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The Fallen	By : ElvenDemagogue Category: Lord of the Rings Movies > Het - Male/Female Views: 2718 -:- 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
- 1-The Fallen
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-Five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-Eight
- 3
- 4
- 5
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*
By morning the torch had burned out, leaving them in complete black. In fact only his breath, slowed in the
rhythm of sleep betrayed that Boromir was still with her. She took an odd sort of unwelcome
comfort from the fact. Rubbing her
stomach, she dangled her feet over the edge of her cot and wondered how long
they would be kept down here in this dark little hole before someone came to
feed them. If anyone bothered,
that was. After last night she
didn’t have the impression that Legolas would care for her comforts unless she
displayed some sort of submission and that was out of the question.
Vana sighed and tried in vain to make something out in the complete absence
of light, but there was nothing she could do. It was so utterly black it was as if she were blind and for
an instant she felt her blood rush at the very idea. Wrapping her arms around herself in the chill, she reflected
that this was nothing like the tales of old. No one wrote about the minute-by-minute boredom of being
trapped in a dark dungeon with nothing to do. It was going to be a long day, but she just couldn’t sleep
anymore.
Standing up, she paced a little and found it wasn’t much more entertaining
than sitting. In her room she
could peer out the window at the trees, the crimson and amethyst night skye
se
stars. There had been some few
books for her to read and even a quill with parchment in the vanity. She could see herself, see where she
was going, sleep comfortably and wash her face. Here there was nothing. Nothing except Boromir.
Glaring in his general direction, Vana wanderewardwards his side of her
cell, trying to determine how far away he was. Listening to his steady breathing, she noted that he was not
very far away at all. In fact, if
she just reached her hand in… He
stirred when she hit against his forehead with her hand, having been moving it
without regard for distance or speed.
In an instant his hand flew up, grasping at her wrist. “Just what do you think you are doing?”
he asked tartly, tossing her arm back.
She hissed when it hit the bar and drew it back, rubbing the pain out of her
flesh. “I was trying to see where
you were,” she responded matter-of-factly, looking through the darkness to
where she imagined his face was.
She didn’t know why, but it seemed so natural.
“I have no weapons, unfortunately.
Nothing but the clothes on my back.” There was a humored note to his voice. “They are dirty, blood-caked and
masculine, but if you’re inclined to steal something I’d allow you to remove
them from my person if you could.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Rolling her
eyes, she stomped towards her cot, hitting her leg and groaning. “You insult me.”
Boromir yawned expansively. “I
insult a lot of people. Why should
you be immune?”
Vana rubbed her shin, shaking her head at his complete lack of manners. How he could be so rude she could imagimagine,
but to think that his father had not been very zealous in teaching his sons how
to behave. “You’re impossible,”
she said in accusatory tones.
“Estel truly is a singular example among your race.”
“Really?” the Steward mused.
“And do you know enough of my people to say such a thing or do you
measure me as their example?”
Sniffing derisively, Vana straightened her skirts out, knowing the gesture
was futile, but eager to do anything but sit here with nothing to do. “I’ve seen enough of your kind to know
most of you are pigs. You are
filthy, disgusting, rude animals.”
Boromir laughed at that and she found herself more irritated. “And you, my dear Elf, are an assuming
little bitch. Perhaps that is why
I enjoy these little so-called conversations.” He hummed a moment, sounding speculative. “Perhaps enjoy is too strong a
word. I haven’t slapped you, that
should count for something, anyway.”
“Is that what makes you feel powerful, Steward?” she asked acidly. “Hitting women? If yould uld like to try, by all means
I welcome the attempt.”
She heard him chuckle at that.
“No, my lady. I only
deliver what is due a woman or a man, based on principle, not
enjoyment. What put such a tongue
on you, anyway? Did you have a
lover that strayed from you to a gentler maiden?”
Shivering in the dark, she rubbed her arms and smirked, looking down,
imagining she could see her toes wiggle before her. “What?”
Boromir was merciless as he moved to a sitting position. His voice sounded closer, clearer. “Would you like to see your Lord Elrond
naked, laying on a bed in heat, waiting for you to fuck him?”
