Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

A liaison in the Great Greenwood	By : Azukiel Category: +Third Age > Het - Male/Female Views: 7956 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any copyright to the Tolkien/ Middle-Earth fandom, nor to any of his canon characters or languages. I do not make any money from this fanfiction. Original characters however, are my property.

Chapter List
- 43
- 44
- 45
"By the rotten arse of Melkor, did you eat your own shit or something?" Glorfindel spat in disgust as the rancid black ooze of the troll he had just dispatched, splattered all over his golden armour and pale skin. The vile stench would have made the strongest of warriors feel nauseous, yet Glorfindel had seen worse in war as he pulled out his long sword from the troll's gut, its intestines spilling out before it. "Siniath..." He muttered to himself as he flicked the black ooze from his immaculate blade. "Oh and look, you got your stinking fluids in my hair! It will take days to wash this stench out." He grumbled. "Of all the wars I've been in, I just had to get covered in troll guts this time."
He ducked under the mighty heave of a battleaxe then and kicked the offending orc out of the way. "Ego!" He was still flustered at being covered by stinking troll's blood. Now an orc dared to attack at him? The nerve these foul creatures had!
Swinging himself around he narrowly missed the jagged rust of a blade aimed for his skull. "Why you crafty bastard!" Glorfindel ducked another blow from the same orc and swiftly flipped around to take off its head. "And this, my friends, is how you counterattack and decapitate magnificently." He laughed to his own amusement. One after another the foul beasts came at him, like a putrid, unrelenting tidal wave.
"And to take off the leg..." He slid under the swing of another axe. "Aim above..." He swung his sword around and took the beast's leg clean off through the knee. "Or below or just straight through the knee!"
Yet suddenly a shadow cloaked him in darkness as it loomed over him, it's yellowed eyes piercing his with unfathomable rage.
"Well!" Glorfindel straightened himself out before the massive creature. "I've never seen a beast like you before! What are you, besides a giant lump of muscle? A goblin hybrid? In fact you look like the spawn of a troll that fucked an Orc!"
The greyed beast growled at him and spat a curse in the black tongue. Yet the monster that stood before the Golden Haired Warrior appeared just like one of those that Adlanniel had described to him after he had found her in the forest. Was this some new beast spawned from the pits of Mordor? It swung its mighty double axe at him again and again, it's strength unwavering. Glorfindel was surprised at its stamina, and had difficulties finding an open window to attack.
Finally, he found his chance. Using his elven agility, he leapt up to pounce upon the offending beast, diving his blade down into the creature's chest and deep into its body. As it tumbled to the mud underfoot, Glorfindel noticed through the corner of his eye another tumble to the ground; A silver haired warrior similar to himself. As his head turned to face the flaxen hair, his sapphire eyes widened in horror and his skin paled to a deathly grey.

