Title: Gift of the Hidden Hero {Chapter 4: A Curse for Legolas}
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters/Pairings: Haldir/Legolas, Thranduil, Glorfindel, Elrond, OCs
Words: ~ 4,420
Warnings: character deaths, violence, torture, rape/non-con, and MPREG. WARNING for this chapter: Very dark. This chapter contains rape, torture, and emotional turmoil of going through the ordeal. Also contains thoughts of killing one's own unborn child.
Rating: hard R for this chapter
Summary: The night Legolas's mother died left behind many scars. Year later Legolas is faced with the same horror of his past, leaving him with wounds too deep to be cured by any healer's hands. What can Haldir do to help him?
Disclaimer: Belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Prompts: [livejournal.com profile] tmission_insane : 07. Cave {Geography Table}
[livejournal.com profile] tamingthemuse : 219. rune stone (week 12 submission)
Notes: Please pay attention to the warnings!
Very dark chapter here. Things hopefully will get better from here, though the journey to healing will be long and difficult. And unfortunately, I don't know when's the next time I can post a new chapter. I can get one chapter done per week, but with the intense school program I am currently in, this will mean that I am slowed down considerably. However, I will still be working on it, if not at a slug's pace. :)

Chapters: Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Boromir wiped the sweat from his brow. “Do you have any lead, Aragorn?” They had been running all night and far past the rising of the sun with never a moment of rest. Aragorn had picked up on the scent of Legolas and another being whose scent he found familiar but couldn’t find a name for. At that moment, Aragorn was on one knee, a hand roaming around a patch of grass. Boromir watched him, feeling unhelpful. Not too far off, Gimli was busy steading his breath. He had refused to stop, so great had his friendship with Legolas become, but in time the length of the travel had far outworn him.

“For miles we’ve ran,” Gimli gasped out between deep breaths. “And still we find no sight of Legolas. What beast has captured him?”

“I do not know - there is something here,” Aragorn said, taking a few more steps before kneeling down again. He held up a single white flower for them to see, the one that was wrapped around Legolas’s bow. It was crushed flat and half the petals plucked out, covered with the blood that also stained the flattened ground beneath them.

* * *

The blindfolds were removed and Legolas looked up to see a stone door leading into a cave. The area around them was unfamiliar, but it was the least of Legolas’s worries. The terror still pooled inside him; his heart had never settled throughout the journey, his mind still raced with all that had happened since his abduction. And though his wrists and ankles were not bound, Legolas could not move. Glorfindel did not need any physical means to keep him in his place.

As if he read Legolas’s mind, the elf lord grinned down at him before turning his attention back to the door. His hand scanned around the smooth surface of the door, leaving behind a trail of blood. A series of runes appeared, but they were not like the elven runes that Legolas’s father had once taught him.

Glorfindel caught his eye and grinned again. “I have been working hard to make this cave just for you. You live in caves, do you not? You should feel at home here.”

He grabbed Legolas by the hair and dragged him into the cave. The stone door slammed shut behind them, echoing ominously in the pitch darkness.

The demon inside Glorfindel heard Legolas whimper, but he did not punish the elf; his own mind was remembering the bliss he felt as he ravished the elf. How great it was to occupy this body! The desire to experience this euphoria again was consuming him. He heard Legolas whimper again, and the demon groaned, for Legolas’s beautiful voice was making the desire greater. He tucked his leggings down and approached the elf in the dark, his demon eyes sharper than the elf prince. He easily found Legolas’s mouth, and with a strong thumb he pushed his way through the soft lips, forcing Legolas to open his mouth.

A gasp followed that quickly turned to a strangled scream as the demon shoved himself into Legolas’s mouth.

“Do not think of biting down, or your head will be torn from your body before you can escape,” the demon hissed. Legolas replied with more whimpers. The demon laughed. How he enjoyed this feeling, how lucky elves were to feel such emotions. But how much more enjoyable will the pleasure be once he sunk his teeth into the elf, so he gripped Legolas’s head in his hands and finished himself off quickly before scooping low to drink from the elf’s vein again. Legolas’s shrieks of pain were offset by loud gagging noise as he vomited everything he was forced to take in.

“You do not like the way I taste?” the demon said, laughing darkly. “Perhaps you may enjoy the taste of your own blood.” He kissed Legolas deeply, hungrily lapping at Glorfindel’s seed which only served to ignite his great lust further. Legolas seemed to sense the growing lust, for he vainly struggled against the invisible binds.

