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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
- 4
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- 6
Thank you for the kindly reviews!! Means a bunch! :D
*
Legolas knelt by the stream, drawing
the crystal clear water into his hands.
He splashed it into his face, clearing away blood and sweat. Wetting his hair, he drew the water up over
his bare shoulders, closing his eyes as it trickled down his chest. Such a simple thing felt as though
Illuvatar himself had brought to him rest from his troubles. It was but a moment in time, precious
and ephemeral, for he knew well the darkness would return soon.
Suddenly a hand was at the back of his
throat. The rest was snatched away
as he was shoved forward, his face hitting the water’s cold surface and
plunging beneath. Panicked, he
thrashed and jerked, trying to free himself, but the hand was firm and had
caught him unaware. The water lost
its charm as it filled his mouth.
Legolas flailed hard, but in his weakened state could not win this
battle. His lungs felt as though
they would burst.
The hand tensed, holding him down, then
just as Legolas prepared to see the Halls of Mandos, let him up. He was jerked from the water and shoved
down to the dirt. Rising from a
crouch, Haldir smirked and crossed his arms. “Someday I will not let go.”
On his hands and knees, Legolas coughed
up water and ignored the Marchwarden.
When he finally caught his breath, he looked up to see the Elf watching
him in distaste. “Where is Lady
Galadriel?” he asked, his mind going to Saralonde. He had been worried for her all day, knowing what would
happen. What she must be going
through, he thought sorrowfully.
He would have gladly taken her place in pain if he could have bought her
freedom.
Haldir kicked dirt at him and
smiled. “She is occupied with your
little girlfriend.”
Legolas’s eyes went wide as he raced to
his feet. “What?!” he demanded,
looking at the stairs.
The Marchwarden drew his sword,
unimpressed. “You had best calm
yourself, whelp, for my patience is low.”
His heart filled with despair. He had given himself to Galadriel’s
evils for the sake of keeping the Lady of light away from Saralonde. He had lost a part of himself and now
the same was to be done to his love.
“I have been forsaken,” he whispered, lowering his eyes to the earthen
floor.
“So it would seem,” Haldir agreed,
smiling softly.
*
Saralonde groaned, awakening and
finding herself uncomfortably curled on the floor. In the fog of bringing herself to awareness she came to the
realization that she was not alone in the home. The door had awakened her when it was opened. Nervous, Saralonde wiped her cheeks and
pulled herself to her feet, knowing Boromir would be angry and suspicious if he
found her on the floor. Drawing
herself to the mirror, she winced when she looked at the bruise on her cheek
from where Faramir had hit her.
There would be no hiding it.
Footsteps warned her of his entry into
the bedroom and when she turned she felt at least somewhat prepared for
him. She had not been
prepared for Pippin. He bounded
into the room and stopped short upon seeing her. His eyes became grave, but he did not address her
state. “My Lady, I brought your
dinner. Nice and hot. And Lady Galadriel wishes to visit with
you a little bit.”
“Lady Galadriel?” Her blood ran cold. What would she want? Then again, if she had any news of
Legolas, the chance of asking should be taken. Licking her lips, Saralonde straightened her skirt and said,
“All right.”
Pippin smiled gently and reached his
hand out. Saralonde politely took
it and followed him out into the main room where she saw the Lady of Shadow
sitting, her hood thrown back. Her
presense was such that instinctively Saralonde almost bowed before her, but she
stopped herself when she realized just who this person was. Galadriel smiled as if she had
recognized these thoughts in her.
“Leave us,” she told the Hobbit.
He bowed and gave Saralonde a parting
look, then disappeared out the door.
Through the window she could see it was dark outside. There on the table was a single plate
of food, signifying that the Lady of L�rien would not remain for dinner. At least that’s what she hoped was the
case. Saralonde sat down and
refrained from eating, waiting for the Lady to speak. “You wished to speak to me?”