Startled, Vana stumbled through an answer. an>&an>“N-no. My
relationship with him is professional, I assure you.”
“Ah, but this is not about what is, but what could be if you could have
anything you wished,” he retorted.
“What’s your point?” she asked sharply, annoyed by this line of questioning.
He exhaled a quick breath. “My
point is that for all your talk about sophistication and kindness, you probably
would not even consider giving yourself to a man like that. I think you like your men just as dirty
and rude as you are.”
Vana stared in his general direction incredulously. “You really are a pig. Any girl would count herself lucky to
catch the eye of Elrond of Imladris.
As long as we are on the subject, from what walk of life do you select
your companionship? Local
whorehouse?”
Boromir laughed at that. “And
here I thought Elves did not even know what a whore was.” He laughed some more, admitting, “I
have met a few whores worth talking to.
Strange, you remind me of a few of them.”
Her eyes blazed furiously, an effect she was sorry he could not see. “You go beyond your bounds,” she warned
him, wishing she had access to her bow.
He did not seem fazed by her anger.
“And you went beyond yours with your little suggestion.&1;He sighed, moving around in the dark. “What does it matter, anyway? Our arguments are likely to be the last
things either of us hear or speak of.
Prince Legolas is mad and will see us both darkened or killed.”
“Do you think it will go that far?” she asked with a sigh, feeling this new
conversation physically draining.
She rested her elbows on her knees and rubbed her face.
Boromir grunted, then started pacing.
He stopped somewhere near her side. “I think if it can, it will. He has no mercy left.
Do you have the dreams?”
She looked up quickly, instinctively, startled by the question. But when she thought about it, it
seemed perfectly natural. Of
course she would not be the only one having the dreams. Her eyes widened as something else
occurred to her. “I have. Boromir, Eldarion…”
The Steward remained silent in thought, then spoke up gravely. “He may be a quick child, but he is
young. He will be
impressionable. Perhaps this is
more serious than I first thought.
Aragorn could well save him just to be killed by his own son’s hand
later on. Then Sauron woulde
ce
control of Gondor.”
Vana shook her head, unwilling to even comprehend such a thing. “No, Eldarion must still have a
chance. He cannot be so quickly
turned as that. Impressionable he
may be, but he is a child.
Surely he cannot understand enough to be dangerous. He knows his father loves him.”
“Yes, but consider a moment.
Legolas is far older than the prince and he knew the love of his
people. And my people,” he
added with a sour grunt. “Eldarion
may not understand now, but it is a foothold in the door. And there is not a force on this planet
that can convince Aragorn to be wary of his own child. Damn it. There is nothing we can do, either.”
“What would you do if you could?” she asked with a frown. She didn’t like the way Boromir was
thinking. “Kill the child without
knowing for sure?”
His reply was bitter and harsh.
“Of course not! Damn you,
woman, you would think that, wouldn’t you? No, I would not kill the child, but that would not mean I
would be blind to the possibilities, either. What would your Lord Elrond council?”>
He asked in a tone of cynicism, but his question was challenging and he knew
it. They both knew what Elrond
would council. Caution. Watchfulness. Vana felt a wellworrworry open up in her midsection. Rubbing absently, she thought of Arwen,
how she adored her son. It was the
only son she and Aragorn would ever have, Elrond had foreseen. She knit her brow stubbornly. Eldarion had such noble blood. He could not be so easily overthrown as
Boromir seemed to fear. They had
to get him out of here at any cost.
Lost in her thinking, she had forgotten about Boromir and he mistook her
silence for stubbornness. “We both
know what he would council, Vana.
It would trouble me to see Eldarion so used by the darkness, but it would
be better that he be carefully watched than for Sauron to gain a stronghold in
Gondor.”
“So what do you suggest we do?” she asked quietly, crossing her ankles
together and biting her lip.
His answer reflected the emptiness within her. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if we can do anything just now.”
She took a thoughtful breath, not really sure what to say. The door opening on the other side of
the prison took away any need for her to respond. She looked up, closing her eyes halfway at the brightness of
the torchlight, meager as it was.
