Hi all,

I have a super important WARNING for this chapter so please read:

Things are going to start getting progressively darker from here. This is the first chapter we see not from Frodo's POV, and it is a turning point in the story.

This chapter contains implied (non-explicit) DUBIOUS consent; arguably for all parties, though for different reasons. This content made me a bit apprehensive of posting the chapter. In the end though, it is very much a pivotal and logical part of the plot, so I am not rewriting it or cutting it. Heads up though: the story will not in any shape or form normalize this, or make it look okay.

If you are comfortable with reading the explicit scene (edited out and marked with **), I would advise you to head to AO3, as some of the thoughts and actions are very relevant to the plot, but you can probably get the gist by reading the aftermath if you would reather just read this version.

Anyway, thank you very much for your comments and favorites :3

Chapter 14

The two elves hardly ever stopped. Three times, they had brief breaks any given day, and the nights were short, maybe four hours or so, before the elves woke Frodo and Gimli, to continue their journey. Frodo slept as much as he could on Glorfindel's back but it was hard. His position was in no way comfortable when forced to stay in place for so long, and he was still incredibly cold especially since reaching the higher mountains, where the temperature dropped drastically. Frodo also thought he might be getting ill. Not only did his shoulder throb without respite, but his shivering was near constant as well. He was developing a fever slowly but surely. Whether it was because of the cold or the injury – which deteriorated because of the cold – Frodo did not know. It didn't much matter, either. Glorfindel had noticed, of course, as had Sadees, who kept up a litany of worried hisses as the heat Frodo's body produced became progressively warmer as the days passed.

With the elves moving at full speed, they reached Caradhras in little more than a week, an incredible feat. By that time, however, Frodo was barely conscious, his fever much too high. Glorfindel was frantic with worry, and that night, they found a cave to set camp in and built a large fire in hopes of it helping Frodo, though it appeared not to make much of a difference.

"What do we do?" Glorfindel asked in a hushed tone. "We cannot continue like this. He could die if this illness is allowed to progress further," he said, placing Frodo's head in his lap, stroking a few dark strands of hair off his sweaty forehead.

"We do not have the means to treat him," Legolas sighed. Neither of them had any talent for healing. "Perhaps if we got him to Lórien as fast as possible, he could be healed?"

"But continuing on in this weather will not help him either," Glorfindel hissed agitatedly.

Gimli cleared his throat. "Perhaps we could try Moria?" he hedged.

"Mirthrandir has warned us not to," Legolas cautioned, shooting Gimli a dark look. "We are nearly at the pass already. I say we clear it as soon as possible. It would take us less than two days to get through. It is the fastest way, too."

Glorfindel clenched his fist, but he nodded at Legolas. "I agree. The faster we get to Lórien, the better."

"Then it is decided," Legolas said, just as Frodo whimpered, tossing and squirming in the throes of a nightmare.

Glorfindel leaned over him, finger winding into Frodo's hair. "Hush, little sprite. It is but a dream," he said, stroking a pale cheek.

"Glorfind'l?" Frodo rasped.

"Yes. You have a high fever," the elf told him quietly. "We will get you to a healer as soon as possible. You will get better."

Frodo nodded. "'m sorry," he muttered. "'m troubles'm."

Glorfindel smiled down at him, gentle hands still stroking his hair. "Nonsense, my love. That you could never be," he whispered into the cute ear.

Once Glorfindel lifted his head back up, he found Legolas watching them curiously. Glorfindel shot him a challenging look, but Legolas merely blinked, eyes darting down to Frodo, then off to the side. The other elf said nothing, though Glorfindel was certain he had heard his words. Even if not, Legolas had been bound to notice their interactions and sleeping arrangements these past few weeks. Where others' senses failed them in the dark, an elf had no such handicaps. Legolas had to have known about their relationship for some time. Estel had noticed as well, of that Glorfindel was certain.

