My Warriors, My Beloveds

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Chapter 7: The Witch-king of Angmar

Northern Mirkwood: 28th of March, 2969
Twilight

Harry’s head pounded, but when he tried to rub his temples, he discovered he could not move his arms.

Emerald eyes snapped open.

Harry took in his surroundings. He was shackled wrists and ankles to a post in a clearing. The sky was getting darker – hours had passed since his shield had fallen. The clearing was full of orcs and wargs, though few were near him.

A black robed figure caught his attention. Broad and tall, the Man was wearing a large helmet that completely covered his face.

“The prisoner has awoken, my lord,” a whispery voice called from his left.

Harry started, staring into dark red eyes set in a pale, pale face.
Nazgul.

The green-eyed Elf struggled in his bindings, trying to call up his magic, but his head was pounding and his stomach churning, and he felt the waves of power slip away.

“Ah, ah,” a deep voice admonished. “None of that. Your magic will do you no good here, my pretty little Elf.”

Harry’s emerald eyes sought to pierce the darkness of that helmet, but it was no use. The face was shadowed, hiding his expression.

His deep voice betrayed amusement.

“Who are you?” the Elf spat. “Coward! You sent the orcs to do battle for you!”

“I saw recognition in your eyes when you looked upon Khamul, my dear. Can you not guess as to who I may be?” the deep voice purred as the figure approached where Harry was tied.

One pale, cold hand rose to stroke Harry’s smooth cheek, and emerald eyes widened in alarm.

“The Witch-king of Angmar!” he spat, attempting to jerk his skin away from those cool, spindly fingers.

“Oh, I prefer Lord of the Nazgul, or Chief of the Nine. Even Lord of Minas Morgul. I no longer rule
Angmar, you know. And what immortal Ringwraith wishes to be called a ‘witch’?” the voice shot back, amused.

“Oh, and as for my cowardliness, as you so delicately put it: I thought it a bit overkill to sent my Nazgul to capture you when I knew the orcs would do. Not that the Men did not die anyway,” he laughed.
Harry closed his eyes in pain…Thorongil…

“You lie,” he whispered. “They are strong…”

The Witch-king chuckled darkly.

“Did you think your Man would allow you to be captured if he was not dead?” the dark figure murmured.

“H-how did you…?” Harry questioned, unsure and uncertain.

How had the Witch-king known of Thorongil’s feelings?

“I watched your group from the moment you passed out of the borders of the Elven Realm, waiting for the perfect time to strike,” the figure admitted. “The Men were tired and weary, and you were separated from most by quite a distance.”

Harry’s head fell back against the post in despair. It was all his fault…had he not allowed Thorongil to push the Men so hard…had he allowed the Men to sleep and given Legolas his answer at dawn before
departing…

“But that is no matter now,” the Witch-king murmured. “For they are gone, and you are here. The murmurings of your beauty and unique power finally reached Minas Morgul some weeks ago, and Lord Sauron sent me to follow your trail. Imagine my pleasure and surprise when my informants told me that you had left the side of Gandalf.”

Harry pushed back the tears from his eyes and the bile from his throat, and summoned all of his courage.

“What do you want, you monster?” he snarled, spitting onto the Witch-king’s helmet.

A chuckle was his response, as cold fingers finally left his face.

Pale hands went to remove the black helmet, revealing a pale, pale face with gleaming golden-white hair and a shining crown.

“I already have what I want,” the Man murmured, moving his larger body closer to Harry’s bound one. “You, in my possession.”

Harry faltered at the look in those cruel blue eyes.

“No answer?” the Witch-king chuckled, putting his pale hands on the soft tunic covering Harry’s chest. “I so look forward to your fire.”

“I am not entertainment!” Harry snarled, attempting to twist his body away from the proprietary touches.

“Ah, you are right in that,” the deep voice murmured. “You shall be so much more. I have been waiting millenia for an Elf capable of bearing my children. Your race is very protective of its females, and Elves are nearly impossible to capture alive – your pride will not allow it. But the wait was worth it, my lovely. You are perfect. My child shall be just as immortal as I, just as beautiful as you, and powerful enough to make Lord Sauron think twice.”

Harry emerald eyes widened in terror.

“You…you cannot force an Elf!” he countered. “I shall Fade and wither away to nothing before I let you touch me in that manner!”

The Witch-king stepped back with another cruel chuckle.

“There are ways, my lovely. There are ways,” he said ominously. “I shall leave you to think on your future. It will be much more pleasant if you comply willingly.”

“Never!” Harry swore.

The Lord of Minas Morgul ignored him, turning his back and walking to where most of the Nazul were gathered.

“It could be worse,” the Nazgul that the Witch-king had called Khamul stated.

“How so?” Harry snarled.

“He could take you forcefully, uncaring whether you Fade. Then we would each get a turn with your beautiful body before feeding you piece by piece to the orcs,” Khamul whispered cruelly with a smirk.

Harry had no response to that.

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Meanwhile…

“Senseless beasts,” Legolas snarled as they came upon the northern embankment of Forest River.

The sand was littered with the five dead bodies of the Men of Rohan, and many more orcs.

“That is true,” Glorfindel agreed. “Orcs and wargs do not act on their own direction, especially not like this. They attacked in large numbers, ambushing the group just as they dismounted their horses. The orcs attacked until they managed to capture Harry, and then immediately retreated. That is unusual behavior.”

Legolas nodded his head in agreement, dismounting his own horse to investigate the scene more closely.

“Those Men should not have returned alive,” he murmured. “If the attack was as overpowering as that Man claimed, the orcs should have finished them off and then stayed to feast on the dead flesh of Men and Orc alike.”

“I believe this is where Harry was captured,” Glorfindel pointed out near the treeline.

