Completely A.U. Legolas slave fic. This story was inspired by Bluegolds story "Bound", which can be found here: http://daemel.freespaces.com/authors.html#blue
I use similar plot ideas here with her permission.
Betareader: Many thanks to Surreysmum, who polished this and made it so much better! All still remaining errors are my own.
Warnings: Slash. M/m, BDSM, d/s, torture, toys, non-con and debatable consent. Very graphic descriptions. Special warnings for this chapter: BDSM
Please heed the warnings!
Disclaimer: Universe and characters are not mine, but Tolkien's. The idea of the spell, however, belongs to me.
Guide: Occasionally I work with flashback scenes. Here is a Guide:
// /flashback/ //; ************Time change within a flashback***********; "speech"; 'thoughts'
For all other warnings, other disclaimers and author's notes see Story Intro.
Boromir of Gondor was not a happy man. Grimly he looked forward along the long file of the Fellowship to the lead where one of the sources of his discontent walked. Aragorn was in a quiet conference with the wizard. He was without his fairer shadow for once; the Elf was not in sight right now, since half an hour ago he had taken off again to scout ahead. So there was nothing around even to improve the scenery. And just behind him, Boromir could hear the constant grumbling of Gimli, the Dwarf.
Boromir scowled. It was not only that he find himself walking through a bleak, empty country, on a mission he considered sheer madness, while he was dearly needed in the war at home. But that mission was also set to destroy the one powerful weapon that might be just enough to change the luck of Gondor in that war for good, the very weapon he, Boromir, had been sent to secure by his father. A weapon that now was carried by a Halfling, whom he and the others had sworn to protect, since the Hobbit alone could hardly so much as protect himself from a wolf, should they ever meet one in this cursed barren land.
Not that Boromir held any dislike towards the Hobbits. On the contrary, he liked them well. They just weren't anything like capable fighters. And to give something like that One Ring into the hand of such as they... It boggled his mind.
So, not only did he find himself on a Quest whose very purpose contradicted everything he himself believed in, no! But he also had to do it in the company of a sour, grumpy Dwarf, four Halflings just too prone to mischief and unable to defend themselves should the company be attacked, an easily angered wizard his father Denethor had always regarded as ambitious and not to be trusted, and a dour, haughty, arrogant Ranger too ragged to command any true respect, who claimed to be Isildur's long lost heir and to have a lawful claim to Gondor's vacant throne. Not to mention an Elf who was too flighty and too aloof to grace a mere Man of Gondor like him with the pleasures of a longer conversation, let alone his company, albeit he had no such reservations toward the Hobbits. Nor toward that Ranger who happened to be his lover.
And that was another part of this journey that rankled him. Those two were always sneaking off together to share what was probably some hot cuddling match, while the others of the Fellowship, like for example him, had nothing but their thoughts to warm themselves at night. It just wasn't fair!
Black jealousy clouded Boromir's mind and made him loathe the Ranger even more. He knew himself as an experienced soldier, and he was no stranger to prolonged abstinence, especially during warfare. He had endured worse hardships, and under much nastier conditions. Nor did it bother him that the Ranger and the Elf were males who shared their beds. Boromir had had his own share of lovers, both male and female, in the past, although presently he knew of no-one who would wait for him and miss him during the nights at home.
No, it was the fact that these two did not even bother to attempt to set their love-life aside and concentrate on the task at hand on this Quest. Instead they even claimed to undertake noble 'scouting missions', when, in truth, all they probably did during those trips was scout each other's arses. And then they even claimed to be too exhausted to take a turn of the watches!
And what was that Ranger doing anyway, clutching this male Elf as his lover, while Boromir had heard the Hobbits chatting just the other day about the necklace the Ranger always wore, and that it meant he was betrothed to an Elven Lady? Apparently he was the intended of the beautiful Arwen, the daughter of Lord Elrond himself. Boromir had just seen the lady from afar, but had to admit she was a prize indeed. And still, the Ranger entertained that dalliance with his lover?
