Chapter 7
Nights Of Games And Fear
by Beryll
(Eomer POV)
My master was happy. Happier than I had seen him in a long time. Maybe even happier than I had ever seen him. I sat in the big armchair in my masters living room, knees drawn up against my chest, and listened to the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, of his throaty groans and the deep moans of the man he was buried in and wondered, why I was not happy as well.
I should have been. My master was content and benevolent, treating me with more consideration and kindness than he had ever done in all the years I had served him. He smiled a lot, got drunk less often – and when he did, not into oblivion – and when he was at home he busied himself with his pleasure slave, mostly ignoring me.
But that was certainly not why I was feeling unhappy. No jealousy towards his new toy. It was true, that he now shared his bed rather with this man than with me, but that left me so much more time to spend with Legolas, who's company I definitely enjoyed more than the prince's.
If that wasn't enough I should at least been happy about Legolas. He was a marvel to be worshipped each new dawn. To watch him get up in the morning, watch him get out of bed, stretch like a big feline, smile at me with that beautiful mixture of sleepy and serene. How his hair shone, when he stood in the first rays of sunlight, bathing in them. I would have sworn that the sun alone would wash him clean of all the human ugliness surrounding him.
To watch him glide through the day in silent concentration. How he observed everything, meticulously storing every bit of information away without ever commenting on anything, without giving any hint at what went on behind his deep brown eyes.
He always knew when I needed a helping hand, always managed to be there, when I was carrying one plate too much, trying to do three things at once or some other foolish effort to meet the expectations of my master. If there was any living being who might be perfect, it was him.
And as my master still managed to completely ignore him and he could not leave the prince's chambers he was all mine. Although I tried very hard never to think that thought, it sometimes crept into my mind when I was just about to fall asleep and I would snuggle a little bit closer into his embrace.
But even if I did not own him, I was sure that he at least liked me. Whenever my master got angry at me or just touched me, I could see Legolas somewhere close by, ever watchful, ever protective. He just could not understand, that I did not have to fear the prince. And that there was not need for him to fear for my sake.
I enjoyed his silent company so much that it almost never crossed my mind, that we might share more. One afternoon I actually was foolish enough to kiss him. Really just to show him I was alright, but he looked at me with openmouthed wonder and for a moment I feared I had overstepped the line we so carefully kept between us. But my master called and there was no time, to find out what he really thought.
Still I was not happy. Not content. Since Legolas had appeared in my life, everything that had been stable for so long seemed to be adrift, unsure. I served my master. That had been my life. That had been the only thing in existence.
Now there was Legolas as well. The elf I gladly would have given my life to protect from further harm. The realization, that I would even defy my master to keep Legolas safe had seeped into my consciousness slowly and painfully. And the clearer I had seen the truth the more I began to worry. It could not continue like this for ever.
And it didn't. My master brought home his new pleasure slave and things got so much more complicated. I remember the afternoon he had Aragorn brought to his chambers to bath and shave him as if it had been yesterday. I remember how I was scared of the man on sight.
He smelled of dirt and blood and violence, he looked murderous and the guards dragging him inside wore the marks of his rage. He reminded me of a caged animal and all I could think was 'I hope it doesn't break free'.
He did nothing to improve on that first impression. My master actually had to chain him to the bed so he wouldn't hurt the prince in his sleep. How can anybody dare to even think something like that? Shouldn't this Aragorn feel honored that the prince had chosen him? It was not like he was drunk and was going to rape him, right?
It took me a bit of gossip gathering to realize, that he was not a mistreated pleasure slave but a rebel my master had picked up in the dungeon. Which brought even more confusing emotions to the surface. Had my master gone mad, Picking such a dangerous slave as his play thing?
Never before had I doubted the decisions of my master. Never before doubted his 'knowing best'. Now I had to, because I watched as this slave continued to defy him, curse him, fight him every moment they were in the same room. He hated my master. And my master knew. And my master ignored. As he always did.
What I did not understand was, why Aragorn was treating me like a despised creature, way below his level. For crying out loud, he was chained to a bed, getting fucked whenever the prince felt like it and I was walking around freely. How could he honestly set himself above me?
