A/N  I was inspired to write this after reading another story.  So far this has Ar/B/L scenes and Ar/B implied.  Aragorn and Boromir are not particularly pleasant, just to warn you.  I think you can figure out the back story, but if not let me know.

********

Legolas stumbled away from the brutal laughter of his tormentors.  His anger and disgust at what had been done to him shifted, inward, until he loathed himself as much as the Men who had violated him.  How could he have been so weak?  He was a warrior!  His body was trained to obey him, and yet he had succumbed to their invasions.

He moaned in pain and anguish as the too recent pains, physical and mental, flowed over him, consuming his awareness.  He sank to the base of a nearby tree, unaware of the cold, the coming dawn, even his lack of clothing; aware only of his memories.

Gimli looked up from sharpening his axe.  Idly his glance roved around the clearing they had camped in.  The Hobbits were asleep in a pile, sharing body heat since they did not dare a large fire.  Gandalf sat against a tree, smoking thoughtfully.  The two Men had returned a short time ago, and were settling down to sleep, but the elf was nowhere to be seen.  "How long does it take anyone to gather wood?" he muttered.

Gandalf looked at him intently.  "How long, indeed," he mused.  He stood abruptly and moved from the circle of light.  Aragorn looked up from his bedding.

"Where's he off to?" the Man asked.

Glancing at the sleeping Hobbits to make sure they hadn't also disappeared, the dwarf replied, "Gone to find our wandering woodsboy."  He returned to his sharpening, missing the smirk that flew between the two Men.

Gandalf had come upon the stricken elf before he even saw the boy.  The lack of reaction from Legolas worried him; the elf should have heard him coming.  His dismay grew after he summoned light from his staff.  The damage to the elf was painfully obvious in the light.

"My dear boy, what has been done to you," the wizard murmured sadly, stooping near the oblivious elf.  There was no sign of life in the staring blue eyes.

Choking off his grief, Gandalf pulled a small herb pouch from his pocket.  The cuts and bruises were easily treated, but in no way accounted for the elf's condition.  He nearly cried when he found the evidence.  Someone had taken the elf forcefully, tearing the soft skin.  With this new knowledge, he lifted Legolas' unresisting chin, and found the further signs he had feared.  The elf remained motionless during Gandalf's treatment.  He did not react until the wizard pulled him into his arms, and then he struggled weakly against the entrapment.  Gandalf held himself as far from danger as he could, dodging the wild blows, which would have been painful even with Legolas so weak.  As if to prove this, a flailing fist made glancing contact with the wizard's chin, causing him to grind his teeth together involuntarily.  The elf ceased his struggle then, one hand buried in the wizard's beard.  He lay once again as one dead.

Gandalf looked down at the limp form, and sighed.  Their fellowship was on a difficult journey, and now it would be more difficult than it already was bound to be.  "Someday, you will tell me what happened here," the wizard whispered, rising more agilely than his appearance would allow, and heading back to their camp.

The Men and Hobbits were asleep when the dwarf's ears caught the wizard's return.  He scowled at the heavy steps, knowing full well that the wizard was capable of making very little noise.  His eyes widened in surprise as the wizard came into sight, carrying a wrapped figure that he could only assume was Legolas.

"Gandalf?" the dwarf whispered.  The wizard carried his bundle to a place beside the fire, near Gimli's lookout post, and sat, leaning the unconscious elf against him.  He smoothed Legolas' ruffled hair, then turned to the dwarf.  Gimli raised an eyebrow in question.   "Did our elf fall down?" he asked, trying not to sound too worried.

Gandalf sighed.  "He was attacked, Gimli.  He will need a great deal of care to recover."

The dwarf walked over quietly and looked down at his comrade.  He stood still for a moment before turning back to the wizard.  "I thought elves sleep with their eyes open," he said.

Gandalf stifled a curse and bent over the elf.  Sure enough, his eyes were closed, his face pale.  Shifting carefully beneath his charge, the wizard lifted Legolas into his lap, cradling him against his chest, whispering reassurances until the next dawn. 

The elf's eyes never opened.