The Darkest Heart

The battle for Middle Earth was over. The battle for his heart had only begun.

Legolas frowned, his brown eyes glistening in the moonlight. It had been three years since the fall of Sauron, and for three years, he had felt empty.

Legend said that when an elf saw the sea, he would never again find rest in the world. For Legolas, the sea had been something much darker than an ocean. And his soul cried out to that for which he longed, but could never regain.

Why did you have to die too?

He stared out at the charred remains of Mordor. What was once a place of deep evil had begun to heal, but the stains on this land were as dark and permanent as those festering in his heart.

"I call upon you, ancient creators of this earth," he called to the wind, "return to me that for which my heart truly longs."

There was no reply.

He sighed, sitting on the cliff overlooking the ruined country. I fear I may never be whole again.


Legolas awoke to the sensation of a cold, bony hand caressing his face. He tried to cry out, but found he had no voice to do so.

How did he sneak up on me?

The Nazgul, for that was who the hand belonged to, seemed to laugh at his attempt, pinning the blonde elf down and perching on his torso.

"Let go of me."

The Nazgul shook its head, his black, tattered hood pulled over his ghostly face.

"Nooo. I will not release you."

"Why not?"

It bent over him, unbuttoning his shirt slowly with his bony fingers, caressing his pale skin.

Legolas gasped at this sensation. Was this really happening?

The Nazgul paused to gently play with the elf's golden locks, laughing hollowly.

"Because this is what you want."

The creature climbed off of him, lifting him into his arms. The elf sighed in contentment, embracing him passionately. He was consumed with a burning desire he could not quite name, as if the creature was calling out to his soul, and his soul responded in kind.

Yes. This is all I've ever wanted.

He leaned up, pushing back the Nazgul's hood to reveal his piercing red eyes.

"Kiss me," he commanded.

The Nazgul gripped his arms tightly, drawing their embrace even tighter. Then he lifted Legolas' chin with one hand, drawing him up to his empty face.

At first, the elf felt nothing but ice. Yet, as he kissed the Nazgul, he began to feel passion and desire well up within him. And the Nazgul, it seemed, was feeling the same. For where was once unspeakable formlessness, a face began to materialize. A cold, stern, manly face, with a crooked nose and lips that complimented the elf's gentle features.

As Legolas moaned against these lips, they were suddenly removed from him. He groaned in protest, only to gasp in pleasure as the Nazgul began to kiss his jawbone, trailing his rough tongue down the elf's neck to the collarbone.

"Do you want more, elf?"

"Y-yes!" he cried. "Please!"

The Nazgul laughed, pressing his bony hand against his pale, now completely shirtless chest.

"You are so eager. Good."

As the Nazgul began devouring his body in passion, the elf felt himself melt, pleasure consuming him. He cried out in soft yelps as the creature savored him, caressing him all over. Nothing had ever felt like this before.

"Please, don't stop." he gasped as the Nazgul withdrew.

"Oh, I'm not stopping. This is only the beginning."