#'you are born' -> 'you put the elf suit' -> 'you catch yourself screaming at adults while wearing the elf suit' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tolkienhorror · 3 years

Text

In Sauron’s Lab: File #5

Another oneshot about one of Sauron’s torture methods.

Warnings: Abuse, torture, non-con, flaying, public humiliation, cannibalism, medical torture.

Please note: This was created on a tumblr prompt given on my main blog. Prompt: Fingon/Sauron, Audience, Crying, Collaring, Public humiliation

************************************************************************************* ************************************************************************************* *************************************************************************************

I asked for a King to replace the one you lost, Lieutenant, and all you bring me is this, Morgoth had told Sauron when the orcs had dragged Findekáno into the throne room of the enemy’s base.

You have a week to break him, the Dark Lord had told his minion, interrupting Sauron’s almost nervous sounding explanations about how very useful the son of the new High King would be in their hands for their cause, black eyes uncaring, greyish skin glowing like the destructive flash of lightning in the shine of the Silmarils wrongly crowning that terrible, hollowed face. You make him kneel for me, or you can go right back to that mountain I pried you and feed another of your bodies to the crows.

Then they’d taken him away, and Findekáno remembered wondering if it would even take him a week at the mercy of someone who’d long given up on all empathy along with his sane mind, only to serve this monster who didn’t even bother caring about him in the presence of a prisoner, before he would wish for death. For a quick end, rather than clinging to the foolish hope that someone would come to find him here.

No one would. No one even knew he was here and they wouldn't for several weeks, not before he was expected home from his journey to Himring to surprise his husband. By the time, they would start to wonder in Hithlum, it would be too late.

Maitimo would probably learn last, and even he would not come. Findekáno had made him promise, made him swear on everything safe for what would have bordered on an oath that neither of them needed another one of. More than that, Maitimo would know, better than anyone, that Findekáno had been lost the moment his escort and he had been overwhelmed with the help of countless black arrows and half a dozen of fiery whips from behind. A year, he had once told Findekáno. If you could hold on to your will to live or your sanity or both for a year of being a prisoner in Angband, you were counted among the lucky ones.

As it turned out, for Findekáno, it was two days before he started to regret that he hadn’t tried to bite through his own wrist arteries in these few minutes that he’d spent alone in a pitch-dark, moldy cell, damned to wait for whatever what was to come. And that was before anyone had even touched him.

Findekáno had no doubt that a lot of them wanted to. Two of the boldest creatures reaching out for him had died already when another of Morgoth's highest ranking Lieutenants had dragged Findekáno from his cell to lead him towards a huge hall at the end of the dungeon wing that had already echoed with the screams of more than one of his people at that point. And dozens orcs more were very clearly waiting for their chance, lurking in the corner of that torture chamber, scarred faces distorted into sneers. The scornful whispers about all that they would love to do to their most precious prisoner given half a chance were only interrupted by the occasional brawl or by the sounds of two or more of those despicable bastards starting one of their perverted, brutal mating rituals, high on watching their master use his songs and evil instruments and cruel skill on yet another elvish prisoner.

But they would not be allowed to approach. And the one person Sauron would not lay hand on, was Findekáno himself. The former maia might long be beyond a sane mind, but if there was one thing he was not, it was stupid. Very well aware of Findekáno's relationship to the prisoner that Findekáno had robbed him of under his very nose not too long ago, not least thanks to everything Sauron had seen in Maitimo's mind in decades of not only physical but also mental torture, Sauron must know that there was very little he could have threatened Findekáno with that he didn't expect. Spending night after night with talking Maitimo through his nightmares and memories had made sure of that. Repeat performances were very obviously not among the maia's twisted preferences. So he chose to confront Findekáno with the only thing he could truly hurt him with: the suffering of his own soldiers. Which would have been bad enough on its own, but it still wasn't the worst.

Findekáno would gladly have borne every pain, every humiliation if he could have saved any of his warriors by that, even if it was only by the blade to their throats. The uncertainty of what would come for exiles like them afterward was better than even an hour under the clawed hands of Morgoth's lapdog. If they'd let him, Findekáno would have taken the place of every single of the elves and she-elves he had to watch scream their lives out and yet not being allowed to die in the first days of his captivity; and that, too, was something Sauron knew, of course. The worst was that being the only choice Findekáno could not make. This was the promise he had given his husband in return. That he would not give in. That he would not trade his soul for a couple of lives that were forfeit anyway, weakening his own mind by letting the cunning spirit of the maia enter it to rip it wide open and put into it whatever Sauron thought suited to bend Findekáno to his will. They could not have him as long as he did not give himself to them, they said, Maitimo said, so he would endure. For he knew, if his mind would no longer be his own, if he would go back to his people in the fashion Morgoth doubtlessly wanted him to, no longer himself but merely a vessel … A vessel like they had had to eliminate so many who had allegedly escaped their thralldom, coming to either his father's or Maitimo's doorstep for assault rather than refuge … Then the first person they would set Findekáno to kill would be his own husband. By refusing to give his enemies this chance, therefore trading the life of the person he loved most for the one of dozens – almost a hundred, in the end – other elves, Findekáno thought, maybe he had actually sold his soul already.

