Title: Darkness, Lies and Betrayal
Author: CheyenneDancer (cheyenedgr@aol.com)
Websites: http://www.slashcity.org/~cheyene/
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Darkness, Lies and Betrayal 3 - Shadow, Despair and Hope
By CheyenneDancer
Shadows slide into day, darkness fleeing the light. The air shimmered, the scattered remnants of fire slowly guttering into burning coals. The dark shroud of night hung on the edge of morning as if reluctant to leave and have Anor bring evidence of last nights' events into stark relief. The chill of night crept away, even as the warmth of day heralded the rising of Anor.
Wind picked up, whipping cloaks and hair wildly about the frozen tableau. An owl cried its message of doom, breaking the eerie silence. A chill of foreboding wormed its way up the elf's spine and he shivered, his eyes locked on Aragorn's. The man struggled to rise from his knees, to continue his fight in spite of his wounds and the hold the Uruk had upon his hair. Beneath the garish mask of dust and grime, Legolas could see the pallor of blood loss leaching color from the mortal's face.
"I will give you that which you have asked." Legolas spoke with quiet dignity, his musical voice cool and aloof in the early dawning.
"Legolas! No!" Aragorn's voice was cut off by a sharp cry as the evil creature gave a yank at the shank of tangled hair in his grasp, pulling Aragorn's head at a painful angle.
Ignoring Aragorn, Boromir narrowed his eyes, watching the elf's carefully wrought facade of calm. He grasped Legolas's pointed chin in a firm grip and forced the elf's face around until he could study the turmoil that roiled deep within the tortured blue eyes. "And what is it I have asked, little elf? There will be no misunderstandings here. I will accept no half measures."
Clenching his jaw spasmodically, Legolas jerked against the painful hold upon his face. He was unable to keep his gaze from darting towards Aragorn's kneeling form. Aragorn was watching them grimly, his face twisted by anger and pain. Blood oozed thickly from the wound gotten in his struggle with the Uruk-hai. Whether it be poisoned or not would take a closer examination.
Boromir followed the elf's gaze, snarling, he applied bruising force to Legolas's jaw bringing the elf's attention painfully back to the Son of Gondor.
Defeated, Legolas seemed to dim, the musical cadence of his clear voice touched by more than a hint of strain. "I will accept your caresses."
Legolas winced as Boromir gripped his pointed chin harder. The elf took a handful of deep, even breaths as if seeking to calm himself, yet his eyes played traitor to him still, giving evidence to his barely checked fury.
Boromir's breath caught in his chest. Legolas might be able to force his face into seeming placidity and exude a calm untouched etherealness, yet the elf's eyes would always betray him. There was no guile hidden in those stormy blue depths. Raging like the Bay of Belfalas during the gray winter storms, bleak fury sparkled deep within. Unwilling words were dragged from the man. "By the Lady, you are more beautiful than Ithil and twice as rare as mithril."
Small hope sparked in the azure gaze and Legolas opened his mouth as if to speak. Boromir shook his head, a determination writ upon his countenance. "No more waiting games, Legolas. Time flees before us and Aragorn's life is hung by a thread."
Reluctant seeming words crawled in painful slowness from Legolas's throat. "I give myself to you f-freely and in return I may choose Estel's fate."
It pained Boromir to hear the despair in the elf's voice. His grip upon the elf's chin eased as his heart tightened. He felt his throat close and his eyes tear. It was hard to tell if it was the carnage that tainted the air that made it so difficult to draw breath. And surely, it must be the cloud of ash that hung like a pall in the air that pricked his eyes so very sharply. Tenderness showed for a moment as he gazed upon this being who would willingly sacrifice himself for a hopeless love.
Sensing the change in the man, Legolas strove to reach Boromir. "Boromir." His soft voice carried quiet urgency, "Do not do this thing. It is not too late. You must fight the influence of the ring. It is not you."
Hardening his heart, the Man of Gondor gave the youthful-seeming elf a lust-filled gaze. "I will not surrender what is mine by right."
Legolas raised his bound hands between them, beseeching, "The ring cannot be wielded by any mortal man. It answers to the Dark Lord's command alone..."
