: Never Wanted This (Chapter 7)Rating
: I own nothing except for some of the exceptionally retarded characters (ie : Daged and co.) Everything you recognize or think you recognize probably belongs to Tolkien. This story was written purely for enjoyment. Summary
: Captured by a cruel man determined to break him, Aragorn learns that in a world where he has nothing to lose but life itself, hope is not easily found.Warnings
: Slash, rape, torture, ect. Additional Notes
: This story is AU, it does not take place in Tolkein’s ME. In terms of timelines, Aragorn is approximately 20 years old (in the movies he was 87). Also, I've messed around with the timelines, so certain characters ages don't match up (Denethor).Previous ChaptersChapter 7
‘Aragorn,’ Legolas shook the ranger’s shoulder gently, drawing him from sleep. ‘Aragorn, someone approaches.’
The youth moaned groggily, slowly pushing his body up onto his elbows. He rested his weight against one hand as he used the other to ineffectually attempt to wipe sleep from his eyes.
‘How long was I asleep?’ Aragorn rasped.
‘Half of the night,’ Legolas replied.
Aragorn pressed the heels of his hands into his closed eyes. He was sick from exhaustion; his eyes burned and his head pounded angrily. The fear that never seemed to vanish entirely was growing again, and he could feel his body trembling. Legolas rested one hand against the beaten youth’s shoulder and the ranger’s tremors subsided at his touch.
Nearly a full minute passed before Aragorn was able to hear the sound of voices approaching in the hallway. He raised in his head, unable to suppress the fear that rose inside him at violent crescendo, and when he heard the unmistakable sound of keys at the door, he stiffened perceptibly, his body beginning to tremble anew.
Legolas was watching him with concern, and Aragorn knew that it pained the elf to see him unraveling in such a manner. He turned frightened eyes onto the immortal, desperate for reassurance, and Legolas gave him a shaky half smile.
The door opened and Daged entered the room, accompanied by Denethor. Denethor’s eyes instantly sought out Aragorn and the youth felt panic well inside of him at the hungry expression in the Gondorian’s dark eyes.
Daged stopped, surveying them both with a critical eye, the corners of his mouth twitching in a smirk.
‘Take the whore,’ he told Denethor, waving his hand carelessly towards Aragorn. When Denethor began to approach, Legolas got to his feet, halting Denethor’s advance.
‘Let him be,’ the elf said quietly, a hint of anger perceptible his voice. Denethor’s steps faltered in surprise, so shocked was he at being spoken to in such a fashion.
‘Hold your tongue, slave, less I decide to tear it from your mouth,’ Denethor snapped. ‘Have you no notion to whom you speak? I am Denethor, son of Ecthelion, and am the only individual within these walls to have shown Aragorn the slightest bit of kindness.’
‘Kindness?’ Legolas sneered, his words coloured with contempt. ‘You feign kindness and drug Aragorn into submission to dull his cries of pain because you are ashamed to look into the mirror and recognize yourself as a pitiless rapist. The only way you could possibly show him any kindness would to be leave him alone, for he suffers enough without your added abuse.’
Aragorn felt frozen in place, watching the exchange in terror. Denethor’s eyes were alight with anger and his hands were clenched into white knuckled fists at his side.
‘If, as you claim, you were in any way kind, you would exercise your power over Daged and release Aragorn from his clutches, but rather than do so, you would benefit from his captivity.’
‘Silence, Legolas,’ Daged ordered, stepping forwards then and throwing the elf a look so full of malice that the immortal faltered momentarily, and within that moment Daged succeeded in grabbing him forcefully by the arm and throwing him backwards against the wall, catching both of Legolas’ wrists and pinning him against the stone. The elf struggled briefly, which only fueled Daged’s anger, and succeeded in encouraging the man to release one wrist just long enough to land a blow on the side of the immortal’s head.
Legolas ceased his struggles and stilled, watching Daged from eyes dark with anger.
‘Legolas,’ Aragorn whispered in horror, struggling to his feet. Daged’s eyes darted to the youth, a cruel smile playing across his lips.
‘Quiet, Aragorn!’ Legolas snapped, struggling forcefully against Daged’s grip. His struggles drew the Gondorian’s attention away from the ranger and back to the elf, and Daged snarled in anger.
‘Perhaps you need to be reminded of your place,’ Daged threatened, forcing the elf towards the door.
Watching the retreating elf, Aragorn felt nauseous. The immortal risked a quick glance over his shoulder, locking gazes with the ranger. Aragorn saw, reflected in his eyes, honest fear as well as a flash of … triumph?
Sickness welled in Aragorn’s stomach as the realization hit him that Legolas had purposefully sacrificed himself in order to spare the ranger any further pain that night. With a final, fleeting look at the pale youth, Denethor followed Daged out of the room, the door closing behind him with finality.xxxxx
Daged did not return that night, nor the next day. Aragorn spent the hours alone in his master’s chambers as he was not permitted to wander Minas Tirith without Daged’s leave, and even though remaining in the Gondorian’s quarters meant that the ranger received no food that day, going hungry was a small price to pay for solitude.
Legolas’ virtue, however, was not.
Alone with his thoughts, Aragorn couldn’t help but imagine what type of punishment Daged would inflict upon the elf. He felt sick each time he reflected on Legolas’ actions, and knowing that he was the reason the immortal would be hurt weighed heavily upon his heart.
Daged returned later that night. Sleep eluded Aragorn, and the ranger was sitting on the window sill, watching the stars in silent contemplation. He turned wary eyes upon his master, a thrill of terror racing up his spine as he took in the dried blood splashed on the front of Daged’s tunic.
‘The elf bleeds like a stuck pig,’ his master muttered, pulling the dirty tunic over his head and discarding it carelessly on the floor. He motioned to Aragorn, who approached slowly.
‘Tend to me,’ Daged ordered. Aragorn unclothed his master his master in silence. He gathered the blood stained tunic from the floor and put Daged’s clothing in the hamper for the servants to clean. By then, Daged had made his way to the bed and was laying on his back, watching Aragorn return to his side.
‘Is there anything else I can do for you?’ Aragorn asked quietly.
‘You can bathe,’ Daged told him, closing his eyes. ‘You smell filthy.’
By the time Aragorn returned from the bathhouse, Daged was asleep, and for a moment Aragorn contemplated waking him. The young ranger could not remember the last time his master had gone to sleep without first using his slave. He banished the thought quickly, and after shedding the leggings he’d worn to the bathhouse and back, crawled into bed beside Daged even though being close to the man who caused so much pain was the last thing he wanted to do. Aragorn spent a sleepless night, the image of the elf’s blood on Daged’s clothing a vivid image in his mind.TBC