Title: Darkness, Lies and Betrayal

Author: CheyenneDancer (cheyenedgr@aol.com)

Websites: http://www.slashcity.org/~cheyene/

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Darkness, Lies and Betrayal 7 - The Taste of Despair

By CheyenneDancer

 

Rage filled Legolas so that he could taste it like a bitter poison upon his tongue. He felt as if he were choking upon it and he was surprised that it did not spill forth from him in a blinding blast of light. It felt as if his very movements left a trail of bright colors in his wake much like Mithrandir's fireworks.

Legolas wished desperately for a weapon to hand yet knew he would not--could not use it. He was helpless and his very helplessness stretched his anger thin like an overwrought bowstring--waiting but the lightest touch to snap. It did not help overmuch that Boromir touched him near ceaselessly. Ignoring as best he could, the Man's hands upon his body, Legolas paced his breathing with his steps.

Boromir treated him as little more than a pet. Something to leash to his desire, to keep tethered to the Man's whim. It chafed the Elf more than anything that he had experienced in all his long life. Legolas bit back the desire to shout at the man, to protest that he was no animal! Keeping his expression carefully guarded; the Elf kept his head bowed, the fall of his pale hair curtaining his face from the Man's scrutiny lest Boromir take it into his head to punish Legolas anew for his audacity.

Shame warmed the Elf's cheeks at every glance from Boromir, every casual feathering of fingers against his unprotected flesh. Legolas wondered what the Man saw that he desired so greatly. He wondered how the Man's desires could be so twisted. He did not understand Men. He did not understand this need to possess and humiliate that which the Man could not have freely.

Legolas had loved Aragorn long. Yet not once had he entertained such thoughts. He would no more despoil the Dunédan's coming happiness than he would set fire to his home in Greenwood the Great. Though it had pained his heart to know that he could not claim Aragorn as his gwaedhofeämin-his life-mate, he had wished naught but joy of the Dunédan's union with Arwen Undómiel.

Doggedly, Legolas clung to the image he held of his dwarven friend. As they had passed from that ill-fated clearing, he had seen Gimli twitch his fingers and grasp the haft of his axe. With any luck, Gimli was well. Gimli would find them. And then, there would be a way out of this morass.

The Elf's thoughts ran in a constant chorus. Gimli was not dead. Hold fast until the dwarf could find them. Care was needed. Gimli was not dead. Surely, some good would come of that, if he could but contain his temper.

Elves were the firstborn, the oldest, the wisest of races.

His Father had told him these things from time out of mind. He had been taught the paths of patience. Yet never before had patience seemed to wear so thin. Never before had the young Prince of Mirkwood had to face such dire straits. Nothing in his tutoring had prepared him for this test of inner strength and forbearance.

Long into the night they walked. The forest was little comfort. What thoughts kept Legolas gravely quiet were hidden beneath a cool facade, only the fierce glitter of his eyes betrayed him. The Elf walked proudly, head erect, face carefully blank, though he did not stray far from Boromir. He accepted without protest Boromir's hands upon his body, though his lips would tighten now and again.

Aragorn found his eyes drawn to his friend time and again by flash of pale legs just below the hem of the silver garment. Occasionally his eyes would be drawn by a teasing glimpse of elven genitals. Once, when Aragorn finally tore his eyes from Legolas, he caught Boromir's too-knowing gaze locked triumphantly upon him. Moving uncomfortably, the Ranger could not help the flush that stained his cheeks.

Aragorn was bound and would remain so. His love for Arwen strong as ever--yet--he had not thought of Legolas in this manner before. And he would not by all that he held dear! Legolas did not need to have his best friend lusting after him. The Elf had been hurt enough!

Furious with himself, Aragorn allowed the burning rage to show in face and eye. Boromir flinched from it and grinned maliciously, reaching out and pulling the oblivious Elf tight against his body, as if daring Aragorn to say or do aught.

Legolas stumbled but did not fall; accepting Boromir's arm about his waist and the searching hand that slid along his flank as Boromir lifted the hem of the Elf's undertunic to expose the supple curve of thigh and buttock. Aragorn saw Legolas become rigid as Boromir did something invisible with his hand and the Ranger prayed that Legolas would object and strike out. It was a pity that Legolas had not killed Boromir when he had had the chance.

Anger, that did little good but to keep the Dunédan walking upright, boiled deep within him. Images of Boromir holding Legolas, touching him, piercing him upon his manhood and forcing the Elf to cry out in pain and shame plagued the Ranger. That any man would so befoul one of the Fair Folk raged through him. That Boromir, a supposed comrade and ally, had down such a thing to Legolas was unforgivable. Aragorn would kill Boromir when he got his chance. And he would not be quick about it.

Sensing the Ranger's attention upon him, Boromir could not resist a display of ownership. He slid his palm up Legolas' thigh, intentionally lifting the hem of the soft elven garment to expose the vulnerable curves beneath. Boromir touched his lips to the tip of Legolas' ear, whispering softly his voice amused and angry at the same time as he caressed Legolas, "He looks at you now. The way I look at you--your Ranger. Only now, I think, does he realize what treasure he has lost through his stupidity."

A scowl marred the Elf's fair features and Legolas spoke in clipped tones, his voice distorted by hostility, "He is not my Ranger. No one can own another. Never--*never*--would he look upon me as you do." Legolas' voice dropped lower, "He is an honorable and a noble man. Something I do not believe you can understand." Legolas could not keep his fury hidden; it filled his eyes with promise of violence. It were better to gird himself with anger than let himself drown in humiliation and despair.

Fury filled the depths of the deep blue eyes directed at Boromir. Laughing unpleasantly, Boromir gave a promising lick to the Elf's upswept ear, "That honorable man would take you like the whore you are, given half the chance."

When Legolas tensed, Boromir could not withstand the impulse to squeeze the curve of buttock. Pulling the Elf tighter against him so that he all but fell, Boromir brushed his fingers along the crease between the firm mounds of the Elf's buttocks. Legolas gave a surprised hiss, but whether he feared that any denial on his part would bring instant retribution, Boromir could not tell.

The feel of Legolas' flesh beneath his hand, the silken texture of skin over the flex of strong muscle, drove all thoughts of proprietary display from Boromir's mind. He found himself growing hard at the thought of lying with Legolas when they made camp.

