6. Chapter Six
Before now Legolas wouldn’t have believed it was possible to be with Maglor like this. Sauron had left them alone with a promise to return later. They looked at each other, and there were no words. This time Maglor didn’t smile, and the darkness remained. It was an awkward silence; everything between them was spoiled and broken, and no apology could mend it. Love, if it had ever been there, couldn’t save them, or make any of this right. Maglor turned away and that was when Legolas spoke.
“You pretended,” he said, in a lost tone of voice. He was confused – what they shared seemed so real, so natural – he couldn’t believe it was a lie. He felt numb and betrayed, and more than anything he wanted to be back in his old room. He wanted to be alone in this place, and recognising that desire hurt more than anything the other elf had done. Maglor was walking away from him, but at Legolas’ words he stopped and flinched as if he had been hit. He didn’t turn to face Legolas, but his head fell down and he seemed to slump.
Maglor sighed as if he wanted to say a thousand words in reply, but all he said was; “No, pen neth, I didn’t.”
Suddenly Legolas was furious with the older elf. He had seen the passion in his eyes when he was with Sauron, enjoying whatever it was the dark lord did for him. His sigh and his words stoked the fire in Legolas – it all seemed so overdone and dramatic – and so much like pretence.
“When did he come to you? While I was asleep?” Legolas demanded, wishing he knew of a way to hurt the other elf with his words as Sauron had.
Maglor turned to face him then, and for a moment Legolas caught a flash of the same fire that was there when Sauron had taken him. “He didn’t!” Maglor said forcefully. “It was obvious when he left you with me what he expected, and I was happy to do it.” His words were bitter and resentful, and they struck at Legolas’ heart like arrows.
“But why?” he whispered, unable to hide the pain that gripped his soul.
The coldness left Maglor’s eyes at the sight of him, and for a moment Legolas was sure that he was going to walk over and somehow make everything all right. But he didn’t move.
“For too many reasons, but I didn’t pretend, pen neth, never think that.” Maglor was asking for something, and as he turned away Legolas got up from his place on the bed and approached him. He wanted something too, but he didn’t know what. All he knew was that the anger was still there, eating away at him. He put a hand on Maglor’s shoulder to force him to turn around again.
Maglor resisted him, and his next words almost turned Legolas to stone, so cold and angry they were. “Leave me alone.”
How dare he desire to be alone here? Legolas thought disjointedly. Acting and sounding as if he, Legolas, was the one who had done something wrong. Anger turned to hate, and adrenaline began to race through his veins when Maglor refused to face him.
“No!” he replied with all the intensity he could muster. And then Maglor did face him. For a moment Legolas glared at the other elf, so lost in his own feelings, that he didn’t notice his look mirrored on Maglor’s face.
They were only a few steps away from the bed, and suddenly Legolas found himself being pushed back. The violence was so unexpected that he could do nothing as Maglor pushed him against the bed and then bodily threw him on it. Before he could rise the other elf was on top of him, knocking the breath out of his lungs and holding him down by imprisoning his wrists.
“Don’t you see?” Maglor almost seemed to hiss, as Legolas finally began to struggle, looking down at him with such loathing that Legolas closed his eyes and turned his face away. “I haven’t changed… in all this time.” Then his voice became lower, and Legolas began to realise that Maglor’s anger was not directed at him – but at himself.
“I may have lost my place, but I haven’t lost my name, or myself… and you…” Maglor’s grip on his wrists tightened and Legolas opened his eyes then. Maglor looked him up and down, deliberately, returning to his face with the same powerful resentment in his eyes. But then something seemed to change. He stared at Legolas as if it were the first time he had seen him and tears filled his eyes again.
Maglor released Legolas and turned away from him, lying down on the bed. Legolas reached out to touch Maglor but his hand halted in mid-air when the other elf spoke.
“You know I’m going to do it, don’t you?” For a moment Legolas didn’t catch Maglor’s meaning. “Whatever he asks of me,” he clarified, and Legolas felt cold all over. This is what it was really all about; all of Legolas’ anger was concerned with the betrayal. How could Maglor have agreed to it, without a single word of protest? Legolas had never felt so helpless, and he simply could not put himself in Maglor’s place. He would have resisted, even if it were pointless. He took a while to respond, his words sounding stunned and lifeless, even to him.