A harsh laugh bruising in its mockery cut across Legolas's entreaty. "You misunderstand me, little elf. The ring goes to Sauron by way of Isengard. Let Saruman and the Dark Lord fight over it like dogs in heat. It matters not to me. I have what I desire." Boromir pulled Legolas towards him until Legolas's bound hands rested on his chest and his lips were but inches away from the elf's mouth. He could see the labored beating of Legolas's heart in the rapid pulse of his throat. Boromir twisted his lips into a nasty smile. "You belong to me."
"You cannot own me. No one can own another, though you may lay claim to my body-"
Boromir gave Legolas's head a small shake, the man's eyes glinting like a basilisk's glare. He spoke coldly, "By your will and by your words, I own you. 'Twould be best that you do not forget." Releasing Legolas's chin abruptly, he caught the elf by his hips before he could stumble back. He jerked Legolas forcibly forward until their loins met.
"Give me your earnest, now. Then choose and I shall grant it you."
"Cur! You bring dishonor him and yourself!"
Angrily, Boromir released Legolas, giving the elf a slight push away. With stiff steps he strode over to the kneeling Dunedan. The Uruk-hai moved the sword from Aragorn's neck ever so slightly, as if reading the Gondorian's intent. Snarling, Boromir lashed out with his foot, striking Aragorn in his groin.
Save for the Uruk captain's hold upon the Dunedan, Aragorn would have curled in around himself. A pained cry shattered through the calls and cries of the Orcs that surrounded the tableau, calling out and mocking in a mix of broken Westron and the dark speech of Mordor.
Boromir felt some small satisfaction as he watched tears wind twin trails down the begrimed face of his rival.
From a distance he heard but did not recognize the sounds of the hobbits struggling with their Orcish captors. So focused was he upon this man who had won without attempt--without even *knowledge* of the precious gift the Dunedan had all but thoughtlessly thrown away--the heart of the elf that Boromir desired that he heard not the cries of pain as the Orcs lashed out at the halflings.
Pippin's voice broke through his regard, as the young hobbit cried his name in pain and fear. Jerking around, Boromir was in time to see a huge fist smash the little one to the ground. Merry was down upon the ground, one booted foot looking huge upon the hobbit's small body as the orc mercilessly lashed his arms in front of his body.
With quick deft movements, its black eyes gleaming with spite, lips drawn back in a mocking grimace, another Orc raised its hand to lash out at Pippin, again, as the youngest of the hobbits tried to struggle back to his feet. Pippin's eyes were huge in his face and he was staring at Boromir in pleadingly, as if he still could not believe that his friend had betrayed the company.
Helpless rage and confusion battled within Boromir and he snapped angrily at the Uruk-hai holding Aragorn. "Can you not control your creatures? I was told the halflings were to go to the Wizard of Isengard without harm!"
The Uruk's voice like ground glass scattered across the cacophony of the twisted beings leering and jostling about the clearing. The yellow glare of his beast's eyes meeting Boromir's with challenge. "Bind the halflings. Leave them. Watch them."
At the unrelieved stare of the strange creature, Boromir felt a trickle of ill ease tickle his spine. The Uruk commanded in that strange broken voice, it's evil eyes flicking between Boromir and Aragorn, "Finish this. The sun comes and the journey to Saruman is long."
Boromir met the challenge in that evil gaze levelly, his jaw jutting aggressively as his hand clenched upon the pommel of his sword. "You forget yourself. This is upon *my* terms. You master has sworn it. He has commanded it."
Growling, Saruman's creation gave Aragorn's head a vicious tug, forcing the man's head back at an awkward angle, sword so swiftly placed against the throat that a small trickle of blood wended it's way down the taut throat.
"Daro! Boromir! Saes... " Legolas's voice brought Boromir back over to the elf.
Twisting his hands through Legolas's hair, he brought the slender elf's face up forcibly. "I will have no more of your games, elf. No more delays. This you have chosen and this is your fate."
Legolas stood straighter, holding himself straight, gaze even. Boromir froze as he saw the expectation of violence written in the careful blankness of Legolas's face. This was not what he desired. He wished the elf's love, not his fear. A knot twisted in the man's stomach, as he perceived the bleak despair hidden deep within the deep blue eyes.
