Chapter Text
Dark, damp and sticky.
Legolas didn't know how many days he had spent in this dark dungeon, there was no light, no life, only eternal darkness mixed with the smell of blood and bodily fluids left behind by sexual intercourse, and the orcs who came here from time to time to torment him were the only creatures.
The elf's physique allowed him to recover quickly from even intense rapes, the marks left by the abuse disappearing in no time, which was only rewarded with rougher treatment. The elf's flawless white body was nothing short of blinding to orcs as they enjoyed the thrill of destroying something beautiful.
“Look at this elf cub come back to life, a gift from the gods.”
Pulled up by his blonde hair, the mocking words bored into Legolas' ears, tearing at his nearly broken heart, his blue eyes hollow and desperate as he was powerless to withstand orcs' molest, feeling for the first time that Ilúvatar's gift was a curse.
The hot, hard cock once again cruelly parted the tender pussy lips, and after ravaging and crushing the thin, narrow canal, it crashed through the sensitive womb with a “pfft” sound, and Legolas trembled and threw his neck back, his eyes were lax, and his eyes went black, and he couldn't control the tears that stayed behind.
“Wu...”
How in the world can this end ...... he thought desperately, the sound of chains slamming and Legolas's uncontrollable moans mixing together, almost making him lose the ability to think. There was a slippery touch on his back as an orc pressed up to lick the cuts that had been made on the elf's body. And even more frightening was the fact that after being ravaged for so long, his body was slowly becoming accustomed to being roughly invaded, and even as much as he resisted with disgust, his body continued to experience a killing pleasure from the atrocity. He would be kept here until these orcs got tired of playing with him, and no one would be able to save him.
“Hey, master told you to guard the dungeon, and you're actually running here to enjoy yourself?”
An orc kicked the cell door open violently, and unsurprisingly saw his accomplice pressed up against the elfling to take out his desires, the elfling had practically become a military whore since his master had captured the elfling back. His master said to play with him as they pleased, but not to kill him, which gave them some fun during their depressing time in Dol Guldur, they had never seen such a pretty elf before, let alone fucked one, and it was rumored that it was a prince, so each of the orcs couldn't wait to fuck the elf hard.
The orc, who was busy doing his thing, didn't even pay attention to the yells of his accomplice. He grinned and panted, his movements rough and hasty, as if he wanted to take out all his pent up anger on the little elf.
Today their master had gone with his army to attack the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain, and Dol Guldur was much emptier and less guarded. He had been guarding the dungeon, but at the thought of an elf-oh should that be a whore prince in that dungeon, the corners of his mouth twitched in a greedy and obsessive grin. Who had the heart to guard? So what if it was lax, how dare those tree-rats attack?
“Stupid, don't get in my way if you're not enjoying yourself.”
However, what responded to him was not the roar of his accomplice, but a chill of a blade. It slashed out of the darkness, swift and sharp, with anger and the pathos of having suppressed it for too long. As the words fell, the orc's head tumbled to the ground, still with a twisted expression.
There was blood splattered on his face, and Legolas leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the rolling head, his eyes empty and sluggish, as if his mind was still stagnant in an endless nightmare. He didn't even realize that the orc who had tormented him was dead.
Until he heard the voice.
“Legolas--”
Low and familiar, tinged with anxiety and worry.The young elf shivered, then gaped as the tall figure --his father--kicked the abuser aside and pulled him into a crushing embrace. But he stood limp, too shocked to return the hug, the corners of his mouth slightly open in a sound so soft it was barely audible:
“Ada?”
I must be dying, why else am I hallucinating. Legolas felt himself falling into a warm embrace, and he trembled as he raised his hand in an attempt to touch the other elf, but he didn't even have the strength to lift it, and his hand fell only to be grabbed and kissed softly by the other elf with a mixture of heartache and self-condemnation.
He felt drops of water fall on his face, this is not a dream, this is really ada.
As soon as Thranduil entered the cell he was met with a scene that nearly broke his heart. The slimy sound of water in the room was interspersed with the miserable wails of the elfling, and with orc's form blocking most of his view, Thranduil could only see a thin white arm covered in bruises and drooping helplessly to the floor, and a few strands of blonde hair that showed through. Yet he could see at a glance what orc was doing to his child.