A high-pitched yell, quickly cut off by the choked gurgling of blood blocking the throat it had emerged from, tore him from the useless circle of self-hate that was his mind.

"As I was saying before you so rudely started to disassociate," Sauron sighed in that honey-laced voice of his while throwing the tongue he'd just cut from his victim's mouth in a bowl nearby, "I'm starting to think, that useless husband of yours made the wrong choice, relinquishing his claim to the throne. If all people from your side of your kin are as breakable as your unit, Your Highness, the Noldor might have been better advised living even under those kinslaying, crippled hands of your lover. Or rather, the one you haven't cut off when you were too weak to break a single shackle, that is."

Findekáno still did not give the bastard the satisfaction of an answer. He hadn't addressed the maia a single time since they'd taken him and very carefully avoided even regarding that black-clad, delicate shape with more than a fleeting glance from the corner of his eyes. It was better, not staring into those flaming eyes for too long, Maitimo had used to tell him, for you never knew what might stare back at – into – you. Besides, he was too busy, trying not to throw up when his torturer yanked the head of that elf who was firmly chained to a narrow wooden table, to the side by his red-matted blond hair, catching the streams of blood from the victim's mouth in that same bowl before handing it to one of the orcs without even looking twice, leaving the delightedly screeching creatures to fight over their breakfast. Once more, Findekáno wished he could have told the elf – his captain – that it would be over soon, at least, but judging by the last three scenes of this kind he'd already had to watch, chained to a chair of metal himself in a way that left no inch of a room to try and free himself, that would have been a blatant lie.

Sauron hated being distracted by too much talk when he was working but he very much enjoyed hearing his victims scream, that was all. So this was always how he started. "Let's see if we can get a little more fight out of this one, shall we? It would be a shame if you had to do without the leader of your escort once you'll promise yourself to the Lord of this world."

The Never was on the tip of Findekáno's tongue, but it never came, and maybe not only because he refused to acknowledge the numbing poison that was Sauron's words with anything but a blank stare. It was hard, holding on to resistance when you had to watch your enemy reach for a diamond-sharp knife and put a first clean, deep cut to his newest victim's body, right around the wrist, in front of the broad shackle holding the captain's arm in place, and then start to peel off the first layers of skin inch by inch, finger by finger, more patches of flesh and skin carelessly thrown towards the drooling audience. It was a mercy, one that Findekáno shouldn't be half as thankful for as he was, that the elf's voice was soon too sore from screaming to produce more than a hoarse noises, hardly even able to drown out the mirthful whistling on Sauron's lips that was a most basic healing spell to keep blood loss and infections at bay. And it was an irony that wasn't lost to Findekáno, that he'd spent almost two years, trying to convince his husband that he had no reason to hate himself for what he'd seen and been forced to do during his own captivity, and that he could feel the same blackness of loathing wash over his own soul now; thick acid trying to bury every memory of light and love and friendship especially to these people he had to see suffer right in front of his eyes, maybe never to be revived. It was far easier to believe in innocence when you weren't the one watching silently. That heaviness of shock and any missing rest for days, that had started to take hold of his soul, was spreading, creeping over his skin in droves and leaving it numb, so that he did not realize, there were tears rolling down his cheeks, until Sauron was suddenly standing right in front of his chair and grabbed his cheek to slowly lick the salt off his face with his forked tongue, laying hands on him for the first time. The nausea grew instantly, a gagging sitting in the back of Findekáno's throat that he didn't want to let his enemy hear either, so he just jerked his head away and bit his tongue bloody to keep silent.

"You taste sweeter than your lover, little Princeling," Sauron murmured huskily, blood-covered, spidery hands brushing through Findekáno's messy hair. "You might want to rethink your priorities. You could have a life so much better by my side than being the useless son of a lesser King. The only thing you're doing right now is hurting everyone in this room." Findekáno's ongoing silence seemed to be loud enough, because he backed away with a shrug. Ridiculously gentle for what he'd been doing to every of Findekáno's soldiers for a few days now, he tugged two of the golden ribbons from his braids and went back to his current victim. After handing his minions another bowl full of red to slurp that had been filled by that skinned hand of a barely conscious elf in the last few minutes, he wrapped the ribbon around the mess of twitching, bared muscle and pressed the captain's wrist down against the table with his elbow while reaching for a long nail and a hammer. "Now, now." An admonishing noise came from Sauron's cherry-red lips when Findekáno turned his head away, unable to stand the sight of that nail being pressed right in the middle of that ruined palm, with only the fabric of the ribbon between, the sight of a usually so proud, brave warrior arching up against his chains in fear. "Is that a way to honor your people's sacrifice for you, Your Highness? You won't even look at them while they're suffering for you?"

A sob that he could no longer hold back came from Findekáno's lips but could never make it past the echo of the new, broken scream from one of his oldest friends when the hammer drove the nail through his flesh in a single strike.