It left behind shadows as it approached, illuminating the form of Prince
Legolas. He came before them,
standing somewhere between the two cells, taking in his prisoners. He looked to Bor cor coldly, troubled
as if anticipating a hard time. It
occurred to her that during the course of their stay Legolas had been busy at
work trying to extract information from the stubborn Steward.
When his eyes came to her they softened and she looked away. She hated being under such a look;
didn’t understand it. It was as if
he was trying to see through her and she didn’t like feeling so nakedore ore
him. She didn’t like that he
seemed to know how naked she felt.
Despite his eyes on her it was Boromir he addressed. “Three days you have been hungry, Lord
Boromir. Are you ready to tell me
what I wish to know?”
The Steward grunted, wandering towards the front of the cell. “Tell me, Elf,” he hissed dangerously,
“are you ready to let me out so you can face me like a real man?”
A smile wound its way along the lips of the Prince of Ithilien. “I thought you would respond in that
way. In fact I was hoping you
would.” His dark eyes flickered to
Vana, then back again. “Perhaps
harming you is not the avenue to your submission. Tell me, would you react so boldly if the threat were upon
another?”
Boromir seemed a trifle less certain than he had been before, but did not
back down. “You are a true
bastard, Elf. But you
miscalculated.”
“In what way?” Legolas asked as if not believing it.
The Steward shrugged. &0;In0;In
thinking harming her would actually work.
Do as you will to either of us.
I shall not breathe a word against my country or my king.”
The Elf of Mirkwood glared a moment, but did not allow the malicious intent
to fade from his expression. He
nodded slowly, then moved to a small ring in the wall where he put his
torch. Reaching at the side of his
belt Legolas removed a key and headed towards her cell. Vana steeled herself for a fight,
unwilling to go without defending herself. The key slid into the lock and it clicked loudly, filling
her with dread. Boromir was
horribly silent as this occurred.
Legolas entered with a firm intent, heading for her in a straightforward way
that did not hold mercy. She
peered around him, looking for any way to escape and darted to his left towards
the cell openispanspan style="mso-spacerun: yes"> He caught her
around the waist, wheeling her around until they were face to face. He drew his hand back and slapped her
hard, knocking her to her knees.
She didn’t waste time on pain, pulling herself up and making a dart for
the cell. She ran out, seeking
anything she could use for a weapon.
There was a table of old knives used in the torment of slaves across the
way. She headed for it as fast as
her feet could carry her.
He was right on top of her in no time and before she knew it something
crashed into her side, knocking the breath from her lungs. She collapsed in terrible pain and
looked up, seeing him stand above her with the torch that had burnt out last
night. “Silly girl,” he chided,
drawing it up. It hit her cheek
hard, causing her to see stars as she hit the floor. She barely even felt it as he put his hands on her, drawing
her up to her feet. “If you fall
unconscious on me now I will have to beat you,” he warned, forcing her to
stumble through the dim to a table stained with blood.
A hand came to the back of her throat, pushing her down hard and pain jolted
through her head. She pressed her
hands to the wood, trying to get up, but that one blow had taken a lot out of her. Waves of dizziness crashed through her,
masking all else until she felt the cool air on her skin as he pushed her
skirts up. A wave of shock
thrilled through her, sobering her as she realized he meant to rape her in
front of Boromir. Her skin reddened
as the hand of the prince came along her behind, caressing in a relentless
way. “Leave me alone!” she hissed,
shoving herself up.
Legolas laughed darkly and shoved her back down. “You embarrass yourself,” he told her harshly, kicking at
her ankles. She held herself still
against his attack, not allowing him access though his hard boots pained
her. Drawing herself back up, she
darted away and was caught by the nightgown she wore. Legolas gripped the filmy fabric hard, giving it a tug. “Run,” he whispered against her hair,
bunching it into his hands. “Run
and it will rip. I think Boromir
would appreciate the view.”
Drawinr arr arm up, she threw her elbow into his stomach and jerked herself
nearly free as he doubled over with a groan. But his grip was firm.
He held tight to the gown, using it to throw her off balance. She stumbled back and he gripped her
arm, turning her to face him.