Legolas nodded, seeing signs of a large disturbance at that spot, and then leading into the forest.

The prince and lord remounted their stallions, beckoning the other Elves to follow their lead.

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Aragorn brought his horse to the clearing where earlier in the day he had nearly died.

Where earlier in the day his heart had been stolen.

He dismounted and stumbled off the stallion, feverish eyes taking in the scene of so much pain and death. Hand going to his side, he pulled it back to find it stained red with his own blood.

Aragorn set his jaw against the pain and shouldered on. Harry needed him.

He went to the spot where the Elf had been surrounded and attacked on all sides, finding evidence that
Legolas and Glorfindel had already followed the trail of the orcs’ retreat back into the forest.

Aragorn remounted his stallion with difficulty and followed.

He would not fail his love again.

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A few hours later…

“Are you hungry, my pretty?” the Witch-king asked, again stroking Harry’s fair cheek.

“I would rather starve than take food from you!” the Elf snarled, teeth snapping towards the caressing fingers.

The pale Man managed to bring his hand back just into time to avoid being bitten.

“So feisty. So much fire,” he murmured, lust burning in his eyes.

“Why do you not release me, and then I shall show you fire!” Harry replied, pulling against his chains.

The skin around his wrists was chafed and broken from his struggled, and a droplet of bright red blood slid down his pale forearm.

The Witch-king leaned forward and lapped up the blood with a warm, wet tongue.

“You taste so sweet,” he whispered. “Will all of you taste so sweet?”

“You will never find out!” Harry replied, trembling.

The Witch-king took in the watching Nazgul and Orcs, and smirked cruelly.

“Oh, I will find out, though I believe I shall wait until our return to Minas Morgul. I do not wish anyone else to see us in our passion,” he whispered into one delicately pointed ear.

Harry turned in an another attempt to bite him, but he just pulled away and chuckled.

“There will be no passion! I will Fade before I let your slimy hands touch me in such a way!” Harry declared, emerald eyes spitting fire.

“I am sure Lord Sauron will find a way around that little problem,” the Witch-king murmured, firelight glinting off his gleaming hair, making him appear as if alight. “It is amazing what sorcery can do, and even more amazing what a Maia can do. Even if you should Fade, the Dark Lord has the power to bring you back.”

“I cannot give you life if I am undead,” Harry spat. “And you may have my body, but my soul shall be safe in Valinor.”

That drew anger from the Witch-king, and he delivered a blow to Harry’s cheek. The pale skin blossomed red immediately, and the Elf licked a bit of blood from his split lip.

“Do you not like the truth, my lord?” the emerald-eyed youth asked mockingly.

The Witch-king took a deep breath and visibly calmed himself.

“Look what you made me do, my pet,” he murmured, hand softly stroking the pale skin he had so recently damaged. “And you shall bear me my immortal heirs, have no doubt of that. I have been waiting far too long for one such as you.”

The Witch-king stepped back and away from the young Elf, afraid his temper getting out of hand and harming his prisoner more than he wanted.

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“He is sick,” Legolas whispered from the surrounding trees, grey eyes glaring holes into the dark form of the Witch-king. “I shall offer his head to Harry on a platter after this battle is through.”

“Have you not heard my prophecy?” Glorfindel murmured, waving the Elven warriors to surround the encampment.

He took stock of the enemy numbers. There were perhaps fifty orcs and ten wargs left from the earlier battle.

The Nazgul were the true problem. Thankfully, all nine were not present. There was the Witch-king of Angmar himself, his lieutenant Khamul, and three others.

Glorfindel was confident that they could succeed in defeating them in all-out battle.

The problem was recovering Harry alive, for he feared that the Captain of Despair would kill the young
Elf before he allowed him escape.

“I am no Man,” Legolas snarled.

Glorfindel shook his head, he knew that he would not sway the prince from his vengeance.

“We shall wait until the first light of morning,” the elf-lord whispered.

The surrounding Elves nodded their heads, prepared for the wait.

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Meanwhile…

Aragorn stopped his horse for the night. It was too dark to follow the trail, and he could feel the poison working through his veins…

He believed the Elves would wait for morning, as orcs were greatly weakened by sunlight. He was just rest until it was light enough to continue following the trail…

Aragorn curled up at the base of a tree, immediately passing out. Disturbing images of Harry’s capture and treatment raced through his dreams, made worse by the fever wracking his body and the poison working itself through his blood.

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Harry was exhausted, but the uncomfortable position in which he was chained and the monsters surrounding him on all sides prevented his sleep. He felt the hungry eyes of the orcs and wargs, and the lustful eyes of the Wraith-king and his Nazguls.

Despair filled him at the thought of Thorongil’s death.

The Man who was his first, true friend after Gandalf, the Man who promised to teach him sword fighting to protect himself, the Man who admitted his love and affection…

That Man was dead, because Harry was gullible enough to fall for Prince Legolas’s pretty words and then be hurt when the prince did not follow through.

Harry pushed the tears and the grief back, determined not to cry in front of his captors.

He wished he had died in that clearing alongside Thorongil, but he would not spit on the Man’s memory by showing these cruel creatures his weakness.

Besides, Harry knew he would not make the journey back to Minas Morgul and the Dark Lord Sauron.

He could already feel himself Fading.

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Author’s Note: I know this was short; I know! *ducks rotten tomatoes* But I figured a quick, short chapter before the action we all know is coming next time…

Let me know what you think, either through a review or in my forums…

And go check out my new series of oneshots, Princes Do Not Share. The first chapter is Legolas/Harry and titled How Legolas Teaches Harry a Lesson and the second chapter is Elladan/Harry/Elrohir and titled Of Minxes and Their Worshipful Devotees. There will be more of Harry and his possessive princes in the future…