It didn't last long, because the elf had finally blacked out which didn't stop Sauron from repeating the same cruel process on the other arm so that his victim came to even more inhuman pain. With the second nail in place, the chains were no longer necessary to hold that marred, infection-weakened, writhing body in place as Morgoth's butcher reached for his knife once more. "Did you know, my precious Prince," he said calmly while he put the blood-smeared tip to the elf's left side, right under the ribcage, "there's at least four organs a Firstborn body can survive without? And a dozen others of which you can take at least half away before you need to sing the rest back together to function? You should know. I've fed a couple of your husband's parts to my wolves. I think they might get some more elvish dinner tonight." The knife started to cut. With a disgusting, meaty sound, a mess of red and yellow was dropped in a bucket below the table.

But this time, it wasn't the captain's scream that filled the room the loudest but a sound Findekáno hadn't known he was about to make before it came, his resolve shattered into pieces.

"What was that?" Now it was Sauron, not even looking up but reaching for needle and thread instead to close the crude cut he'd just made before his victim could bleed out on him. "Anything you want, my precious Princeling? All you have to do is ask, you know."

"Please." This time, the word came quietly, but clear and unmistakable. Apparently, after all this time that Findekáno had thought he would be the rock in their relationship, had to be, because Maitimo didn't have the strength anymore, it was time to admit, that his husband had been the stronger one between them from the start. Perhaps, when it came to it, if Findekáno would only ever leave this fortress again an enemy of his own people, no longer the master of his own mind and thoughts and will, his husband would even be strong enough to kill him before Findekáno could beat him to it. "Stop. If it is me you want, release my people."

"Is that an order, Your Highness?" Wholly unimpressed, Sauron moved to his victim's other side and caressed the quickly, panicked heaving chest with just the tip of his knife, as if trying to make out the best spot to continue his gruesome work. "I do not need more food for my troops and beasts. I need a servant loyal to me and my master. Is that what you want, Prince of the Noldor? To serve the Dark Lord?"

"Yes." It became easier, Findekáno found dully, once you had given in to your fate. He did not even shy away from that triumphing, flickering stare of his enemy any longer. Maybe it would hurt less if he let himself fall for it quickly.

"Yes, what?" His hand wandering lower, Sauron thrust his knife deeply into his victim's loins, spearing a kidney, impatiently wiping blood of his cheek, both from the new horrible wound and from the captain's mangled hand, from its useless, mindless attempt of freeing itself from the nail crucifying it.

"Yes. Master." Findekáno never lowered his head. There was no use, trying to look away now.

"Better. We're getting there." Sauron just left his tool right where it was, impaling his victim's body in a third place, and went to the back of a room to open a silver box with the symbol of his eye on it that had been waiting there from the first hour on. A flash of gold and obsidian shone in the bright candle light as he slowly approached Findekáno, dangling from a lazy finger a broad collar with sharply carved tips at the top and the bottom. In the hand of a fire maia, the horrible adornment quickly started to heat, a dangerous orange glow matching the hair of Findekáno's torturer, pulsating right in front of his eyes when Sauron stopped by his chair and grabbed his chin, forcing him to surrender to that black stare again. "Ask for it, my sweet little pet, then I might think about allowing your incompetent captain over there to die."

The last of tears dried on Findekáno's skin as he left a part of him behind that he knew would not return, no matter how his life would look from now on and for how long. I'm sorry, Russo. "Please, Master, put your collar on me. Let me serve you."

"So easy." With a lazy snap of fingers, the chains holding Findekáno clicked open, allowing his knees to give out under him all by themselves when an ice-cold hand was wrapped around his braids, shoving him off the chair.

He thought, he could fight, for a moment. But he'd also thought that when they had first brought him into this room, and the rest of that day, he'd spent watching fifty orcs raping one of his best friends to death, so that spark died down as quickly as it had come. It had been too late to fight the moment he'd let himself be foolishly raided from behind instead of securing the area well enough.

"Your father should thank me that I'm taking the weakling that calls himself his firstborn from him," his enemy chuckled, a clear hint of arousal mixing into the purr of triumph in his voice as Findekáno winced and gasped for air, in vain, as the collar was closed around his neck. Melted into one by a single hummed tone, the heated metal was scorching his skin, the first exhausted attempts of breathing, of swallowing leaving marks and cuts on him. "This does look a lot prettier on you though than on your lover, my new favorite pet. Why don't you show me how you like to please him?" Under the approving cheers and leering of the orcs, laces were opened without haste. Thick, crooked hardness brushed Findekáno's tight lips, with ridges and barbs adorning the misshaped appendix that he knew he would soon feel somewhere entirely else and be forced to pretend and love it. If nothing else, at least Sauron was predictable.

But Findekáno didn't move, not yet, ignoring that hand in his braids that was grabbing him harsher by the second. His eyes wandered to the table in the middle of the room that was dripping blood on the ground in a slowly growing pool.

The sounds of searing agony from there still hadn't fallen silent.

Sharp fingernails scratched over his cheek, prying his mouth open with ease, the first brutal bump of hardened flesh against the back of his throat cutting off any protest before it could come. "If you worry about him so much, I suggest, you hurry to please your master, pet. It's only up to you how much more your people will have to take before I let them go."

It was another lie, of course, but one, Findekáno thought, he could live with. None of his soldiers would leave this fortress alive. If he could keep Sauron's filthy paws off of them for the rest of what was their ruined life, he would, at least, have done something right in the mess that his life had become. Findekáno had given up.