Oh, he had seen through the ranger's behaviour from the start, Glorfindel thought, and an uncharacteristic, malicious sneer appeared on his face for a flash before it was gone. He blinked, and shook his head to clear it, but a simmering agitation in the back of his mind refused to leave. It was odd, this possessive fury and aggression that sprung up unannounced, but Glorfindel thought he was doing a fine job of keeping it at bay. Usually he was able to logically reason why he ought not to be feeling such unprovoked emotions. Finding his other half, his soul's fated was bound to unbalance any elf, but Glorfindel never knew just how difficult it would be to keep control and rationality.

It was getting ever harder to keep a cool head, however, as the days bled into one another. At one point, he had been hard pressed not to outright attack Aragorn, so enraged was he when the man took his jealousy out on Frodo himself. That time, when they practiced, Glorfindel had come close to interrupting and tearing the man apart for how he treated Frodo. Repressed desires or no, Estel had no right to act as he had. At least he had been contrite enough. Perhaps it would prompt the stupid man to deal with his feelings, even if it was too late, for his sprite belonged to him alone, now. Estel had bumbled around too long.

Glorfindel was not complaining.

The niggling feeling of wrongness in the back of his mind slowly faded out of his notice while he continued stoking Frodo's curls, satisfaction simmering into his emotions instead. Frodo was his.

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The company decided to have a proper night's rest. Even if the elves needed little sleep, Gimli was appreciative – at least enough so to stop spitting curses at elves for a few hours – and Frodo needed the undisturbed rest. Possibly worsening his condition in hopes of gaining a few hours was not worth the risk.

As they settled down for the night, Legolas remained outside on guard, for they could not afford to be careless any longer. Unlikely as it was that they would be pursued, it could not be ruled out completely. Gimli settled down on the far side of the cave and was snoring within minutes. Staying close to the fire, Glorfindel slipped into his bedroll as well, and pulled Frodo into his arms to keep him safe and warm. The little one shuddered and moaned in his sleep, his serpent twitching around his fevered neck in agitation.

Glorfindel curled himself around Frodo's back, arm snaking around the slender waist to clutch him closer. An image came unbidden to his mind, of an evening spent in shallow water, Frodo's pale skin glistening under the moonlight as he moaned in pleasure under Glorfindel…

He willed himself not to think of such things and took deep breaths as he tried to calm his sudden arousal. This was not the time, and he was not about to take advantage of his lover while he lay sick and unconscious in his arms. Not even within the confines of his own mind would he allow himself to violate the little one's trust in such fashion.

Glorfindel sighed and closed his eyes, intending to get some rest himself as well. It would not hurt to sleep a bit, especially since carrying around so much weight – not that Frodo was all that heavy, but still – did tire him out o bit. This way, he would have more energy to keep up with the punishing pace on the morrow.

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The next morning, Glorfindel awoke with Frodo sleeping beside him peacefully, breathing much easier than he had the previous night. Even his fever had abated somewhat, Glorfindel noted after checking his temperature by placing a hand on his forehead. Sighing in relief, he climbed out of the bedroll without disturbing Frodo, and stepped over to the dwarf to shake him awake. He shot up with a growl, fingers already fumbling for the handle of his axe, and Glorfindel smiled, despite himself. Honestly, the dwarf was amusing. And he wasn't all that bad, if one learned to ignore the noisiness. And the smell. And the uncouth language. And the attitude. Well, on second thought, perhaps he would not be making friends with him just yet.

As the two walked to the mouth of the cave to join Legolas, they were greeted by the sight of the mountainside dressed in pure white. A thick layer of snow had fallen to cover the rocky ground overnight and the air was noticeably crisp, even to the elves. It did not appear to affect the dwarf overly much, however.

"Luck is not on our side," Legolas murmured and Glorfindel nodded.

"Neither is Caradhras, or so it seems. The pass is known to be treacherous."

Gimli grunted at that in agreement. "We should turn back," he said. "We can't move in this snow."

Legolas shook his head. "No, master dwarf. That will not be a problem," he said. "It is the cold that worries us."

Glorfindel frowned. "We will not have to spend much time in it. And Frodo is looking better. His fever is less alarming, to be sure."

Legolas hummed. "We continue?"

"We continue."

