Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Of Light and Shadow	By : Avaloyuru Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2298 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any copyright to the Tolkien/Middle-Earth Fandom, nor his canon characters or languages. I do not receive any form of compensation for this fanfiction. Original characters are my property.

Chapter List
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“And you know this for certain?” Cerályië asked after long moments, turning his attention back to his commanding officer.
“Ayë.” (Yes) Elaéyadär replied. “The prince refuses to accept the crown, announcing that he will rule only as Regent until the kings’ return.”
“You trust this source?” Cerályië pressed as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk.
“It’s not just one source.” Elaéyadär stated, meeting the lords gaze evenly. “There was talk of it in both Dale and the new settlement of Lake Town. My captain confirmed it when he overheard a conversation at the Half Barrel Inn just south of Esgaroth. He recognized the speaker as the kings’ Chief March Warden, Aldalómë.”
“I see.” Cerályië sighed heavily, his gaze turning inward as his thoughts turned to Thranduil and how quickly the time had passed. “What else did you hear?” He asked, forcing his thoughts back to the present situation.
“The Prince has ordered the forest patrols doubled in their efforts against the shelob (spiders). If he were injured, the king would more than likely have sought refuge within the forest. They feel he would be in most in danger there.” Elaéyadär stated, shaking his head. “If that had been the case, alone and possibly injured he would not have survived against the shelob (spiders). Yet it gives them hope that they have found nothing.”
“No.” Cerályië stated firmly as he pushed himself up from his desk. “The forest protects him, they all know this.” He continued as he walked toward the hearth. “Are you sure they have not been alerted to our presence?” He asked quietly, narrowing his eyes as he turned back to the commander.
“There is much chaos in Esgaroth with the rebuilding. Many seem to be flowing into the region in hopes of sharing in the wealth.” Elaéyadär replied, shaking his head. “Most of our people have already reached the shores of the Sea of Rhûn.”
“And our negotiations with Lord Dain?” Cerályië asked, folding his arms across his chest.
“Honored as we anticipated.” Elaéyadär stated, leaning back in the settee as he studied the Lord of the Keep. “The dwarf has kept his word and Elian assures the keep will be ready by the turn of the new moon.”
“Thank you Elaéyadär.” He said quietly, smiling softly. “That will be all.” He added as he turned away from him to gaze into the flames in the hearth.
“Oh my sweet treasure, I shall miss you to the depths of my heart.” He sighed heavily to himself as he heard the door close quietly behind the commander.
“It was nothing but a fools dream.” He stated angrily, shaking himself as he quickly exited his study. Snatching his cloak, he clutched it tightly about himself as he retreated to the ramparts of the Keep.
Unable to stop them, the tears rolled freely down his cheeks, his gaze peered unseeing toward the night sky as memories long buried and thought to be forgotten now flooded through him. He had survived centuries of the horrors of Annûmëä, the fledgling necromancer of Ettenmoors in the shadow of the Mountains of Angmar. In a moment of weakness, Cerályië would not call love for the dark one knew nothing of such things, besotted only by his beauty, Annûmëä had let his guard down. It had been easy to strike out, to destroy him.
No, the revenge that had been his armor for centuries, fueled by his hatred was not for Annûmëä but for the one who had stolen his heart with so many promises only to abandon him, shattering his dreams. Learning of his death should have been a joyous occasion yet he had felt nothing, only emptiness until the nightmares returned. Forcing him to relive the almost overwhelming pain that coursed through him the moment he struck Annûmëä down, a fire that burned him to his very fäë (soul) and forever marked him.
Turning away from the darkening evening sky, Cerályië was filled with the closest thing to hope he had felt for many long years, believing that perhaps the fates had decided to smile upon him at last. However bittersweet the dream, he would keep his promise and release Thranduil at the appointed time. While his time with him was short, he would treasure the light within him that chased away the shadows, comforting himself in the knowledge that he was still capable of feeling love.
Striding purposefully toward the far end of the dungeons, he paused briefly to collect himself before quietly entering. Motioning for Edicûve to remain seated, he pulled off his cloak and draped it over the settee as he made his way to the bathing chamber. Cold water would have been the better choice, but the warm would have to do as he washed away the traces of his tears, steeling himself for the last few weeks left of his time with him.