But he did. It started the day after he had been brought. He was lying on the bed, chained and exhausted and I was supposed to feed him. He glared at me as if all this was my fault and woke memories of the previous night.
Of my master drawing me into the bedroom. Of Aragorn eyes on me, while my master made love to me. I had long ago learned to enjoy, what my master did to me. I never allowed myself to think about it or refuse the feelings the prince woke in my body. But he had never done so, when another was present. This time I had felt shamed and exposed.
And I had deeply resented the prince for using me this way. For making me a tool in his conquest for the attention of his new slave. But the fact remained that I did not know how to fight and therefore had to endure.
Legolas embrace had soothed me as it always did, but Aragorn's hateful blue eyes made the barely healed wound to my pride hurt anew. He did eat, but it was a torturous process for both of us.
It got worse and worse after that. I was supposed to wash and shave him every other day. It's not that he tried to fight me, but being in his unrelentingly angry presence made my head hurt. His anger seemed to seep through the prince's chambers till it permeated everything.
Then my master decided that his pleasure slave was sufficiently broken now and let him loose in his bedroom during the day. Of course he did not consider all the implications. Like his slave not being able to put on trousers with a chain around his ankle. So Aragorn sat on the bed brooding, pretending to be a good little slave when the prince was home.
Or he put on the tunic the prince had provided and walked around the room with the expression of a predator ready to kill anything that came into reach, whenever my master was not around. He was not broken. No. If anything he got angrier every passing day.
The only thing that changed this was when Legolas passed his line of view. Then his eyes turned sad and his expression longing and he watched the elf as if he was the only thing keeping him alive. Like Legolas was the air he breathed. Like he felt the same for the elf, as I did.
I would have been jealous. But Legolas ignored him almost completely. Sometimes he would look at Aragorn with faint disdain, but that really was all the attention he granted my masters toy.
I was pretty sure there was some kind of history between the two, but neither of them spoke about it – they didn't even speak to each other. And I did not want to ask Legolas. It really was none of my business. If he wanted to tell me he would.
The sounds in the bedroom grew louder, the groans of my master turning into a low shout of orgasm, the moans of Aragorn into a howl of mixed fury and pleasure. Finally they were finished.
I waited a few moment longer, then got up out of the chair
and went into the bedroom, to collect the clothes my master had discarded
on his way from the door to the bed. It was past midnight but that was remarkably
early for him. He could only have had very few ale before he came back to
his own bed. Obviously he truly enjoyed Aragorn.
I picked up my master's tunic and trousers and then went around the bed to
look for his boots, which would need cleaning. The prince was lying on his
back snoring happily, deeply asleep already. But I noticed Aragorn was still
awake and watching me with his piercing blue eyes.
I trembled under his gaze, fear already creeping up on me again. But when he met my eyes, he closed his eyes and turned his head away. Almost... Almost as if in shame. I saw a shiver run over his uncover body.
My master must have just fallen on his back and fallen asleep in the same motion, after he had finished. And his bed-slave had no way of covering himself, his hands chained together and to the headboard, his feet chained to the bedposts, spread too far to ever be comfortable.
For the first time I wondered how he could sleep like this. Putting the clothes down in a neat pile, I soundlessly went over to a cupboard, got an additional blanket and then stepped closer to the bed. Aragorn's eyes were still closed, but they flew open, when I spread the blanket over him.
He stared at me in confusion. A shy smile crept onto my face and I shrugged, feeling stupid again. Many emotions fought for dominance in his eyes but finally something like calm won out. 'Thank you' he mouthed soundlessly. I nodded, picked up the pile of clothes and the boots and left the room, silently closing the door behind me.
When I came back to my own room, another pair of watchful eyes greeted me, this ones brown and much friendlier. We had both been woken up, when the prince came home. I always got up to greet him – as was my duty – but I had told Legolas countless times just to go back to sleep.
He never did. He always waited for me with that friendly little smile he reserved for the moments he was alone with me. He held up our blanket invitingly. I put my shoes next to the door and my tunic on top and then crawled under the blanket next to him. He was so wonderfully warm and smelled of safety. He tugged me into his arms, running long gentle fingers through my tangled hair.
"Sleep, little one." I heard him murmur just before I drifted away. "I will not let anybody harm you."