Legolas sat up and stared into space. Everything was wrong here, nothing was exactly what it seemed, and he found himself with two enemies instead of one. Maglor was talking to him, clutching at his arms, brushing fingers against his face, and for a moment Legolas came back to hear what he had to say.
“I am sorry.” It was pathetic. Legolas wanted to laugh, but he didn’t have it in him, instead he shrugged, and turned away. Like the wood, what had at first seemed a respite in the bleakness of his surroundings was turning out to be far worse. His mind alighted on different thoughts like a butterfly, unable to settle anywhere, but then he thought of Sauron. He thought of the fire that the dark lord’s touch awoke in him, and at last there was something he could think about, something real, something that didn’t ache, that wasn’t completely hollow.
Arms held him, hands stroked his hair gently, and Legolas closed his eyes. He said nothing, and didn’t protest when Maglor’s touches became insistent. He simply lie back and allowed it, while his mind tried to make him believe that the hair that brushed against him was black, that the hands caressing him were capable of cruelty. When Maglor penetrated him once more and rocked within him, taking whatever comfort his body could provide, Legolas wasn’t even aware of calling out Sauron’s name, or the brief flash of pity on Maglor’s face. All he knew was that it stopped, and then he knew nothing.
Maglor once more watched over Legolas’ sleep. He looked away, and then began to speak quietly as if Legolas could hear him.
“I know where you go to, pen neth, but it won’t last. Nothing does. Resistance, submission, acceptance, and even madness; all these are short-lived in the context of eternity, and all fade in the face of his constancy. When you realise he won’t let you go, your mind clings to the one certainty, as though it were comfort. There is a moment when you realise that the best and the worst thing he could do would be to leave you to yourself, and then his tortures are at last bearable. One day you will run just to be reassured that he will find you. One day he will hurt you and you will want to say thank you.”
Legolas mumbled something in his sleep, and Maglor looked down. He had been lost in his own thoughts again, and again it made no difference. He knew this was the unnatural sleep of escape, and he couldn’t deny Legolas that. He looked lost and hurt for a moment or two, and then continued talking.
“I didn’t pretend, pen neth. How can you think so? But you do not realise yet what he requires of you.” Maglor shook his head. “I thought this was my punishment,” he mused, “but it seems that is not so. What can someone so young have done to deserve this? Your coming here means so many things, Legolas, Prince of Greenwood. It brings the torture of hope, the possibility of companionship, and the surety of jealousy and competition. I know he will not hesitate to take advantage of all of these. But still, I am glad you are here. Sleep. When you awake I will be waiting for you. You will not be alone. That much at least I can promise you, I hope.”
Reaching out a hand, Maglor let his fingers move lightly over Legolas’ belly. “It should have been me. Why wasn’t it?” He smiled bitterly; already aware of the slightest note of envy mixed in with the relief. But he had no answer for himself, and so he settled back, losing himself in the same thoughts that had occupied him for millennia, waiting for Legolas to wake up, or Sauron to return, whichever came first.
Awakening to almost the very same sensations he had fallen asleep to was strange. He could almost forget he’d been asleep. He had been pulled from his place on the bed, and strong arms held him close. Warmth and darkness, drowning…
“Sauron,” he murmured, as he had when the darkness took him earlier. This time he was right. Full consciousness returned slowly, like the tide to the shore. The dark lord did nothing to shock him into wakefulness. His touch was gentle and indescribably sweet. Hands moved soothingly over his back and came to rest on his buttocks. Trapped between the body heat and the hands, Legolas moaned longingly, pressing himself against the dark lord like a favoured pet as awareness returned to his eyes.
From that first moment Sauron captured his gaze. They looked into each other’s eyes and then Legolas was confused. Hadn’t he been with Maglor? Maglor. Suddenly the rest of his memories clicked into place, and he realised that Sauron had returned to carry out his promise of punishment. And that meant…
He held on to Sauron as if his life depended on it. His put his arms around Sauron’s neck and buried his face in the dark lord’s hair. He would do anything for this not to be real. A part of him knew full well that he was in the hands of the enemy, and that he would be better off with Maglor. But a larger part of him still clung to the idea of Maglor’s betrayal. “Please,” he moaned in supplication, partly for release, and partly to be freed from whatever Sauron had planned for Maglor to do.
