Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Stolen	By : squirrelchaser Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 13305 -:- 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.

Chapter List
- 1-Stolen
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-eight
- 9-nine
- 10-ten
- 11-11
- 4
- 5
- 6
Lord
Elrond was tall, clothed in long sweeping jewel toned robes, with intricately
braided black hair, deeply wise grey eyes, a face that emanated kindness, and a
voice as warm as sunlight. He was nestled in a great chair in a long, open hall
at the end of a table. There were two elves on either side of him: one dark
haired and fair skinned with green-brown eyes, the other with radiant golden
hair and deep blue eyes.
Had
I been my twenty five year old self I would have happily climbed into Elrond�s
lap and fallen asleep without a second thought. Instead I remembered my
adulthood and bowed low, hailing the elf lords as formally as I could manage,
feeling foolish.
Though
appearing slightly taken aback Elrond rose and returned my bow. Then he
gestured to the two elves on either side of him, introducing the dark haired
one as Erestor and the golden haired one as Glorfindel. Each of the elf lords
returned my greeting and bade me to sit.
�It
would appear that you come to us in great distress,� Erestor said, eyeing my
clothes but not unkindly. �And you say you are Legolas of Mirkwood?�
�That
I am,� I replied.
The
elf lords looked mildly intrigued, exchanging slight glances. �We would be glad
to hear your telling, of how you came to be this way,
Legolas.�
Swallowing
my hurt I relayed my tale from the very beginning as neutrally as possible: the
ransack of Mirkwood, the death of my Adar, my stay in Sauron�s strong hold, the
birth of my son, and my leave of Sauron.
The
three elves listened patiently, not interrupting. When I finished they looked
at me gravely, then to one another.
�You
know then,� the one named Glorfindel said slowly, �What Sauron plans to do?�
�A
little,� I confessed. �He wants to amass an army, with my son to lead it with
him.�
Elrond
looked pensive though he did not speak his thoughts aloud to the rest of us.
�But,� Elrond�s demeanor changed and he waved his hand nonchalantly and sat
back in his chair, changing the subject. �You look tired and worn, Legolas of
Mirkwood; you must rest and eat before we take any further action.�
�It
is no trouble,� I said hastily, though I was beginning to droop in both spirit
and body. �I worry for my son.�
�Your
falling down in exhaustion shall not speed you son�s aide,� Elrond said gently.
�We insist you rest before going any further.�
In
all truth, I was grateful for his firmness; I had grown used to sleeping on a
regular basis for means of escape, unlike elvish tradition. When I left, I saw
the three elf lords sitting in a tight circle talking quietly among themselves, and Glorfindel briefly glanced at me as I
reached the door.
I
was shown to a chamber where I surreptitiously deposited the little mouse
before bathing. Once finished I felt much better.
It
was my ancestors, the woodelves, who came to the forest, listened to the trees,
and taught them to speak. I leaned out the window that looked over the valley,
where the sound of the waterfalls mingled with the rustling of leaves in the
clean smelling air. Closing my eyes I heard faint whispers of goodness and
tranquility. There was great wisdom and lore in the valley as well; the trees
sang of stories of the grand past and boasted of a great future to come. It
must be safe here, I decided, for the trees were at peace. Satisfied, I was
lying down in bed when Lord Elrond entered the room.
He
looked as dignified as ever, but there was a more casual openness in his air as
he greeted me and sat down beside the bed. He began, �We have discussed your
situation and are mulling over the information you have given us. When you are
ready, tomorrow perhaps, we could hold further council with you present?�
I
nodded, seeing Elrond pause. He was debating something; I could see the
thoughts running behind his eyes, yet I could not read what they were. �But�?�
I prompted. �Tell me.�
The
elf lord shook his dark head. �No. Rest first. Tomorrow will-�
�I
cannot sleep without knowing,� I insisted. �And you know something.�
�Yes,�
Elrond said quietly. �I know of your son.�
My
lips trembled. �Tell me,� I said again.
In
a low voice he said slowly, as if each word pained him, �Your son, whom Sauron
is grooming, shall be one of the greatest warriors in the history of
Middle-earth. I have foreseen it.� He looked terribly saddened as he said this,
which wiped away the smile of pride that flickered across my features.