Immediately he backhanded her with a vicious expression, hissing, “You
little bitch!” He hit her again
and she fell back at the terrible strength. He straddled over her, reaching for her wrists even as she
struggled to keep away. “So, you
would deny me? Very well, love, if
you will not let me fuck you between your legs then I will find other means.”
“No!” she growled as he pulled her wrists down to her sides, using his knees
to pin them. She struggled hard as
he looked down, the shadows and torchlight dancing on his face and hair. He pulled his belt open, then worked at
the strings holding his pants closed, freeing himself of their bonds. Turning her head, she bit her bottom
lip and tried to stop this from happening, but he was so insistent.
“Open your pretty mouth, whore,” he breathed, forcing her face up. He was not gentle, holding her so she
could not breathe until at last she could no longer keep her lips apart. And as soon as she drew her first
breath Legolas took advantage of it.
His passage was swift and deep, salty as his warm midsection covered
her. His clothes fell upon her
face, blocking out nearly all the light and nearly smothered her as he rested
on her. The weight on her hands
was gone, but she could not get him off of her now no matter how hard she
tried. Her nails dug at the floor
as he pulled up, then pushed back down into her throat, beginning a fast rhythm
meant for his pleasure alone and without mercy.
The sounds of her own whimpers filled her ears, as did his pleasured groans
and terrible whisperings. Each
moment seemed to drag on without any sign he was coming close to his climax. She wasn’t sure if that was a good
thing or not, for she had no desire to taste the result of his desire, nor to
hear Boromir’s comments when this was done. Yet soon enough she could taste more of him, could sense the
erratic movements as he drove forward into her throat. When it came it was fast and
unavoidable. Vana closed her eyes
as he groaned his last, then rolled off to the side, fixing his pants. Tears she did not even know were there
slipped past her eyelids down into her hair. Legolas sat up and noticed them, reaching down to wipe her
face dry. “Remember this,
Vana. This came about because of
his disobedience. Tell me the
things I want to know if you know them and spare yourself this pain in the
future.”
Wiping at her lips, avoiding his eyes as she sat up, she retorted, “This
came about because of your weakness!
I would not tell you if Sauron himself were here tormenting me!”
Legolas nodded once, then drew back his arm and sent her to the floor with a
massive stroke. Her head buzzed
and her ears rang from the impact.
As the fallen Elf drew her into his arms she paid no attention, content
to allow hi do do as he would.
There was not much worse he could do under present circumstances. She closed her eyes as the torchlight
grew brighter, causing her head to spin.
Unlocking a cell door, the Elven prince put her to her feet and shoved her
in, growling, “Care for her,” then locking the door again quickly. From her knees Vana saw Boromir rush
past from where he had been sitting as if to try and overpower Legolas, but he
was too late.
“Damn you, Elf,” he growled, hitting the bars. “You just wait.
One moment is all I need and you will see the Halls of Mandos.”
There was an amused laugh that departed quickly. A slam at the end of the hall signified that they were now
alone. Vana was not sure what to
do, whether she wanted to move or just to remain where she was. When Boromir’s boots came into view,
she looked down and decided to find a nice corner of his cell to sit in and
avoid him. He stopped before her,
kneeling down and reaching for her chin.
Upon seeing her expression his hardened. “Don’t,” he said simply, his stormy eyes penetrating hers as
he drew her chin up.
Vana glared and pulled her face away.
“Don’t what?” she asked, pushing his shoulder as he grabbed her arms,
forcing her to stand. “Do you
mind?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t mind,” he responded, holding her tight and
drawing her to his cot. He put his
hands to her shoulders and forced her to sit, ignoring her glare and her crossed
arms. “As for the other, I mean
don’t you dare allow him to win.
As much as it pains me to admit, I more than likely am going to need you
by the end of this if I’m to escape, and I’ll not have you wallowing in
shame. Have your cry and get it
over with so we can speak of more important things.”
“What makes you think I need to cry?” she asked him, forcing herself to keep
her eyes on his.
Boromir shrugged, eyeing her cheek.
“Suit yourself, but if I find you hiding your eyes again or looking
sorry for yourself I’ll make you cry it all out.”
Drawing away from him with a frosty-eyed look, Vana shook her head in
surprise at his coldness. “You
really are a heartless son of a bitch.”