Was one Elf not enough for the man? Did he have to claim two? And if he was supposed to be a future king of men, could he not find himself a nice woman of his own race to marry? Why did it have to be an Elf in the first place?
Although, thinking of Elves, Boromir had to admit he could well see the attraction. Especially when it came to the one among their company on this forsaken Quest.
Indeed Legolas' company was one of the few assets Boromir could see in the current circumstances. From their unlucky start at the Council he had grown quite a bit fonder and more respectful of the Elf, although he had rarely found the opportunity to exchange more than a few words. But Legolas was definitely easy on the eyes, and most of the times when he was in their company, and was not walking too closely to the Ranger, but rather chatting with the Hobbits, he was even merry.
In the evenings, especially when they had the time to sit and chat a bit, Legolas would open up a little and even grace the company occasionally with a melodic song. Only at night he would retreat to his place beside (or sometimes in) the bedding of the Ranger, and always when Boromir approached the Elf he found the watchful eyes of the other Man on him. He would not have minded, only Legolas had a tendency to clam up if the Dunadan gave the slightest indication of displeasure.
In fact, Boromir could hardly understand why the Elf seemed so wary of the Man. Legolas was supposed to be a warrior, after all, even a prince, and he had clearly not shown any hesitation to confront Boromir when it came to defending Aragorn against him at the council. But at the slightest command of the Ranger he backed down and obeyed.
He always did.
And since there had been hardly any chance for privacy with the elusive Elf, Boromir had not managed to come one bit closer to solving this puzzle.
But he resolved within his own mind that he would.
Grimly, Boromir trudged on, determined to make another attempt at getting closer to Elf as soon as possible.
Boromir's opportunity came at the midday rest. The Elf had returned an hour ago and had led them to this place, covered by some bushes, some gnarled trees, and with a little brook running in the vicinity. The Hobbits had decided to make camp at once. Ahead, the territory seemed to grow more unfriendly, with hills, rocky ground and large boulders blocking a longer view.
The Ranger had taken his plate from Sam and sat now a little aside, quietly conferring with the wizard. The Hobbits chatted among themselves, and Gimli sat aside, enjoying his pipe. That left Legolas, thoughtfully looking at the sky, his plate forgotten beside him. Boromir took his chance and settled himself beside the Elf.
"You did a fine task of scouting again, finding us this place," he began.
Legolas turned his head from the sky and looked at him, a bit astonished and startled out of his thoughts. He smiled. "My thanks," he said. "I hope we will find more of these in the territory ahead. We're nearing Hollin now, if I am not mistaken. The land should become easier with time."
Boromir looked at him. "So you traveled here before? I wondered," he said, "you seemed to know the territory well."
Legolas blushed a bit. "I have traveled here before," he acknowledged, although he did not elaborate further. "But the last few days, we could recognize little of the land, for it was much changed by landslides." He reached for his plate again and took another bite. "Have you ever traveled here before?"
Boromir thought the blush of the Elf very becoming. He shook his head.
"Never," he said with regret. "The longest travel I have undertaken before this Quest has been my ride to Rivendell, and then I passed through lands further west and used the Green Way." He shrugged. "The war in Minas Tirith does not leave much time for travel save to raise allies or partake in campaigns," he explained. Then he looked appraisingly at the Elf. "You seem troubled by something," he observed.
Legolas blushed again. "I am troubled by the weather," he said quickly. "The sky is clouded, and has been for days. Not much opportunity to see the stars, or even the sun. I miss them!"
Boromir had the distinct impression that this wasn't all that troubled the Elf, but he was sure that he would get no further explanation. "If we make it to Minas Tirith," he offered, "I will take you to the citadel and up the Tower of Ecthelion! It is a marvel, higher even than the Tower of Orthanc! From there you will have a wonderful view of the stars. You would really like it!"
