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Harla's Tale: Heart of Fire	By : NiaraAfforegate Category: +G through L > Lord of the Rings Online, The Views: 2502 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is set in the universe created by Turbine, with permission from Tolkien Enterprises. I have no affiliation with either, and no such permissions. No money is made, and no ownership of LotRO, its universe, or related media is claimed.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Tagging for this chapter includes: NC, Restraint and Forced Orgasm.
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Threatening Presence
The water had begun to ripple and quiver as the mist passed over it now, and the gloom began to rise up in the forms of murky, dripping wraiths, cast wholly from the dark water itself now, but with an eerie light that set a muted gleam to the shapes of weapons and armour that they bore. Within the fog the shades engaged them, rasping voices sounding more fervent than ever as the dark water creatures hissed and shrieked back. Harla cold see weapons biting as they slashed, but the watery forms just reformed, every bit as unconcerned as the shades were by their own attacks. Everywhere they met they clashed against each other in a furious war that left neither able to hurt the other, and amidst the sighing and creaking, the hiss and splash, Harla felt a strange sense of almost stillness fall over the area; battle raged, but at a standstill. In the midst of it, her eye was drawn to Radagast, moving down the steps and onwards into the swampy water, heedless of the way it was soaking into his robe. She moved with him, catching up, but as they pressed forward through the timeless battlefield, it felt as though they were the only ones moving at all.
Soon they had left the raised ruins behind; pillars still rose from the waters around them, but the water of the swamp had claimed every bit of dry land. A sudden hiss in front brought her eyes to a pair of water forms that had risen up free of any shades to engage them. They were focused on Radagast, and she heard one speak in a voice that made her toes curl, proclaiming that the wizard would not be allowed to progress. Harla swallowed and took her cue, darting in front of her ally and lashing out at the pair. Unlike the wights she'd fought earlier, the gloom waters didn't seem affected by the way her club passed through them, sending water flying across the swamp but achieving little else. One laughed and drove its blade at her chest; for a terrible moment, Harla caught herself wondering if her shield would actually stop the blade at all, but a splash of water as the point impacted and dispersed gave her an answer. A second later the other wraith's blade passed low across her middle and though the watery edge shattered into droplets on her armour, she felt a deep chill slice through her body, the sensation of the blade cutting deep. At once, she knew she wasn't physically hurt but, at the same time, the sensation almost drove her to her knees. She staggered, trying to resist the instinct to put an arm across her middle, and looked up to see the first one rearing back to stab at her with its blade again. Radagast was standing behind them already and she saw him reach out his hands to touch each of them. The pair registered a moment of uncertainty, then melted back into the swamp, leaving only ripples. He smiled to her and nodded softly.
“That is well, Harla. Be cautious, there will be more. Their weapons do not harm, but you felt their effects; do not let their blades find your heart, for that is how they kill. Come now, to the gates of Garth Agarwen, and Ivar.” As she stepped forward again the water seemed to drag at her, more than simply being knee-deep for her as it was. She fought on anyway, keeping up with the wizard as she strode further into the tainted lands. They went uncontested until Radagast stopped, a few minutes later. Standing just behind him, Harla could only tell that they were far deeper into the red swamp than she had ever been, or ever wished to be again. A broad pool of swamp water surrounded them, clear to the trees for many metres on all side, but a set of ancient steps rose from the waters ahead of them, with a barred iron gate at the top. Under the water, she could feel smooth, flat stone beneath her boots, covered in a thick layer of silt, and wondered just how much she could trust the footing to remain even.
The water began to rise again as the wizard approached the steps; the rolling mist hadn't penetrated this far into the ruins and there was no longer any sign of the shadowy shades around them. The four water wraiths that lifted themselves from the pool fixed on the pair without hesitation. Harla knew what she needed to do, but for a moment the fear of what she had felt before threatened to hold her back. She shook it off and jumped forward with a shout, crying out as fiercely as she could manage while she made a stroke at the nearest spirit. Radagast could quell the restless water, but it was easier for him if she could provide a proper distraction, so her reasoning went, and that was what she was going to do. Even so, a small part of her wasn't sure whether to be glad, or terrified, as her awareness of the wizard faded away and the watery forms surrounding her rose to the bait. In that moment it seemed like she truly was alone in the swamp, and as the first spirit flowed around her club and drove its blade towards her, Harla faltered, barely getting her shield up to it in time. She roared out against the feeling, turning swiftly to keep her eyes on each of them as best she could, but a sudden, sickening chill sliced down through her shield arm from behind as she did. It felt numb and cold, and a splash a moment later told her that she'd failed to keep her grip firm.
She could barely feel the arm at all, now. Jumping backwards, awkward in the heavy water, Harla turned her club over in a defensive guard but a second slice etched across her hip and she staggered to one side. The wraiths glided over the surface of the water quickly, moving around her with a speed she couldn't track; they seemed to be everywhere at once. A short swing from her club dashed another incoming blade to droplets before it could reach her and she ducked beneath the next, twisting away from it. Another lanced into her middle, from the side and the cold chill of the blade slicing through her made Harla stumbled forward, putting her empty hand down into the water with a splash as she fell to her knees. The water stilled with unnatural swiftness, and she could see the reflection of her face in the surface, inches away; teeth bared as she fought for the strength to stand again. The final strikes didn't come, however, and as she struggled to rise, a voice reached her through the cold.