But no matter what he did he could not move away, and he was pinned to the ground again, subjected to a pain that pierced into his very core. As he lay sobbing loudly on the ground, the demon settled back against the cave wall as though watching a mildly entertaining play. His content smile turned into a leer when Legolas banged his forehead against the ground, screaming at the Valar for not taking his soul.

“There is nothing you can do to escape me,” the demon said. “Your soul is bond to your body. You cannot leave Middle-earth.”

The broken elf did not reply, unable to do so from the crying. “I will find a way to kill myself if it means you will never take another drop of blood from me,” Legolas finally managed.

The demon’s laughter echoed in the cave. “I expected that you would try, which is why I brought the bowstring.” He stretched the long strand of hair. “This elf is the center of your heart. I have spied on the two of you from afar during your stay at the Golden Wood. How sweet is thine love for the elven guard, and how tragic this love shall turn. Would you believe him to return to you after you have so willingly gave your body to me?”

Legolas grit his teeth. “I do not offer you my body!”

“Your body suggests otherwise,” the demon said. “And look! It calls for me once more! Already your body rejects Haldir!”

Legolas moaned in pain, his face burning red at seeing his body’s reaction. He had no control over his body; he was certain the demon was controlling him to react in this manner, much as how he controlled his ability to move.  

As though he were thinking along the same lines, the demon scooped down and took Legolas in his mouth again. Legolas felt bile rise in his throat as the guilt crushed him. How different Glorfindel’s tongue felt inside his mouth, nothing like the warm tenderness that was Haldir. Glorfindel’s eyes were wide open, staring down into Legolas with a smugness that Legolas wished he could destroy, for Legolas’s body responded further to the uninvited kiss.

When they pulled away, Legolas covered his face in his hands. Never had his body responded to this extent whenever he kissed Haldir, not even when they lay in bed with their bodies pressed together. There was the intense need to bond with Haldir, but the feeling was far kinder, more sweet and innocent. That which men would call lust didn’t dominate the need to bond, though the desire to have their bodies touch was there. But there was a profound sense of love in the need, to be close to one who Legolas wished to remain with forever. And this feeling dominated his heart rather than his loins.

The feeling which accompanied him now was nothing but pain and fear. He was a stranger to lust, and he felt disgusted at himself for how the feeling clouded his thinking. No matter how his body responded, Legolas did not want to bond with Glorfindel for he did not love him. He did not want his body to be touched by one he did not love. He did not want his body exposed in this shameful manner. He did not want to be weak.

But every minute he was reminded of how weak he was. He was completely under the demon’s control, and when the demon licked around the base of his neck, he sent shivers down Legolas’s back.

“I possess every part of you,” the demon hissed in Legolas’s ears. “And you give in freely to me. How disappointed Haldir will be if he knew!”

And as Glorfindel possessed Legolas’s body, the young prince imagined seeing Haldir in his current state, imagined the look of hurt and anger in his eyes. And as his body erupted in pleasure, Legolas’s heart and mind screamed in agony for Haldir.

Trembles wrecked his body afterwards. It did not matter how many times he went through this horrid ordeal. His entire being was ripped apart from the inside; a dull pain in his stomach quickly burned till he had to struggle for breath.

“Again you betray Haldir’s trust, and again you use me! A most vile elf you are!”

Legolas brought his arms around his head for the blows that soon followed.

“You’re raping me! I do not want you!” he screamed.

“And you lie!” The demon laughed coldly. “A being such as yourself deserves no sympathy! For your revolting behavior, a punishment is most needed.”

Legolas shivered at the maniacal tone in the demon’s voice. He disappeared from his view for a while, and when Glorfindel appeared he was carrying the broken bowstring with Haldir’s hair strand still attached.

Legolas’s eyes widened when he spotted his own long knife in Glorfindel’s hand. The demon grinned as he straddled Legolas.

“As I am sure you have noticed by now, I have great control over all that surrounds me,” the demon said. “And soon you will witness how great is my command of all around me.”

He brought the knife to Legolas’s abdomen about two inches below his navel, and Glorfindel chuckled at the horror look on the elf’s pale face. Legolas struggled again against the invisible binds helplessly. “Oh, yes, first I need a strand of hair from you.”

He reached over and tug at Legolas’s hair until one painfully parted from his scalp.

Legolas cried out, shaking his hair back. “What do you plan to do with me?”

