Angelica had her legs wrapped around Sam as she lay atop him on a smooth patch of green grass in the middle of Elrond’s gardens. His hands held her hips as she rode him almost slowly, and he gazed up at her with an expression akin to adoration. She adored him, as well, in that moment.

Tall, pale flowers rose all around them. The moon was full in the sky above them, lending the flowers an ethereal glow that reminded her of the Elves themselves. Even in this autumn of Rivendell, they bloomed without blemish. They were of a variety of lily, long and bell-shaped, heavy heads hanging low as if they were weeping. But there were no tears for Angelica right now. There was no thought of what would come of this. There was no thought of anything except giving Sam pleasure, and receiving the pleasure he offered her.

Too quickly she reached her pinnacle, and she cried out. She heard Sam whisper her name and felt him give in to the same release. Angelica collapsed on top of him, sliding against his body. She pressed her lips to his, then laid her head against his shoulder.

“This is like a dream,” Sam said softly.

“It is a dream, Sam,” Angelica whispered back.

“Yes, I suppose it is, and I’m bound to wake up,” he replied sadly.

She kissed his shoulder, and thought about telling him what had happened that afternoon. Haldir had taken her by surprise. She had not been able to refuse his offer. He had mixed the elfinwort tonic, practically forced it down her throat. Oh, and how he had smirked as he watched her remember who she was...what she was. How she had been banished from her village.

It was so wrong. And it had been all Haldir’s fault! Damned Elves. She hated him.

But she hadn’t always hated him.

Of course, that was what had gotten her into trouble in the first place.

She sighed, and Sam stroked her hair.

“Is everything all right?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” she lied. “Everything is fine.”

And it was fine, as long as she was lying here in the garden on top of Samwise Gamgee. It would always be fine if the dream never ended.

But it would, and it did. Her dreams always did.

***

Ciendriel’s head was spinning, her heart was pounding, and she couldn’t see anything. Slowly she became aware that someone was kissing her. Someone who knew an awful lot about kissing. She put her arms around him and kissed him back almost against her own volition. A moan rose in her throat.

Her mind woke up quickly, but her body felt languid and heavy...and hot. She was aching with desire. The body pressed against her, the hands holding her, the mouth kissing her all promised to assuage that desire. A face rose in her mind. Legolas... but even before she could see, could focus, she knew it wasn’t him.

She pulled her lips away, pushed at his shoulders, but still he held her down, lips on her cheeks, her throat. “Stop...” she said raggedly. “Stop.”

“Do you really want me to stop?” Heavy hands on her breasts, caressing them through the thin material of her gown.

“Haldir...”

“Yes, my beauty. Tell me you don’t want me to stop.”

“Stop...stop...” she gasped, panting and writhing beneath him. “Haldir, no. Why are you here? Where is Legolas?”

“He is safe enough. Waiting for me.” Haldir laughed softly against her ear, then licked the pointed tip, making her shiver. She wanted to give in, to not think, to let him do as he wished. She was powerless to stop him, anyway. She felt like a big wooden doll, a puppet able to move only at his command.

“Please, go away,” she said. “And send him to me. I ache, and I need him.”

“Your aches will be soothed, but not by him.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You are in no condition to fight me, Ciendriel. Just relax, and enjoy what you feel.”

His voice was rich and sensuous, like liquid honey. The sound of it made her want to kiss him again...but something inside her still rebelled, still whispered that this was not what she truly wanted. The whole situation was of Haldir’s making.

“I don’t want to fight you, Haldir. I like you, very much. But you don’t understand... Legolas is supposed to come to me...”

“Legolas isn’t going anywhere tonight.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t need to...” he kissed her again, brutally, and she struggled weakly beneath him.

“Haldir, this is really insufferable.”

“Indeed, it is. That dress needs to come off.”

“I am very hot. But I don’t trust you to remove it.”

He chuckled. He put his hand on the neckline of the dress and crumpled the silk in his hand, then yanked down roughly. The beautiful gown tore wide open and Haldir pushed it off of her, revealing her pale, iridescent flesh.

“There you go,” he said, bending his blond head over her chest to twist her nipple between his teeth.

She screamed out with the pleasure of it, but pounded her fists on his back. “Oh, you bastard, you’ve ruined my dress!”

“I thought Elves of Ingra preferred leggings.”

“Very well, hand me my leggings, then.”

Haldir chuckled again. “Perhaps later. Though my own seem suddenly tight, with all of your wriggling.”

He withdrew from her body and she gasped in a welcome, cool breath. She looked up at him, but she was still seeing through a haze. She couldn’t remember coming back to her chamber with him, nor leaving Legolas...where? Haldir stripped off his leggings and tunic, revealing a fine body. He was broader and more muscular than Legolas, and pleasing enough to the eye. Her body stirred further at the sight of him, and it occurred to her that she ought be covering herself with the ruins of her dress. Still, she didn’t move to do so. She wished desperately that Legolas would come to her, and that Haldir would take his beautiful naked body elsewhere.