#Sauron #fingon #sauron's lab #fanfiction #DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

4 notes · View notes

kotas-dump · 6 years

Text

Something different. Part 1

“Do you really think he wants...me?” You look down, thick thighs touching underneath your smooth layered gown. Soft round curves staring you back in the mirror the maid had placed in front of you. Your face was soft, not sharp nor elegant like elves were supposed to have. Even your ears were to long to be ‘elegant’.

“Oh hush! You’re finally getting married dear! AND TO A PRINCE! Let’s be happy~! ” You mother coos from the doorway. The maids don’t even look up as the continue to braid your white hair. It was one of the rare genetic quirks of your people. The ultimate symbol of purity of soul. Usually highly coveted it was a guaranteed rise of class if a child was born with it. Peasants married into nobility, nobles became princesses. As was.. your case.

“We were starting to worry no one would as- ow!” A sharp elbow in his side shut your father up easily.

Sitting in silence you gave up, let them win.

Your mother comes over to rest her slender hands on your shoulders.”Don’t worry so much. We hired the best company of orcs to escort you safely there. You’ll be safe, happy and giving us beautiful grand babies to spoil soon enough.” Coming to stand in front of you the maid moves away, braid still in one hand.

She grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up. “You’re finally going to be happy. Not shut in here every day and night, hiding from the world.” Her thumb whips a tear from your plump cheek and you sigh. “Promise you will write us?”

“I promise mother.” Forcing a smile for her you watch her face light up and she hugs you tight.

“Oh i’ll miss you my sweet little bread-roll. Finally getting MARRIED~!” pulling away she pinches your cheeks and gives you a kiss on the forehead. “We’ll see you off. I think the maids are getting mad at me hindering their beautiful work.”

You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. To be honest you were looking forward to it too. Your parents might have butt heads a little bit but their relationship was beautiful and it was arranged too. You could make it work.”

Looking up you stared your own icy grey-gaze reflection down and nodded, smiling wide.

“There you are. As beautiful as the first real snow.” Your maid smiled, going back to work and chuckling. “You’re excited arn’t you?”

“Nervous. I’m not like my sisters. I’m not all sharp angles and pretty... They married so quickly. Two of them already have little ones.” You look over to her but she turns your head back around.

“You’re beautiful. If he doesn’t see that you just write me and i’ll make sure his chefs serve him dieal root and give him the shits for a week.” You both burst into laughter.

The last good laugh you’d have for a long time.

Your parents saw you of like they’d said. Your father helping you into your carriage before handing you a small cloth-wrapped package. “Snacks. I don’t trust these orcs to make you good elven food”

“Father!” You hissed. A nearby orc scoffed and crossed her arms. “I’ll be okay. I have my magic if I need to use it.”

He grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it. “I love you. Travel safe my dearest daughter.”

“I will father. Thank you.” Smiling you sat down and he closed the door.

They stood by the gates and waved until you could no longer see them on the horizon. With that? Your journey to your fiance’s land was officially underway.

The first handful days were uneventful. You stayed in the carriage until camp was made and then in your tent.

It wasn’t until a week in that you hit a fallen tree and an overturned cart that you stopped. The orcs outside were debating, damn near shouting over what to do. Popping the door open you peeked out, wincing at the light.

“The red road is a thieves paradise. It’s CALLED the RED road for a reason. You can’t be seriously considering it Vargan?!” The pink-skinned goblin snarled.

“I agree with Tuk. The tree could take days to clear. We might as well head back and help the cart owner clear the road. Would set us a day behind but it’s safer.” The female orc exclaimed.

“Hmm.” Vargan’s green eyes glanced to you and you yelped, closing the door.

You tucked yourself into the far corner of the carriage as heavy steps approached. The door didn’t open.. instead it locked. “We take the Red road. Get in close and we protect the cargo at all costs.”

A sigh left you as your carriage lurched forward.

Their normal upbeat banter died into silence as they got moving. The tense air outside put you on edge and you clutched your small bag of carry-on snacks and journals close.

It seemed all was going well though. Hours passed and you could tell the tension outside was starting to lift.

That was when they attacked. Human’s in hoards stormed the road and fighting ensued. It seemed to drag on forever as you hid in the carriage. A body slammed into the side, staining the window with a spattering of red as they thumped to the ground.

Suddenly the door flung open and a green and red arm reached in, yanking you by the arm out of the carriage. Your bag’s contents clattered to the floor of the cart but you managed to grab your journal as he pulled you from the cart. Turning forward you recognized the orc as Vargan, the leader of the company.

There were bodies everywhere outside, orc and human alike, but he was pulling you toward the treeline roughly where Tuk crouched, looking around. The female orc stopped the humans from following and you three escaped into the trees.

They broke out into a run, the orc growling at your slow pace before yanking you toward him and over his shoulder.

“LET ME DOWN!” You screamed, your ass high in the air as he ran, the air forced out of your lungs by his shoulder with each leaping bound.

“ If I do you will die. Shut up.” Vargan snapped. “Where we going Tuk?”

“I know of a place not to far. Keep up.” Tuk glanced back, eyeing your ass for a moment to long. Vargan let a low growl out and the pace picked up.