But the demon ignored him for the rest of the ritual. Strange words he spoke, foreign on the lips of a creature so fair. With his hands he brought a glow to Legolas’s abdomen, and when the glow grew brighter, he drove the knife deep, eliciting a shriek from the prince.

Legolas kept his eyes shut throughout the period as the pain lasted. Then he opened one eye partially to dare a look at what the demon was doing to him. He caught sight of the golden and silver strands being interwoven, and for a moment he was close to crying as he remembered the nights he spent in Haldir’s arms, their long unbraided hair mingled together.

Suddenly the demon grabbed the open wound he had made in Legolas’s abdomen and deep inside he tucked the entwined hairs, all the while chanting in a tongue that made Legolas’s hair stand on end. The glow around his abdomen, once white, now turned a vivid red that seemed to fill the entire cave, and at that moment Legolas was hurled through a pain unlike anything he had ever felt before.

He knew not whose names he screamed out in his torment, nor was he aware that the demon was laughing coldly. The pain spun around and inside him, centering on a small spot in his abdomen. Finally, when it seemed like Legolas would faint from the intensity of the experience, the pain subsided. The glow dimmed out, leaving behind a thin, barely visible scar on the spot where the demon had cut him open.

Legolas was freely crying, feeling another part of him disappearing along with the glow. This was becoming too much for him to bear; his heart begged not for the first time for Mandos to deliver him of this cruel agony. He tentatively propped himself high enough to study the area on his stomach before turning to look at the leering face of Glorfindel, who resumed to settling himself against the cave wall.

“Do you wish to end your life now,” Glorfindel asked, “when inside you beats the tiny heart of Haldir’s child?”

* * *

Legolas did not need constraints. After each violation, he was left bleeding in the dark cave, left to scream in agony as he felt the walls collapsing in on him.

Each day the demon was crueler to Legolas, at times draining him of his blood till the elf’s own soul seemed to finally able to leave his body. But the drink the demon had forced drowned Legolas’s throat ensured that the elf never died, giving the demon a chance to replenish the elf’s blood. Legolas did not starve indeed, for he was regularly fed special foods, drinks, and elixirs that aided his body in replenishing the blood supply. He would have refused these offerings had he not had the knowledge that inside him a new life was growing.

But to die was what Legolas wished for most, to be free of the constant excruciating pain and terror that held him in an iron grip. Deep within was a tiny wish for the unborn child to die, to free him of this curse, this added burden.

Every moment when he had his eyes closed he felt strange hands roam over him, heard whisperings of voices of many tongues speak to him, and his mind would set on fire and his body racked with shrieks that he was not even aware of uttering.

And each day, the torment grew worse, and soon Legolas’s body could no longer heal the wounds inflicted through his thin frame, could no longer respond to the powerful foul-tasting elixirs he was forced to drink.

The demon did not see this as any cause for alarm. He was too consumed in the bliss of ravishing Legolas any chance he got, never turning down a chance to run his tongue through trails of blood, and never tiring of thrusting deeper into the trembling elf.

The demon used the beauty of Glorfindel to charm anyone he met, oftentimes to use them as part of his sick pleasure. To a group of Orcs he offered them Legolas, and he watched the assault with mirth, growing stronger with each shriek, each rip of flesh, each spill of blood and tears.

He had done the same with a group of men, but to them their lusts needed to dominate all over desires. One by one they used Legolas for their own pleasures, and no action was prohibited. The more they tormented Legolas, the more the demon fed. He kept them under his wicked spell, encouraging them to tear down all their restraints that have held them back in the past. To Legolas there was nothing that they could not do. Each man did as he pleased, bringing out every bit of anger, every forbidden act that they kept buried deep in their hearts and minds. To Legolas he got to see the darkest side of men, and to the demon he enjoyed every moment that he witnessed.

But not all men stayed under the demon’s spell. There was one, the youngest of the men, who became aware of what they were doing. He spoke naught to his fellow men, for the spell was clear in their eyes and they would have killed him if disturbed; and the young man was too distracted and disturbed to see the source of their spell.

He rarely saw elves but knew from stories that they were fair creatures, and though Glorfindel was one of the fairest the man had ever seen, there was a fire in his eyes that spoke of evil, a foreign beast that was possessing the elf’s strong body.

And a horrible shriek alerted him back to the elf receiving their aggression. His begs of mercy had turned into horrible shrieks that made his body go cold. The elf was dying, the man could sense, and not just in body. His soul was being strangled from deep within, and the man was surprised to realize how deeply he felt the elf’s sorrows.