“Aran Thranduil!” His voice almost choked in his throat as he watched the Elvenking fall, the three blackened shafts protruding from his body.
The battered prince was desperately trying to claw his way to the king, but one after the other foul beasts spewed forth, trampling him harder into the slush underfoot.
Glorfindel could feel all the bile rise into his throat in a boiling fury, as he watched one of those giant Orc beasts take the prince by the hair to drag him up like a rag doll, ready to pound his head in with one fell swoop of its mighty hammer.
“Get your hands off my sapling you filthy maggot!” Glorfindel screamed as he leapt over the corpse of a fallen steed. Using all the might his body could muster, he hauled his longsword at the beast, hitting it square in the chest. Some inaudible insult splattered from its tongue, but it fell on deaf ears as it toppled to the mud in a heap of limbs.
“Legolas, cund vuin, are you alright? Can you stand?” Glorfindel dropped to his knees beside his younger counterpart, taking the prince by the arms to assist him.
“A…Adar…” Legolas coughed, the air filling his lungs feeling like a thousand icy razors.
Glorfindel immediately looked back behind him; Thranduil, still lying in the mud, had regained some form of consciousness. Glorfindel helped pull the prince closer to his father and called over nearby allies of both elves and men to keep a close perimeter.
“L...Legolas...where is my son?” The king’s voice rasped.
“I am here adar.” Legolas replied, straining to move closer to his father.
“Do not worry yourself, the sapling is merely battered and bruised.” Glorfindel added.
“Glorfindel…How I missed you.” Thranduil gave a weak grin in jest.
“And what were you doing, my dear brother? Sleeping on the job?” Glorfindel teased in return. Thranduil in turn, tried to laugh at the amusement but such a burning fire filled his chest he could do nothing but cough harshly, rubied blood splattering from his paled lips.
“We have to get you both out of here.” Glorfindel’s voice was now deeply concerned as he furrowed his mud streaked brow.
“You lot, help me get the king and the prince to a safer location at the edge of the battle. You and you, go find healers and send them to us without delay. And you two, go find Lord Elrond and notify him of what has occurred. We will need his skills post haste.” He gave stern orders to some of those that had made the perimeter around them.
As he and a few other soldiers tried to lift up the king, he let out a gut wrenching cry.
“Snap them…snap the shafts…” He rasped through strained, burning breaths.
Glorfindel looked to him, unsure if doing such a thing in their current situation would be wise, especially as they were still surrounded by foes. But the Elvenking grimaced at him.
“Just do it!” He barked.
“Very well…” Glorfindel took hold of the shaft protruding from the king’s calf, whilst another soldier took hold of one of those protruding from the king’s shoulder. Almost in unison the poisoned wood crackled and snapped as force was brought down upon them, breaking them in two. Glorfindel too snapped the last arrow, and each one made the Elvenking grimace in pain.
They moved as one body as they carried the prince and the Elvenking to safety, shielding them closely from those still fighting so as not to break morale, and give too much unwarranted hope to the enemy.
Three healers joined them presently, and immediately set to what their professions required them to do. Yet the Elvenking had already fallen back into oblivion by the time they had arrived; his eyes fading and unseeing.
“Adar? Adar!” But the prince’s voice was a mere shadow of a whisper to the Elvenking’s ears.
“The poultice that I have applied should slow the effects of the venom.” Began one of the female healers that had been aiding the Elvenking. “But he needs the mastery of Lord Elrond and more potent ingredients to bring him out of the darkness for I am afraid he is still slipping into it. This Morgul poison is of a despicably more potent kind than what we usually encounter in battle. If his majesty were born a man, I am sure he would already be at the doors of Mandos’ Halls. His majesty is lucky that his age and being one of we Eldar has made him more robust in this occasion. My skills are not sufficient enough to do much more however…” Her face was pained with worry, as the magic that had hidden the Elvenking’s horrific burn scars began to weaken and fade. Glorfindel placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You did what you could; that is enough.”
The younger elleth placed a hand on his, giving a slight nod in agreement.
“I owe you for your hard work.” He then whispered into her ear, making her flush briefly. “Now how is the princeling?” Glorfindel quickly changed the subject as he focussed on the healer who was aiding the prince.
“He has a concussion and cuts and bruising from when that troll threw him.” She replied as she continued to bandage the prince’s chest. “He also has a few broken ribs and has sprained his right wrist, hir vuin.”
Glorfindel sighed and nodded as he looked at Legolas. “Worry yourself not cund vuin, for I am sure the lady Adlanniel will take very good care of you.”
Sensing the underlying meaning to Glorfindel’s tone, Legolas too blushed a shade of crimson. “I am sure she will.” He muttered in reply.
“But my ada...he is still fading from this world, what if Lord Elrond does not arrive here in time? What if the messengers have been killed?” Legolas began to panic before he stopped to think for the briefest of moments. “I am going to go find Lord Elrond myself.” He went to stand but almost yelped in pain as he fell back into Glorfindel’s arms.
“You are not to go anywhere.” He said firmly as he sat the prince back down behind the safety of the Mûmak carcass they had all been huddling behind. “You yourself are injured and are not out of the woods yet either. I will go find Lord Elrond myself if he does not arrive soon.”
“You will not need to.” Came a sudden voice from around the corner of the carcass. Suddenly Lord Elrond appeared as he ducked under one of the giant tusks to be by their side, followed thankfully by the two relatively unscathed messengers. Legolas and Glorfindel gave a collective sigh of relief.
“I need more Athelas, and quickly.” He ordered without hesitation. There was no time for polite greetings now.
Each of the healers immediately pulled out their pouches and handed them to him as he quickly knelt by the Elvenking.
“I need some water as well.”
Glorfindel handed him the water skin he had had on his person.
Washing the Elvenking’s wounds once more, he began to chant at the same time; the same chant that his daughter had used to save the human messenger. Yet this chant contained even more potent incantations, for even the Elvenking's powerful being could not withstand the destructive black magic of Mordor.
More of the poison began to seep up through the wounds, steaming off his pale skin as Lord Elrond poured more water over them. Some of Thranduil’s veins now coursed black through his body; the poison was fighting the attempts to extract and nullify it, it crawling through his blood like a serpent.
“You and I have saved each other's lives countless times, old friend. I'm not about to lose you now, not this time.” Elrond muttered to himself. Yet his words found their way to the Golden Warrior who was now consoling the distraught prince.
The lord of Imladris continued his chant, his hands bathed in a crystal white light as he held them over each of the Elvenking’s wounds.
“Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad.”
The Elvenking stirred and groaned from those words, but he did not wake from his poisoned slumber. He was, at least, still alive.
“Will he survive?” Legolas sniffed as he looked over Elrond who was now rebandaging the Elvenking’s wounds and scars.
“Yes, cund vuin, he will survive.” He replied with a tired smile. “But when he will wake from this darkened sleep, I cannot tell. Maybe tomorrow, maybe a few days, maybe weeks. This poison will affect him for quite some time.”
Legolas nodded and looked back down at his father, taking one of his bandaged hands to hold it in his own.
“Forgive me father, for I brought this upon you.” He wept, putting his forehead onto his father’s chest.
“Your father would not want you to blame yourself, Legolas.” Elrond reassured him as he placed a gentle hand on the prince’s shoulder.
“We do what we think best during times of war.”
“But I was too brash, I could have had him and myself killed.”
“That is true, but you are learning the arts of war, it cannot be helped. Besides, he will survive.”
Legolas gave a doleful nod. “I do not know how to thank you hir vuin, for I know this is not the first time you have saved my father’s life.”
“And he has saved mine an equal amount of times. Repayment is not needed, cund vuin. We are all family.”
Glorfindel too have a nod in agreement.
Suddenly, the loud blasts of elven horns resonated throughout the soggy plains. The battle had finally ended. Despite the war having been won, there would still be so much loss.

Sindarin-English
Siniath - Rotten/ disgusting
Ego - Go away/ Fuck off!
Aran - King
Cund vuin - my prince
Adar - father
Hir vuin - my lord
Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad - hear my voice, come back to the light
- 43
- 44
- 45
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A liaison in the Great Greenwood