Tensing as he heard him enter, Thranduil forced himself to remain still, controlling his breathing to appear as though he was asleep. Yet his mind raced with the desperate need to find a way out. While he was able to mark the passing of one day into the next, with no way recording the passing, there was no way of knowing how long he had been held captive. The elf no longer secured him to the small bed in the evenings, yet he was never left alone and was not permitted to roam freely about the room.
Tears stung the backs of his eyes as he thought of his woodland home but mostly of his son, the ache in his heart had grown unbearable. Submitting to the elf at first had been simply a matter of survival, in hopes of earning some level of trust to glean even the slightest bit of information that would help him find a way out. When they did speak to each other during the times they thought he was asleep, they spoke in a language he was only vaguely familiar with, an ancient tongue no longer spoken anywhere to his knowledge.
Over time Thranduil had managed to pick out enough words to understand that his presence there was the source of the shift he felt earlier. They spoke of a time that was older than even what he knew about his father and place he had not heard of before. The guards seemed angry with the elf, mostly the one he knew as Edicûve, yet it was easy for Thranduil to see that both of them were completely devoted to protecting the elf making it impossible for him to sway either one into helping him.
“You may leave us now.” He said quietly, smiling at Edicûve as he returned to the main room. “I wish to be left alone until morning.”
Nodding, Edicûve rose to his feet, pausing only long enough to clasp his friends shoulder in a brief gesture of understanding before departing.
Admiring the long slender frame as he slowly peeled himself out his robes, Cerályië smiled as his gaze lingered on his peacefully sleeping face. The beguiling chiseled features were slightly softened in his slumber, his slightly parted lips only enhancing his seductive appearance. Long tresses of silvery blonde hair spilled over his shoulders onto the furs giving him somewhat of an otherworldly quality.
His soft smile turned mischievous as he lowered himself down over him, feeling him stiffen at first as he pushed him onto his back. Resting his full weight on top of him, he reached up and gently brushed the stray tresses from his face. Nipping his chin playfully as he felt him place his hands gently on his hips.
Thranduil only smiled softly as he lifted his hands, running his fingers through the long silken tresses. Cupping his face in his hands, he drew his thumbs gently over his full lips as he caressed the soft flesh of his neck with his fingertips. He desired him yes, but not as a slave neither did he want to master him. He knew he risked punishment or worse isolation from him yet he pulled his face toward him, pressing his lips his for long moments. Sighing inwardly as he felt him relax and open his mouth to him, he hesitantly slipped his tongue inside not wanting to push him any farther than he wanted.
“Damn you!” Cerályië cursed him silently even as he surrendered his mouth to him.
“Saes Herdir.” (Please Master) Thranduil whispered, breaking the kiss after long moments yet brushing his lips as he spoke. “I cannot stay here.” He said quietly, his voice thick with emotion as he felt the tears leak silently from the corners of his eyes.
Pulling back from him, Cerályië could feel the pain in his voice as he stared silently into those clear sapphire eyes, now glistening with unshed tears.
“Believe me.” Thranduil began, his voice raspy with emotion as he paused to swallow the lump in his throat. “If this were another place, in another time. I could easily love you with all my heart. But I have a son, a beautiful son who I love and miss more than anything in this world.”
“I cannot let you go.” He said quietly. “At least not yet.” He added silently to himself, hating the tears that stung the backs of his own eyes as he looked down at the anguish on Thranduils’ face.
“Daedalus!” He called out, clamping down on his emotions as he pushed himself away from him and rose to his feet.
“Ayë hîr vuin.” (Yes my lord) The guard answered as he quickly entered the room.
“Dorinäélin and Edicûve, get them now.” Cerályië stated without taking his eyes off Thranduil. “Do not attempt to trick me with your words.” He stated as the guard left to do his bidding. “It is not your love I seek but your submission.” He continued, his tone growing deeper as he glared down at him. “I have neglected your training but I can easily remedy that.”
Thranduil felt the heat of his anger rise quickly as he glared back at him. Thoughts of Legolas, the pain and the loss he must be feeling filled him, knowing what he in particular had to be going through since his captivity propelled him forward with the intent of somehow overpowering the elf in spite of his unnatural strength.