“Someone must help this elf, for I alone cannot fight these men,” the man thought. He glanced back at the elf with the demonic grin, engrossed in the brutal display, and he slipped away before anyone would notice his absence. And indeed, no man ever noticed he was gone, not even when they were led far from the bleeding elf and freed from the spell that bound them.

* * *

Pain shot throughout Glorfindel’s head. He held his head, rubbing his temples before looking about him. There was an elf, naked and shivering. Glorfindel gasped at the sight of the bruises and cuts that covered the young elf’s thin body. A horror ran through him, for he had never seen such atrocities done to an elf before.

He got onto his knees and set a hand on a bony shaking shoulder. “Friend, what is the matter? Who has done this to you?”

The elf looked up. It was no one Glorfindel had ever met, but his heart stilled at the sight of the devastation that swam deep in the elf’s eyes. There was much trauma and hurt, and an incredible fear that he could almost taste.

“The elf fears me,” Glorfindel thought, growing more confused. “Why does he fear me?”

“What ails you?” he asked, trying to make his voice as gentle as he could lest the elf sought to run away.

The elf kept staring at him with wide eyes filled with a strange madness. Suddenly he grabbed Glorfindel’s arms and in a broken voice yelled out, “Help me! Please! The demon-”

But Glorfindel’s eyes had already glazed over. The moment his nose picked up the scent of blood, the demon broke out, sending Glorfindel back deep into his mind. The elf Glorfindel only felt his soul rattled inside his body and then was no more, no longer conscious that the demon was pinning Legolas to the ground, laughing loudly and mocking the poor elf crying and screaming for help as his body was torn open. The scent of Legolas’s fear intoxicated Glorfindel’s mind, blinding him further to the begs for him to stop as he dug his fangs again into the slender neck, drinking the fresh flood of blood that gushed into his mouth.

* * *

Boromir lost count of how many days had passed since they begun their search for Legolas. He was ready to suggest to the group to abort their search and seek rescuing the hobbits.

As Aragorn was studying the trail they have been following, they saw a young man, face pale and full of worry, come hurrying towards them. Gimli gripped his axe, but Aragorn motioned to him to relax.

“Well met,” Aragorn greeted the man. “What is your name?”

“Leofwine I am, son of Leofric,” the man said.

“I am Aragorn and I travel with Gimli son of Glóin and Bormoir son of Denethor. There is something that troubles you.”

“What I have seen is terrible,” the man said. “I was traveling with my party when we were suddenly put under a maddening spell. A voice commanded us to do as we pleased to this elf that was offered to us.”

Boromir and Gimli glanced at one another.

“How did the elf appear?” Aragorn said. “We are looking for a friend who has been lost.”

“Young,” the man said. “His hair...I can only guess it was golden once, for he’s covered in blood. I cannot describe him in any more words. There is not much else I can say that can identify him as your friend. He’s been tormented to the point that I fear for his life!”

“What were the men ordered to do?” Aragorn demanded.

“To have our fun, to inflict all our desires and anger at him. He...he’s been taken against his will.” Aragorn gave a sharp intake of breath but said nothing. “And we did as told, for many days this has been going on.” The man shivered. “I was the first to come out of the spell. We are being controlled by some demon inside another elf, a very powerful elf.”

“A possessed elf?” Gimli said incredulously. “I have never heard of such-”

“Take us back to their camp,” Aragorn said.

Leofwine paled. “I fear returning...the demon is very powerful.”

“You have nothing to fear,” Aragorn assured him. He motioned for Boromir and Gimli to ready their sword and axe, and they followed Leofwine.

* * *

The world turned ever the darker around Legolas. Blood continually dripped from him, his body long since having lost the ability to heal. His lungs fought for air, and a sharp pain ran down his spine. He had long given up on crying for help. The men were gone, their game finally over, and Legolas knew not where they went. But a tiny voice continued to whimper for someone to give him mercy, hoping that somehow one of them would return and show him kindness.

He knew not also where Glorfindel had gone, but it mattered not. Soon he would be back, perhaps bringing in more Orcs or men to continue breaking him. With shaking hands he gripped his stomach, wondering if the child inside had yet died.

“How horrible is this life,” Legolas thought darkly. “Leave this world before you see its horrors, child! Leave me!” And he cried further, not wishing to be abandoned by the only companion he had.