Having agreed, the three moved back into the cave to pack and erase all signs of their presence. Glorfindel kneeled beside Frodo, stroking a finger down the bridge of his nose to rouse him. The tip twitched cutely, and Frodo's brows furrowed in annoyance. Glorfindel grinned as his lover cracked an eye open, glaring indignantly.

"Time to wake," Glorfindel said and Frodo groaned, before stretching and sitting up.

"I feel much better," he announced.

"Yes. Your fever is nearly gone. You are barely warmer than normal."

"That is good," Frodo said, relief evident in his voice. "I am sorry for causing so much trouble."

Glorfindel frowned at him. "There is no need to apologize for getting sick, Frodo."

Frodo waved that off and quickly changed the subject. "So, how far along are we?"

"Near Caradhras," Glorfindel answered after a pause.

"Really?" Frodo asked in surprise, then turned his attention to his snake, hissing something to her quietly. Glorfindel watched them converse, fascinated as always by the sprite's strange ability. It was an odd language to listen to, sibilant and elegant, Frodo's tongue wrapping around the syllables in a near sensual manner. Glorfindel had to avert his gaze from his lover's mouth before he embarrassed himself.

He stood, motioning for Frodo to do the same once he looked up. They made fast work of packing the bedroll, Frodo visibly shivering a bit as the cold hit him outside the cocoon of the blanket. Once both he and the dwarf were situated atop their respective elves, Legolas and Glorfindel walked outside the cave, and began loping over the layer of snow gracefully, not disturbing the frozen white blanket under their feet. Both Frodo and the dwarf made surprised sounds, and Glorfindel smiled at his lover's awe, even as he worried about the cold, feeling the shivering by his back getting worse. They would have to hurry. He did not dare have Frodo exposed to such cold for long. It was unfortunate he had to be exposed at all.

Luck was not on their side. Not an hour had passed, when the weather, yet again, changed for the worse. Ugly, grey clouds gathered overhead in what seemed like a blink of an eye, and they began to sprinkle light, powdery snow upon them, limiting the elves' excellent vision and eventually soaking them all thoroughly. Frodo's shivering got gradually worse, and Glorfindel could feel his fever mount by his back. He could tell by the labored panting at his nape, too, that Frodo's state was regressing fast, and if that hadn't been incentive enough, the worsening snow storm certainly was. They had to stop.

"Legolas!" Glorfindel yelled to be heard over the howling of the wind, narrowing his eyes as icy snow cut at his face.

"I know!" Legolas called. "I am searching for shelter! We must wait this out!"

Glorfindel gritted his teeth, hand reaching behind him to skim his lover's side in a brief caress. They did not have the time to sit it out. Frodo needed to get warm, fast.

"There!" Legolas pointed, and Glorfindel followed the line of his gesture to a large rock formation. It was not going to give them complete cover, but there was a small sheltered space underneath, an enclave, that would protect them from the worst of the wind and snow. Nodding, Glorfindel ran towards it, full speed.

He collapsed in relief once he got under the cover of the rocks, immediately reaching up to fumble with the knot of his cloak that held Frodo in place. In the meantime, Legolas also came crashing in, and the dwarf hopped off his back, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to breath some warmth on the frozen digits.

"Help, Legolas," Glorfindel gritted out, knowing that Frodo was not conscious enough to stop himself from falling back if he let go of the cloak tethering him.

Legolas stepped behind him wordlessly, and grabbed Frodo under his arms, plucking him off Glorfindel's back as soon as Glorfindel let the cloak fall. Glorfindel whirled around and snatched Frodo out of Legolas' hold to clutch him to his chest. The little one was not moving at all. Panicked, Glorfindel reached up to check his breathing, and was relieved to find fast, labored puffs of air on his fingertips. Searching for his lover's pulse, he found it weak. Much too weak.

"He needs to get warm," he gritted out, panic making his voice shake. He gently handed Frodo to Legolas and quickly began shucking his clothes off, barking at Legolas, "Undress him. The upper body for now. I do not know how else to warm him in time. He is dying from exposure."

The other elf blinked and frowned in worry. He did as Glorfindel had instructed, leaving the pouch with the Ring alone, but also finding Frodo's serpent under the clothes. The creature looked to be in a bad state as well; she was stiff, barely moving, and she did not react to Legolas' touch. Carefully, Legolas held her out to Glorfindel, who held her to his now naked chest while he waited for Frodo to be placed on his lap. As soon as the little one was deposited in his arms, he clutched him close.

