Enemy Of My Enemy

Enemy Of My Enemy

Posted: May 4, 2007
Title: Enemy Of My Enemy
Author: Enide
Type: FCS
Characters: Legolas/Uruk
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Warning: Explicit sex, non-con (but not in the way you’d expect)
Authors Note: There is evil lurking in the heart of us all; even in Legolas’...

Summary: Legolas strikes a bargain with a lost Uruk in Mirkwood…

*****

It was the sound of fighting that drew Legolas’ attention. There were no sounds of metal striking metal, or even the unnerving sound of metal striking into a body, and no shouts or cries. Just an eerie chitin scraping and wheezing, and heavy desperate grunts; both sounds he had hoped he would never hear again, not now that the Ringquest was over and he was temporarily back at Mirkwood. The sounds brought cold chills running down his back as he carefully, soundlessly approached. The first sound was one that could only be recognised by someone whom, like him, had lived almost all his life here, under the heavy boughs of Mirkwood; the sound of one of the large spider that still infested some parts of the wood that had cornered some prey. And the other sound could only be recognised by someone whom had been at Helm’s Deep and survived; the sound of a huge Uruk-hai, fighting for its life.

A fire of vengeance blazed up in the young elf’s heart at the last sound. His father Thranduil had told him about the horrors that had plagued Mirkwood during the Ring Wars; no land east of the mountains had escaped it. Battalions of uruks had marched from Isengard upon the unprepared elves, and though in the end, the wood-skilled elves had destroyed them, but for the many that were killed before they got any warning , that was no relief. Even worse a fate had come upon those that had been taken prisoners alive, and the tales of abuse, rape and inevitably death when their spirits fled their tortured bodies were enough to spark an undying lust for revenge.

Legolas approached the sounds carefully, bow already lifted and arrow nocked. It sounded like a single spider and a lone uruk, but he was not taking any chances. Fire was burning red-hot inside him, but he pushed it down.

When he finally could see the small glade between the boughs and stems of the trees, he went down on his knee, bow still up. From between the foliage of a bush , he could see a strange scene.

The spider was even larger than usual for its kind, but somehow the uruk had managed to get it down on the ground, thus somewhat evening out the odds. But the spider was still unhurt and seemed strong and well fed; its huge body was swelling and it was moving fast. The uruk looked lean, even starved, and through its torn shirt , Legolas could have counted its ribs. It had the desperate look of the last survivor, perhaps of some raiding party that had been wiped out, and it was already bleeding from several small wounds. The spider used its long chitin fore legs like razor sharp swords, but the uruk had only a large dagger, and it was almost impossible for it to come inside the spider ’s guard.

Legolas rose up, unnoticed by the combatants that were circling one another. The arrow was pointed unwaveringly at the uruk ’s neck, but something held him back. The thought of the many dead at Helm’s Deep, the tales of horror his father had told. Vengeance was burning inside him, undeniable. Slowly he lowered the bow. Death was too easy.

The spider had tired of its game; with forelegs raised, it made a sudden spring at the uruk, eager to finish off its prey. With a surprising last boost of energy, the uruk jumped aside and drove the broad-bladed dagger deep into the creature’s body. There came a sound as of boiling kettles from the spider, and then a high metallic sound when the dagger blade snapped in the spider’s death roll.

Swearing and cursing, the uruk came to its feet, still holding the useless weapon. It looked down on the dead spider, hunger obvious in its eyes. But the smell of broken intestines and the very look of the dead creature must have been too much even for it. It kicked the dead spider savagely, and with an other curse , threw the broken dagger into the wood where it disappeared.

“Do not move.” The uruk spun around, only to be met by the sight of a wood-elf coming towards it, a huge war bow raised and aimed at its face. Exhausted and utterly resigned , it sank down on the ground.

“So fucking kill me, then. You don’t think I’ve been trying to get out of this hellish wood? It’s damn impossible.”

Legolas did not answer, just looked at the Uruk while his body was shaking with fury and vengeance. The bow, however, remained steady.

The uruk licked its thin lips a bit nervously at the thorough scrutiny and the far off look in the elf’s eyes. When Legolas finally spoke, the words did not seem directed at the Uruk.

“And before that?”, he asked softly, almost absently. “Where you responsible for the deaths of those whose spirits fled their bodies when the abuse became too much?”

He straightened himself and the present returned to his eyes. The stare he gave the Uruk was hard

as stone.

“I have a proposition for you, Uruk,” he stated.

The Uruk’s ears moved up slightly, but it did not lose its suspicious glare.

“What kind of proposition?” It growled.

“I will tell you the safest passage out of Mirkwood - as safe as can be found here, at least. In return, you give yourself to me, here and now.”

“I’ve fucked your kind before! Lower that bow and I will do it to you!” The Uruk raged.

Legolas smile was bereft of all joy.

“No, Uruk. It is *I* who will do the…fucking. And if you are not a sweet and obedient fuck , I might change my mind again.”