He could no longer control the anger and sadness in his heart, the composure he had forced from the moment he learned of Legolas' capture broke at this moment, and in a violent rage he slashed off the head of the orc, who was still in the throes of his pleasure, and black and red blood instantly spurted out, and Thranduil did not duck, letting the dirty blood splatter on his clothes, and kicked the body away, and froze, staring at Legolas behind the dead body, with his little greenleaf leaning weakly against the the wall, his blonde hair that should have shone dull, his body dirty with blood and body fluids and covered in signs of abuse.
He slowly fell to his knees, shakily reaching out to take the broken elfling into his arms, his arms uncontrollably strong, fearing that the greenleaf in his arms would leave him in the next second. He shuddered to think that if the Dol Guldur guards hadn't been reduced this time to allow them the opportunity to raid, then he might be about to lose his little leaf forever. He feared that he could not bear the pain of losing his son, and it would not be long before he too would follow in his child's footsteps, his soul traveling to that western holy land just to meet again. He listened to Legolas' faint breathing and grabbed the other elf's hand as he tried to touch his own, kissing it softly, then kissing the dirty forehead.
“It's okay, little leaf, it's okay, let's go home.”
Legolas felt like he was wrapped in soft clouds, surrounded by the familiar scent of the forest, the filth and the stench seemed to be far away, and everything was calling him to sleep. His consciousness blurred and his long exhausted mind and body were finally allowed to rest.
In the bath, Thranduil smoothed Legolas' hair, already damp with cold sweat; he could not bear to look closely at the scars on Legolas' body, wanting only to hurry and clean the child's body. He gently parted the thin white legs, the pussy between the legs was even more tortured and miserable, the two fleshy lips shivered like a surly flower, revealing the pink pussy flesh inside and the dirty whiteness that orcs had gotten into.
Legolas opened his misty eyes and watched his legs wide open exposing his fleshy entrance to Thranduil, he couldn't control the redness of his ears, how could he be ada to see this lewd and dirty body.
Thranduil's knuckles probed, the stimulating touch again reminding Legolas of the atrocious sex he had suffered not so long ago, and there was a palpitation, the heavens swirling around him as if he were back to the hopelessness of the time when he had been tortured by his imprisonment, and the sounds of orcs' coarse humiliation and the slapping of his flesh ringing in his ears. He couldn't help shivering, struggling uncontrollably to hide, crying out in near collapse, "No, don't ...... it hurts ...... please ...... "
Thranduil saw him reacting violently, those wet eyes filled with fear and dull, his heart throbbed as he took him into his arms, his palms stroking along his back a little to comfort him.
"Don't be afraid, it's ada, those are in the past, no one can hurt you now. Trust ada okay, I won't let little leaf be in pain."
Legolas didn't say anything, he just buried himself in Thranduil's arms and whimpered, Thranduil felt the little elf in his arms slowly relaxing under his soothing touch, only then did he put his two fingers together and slowly pushed them up into the wet and soft slit, Legolas' body instantly tightened up and then slowly relaxed, Legolas tried hard to restrain himself from wanting to run away, and allowed his father's fingers to go deeper.
Thranduil's heart ached, the baby he held close to his heart was being tortured like this, and he could only regret that it was he who had failed to protect Legolas. He moved with the utmost gentleness, without a hint of lust, afraid that his movements would make the child think of those horrible things again.
The fingers inside him slowly snapped and dug, exploring deeper and deeper bit by bit against the walls of flesh, the remnants of semen inside the pussy slowly flowing out along with the fingers and the stream of water. Legolas let out a hard gasp and subconsciously tried to struggle, Thranduil suddenly kissed him, and Legolas' mind didn't react for a moment. The lingering kiss ended, and the cave was cleaned of the stuff left behind by those dirty orcs.
Thranduil gently rubbed Legolas' blonde hair, washing him of the dirt that had gotten on it, and it finally regained some of its luster. Then he gently scrubbed his body, trying to avoid bruises and wash away stains.
Once cleaned, Legolas was carried to his room, nothing had changed, even the book he had looked through before he left was still on the same page, and it was in this room that Thranduil stayed these days, trying to feel what little scent his baby had left behind.
Legolas was put to bed, and the soft touch underneath him caused him to close his eyes and drift off into a dream. But looking at Thranduil's back as he turned to leave, he couldn't sleep.
It's so hard ......
Legolas thought about his father's fingers that had probed into his body today and felt his caves so empty that he longed for something to come in and poke around. He clenched his legs under the covers and rubbed them gently, exhaling burning breath so disgusted with his body.
Ada......