Not soon enough did Boromir feel the slow change of night melding into day. Anor's rays touched the sky above the leafy canopy with streaks of orange and scarlet smeared across the brightening sky. The leaves above them rustled with secrets and their leaves shone like burnished gold. They had followed the running waters southward, but neither Lurtz nor his troop had gone near to drink, though several of the orcs had stood upon the banks and urinated like dogs marking their territory.

Uneasiness marked the orc-ish forces and Lurtz paced restlessly about the camp, his yellow eyes moving quickly over the beasts of his command, counting his captives and resting speculatively first upon the Dunédan and then upon the Elf. Boromir shot the Uruk-hai a warning look only to be met with a baring of fangs in a mockery of a grin.

Shortly after that silent challenge, Lurtz gathered a small contingent of orcs to him and started for the wood.

Boromir intercepted them hastily confronting the fell leader of Sauron's troops, for he neither trusted them nor desired for any of them to be out of his sight. Tersely, Boromir demanded, "What task takes you into the wood?"

The creature looked down from his great height with deadly cold intent, hatred burning like the fires of Orodruin deep in the beast's tortured eyes. In a voice like rusted metal dragging across slag, it answered, "You do not command me, aes. I lead. I obey. You--" The creature jabbed its finger into Boromir's chest painfully, "you are aes." It turned its great head, the lank dark locks like thick rope upon its shoulders, its fangs gleaming in the dim light. Lifting its chin, it indicated where the Elf sat disconsolately. "Aes."

The orcs laughed and chanted repeating the word over and over. "Do you seek to challenge me?" Boromir snarled, hand dropping to the pommel of his sword.

"Soon. Adan-neth. Soon." With a careless shrug, the creature strode past Boromir. Looking back, it gave Boromir an answer, as if he was a King granting the boon of an impoverished supplicant, "We do not eat herbs and roots. We will be back with meat and more." The creature had the audacity to salute Boromir with its naked blade before disappearing beneath the eaves of the trees.

Perhaps it was the restlessness of the orcs, perhaps it was something more, but Boromir found that he too was shooting continual glances at the overshadowing trees. It was strange the way the forest changed its nature here, just upon the other banks of the stream. Here upon the one side were trees of silver hue with golden leaves; deep shadows were beneath their boughs. Small flowers peeped from nests of soft grasses and the smell of spring flavored the air. Upon the other side, winter still in evidence. Frost touched the far edges of the dancing waters. Here and there lay the last melting remnants of the snowstorm that had chased them from Caradhras into the black pits of Moria.

Boromir turned and caught Legolas staring at him with his deep unfathomable eyes. A flicker of regret touched Boromir's heart that already the Elf was learning to guard his thoughts and his expression from him. There was something in the Elf's regard that disturbed him and it made the Son of Gondor uncomfortable. Held by Boromir's gaze, Legolas lifted his chin imperceptibly before looking away. Frowning, Boromir asked, "Do you know this Wood, Legolas?"

A quick flicker of something passed through the alien eyes of the Elf, before he shook his head, his fair hair falling across his face hiding his expression from the Man's view. "I have never been here before," he answered quietly.

Satisfied, Boromir gestured for the Elf to attend him. Though Legolas colored prettily, he did not gainsay the Man, adhering strictly to all that Boromir required of him. Together they set up their bedroll and when Boromir went to gather firewood for the night, Legolas quietly followed him.

Troubled, Pippin followed them with his eyes. "Merry," Pip's soft voice broke across Merry's concentration and the older hobbit gave him an encouraging smile. "Merry--what if--what if Boromir hurt Legolas?"

Merry shot Pippin a confused look; "Of course he's hurt--Oh." Merry colored brightly looking at his younger cousin. Somehow he had always considered Pippin less worldly than himself, and so he was often taken by surprise by some of Pippin's insights.

"Don't be thick, Merry," Pip looked at him apologetically, "I mean--could Legolas die? He's so pale and quiet. He was always quiet, but not like this. And he looks so sad--and..." Pippin trailed off, not quite sure how to express his concerns.

"I--I don't know, Pip. I don't know."

Merry and Pippin sat quietly together shooting concerned looks at Legolas when he and Boromir returned a few moments later. Legolas' arms were filled with dry wood and he drifted towards the small area Boromir had cleared earlier. There was a pallor to his face and though he must know they were staring, he did not lift his eyes to them once--not to offer encouragement nor to help bolster flagging spirits. Slowly, as if it were almost beyond him, the Elf began a fire.

Their friend had become a quiet shadow of himself. The Elf looked neither right nor left, nor did he seek out their company. Instead, Legolas seemed to withdraw more and more. The Elf seemed paler, somehow, and Merry was determined to speak with him, if he could.

Neither hobbit had missed the shameless display that Boromir had given for Aragorn's benefit, and Merry raged with the injustice. Though he knew that Legolas would never, by action or word, do anything that would bring harm to any of their company, Merry found himself wishing savagely that he would, even if it meant that he and Pippin would die. Death would be better than where they all seemed to be headed. Aragorn to slavery, he and Pippin to Saruman and Legolas to dwell an eternal captive behind stone walls, in the bed of a man who saw him as nothing more than a possession.

"Legolas." The Elf turned slowly to look upon Boromir. Legolas did not so much look *at* as he seemed to be looking through him. Watching the expressionless Elf, Boromir's lips tightened. "Remember your place, little Elf!"

Warily, Legolas focussed upon the Man and Boromir could have cried for the emptiness he saw in the deep blue of the Elf's eyes. "I do not forget."

How could four words sound so lost, so young? Legolas was by far the oldest among them, now that Gandalf was gone, yet at times he seemed the youngest. "Come here." Boromir held out his hand and Legolas walked over to him slowly and placed his slender fingers within the Man's large square palm. Boromir could feel the slight tremor in the hand that he held.

Giving a gentle tug, Boromir pulled Legolas down with him until they were both sitting beneath one of the gray-skinned trees. He pulled Legolas into his lap searching the Elf's face. Legolas sat still, his legs folded carefully, his head bowed, long blond hair a curtain of soft silk veiling his face. "Do not hide from me, Legolas. I do not seek to hurt you. It is only your refusal that causes such pain between us." Boromir cupped the Elf's face in gentle hands, his thumbs caressing the sharp cheekbones, before tilting Legolas' face up to him. "Why can you not understand that?"

Boromir lay a gentle kiss on the soft lips, his heart aching. He had proven he could force the Elf to obey him. He had won the right to touch Legolas' body and he could make him hard with need. Yet, the path to making this strange, elusive creature desire him yet escaped him.