Ciendriel tried to sit up, but she had no strength. All she could do was lie there and burn. How had this come about? She flashed back on Haldir handing her and Legolas each a goblet of wine, and then... nothing. She licked her lips. She could still taste the wine, even after the heavy assault of Haldir’s tongue. And behind the wine, something else. A bitter herb used to inspire passion. She knew it well enough, had played pranks with it that her mother had whipped her for...and now she was its victim. This might not have been so bad if Legolas had been here, and not Haldir.

Part of her was asking what was so bad about Haldir, after all, since he did happen to be standing there, naked and willing to pleasure her when she was in such obvious need, but the more rational part of her reminded her that it was his fault she felt this way to begin with.

“You drugged me,” she said thickly.

“Such accusations.” Haldir slid down onto the bed, his body moving against hers sinuously, making her cry out.

“I am on fire!”

“Then let me put out the fire...Ciendriel...”

Her name sounded too sweet on his lips. She wanted to cry. She wanted to give in and enjoy this.

“This night was meant for Legolas. Why do you take it from him? From me? Is he not your friend, Haldir?”

“More than a friend. He is mine, and will always belong to me. So, perhaps, shall you.”

“No...”

But his hands and mouth were insistent and soon the rest of him was, too. She couldn’t fight him. He invaded her flesh, claiming her.

***

Legolas was brought back into awareness by the pain of a rough invasion of his person. He was face down, spread eagled on a soft bed that smelled familiar enough to leave him with little doubts as to who was abusing him. He buried his face in the pillows, feeling hung-over and sick.

Somewhere in his body, there was heat, and soon enough it began to respond, but he laid still, not trying to increase or encourage it. This was not the first time Haldir had forced him. Why did he never learn?

And where was Ciendriel? What had Haldir done to her?

He couldn’t bring himself to ask. He simply lay there and accepted what was happening to him, for there was nothing else he could do in that moment.

Yet he thought of her, and in his heart, he grieved.

“So silent, Legolas,” came Haldir’s voice in his ear when it was over. “Ciendriel was not nearly so silent when I lay with her.”

Legolas still said nothing. He was broken inside. Ciendriel was hurt, and it was all his fault. He should have known better than to let Haldir anywhere near her.

“Do you blame yourself?” Haldir continued, as if he could read Legolas’ mind. “You are absolved of all guilt, of course. I know that. She knows that. Even Elrond knows that. Why do you not?”

And yet Legolas could not give in to the temptation. Maybe he wanted to suffer for what had happened. Ciendriel surely was lost to him now. How could she look upon him with anything but hatred?

Haldir sighed against his ear. The bigger elf put his arms around Legolas, drawing him up against his body in a gesture that might have been comforting had Haldir not just violated him. Legolas buried his face against Haldir’s shoulder. Maybe this was all he deserved.

***

Gimli was snoring so loudly that Frodo could not fall asleep. Sam and Angelica had never come back, and Frodo hadn’t seen Merry and Pippin since the banquet. Frodo lay on the bed beside the Dwarf and stared at him. He longed to reach out and touch Gimli’s beard, but he didn’t want to hear Gimli mumbling about Legolas in his sleep again.

Part of Frodo wished that Gimli would just admit that he wanted Legolas , and get over it. Part of him grieved that he didn’t know how to get Gimli’s attention, himself. And part of him wished he was back in the reeds by the edge of the river with Angelica.

Frodo got out of the bed and walked out on the terrace of the room, which overlooked Lord Elrond’s gardens. The gardens were so beautiful, so peaceful. Maybe a walk through them would help make him tired enough to sleep. He should have had more wine at the banquet.

Frodo stared out at the gardens and thought he saw something rustling, but when he rubbed his eyes, it had stopped. He stood and watched for several long minutes, but it didn’t come again, so he turned towards the door. Sam was just entering the room, his hair and clothes something of a mess. Frodo hadn’t realized how much exertion it had taken them to get Gimli up here.

“Good evening, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said, sounding nervous.

“Is everything all right, Sam? Where’s Angelica?”

“She’s right behind me. Stopped to catch a breath of air on the terrace.”

Frodo remembered that Angelica had wanted to speak to him about something earlier, and this seemed as good a time as any to ask her about it. He walked past Sam, and noticed that the other Hobbit’s jacket seemed awfully dirty.

Angelica was indeed on the terrace and she looked up in surprise as Frodo approached. She smiled, but something about the smile seemed wistful. Frodo moved next to her and she put her arms around him and kissed his mouth. It made him tremble slightly. His lips parted beneath hers. She sighed against him.

“You soothe me,” he said, clinging to her. For a moment he lost himself in the pleasure that being near her gave him. It was so different from the way he felt around Gimli that he couldn’t even put a name to it.

Angelica stroked his hair, tangling her fingers in his curls. “I am glad,” she replied softly.

Frodo lifted his head. He drew back, but took her hands in his own. “Earlier, you said you wanted to talk about something...”

Angelica looked away. “Yes, I did say that.”

“Have you changed your mind?”

“Frodo...can I trust you to keep a secret?”

“Of course...”