Gentling his hold, he let the soft strands of gold fall from his fingers. He cupped Legolas's face, running the ball of his thumb softly over the elf's full lips, imagining them smiling at him, opening freely and taking his thumb inside, suckling as was a lover's wont.
Hoarsely, Boromir spoke to Legolas quietly, as if it were only the two of them in the clearing. "I would have but a kiss from you, now, to seal our troth."
Legolas flinched, but nevertheless tilted his head, the effort it cost the elf to part his lips and accept the tender caress as Boromir lightly touched lips to his could only be guessed by the clenching of his bound hands.
Boromir tasted of those full lips, licking delicately at the opened mouth, nipping across Legolas's jaw before claiming the open mouth in a heated kiss. The Man of Gondor poured his love and lost hope into the touch of mouth upon mouth.
Cupping the face as if Legolas was made of the most precious of spun mithril, he tilted the elf's face up to deepen the kiss. Nibbling tenderly, as if they were lovers of long standing, with a loud groan, Boromir pressed his body against the unyielding elf's, his tongue thrusting into the sweet heat of Legolas's mouth, marking his territory, staking his claim and proclaiming his love.
Pulling away reluctantly, Boromir voiced the longing in his breast, his voice made husky by desire, "I would honor you above all others. I would bind you to me in the ways of Men and Elves."
Unable to hide the panicked look, Legolas glanced away.
Boromir a pang as sharp and painful as a sword thrust twisted deep within his chest. There had been tears in Legolas's eyes before he had turned and shame colored the sharp cheekbones. Even when he gently turned the elf back to look upon him, Legolas would not meet his gaze.
Aragorn jerked violently in his captor's grip, half rising from the kneeling position and nearly slicing his own throat on the blade of the sword. Fury lit a deadly fire in the gaze of the Dunedan, his voice erupting angrily, "Elves do not bind themselves where there is no love! You cannot have him. You will never have him."
Boromir turned, one arm possessively curled about Legolas's slender waist. With a smile more reminiscent of a frozen death mask, Boromir replied coolly. "You lie. Your own betrothed's family gives lie to your words. Else Celebrian would still dwell within the Halls of Rivendell."
Aragorn pressed his lips into a thin line, tossing sweat dampened hair out of his eyes, he proclaimed derisively, "You would sully one of the firstborn with your twisted desire."
Releasing Legolas, Boromir hovered over Aragorn, eyes ablaze, "I have had just about enough of you." Hatred threaded through Boromir's voice.
Aragorn neither flinched nor wavered and Boromir realized a reluctant admiration for the Dunedan. Of a surety, Aragorn could expect no mercy and the memory must still be sharp where but a few moments before Boromir had had the Dunedan twisting in pain.
As Aragorn shifted to meet Boromir's gaze, the Evenstar's crystal winked in the garish lighting. Dawn was swiftly creeping and the flames of scattered fires were slowly guttering to nothingness, and yet the jewel sparkled bright with hope and purity.
Irrational anger flared within Boromir. It was not fair that the Ranger--an exile from his people--should have the love of two of the Fair Folk. Two who were willing to sacrifice their lives for the worthless Dunedan! Boromir snatched the necklace from the kneeling man's neck, snapping the slender chain.
"You deserve neither mercy nor sacrifice." Boromir held the chain aloft, his eyes stone chips glittering with deadly promise as he met the Dunedan's outraged gaze.
"Give that back to me."
Snorting, Boromir set it to twirl, watching the bright rays as they seemed to emanate from the heart of the jewel. Light radiated from its center so like the beings that the jewels represented. "Whither you go, Mandos' Halls or Dol Guldur, you will not be needing this."
"That is not yours."
"Nor yours, anymore." So saying, Boromir dropped the precious trinket and trod it beneath the heel of his boot as he returned to Legolas. He ignored the cries of dismay from both the elf and the man.
The jewel splintered, and burst a small flame of light flaring, pulsing brightly, slowly widening to encompass the company. The orcs shouted in their fear and the light pained their eyes. The Uruk snarled his defiance until the light slowly flickered and died.
Boromir ignored the dismayed outcry of both Legolas and Aragorn.