Closing his eyes, Legolas remained unmoving, neither returning Boromir's caress, nor seeking to escape it. He opened his mouth and allowed Boromir access, ignoring as best he could the feel of the Man. The leather belt at Boromir's waist scraped the Elf's bare leg, he could feel the press of the Man's erection through the cloth of his breeches rough on Legolas' naked buttocks. It had come to Legolas that if he would think of Aragorn whilst Boromir held him, pretend that these attentions came from the noble Dunédan, it would ease his distress. But, Legolas would not--could not--associate the man he loved with the Son of Gondor.

Before Boromir could give voice to either anger or disappointment, Pippin's voice rent the early morning air. "Boromir! Boromir! It's Merry! Help!" Pippin still called to him. It was both a soothing balm and a flail to Boromir's torn spirit. Though he could do little in his power to protect the halflings now, what he could do, he would, for the grace of the young hobbit that would not lose faith in him, despite the Son of Gondor's betrayal of all that was good.

Gratefully, Legolas rose from his seat upon Boromir's lap. Glancing toward the hobbits, Legolas noted that Merry lay prone upon the ground. Forgetting to ask Boromir's permission, the Elf at once went to the halflings.

The orcs in charge of the hobbits grunted their displeasure and barred Legolas' way. Pippin looked up from where he was squatting, large eyes soulful in there pleading, "Boromir, something is wrong with Merry. I don't have enough skill to make him better. Please, Boromir. Let Legolas look at him."

Irritated at Pippin, one of the orcs snarled, hefting his meaty fist to strike Pippin a blow to quiet him.

Boromir seeing Merry lying all but lifeless upon the ground would have none of it. "Saruman wants the halflings unspoiled you dim-witted trolls. He will strip you of your hides and hang you upon the walls of Orthanc alive and bleeding if any harm befalls the little ones! And he will be the least of your worries!" Boromir wondered what he would do if the rag-tag band of orcs and Uruk-hai would not listen to him.

A great shambling creature, no less horrific than Lurtz prowled back and forth between the hobbits and the Man, its gaze as unfriendly as it considered what course should be taken. Finally, it lowered its head as if in surrender and spoke a series of sharp commands.

One of the orcs protested and the Uruk-hai solved the problem by gutting it with its black sword. Turning it cast a cold eye at the Elf, its mouth lifted in an unpleasant sneer, "Edhel. Melui-neth aes. Come help, then. Come, come melui-neth, I do not bite."

A chorus of amused calls and shouts answered this taunt. Legolas slid cautiously past the creature, aware that he was outnumbered. "When I find what insults you cast upon my bonded, you will taste good Gondor steel." Boromir swore, promising himself that both Lurtz and his lieutenant would taste the edge of his knife before all was said and done.

"Ugluk is scared." The creature grinned and spat.

Sliding his sword from its scabbard slowly, Boromir was halted by Legolas' voice. "Boromir, I need fresh water."

Slamming his sword back home, Boromir strode past the Uruk-hai, forcing him to move out of his way. For a moment, Boromir did not think Ugluk would move. That he would be forced to either skewer the creature on his blade now or lose face and walk around. What caused the beast to back down, Boromir did not know, nor did he care.

Legolas was kneeling by Merry's still form. He had turned the small hobbit onto his back and pulled open his shirt. Undoing the soiled bandages from Merry's shoulder, Legolas probed the wound with gentle fingers. "It is not hot to touch, but it is leaking pus."

Pippin spoke anxiously, "What does that mean, Legolas? Is Merry all right? Is he going t-to die?"

Shaking himself, from his own despondency, Legolas forced a smile for Pippin. "I am not sure why Meriadoc is unconscious, Peregrin. He should not be. His wound is not fevered. Pus is not a good sign, but I think we have caught it in time."

"Boromir?" Pippin looked up at him pleadingly.

For a moment, Boromir was transported to a time near the beginning of the quest, before they had reached the Gates of Moria, a time before darkness had befallen them. In Hollin, Boromir had taught both little ones how to use a blade.

Boromir remembered well showing both little ones how to fight with a sword. Instant regret had lanced him when he had accidentally drawn blood from Pippin. Both Merry and Pippin had taken immediate vengeance upon him, knocking him to the ground and tickling him unmercifully. Boromir remembered a time of laughter and felt shame.

Placing his hand on Pippin's shoulder, Boromir gave it a gentle squeeze. Pip looked up at him with shining eyes. Though he knew hobbits were not children, Boromir could not help the rush of protectiveness that swept through him. "We won't let him die, Pippin. Trust in Legolas' skill."

"The wound does not look to have been cleaned since first I tended it. I need water, athelas and something clean that I can use to bind it with." Reaching out, Legolas lifted first one and then the other of Merry's eyelids, examining the pupils. Frowning in concentration, Legolas ran his fingers along the edges of the hobbit's hair, seeking some bruise or contusion that could have caused Merry to blackout.

Boromir looked at Ugluk. "You heard him. We need clean water."

Snorting, Ugluk sneered, "Get it yourself, then."

Growling, Boromir rose to his feet. Legolas looked up in irritation, "Not here. Not now. Meriadoc needs our help, Boromir." Boromir paused, Legolas sensing that the Man might refuse him, Legolas spoke quietly, a thread of urgency weighting his voice, "Please, Boromir."

"I do not like leaving you here alone, Legolas." Boromir looked uncertain. He remembered too well the leers and suggestive remarks of the orcs and Uruk-hai even before he had put Legolas on display.

"He won't be alone, Boromir. I'll be with him." Pippin held himself proudly, though it was evident the poor little hobbit was terrified.

"Will you abandon Meriadoc to his fate already, Man of Gondor?" Legolas asked coldly.

Boromir narrowed his eyes at Legolas' disrespect.

"No!" Pippin shouted, panic writ large across his small face.

Before Boromir could take matters in hand, though, Aragorn's pained voice broke across Pippin's protest. "Perhaps that is for the best, Legolas. Neither Merry nor Pippin deserve the fate our *friend* has mapped out for them."

"You go too far, *Dunédan*. There are many things that can be done to you that will not break my oath to Legolas."

"Think that I care?" Aragorn challenged, bringing Boromir two steps nearer where he had been forced to kneel.

"Boromir! I ask this of you, please."

At Legolas' quiet plea, Boromir turned irresolutely from Aragorn. He searched the Elf's down-turned face and Pippin's anxious one. "Very well. Have a care, Legolas. These beasts cannot be trusted."