Shocked and confused, the Uruk stared up at the elf, but saw nothing but stone certain determination, and a flare of fire burning in his eyes. It scared it, but it would be damned if it admitted to it.

“So either I die painlessly on your arrow, or I live in servitude?” , it sneered.

“Oh , I would not kill you. You do not deserve an easy death. The slow desperation of starvation is far more fitting, until it kills you, or perhaps until some other spider gets luckier. But you can trust that I will be there and witness your last moments in life, Uruk, whether they are moments of pain or desperation. And about servitude…I believe that is a choice you have made before. Remember this also, if you should try to kill me; you will never find your own way out of this forest, and there are those even worse to stumble upon than I.”

For a few moments , they where still, watching one another. Then the Uruk ’s face turned into a grimace.

“Alright, I will do it! But on your word, you will get me alive out of this damn wood!”

“If you please me.” Legolas ’ smile was cold. “So you better put some effort into it, Uruk.”

Without letting the Uruk go with his eyes, Legolas loosened a small pouch from his belt and threw it over to the Uruk who caught it more on instinct than anything else. Gingerly it opened it, but looked up in surprise.

“Breads and fruits and stuff. What is this?”

“Eat it. You are starved, and I do not want you to be thinking to o hard on elven flesh. That might prove…disastrous.”

Instead of throwing itself into the food, the Uruk ate slowly, savouring every taste and never looking away from the elf. Legolas waited patiently until it was finished.

When the Uruk put away the pouch, Legolas lowered the bow, and put the arrow back in the quiver. Carefully he placed his weapon on the dry ground under a tree before approaching the uruk again.

“Get up. Come over here,” he commanded, and relished in the Uruk’s obedience as the creature went over to him. The Uruk was almost half a head higher and twice as broad as the elf, but there was a nervousness about it.

Halting in front of the elf and not certain of what to do, the Uruk could only look on as strong, long fingered hands started moving over it.

To Legolas, the massive chest and broad shoulders of the Uruk were sparking the embers of lust as he ravished the creature with his hands. Such enormous strength, obedient to his will. The feel of its broad shoulders, heavily muscled arms and wide back was making his heart beat faster. This close, the smell of the creature was overwhelming but not unpleasant; a mixture of musk and sweat.

“Take this off,” he indicated its tattered shirt. “It stinks.”

Obediently, the Uruk started to pull the leather over his head, but he had barely let it fall to the ground before its head was caught in a painful grip and pulled down to meet the upturned face of the elf. Caught in the kiss, it did not dare to pull away even when Legolas ’ tongue pried its mouth open and invaded its mouth, smooth and hot.

The Uruk ’s mouth tasted of the fruit and bread it had eaten before, but it was not so much the physical kiss as it was a symbol for vengeance that thrilled Legolas; his free hand was already moving over the creature’s thigh, making it shiver but unable to withdraw. But this was not enough.

“Touch me,” he whispered hoarsely as he temporarily broke the kiss, but without letting the Uruk’s head free and then bit into its lower lip, hard enough to draw blood.

Trying not to recoil from the pain, the Uruk placed its huge hands on the elf’s back, not certain what to do. The feel of smooth muscles working under it soon made its instincts take over, however. As it caressed up and over the elf’s back and neck, all thought of fight withered. It was still weak from weeks of starvation, and even if it had not been, it was not certain it could have beaten this elf. Though smaller than him, the back under its hands seemed to hold nothing but muscles, strong as steel; the seemingly fragile neck was like a pillar of marble and the softness of the golden hair the only softness that could be found.

Legolas smiled as he felt the Uruk’s body answer to his caresses, and with a hard grip , he grabbed the hardening parts that where starting to pulsate against his hip. The uruk wheezed with surprise and pain, and tried to back away, but the elf’s grip on its head and groin where unrelenting.

“Careful, Uruk. Or you might convince me that you like servitude.” Lust was growing in him too, but it was just the foam crescent on a tidal wave of vengeance.

He pulled the Uruk to him again, enjoying the way the creature strove to please him with hands and tongue as their mouths met again. It was time to take this one step further.

“Take this off of me.” He pointed at his own tunic and turned around, pressing up on the Uruk’s chest with his back.

Like a servant, the Uruk started to unbutton the tunic, pulling it over the elf’s golden head with care not to rip the cloth. A terrifying marvel of white skin was exposed, making the Uruk draw breath in a sharp gasp. As he had expected, there was not a trace of fat under the elf’s skin, from the straight shoulders down to the slim waist. Under the unblemished skin , every muscle seemed visible, and the Uruk hesitated for a second as fear grabbed it.

Sensing the Uruk ’s uncertainty, Legolas pulled his arms over his head, and around its neck, pulling it down. The Uruk responded, licking and kissing over his neck with a tongue that felt as coarse as a cat’s. Tremors of delight ran over his back as the Uruk continued down, almost having to go down on its knees.