Legolas smiled. He was a little amused at the Gondorian's eager invitation. In his mind, he wryly added: 'Oh, yes, and while I enjoyed the tower in your company, the rest of our Fellowship would probably get a prolonged and guided tour through the dungeons. Especially Aragorn and Frodo!'-- But he took care not to say that aloud and not let any of these thoughts show on his face. Instead he offered: "I think I'd like that very much. I have heard a lot of good things about your city."
'And it was nice enough when I saw it before, although it could certainly use more greenery,' he added in his thoughts. But suddenly he started and looked up like a trapped animal at the approaching, unfamiliarly loud thread of his master.
Aragorn's face was clouded and stormy, and Legolas paled.
"Legolas," his master said harshly, "come along! The day does not get younger while we dally, and we have to scout the way ahead!"
Legolas saw his face and had no doubts he was in trouble. There was a palpable dark cloud looming over Aragorn's head. Swallowing, he managed to offer his master a polite nod and set his plate away. "Excuse me, Master Boromir," he offered politely, "but duty calls!"
And with that he rose and followed his master without further delay.
Boromir stared after them, irritated and troubled. What was it with this Ranger? Was he now jealous if someone else so much as chatted with his lover?
Pondering his options for a few moments, he finally reached a decision and rose himself.
Legolas had seemed quite displeased by the sudden 'call to duty', and quite a bit uneasy at following it. Maybe it was better he made sure there was no trouble waiting for the Elf!
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If Legolas had feared a harsh inquiry about his chat with the Man of Gondor, his misgivings proved to be in vain. Instead, Aragorn walked on, grimly and wordlessly, until they had covered quite some ground away from the camp and reached a place among large boulders. There he suddenly turned around and stopped.
Legolas watched him, eyes wide with apprehension. Aragorn's expression didn't bode well for him.
"Now, Little Leaf, I finally have you for myself!" Aragorn said grimly. "Here we will not be disturbed by the Dwarf!"
Legolas looked around in alarm. They had walked well out of earshot, and they were covered in the direction of the camp not only by the boulders, but by the soft bulge of a hill that blocked the direct line of sight. Still, they were far too close to the others and far too exposed for his liking. It was bright day, and although the sky was clouded otherwise the air was clear, allowing far sight in all directions. From any angle that was not blocked by the boulders they would be in plain sight. If any of the others decided to follow them, or just took a little hike...
And anyway, weren't they supposed --?
"But," he dared to object, "Aragorn-- the scouting--?"
Aragorn shook his head in mounting irritation. He stepped close. His face was harsh and determined, and Legolas could see a fey light in his eyes.
"The scouting isn't necessary anymore," Aragorn said, "we left the area changed by the landslides behind yesterday. Didn't you notice? From now on, my memory will serve again."
He was very close now and grabbed for his slave, drawing him to himself.
"I have waited for a chance to take you undisturbed all day!" he said. "Now I will have you! Undress, Little Leaf! I want to take you!"
Legolas could feel him tremble with passion, and he could feel it jump over to himself and kindle his own. Still, he hesitated to obey. They were too exposed. They could not risk--
"But, My Lord!" Legolas dared to say, "The others--"
Aragorn silenced him with a harsh, demanding kiss. "I do not care about the others," he then snarled in a tone that tolerated no further disobedience. "Undress!"
Legolas' hands came up by sheer instinct to follow the command, and Aragorn let him go and took a step back to enjoy the sight.
Legolas eyes were wide with fear. He began to fumble with the straps holding his quiver, then he ceased. "But, My Lord," he finally dared to object one last time, "we can't! It is bright day! Somebody might have followed us! We could be seen--"
Aragorn hit him. Hard, and full in the face.
Legolas rocked back under the impact; then he stood, staring stunned and mutely at his master. He saw his wrath and dropped to his knees, head bowed in submission.
"I gave you an order!" Aragorn snarled. "I did not give you leave to discuss it! Down with your leggings, now! You will obey me!"