Aragorn snorted. Boromir tensed but did not stop, merely scooped up the leather waterskin and stalked toward the river, a warning glare that was lost upon both Ugluk and Aragorn.

"I need room to work." Legolas spoke stiffly.

Ugluk grinned, "melui edhel-neth, what will you give me for my favors?"

Angrily, Legolas replied, "I will make sure Lurtz knows who it was that caused the periannath's death."

"Why should Ugluk care?"

"Because Lurtz will tell Saruman it was you that killed the little one. What will Saruman do?" Legolas queried shortly, his voice vibrating with rage.

Scowling, Ugluk shouted at the orcs and they drew back, though they did not let the small group out of their sight.

Sighing, Legolas pushed a stray lock of hair from his face and tucked it carefully behind one ear. "Meriadoc," he spoke softly, "I do not know what game you and Pippin are playing, but it would be well for you not to draw attention to yourselves." Legolas continued to look over Merry's injuries while speaking, "I think Boromir is quite mad. Perhaps the ring has driven him beyond his endurance. The yrch do not listen to him. Why they have even allowed him with them and upon what sufferance, I am not sure. But I do not think it will last. You cannot trust in Boromir's protection."

"We're not stupid, Legolas. We *know* we can't trust Boromir, not any more. Pippin spoke bitterly.

Merry opened his eyes and watched Legolas intently. "I didn't know what else to do. We needed to talk with you, Legolas."

Keeping his head down as if intent upon his work, Legolas murmured, "What do you need, pen-neth? If it be within my power, I will give it you."

"We are worried, Legolas." Though Pippin touched Legolas but lightly upon his shoulder, still the Elf flinched as if from a blow. "Did... did Boromir hurt you very much?"

Merry gasped as Legolas' clenched his fingers inadvertently, his nails digging into the hobbits soft flesh. Immediately contrite, Legolas continued to look down at Merry's wounded shoulder, his hands stilling, he murmured softly, "I am sorry, Meriadoc."

"That's not an answer, Legolas." Merry grimaced as Legolas once again began exploring the multitude of bruises on his torso with gentle fingers.

Apparently entirely absorbed in what he was doing, Legolas spoke as if from a distance. "Do not worry for me, little ones."

Legolas flexed Merry's arm, watching the little hobbit's expression intently, Merry turned his hand and grasped Legolas' hand. Speaking earnestly, Merry pled, "We are your friends, Pip and I. Don't shut us out, Legolas. We are all we've got--you, Pip, Aragorn and me. If--if you cannot trust us, trust us to help, how will you survive? Without you, what will happen to us? We have to stick together."

Sitting back on his heels, Legolas looked between them bleakly. "You shame me, my friends. I have been selfish and wallow in self-pity while you are hurt and frightened. I regret that I have left you to shift for yourselves."

"That's *still* not an answer, Legolas." Pip whispered; large green eyes stared at Legolas with entreaty.

Moved, Legolas spoke slowly, though the tips of his ears burned brightly and warmth touched his cheeks. "I am unhurt save for in pride, Master Took."

"Pip." Pippin remonstrated, a smile breaking across his dirtied face.

"And Merry, Legolas. We are none of us strangers here."

The first genuine smile that they could remember seeing upon Legolas face for many days graced the fair features, though it did not last. Gravely Legolas nodded, "As you wish. But as my friends, I will ask you *not* to anger either Boromir or the yrch, unless you see a chance to break free." Looking first to one and then the other, Legolas implored, "And at the first opportunity, you must run fast and far. Do not stop. Do not look for me. I may not be able to take the same advantage."

Pippin began to shake his head rapidly, "No...no...no!"

Merry joined him in his denial, We cannot leave you or Aragorn behind to face these horrors alone!"

"Please. I do not think we all may escape at once, though if there is a chance, we shall all take it. But if only one or two may flee, then do so. These are the woods of my brethren, the Galadhrim, though long has it been since any of Greenwood have traveled here, still I do not think they would refuse you aid. And surely, they would send help, if you but ask it."

Merry and Pippin stared at the Elf dubiously. Pippin put their thoughts into words. "You would do the same? You're not just asking us to leave so that you can die, are you?"

At Legolas' negative shake of the head, Merry spoke up, staring straight into Legolas' hollow eyes. "Swear it to us, Legolas. Swear to us that you are not asking us to abandon you to death. If that is so, then we won't do it. We'd rather die a hundred times under whatever torture Saruman has planned for us than to leave one friend to die in our stead."

Legolas placed a hand upon each hobbit's shoulder, solemnly he said; "To find such friends in dark places is blessing indeed. I would not sully our time together nor our friendship with lies and half-truths." Dropping his eyes for a moment, Legolas continued, "I could not, even if that is my desire. I have given my pledge to Boromir. As long as Aragorn lives, I must fight to stay alive."

"That's only half an answer, Legolas." Merry smiled to take the sting out of his words. "Frodo used to tell me that Elves were the best at avoiding answers."

"I remember that!" Pip spoke eagerly, eyes lighting momentarily, "He said 'go not to the Elves for counsel for they will say both no and yes.'"[1]

"Ai. What shall I do with you two conspirators?" Smiling, Legolas took a deep, slow breath and then looked back between the two small friends, "I swear by Elbereth's light that I will not willingly go to my death. Will that satisfy you?"

Pippin beamed. And Merry nodded solemnly. "Thank you, my friend."

"Now you, too, must swear."

"I don't like it," Pippin started to protest but had the grace to flush at Legolas' stern look.

Merry broke in, "I promise, Legolas, I promise that we will go for help, if the chance comes our way. We both do. Don't we, Pip?"

Legolas touched Merry gratefully upon his shoulder. "And no more ploys, my young friends. I do not wish to see you become victim to Boromir's wrath."

"As long as you don't ignore us. You have to let us know you are well. You cannot try to handle this alone, Legolas. Can he, Merry?"

"No. He certainly must not. That's what friends are for."

Shaking his head ruefully, Legolas caught sight of Aragorn out of the corner of his eye. "Lie still until Boromir returns. It will do no harm to clean that wound, and may do much good." Standing slowly, Legolas approached Aragorn, drawn by the fresh blood that plastered the Dunédan's tunic to his skin.

Aragorn knelt not far from where the hobbits were. His hands were bound behind his head and fastened with a short cord to a collar made of rope that bit deep into his neck. His legs had been bound tightly and a cord fed from his wrists to his bound ankles kept him kneeling at an awkward angle. Even from where Legolas had sat talking with Merry and Pippin, it was evident that Aragorn's breathing was labored.