His hands trembled as they probed his lower body, delirious as all he could think about was Thranduil's gentle movements. His body was sensitive to the core after being over-ravaged, and his female pussy, still wet and soft today, was opening and closing and spitting water outward in anticipation of the object's entry. Legolas' fingers were cold, and he aroused himself with a shudder as he plunged in, his pussy secreting more watery fluid, and an even harder, finer itch coming from deep within.
He pumped shallowly but without pattern, trying to remember his father's movements, his fingers slowly adding up to three, his movements getting faster yet still hard.
It's not enough ...... It's not enough ......
Legolas thought with difficulty, almost crying out, why his body had become like this.
This was the image Thranduil saw when he came in, he had merely gone to get clean clothes and came back to see his boy sitting on his knees with his legs wide open, tears kept rolling from the corners of his eyes as his fingers moved in and out of the reddish female pussy, his motions still getting rougher and rougher.
“Legolas.”
Thranduil, seeing that he was in a bad mood and fearing that he might hurt himself with his rough movements, spoke up to interrupt Legolas, who was immersed in self-complaints. The elfling shuddered violently and looked up with wide, wet eyes, the shame of being caught masturbating by his father making him almost inconsolable as his little pussy shivered and spat out a stream of water.
“Oooh, ada, I'm sorry ...... I ......”
Legolas twisted his legs tightly, the pleasure of his orgasm causing him to stifle a low gasp, but with it came an even greater emptiness. Thranduil walked over and gently pulled his fingers out, a large stream of nectar followed, wetting the sheets beneath him. Legolas, so ashamed he could die on the spot, did not speak, just shivered slightly with his head down, his legs still unable to resist the urge to clench and fondle.
He spat at himself inwardly, disgusted with his body, with the tormenting desire, with the fact that he actually wished his father to enter him hard.
Thranduil's heart twisted together, he should have realized it long ago, what brutal torture his child had suffered at the hands of those orcs, he could not wait to kill all those beasts. He wrapped his arms around Legolas, his hands constantly soothing and patting him on the back, tiny kisses falling at the corners of his eyes, on the side of his face, whispering soothing words in his ear.
“Baby, don't say you're sorry, it's not your fault.”
Said while reaching out to explore the reddish small cave, "Is it hard? Don't be afraid, let ada help you ......"
Fingers slowly penetrated deeper into the flower path, as soon as they did he felt the flesh of the pussy wrapping hungrily around it. Legolas only felt a burst of pleasure, but it was never enough, Thranduil's gentle strokes were like scratching an itch, and the sensitive pussy flesh continued to tighten, begging for a thicker object to enter.
“Ada, it's not enough ...... I want you ......ada, I want you to come in!”
Legolas rubbed against Thranduil kittenishly, unable to control himself any longer, and he jerked awake when he realized what he had said. What did I say? How could I ......
A wave of fear flooded through him, he was afraid, afraid ada would loathe him from now on, discard him. It was dirty enough that he had been assaulted by orcs, to think that he was delusional enough to have that kind of relationship with his father.
“Ada I'm sorry, I ...... I'm not, I didn't ......”
Tears welled up again, fear on the verge of crushing him again, and he hurriedly bobbed his head in defense. But Thranduil hugged him tightly, cupping his face and coming forward to tenderly kiss the teardrops away, then pressed his lips to those bitten lips. It was the wrong occasion, but god knew how happy he was to hear this from Legolas; it turned out that his child also had thoughts of him that were different from those of a father and son, and all this time he had felt that his thoughts of his child were sinful. Whenever someone complimented him on how beautiful and well-behaved Legolas was, the wariness and possessiveness that welled up after the pleasure surprised himself.
He gently pried open the tightly closed lips and slid his tongue into the other's mouth, grazing the sensitive palate and intertwining with the small tongue. The gentle yet forceful kiss ended, and Legolas gasped slightly. He had been afraid that he had frightened his baby, and now he could finally confess.
“I love you Legolas, you are my most precious baby, never resent yourself, I won't let anything hurt you again.”
Throughout the years Legolas would still think of that experience, and late at night he would dream of countless large hands brutally grabbing him and pulling him. And whenever he fell into a nightmare, his ada always woke him up in time, whispering to him stories of the past of those Mirkwood, stories of when the forests had not yet been invaded by the darkness, filling his broken heart inch by inch with love. The voice was low and steady, as if it contained some kind of ancient magic, soothing the rift in his heart. His ada would enter him gently as his body craved to be violated beyond control. Slowly, the scars on his body recovered as before, and the wounds on his heart faded in the company of his father and friends.