*****
When I woke early in the next morning I felt oddly content. I silently slipped out of Legolas embrace and went over to the living room, to clean my masters boots. I enjoy work like that. It is undemanding on my attention and thus gives my mind time to wander.
How was it that such a simple gesture of friendliness on my part towards Aragorn made me feel so much better? I carefully removed crusted dirt and grime from the boots and tried to look at my memories of the previous night from different angles. It had hurt me, that Aragorn would reject and despise me so much. But slowly understanding of his feelings had crept up on me and now I could not hate him anymore.
It must be a nightmare for a man like him to be forced into the position he was in. The other servants had told me, that he had been arrested as a rebel. Somebody who fought against the ruling powers of Gondor. To have to submit to the prince - who was called the butcher in the dark alleys - must be the worst that could happen to him.
Of course he was angry. Of course he suffered. Of course he had to despise me, who was an obedient little slave, serving his enemy dutifully without ever considering rebellion in any way.
And then there was Legolas. The more I thought the surer I got, that they had at least been friends once. It must have been a shock to see the elf here, in the chambers of my master.
It made me wonder, what Legolas might have been like, before he had been captured. Had he always been this silent, thoughtful. Or had he been cheerful and lively, before his ordeal at the hands of the princes? There was always a sadness in his eyes, that would not leave. Had it always been there?
More importantly, would if ever go away? Could he ever be happy here, in the confines of this room, in this place he himself called a 'crowded stone heap'? The answer war simple and frightening. No. He could not. I was not sure why he had survived anyway, why he had not faded away like his brethren. I wanted to believe, that it was because of me, but that would have been vain. He probably just was stronger than I could imagine.
But the fact remained, that he could not stay here. he had to return to his home. To trees and space and his kin. I was almost surprised, when I felt a single tear run down my cheek. When had been the last time, that I had cried? A long time ago. I would miss him so much. But he would have to go.
I wiped away the tear, put down the half-cleaned boots and was about to get up, when gentle arms embraced me from behind and a delicate chin came to rest on the top of my head. "Good morning, little one." Legolas soothing voice whispered.
Hoping desperately that he had not noticed my tear, I reached up to caress his hair, hanging down beside my face. How common it had become for us to touch. Softly, gently, never demanding, giving comfort. Maybe there was more than friendship between us, but now I would never be able to allow myself to explore that possibility.
"Good morning, beautiful elf." I answered. He sat down behind me and ran his fingers through my hair. "It's all tangled." he muttered more to himself than me and started to comb it with his fingers. With a sigh I leaned back a bit and let him work on my hair. His movements were gentle and deft and quickly he worked out the tangles and then started to braid it back.
Before he had come, I had cut it regularly, so it would not get in my face when I worked. And I had just been to impatient to take proper care of it, but now Legolas was doing that and I somehow knew he liked it long. So I let it grow.
He was barely finished with his work, when my master emerged from his bedroom, yawning and stretching. "Morning." he mumbled, ignoring the elf as usual. "Get me some breakfast, Eomer, I have a busy day today. Off to Osgiliath again. See if those orcs have learned their lesson."
I dared to wait just a second longer, to Legolas time to tie the braid he had made, then I hurried of to the kitchen. On the way down the long corridors I again considered my disposition towards Aragorn and came to a simple conclusion. I could not stand the tension and atmosphere of barely contained aggression he had brought into my masters chambers. So I would have to try my best to make him more comfortable, to make him less angry.
So this morning I took extra care on the breakfast I picked. Sweets and spiced warm wine for the prince, porridge and tea for me and Legolas and some cold meat, bread, cheese and tea for the captive bedslave. On a second thought I added some sweet rolls for him as well and a bag with provisions for my master. Maybe I could bribe Aragorn with some nice food.
Smiling at my own naivity I carried back the laden tray to my masters chambers. Probably the proud rebel would just eat anything and still snarl at me but it wouldn't hurt to at least try. Maybe I could feed him so much, he got so fat, the prince would allow him more room to exercise or even sell him.
Legolas took the breakfast for the two of us from me the moment I came through the door and frowned at me for juggling so much stuff at once. He directed one of his icy stares at the prince, as if it was his fault, but my master sat at his desk, in his thought already on his way to Osgiliath, pondering over some notes. I sat down his breakfast next to him and he mumbled something that could be interpreted as a 'thank you'.