When Sauron spoke his voice was deep and silky, like velvet covered steel.
“Legolas, listen to me.” Legolas did listen, and he was unable to ignore Sauron’s amused sarcasm. “I want to save you from him, but I cannot. I am so very sorry, pen neth. I wish it were different, but I’m powerless to stop this.” Sauron paused there for a moment, before adding more loudly; “Isn’t that right, Maglor?” As he spoke he turned Legolas around in his arms so that he stood with his back to Sauron, and faced Maglor. He almost flinched when Legolas turned his gaze upon him, and Sauron finished speaking. But then he looked at Legolas meaningfully when he answered.
“Yes, Hîr nín.” And if Legolas had not been aware of it before, then he knew now that Sauron was cruelly saying all the things to him that Maglor could not say. For a second he felt such tremendous pity for Maglor it was difficult to breathe.
“Then smile, for today I give you a gift!” Sauron challenged. He pulled Legolas’ arms behind his back, and then Legolas felt the dark lord tying his hands together with thin leather twine. He didn’t even register the meaning of Sauron’s statement. He leaned back against the dark lord and closed his eyes. He wanted to be outraged, but he couldn’t deny the excitement that Sauron’s actions awoke in him. It was a physical manifestation of his helplessness, and he felt sudden shame when he realised that he wanted it. He wanted to be helpless, for him. He couldn’t even contain a moan when he felt Sauron pull roughly at the bonds to tighten them.
“So hesitant. Anyone would think you had forgotten what presents were.”
The words brought Legolas back to where he was, and he opened his eyes.
“Presents?” Maglor asked, looking sharply at Sauron.
“Of course,” Sauron continued smoothly. “Don’t tell me that after all these centuries, Maglor, you don’t dream of having someone else at your command, and at your mercy.” Maglor’s eyes burned with sudden desire as he turned his gaze back to the Prince, and Legolas stared at him in shock. “Yes, I thought so.” Sauron leaned in to speak into Legolas’ ear. “Imagine it. Wouldn’t you like to hear him scream? To see his tender flesh marked by your hands? To have him beg when he no longer knows what he’s begging for…”
While Sauron spoke his hands touched Legolas’ lips, moved over his collarbone, and brushed lightly against the sides of his waist. Finally, he lightly stroked Legolas’ member, the fingers of Sauron’s hand teased him, not quite tight enough, and Legolas couldn’t help giving in to a needy sigh.
In disbelief, Legolas watched as Maglor’s desire darkened to lust. Although Sauron’s words were disturbing, they had sounded almost seductive. But now he began to feel real fear when Maglor reached out to him. He struggled in his bonds and shrank back against the dark lord as Maglor rested his hands on Legolas’ shoulders.
“No! Please,” he whimpered. “Don’t!” There were so many things he wanted to say; don’t listen to him, don’t do this, don’t hurt me. But Maglor seemed not to hear. He looked into Legolas’ eyes without really seeing him.
“Forgive me.” And the words sounded like a knell in Legolas’ mind. He began to tremble when he realised that Sauron was going to have exactly what he wanted. Had there ever really been any question?
“Maglor,” And all the fear he felt was in the sound of his voice. He felt he might be pleading for his young life, and it showed. Maglor put one of his hands over Legolas’ mouth and he felt his heart miss a beat.
“Shh…” Maglor warned him, and it seemed such a final gesture to Legolas’ mind, that he couldn’t help crying a little. His tears spilled over Maglor’s fingers as Sauron pushed him into Maglor’s embrace, and then walked around them both to speak into Maglor’s ear.
“His blood will be as sweet as his tears, don’t you think? And then, of course, he will be so desperate to please you.”
Legolas continued to stare at Maglor, searching for any sign of compassion. But at Sauron’s words Maglor’s eyes half-closed, and he whispered something Legolas couldn’t quite catch.
“But I see I don’t really need to remind you of that,” Sauron said, bestowing a chilling smile on Legolas. “Come. Bring him.”
Maglor removed his hand from Legolas’ mouth and for a moment they looked at each other. “Don’t do this,” Legolas begged immediately. Maglor’s eyes hardened.
“You have to be quiet,” he said in a strange voice that wasn’t quite his own, and pushed Legolas to walk in front of him.