He reached for her chin, slapping away her fingers when she attempted to
push him away. His thumb traced
away some blood that had come from her lip. “Not really.
Harsh, but not heartless.
If we were in Minas Tirith I would leave you be for years with this hurt
in your heart if you so enjoyed pain, but here neither of us has the
luxury.” His eyes moved to
hers. “Understand, Elf, that to
falter now will get you killed as well as me and Eldarion. I’ll not leave you to suffer alone, but
if I must carry your burdens with you then we will surely fail in standing
against his will. Sauron will see
your shame and your hurt and use it to draw you into his darkness.”
Vana bit her bottom lip, looking into his eyes, seeking any reason to revile
him for his words, but she could see none. He was right.
Anything she hid in her heart would be used as a weapon against
her. Unbidden two pools of tears
came to her eyelids, but she fought like a demon to keep them from
spilling. She had so many things
on her mind she knew not of what to speak, how she could even begin to unravel
her growing despair, but she knew she could not hold it in. To be rid of it would be to think
clearly. So she whispered without
thought, “What has happened to this world?”
Boromir rested his hand against her shoulder and she turned her face, wiping
at the tears that disobeyed her will.
He gave her skin a warm squeeze, saying softly, “The same thing that has
been happening for ages. Your
leaders would have you think you are immune…”
Sharply she pushed him away, glaring angrily as he watched her in
surprise. “We’re not immune, but
neither are we so weak as…”
“Weak as whom?” he retorted hotly, waving a hand impatiently. “Damn you Elves and your
self-righteousness! This happened
because one of your kind could not hide himself from the despair that Sauron
spreads. He thought he could
overcome, but he was wrong! If you
do not respect the power…”
“Respect the power!?” Vana’s
eyes widened incredulously. “Never
make the mistake that an Elf is so foolish as…”
“Legolas?” he supplied cynically, challenging her with his expression. He held up a forestalling hand, then
ran it through his auburn hair.
“We are getting nowhere with this.
If you want the truth, I donR und understand any of it either. I thought he would hold Minas Ithil
against the enemy, I seI see my faith proven just as ill as yours. Does that please you?”
She looked away from him then, tracing the floor with her eyes. “Of course not,” she replied dimly,
feeling that well of despair rise in her n. She inched away from him, then lay down on the cot, curling
her legs away from him as much as possible. “I think I should rest.”
Boromir pulled himself up and off with an exhale, wandering towards the
front of the cell. “I think that
would be a good idea.”
Vana squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep away the images of what had
happened, trying to close her ears to the sounds Boromir made as he paced
quietly. Sleep did not come
easily.
*
Her eyes were very worried and it pained him. From the moment of her birth he had known this path she
chose would be mired by pain and sorrow even alongside love and joy. She was right. Some things were indeed certain. As certain as the duty before him. Lord Elrond clasped his daughter’s hand
in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
She tried to smile, but he knew well she could not hide completely her
fear and sorrow. When she was a
child it had been so simple. He
could take her hand and make it better, but now things were quite a bit more
difficult. Yet he refused to give
up hope in trying. “Eldarion
endures, Arwen. The future is
uncertain, but this I know. I will
go to Legolas as he bid and do what is necessary to retrieve my grandson.” He could not hide the note of steel in
his tone when he said the last.
“Be safe, Ada,” she said softly, concern and gratitude written in her
luminous eyes. She looked past him
at the force he took with him, then stepped back to allow him leave. “Hannon le.”

(Thank you.)
Beside her stood her husband, looking very anxious and frustrated. Elrond could well imagine what was
going on within the King of Gondor’s heart. The desire to be the one to go would be strong, but this
mission was far too dangerous to spare him. He had, in truth, been ready to leave upon receiving the note
from the Prince of Mirkwood declaring “news of Eldarion” but it was Elrond
himself that had stopped him, counseling against such a foolhardy choice. But he knew well the turmoil. He himself had been the one to remain
behind when his people dwelt in Rivendell’s safety, but now that they battled
there was little haven to spare, even for one such as he. If Legolas had fallen he would not
respond to any man, but would need a firm, guiding hand in returning to the
grace that once he had. Or, if it
came to being unable to recover him, then he was owed no less than the farewell
of one who knew him personally. Aragorn
could not kill his friend. Elrond
would be hard-pressed, but he could do what was needed, as he ever had since
the beginning of Sauron’s reign.