Then I went over to the bedroom to bring Aragorn his breakfast. My master had already untied him and he sat on the edge of the bed, slightly bowed, running his hands through his hair and rubbing his face. He looked tired, sore and very unhappy. I sat down the tray on the bed and he looked up at me, a mixture of distrust and suppressed sadness on his face.
I really wanted to say something nice, but all I got out was a rather curt "Breakfast." He nodded silently. When his gaze fell on the tray I saw surprise in his eyes, that it was not the usual fare but he didn't say anything just leaned back on the bed with a deep sigh, drawing the tray closer and then starting to eat. At least this time he hadn't growled at me. That might be counted as improvement.
In my room Legolas was already sipping his tea, thoughtfully studying a collection of long knifes and daggers I knew belonged to my master. I had certainly not put them there so he must have collected them. A look over at my master showed me, that he didn't seem to notice. This was really not healthy anymore. He should at least notice, when his slave started to arm himself. What did he think Legolas was going to do with all these blades? Carve cute little wooden toys? But probably he was not thinking about the elf at all.
I sat down next to Legolas and looked at the blades as well. "What are you going to do with them?" I asked, worry clearly in my voice. Legolas shrugged. "It can never hurt to be prepared." he replied somewhat cryptically. "Please do not hurt the prince." I asked him once more. He looked down at his hands, so silent, so threatening in his silence.
Almost as if in slow motion he picked up one of the daggers and ran long slender fingers over it's blade lovingly. "Not today." he agreed. It was a strange conversation, taking place with increasing frequency. It brought back the conclusion I had drawn earlier. Legolas had to leave this place. And the sooner the better. Preferably before he did anything foolish.
I would have to talk to some friends among the servants. Find out some things. There must be a way to smuggle an elf, who would not be missed by his master, out of the palace and out of the city. He would have to find a way home on his own once he was outside Minas Tirith. But I was sure that he was more than capable of taking care of himself.
*****
Night had fallen and I was walking around my masters chamber, extinguishing the candles leaving only two burning in the main room to light the way, should my master come home. I did not really expect him before the next day. Osgiliath was a several hours ride away and he would probably stop in some inn to drink and gamble and whore instead of coming home straight.
So I would go to sleep . If he did come back I was rather sure he would wake all three of us and the people living in the adjoining quarters. The prince of Gondor was not known for his consideration of others needs.
The day had been quiet and surprisingly peaceful. I had spend most of the day mending various pieces of clothing, Legolas had very thoroughly checked all the daggers and knifes in the princes possession and at last picked two long, matching, vicious looking knifes. I remembered, that they had been a gift from the prince's brother. He had brought them home from a visit in some far away southern country. Legolas had used the rest of the afternoon to sharpen them, till they would cut a hair you let fall on them.
There was a gleam in the elf's eye I had not seen before. He delighted in the way the blades lay in his hands. I watched him fight some mock battles against his of shadow in the red light of the sinking sun. There was still the grace I was so accustomed to by now. But it had a lethal quality now. One that made me wish never to anger him, never to draw the hateful gazes, he had for the prince.
Aragorn had watched as well and what I had seen in his eyes had worried me even more. He looked almost scared. As if he didn't recognize this fierce elf either. As if this was not the Legolas he had known, when they had both been free. Had Legolas really changed that much? I hoped and prayed it was not to late to turn him back into whatever person Aragorn had known.
But when I entered our room, the knifes had disappeared and Legolas was sitting on the bed, waiting for me, smiling. Calm and friendly like I knew him. I swallowed the many questions burning on my mind. I had no business asking them.
Legolas opened his mouth to say something, when the door to corridor outside flew open and the prince stumbled into his chambers. One look in his direction showed me three things. He was dirty, he was drunk and he was furious.
"EOMER! Where are ya?!" I hurried to his side. He was barely able to stay on his feet and his eyes were out of focus. "Where de hell have ya been?!" He shouted in my general direction. I didn't bother answer. There was a good chance he wouldn't notice if I did.