Eyes wide with shock, Legolas obeyed. Quickly, he freed himself of his quiver and his belt, then he took down his boots and leggings and knelt down again, thighs bared and groin exposed to his master's sight. He bowed his head again. He knew he would not get away with a mere spanking this time.
"I am sorry, My Lord," he dared to say, "I have failed your command. I request punishment, if you would grace me with it."
It was hard to utter the ritualistic words again, but he knew it was the only thing that might appease his master's anger now.
Aragorn nodded in dark satisfaction. "And punishment you shall receive," he snarled. "It seems I have been too gentle with you during these last few days! You forget your place. You are my slave, bound to serve my pleasure whenever and however I demand it! I think you may need a reminder of that fact!"
Legolas said nothing. He had not been given leave to speak again.
Besides, as much as his master's brutal words about his status and his duties hurt, they were still true. He was a slave, bound to serve Aragorn's pleasure. Still... to hear these words from Estel...
And Aragorn did not seem himself. It was not like him to discard reason, and never before had he punished Legolas for giving warnings to him in the wilds. Legolas kept his head bowed. He wished his master would come out of it, would shake off whatever was possessing him right now. But it was not to be. He would have to bear this. Maybe, his master would return to reason later...
He was ripped out of his musings when Aragorn stepped close to him and grabbed his hair, yanking it back and forcing his slave to look up at him.
"Do you understand?" the Ranger asked harshly.
Legolas swallowed at the pain of the tight grip in his hair, as well as at Aragorn's dark mood. "Yes, My Lord," he said.
"Do you agree?"
The slave lowered his eyes submissively. "Yes, My Lord. I am sorry! I was out of place. I ask forgiveness."
Aragorn nodded again. His gaze mellowed a little and his anger lost some of his sting. "Maybe I'll grant it after you have earned it," he nevertheless said. "You earned yourself another whipping, Little Leaf. Today, you'll feel the lash again. Give me your belt."
He let go of his slave's hair and took a step back again. Legolas bowed his head to him and took his belt, freeing it of pouch and knife and handing it to his master.
Aragorn took the belt and ran it experimentally through his other hand. He nodded with grim satisfaction. "Good. The straps of your quiver, too. I will tie you up for this!" he commanded.
Legolas swallowed again. As he had been commanded, he unfastened two of the straps of his harness and handed them over to his master.
Aragorn tested them with a sharp tug between his hands and nodded. Then he looked around, finding a smaller boulder nearby where he could sit. "Very well. Come! I want you draped over my knee for this!"
Wordlessly, Legolas got up and came over to his master, who sat down on the boulder and made him stand before him.
Aragorn took a moment to trail the belt over Legolas' thighs and groin. Then he guided his slave to turn around and bound his wrists tightly with the quiver straps. Aragorn tested the bonds with another tug, then he nodded again with satisfaction. "Now," he ordered, "get yourself down across my knee. And brace yourself! This time you will not only feel the lash, but the marks may last you for a while. And I think I will enjoy taking you tomorrow while you are still sore, without much preparation!"
Legolas obeyed. His master took a moment to fondle his yet unmarred buttocks and thighs and tease his entrance. The manipulations were much gentler than Legolas had expected, given his master's mood, and he let out a relieved breath. He believed he understood.
So it was not just Aragorn's black mood or a strange possession by the Ring which drove his master to this harshness. These last two days, Aragorn had seemed desperate, haunted by some dark vision or dream. He needed his slave in pain to take him, the curse demanded to be fed, and they had hardly found a moment of privacy, let alone enough to play long games. As much as this whipping would hurt, it certainly also would ensure that Aragorn could take him soon again without many preliminaries. In truth, as angry as his master seemed, he had not ceased to care what he did to his slave or how much he hurt him. On the contrary, while this punishment would certainly serve Aragorn's pleasure, it was as much about serving Legolas' needs as well.
Reassured, Legolas braced himself to be for Aragorn the brave, submissive lover he desired so much.