Legolas stared at him with too huge eyes. "What have you done?"
"The sun touches the tops of the trees, little elf. And I have what I want. You have yet to make your choice. How fairs Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Isildur's heir? Shall I make the choice for you?"
Shaking his head in denial, Legolas glanced past Boromir, his eyes beseeching Aragorn to forgive him. "I would not see the Dunedan die a useless death. I choose life." Legolas spoke soft and clear, though his voice shook with battered emotion.
Something shattered in Boromir. Jealously, Boromir clutched at Legolas, taking the pouting lips in a ravishing kiss as if by force he could make Legolas love him. With barely concealed rage, he bit out his words short and sharp. "Granted. Though I do not think the Dunedan will thank you."
He stared at Legolas darkly for a few moments, before turning and gesturing to the Uruk-hai. "Bind him tightly. I would not have him plot some treachery behind our backs. Find what little has not been destroyed in this farce that we may use. I ride back to Gondor with my prize."
Pushing Aragorn flat, the Uruk-hai placed one booted foot on the man's back, keeping him forcibly pinned face down in the dirt. A flashing challenge at Boromir's assumption of leadership flickered and faded in the deathless eyes.
Boromir smiled grimly, he had no doubt that at some point the Uruk would choose to challenge him openly. He almost welcomed the thought, for it would give him something other to fight than the pain ripping through his heart. He wished Aragorn dead. He did not wish to see the Dunedan suffer needlessly. Nor did he wish to think of what he had done by turning over Isildur's heir to Sauron.
And it angered him that Legolas would choose that path for the Dunedan. If Aragorn were dead, then Legolas would be free to love again. There would be hope in his pledge. Fighting the Uruk-hai seemed a small thing compared to the chaos in his mind and heart. If only the Uruk would strike, the sting of a blade against flesh was more preferable to the tearing wound bleeding in his breast.
Snidely, Boromir added, "You may company me south along the foothills of the Misty Mountains. I doubt not that Saruman will ease our path through Isengard. There we shall part company. I, to fulfill my vow to Sauron and lay claim to my kingdom."
"You do not order my days, Man. And the journey is long. Watch your prize lest it vanishes from your grip. Elves do not make good prisoners." The Uruk smiled, a wicked promise of betrayal gleaming in the mask of it's tortured face, "Only strength will keep your prize. Many would challenge you."
Legolas stood still as a sun-touched troll within Boromir's embrace, all trace of emotion locked deep within. A shadow touched his eyes and he would not quite meet Boromir's as he spoke quietly, "Before we move I wish to check the injuries of the periannath--the hobbits--and Estel."
Boromir gave a short bark of laughter. "Do you think me foolish?"
"They cannot travel with their wounds untended. They could sicken and die. You would not be able to make good your words, either to me or your new master."
As if burned, Boromir whirled on the bound elf. "I have no master!"
Legolas raised his head staring for the first time since the kiss into Boromir's tortured gaze. "No?"
A stinging slap sent the elf stumbling backwards. "Do not test me, Legolas. You will not like the results." Boromir gestured toward Aragorn. "I have your surety there."
"You cannot use him to assure my continued good behaviour. You have all ready given me your word that he shall live."
"There are other things that can be done, to make your obedience certain."
Swallowing Legolas blinked back tears of frustration, "Boromir. The little ones need care."
Boromir dropped his eyes, glancing over towards the hobbits. His eyes widened in dismay as he took note of Merry's bloodstained coat. In the moment, he had forgotten that Merry had been wounded. Boromir felt broken, torn. He had that which he desired, yet why was so much darkness and despair? How had he ended up in the company of Orcs?
Mercy moved him, and he motioned to Legolas to go to the hobbits. "Care for them first, and then you may see to the Dunedan." He made of the word a curse, his face twisted as he fought with himself.
Legolas raised his bound hands, "Untie me."
Laughter bubbled up inside the Gondorian and he spoke scathingly, "Do you think me mad or stupid?"
"I have given you my bond."