For a few steps, Legolas allowed Maglor to push him forward in stunned silence, but then he saw the reality of the situation he was in and began to struggle.
They turned into a narrow corridor and Legolas cried out, pushing himself back against Maglor, but the other elf seemed immovable. It was almost impossible to fight with his hands tied behind his back, but Legolas never stopped trying to get free. His panicked screams sounded loud in the confines of the corridor, but still they moved forward. It was hopeless.
In a last, desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable, Legolas let himself go limp and heavy in Maglor’s grip, letting his body slide to the floor. He gasped when Maglor grasped hold of his arms and pulled them up behind his back. It was painful, and he had no choice but to stand again. Too soon they reached a door in the corridor, which Sauron unlocked and walked through in front of them.
Legolas didn’t think it was possible to struggle any more than he had been doing, but when he saw the familiar room with the harp, he found a new strength. He pushed himself back against Maglor so suddenly that the other elf moved a little, and Legolas turned, ready to run from the door to that room. But Maglor’s moment of weakness was over and he simply took hold of Legolas’ shoulders to push him backwards.
“No! Please!” Legolas begged and shouted. “Not there! I won’t!” He tried everything he could. He stamped on Maglor’s feet, bit viciously at the hands that held him, and threw himself against Maglor again and again to get him to move out of the way. Nothing worked, however, and finally Legolas spat straight into the other elf’s face. Maglor responded by shoving him backwards roughly, so that Legolas lost his balance and found himself sprawled on the floor.
He scrambled across the room away from both of his captors, and stood once more, trying desperately to free his hands from Sauron’s bonds.
They both advanced on him slowly, until he was backing into a corner of the room. The only sounds in the chamber were his own piteous sobs of helplessness and terror. Legolas looked wildly at both of them, from one to the other, looking for a protector. There was none.
Feverish with panic, and looking for a way out, Legolas’ mind registered the fact that Sauron had stopped moving towards him, and as if commanded Legolas’ turned to him and away from Maglor. He almost threw himself at Sauron’s feet, and at his mercy, trembling and incoherent.
“Shh…” Sauron hushed him. And when a hand lifted his chin, Legolas looked up. Feeling the dark lord’s gaze on him calmed Legolas’ mind immediately like a drug, and he rose gracefully to his feet in silence. There was no mercy in his dark eyes, and yet there was no hint of cruelty either. When Sauron’s hand moved to stroke his cheek, Legolas automatically turned his face into the touch and kissed Sauron’s hand.
Next, he was pulled into a tight embrace as Sauron’s arms closed around him. Legolas sighed and let his head fall back. His lips parted a little, just a short space away from his, and Sauron smiled. He almost cried out when he felt Sauron releasing his wrists from the cruel bonds he made earlier. He felt a sudden, heavy lump in his throat, and tears filled his eyes, spilling soundlessly at the unexpected kindness.
The dark lord brought his hands in front of them both, and regarded the marks on Legolas’ wrists impassively for a moment or two. Legolas found his eyes drawn to the same thing. His wrists were bleeding where he had struggled, but he hadn’t even felt it until now. He watched as Sauron brought one of his hands to his mouth and licked at a line of blood. For the briefest moment a monstrous shadow seemed to pass over his features, but it was over before Legolas could really see it.
Sauron looked back into his eyes then. Still the same cold gaze, giving nothing away. Legolas gasped when Sauron began to tie his hands again, this time in front of him. But he didn’t object, he just continued to stare, until something in him made him want to speak.
“Thank you,” he murmured, and at that Sauron’s lips twitched, his eyes glittering a little more in the gloom. Other arms closed around him from behind, and Sauron released his hands, allowing Maglor to pull Legolas away.
“No… let me go,” he protested weakly, trying to move back towards Sauron, as the dark lord turned away from him. He tried to keep Sauron in his sight as Maglor drew him away and came to stand before him, lifting his hands and arms. He was barely aware of Maglor and what he was doing, but he soon found his arms secured high above his head, high enough that he almost had to stand on tip-toe to accommodate the new position. All that mattered was that he could see the dark lord, and he felt an unnatural gratitude when Sauron walked back towards him.
pen neth – young one
Herdir – Master
Hîr nín – my Lord
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.