Galadriel smiled and motioned
down. “Eat, child. You will need your strength.” She folded her hands before her on the
table and watched until the younger took a bite. “So you survived Lord Faramir’s attack.”
The blatant question made her
tense. Saralonde looked down at
the table, not sure what to say.
“I did,” she chose,ainiaining aloof and volunteering nothing.
The Lady of Shadow nodded softly, then
shifted the conversation. “If you
lost Legolas, what would you do?”
Saralonde’s eyes shot up to
Galadriel’s. “What?” she asked,
feeling a nervousness in the pit of her stomach. “He’s not…”
Galadriel shook her head, then took a
sip from a cup of tea before her.
She seemed as though she were going to make a point, but whatever that
was she was taking her time getting there. “Saralonde, if you lost him to darkness, would you follow or
would you want freedom?”
Darkness? The darkness of death or the darkness of evil? “I…I don’t know,” she answered
truthfully. She shook her
head. “Legolas would never turn.”
“You think that is so?” Galadriel waited patiently, her eyes
betraying nothing as Saralonde nodded defiantly. She glanced at the door, then back again. “You will have a choice to make, Elf of
Mirkwood. To stand with your lover
in darkness or to take your freedom and go where you will, abandoning him to a
hopeless task. I am not permitted
to make that choice for you, but I ask you to consider your love for him. How far would you go for him?”
Saralonde found herself unable to eat,
trying so hard to understand what this dark being was getting at. “What are you doing to him?” she asked,
thinking back on his abused appearance.
She would have demanded, would have snapped and yelled, but it wasn’t in
her heart to do so. So she lowered
her tone, trying to find mercy in Galadriel’s wise eyes. “Please, tell me.”
The Lady of Shadow shook her head,
rising to her feet. “All I will
say is that I am preparing him.
Tomorrow you will make a choice.
To live for the greater good or to live for yourself.” She bowed her head, replacing her
hood. “He comes,” she said, eyes
trailing over Saralonde’s face.
“You should consider minding your temper tonight.”
The door opened and Boromir entered,
stopping when he saw Galadriel. He
looked a trifle annoyed, but would not dare be rude to the Lady. Bowing his head to her, he said, “Can I
do something for you, my Lady?”
Galadriel smiled and declined, heading
for the door. “Nay, Boromir. I am well. I trust you are?”
Boromir grunted with a short nod,
holding the door as she exited.
“Farewell,” he said, shutting it as the lady disappeared. He turned then and looked Saralonde
over. “What was that all about?”
Saralonde grabbed her fork, fingering
the metal sides of the instrument.
She gazed at her food, unsure what he would take anger at. “She spoke to me of Legolas. She said he was fading into darkness.”
Removing his outer jacket, tossing it
on the chair, he grunted again and came to her. Taking her goblet, he looked inside, then took a drink
before setting it back before her.
“Interesting.” Boromir
kicked his boots off and looked down.
She averted her gaze self-consciously, but it was too late. “Your cheek. What happened?”
“Nothing.” Part of her had not meant to say that, to tell him of
Faramir’s attack and hope for justice.
“Mmm,” he hummed, undoing his
belt. He threw it onto the table
and she jarred. Boromir wandered
behind her then, putting his hands on her shoulders. He began to knead them softly. “What should I do to you for lying?”
Saralonde curled her hands into fists,
feeling herself grow hot with anger and hate. But she remembered Galadriel’s warning. What would happen if she didn’t mind
her temper? Recalling Faramir’s
violence, she desperately did not want to know. In an even tone she responded, &#;You;You should remember honor
and make a compassionate choice on what you think you should do.”
Boromir laughed at that and she closed
her eyes, expecting violence.
“Begging are you?”
“Not begging,” she whispered, even if her
heart was begging the Valar somehow life would have mercy. “Do as you will. I have been hurt and violated enough
that it would not harm me as much as it would you. It is you who will fall away.”
He exhaled and brushed the fabric down
her shoulders softly, running his hands over her bare skin. “If I remember honor, will you tell me
who hit you? I do not take lightly
to what is mine being touched.”