Crying out as pain wracked his body, Thranduil felt the wind knocked out of him as he was thrown back in a crumpled heap on the floor. Gasping for breath, he stared in wide-eyed bewilderment at the elf as he struggled to understand what had just happened as he had not seen the elf even move toward him much less strike him. The beautiful face was frozen as if it had suddenly turned to stone as black eyes stared back at him without feeling.
“Get him on the horse.” Cerályië stated as the two guards hurriedly entered the room, his tone was as cold as his expression.
Recoiling instinctively as they approached him, Thranduil felt true fear for the first time since he had been taken captive. With the exception of that first day, until now the elf had only taunted him, played with him, even scolding him as if he little more than a misbehaving child. Remembering once more having sensed a power within him, something that lingered just beneath the surface. Weakened by the blow, his efforts were futile as the guards subdued him, dragging his struggling body toward the leather covered piece of furniture he had only experienced once before.
“I cannot let you love me.” Cerályië told him silently, tears stinging the backs of his eyes as he watched him fight the guards as they laid him over the padded hip support and stretched his arms forward, securing his wrists in the leather cuffs affixed to the wall in front of him. They spread his legs, securing his ankles to the thick oaken supports and buckled his hips tightly in place to keep him from moving.
“Long ago someone much like yourself taught me the truth about love.” He told him as he reached out, raking his nails down his back and over the flesh of his backside. “I learned that lesson well, love is nothing but a fools dream.” He stated, bringing his hand down hard on one side of the bare flesh of his backside, soliciting a sharp and painful yelp. “As tempting as you are my sweet pirá mûl (little slave), I will not be fooled again.” He said, dropping another hard blow to the other side, swallowing the lump in his throat as Thranduil cried out once more.
“Saes Herdir!” (Please Master) Thranduil choked out as he continued to struggle against the leather cuffs that bound him.
“How easily you pretend to know your place when you want something from me.” He taunted him even as he struggled to compose himself, thankful that Thranduil could not see him. “I told you before, I derive as much pleasure from your pain as I do your pleasure.” He continued, his tone was quiet as he thought about those tender evenings he had shared with him in front of the hearth, how willing and easily his body had responded to him.
Struggling to gain control of himself, Thranduils’ anger continued to rise, both toward the elf and himself for acting so rash. Dropping his head down onto his outstretched arms, he concentrated on his breathing, trying to squash the fear that churned in his stomach and rose like bile in his throat. His own thoughts mirroring Cerályiës’ as he unwillingly thought of how the elf had felt in his arms, the tender kisses they had shared in front of the hearth. Something deep inside him told him the elf would not truly harm him and he clung to that feeling, praying that it would sustain him for what he knew was coming.
Picking up the leather strap, he brought it down hard across his backside, cringing inwardly as Thranduils’ sudden scream filled the room. He reached out impulsively to gently touch the bright red stripe across creamy flesh of his backside, the soft skin was so warm as the blood rushed to the surface.
Again the strap fell brutally biting into his flesh as he heard himself scream. Over and over they fell, his body arching painfully until his screams faded into hoarse gasps against a parched throat. Trembling uncontrollably, he lay across the padded support, exhausted from both the pain and his struggles. Tears flowed freely down his face, each one glinting in the lamplight as they fell in tiny droplets like stars falling from the evening sky. Tears of pain, sorrow and the cruelty of his humiliation as he realized the elf was not finished with him.
“I will not always have the time to properly prepare you.” He heard the elf’s voice as he felt him spread the familiar herbal save liberally over his entrance. Painful whimpers escaped his lips as he felt his finger thrust into him with none of the previous gentleness. All too quickly it was joined by the second then the third as he worked him, stretching him. Gasping as he felt him penetrate him like a spear as he buried himself completely in one hard thrust. There was no gentleness, no love, nothing but an animalistic rutting as he raped him.
“You are now nothing more than a vessel for my pleasure.” Cerályië stated as he pulled free of him. Although he had relieved himself, there was no feeling of satisfaction or pleasure in what he had done. “This will make sure you are always ready to receive me.” He told him as he picked up the leather covered wooden phallus, pressing it into the already abused and swollen entrance. Slipping the thin leather strap through the slot on the exposed portion, he buckled it to the strap running across his hips to ensure he would be unable to expel it.
“Try to get some sleep if you can.” He told him, patting him on the head as if he were nothing more than a favored pet. “I will see you tomorrow.”