He inhaled the crisp, wet air and looked to Aragorn gravely. “I will go where you cannot this time,
Estel. I will reclaim your son. I ask that you care for my daughter in
my stead.”
Aragorn nodded his head once, placing his arm around Arwen’s shoulders. “Hannon le,” he whispered, his voice
carrying the weight of his worries.
“May the Valar protect you, Elrond.”
“May they protect us all,” Elrond returned, taking to his horse. He mounted and looked again upon his
family once more, then turned away, leading what Men Aragorn had chosen to
follow him. Though the Prince of
Ithilien’s letter had every intention of friendship, there was beneath his words
a certain undertone that Elrond feared.
In truth he did not think this meeting was going to go well. Especially if Legolas had been
responsible for this kidnapping.
The noonday sun was high and obscured by the gray clouds, weather that
furthered the ills of Elrond’s heart.
He lamented the fall of the land just as he lamented the fall of young
prince he knew must now be all but unreachable. But he held firm to hope, knowing all would fall to ruin if
it was abandoned.
*
The night sky was purple, deep and royal. At her feet was a white stone path and surrounding her were
walls of green leaves. Water wept
from the clouds closing in above her, gently as a mother’s tears. The winds stirred petals of crimson along
the garden pathway, beckoning her forward. Closing her arms around her, Vana stepped into the maze of
hedge and stone, seeking that which pulled to her.
It was night but there was somehow a source of light that did not allow
anything to remain hidden. As she
walked her hair became heavy with rain, her pristine white clothes hugging her
curves in an immodest fashion. Yet
somehow it did not seemed to matter.
What drove her was the path, the end of the maze, and what she would
find there. She knew not what it
was, but knew only that she must find it.
Thunder rumbled overhead, lightening flashed in the distance and she paid
it no mind. Turning this way and
that, Vana followed the petals to the center of the circle of greenery where at
last her path ended. There were
flowers of indescribable beauty and such seductive scents that she could have
found worth in that alone, but in fact she was not alone here. There was a form ahead, sitting upon a
bench wrought of black and white marble.
He was no trifle of a figure, but was imposing and yet
non-threatening. His hair betrayed
him. It was wet, but visibly
golden-auburn. He wore no shoes,
loose-fitting pants and a fine shirt of white that made him appear more regal
than any armor could. There was a
smirk upon Boromir’s face as he looked her over, but what those eyes had in
mind was different and unmistakable.
“You are late,” he observed.
“Late? For what?” she asked
him tartly, coming into the circle with her hands folded before her and a coy
expression on her visage. She
stopped when he began moving.
Lord Boromir of Gondor was not to be trifled with. He put his hands on the bench and
pushed himself up in a predatory stalk that made her shiver. “Come here and I’ll show you.”
Vana brushed her wet hair off of her shoulder, backing away with gentle
steps that were not truly conducive to an escape if that was what she so
desired. “I do not think so,
Steward.”
He rushed to her, pinning her back to a hedge, his hands reaching for her
slick arms. He gripped her flesh
firmly, pulling her into his warmth.
“Come now, Elf. Do not play
the shy little girl with me. I
know what you want.” Without
repentance he smothered her into a kiss, encircling his arms around her, caging
her. She could feel his desire
against her belly, hard and eager.
Putting her hands to his shoulders, she tried to push away, succeeding
only in breaking the kiss. “We are
from different worlds. This cannot
be.”
“It can be,” he whispered, kissing her cheek, brushing his tongue along
her skin to taste the rain there.
“Or would you rather I wear the face of the other?” His hand wrapped around the back of her
throat, holding her still as he nipped at her jaw line.
Vana knit her brow, curling her hand along his soaked shirt. “Stop this,” she begged, even as she
arched into a hand that had wandered over her breast. He squeezed in appreciation, then smoothed up the wet
material to her shoulder. “I know
you for who you are.”