---

That night you made camp deep in a cave. Tuk had given you his spare bedroll but you hesitated to actually use the thing. Instead you sat against the wall. The light peach gown you’d been dressed in this morning now stained and dirty.

“For you your highness.” Tuk smiled, his pointed teeth flashing in the dim light as he held out a skewer of rat.

Swallowing thickly you took it with a shaking hand and nodded. “I’m not a princess.” You set the skewer aside and sigh.

“Ah but you will be right?” The goblin laughed and scuttled back over to the fire, casting dreamy looks over to you.

Vargan scoffed, earning himself a glare from the scared up goblin.

“What?” Tuk snapped.

“Her people don’t eat meat. Idiot. That’s the forest elves. She’s from the ice mountains.” Snorting he stood, walking over to you and grabbing the skewer you placed down and replacing it with a chunk of dry bread. “We’ll get you real food at the next village. Eat.”

Glaring at his back you huff and take a bite of the dry bread. If you weren’t hungry you wouldn’t eat another bite but you were starving. Tearing into it like they tore into their food.

As they readied to sleep the female orc from before barged in. Drenched in blood she plopped down next to Tuk and smacked his hand when he went to examine the slice on her arm.

“You should get some rest.. all of you. I’ll tend to her.”Tuk said. “I am a healer after all.”

Vargan nodded. “Don’t fall asleep this time. “

Gasping Tuk clapped a hand over his chest. “Why I’d never!”

You laid down on the slightly smelly bed-roll and rolled over, your back to the others.

You didn’t get much rest that night.

The next Morning the female orc threw her uninjured arm around you and smiled. “I’m kidnapping her for an hour or two.”

“Need someone to keep watch?” Tuk answered, the grin on his face leaving you uneasy.

“I got two eyes i’ll be fine... if I catch you following i’ll drown you myself.” She snapped.

“D-drown?” you mutter, confused.

Steering you away she sighs, stretching her sore muscles. “You’re still quiet.”

Looking up you shrug. “Is there something you wanted to hear?”

Her brow furrows in confusion, “I wanted...?” Laughing she shakes her head. “You’re an odd one.”

“It’s because of the spirit of Oldirian.” You reply simply. The subtle sound of water reaching your ears.

“Spirit of old ruin?” She completely butchers the word and you cringe.

“Oldirian. A spirit of purity and compassion.”

Nodding she shrugs. “Sounds like elven mumbo-jumbo. Elves and their special-ness.”

Looking down you laugh and she joins in, patting your shoulder before marching ahead toward the small river.

She doesn’t even bother to strip. Just crashes into the water with a cheering laugh and motions for you to follow.

Stepping closer you frown.

“What? Don’t you bathe in elf-land?” She snorts, running her hands over her blood soaked clothing. The water down stream turning red.

Taking off your over dress you stay in her chemise, lifting your skirt you dip a toe into the cold water.

It felt nice and refreshing after a night in that smokey cave. Wading into the water you joined her but upstream and away from the blood.

“Here. I’ll wash your hair.” She pulls a bar of soap from her soaked pockets and runs it over you hair, rubbing it in and through your hair. “I can see why your mother hired so many of us.”

“Hm?” You turn to watch her as she pours water over your hair, rinsing it.

“You’re beautiful! I mean look at this!” She holds your hair in her hands. “Straight and whiter than snow, than clouds or cream.. I’m jealous.”

“You want it?” You laugh.

Her face lights up and she holds a length of hair next to her face. “Does it suit me?”

Laughing you nod. “You would surely have many suitors! You would get to pick for sure.”

Her smile wilts at your words and she sighs. “You elves.”

“W-what?” She releases your hair and you take int into your hand, looking at it.

Shrugging the orc dips her head back and runs the soap through her hair. “We marry based on love. If it comes with status then great! But to us-” She ducks below the water, rinsing her hair before poping back up and fliping her hair back. “You’re the barbarians.”

---

'You’re the barbarians.' Those words had been haunting you since that morning. You didn’t understand.

“Hey Tuk?” You glanced over to him, he’d taken up your side, the two orcs guarding the front and back.

“Yes your highness?” His voice was full of cheer, raw admiration. He looked up, his face slowly shifting to confusion as you remained quiet. “Your highness?”

Shaking your head you waved it off. “Never mind. A foolish question.”

He smiled wide. “No such thing princess.”

“There are when you’re involved.” Vargan barks a laugh from the front.

“Oh that hurts Vargan. You know i’m a sensative soul!” Tuk cries, running forward the punch the orc on the arm.

“Stay in formation.” Vargan snaps, sending the goblin running back to you.

“I like her better anyways.” He sticks a pink tongue at the leader and huffs.

Smiling you watch their antics, listen to their playful banter and stories. They’d been in a company together for years. Vargan being the great-grandson of the chieftain that lead the forces against their brotherin when the orc rebellion broke out. Their family had stayed loyal to the elves ever since. Now him, and his company, were esteemed guards.

Tuk was a goblin who had been taught by an elven healer how to use his magic to heal after being wounded and left for dead by the orcs who’d enslaved them. He’d stayed with your family and then later Vargan ever since.