"Cover us. Drape both cloaks on Frodo's back and arrange it so it encloses him," Glorfindel said.

Legolas stared for a moment, uncertain. Then, instead of doing as Glorfindel had asked, he began undressing as well with a determined frown. Once rid of the upper clothes, he slid down behind Frodo, nudging Glorfindel's legs below the little one further apart so that he could sit between the knees. He scooted as close as possible, plastering himself to the tiny back to keep it from the elements, and stretching his own legs out alongside the shorter, thinner ones, so Frodo was now in direct contact with body heat from all sides. He threw one cloak over Glorfindel and used Frodo's smaller garment to awkwardly reach forward and tuck it around the little feet. Finally, he threw his own cloak over his back, and pulled it forward, so that the hems overlapped with the other cloak's, effectively creating a cocoon between the two elves, sheltering Frodo and trapping all the warmth between them.

Legolas met Glorfindel's eyes above the mop of messy black hair. They stared at each other before Glorfindel inclined his head.

"Good thinking, Legolas. Annon allen," he said in honest appreciation.

The edges of Legolas' mouth curved up slightly. "Of course," he said, and craned his neck to find what the dwarf had gotten up to. Oddly enough, he was relieved to find him sitting only a few feet away, leaning against the rocks. Under all that tangled red hair, he looked worried.

"Fear not, master dwarf," Legolas said. "We will warm Frodo, and he should get better."

"I sure hope," he answered. "He's a good lad."

Legolas smiled. "That he is."

The dwarf grunted. "What now?" he asked.

At that, his expression dropped. Legolas sighed, looking to Glorfindel. The elf had by then buried a hand into Frodo's hair, rubbing his scalp soothingly, and Glorfindel had bent his head forward so their foreheads were touching. He looked up when he heard Legolas call his name.

"What do you propose we do, Glorfindel?"

"We cannot continue upon this path. We cannot risk it. Frodo will not last," he murmured, eyes back on his lover's face. "We turn back as soon as I am sure Frodo can survive the trip. Hopefully, the storm will give us some respite, but we cannot rely on the hope of this not happening again. We must get away as soon as we can; we are simply unable to cross Caradhras. Not so unequipped when traveling with one of such delicate race."

Legolas frowned, but he inclined his head in reluctant agreement. "Moria, then?"

Glorfindel did not answer, but they all knew they had little other choice.

"It will be fine, you'll see," the dwarf assured. "My kin will offer us aid. We will receive a reception worthy of kings!" he exclaimed, determined to prove his word and absolutely sure besides.

"Let us hope that is indeed the case," Legolas muttered under his breath, and Glorfindel nodded.

They quieted after that, having nothing more to talk about. Glorfindel and Legolas just sat surrounding their charge. Glorfindel had an arm wrapped around Frodo's shoulder, the other hand rested on his hip, while Legolas snaked both arms around the small waist, hugging the shivering body close to give as much contact as possible. He could also reach Sadees this way. The serpent lay in Frodo's lap, and Legolas was worried for her as well; he had gotten quite attached to the animal, having spent the past weeks petting her daily as if she were a cat. She was doing better though, much to his relief. She had warmed, and had shifted a few times under Legolas' fingers, emitting quiet hisses.

The elves could feel Frodo's shivers gradually subside, however, he was burning up as badly as he had before, if not worse. Sweat broke out all over his skin, and while his pulse had strengthened, his heartbeat was much too fast an erratic. It was a challenge getting fluids into him, Frodo barely being aware enough to swallow the water the elves trickled carefully into his mouth. He also began having horrific nightmares, from which he could never be freed, hallucinations of his terrors following him to the waking world whenever his eyes fluttered open. Glorfindel tried to shush him, but his comfort had little effect on the fevered dreams. And so, they were forced to listen to the terrified pleas and moans without being able to do anything to help.

"Mom? Dad?" Frodo muttered. "Am I dead? Is Dumbledore…?"