He stumbled towards his bedroom, ignoring me, then suddenly stopped in the doorway, tried to turn, swayed wildly and finally caught hold of doorframe. "Eomer...?" There was a strange tone in his voice I had hardly ever heard before. Only after he had beaten me really badly and was trying to apologize. What was going on here?
"Pack up ya stuff." he mumbled as if he was afraid to speak up loud. "I lost ya in a game o' cards. Da orc will come 'n collect ya t'morrow." With that he disappeared into his bedroom, banging the door shut behind him. I stood in the middle of the room as if I had been struck by lightning. This just couldn't be true. This was not happening.
I would probably have stood there till morning and that orc came, had it not been for Legolas. My mind might have been a complete blank but his was moving with it's usual speed and sharpness. "We are leaving." he told me, actually quite gently.
I looked at him, wondering absently how he had managed to get dressed so quickly. 'Leaving?' some part of me wondered, but the rest stayed silent and watched uncomprehending, as Legolas started to collect supplies needed for a journey and pack them efficiently.
When he tossed a warmer tunic at me, I put it on obediently. I was still trying to grasp what the prince had said. He had lost me. In a game of cards. To an orc. That finally somewhat woke me out my stupor. An orc! Of all people an orc. Why did it have to be an orc? Anything else I might have been able to forgive but an orc? That was just outrageous! For the first time I could remember I was truly angry with my master.
I might even have done something about it, had I had the time to think further on it, but Legolas interrupted me. "Eomer, we need to get out of the palace unseen. You know this place well. how do we best go about this?" Slowly it was starting to sink in, what he proposed.
"But we can not leave." I complained feebly. "I can not leave my master." That stopped him dead in his tracks. He stared at me as if I had gone completely nuts and reviewing what I had just said, I had to agree with his assessment. I was really taking my loyalty towards my prince a little far.
But Legolas did not shout or get angry. He just took my hands in his very gently. "Look, Eomer, you would leave him in the morning anyway." He told me like he was trying to convince a little child. "It does not matter, if we leave now or you leave tomorrow." Of course he was right. Still I had to cling to his soothing words to convince myself.
I knew - just knew - that my master needed me. More than he would ever admit. Not because I was taking care of all his daily needs, not because I was probably the only being that treated him with undemanding friendliness, not because I was the only person beside his brother he could truly trust. The reason he really needed me was, that I had managed over all the years to keep him sane. To not allow him to plunge into cruelty and mad slaughter full scale. To give him a safe place to return to. I did not want to think on what he would turn into with me gone.
Tears were threatening to fall. I loved my master. There was no other person in this world who truly knew him as what he could be. Could have been. Gentle, caring, cheerful, protective - to me he was all that. Like there was an invisible prince only I could see.
And still Legolas was right. An orc master would kill me within the span of a few weeks. For once I had to consider my own life before that of my master. And the life of the elf who had for some reason decided to bind his fate to mine.
Slowly I nodded. It took a great effort to put my mind on the matter at hand, but somehow I managed a weak smile. What a strange coincidence that I had just today talked about smuggling my elf-friend out of the palace with a good friend who was working in the stables. He had been taken captive during that campaign against Rohan as well. All of us who had kept a loose friendship.
He had come up with a remarkably simple and useful idea and I had not been able to suppress the idea, that he had used it before. I had not asked him, if he had any connections to the rebels and he had not asked, why I wanted to help the elf. There had just been silent understanding.
"I think I know how to do it." I told Legolas and a brighter smile appeared on his face. Probably not just because there was an actual chance at escape but also because he had managed to wake me from my numbness.
Now that I had somewhat recovered I was able to look through the stuff Legolas had gathered, to see if we had everything we would need. I knew very well, what one would need for a journey. I had packed the stuff of the prince countless times.
When I looked up again, I saw Legolas walk over to the bedroom and my heart missed a beat. "Legolas, no." I hissed and hurried after him, to hold him back. He looked down at me with eyes glimmering in the light of the two candles still burning. "Don't hurt the prince." I begged him.
His features stayed as unmoved as ever but it took a long time till he responded. He breathed very deeply. It must have taken him an incredible effort, but slowly he nodded.
Then his face changed his brows drawing together thoughtfully. "We should take Aragorn with us." he said. "He knows how to fight and how to survive. He could be a great help." A shiver ran down my spine with the thought to set that dangerous a man free. There was so much violence in his tense ways, but Legolas was right again.