~*~
“Thank you for staying as long as you have Lord Elrond.” Legolas said quietly, casting him a slight smile that did not reach his pale blue eyes as they left the council room.
“I will be here as long as you need me Legolas.” Elrond told him, clasping his shoulder firmly. “In truth, Imladris will be fine without me. Erestor can handle things quite well in my absence. Your father is one of my closest friends and I will not leave his son in his time of need.”
“My father always speaks very highly of you.” Legolas commented as they made their way toward his private chambers. “I know the Lord Garävegión also served under my grandfather which makes him far more qualified to handle these things than I right now.”
“Your mind and heart are understandably elsewhere right now.” Elrond stated, smiling warmly at him. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing remarkably well under the circumstances.” He added as they entered the antechamber that divided his private rooms from those of his father.
“Rûingäraf.” Legolas acknowledged the guard as he opened the door for them.
“Hîr vuin.” (My Lord) The guard responded quietly, pulling the door closed behind them.
“Galion.” Legolas greeted his fathers’ personal servant quizzically as they entered his pubic sitting room.
“Hîr vuin, (My Lord) your meeting went well past the midday meal.” Galion said quietly, wringing his hands a bit nervously as his gaze flickered between the two. “I hope you don’t mind but I took the liberty of bringing you something and I put a kettle of tea in the hearth in case you wanted it.”
“Thank you Galion.” Legolas shook his head yet smiled warmly at the servant. “I appreciate it but I am not my father, you need not fuss over me so much.”
“It is not a bother.” Galion replied quickly. “I don’t mind at all, actually I am in desperate need of something to occupy my time.”
“Well, I thank you.” Legolas repeated himself, still smiling. “I assure you, I will have no further need of you this evening.”
“Ben iest gîn, hîr vuin.” (As you wish, my lord) Galion stated, nodding in a respectful bow and quickly departed.
“This is difficult for everyone.” Elrond stated as they moved toward the two chairs in front of the hearth. “Perhaps so much more so for you.” He continued as he noted the two tea cups on the low table between the chairs and stepped closer to the hearth, cautiously touching the tea kettle to measure its readiness.
“His is my Adar (Father), yes I would feel his absence doubly so.” Legolas sighed heavily as he sank down into the comfort of the worn chair.
“Only doubly?” Elrond asked, arching a brow as he poured them both a cup of the tea.
The air hung heavily between them for long moments as the older elf returned the tea kettle to the hook in the hearth. Making himself comfortable in the chair opposite him, one corner of his full lips curling in a knowing smile.
“I have already explained, I was drunk and it was nothing more than a fantasy.” Legolas stated defensively as he leaned forward to retrieve the tea cup, wishing it was a goblet of his fathers’ strong Dorwinion wine instead. “He is my father it is natural that I would love him very much. He is very beautiful and I’m sure more than half the kingdom romanticizes about him.” He added, feeling the now familiar heat of his embarrassment rising from beneath the high collar of his formal robes.
“I’m sure you’re right.” He replied, watching him from over the rim of his cup as he took a sip. Smiling to himself as he recalled the conversation with Thranduil a few years ago. Looking at him now in a different light as he remembered the passionate kiss only a couple of days ago, he more than understood the attraction.
“Romanticize is an interesting choice of words.” Elrond continued, paused to take a sip of the tea. “I think you should know that your father came to me a few years ago. He was concerned about his feelings for you.”
The tea cup rattled noisily as Legolas hand trembled, his pale blue eyes widening conspicuously as he stared at the older elf. He felt his stomach turn into a jumble of knots as the knowing smile curled the other elf’s lips, the soft gray eyes seemed to study him in that way that only Elrond could as if he could see right into your fäë (soul).
“The bond between you and your father is stronger than any I have seen.” Elrond stated, smiling warmly as he watched the color creep into the young elf’s fair cheeks. “He fantasized about you long before he had any inkling that you would be amicable to his advances. I wasn’t sure until I arrived here that he had actually acted on those feelings.”
“So you know.” Legolas stated, looking away from him as his shoulders slumped under the weight of his drunken confession.
“I know Thranduil.” Elrond chuckled at the discomfort the young elf displayed. “Once his mind is made up on something, he will act as he sees fit.”
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Of Light and Shadow