"Hush, my love," Glorfindel murmured, stroking his lover's cheek. He had some idea what Frodo was dreaming about, but he was rather certain he did not like the sound of it. A parent's death always wounded the spirit deeply. He wondered, however, why Frodo would think he was dying. Had he been with his parents when they had died? "You are not dead."

"No?" Frodo muttered in confusion.

"Not at all, little sprite."

"It hurts…"

Glorfindel shivered, clutching Frodo tighter. "It will pass," he murmured into the soft curls.

"No!" Frodo suddenly yelled, and he started trashing around in the elves' hold. "No! Get out! Get out! Get out!" he chanted desperately, bringing his hands up to claw at his forehead. Legolas immediately grabbed for his wrists, but already, Frodo had done quite a bit of damage. His nails had gauged into his skin deeply, and blood was trickling down the bridge of his nose, painting it an ugly red.

"Frodo, stop!" Glorfindel called frantically.

But the thrashing only continued. Then Frodo spoke, his voice a raspy hiss, sending shivers down the elves' spine.

"…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

Glorfindel and Legolas could only stare with wide eyes. The phrase sounded odd, as if echoing in a thousand different languages all at once, the sounds overlapping, yet they could still understand it.

"Was that…?" Legolas trailed off.

"A prophecy. It sounded like a prophecy," Glorfindel whispered.

"Do you think –"

"I do not know," Glorfindel cut Legolas off. "We shan't speak of this again, not out in the open where a fell wind could carry our words," he said harshly. "This sounds much too important to take any more risks than we have already been forced into. We must seek the Lady Galadriel's counsel."

Legolas nodded, understanding the necessity. He looked down at Frodo, who now lay limp in their arms, and Legolas cautiously unclenched his fingers from where they had been gripping the thin wrists. Frodo did not move again, however, so both elves let themselves relax marginally, Legolas' arms resuming their hold around his waist, while Glorfindel stroked the sweaty face tenderly.

"Gl'rfin'l?" Frodo muttered, and the elf was relieved to hear him regaining some coherency.

"Yes, little sprite," Glorfindel answered, still caressing his lover. "You are terribly ill, my love."

"Hmmm," he murmured, moaning at the pleasant touches.

"Does this feel nice?" Glorfindel asked with a smile, still caressing the sweaty, but beautiful face.

Frodo hummed in agreement, leaning into the touches. "Too hot," he muttered. "Hands cold."

Glorfindel chuckled, continuing his ministrations, cupping Frodo's chin in his palm and sliding it down to caress his neck. Frodo let his head fall back, resting it on Legolas' shoulder, though he seemed not to notice the other elf behind him. He moaned as Glorfindel engulfed his nape in his cooling touch.

Glorfindel flinched away at the sound, feeling himself react in a most unwelcome manner, and he nearly groaned when he felt his lover's arousal against his stomach as well. Glorfindel closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself; how could he even contemplate such a thing in such an inappropriate circumstance? It was wrong, it felt wrong… He glanced up at Legolas, gaze somewhat apologetic, and saw the other elf gazing at the rocks overhead stoically.

Sighing, Glorfindel leaned his head closer to Frodo, whispering, "Please stop this, my love. You know not what you are doing."

Frodo hummed uncomprehendingly, shifting his hips as his arousal mounted, and Glorfindel's hands shot under the blanket to grab at Frodo's waist, only to find another set of arms already entwined there as well. Again, his eyes jerked up to search Legolas' face, but besides a slight tensing of his jaw, he did not react. The princeling was surely regretting his decision to help now.

Then again, a dark voice whispered through Glorfindel's mind, perhaps it is just what the other elf wanted from the beginning…

"Stop, Frodo," Glorfindel gritted out as Frodo continued shifting in his lap restlessly, his fingers clenching at the bony hips, trying to force the movements to a stop.

Frodo only whined, however, panting now, and turned his flushed face to the side, burying it into Legolas' neck. His hips jerked, almost rhythmically, and Glorfindel felt the serpent that had been resting between them slither up to wind around his own neck, so she would not get crushed. Her movement only seemed to agitate Frodo further, and he sucked in a breath as her scales brushed against his sensitive skin.