The female orc, Kiada, had been the original leader of the company. Eventually handing it over to Vargan. She wasn’t really that open about it so sadly that was all you really knew about her besides the fact she could fight a small army and survive.

In other words, despite them only being three strong, you didn’t feel scared or un-safe in the slightest.

---

That night you rest up in a tavern. Vargan is sharing the room with you, his bed across from yours. He kicks off his boots and catches you staring at him. “What is it? Still hungry?”

Shaking your head you blush. “My head was in the clouds sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

“You do it a lot.” His gruff voice sounds angry but from being around him this short time you know it’s just how his voice is.

“Sorry.” You laugh. “I’ve never really seen orcs or goblins up close before.”

His green eyes look up and his head tilts to the side. “You haven’t?”

“No.. I’m a noble type of hermit.” You explain, picking at a frayed hem on your sleeve.

“ Is it ‘cause your fat for an elf?” He asks, not a lick of tact or manners in his words.

Scoffing you yank the blankets back and slide under them. Your back facing him.

A deep laugh rumbles from the other side of the room. “That’s a yes.” He reaches up in a stretch, bones creaking in protest as and lays back on the small bed. “I wouldn’t worry to much. Even if you’re fatter than most elves you’re twice as beautiful.” Yawning he blows the candle out and tucks in for the night.

“You know nothing about Elf culture.” You snap angrily in the dark.

“I know enough.” He grunts, the bed creaking as he rolls to face you. “You believe you’re the superior race with your magic and beauty. Arranged marriages giving you pure-blooded offspring. You breed like dogs for power and beauty to keep the other races suppressed.”

Rolling over you glare at him in the moon-lit darkness. “We don’t believe we’re better than any other race. You really have no manners!”

“Perhaps. But we orcs don’t speak in riddles or hide our meaning. We don’t beat others into submission or sell our daughters for status and dowries.” He claps back.

Scoffing you roll your eyes. “And that makes you better than us?”

His uproarious laughter causes you to jump. “There you go! You don’t even see you’re own hippocricy.”

Huffing you roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling.” There’s no use trying to talk to a wall.”

“Whatever you say princess.” He chuckles.

---

The next day you’re quiet. Lips all but sewn shut even when Tuk tries to lighten the mood by telling you jokes.

“What gives. Not even a smile? That one slays!” Tuk whines.

“She’s just mad at me. Leave her be Tuk.” Vargan glares at the goblin and frowns.

“No one could be mad at such a barbaric CREATURE.” You snap, rolling your eyes.

Kiada tries to hide a laugh and ends up in snorting laughter. “What did you do Vargan? Spit in her porridge?

“That’s not funny! He did that to me once. Tasted slimy...” Tuk shivers.

“Augh!” You stomp forward, past Vargan and almost in front of him before he grabs your arm. “Unhand me.” You command, glaring him down.

The whole company comes to a stop as you two face off in a silent stare contest. Eventually Vargan leans in, getting right into your face. “Get. Back. In. Formation.”

Tearing away you scoff and go back to your place, crossing your arms and blinking back stubborn tears.

A tense silence falls over the group as they look at you.

“No wonder she’s mad at you Varg. You’re to rough with the lady.” Tuk finally breaks the silence. Pushing your sleeve up and muttering a small spell to rid your pale skin of the bruises that were bound to form.

“We all know our place. Best she knows hers.” Vargan growls.

Kiada shakes her head and sighs.

“I’m not apologizing for keeping her safe! If she wants to act like a child and throw a temper tantrum then she can do it from the safety of the middle of the-” A whizzing sound is heard and Varg turns toward it only to have an arrow plunge deep into his chest.

Gasping you go wide eyed as he breaks the shaft with a grunt. The three of them close in tight around you and the people hiding in the trees attack.

The orcs stand firm, weapons drawn at the ready as Tuk begins muttering a spell and lightening crackles along his hands.

Chaos breaks out in an instant and the sound of fighting starts with a boom as Tuk fires off a crack of lightening.

Clapping your hands over your ears you screw your eyes shut. What do you do? There’s to many of them.. a knock back would send them away from you too. What was the spell you needed?! Panicking you start muttering a spell of your own. There were to many for just the three of them.. you had to do something. You couldn’t let them die like the others.

Tuk blocks a sword from striking you and shoves them back. “Protect the princess!”

“You don’t have to tell us that you piece of stupid pork!” Kiada shouts, her axe coming down on a human’s shoulder and cleaving the meat from the bone. A human behind her strikes in the short time it takes her to yank the heavy axe free. A dagger sinks into her side and she spins, slamming the flat side of the axe into their head and sending them sprawling toward Vargan where he brings his sword down and pierces their skull.

“No! I mean she’s casting a spe-” Tuk’s voice was cut off as the spell you’d been weaving shimmers into life.

The orcs stop as a beam of white glittering light shoots up. There’s a pause as the light fades and Vargan scoffs. “What? That’s it?”

“PROTECT HER!” Tuk shouts grabbing Vargan and Kiada. Varg holds his shield out to the confused humans. Tuk smacks him and pushes the shield up so it’s protecting them from the clear blue sky.

A volley of ice-spears come crashing from the sky, spearing the attackers where they stand. The ice crashes into his shield, again and again. The assault only lasting five seconds but it was long enough to kill the humans caught out in the open.