"You shall not have your freedom. If you seek to use what little healing you have, then I suggest you do so now. When the orcs are through scavenging this camp for what little supplies remain untouched, then we leave. If you cannot do it bound, then they will have to do what they must to survive." In spite of his words, Boromir loosened Legolas's bonds somewhat, so that a rope looped about the slender wrists, but gave him a space of several centimeters with which to work.
Defeated, Legolas turned from him as Boromir went to pull various maps and supplies from his own saddlebags and trail pack. He hunkered down in the dirt, opening one or two, studying them with a frown.
Stray orcs scrabbled through the belongings of the fellowship seeking whatever prizes they deemed worthy to keep.
Legolas took a waterskin, one of the Uruk-hai Captain stopped in his movement to secure Aragorn. He hissed a command and a misshapen figure quickly scuttled over to the elf, silently handed him a tunic from one of the saddlebags and a pouch that Aragorn had kept.
Legolas shuddered under the lustful yellow gaze and dragged his thoughts from dark trails, forcing his thoughts to stay solely upon the difficult task of binding Merry's wounds with his hands tied.
With a light touch, Legolas searched out the wound, causing Merry to hiss painfully, his large blue eyes tearing. Pippin hunched as close to Merry as he was allowed, his mouth pulled down at the corners and his bottom lip trembling, tears ran unchecked down his face.
Legolas knelt, searching Merry's pale face. Though the hobbit was pale, it was not the pallor of death, and his eyes were lit with fury at their betrayal. Legolas looked at him with sympathy, he understood what was in Merry's heart and he prayed to the Lady that she would look after the little hobbits. "How do you fare, Merry?"
Merry's voice was harsh with pent-up pain, the pall of ash in the air burning his throat, "I am fine, Legolas. What about Aragorn?"
Legolas shook his head, "I do not know, little one."
"Will Merry be all right, Legolas?"
Legolas dredged up a smile as he sought to allay the little one's fears. "It is not serious, but must be kept clean and the bandage changed, else it could become diseased." Gently Legolas cleaned the wound with water brought by the Uruk's hissed commands to his troops. He refused to glance up from his task at either Boromir or the Uruk, both of whom he could feel staring at him.
He had not asked for this. And he was stunned by his blindness. That he had not foreseen this ate at him. He should have seen the danger. He had been so deep in his own pain, he had not protected the company. His bow had been all but useless. The only light in this darkness is that Sam and Frodo were not with them.
He fervently hoped that they had made their way forward. If they happened accidentally along the borders of Lorien, he was sure the Lady of the Wood would protect them. And aid them on their journey.
Determinedly he refused to think about Gimli, whose unmoving body was half-hidden behind some brush near a towering boulder. Clearing his throat he spoke softly to Pippin. "Watch what I do. I do not know if I will be allowed to tend this daily. But surely they will not refuse you. Not if you beseech Boromir's aid. He yet has some small consideration for you both. I have seen it."
Both hobbits stared at the elf in disbelief, but Pippin paid scrupulous attention to all that the elf did. Carefully, Legolas mixed some of the powder within Aragorn's pouch with the water, making a thick paste. With sure hands, he applied the poultice, securing a torn bit of the tunic about Merry's shoulder. "If you can get him to allow it, the bandage should be changed daily and a poultice made of the athelas applied frequently. It will help both with pain and infection."
"Will we be saved?" Pippin's tremulous voice asked.
Legolas felt his heart clench at the sorrow that surrounded the young one, his innocence hanging upon a balance that was severely weakened by Boromir's betrayal. "I know not, little one. But there is always hope."
Pippin's face fell and he turned towards Meriadoc, burying his head against his friend's shoulder, sobbing wretchedly.
"Merry." Merry looked up. "Merry, I regret to ask you to suffer more, but can you make some small distraction? Enough for but a moment's distraction?" He shook his head as the hobbit glanced at him with renewed hope, "Do not expect anything. I do not know what little good I can do. But that which I can, I shall endeavor. I will try to make this right."
Sadly, Legolas rose and moved towards Estel. He watched the Uruk warily as the flat-eyed gaze devoured him. "I have finished with the halflings. I would tend to the man, now." He shifted beneath the arrogant gaze, fingers flexing reflexively as he wished for a knife to hand. Feeling like a beggared relation, Legolas spoke firmly, "Boromir has said that I could tend him when I was done with the little ones."