Even pale and smeared with soot and grime, dark hair falling in lank, dirty waves about the strong-jawed face, blue eyes dazed, Legolas still thought him beautiful. It seemed to him that Aragorn's dignity and nobility shown forth from within him with some inner light. Unaware of the tale his eyes told as his expression softened, Legolas walked toward Aragorn.

When Ugluk made as if to bar his way, Legolas spoke shortly, "He bleeds. His life is all that holds me here. Many will die by my hand before I let that happen." Tilting his head up to meet the flat yellow-orange glare, Legolas spoke coolly, menace and venom in his every word, "Will you be first?"

Ugluk blinked. Canting his head to the side as if trying to solve some great riddle, he suddenly gave a bark of laughter, "I like you, Elf. Very much. Take care of your pretty, pretty toy. We wouldn't want him to break. Maybe Ugluk will challenge Lurtz. You a fine prize."

Shaking himself from his daze, Aragorn snarled, "Touch him and I will gut you with a dirty knife. I will feed your bleeding entrails to the wargs."

Ignoring the Man, the creature lifted one of the long bedraggled braids and fingered the softness with squinted eyes. It pushed its face close to the Elf's, his fetid breath almost overwhelming Legolas. "You like Ugluk's attentions better. Ugluk know how to treat meat sweet."

"Leave him be!"

Furiously, Legolas shoved Ugluk backward, crouching, his hands balled into fists as he waited for Ugluk to attack. "You will not like *this* meat, feuyaer!" Legolas spat.

Ugluk picked himself up off the ground and laughed. "Your spirit is strong. It will be much fun to take you into my bed. Maybe Ugluk will keep you. Tend your little man, Elf. While you have a chance." Ugluk leered. "Do not loose the ropes. If you touch them, Ugluk" the creature pounded on his chest for emphasis, its mouth pulled into terrible smile, "*I* will pull you from him with much joy. He can bleed all the way to Barad-dûr for all Ugluk cares."

With a muttered imprecation, Legolas turned away from the retreating back of the Uruk-hai. Why the Uruk-hai had let him be, was of little consequence. He was only happy that it had. Falling to his knees in front of Aragorn, Legolas searched the mortal's shuttered face. Softly Legolas chided softly, "You are bleeding again. Do you not take care of my hard work? That is not like you, Estel."

Aragorn glanced away, his face burning at the gentle administration of Legolas' elegant hands. Images of the Elf in the throes of forced passion played through Aragorn's mind unbidden and he wondered guiltily what it would be like to hold the Elf and to love him as he was meant to be. Confusion tore at the Dunédan and he reproached himself viciously for his shameful thoughts. Betrothed of Arwen Undómiel, friend to the Prince of Mirkwood, looking upon his fried with thoughts as lust-filled as those of the traitor from Gondor.

Legolas, misunderstanding Aragorn's turning from him, dropped his hands to his lap. "Blood loss will weaken you, Estel. I should not have to tell you this. Does my touch so offend you that you would rather sicken than have me tend you?" Though he spoke calmly enough, the Elf was unable to keep the pain from his voice.

"No! Legolas, I--"

Stalking over to the two, Boromir gave an angry roar. "Get away from him!" Furiously, Boromir toseed the waterskin at the two hobbits who clambered to their feet, their eyes huge.

Legolas turned, his hand raised as if to ward off a blow. "He bleeds--"

Boromir grasped the slight Elf by his wrist and flung Legolas away from Aragorn. Legolas tumbled backward, landing hard. "Whore!" Three quick steps brought Boromir to tower over the Elf's prone figure.

Laying sprawled in the dirt, Legolas pushed himself up on his elbows, watching Boromir through narrowed eyes. "I am only that which you have made of me. I did not choose this path willingly."

With a backhand that sent Legolas' head snapping backward, Boromir shouted, "I held no sword to your neck! You had but to say 'no'."

"Did you not? How then could I have said no? Would you not have killed Aragorn right then, before my very eyes? Perchance the result would have been the same, yet death would have given me quick release, as well." Legolas stared at Boromir coldly. "Yet you knew I could not make this choice, did you not? You knew it would be easier for me to carve my own beating heart from my chest than to give Estel over to torment and death."

Infuriated by the Elf's reply, Boromir spun about, facing Aragorn. Legolas should want him, need *him*. He was a powerful Man and would rule one of the most powerful Kingdoms of Middle-earth. Only Sauron himself would be above him! What did that fool of a Ranger have that he did not?

Aragorn's gazed back impassively, his face set in the likeness of the Argonath. The same hands that had hewn the statues of the Ancient Kings could have carved the Ranger. Perhaps even made him from the same stone. Only his eyes were alive, watching, ever watching as if by will alone he could force some error upon them and thus be free to loose his wrath. How he hated the Ranger. Without even trying, Aragorn had been given everything that he, Boromir desired--a kingship, trust, respect-- and the Elf's love.

Even at the death of the old wizard, the leadership had fallen to Aragorn, everyone trusting the Dunédan almost implicitly. Boromir had been ignored at every turn. He had told them to go to use the Gap of Rohan. He had told them that Minas Tirith should be their first destination. He had begged them to use the ring in defense of Gondor. Now, there was nothing left. Nothing. Eyeing Aragorn malevolently, ire making his voice tremble as Boromir spoke calmly, as if to speak above the coldly clipped words would shatter what little was left of him, "Why do you not love me, Legolas? Why can you not?"

"It is not the night the Elves love so much as the stars that it holds. I see no light within you, Boromir. I do not love the darkness." Legolas' voice sounded empty, hollow, lost. "Where is the Son of Gondor? Where is the hero of his people? Is this who you are Boromir? Is this what you want? Look at what you have become." Legolas wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. "Look deep within your heart. Does only darkness dwell there now?"

"You will never have his love, Boromir. You are tainted. You try to soil that which you cannot be and you fail." Boromir turned, staring at the Ranger as if he was orc spoor scraped from the bottom of his boot.

"Estel! Saes--!" Legolas spoke alarmed.

"This is as much your fault as his! If you were not, there would be no reason for him to deny me!" With carefully precise steps, Boromir walked to Aragorn, his eyes never leaving the Dunédan's hated face.

"Boromir! Stop this!" Merry escaped the orc guarding him and blocked Boromir's way.