"Frodo," Glorfindel called again in warning, but it only resulted in a particularly sharp jerk of those thin hips.

Desperate, Glorfindel turned his gaze to Legolas again, not knowing what to do. Their eyes met, and the other elf shot a look at the dwarf which Glorfindel followed, finding their fourth companion leaning against the rocks and snoring loudly. That, at least, was a relief.

Clenching his jaw, Legolas spoke. "I will go."

Glorfindel tensed. "No!" he snapped. "We cannot afford to leave him exposed. Not yet."

Legolas nodded slowly, and Glorfindel could feel his arms flexing around Frodo's waist.

'The elf wants what is yours too,' a voice crooned in his thoughts. 'You could show him what he can never have. Your beautiful mate. The bearer desires you now, would you keep him waiting and in pain? Look how eager he is.'

Yet the violation of his mind went unnoticed, and only the suggestion remained.

Eventually, unable to ignore his lover any longer, he sighed in resignation.

"Only this once," he whispered darkly, and Legolas' eyes darted up again to meet his in disbelief. Glorfindel averted his gaze to look upon Frodo, and Glorfindel's fingers trailed away from his hip...

**Secene edited out**

Legolas shuddered in horrified wonder at what he'd done.

Had he…? How could he…? This should have never happened, he thought, even as he twitched with the aftereffect of his orgasm. The little one, Frodo, was not his for the taking, not at all. Why had he let himself get drawn into this? For that matter, why had Glorfindel allowed this to progress so far? Legolas had known the noble elf for a great many years and would have not imagined him to be the sort to not only share a lover but do so while the other was in no state to consent or protest. He… they both had done grievous wrong. This should never have happened. What would Estel say…? He would be horrified. He would be repulsed. And Legolas could not fault him. Even if he did not know his friend had been harboring conflicted feelings towards the small hobbit, his sense of honor would have him disgusted with Legolas and Glorfindel both. Legolas should have left when he had the chance. Or he should have simply refused to participate in this travesty, no matter how aroused.

Glorfindel, too, was coming off his high, and gradually growing colder inside. Had he really? Had he thought those awful thoughts? Had he facilitated such vile actions? Had he really violated his lover's trust so thoroughly? Glorfindel could not believe it. He honestly could not. He would have never thought such things, were he in his right mind. Eru! In the end, it wasn't even his sprite that pushed him over the edge, but the satisfaction of possession and Legolas's misery! That was wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong! Never had Glorfindel felt such a thing before, and he could not comprehend how it could have felt so right mere moments ago. Was that monster truly him? Could it be? Never in his long life had he considered himself capable of such vicious possessiveness. What had brought it on? Even mere minutes ago, such an idea would have never occurred to him. So why so suddenly? It was as if he was compelled…

"By the Valar," he breathed in despair, turning his pained eyes upon Legolas over the unconscious form of his lover. "The Ring," he whispered.

A look of grim comprehension dawned on Legolas' face. "It sows discord and despair," he murmured, eyes closing in resignation.

Both elves had steadfastly refused to covet the Ring. Any desire to take it from Frodo was completely an utterly crushed before the thoughts would take proper root. But the Ring had found a way to twist them in a manner no one would have expected.

They sat in silence for a bit, unmoving, in the same position they had taken their pleasure in, though that was the furthest thing from either of their minds as they considered the implications and consequences of their actions. Unexpectedly, Legolas gasped, and Glorfindel's heart sank when the elf's hand darted forward, wrapping around something by Glorfindel's neck. It was only as Legolas withdrew the limp, scaly body that he remembered Sadees. The serpent had slithered up to his neck to escape their crushing movements, but that had left her mostly exposed to the elements. No wonder she had not been moving, the poor creature was completely frozen.

"Will she make it?" Glorfindel asked in a pained whisper.

Legolas quickly wiped his hands, stomach, loins as well as Frodo's back with his tunic, and immediately brought Sadees between his and Frodo's bodies to warm. He rubbed her frantically, wanting to warm her and rouse her, but she didn't respond.

"I know not," Legolas replied, feeling empty.

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