“May strength return to you,” unconsciously, she nodded her head to the voice and the chill receded. Rising again, her eyes caught sight of the curve of her shield beneath the water and she grabbed for it. By the time she was on her feet again, Radagast was smiling down at her softly. “Good. Rest, little one, you have done all you can, and I thank you.” She wanted to shake her head at that statement, but the weariness in her limbs and the lingering memory of that bone-chilling cold stopped her. Once he was sure she wouldn't protest, Radagast turned back to the gate. The gloom waters were gone, and a look of stern seriousness had replaced his genial smile.
“Ivar! Enough of this! Show yourself!” Like before, his voice was heavy with command, and it seemed to sound throughout the clearing in a way that made her sure it would not go unanswered. When the response came, she found herself wishing it had. The night seemed to darken further as what small sources of light remained shrank in on themselves and the ancient iron gate ahead of them began to ratchet open on protesting mechanisms. The thump of a metal-capped staff echoed into the sound-devouring silence that had enveloped them and as Harla watched the gateway, she saw a figure approaching. It was hard to make out, at first; gaunt and thin, emaciated but tall. Even for big folk, he was tall, surely. There was a crown on his head, but as he crested the iron gate the sense of his presence rolled across the space and Harla flinched back. She couldn't make herself look at the gaunt lord any more; some force of will bowed her head from him as images of blood and war crashed through her mind. Men fighting men, spilling blood so thick it stained the lands and poisoned the rivers; hatred that burned and destroyed, rage that stopped even the dead from resting after their lifeblood was spent. She was shaking, she realised, hands and arms trembling as she turned her face away from the figure. When he spoke, she wanted to put hands over her ears, but couldn't.
“Who calls me forth? Have you come to sacrifice yourself to me like the others?” She tried to shake her head, to do something to deny the effect his presence was having on her, anything, but her body didn't want to respond. Then the overbearing will-power shifted; it seemed to to draw in on itself, then focus and she realised that Ivar must have seen Radagast. She managed to peek upwards, and sure enough the two glared at each other unblinking. Ivar spoke again, and Radagast answered, but their words seemed muffled in some way; so focused and intended for one another now that they seemed to slide past her without really registering. The feeling in the air made her want to back away, though. It was clear the two were vying their power against one another in some way that was far beyond one tiny hobbit with no business being involved in any of it.
Slowly, she tried to take a step back and away, but the water clung to her physically now, resisting her movement. She struggled to move her leg again, but the clinging grip only grew firmer in response. Then, there came the sensation of movement; liquid moving under the scales of her armour, seeping through and into her leggings, creeping, almost crawling its way up. It wasn't just the normal soak of water; every inch it gained on her legs, she could feel the pressure of it trying to control her movements spreading further. The sensation made her skin crawl, the water lukewarm and thick, and she began to struggle more forcefully against it. Her fingers gripped more tightly on her club, but there was nothing to attack; just more water all around her. A part of her was worried that the more of a scene she made, the more she risked distracting Radagast, or worse, drawing Ivar's attention, but as the water reached further up her legs, another part of her swiftly stopped caring. The nearest dry land was many metres away, but it may as well have been miles when she could barely move her legs at all. Nothing she could do seemed to affect the feeling of the water as it crept upwards, almost like hands, or fingers, working up inside her armour, through the fabric of her clothes, and against her skin.
Unable to move, Harla clenched her teeth and watched the two powerful beings vie for mastery. A moment later, her eyes squeezed shut tightly and she tried not to cry out aloud; the feeling of the water climbing her body had risen high enough to become thoroughly violating now, with clutching, pawing fingers of water pushing beneath the fabric of her clothes and undergarments without hesitation. Despite the situation all around her, her cheeks flushed hot as she tried to ignore it and focus on moving her legs. The far steps, and escape, were a world away, though, and she was sure this was only going to end if Radagast won out. The crackle of raw power in the air made it hard to tell who was getting the better of their contest, but Harla could no longer focus on it, even if she tried. She managed to take a step backwards, towards the far steps that rose from the swamp, but it didn't seem to affect the reaching waters. She could feel the tepid wetness around her middle now, and a feeling that was far too identifiable as hands running coursing fingers over her belly as though she was wearing nothing at all. Lower down was worse, as the seemingly sentient liquid tried to flood more and more of itself into her clothing, and into her, and the sensation went from exploring tendrils and fingers, to what she could only identify as far more deliberate swirling and rippling motions. It make her want to scream aloud until it stopped, and shout for whatever it was to get out of her and leave her alone, or to start blindly thrashing at the water with her club, but none of it would help, she knew.