Laughter came as a dark flood from his lips. “I can be whoever you want, Elf. And I know what you want.” He gripped the fragile fabric of her gown, rending it open
down the front. With an entrance
made, he pressed his hands inward, drawing the gown from her shoulders, baring
her breasts for his pleasure. The
backs of his fingers passed over her sensitive peaks, playing at her skin until
chills spread through the hardening centers outwards. She bit her lip as a delicate ache began stirring between
her thighs. Those dark, stormy
eyes of his wandered freely, devouring the vision of her bareness even as his
hands worked to see she succumb.
“This is what you so desire, Elf.”
“Not from you!” she returned hotly, inciting more urgency on his
part. One strong arm caressed
around her back, holding her to him as the other drew the sleeve of her gown
off as she squirmed in his grip.
He repeated on the other side, thorceorced the fabric down her
hips. Vana turned away once he
stood back to admire what he had before him. Swiftly she was caught around the waist and jerked into his
chest.
Boromir kissed her bare shoulder, then moved on up her neck and she found
herself rapidly losing this battle.
“Deny it with your mouth, but I see what your heart hides.” He darted his tongue along her ear from
lobe to point, then smoothed kisses down along her throat again. His arms were like a vice around her,
one gathered beneath her breasts and the other along her pelvis. Unconsciously Vana held her legs
together in one last attempt to fight the desire there.
He nuzzled along her neck and laughed again, softly, humming thoughtfully
as he smoothed his hand along her abdomen. “You play the demure little Elf with me all you like, dark
beauty, but I know you want to be ridden like a mare.” His hand caressed down her hip, curving
to cup along her backside in a bruising hold that made her whimper. “Give in to me, Elf. There is no place to hide.”
Vana swallowed hard, trying to stay the feelings swirling within, but
sheer need surpassed all else. He
turned her fast, cupping her cheek and forcing his mouth on hers in a smothering
kiss as he held her tight against his body. “Yes, that’s it,” he hissed, touching her wet body in all
manner of ways that brought a flush to her skin and aching to her loins. In a short, fast movement he shoved his
thigh between her legs, pressing the coarse fabric of his pants against the
folds of her womanhood. With a
decidedly wicked little snicker, Boromir began a gentle rub that made her
shiver.
She looked to the rain-soaked pavement, the stone bench, anywhere they
could lay and end this hunger she felt.
Gripping his shirt, she tried to stir him into action, only to have him
grip her wrists and force them behind her back. His mouthe toe to hers, tongue breaching the way into the
dark, wet recesses of her mouth and beginning a hard stroke along hers, sucking
until she felt she would pass out from not having air. She moaned into his kiss and he obliged
her, moving away and down along her throat, her chest and to a swollen breast. He stroked his tongue along her hard,
receptive middle. When he nipped
gently she inhaled, throwing her head back to accept the rain onto her
face. “Boromir,” she whispered,
squeezing her thighs against his.
“What is it that you want?” he asked contritely, his breath not far from
her body. “Do you want to be
touched?”
Whinghing one of her hands free, Vana ran it through his wet hair and his
eyes glittered in pleasure.
Throwing away any shred of inhibition, she smiled and pulled his mouth
to her breast again. “No, I want
to be fucked and fucked well.”
Boromir encompassed her skin within his mouth, teeth grazing her flesh in
a rough tease as he let her other wrist go, molding his strong hands to her
behind. He caressed fervently,
sliding his hands down the backs of her thighs and up again, moving as she
urged him towards the bench. He
fell back onto it longways, leaning back onto his hands with eyes that dared
her to continue this act between them.
As she began to straddle his lap he met her with his fingers, caressing
the outside where moisture had begun to wander beyond her inner warmth. She felt tender inside, an aching that consumed from within.
In a maddening pet, Boromir drew the tips of his fingers up and down her
flesh, toying with her, causing her need to increase. Annoyed, she darted her hand down between his thighs along
the hardness straining against his soft pants and he groaned, his hand pausing
its torment. “Are you ready, my
little Elf?” he asked, looking into her eyes hazily. He inserted a finger into her, thrust lazily upwards, using
his other hand to brace himself up.