Legolas could not help hissing sharply as the first blow fell and the lash bit into his flesh; but then he bit his tongue and refused to make another noise. Yet he could not prevent jerking under the pain. Aragorn delivered the blows with routine calm; he did not draw it out, seemingly more intent to reach his goal than to derive pleasure. Yet the blows were hard, and they would certainly leave marks that lasted at least to the next day. It took effort to endure them silently. Yet suddenly, he looked up, alarmed, and even with his Elven reflexes he was not fast enough to react in time.
Aragorn savored the resigned acceptance of his slave with dark satisfaction. His arousal surged at Legolas' quiet acquiescence and hopeless effort to stay calm; he felt desire burning in his gut and groin, and he was rapidly growing hard and ready. Pride and desire surged through his soul. Brave Little Leaf... But he had not yet let the fourth blow fall when Legolas suddenly began to wriggle in his lap and shouted a warning.
"Aragorn! Stop! We are not alone!" the Elf shouted in Silvain.
For a heartbeat, Aragorn was just too irritated to react, but then long-established habits and well honed instincts took over. In an instant, he let go of the belt, rolled the Elf unceremoniously out of his lap and jumped up, reaching for his sword.
Legolas hit the hard gravel in front of him with a hiss, but Aragorn paid him no attention. He knew as well as his slave that the first order of the moment was for Legolas to get out of the way so Aragorn could defend him; at least as long as the Elf was helpless in his still bound state.
Yet he was too slow. Before he could do so much as draw his sword, he felt a blade at his own throat and Boromir's angry voice bellowed:
"Get back, you fiend! Legolas, behind me!"
So they were both intent on protecting the Elf. It would have been almost comical, had the situation not been so grave.
Slowly, Aragorn let go of the hilt of his sword and raised his hands.
"Peace, Boromir! You don't understand!" he said warily, "You are making a mistake!"
Boromir's sword poked harder at his neck.
"What is there not to understand?!" the Man of Gondor growled. "You abused him! You attacked another member of the Fellowship! But I will stop you now!"
Aragorn grew nervous. All his instincts screamed at him to draw his sword and defend himself, but Boromir was far too close. A mere flick of the wrist by the Gondorian, and he would lose his head. At the very least, he would risk being run through.
And he could not risk that, for it would spell death not only for himself, but also for his Elf.
"Boromir," he began again, but at that moment, Legolas himself came to his aid. Scrambling to his knees, then to his feet, the Elf rose up between them.
"Boromir, do not do this!" he pleaded. "Please! You do not understand!"
Angry and irritated, the Gondorian took a step back. "What do you mean? I rescued you! It was you he was abusing!" he said. "Damn it, Legolas! Get out of the way and let me kill that bastard!"
The Elf, pale in spite of his deep embarrassment, and hands still bound behind his back, shook his head and remained exactly where he stood. Aragorn fought down the urge to use Legolas' cover and draw his sword. There was no point in allowing the situation to escalate even further. Instead, he carefully took a few steps to the side and out of Boromir's immediate reach, to give himself more room for movement, and kept his hands raised and in plain sight.
"There is no need for the sword, Boromir," he began, "Things are not as they seem. Let me explain..."
Boromir growled. He stepped aside and turned around to keep the sword trained at the other Man. He grew more irritated by the moment, since the Elf would not step out of the way, but followed his movements and kept himself between him and the Dunadan.
"What is there to explain?" the man of Gondor raged. "I've seen enough! I will not let you hurt him anymore! Out of the way, Legolas!"
He raised his sword. The Elf grew desperate. He shook his head.
"Boromir, no! Don't hurt him! It is his right..."
"His right?!" the Man of Gondor raged, "How can it be his right to abuse you!?" He hesitated a moment, narrowing his eyes. "Do you enjoy being hurt?" he then demanded harshly with palpable derision.
Legolas shook his head.
"I was disobedient," he began in a small voice, pained by what he would have to reveal.