The Uruk snarled a smile. "Elf. You are too soft." The Uruk gave Aragorn a swift kick to the spine before removing his foot. "You are meat." The Uruk licked his thin lips, grinning evilly he stepped back only a pace, forcing Legolas to work around him.
He helped Aragorn struggle to a sitting position. The Uruk stood watchfully, it's drawn sword at the ready. It was evident it was hoping that Aragorn would make some move that would allow it to maim or kill.
Aragorn was watching him blackly, a scowl transforming the beloved features. Legolas dropped his eyes as he grasped Aragorn's wrist, he fingered it gently, flexing it until Aragorn gasped and tried to draw his hand away.
"This is broken. It will need to be set lest it heal wrongly."
"Why, Legolas?"
Startled, the elf raised his gaze to Aragorn's tortured one. "I do not know what you mean."
"Why did you surrender? Why did you condemn me to slavery? I would rather have died than dwell under Sauron's reign. You know this. Why did you not choose to grant me the mercy of release?"
Licking dried lips, Legolas looked down at the large hand held between his two slender ones. "That is not a choice I could make."
"Boromir is right about one thing." Aragorn gasped as Legolas pulled his tunic from the clotting wound. With economical movements, Legolas removed the tattered filthy clothing, leaving Aragorn in naught but leggings. His fingers trembling, Legolas probed the deep gash.
He glanced up quickly to see Aragorn's grim gaze and then looked away again, concentrating all his energy on the task at hand. Another poultice was mixed and applied, and he tore several strips from the tunic in his hand and bound the edges tightly. Softly, he asked, sure he did not wish to hear Aragorn's words, "What is that?"
Between clenched teeth, Aragorn responded, "I will not thank you for your supposed mercy."
Legolas squatted back on his heels, there was a small scuffle and if Legolas had not been watching for it, he would have missed the Uruk's attention shifting swiftly over towards the hobbits. Quickly, his heart beating in his throat, Legolas slid the small ornamental dagger from his boot, into the back of Aragorn's leggings.
He was all ready helping the Dunedan back into the undertunic when he heard Merry cry out sharply. Legolas closed his eyes guiltily and spared another prayer for the hobbits. He only hoped that the Lady was listening and this was not his Doom for loving a mortal man. A man who had the heart of another.
The Uruk turned his gaze immediately upon his prisoners, but there was nothing to see. Legolas's voice spoke quietly in quenya, ~There is always hope, Estel. Wait for it. Watch for it. Patience.~
"QUIET! You will not speak that cursed tongue here." The Uruk's command brought Boromir back, his gaze moving between man and elf filled with distrust.
Boromir gripped Legolas by the back of his neck, hauling him roughly to his feet. Aragorn watched him with narrowed eyes and again Boromir felt sadness that this man now numbered among his enemies. Aragorn would have been an asset if Boromir could have persuaded him to cast his lot in with Gondor.
Anger and jealousy made him cruel and he ignored Legolas's protest as Aragorn was yanked roughly to his feet by the Uruk-hai. "Bind him."
The Uruk-hai pulled Aragorn's arms behind the man painfully. Aragorn was unable to hide a wince of pain as his broken wrist was wrapped about tightly with rough rope. The strands were twisted and his wrist was bound to his elbow. The Uruk-hai repeated the process with Aragorn's other arm, and then taking the remaining rope he created a rough noose, pulling Aragorn's arms high behind his back and looping the noose about the man's neck.
Grinning, the Uruk-hai stepped back. "Struggle. No air." The Uruk-hai gave Aragorn a violent shove. "Walk."
Boromir pulled Legolas backwards, holding the elf close to his body. They fell into a loose formation. The Uruk-hai with his human prisoner stumbling at the front of the line, the hobbits being carried by the Orcs who were in a hurry to leave the clearing behind and fade into the trees as the warm rays of sun promised to break free of the greying clouds. Boromir came last, his elven trophy shrugging off the Gondorian's hands to walk proudly, head held high.
As they passed the dwarf's hidden resting place, Legolas noted a slight movement. Hope brightened and he held his breath, casting his glance about the band to see if anything untoward had been seen.