That movement was completed as Legolas turned around again and forced the Uruk down in front of him.

“Now,” he breathed, “we will see if you can control your appetite for elven flesh.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” the uruk growled in a futile attempt to hide its fear.

Removing his footwear and leggings, Legolas stood naked in front of the Uruk, witch felt its throat get dry at the sight. Fear of elves was part of its heritage, and to be on its knees before such an enemy, aroused and flushed, was making almost all its nightmares come true. Almost.

Forcing the Uruk to him, Legolas cried out with desire and revenge as he felt its mouth close around him. Heavy hands moved up to cup his buttocks, but with the hard grip on its head, it was Legolas who set the pace. Lust and vengeance were mixing to the almost unbearable sweetness as the Uruk’s thin, hard lips and long coarse tongue worked him hard, eager for release so that the creature could go free. But he would not let it be so easy.

Forcing the Uruk back with such force that it fell down on the grass, Legolas could only pant, too ravaged with feelings:

“Down on the grass. On your belly.”

Fear was now clear in the creature’s eyes, a fear it could no longer hide, but it obeyed, with slow movements.

Squatting down next to it, Legolas caressed its sweat covered back, down over its hard buttocks and muscled thighs. Impatient, he ripped of the Uruk’s ragged trousers. Instinctively the Uruk tried to press its thighs together.

“Don’t do this!” it pleaded desperately, abandoning all pretence. Fear was swirling uncontrollably in it now as it realised that the elf was really about to go through with this.

“Please!”

“Did my people plead so to you? Did you heed them?” Putting all his weight on his knee, Legolas managed to pry the Uruk’s legs apart, and place himself between them. Caressing teasingly over its thighs and buttocks again, he could feel that the Uruk was stiff as wood from fear. Good.

The only sound that could be heard in the small glade was the gritting of heavy molars and the scraping of dirt as the Uruk’s fingers dug into the earth.

With a shout somewhere between a war cry and a sound of delight, Legolas threw himself on the Uruk, pressing into it like a battering ram and forcing it open. Air left the Uruk’s lungs in a sharp gasp of pain, and had it not been for the size difference between them, the savage taking would have torn it apart - much as it itself had done to elves not many weeks before.

Feeling the elf inside it, moving rhythmical and covered with its own saliva, to the Uruk’s distress, was its own body continuing to react on the elf’s touch. Just as hard and throbbing as the elf inside it, it could not help that some of the sounds pressing out between its gritted teeth were not of pain but desire.

Vengeance and arousal were carrying Legolas to heights of sensations he had never experienced before, and his mind and soul were experiencing just as much desire as his body. Grabbing the Uruk by its long, thick hair, he pulled it up on its knees before him, reaching around to take a firm grip on its shaft. Grunting with desperation, the Uruk tried to pull his hand away, but a hard punch to the side of its head made it let go.

Finally the Uruk could take it no more, and with a cry of defeat, it shuddered its release.

“Already, Uruk?” Legolas panted at the exhausted creature. “Down on all four, like the beast you are!”

*And what are you then?* The Uruk did not dare to ask as he was pushed down on his hands and knees, and then filled with warmth as the elf flooded him in the short hard pushes of release.

The Uruk’s bones seemed to turn into water and it fell down on the grass, the elf rolling off of it to the side.

“Valar, but that was fair!” Legolas exclaimed, still dizzy with wonder. “You say nothing, Uruk? You would not reconsider following me back to my father’s halls? If you survived this, you might even survive the vengeance of those whose friends and kin died from your treatment. Think of it, this” - he let a finger slide along the cleft between the Uruk’s buttocks, making it shudder – “every day!”

“You gave me your word!” The Uruk stiffened at the elf’s words. “You swore you would let me out of here!”

“Calm down!” Legolas laughed softly. “I was only joking. I will be true to my word, and better; I will personally lead you safely out of Mirkwood. Do not glare at me like that; I have my vengeance now. I will not touch you again.”

“Had I known that there was so little difference between the servitude of evil and good, I would never had agreed to your proposition, elf.”

This time, it was Legolas who stiffened at the words.

A few weeks later they both stood at the north border of Mirkwood, staring out over the bleak moors. The Uruk was at a much better condition than it had when they first met, and their travel had been uneventful.

“There, Uruk. Not a tree as far as the eye can see, and out of the borders of Mirkwood as I promised. But if you should ever come back, I will consider all debts between us paid, and will not hesitate to kill you. “

The Uruk grunted, but straightened up, staring yellow eyed at the elf that did not shun back.

“I will never serve anyone again, good or evil, but know this; should I ever come back, elf, I would have *you* serve me!”

It started running out over the pale grass, eager to put as many miles as possible between it and Mirkwood.

Legolas waited until it was two hundred steps away, clearly out of the boarders of Mirkwood, and then, with a thoughtful look, he raised the bow of Galadriel and nocked an arrow.

*****

THE END

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