Aragorn shook his head and stopped him with a fast command.
"Stop it, Little Leaf," he said, "let me explain this!"
Obediently, Legolas fell silent.
Boromir stared at the Elf for a moment, completely irritated, then he looked from him to Aragorn. "Well, then," he snarled, "I suggest you be quick, for I am losing patience!"
Aragorn shook his head. "Not here and now," he said. "I will not explain all this to you and then repeat it later, and I think I owe this explanation not only to you, but to all of the Fellowship."
Legolas paled even more. "Estel!" he said in alarm.
Aragorn bowed his head. "It is all right, Little Leaf," he said, "I think it is time we told them."
Legolas looked at him in alarm, then he bowed his head, turned to study the ground and blushed. His shoulders slumped in despair.
Boromir watched him for a moment with growing vexation, then he turned his glare back to Aragorn.
"Tell us what?!" he demanded.
Aragorn sighed. "I will disclose everything," he promised, "in time. Now, will you sheathe your sword and allow me to release Legolas so he can cover himself? The sooner we go back, the sooner you will get your explanation! I promise I will not attack you. Nor will he!"
Boromir stared at him another moment, then he looked at the Elf again. Very hesitantly, the Man of Gondor took a step back. But then he shook his head.
"No," he decided. "First, you will give up your weapon! Away with your belt! Then I'll allow you to release the Elf, and we'll go back!"
Warily, Legolas dared to say: "There is no need---"
--but he was stopped by a sharp Elvish command from the Ranger and fell silent.
Aragorn locked his gaze with Boromir and nodded. "If I give up my weapons, will you allow me to untie the Elf and to go back to the camp?" he asked, "and will you be content to let me explain the situation to you and the others there?"
Boromir regarded him for a moment with narrowed eyes. "If I agree will you give up your sword and follow quietly?" he asked, "Without any attack or attempt to get away? And will you give a full recounting there and bow to our judgment?"
Aragorn hesitated a moment. The latter did not bode well and caused him disquiet. Still, there was hardly anything else he could do.
"I will," he said, "if it does not endanger my Elf." Carefully he let his hands sink to his belt.
"Your Elf?!" Boromir sputtered, taken aback by the seeming sheer presumptuousness of the other Man.
Aragorn just raised his hand again. "Peace, Boromir! I promised you to tell the whole tale later! Now, are we in agreement?"
Warily, the man of Gondor nodded.
Aragorn nodded back. He reached for his belt and unbuckled it, then he let it fall to the ground, sword, knife and all, and took a step back.
Boromir nodded. "Now free the Elf!" he said.
Aragorn cocked his head. "Of course," he said. "Come, Little Leaf. Let me release you. Then cover yourself again and pick up our weapons."
Wordlessly, Legolas obeyed. Boromir watched as Aragorn unbuckled the straps that bound the wrists of the Elf with surprising gentleness. With a start he realized after a moment that these were the very straps of Legolas' own quiver, and the Ranger had obviously hurt the Elf with Legolas' own belt. His anger flared all anew.
Finally, the Elf was free. Quickly, he went to fetch his belt, then he walked over to the place where he had discarded his leggings and his weapons and dressed himself again. Finally, he buckled his quiver back on. He exchanged a quick, nearly imperceptible glance with the Ranger, and at the equally subtle shake of the Adan's head, he gave a short nod and went to fetch Aragorn's belt with his weapons.
Picking them up he turned back to Boromir again, ready to go.
But his hue was nearly crimson, now, and he looked persistently to the ground. Boromir narrowed his eyes. Suddenly he did not wish to have the Elf at his back when he brought the Ranger back to the camp as prisoner.
"You go ahead," he commanded, "Aragorn goes after you. If he tries to escape, you shoot him. Is that clear?"
"Estel will not try to escape," the Elf said quietly. "He gave you his word. He will return to the camp and give an explanation."
But he did not look up, and during the walk back to the camp he looked as if he were about to face his own execution.
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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.