The door with the strange runes cracked open, and Legolas let out a horrified cry in anticipation of the next round of abuse.

“Why do you fear me so, Greenleaf?” Glorfindel’s sweet, mocking voice carried throughout the dark cave. “Have I not showed you nothing but love since I brought you to your new home? Have I not showered you with a love that Haldir denied you?

“But, look! Haldir’s own child sleeps inside you. Did you go to him while I had my back turned to you? Such a disgraceful elf!”

His fingers wrapped around Legolas’s throat as he said this, and now he squeezed Legolas’s neck. Legolas could not stop the tears from falling; indeed, he could no longer fight anything anymore. He let his tears fall, his body trembling under the cold grip of the demon.

“Must I remind you again of what my love grants you?”

The demon bent over to sink his teeth inside him once more, and that was when there was a sudden whoosh heard through the air, and the demon gave a horrified cry, releasing Legolas from his grip.

Darkness consumed Legolas before he could see his saviors.

* * *

Aragorn sheathed his sword Andúril, his face still pale at the monster he had attacked. Never in his life he would imagine the identity of the beast.

“I have known Glorfindel all my life,” Aragorn thought, studying the direction to where the elf had fled the moment he slipped from his grasp. “This cannot be the great elf lord acting with his own mind.”

He turned to his company. Boromir and Gimli shared equally shocked looks.

“Aragorn, I would say my eyes have fooled me,” Boromir said. “But it seems you have seen the elf’s face yourself. Is it true then? This is the same elf who I met in Rivendell?”

“Do not think about this now,” Aragorn said. “Wait here.”

He lit a torch before stepping into the dark cave. He had knowledge of what happened to elves who suffered violation, but it did not stop his heart from wrenching when he saw Legolas. There was nothing left of the elf he knew as part of the Fellowship. He knew little about Legolas, having had little contact with him, but he appreciated the elf for his good spirits and keen eyesight, and for the short time they were friends before Legolas was captured.

He gently called out Legolas’s name as he stretched out a hand to touch him. Legolas did not respond to the touch, so Aragorn moved closer to study the damage. There were deep bite marks along Legolas’s neck and shoulders. Legolas’s face was deathly pale, and the corner of his lips were turning blue.

Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan galad,” Aragorn chanted. “Legolas, listen to my voice, and return to the light.”

Suddenly Legolas gave a horrible cry full of terror. Finally able to control his body again, he sought to kick the intruder away from him.

Startled, Aragorn’s arm flew back and the torch toppled to the ground, engulfing them in darkness.

“This is Aragorn who is with you,” Aragorn whispered gently. “Av-'osto, av-'osto. Have no fear. You are among friends.”

Aragorn wrapped the bleeding elf in the grey cloak the Lórien elves had gifted him. Legolas gave a weak whimper and a startled gasp. “You are among friends,” Aragorn whispered gently into Legolas’s ear again. “Stay with us, mellon.”

He stepped out of the cave to meet the worried looks of his three companions.

“We must get Legolas back to Lothlórien!” Aragorn told them. “I fear my healing will not be enough for him.” He turned to Leofwine. “We are in great debt to you, friend.”

“My men’s camp is not too far,” Leofwine said. “If they have not moved on already, I may get you some horses for your journey. But I fear my men may still be under the demon’s spell.”

Aragorn sent Boromir to travel with Leofwine while he stayed behind, seeking any way he could heal the elf before they journey back to Lothlórien. He did this without fully exposing Legolas lest Gimli saw the full extent of Legolas’s wounds. But this only served to worry the dwarf more.

Leofwine and Boromir finally returned with two horses.

“It is strange,” Leofwine said. “My men had no memory of their heinous crimes.”

“Do not give them the knowledge of their wrongdoing,” Aragorn said. “They were under a spell, and remember you were also part of the curse.” Leofwine winced. “I will not punish you for you were acting against your will, as were your friends. Go back to your men and ensure they return to Rohan safely.”

“My king will gladly accept you should you travel past our land,” Leofwine said.

After he bid them goodbye and left, Aragorn turned to Boromir and Gimli. “Each of us must take a horse. There is much too blood leaving Legolas, and I fear we will lose him if he is not taken to Lothlórien immediately!”

Aragorn mounted on one horse with the wrapped Legolas in front of him; blood was already seeping through the elven cloak. In the other horse Boromir rode with Gimli riding behind him. After taking one final look at the ominous stone door of the cave, they set off.
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