Glowering at the little hobbit, Boromir's voice spoke in a soft, dangerous voice, "Get out of my way, Merry." When the hobbit refused to comply, Boromir simply lifted him out of his way, putting the halfling back down with carefully restrained violence. "I will deal with the treachery of you and Pippin later. I would look to your cousin's safety now. And worry less about Aragorn."

Pippin shrank from the glare directed his way. He was almost glad of the orc who held tight the rope leashing his bound hands.

"Does it please you to bully someone half your size, Boromir? Is this how you protect the halflings? Your honor grows thin."

Deadly rage lit Boromir's face and he stalked over to the Ranger. Emptiness threatened to eat out Boromir's heart. Anger and guilt fed upon him. The Dunédan deserved his hatred only by an accident of birth. "You should die. All of this will be easier, if you are dead."

Aragorn inclined his head in silent challenge and acceptance of Boromir's threat. Boromir grabbed a handful of the Ranger's greasy hair, pulling Aragorn's head back so far that blood welled from the rope about his neck. With a soft snick that could clearly be heard throughout the encampment, over orc-ish shouts and jeers, Boromir pulled his dagger free of its sheath.

Legolas scrambled to his feet. Lurtz entered the camp silently, his evil gaze quickly taking in the scene. With deadly silent tread, the Uruk-hai Captain prowled behind Legolas and grasped the Prince by his upper arms, yanking the struggling Elf back against his unyielding body.

"Boromir! NO! You have sworn to me!"

Shooting Legolas an anguished look over his shoulder, his fingers tangled in the Dunédan's hair, Boromir's words were dragged from him painfully. "Then let me be foresworn. What is once more?"

"If you do this thing, I will die. Is that not what you feared?"

Boromir growled low in his throat, his words bitten off in his frustration and confusion. "You can no longer be taken unwilling, my sweet prince. You have already given yourself. Unlike me, a mere mortal, you cannot change what you are. Your words bind you to be as assuredly as any ceremony among men."

His pride trampled by his fear, Legolas ceased his useless struggle against Lurtz' hold. When he spoke, it sounded as if his voice had been broken, so deep was the sorrow that filled his words, "I will die of grief."

Quietly, his own pain and grief no less than Legolas', Boromir spoke barely above a whisper. "You may, anyway. I fear I see you fade more each day. The more I seek to hold you close, the more you slip away. And though, by your honor, you may will it not be so, I fear I have broken your heart with my touch." Boromir's eyes filled with tears; "You die a little more each day from my touch. One cannot hold the wind, nor tame the stars. I should never have taken you. But I cannot let you go. I will not!"

Hoarsely, Legolas demanded in a torn voice, "What would you have of me, Boromir?"

"I would have your love. Can you give that to me, Legolas?"

Blood drained quickly from Legolas' face leaving him white and shaken. "Alas, I cannot. Do not ask me something you will know to be a lie."

"I want you to hurt, Legolas. I want you to feel the burn of my shame. I want you to be consumed by my pain. I want you *both* to hurt." Boromir spoke viciously; he pricked Aragorn's throat with the tip of his blade. "Will you do *that* for me, Legolas?"

"I hurt already, Boromir. Take from me what you will, but do not take your promise."

Some imp of perversity swept through Boromir, then and he demanded, "Touch me, Legolas."

Lurtz pushed Legolas towards Boromir. The orcs slinking like shadows through the night to circle round the startling tableau. Confused, Legolas walked shakily over to Boromir, a wary eye on the knife at Aragorn's throat. Sensing that Boromir wants more than a mere warrior's clasp. Lifting a shaking hand, Legolas lightly brushed his fingers against Boromir's cheek. "I do not understand what you want, Boromir."

"I want you to touch me, Legolas. You never touch me. You do nothing that you are not commanded." Boromir released his hold upon Aragorn, pushing the Dunédan backward. Aragorn wheezed for breath, black dots dancing in and out of his vision as he tried to pull air into his starving lungs. Boromir ignored the Ranger, placing his hand over Legolas' hand. Lifting Legolas' hand, Boromir kissed the fingertips one by one. "Kneel before me as your King, Legolas. Worship upon the altar of my manhood. Grace me with your lips and hands, tongue and mouth."

"I--I do not know if I can."

"Is an Elf's bond worth no more than the words of an orc?" Legolas flushed, his eyes sliding sideward to the dismayed hobbits as they raised their voices in loud protest. Harshly, Boromir rebuked him, "Do not ask for any leniency on their behalf. If not for their duplicity, you would not have had the chance to sneak behind my back to your beloved Ranger. This is as much their punishment as yours. Let them see what it is to defy me." Casting a fiery look at the cowering hobbits, Boromir warned, "One word. One word and I will make sure he will never forget today."

Sinking to his knees, Legolas reached out hesitantly and placed his hand over Boromir's cloth-covered genitals. Boromir hissed between his teeth, even the lightest touch from Legolas sending sharp pulses of pleasure through him.

"You will need to do more than that to keep your Estel alive."

Fighting with himself, his inner struggle clearly visible upon his mobile features, Legolas closed his eyes, leaning forward to nuzzle against the man's groin. Though Boromir's smell was not unpleasant, Legolas had to fight the impulse to disgorge the contents of his stomach. Licking his lips, the Elf mouthed the hidden arousal through the cloth.

Boromir's legs trembled. A low sound of pleasure escaped his throat. Petting Legolas' hair, he encouraged the Elf to continue. Uncertainly, Legolas undid Boromir's breeches and was greeted by his burgeoning arousal. Legolas stared at the pulsing flesh for a moment before hesitantly pulling it completely from the confines of the Man's clothing.

A wave of heat flowed through Boromir; his voice was dark with lust and power. "Do it, little Elf. Take me into that beautiful pouting mouth. I want to feel your tongue and lips."

Hefting the weight of Boromir's sex in the palm of his hand, Legolas stared upward with unseeing eyes, before looking again at what he held. The flesh was smooth and soft to the touch, yet unyielding, much like the Man above him. Legolas snaked his tongue out, licking delicately at the barely exposed crown. Shame flickered through him, but he put it from him with force, his thoughts focussing solely on this one task.

He could do this. It was not great thing to do in exchange for one life. Though that life had been promised him once, already.

"Do not make me wait, Legolas. Time for loveplay has long since gone. Open that lovely, lovely mouth for me, my pretty little whore."