�What
is it then?� I asked quietly, but I already knew. �He shall march against us,
against Imladris.� And against me, I added in my mind. �You do not foresee his
rescuing.�
�A
week ago I had a vision, which did not make sense to me until you arrived for
it told us of your happenings. Then I saw your son, and in my vision there was
one who opposed him.� Elrond leaned forward intently. �There were two warriors,
both tall, golden haired, and young, one was clad in all black, with studded
armor, a great long bow, and a deadly sword: your
Thranduil, your son in Sauron�s care now. The other carried a lighter, smaller
sword, a quiver of arrows and a spear.� Elrond paused again. �The last one
called you Adar.�
Staring
at the elf lord I shook my head, not understanding. I was also growing agitated
as his slow way of revealing things reminded me of Sauron. �I have but one son,
Lord Elrond. Would you not tell me the meaning of what it is you saw?�
Elrond
looked agitated and fidgeted with his hands. �I foresaw you having another son,
to oppose the one you bore to Sauron.�
I
flinched. �Do you know who sired him?�
�One
of the greatest warriors of many ages,� Elrond replied. �It is not for me to
say yet.�
�And�which
of my sons triumphed?�
�That
is dark to my eyes.�
Even
in my youth I had heard of Elrond�s wisdom, and his gift of foresight. I could
not question what he saw, but I did not want to believe that I would never have
my Thranduil away from the Dark Lord. Covering my face with my hands I said
quietly, �I do not want to believe you. Could you be mistaken?�
The
Elf Lord did not speak, but reached out and placed a reassuring hand on my
knee. �It is possible.�
�Have
you ever been wrong, when you have seen things?�
�No.�
I
now felt horribly torn. If there was no hope to save Thranduil then I no longer
had a reason to remain, instead of passing to heal in Mando�s care. And now
that Sauron�s spell of imprisonment had been lifted I could pass when ever I
pleased, and Elrond must know this.
The
elf lord looked at me with sadness and empathy.
�I do not wish for you to harbor false hope, but that you will remain
here on Middle-earth.�
�You
wish to keep me for breeding purposes. You are no better than him, if that is
your intent,� I said bitterly. My words were cruel, but I did not care.
�I
was afraid you would think that,� Elrond said. �Whatever you
should decide, know that you are welcome in Imladris. There is peace and
healing, if that is what you want.� Looking sad, he rose from the bed and made
his way to the door where he turned and said, �But I cannot stop you from doing
what you will.�
I
nodded, feeling depleted and wilted. �Why is this happening?� I said quietly,
looking into my hands which lay limp in my lap. �I wish that it had never come
to pass. But�what I wish does not matter. It never did.�
Elrond�s
face softened and he came and sat by the bed again. �Kind people will never
understand, to be sure, why the servants of Morgoth spread evil among the good.
His desire is darkness and his intent is pain.�
�Why
must it have been us? I wish it never was!� I said fiercely.
�Sauron
desires to own all that is good and twist and torment till it is as black as he
is. He rules by fear. What could strike fear into the hearts of the elves more
than to take one of us and defile it?�
�You
speak of my son,� I said, trying to front agitation but instead found myself
drawn to the elf lord�s wisdom.
�Sauron
sought out the strongest of our kin, the woodland elves who challenged him for
the domination of Mirkwood for many decades. You. Your Adar.� There was a warm, gentle hand on my chin which
tilted my face upward to look into the elf lord�s; it was the first gentle
touch I had had in over a year. Elrond looked at me, shaking his head slightly
in wonder. �You have the strength of many in you, young one. In Glorfindel�s
time, when the Noldor returned to Middle-earth, elves many times your age and
experience quailed at Sauron�s gaze and did his bidding in fear. But you��
�Adar
did not.�
Elrond
was silent.
�It
hurts,� I said quietly, and he nodded sadly and said,
�I
wish I could help you bear your pain.�
But
he could not, and sleep did not come easy to me. I lay awake in bed, heart
throbbing for Thranduil and wondering after his well being. It felt empty and
alone when he was not with me; the little mouse that had made herself a nest
beside the bed in a handkerchief was hardly a substitution.
I
could pass, I thought, and put an end to all of this. I wondered what the Halls
would be like, and whether or not I could watch my son grow up from afar. Then,
I realized, if what Elrond spoke was true I did not want to see what would
become of Thranduil.
When
sleep did come, so did horrible nightmares. I dreamt of Sauron: hard, cold,
with glowing white skin in sharp contrast to the black of his armor. I dreamt
of Thranduil: just as hard and as cold, with fair hair like mine whipping about
to snag on the spikes in his armor. His facial expression was one of domination
and cold disregard, he was aloof and untouchable, and in his eyes were like death and evil. Save his physical appearance,
there was not a trace of me or my Adar in him. They were at the head of a great
army of orcs; in the background were black and red banners; a horn sounded, and
they swept out.
The
next part of the dream was more of a feeling than images. It was a feeling of
terror and desperation; there was a great blackness eating up all that was good
and light filled. Mirkwood had long rotted away, L�rien was burning to the
ground and there were elves fleeing and screaming. Imladris was a lone pinpoint
of goodness, but then I saw Elrond, sitting dejectedly with his face in his
hand. I could feel his despair for he seemed to know that it would not be long,
and then the darkness came and swept him away too, then everything went cold.
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