He became more skilled at drawing his bow and arrows, practicing with his sword, and instead of being the little elf who couldn't even protect himself, he grew into one of the best warriors in the Mirkwood. His arrows were so accurate that he was able to hit the orcs that raided the borders from afar, and he was so lithe that he was able to move silently through the shadows, able to penetrate deeper into the spiders' lairs on his own.
Since he and ada had confessed their feelings for each other, they had grown even closer, so close that even the other elves were surprised, but couldn't quite put their finger on what was wrong with it, or perhaps the way a king and prince were supposed to be.
Decades passed in a flash for the elf, Legolas thought he had forgotten the hurt completely, but the hurt was just buried deep in his memory, waiting for the right opportunity to jump out and bite him back, and that opportunity came soon enough.
A band of lost dwarves had broken into the Mirkwood, drawing the orcs to attack. Legolas has long been unafraid of the orcs, those dark creatures only loathing, immediately regardless of the dwarves, leading a few elves to destroy the orcs, fighting and forgetting his father's advice, this chase has been chased to the town of Lake-town. One of the orcs was about to make a move on an unarmed innocent human when he was shot through the head with an arrow by Legolas.
Legolas didn't pay attention to the messy humans and dwarves in the room, his little brain didn't have time to think about how so many people could fit into such a small room, his attention was attracted by the group of fleeing orcs, and he seemed to see a familiar figure.
After catching up, they met in a dark alley. It was dead silent all around, the moonlight piercing through the clouds and spilling over Legolas, coloring his blonde hair silver, his pale skin seeming to glow, out of place in the filth around him. Legolas' eyes were locked on the hulking figure across from him. Buried scars were lifted, and a chill instantly penetrated the elf's tough sinews and traveled wildly up his spine, nearly freezing his blood. He felt a spasm in his stomach and a tightening of his throat, and for a moment it was as if he smelled the sickening stench of that dark dungeon again and heard his own desperate sobs.
Bolg's evil gaze fell on the elf across from him, greedily traveling over Legolas's slender body, from the turquoise blue eyes that were filled with caution and hatred then to the taut line of the shoulders and neck, sliding down to the slender waist, and down ...... the revealing eyes as if they were about to roughly rip the clothes off the elf.
“So you're still alive.” Bolg grinned, his tone tinged with suppressed excitement, “I actually saw you a long time ago, I really didn't think you would dare to catch up alone, little prince.”
The distorted generic language drilled into Legolas' ears, and his fingertips trembled uncontrollably for a split second as the deeply buried memory came to mind -- the rough hands pressing down on his slender shoulders, the hot, wet gasp pressed against his ear, the torn fabric in the struggle, the powerlessness and shame of being violated by being firmly pinned to the ground.
Bolg noticed his hesitation and smiled deeper.
“You remember, don't you, when you cried like a dying baby deer as I fucked you, begging me over and over to stop.”
Legolas almost choked, forcing himself not to remember. He thought of ada's hand gently wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes and comforting him “Fear will nest in your heart, but you will never be a prisoner of fear, they did not destroy you and I will not let them.” The low voice seemed to dispel orc's vicious words as if by magic and gave him great courage. He gripped the sword in his hand and held it across his body, isolating him from all fear.
“I will not fear you.”
The battle raged on, Legolas swept up like the wind, his sword cutting through the darkness and slashing at Bolg's head. Two orcs who tried to sneak up on him rushed out from the side, but they were unsuccessful, and Legolas turned his blade, side-stepped and blocked the blade, and disposed of them with a backhand. A split second of distraction and the Bolg had swooped down in front of him, slashing down with his massive blade, Legolas dodged and swung his sword over but only managed to cut through his opponent's hard armor. When he stabbed the blade at orc again, he didn't expect to be gripped tightly.
Bolg felt no pain generally gripping the blade and letting the blood flow from his fingers. He looked up to savor the surprise in Legolas' eyes as the elfling tried in vain to draw his sword, but couldn't shake it a bit for lack of strength. He grinned and grabbed Legolas' arm and threw it violently against the wall, the sword flew out of the elf's hand, Legolas froze from the smash, then met it with his bare hands, only to be caught in a death grip by the Bolg, the sharp edges of his heavy armor cutting the elf's back, blood instantly staining his clothes a darker color. But Legolas ignored the pain, twisting hard to break free.
“Princeling,” the strong orc whispered against his ear, his voice full of malice, “you know, I've always wondered what you'll be like when you grow up.”
