as she realized this very well could be it. He was uncaring enough to kill her, she
had no doubt, Boromir’s wishes be damned.
He was going to get what he was after and would hurt her in the process.
He sent his fist into her lip and she
tasted blood. Her eyes fluttered
shut as the pain took over her senses.
Faramir hit her again a few times, then stopped a moment as her head
spun. “I had these made for a girl
back in Rohan. Got them out for
you, love. Feel special?”
She heard something push into the dirt
above her on either side, then she moaned as he jerked the arm he had twisted
up, throwing it back to the ground.
A wire cord was placed around her wrist, then tightened. He was tying her down with stakes in
the ground, she realized in horror as he brought the other one up. She pulled against the wire and
whimpered when it pressed into her flesh without any slack. “It’s going to cut my wrists,” she
said, knowing he would probably be violent.
“What do I care?” was his reply, cold
and unfeeling. Faramir got off
her, gripping her dress and ripping it down the center, shoving the fabric open
until she was bare. Then he stood
and paced above her a moment, watching her fight against her bonds. Saralonde jerked hard when his foot
crashed into her hip, bruising it.
Her wrists were rubbed raw against the wires holding her down.
Faramir sneered at her, undoing his
belt and opening his pants. “You
know what I care about? Hmm?” He knelt down, running his hand up her
thigh. “I care about getting what
I want. That is all.” Digging his nails into her skin, he
jerked her legs apart and moved between them. Her thigh burned from the scratches. When he lowered himself down, he gave a
quick, hard shove that made her squirm against the pain of her unready body
being used that way. The wires dug
into her wrists as she writhed and whimpered.
He groaned his pleasure at her
movements as he began a rapid, hard rhythm that burned until she was sure blood
made his passage easier. She felt nauseated
and tears burned her vision. She
stopped fightit cot completely, praying for the end to come swiftly. In this state she could not even bring
herself to think of Legolas or draw hope from the prospect of seeing him again.
“That’s right, lady, you just
relax. It will over soon,” he
soothed, brushing his hand down from her face into her hair. He gripped her head and forced her to
lie still beneath an invasive kiss, his mouth plunging into hers, demanding
entrance. His tongue smoothed
across hers hungrily as he rocked hard into her hips, groaning with
satisfaction.
She moaned in pain, shivering hard
beneath him, her body so tense she feared letting go. In response, mistaking her noises for pleasure, he
instinctively grasped her breast, rubbing up, then pinching her upraised
center. She flinched away from the
touch and he grew more insistent, pinching harder.
“Such soft skin,” he murmured, moving
his lips from her mouth to her ear, biting at her earlobe. He panted in her ear and the sound was
nse,nse, filling her with the sound of it. He felt so heavy against her, so imposing a presense as he
pleasured himself without regard.
Each hard thrust jerked her wrists, cutting her flesh and pulling the
arm he had injured. She yelled out
several times, but he paid no mind as he assaulted her.
He was coming close, she could
sense. He started losing control
of his voicings, moving erratically until with a final jerk, he fell on
her. For long moments Saralonde
simply lay there, catching her breath, trying to discern between the fact that
he was motionless and the throbbing.
His hand came against her hip, petting softly as he whispered, “Good
girl.”
Saralonde closed her eyes, feeling him
rip the stakes from the ground.
She couldn’t even move her arms for fear of the pain movement would
cause. “Get up,” he breathed,
pulling himself from her body. The
thought of getting up was unthinkable.
He grunted and grabbed her arms, yanking at her. “Back to being a
defiant little bitch, I see.”
He pulled her to her feet and she fell
against him, hurting from the violence he had done upon her. Faramir shoved her away, letting her
fall to the earth before giving her a warning look. On shaky legs she fought her way to her feet, trying to
remain strong and not give in to her despair. But>But it was fast bearing down on her. If he held a knife to her throat she
would not fight death.
Faramir jerked her dress shut, then
drew his hood, taking her arm and pulling her along. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice hoarse from her
screams.
“To Boromir’s.” His voice was unreadable.
She wondered what would happen
then. Would Boromir be there? Would he be angry with his
brother? She privately hoped he
would be infuriated, but what if he took it out on her? Faramir led her through the forest a
long way until they came to a stair, which he forced her up. Each step caused her pain, but she bore
it silently, unwilling to ever let him force her voice again.
As it was, the stairs were not far from
Boromir’s apartment. Faramir
entered without knocking, dragging her along. Once de hde he called, “Boromir?” There was no reply.
Her heart sank as the younger of the two jerked her towards the
bedroom. If he raped her again…
They passed the bed and went for the
bathroom, where closed the door.
Taking down his hood, he looked her over. “Need me to take your dress off for you?”
“Please don’t do this again,” she said
in a low, hard tone, not looking up into his face. She waited for him to hit her.
He did and she stumbled back. Taking advantage of her, he grabbed the
garment and forced it down her shoulders, then balled it up, tossing it to the
floor. Retreating to a nearby
towel rack, he pulled a dark blue cloth from the folded pile and dipped it in a
bowl of fresh water at the sink.
Then he threw it at her, crossing his arms as she whimpered when she
jerked her sore arm to catch it.
“Wash up.”
Saralonde looked at him a moment, then
turned away, rubbing the rag along her bleeding lip. It was pleasantly silent as she cleansed herself of the
blood and sweat, the evidence of his climax. He said nothing at all, but she knew he was watching. She heard several intakes of air, as if
he were enjoying this. When she
tossed the rag to the floor, he drained the sink and picked it and the dress
up. Taking her hand, he pulled her
back into the bedroom and picked up one of her dresses off the dresser. “Put it on,” he ordered, watching her. “This time face me while you do it.”
Eager to hide herself from his vision,
she did as she was told. He looked
her over appraisingly, the gripped her shoulder, pulling her close. “Fix your hair, love. Then when that beast of a brother of
mine returns, you make sure you keep your mouth shut or I won’t be the last to
fuck you like that.” He squeezed
her hard. “You understand me,
whore? Don’t say a word and if he
asks what happened to you, you’re gonna be a good girl and lie to him, won’t
you?”
“Why should I lie for you?” she hissed,
her brow knit.
He backhanded her, but held her up from
the fall. “Because if he finds out
it was me, I swear you will wish you had just lived with it. Remember, love, all it takes is a
momelonelone and I can take you to a whole garrison of soldiers that haven’t
had the pleasure of a lady’s company in weeks. Understand?”
When she refused to reply he hit her again. “Understand?”
Wanting him away, Saralonde nodded and
breathed a sigh of relief when he let her go. He looked her over, then departed, leaving her alone with
the knowleof wof what had just taken place. When she heard the door shut, she sank to the floor and
buried her face in her hands. Her
shoulders shook as she wept hard, lamenting the abuse, the life that had been
ripped away from she and Legolas.
She cried because she knew Boromir would come and further her shame, because
she knew Legolas would die here away from his homeland.
An hour passed before she fell asleep
there on the floor.
*
Law.
O i-sul agarwaen he sogatha. Ha
boe. Man �n a�n amarth? – No. From the goblet bloodstained she will
drink. It must be. What is your choice (doom)?

Boe anim nautho. – I must consider.
Lit. It is necessary for me
to think.

Avoram no l�n taeg.&; Farewell, Prince of Mirkwood.

Elbereth, Gilthoniel, tegi nin na i forn tar. Im uchened. – Elbereth, star-kindler, lead me to the right
path. I’m lost (without-sight).

Daedhil – Shadow Elves. (dae + edhel)
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In Darkness and In Doubt