She searched herself. What should she say? Should she fear what Faramir
threatened? Yet what did it matter. Shifting beneath his caress, she said,
“Faramir.” And then she waited.
His hands stopped, tensing against her
skin. “Faramir?” he repeated in an
unreadable voice. “Did you deserve
it? Be honest, for I will speak
with him.”
“No doubt he would say I did,” she
replied, thinking again of what had happened. She could still hear him breathing, was still sore all
over. Saralonde absently rubbed at
her arm. “He hit me for fighting
him.”
&0;Fi0;Fighting him on what? What did he want that you denied
him?” Boromir let her arms ago,
returning to her field of vision.
He looked distinctly annoyed.
Saralonde lifted her gaze, meeting his
eyes head on. “What do you think
he wanted? What do you think he
did?”
He exhaled, jerking a chair from the
table and sitting. His eyes were
on her, sharp and seeking. They
trailed her face, taking in the bruise there, and on down her neck and
chest. It was a slow,
uncomfortable sweep that made her look away. “How bad?”
She knew she could not put words to the
violence. Perhaps she didn’t have
to. Pulling her sleeves back, Saralonde
showed him her sliced up wrists.
“It was bad.” She said it
short, not expecting anything but his watchful, burning eyes to remain on her.
Boromir reached for her hand, taking it
and pulling her arm to him. He
brushed his thumb across her torn up skin. She noticed his jaw was set. “My brother is an animal,” he mused darkly, letting her go
and looking up. “He will answer
for this, I promise you that.”
It was a kindness he was offering, but
she could not accept it. Tears
filling her eyes, she said very coldly, “Is that supposed to make me
happy? Grateful?”
He shook his head without malice. “No, I do not imagine it would. It does not haveR”
“I would not imagine it would,” she
shot, then exhaled at the dangerous glint in his eyes. “What do you want me to feel after
being raped three times in three days?”
For a long moment he just watched her,
his expression unreadable, but touched with a hardness that made her shiver in
anticipation. Perhaps she had gone
too far. A part of her did not
care, either. Boromir nodded his
head soon, then sat forward, drinking from her glass again. “Feel as you will. I will not deny you the right to feel
angry. I am angry you were so
abused by my brother.”
She stared at him, incredulous. “You are angry he abused me? Yet you abuse me when we are alone?”
His eyes flashed and he pointed at her
threateningly.
Someone strong must see the Ring gets to Mordor at all costs. She will be unable to protect herself
from him.”
“I somehow doubt she would be grateful
if I attempted to protect her from her own lover.” The Captain rubbed his chin thoughtfully, despite his
sarcastic tone. “What makes you so
sure they would even accept my help?”
Galal sml smiled softly. “Because you will keep she and the
Hobbit safe while Legolas kills Aragorn.”
Smirking at that, he nodded as if she
had just proclaimed something as absurd as returning to the light. spanspan>The mission was suicide. “You are truly cruel to send him to
such a task. Does he know? Does the poor wretch have the idea he
could possibly kill the High King?”
“He does not know that he will end
Aragorn’s life, but I know he has a good chance. What of your choice, Captain?” The confidence in her eyes quelled any thoughts of reporting
this treachery. If he chose not to
go along he suspected he would dire are and now. And if he chose to follow, he would be watched from here on
out. Not that he would tell
anyone, anyway. Aragorn annoyed
him with his sentimentality and darkness.
It would amuse Boromir to see the High King struggle, to hear what the
Elf had won himself for his misbegotten bravery.
*
Elvish:
Avo garo. – Don’t do this.

Nestagon n�n lebid ned le an lin gell, levithon lin born d�n,
si deri thaur na le. – I insert my fingers into you for your joy, I would
(will) lick your hot opening, yet remain abhorrent to you.

Avo! Gell n�n no an Legolas. Anno
sen anim. – Don’t! My joy is for Legolas. Give this to me?
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In Darkness and In Doubt