Biting her bottom lip, Vana nodded moving with his touch, finding herself
hungry for this thing she had not wanted to desire. He was rude, arrogant and terrible, yet she was
compelled. Boromir saw well her
need and removed his hand, going for the ties at his pants. As he parted the cloth covering him
from her, she found herself playing with the buttons of his shirt until they
had begun to come undone. The last
one came from its hold and she swept the shirt open, running her hand along his
stomach, tracing up his chest to his broad shoulder.
He gave her a crooked smile, pressing his hand to her side, smoothing it
back the rain-covered flesh to the small of her back. With a great jerk he pulled her over him, bringing his hips
up in a swift motion, forcing himself up into her. Vana tightened her hand along his shirt, leaning forward in
sudden feeling as he urged her down as far as he could, filling her tight
opening completely. It was
invasive and beautiful, consuming as she took a moment to feel him inside
her. Through half-lidded eyes she
watched him, taking in his flushed skin, the water dripping down his face, his
bright eyes and pleasured expression.
He was content, but far from sated.
“Move for me,” he ordered low, hooking his arm behind her back and
drawing her closer to him. His
mouth nipped liberally at a breast as he let up on the pressure, only to hug
her close again. Lapping at her
skin gently, he breathed, “Move,” again and looked into her face with a demand
written in those blue-grey eyes.
Vana smiled at him, rubbing his shoulder as she drew herself back away,
then jerked forward hard. He
groaned, knitting his brow at the sudden gesture. “Like that?” she asked in a mocking tone, drawing back
again, reveling in the feel of him being so deep within.
“You little tease,” Boromir hissed raggedly as she continued rocking at
that same maddening pace. He
allowed it to continue though, for his own pleasure, until she had driven him
fully ravenous. He locked his arm
around her waist and thrust upwards as he pulled her down, touching places
within she had not thought he could.
Pleasure spread through her system, thrilling between her thighs and on
up her stomach into her chest.
“Boromir,” she whispered as he drove hard and fast, the sensation
becoming sharp even as it felt pleasant.
The more he shoved into her, the more she feared she could not kee
wi
with the isitysity of each wave of desire passing through her. “I can’t…I can’t,” she breathed, losing
herself both too slowly and too quickly.
He was not gentle, nor was he merciful as he continued moving strongly,
his arm a vice around her waist from which she knew she could not escape even
if she tried. He sat forward fast,
taking her arms in his hands and jerking her into his hug as he forced himself
in again and again. “Yes, you damn
well can,” he assured her and she knew whether or not she could he would make
her keep up with his rough movements.
Rough hands pressed into her hips, caging her down as he thrust up, those
eyes of his darkening in desire, staring into hers as if challenging her to
stop this. As it was she could
only hold to his shoulders and shiver as it became too much to bear. Pain and pleasure flooded through her
and she writhed in his hold, her body rocking of its own accord, lost in the
motion as her climax overtook her.
Vana let out a moan, stirred by his whispered urgings to hear more of
her pleasure. Her forehead fell to
his shoulder as she gave in to what he wanted, letting her joy be heard through
her whimpers.
Boromir held her tightly, bucking hard against her hips until at last he
found his release. He fell back
against his hands, arching his head back as he groaned out in
satisfaction. For long moments
they remained on the stone bench, each trying to gather their composure. Vana brushed her wet hair back and
looked down as he panted, his chest moving in a rhythmic call for air. When he opened his eyes they were dark
and sated, containing depths of evil she had not seen before. “Now you are mine, Elf,” he whispered,
running his hand up her thigh.
“Nay,” she returned, attempting to pull herself up off his lap. He came back up, wrapping his arms
around her waist to cage her against him.
In the end she was no match for it. She shoved at his shoulders to no avail, tears pooling in
her eyes as she realized just what she had done. “I belong to no one!”
He laughed and gathered her into his embrace, smoothing hands along her
chill, nude flesh. “No one but me,
snaga burzum-ishi. It has already
begun.”

Black Speech - Slave in darkness.
She fought him, she wept and screamed, but she could not escape him. His hold was strong, his touch
consuming like a fire searing across her naked flesh as he prepared to take her
again. Inside her heart was
shrieking even as she lay back and accepted his body over hers.
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The Fallen