Swallowing, Legolas parted his lips and helped guide the throbbing flesh between his lips. Boromir gave a pleased cry, his fingers tightening automatically in Legolas' hair. He shoved his knife back into its scabbard, tangling his other hand in the tangled locks, his hips giving a reflexive thrust.

Legolas gulped and gagged as the Man pushed himself down his throat. His stomach heaved and he choked upon bile and swallowed convulsively. Boromir groaned and began to thrust in earnest, shoving his cock deep into Legolas' hapless mouth.

He could not breathe. Legolas felt an impending wave of panic as he gripped tight to Boromir's strong thighs. He choked and choked again, a fit of gagging taking him and he grazed Boromir with his teeth.

With a bitten off exclamation, Boromir yanked Legolas' head roughly from his arousal. The Elf's eyes were tearing and he drew in deep ragged breaths. Boromir's erection danced wetly against his cheek. Humiliation burned deeply upon the upturned face. "A whore should know the ways to please. You act as if you have never been with another, much less pleasured a man."

"He may not have."

Sometime while Boromir had only eyes for the Elf, Aragorn had struggled back to his knees. That the man was breathing at all could only be laid at the door of one of the orcs. Boromir was unsure if he should thank the creature or gut it.

"What are you saying?"

"Elves do not indulge in casual affairs as do men. They use their energies for other pursuits. And when their love is given, it is not given lightly. Ever." Aragorn spoke calmly clearly, his gaze even and unbending.

Boromir felt shamed by the weight of that gaze.

"Saes--Estel," Legolas face was burning, he felt as though he were a beacon for shame and humiliation. He stared imploringly past Boromir seeking the Dunédan's eyes, "Do not speak of this."

"He should know, Legolas. He should know what it is he has done."

Fisting his hand in Legolas' hair, Boromir dragged the Elf's face upward so that he could watch the quickly flitting expressions across the fair face. Legolas' eyes fluttered closed as if he could shut out what was happening. Harshly, Boromir shook Legolas by his hair, his eyes riveted to the unhappy Elf. "Are you saying--?"

"The Elves are immortal Boromir," Aragorn reproached the Son of Gondor coldly. "Their desires are not the same as those of Men. They are not Men. It is well past believability that you are his first."

Boromir breathed out softly, shock apparent upon his face, "By all that is good. Legolas, is this true?" Legolas remained quiet, though the truth of what Aragorn had said lay clear in the bleak blue gaze. Tears filled Boromir's eyes and regret hammered deep in his heart, "I treated you as a whore. Why did you not say?"

"Boromir..."

Very quietly Legolas cut across whatever Aragorn had been about to say, "It is a private thing among the Quendi. It is not shared with the Atani."

"There is nothing private between us, little Elf." Boromir remonstrated gently.

"Free him of his promise to you, Boromir. He has given more than any should have to upon the altar of your lust."

Giving Aragorn a cold look, Boromir answered sharply, "No. Why should I give up such a treasure? He is mine. He gave himself to me by word and deed. Why do you work so hard to gainsay me, Dunédan?" Smiling slyly, Boromir queried, "Is it that you want him for yourself? Do you regret too quick the decision you made in Rivendell?" Looking down at Legolas, Boromir's expression softened. Running his fingers down the side of the Elf's face, Boromir spoke to Legolas tenderly, "But I will honor the gift I was given."

Merry's voice cut clearly across the small open space, "It was not given. It was taken by threat and force."

"This does not concern you, Merry. Do not make me warn you again."

Merry shuddered but stared back at Boromir mutinously. Pippin jutted his jaw out, looking fierce as any Took or Brandybuck had ever seemed, "You made it our concern. You betrayed us. All of us. And not just us, but every single one in Middle-earth! You give us over to our enemies. You'll set the dark power free. And for what? You--you abuse our friend and shame him and make him do things to you that only lovers do."

Anger and hurt lanced Boromir. Pippin scorned him. Bluntly Boromir replied, his eyes flat and hard, "I do what I must."

Merry spoke up his fury whipping his words; "To get what you want! That's just selfish!"

"Legolas deserves better." Aragorn said, his disgust ringing through the clearing.

"It is Legolas' choice, Aragorn. Let us hear what Legolas has to say." Boromir touched his finger to the pointed chin, raising Legolas' face once again, tenderly Boromir touched the swollen lips that had been wrapped about his manhood just moments before. "What say you Legolas? Do you want to be free?"

Sensing the trap behind Boromir's words, Legolas shook his head numbly. "No, Boromir. I have given you my word."

With a smile of triumph, Boromir flashed a smug look at Aragorn before waving for the orcs to see to the hobbits and Ranger. Carding his fingers through the matted hair, Boromir gave Legolas a nod of approval. "Very good, little Elf. Let us hope that Merry and Pippin learn as quickly."

Boromir lifted the blushing Elf to his feet and led him over to their bedrolls. Scooping up their bedrolls, Boromir pulled the unresisting Prince behind him as he headed outside the small camp. Lurtz stood in his way. "Where do you go, adan-neth? These woods are not safe."

"I will worry about that. You have other concerns, do you not?"

Lurtz bared his teeth and inclined his head. "Be careful that you do not get eaten by monsters. Who will protect your pretty little prize then?" His laughter rang after Boromir like broken bits of steel.

When Boromir judged they were far enough from the camp, he spread out the bedrolls while Legolas stood listlessly, the Elf's gaze searching the trees.

Lying down, Boromir stretched his hand up to the Elf, smiling softly. How much of the Elf's reticence had been due to inexperience? Boromir hoped to remedy that. He hoped to show Legolas that there could be tenderness between them. "Lie with me, Legolas."

Legolas could not help but wonder what fates he had angered as he accepted Boromir's hand and allowed himself to be pulled into the Man's arms. He turned upon his back, his head resting upon Boromir's arm, high above them he could see the bright pinpricks of light that Elbereth had scattered through the night, so that the Elves would not wake only to darkness.

"No, little Elf, we are not here to sleep. Much as you may wish it." Boromir chided gently. With a light touch, he turned the Elf into his arms and Legolas went without struggle. Pulling Legolas closer still, Boromir nuzzled against the delicate upswept ear, nibbling at the sensitive tip of the Elf's ear.

Legolas gave a small gasp and squirmed in Boromir's arms. "I would rather sleep."

Boromir laughed taking no offence, rather believing it was a show of timidity on Legolas' part. "Not yet. I will show to you how to please a man, my young love." Boromir swept one hand up beneath Legolas' tunic. With an encouraging pat upon Legolas' left flank, he lifted Legolas leg, placing it upon his hip and holding it there.