His arms wrapped around Legolas' waist in a death grip, slowly exerting himself as if to crush him, the sweet taste of elven blood adding to the orc's excitement.
“I'm sure it hasn't changed at all, still so pretty, still so fond of futile resistance.”
Bolg leaned in so close that he almost licked the tip of the elf's ear, his nose inhaling deeply with an unmistakable look of intoxication.
"Do those elves know about your lustful body, have they already tasted it? Or has your elf-king father himself come to satisfy his son, and has he fed you?"
“Shut up!”
Legolas shuddered, plummeting low and slamming his head backward with a headbutt into orc, only to be let loose with the muffled sound of a cracked nose. Taking advantage of his opponent's stagger, he flipped his arms, drew the twin daggers behind his back, and spun around in a spinning chop, moving as fast as lightning as he could, the blades nearly slashing against the Bolg's throat.
Legolas didn't care to think about orc's humiliation of him, he just wanted to finish his opponent in a hurry.
Bolg dodged Legolas' attack, it seemed that this elfling had gotten a lot stronger, Bolg thought as he dodged and dodged, he still had business to attend to, that group of dwarven scum hadn't been settled yet, he didn't have time to tangle with this elf any longer. Wait for the next time, soon, no matter the elves, dwarves or men can not escape. When he thought of the army that was heading this way, it was as if he could already see victory.
He took the opportunity to grab Legolas, tossed him to a couple of his followers, took a step back, and rolled over to mount the running warg.
“Not so fast,” he grinned, watching Legolas tangle with a couple of orcs, knowing of course that these useless henchmen wouldn't be able to stop Legolas, but it was enough to hold him off for a bit.
“I'll get you next time, I miss how cute you looked when you were breaking down, I'll help you remember if you forget.”
With that, he left in the darkness.
Legolas cut down the last of the orcs and lifted his feet to go after them, his heart was too hot to give up this chance for revenge, but just then his sensitive elven ears caught a low, long, loud roar, wrapped in anger and hatred that cut through the night sky, and though it came from the distant skies, it shook him to his chest.
His heart sank.
It was the dragon.
The god of death carried the desire for slaughter towards this supposedly peaceful town, where war, orc, dragon, and elf all seemed to exist only in legends in the Lake-town, but were nothing more than gossip after dinner. The unsuspecting men were sleeping soundly, unaware that they were about to face a catastrophe.
Legolas was stunned for a moment, then calmed down, sheathed his dagger, turned and leapt, disappearing like the wind. He had to warn the ignorant humans, he couldn't stand by and watch them die in the fire.
And they did meet soon enough, and when they met again it was at the edge of the cliffs of Ravenhill, where Legolas saw the figure from a distance on the tower, and not one to pass up the opportunity again, he threw down his bow, which had run out of arrows, and without hesitation leapt down and drove his sword into the head of the troll underneath. The troll roared in rage, but under his control staggered control and crashed into the stone tower. The stone tower fell as expected, bridging the gap, and he was finally going to liquidate others once and for all.
Before the dust had cleared Legolas stepped onto the stone bridge, and the orc across the street noticed him, Legolas didn't give him a chance to open his mouth, swinging his sword forward with suppressed anger and calmness in every strike.
After throwing the Orcrist, Legolas drew his small twin daggers once more, and without hesitation stabbed forward. Bolg held the blade once more, the exact same move and break, but he knew he had lost this time. The elf across from him flashed a smile and Bolg froze, it was the first time he had ever seen this elf smile, it wasn't mockery or pity, it was the absolute confidence of a victor. He realized that the being he had tried to destroy had never changed, he should have loathed the face, loathed the scent of the purest and best from the forest elf, but was still hopelessly drawn to it. No one could have the light, and no one could destroy the light, and that light would take his own life the next second.
Sure enough Legolas didn't give him any more chance to react, flipping over and leaping up. Bolg only felt a breeze sweep over him and a slight weight on his shoulders, the touch was light as if it was not a warrior but a leaf that landed on his shoulders, it seemed to have no weight whatsoever. With it came a deadly chill as the blade slammed into his skull, freezing the entirety of his dark, twisted soul.
Legolas stomped slightly harder and jumped onto the platform of the cliff face before the stone bridge collapsed completely, and he watched in silence as the Bolg's dead body plummeted to the valley floor, buried by boulders, along with the past that had terrified him.
The nightmare could no longer intrude on him, he had long been indestructible.