Tuk grabs hold of you as your legs give out, easing you onto the ground. “Princess? Stay with us!”

The world lurches and slowly darkness creeps in and claims you.

---

When you woke you woke with a jolt and a gasp. There had been blood everywhere! Bodies riddling the road. Putting your head in your hands you rub your face and look around.

Kiada laid beside you, asleep. Tuk sat in front of Vargan, the two of them arguing over the arrow in his chest.

“You’re awake.” Varg pointed to you with his chin and Tuk turned, ripping the arrow out.

A roar split into the night as Vargan glared at the goblin. Tuk only offering a sheepish smile as a dull white glow encompassed his hand.

Kiada groaned, turning over.

Standing up you stumbled and moved toward the fire. Your body drenched in a cold sweat. The memories your dream knitted together haunting you still.

“I’m surprised you cast that spell so quickly! The blessing of Oldirian really is something else.” Tuk praises, looking up for a moment to shoot you a smile.

“Oldirian?” Vargan grunts, his hand clamping over the goblins.

“I’m almost done you big baby. Kiada didn’t complain this much and she had a dagger in the gut!”

“Yeah yeah. Just hurry it up.” Varg snorts. His green eyes settle back on you, warming your hands by the fire. “I didn’t know you knew battle magic.”

Glancing up you saw his shirt and armor was off, his bare chest exposed. Surprisingly he didn’t have many scars at all. No thanks to Tuk’s magic you bet. Scoffing you looked back to the fire. “The better to oppress you with?”

Tuk snorted, laughing until the orc leader clocked him over the head.

“Ouch! Hey you were asking for that one!” Tuk pulled his hand away, grabbing some bandages and started wrapping up the much smaller wound.

“Why don’t you just heal him completely?” You ask walking up to them. You can feel Varg staring at you but you ignore him.

Tuk looks up, a star-struck look in his eyes. “U-uh well. Us g-goblins don’t have quite the magic prowess that you elves do.. besides it’s good that the body remembers how to heal itself.”

Pulling Tuk’s hand away you lean in, blowing gently on the puncture. Placing your palm over it you whisper a small incantation and a strong shimmering white light engulfs your hand. Pulling your hand away you shake your head at the hand print of light left behind. “You can remember how to heal later. Did you say Kiada was hurt too?”

Tuk nods, speechless. He watches you as you kneel next to Kiada, hand on her side. “She’s amazing...”

Varg scoffs, rubbing his chest where the wound had been. “Elves.”

The goblin glances to the leader as Varg pulls a tunic over his head and curiously stretches. The soreness of his body from the travels gone too.

Tuk smiles knowingly and Varg shoves him back where he gladly runs up to you and pulls you back toward the fire. “Here.”

Holding out a stick with a skewered eggplant on it you slowly take it. Forcing back your laughter you bite your lip. “Thank you.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you could use battle magic?” Varg scoffed, plopping down beside you. His big body inches away.

What could you say that wouldn’t feed into his ‘elves are holier than thou’ image he had of you? A moment of silence passed and you shrugged, biting into the eggplant. The taste was bland but for once... you weren’t hungry.

“You could have saved my men when they attacked the first time.”The orc pressed.

Oh.That’s what he meant. “Watch your tone please.”

“Hey hey! Why don’t we just-” Tuk tried to diffuse the situation.

“Tone? My TONE bothers you but the half-dozen men I lost doesn’t?” His voice is raised, anger seeping into it.

Sighing you hand Tuk the roasted vegetable. “Honestly Vargan.”

“ ‘Honestly Vargan’“ He mimics, voice raised painfully high. “ ‘You expect me to waste my time on a few orc lives I hired to die for me?’ “

You look down taking a deep breath and keeping your emotions in check. “You made up your mind about the person I am. The only thing I can do in your mind is confirm it.”

“BULL SHIT! Their lives are worth more than just a few scraps of a rare metal!” He’s roaring now.

Tuk reaches up, trying to pull Varg away. “Let’s all calm down. It’s not anyone’s fau-”

“SHE HAD A WAY TO SAVE THEM AND DIDN’T EVEN TELL US!” Varg screams.

Kiada turns, sitting up groggily and trying to figure out what the screaming was about.

Your heart is racing, fear freezing you in place like it had back then. If you panicked your magic could kill people indiscriminately. The last attack was proof of that. If it hadn’t been for Tuk you all could have died... but saying that wouldn’t help. Vargan would only point out how that meant even they were ‘expendable’.

His green eyes bore down on you. There was pain there. Hidden by anger. You look away. “What do you want to hear? That i’m sorry? I didn’t kill your men Vargan.”

“You didn’t save them either!” Varg snaps back.

“Giliandras!” You curse. He was impossible!

“Fuck you too you damn knife ear!” Varg spits, barely missing your foot.

Your jaw drops and you stand, hands clenched into fists. A white light shimmering over them. No. You had to stay calm. They were you escorts. Not your enemies.

“Awe does the elfie wanna fight?” The orc leader teases.

“Varg..” Kiada warns, grabbing him by the back of his tunic.

Tuk glances back and forth between you two and shifts uncomfortably.