Sliding his other hand between them, Boromir murmured softly into the upturned ear while with gentle touches and deft fingers he began to learn those things which made Legolas tremble in his arms. Small gasps and whimpers were coming from the Elf as Boromir took his time bringing Legolas erect.

A quiet sob escaping him, Legolas buried his face against Boromir. With quick, clever expertise, Boromir tugged at Legolas' sex, coaxing the purpling head from its soft sheath of flesh, until it was weeping its delight. Gently Boromir fondled the soft sacs between Legolas' legs.

"Shhh, sweet prince. It is alright." Boromir soothed as he sought the entrance to the Elf's body. He could feel Legolas' breath quicken; short sharp pants shook the body burrowing against him. Pressing his finger against the muscle, Boromir slowly inserted his finger with gentle insistence. Kissing the ear-tip, Boromir began a long, slow slide. Inserting a second finger, Boromir began to work his fingers in and out. Wrapping his fingers around Legolas' straining erection, Boromir fisted it in time with the fingers thrusting inside the Elf.

Juttering breaths were shaking the Elf's body now, and the slender hips were thrusting helplessly. Boromir nosed through the tangled hair to the soft skin of Legolas throat, kissing and nipping as he brought Legolas to aching hardness. Time after time Boromir brought the Elf to the cusp of his release, only to cease his stroking just as the organ began to swell with its seed.

How long before he had Legolas writhing between his hand and fingers, Boromir did not know, but the triumph of that moment burned bright in his heart. He whispered coaxingly in the Elf's ear, "Spill your seed for me, Legolas."

At his quiet command, Legolas cried out his denial, shaking his head over and over.

Boromir plunged his fingers deep into the Elf, relentlessly stroking the pleasure spot over and over. Pulling on Legolas' arousal one final time, he felt the rigid shaft swell in his hand, felt Legolas arch helplessly against him, his body shaken by tremors, the warmth of the Elf's seed spilled in hot pulses across his fingers.

Boromir brought his hand to his mouth, licking Legolas' release from his fingers. Firmly, not allowing for refusal, Boromir pulled Legolas into a kiss.

The Elf startled at the taste of his seed upon Boromir's tongue and closed his mouth refusing entrance. Boromir pinched Legolas' buttock warningly and Legolas reluctantly opened his mouth. Boromir leisurely explored Legolas' mouth, licking at teeth and gum, teasing the Elf's shy tongue. Cuddling Legolas to him, Boromir spoke in hushed tones, "Squeeze your legs together for me, pretty one. I would not find my pleasure in your body so quickly. You are yet new to this." Pulling his hardness from his breeches he coated it with what little remained of Legolas' release.

Squeezing his legs together, Legolas complied with Boromir's request, though he kept his eyes closed tightly. He could not bear to see the stars. The dark somehow seemed soothing, safer, less accusatory. Boromir slid his erection between Legolas' thighs.

Legolas thought he would be ill. It did not matter that Elves did not sicken in the manner of men. He held onto Boromir's shoulders tightly, his nails digging into the suede and cloth of Boromir's clothing. Boromir's breath was harsh in his ear, the man's arms cloying. The Elf did not think he could breathe and when Boromir froze against him, shouting out his name, Legolas shuddered again, burying his face against Boromir's throat.

Bile burned the Elf's throat and tears stung his eyes as Boromir gently settled Legolas closer in his arms. As if afraid Legolas will break free, Boromir twined his legs with the Elf's, patting him soothingly and rubbing his back and the curve of his buttocks. Long after the Man fell asleep, his breathing deep and even, Legolas lay rigid in his arms staring up at the bright specks dusted like jewels in Elbereth's necklace through the lacy curtain of the trees.

Pain threatened to swell in his chest and choke him. Exhaustion seeped into his very pores. Memory replayed over and over the betrayal of his body, yet again, and Legolas could have wept his grief. Only sleep promised a short reprieve of the nightmare he was living.

Boromir shifted in his sleep, pulling Legolas close. Legolas thought upon the fellowship. Of the Council of Elrond and the Ring. He wondered where Frodo was now. He hoped that the Valar would see the hobbits home safe. Merry and Pippin should never have come upon this quest. He thought long upon the look of anguish in Aragorn's eye. And he wondered longingly how his Father was doing. He wished he could have told Thranduil goodbye. Eventually his thoughts turned to Gimli, and Legolas hoped the dwarf was faring better than they were.

Finally, willfully, Legolas closed his eyes as he sought the solitude of rest. He cannot stand the pain of having the stars of Varda look kindly down upon him in his shame.

 

TBC in Part 8

Go back to Part1

 

Glossary:

Yes, I know orcs do not speak Sindarin. But I figured they've probably picked up a smattering of various tongues in their many fights. Besides which, there are not that many words of the 'black tongue of Mordor' translated.

Adan-neth - little man
Aes - meat
Anor - The Sun
Arda - The World
Atani - The Followers, Men
Edhel - Elf
Elbereth - the Sindarin name for Varda, one of the Valar beloved of the Elves for her gift of starlight among others, wife of Manwë
Estel - The name given Aragorn by the Elves, means hope
Feuyaer - disgusting one, filth
Gwaedhofeämin - literally bond of spirit mine, here used to mean soulmate or spirit-mate. (need to work on this one, suggestions??? What about gwaedhfeä?)
Hollin - the empty lands, long since deserted by the Elves, between Imladris (Rivendell) and Caradhras, of it Legolas said in FoTR: "But the Elves of this land were of a race strange to us... and the trees and grass do not now remember them." -- FoTR, JRR Tolkien
Melui-neth aes - pretty meat, sweet meat
Pen-neth - little one
Quendi - the Firstborn, the name originally held by all the Elves, before the first call to return to Valinor
Saes - please
Uruk-hai - great orc, movie version: the Uruk-hai was a hybrid created by the wizard, Saruman, from Orcs and Goblins.
Yrch - orc, according to Tolkien, the orcs word for themselves in the black tongue was uruk. Yrch was the closest the elvish tongue could come to the sound of that word.
[1] The line Pippin speaks to Legolas is actually a line spoken by Frodo to Gildor Inglorien, one of the wandering Elves the hobbits run across on their frantic flight from Bag End to Bree. The actual line reads thusly:

"For it is said, go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes." Frodo to Gildor Inglorien in the chapter "Three is Company" from the book "The Fellowship of the Ring"