He opened the door to the bedroom to show us the view we had both expected: The prince collapsed face down on the bed, even his dirty boots still on. Aragorn lying next to him, wide awake, staring up at the ceiling and then at the two of us when we soundlessly slipped into the room.
I knew the prince was wearing the key to Aragorn's chains on a necklace. How ever drunk he might be, he had managed to chain down his bed slave properly. He was never one to endanger his own life. Except maybe where it came to Legolas.
There was deep confusion in Aragorn's eyes as he watched Legolas and me move over to the prince and turn him over. The prince just grunted and didn't respond, when I opened his tunic to get to the key. He was so used to me undressing him, when he was drunk that he didn't notice, when I opened the chain the key was on and took it from his neck. He just grumbled in his sleep and patted at invisible flies.
I gave the key to Legolas and he looked down at Aragorn thoughtfully. "We are leaving." he told the man without any emotion in his voice. And then he bent down and unlocked his chains. For a very brief moment Aragorn lay completely still, as if he could not really believe he was free at last.
But then he moved incredibly fast, drawing one of the long knifes Legolas had chosen from it's sheath at Legolas' side then rolling over so he came to crouch over my master the knife next to the prince's throat. Everything seemed to freeze in that moment. I wanted to say something, anything to prevent this, but I felt like my mind was wading through thick honey. And Legolas was as motionless as a statue. Had he known this would happen? Had that been why he agreed not to hurt the prince? Why he had set Aragorn free? So he would take his revenge?
A tremble ran through Aragorn's naked body. The knuckles on the hand holding the knife turned white and I was sure he would strike any moment. But then ma master mumbled something in his sleep, the frown eased from his brow and a tender smile appeared on his sleeping face.
Again a shudder ran through Aragorn, but his grip on the knifes relaxed and as suddenly as he had moved to kill the prince he moved off him again. I could see his hand was shaking, when he handed the knife back to Legolas. Then he fled the room, as if pure fear was on his heels.
I glanced at Legolas for any kind of explanation, but his eyes were fixed on the knife and I realized, that his standing next to the sleeping prince with a knife in hand might be too much of a temptation to resist, so I grabbed his arm and forcefully moved him out of the room, closing the door behind me.
Aragorn was in the living room, busy putting on clothes he collected out of the prince's wash basket. They were too wide for his lean frame and a bit to short as well. And dirty of course, but he looked pleased to be able to cover himself after such a long time of forced almost nudity.
He looked as dangerous as I had imagined he would, freed now and moving with the grace and energy of a predator. Again I realized how horrible it must have been for a man so used to moving to be kept immobile for so long. His eyes searched the rooms and lighted up when he spotted the collection of weapons my master kept in his study.
Those where things he had brought back from his conquests. The swords of fallen enemies who had fought well. I knew he was proud of every single one of them and winced slightly, when Aragorn moved over to the wall they were mounted on and obviously tried to determine which one to take along.
But I managed to keep my mouth shut, when he took down a longsword just as lean and balanced as he was himself, and not accuse him of stealing. I was rather sure he would not have taken to that well. Instead I hid behind Legolas, when Aragorn turned to us again and looked at the elf questioningly.
Legolas in turn looked at me and I felt cold fear grip me. I had to be mad to run away with these two wild ones. Under their fiery gazes I felt reduced to utter insignificance. I would just hinder them. And then they would get rid of me and... and...
"Love? How do we get out of here?" Legolas soothing voice penetrated the haze of panic easily and I stared at him in wonder. Had he really just called me 'love'? I would not have trusted me ears but the expression on Aragorn's face left no room for doubt. He looked like Legolas had just pierced his heart with an arrow of ice. If there had been any doubt, that they had once been more than friends it was now gone from my mind. But it didn't matter. Not when Legolas called me 'love' and not him.
I managed a jerky nod, picked up part of the travel gear we had packed and headed for the door. I did not think about what I was doing. Did not think about the fact, that I was leaving the only home I had known for almost ten years behind. Did not think of the prince I abandoned. My mind was fixed on the task of getting us out of Minas Tirith alive and if there is one thing I am good at it is concentrating on work.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Beryll
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