“Nah she should prove she’s better than me!” Vargan growls. “Obviously she thinks she is.”

Your jaw works. “I accept.” You growl through gritted teeth.

Tuk’s jaw drops. “Y-you WHAT?”

“I accept your request for a duel. Winnings are bragging rights. I’ll even throw in an extra 100 gold for each of you if you win.” Crossing your arms you raise a brow.

“Think about this Varg. She’s an elf. It’s magic.” Kiada warns, stepping away from the two.

“ Bout time someone put you in your damn place.” The orc grumbles, cracking his knuckles.

Standing up you both venture away from the fire to the other side of the clearing.

“Twenty silver on the princess.” Tuk says, nudging Kiada.

“You’re on goblin.” Kiada laughs. “Varg’s got this.”

“Whenever you’re ready then.” Holding your head up you mutter a small barrier spell under your breath.

His charge is loud as he runs...rather fast for an orc. Crossing your arms you wait for him to slam into the shield. Sure enough he does. The magic kicking into effect and lighting up the clearing in that familiar shimmering white light.

“What’s the matter?” You tease, watching him scramble to his feet and look over the light in anger.

Backing up he bashes into it again with his shield. The light sparking back to life.

“Was that your strategy? Just keep hitting it?” You ask as he slams into the barrier again. Sighing you sit down and begin your next spell. Letting him continue to bash against the barrier, eventually bringing it down as the light slowly twinkles back to the ground.

“YES! THAT’S IT VARG!” Kiada cheers. “I knew he could do it!”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Tuk breathes.

Sure enough as Varg stalks forward he slams into another barrier. “IS THAT ALL YOU CAN FUCKING DO? Damn barriers?” He roars. “FIGHT ME!”

With a heavy sigh you stand up. “Okay but remember that you asked for this.” Raising your hand you dispersed the barrier in front of him and he charged toward you, sword raised.

Bringing your hand down the light from before surged up from the grass, trapping him in a beam of light with his sword raised to strike you down.

Smiling you waved your hand to the side, readying the spear of ice spell from before. You just had to graze -

“NULLIFY!” Varg screamed. The beam of light that trapped him flickered out of existence and your eyes went wide as his sword came down. You screamed, staggering back and falling.

“HOW THE FUCK DID YOU LEARN TO NULLIFY MAGIC?!” You scream, running from him.

“STAND STILL!” He roars back.

Screaming you panic. Unable to recall any spells at the moment to help you. You continue to run until your panting and his breathing is far to close for comfort. Screaming again you turn to face him, eyes shut against the magic blast. “GET AWAY FROM ME!”

The blast sends him rolling head over heel backwards and the two watching leap out of the way.

“URGGGG!” Varg jumps to his feet, storming back toward you as you try to catch your breath. “THAT'S ALL YOU GOT?”

Sighing you shake your head. “Can’t you just....stop?” You curse and raise your hand, firing the spell upward before you start running. You needed to get him to stay in one place for it to work.. Suddenly you’re tackled. Sent sprawling into the dirt where he ditches his shield to clap a hand over you mouth.

Well..that kinda worked.

“I win. Now say it. Say i’m better than you!” He leans back, taking his hand from your mouth as he glares down at your triumphantly.

Kiada nudges Tuk and smirks. “Pay up.”

Tuk fidgets, brows furrowed and lips turned into a frown as his eyes scan the night sky.

“Come on Tuk! Now’s not the time to admire some stars. You owe me 20 silver!” Kiada scoffs.

A single spear of ice comes crashing down from the sky. Piercing Vargan in the calf and pulling a deafening roar from his lips. The orc turns, looking at the thin spear and then back to you. He wasn’t the only one caught in the attack. The ice pierced your thigh too.

You meet his glare with your own pained gaze. The sound of Tuk and Kiada’s footsteps filling the silence.

Looking away you sighed. “I’m sorry Vargan. For everything.”

Tuk slid to their knee’s beside you, examining the ice that pinned you two together.

Reaching down you touched the spear, releasing the magic that had conjured it into existence. Placing your hand on his calf you healed the wound quickly. He rolled away from you once you were done, storming off. Kiada hot on his heels.

Sitting up you placed your hand over your own wound and healing it but remaining there.

“Are you okay?” Tuk asks, tilting his head.

“Hm?” You blink, looking over to the scarred face of the goblin. “I wonder.” Standing up you test your weight on your injured leg and brush yourself off.

Tuk’s still staring at you, confused concern in his eyes. “Why do you look sad? Didn’t you win?”

Looking up to the stars you take a deep breath. “Let’s just hurry up and get this journey over with.”

Even more confused Tuk follows after you. You hide at the edge of the camp, pretending to be asleep until you finally fall asleep.

P.S

I wanted to do ‘something different’ and make a story where YOU yes YOU choose who you fall in love with.

Buying me a Ko-fi counts as 3 votes!

Who do you want to fall in love with?

Kiada the female orc?

Tuk the scared but sweet goblin?

Vargan the rough and tumble company leader?

Or the elven prince you’re betrothed to?

#orcs #no smutt yet #it's a multi part story.#Goblin #Vote on the love interest!#Who do you fall in love with?

142 notes · View notes