Her cheeks burned with the shame of what the water was trying to do; she'd given up telling herself that it was unfortunate coincidence now. Instead, she fought to take another step back, though the stairs seemed no closer. Ivar was shouting something at Radagast, staff extending in a threatening gesture, but the wizard didn't seem fazed. Please let him be winning, her thoughts cried. The creep upwards had reached her chest now and it was beginning to squeeze her tightly. Her next breath was something of a shorter gasp as she struggled to take in more air. The rippling water was exploring her chest as freely as it had the rest of her, and worse shame, her body was growing hot from the relentless sensation despite everything, but by now Harla was more concerned about trying to breath deeply. The pressure was seeking to pull her down as well as restrict; she could feel the weight of it trying to drag her back to her knees, but she held firm. There was no doubt in her mind that if she fell, the pool would drown her in moments. The fluid pressing under her clothes and over her skin had grown warmer against her, and the frustrated shame she was feeling only grew as what it was doing forced the unwanted heat in her body to kindle higher, even as she knew it was trying to kill her as well. She could feel distressed tears at the edges of her eyes as she struggled to ignore the sensations and fight them off, but they continued to build in a way that even the sheer horror of the situation wasn't shutting down. Why? Her knees shook and her muscles trembled, parts of her body going tight against her will. The spread of the water had stopped at her neck-line, finding no more fabric to travel through, and had begun taking over her arms as well, but as the unwanted tension in her body grew, the danger of her collapsing into the water grew with it. She was panting, short of breath now, but the thought of taking another step was gone now; the way the water was dragging at her, and her own unsteadiness, she'd fall for certain if she tried.
Flashes of lightning split the darkness, but Harla couldn't tell what was going on. Her body was teetering on the edge now, and she held it back only by biting her lip until she tasted blood. The pain helped, but the tension in her limbs told her it wouldn't be enough to stop what was happening. Just as the edge crumbled away beneath her, a sound resonated through the clearing. It was a note, clear and bright, and she felt the liquid inside her armour vibrate and quiver. Another soft note, then a third, and the chimes began to string themselves into music. The way the water shuddered against her didn't help, and her body was intent upon completing what it had started, but the weight dragging her down faded swiftly. Cheeks aflame, Harla felt herself gasp and convulse, the rough pulses of climax crashing through her unwanted, but even as she fought to supress the feeling and hide it, her eyes were drawn to the source of the soft music and she found herself locking gaze with Khima, blue gown every bit as unsullied and clean as she'd last seen, softly plucking the strings of her harp. She was standing at the edge of the trees, just out of the circle of water and, as she played, the roiling surface of the pool stilled. Despite her best efforts, Harla's legs still buckled, but even as they did, she felt the mass of water that had invaded her armour fall away, gushing back into the pool in a splash that was masked by her own collapse. As she looked into the elf's eyes, still fighting off the aftershocks of uninvited climax, she wondered if Khima knew what had just happened to her. The other woman's eyes seemed to know everything, though, even without words, and Harla looked away, mortified.
At the centre of the pool, neither Radagast, nor Ivar seemed to have room for any other distractions as they contested, until the gaunt lord turned his eyes to the side slightly. Harla was sure he must have caught sight of Khima, and tried to raise one hand to call a warning, but Ivar just swept his staff wide and made a frustrated sound.
“Enough of this! I shall waste my time with you no more! The Red-maid shall have you all, soon enough!” With a last snarl, he retreated back through the iron gate, further into Garth Agarwen itself, but Radagast didn't follow. Instead, he sighed and leaned on his own staff for a moment, watching the now empty gateway.
“Do not trust your power over her,” he murmured to the air. “She shall be freed from your clutches soon enough.” With a last shake of his head, the old wizard stood and turned back to where Harla was picking herself up. Head down, she couldn't bring herself to look at the wizard, at least a little fearful of what he might read in her eyes. She heard the water splash, though, and a moment later felt a gentle finger under her chin, lifting her head. Radagast had knelt down in front of her and was still smiling, though he looked more tired now than he had. Harla was all too keenly aware of how hot her cheeks still felt, and of the tear tracks marking them.
“That creature commands great power, Harla. Do not judge yourself harshly for the effect his presence had upon you. I do not doubt you felt great fear, but your heart held strong and you did not flee from him. Such would have given him pleasure to see, and I am sure that seeing even one so small as you standing firm against him instead must certainly have been a burr to his concentration. Your bravery has helped much, protected much, and saved many lives today.” While a part of her felt better to hear his words, they also told her that the kindly old wizard wasn't aware of how the water had attacked her, and that she couldn't have run away in the first place. Rather than speak, she drew a deep breath, then nodded. Seeing her response, Radagast stood again and began to walk back towards the far steps of the pool. Khima met him on them, having made her way around the tree line carefully. She inclined her head in response to his greeting.
“I hope you'll forgive my intrusion, old friend. I did not expect Ivar to retreat so easily. I suspect he'll fortify himself inside the ruins now, somewhere near Naruhel's spring. The swamp was not playing fair, and I sought to even the score, but I think I might have made our work here harder now.” Radagast waved away her apology with one hand, half turning while he waited for Harla to catch up. She hurried to the steps after them both, but didn't trust herself to speak until she had her composure back. She sniffed, but didn't have any part of her clean enough to wipe her face with. composure would be a while coming.
“We have done well this day. Ivar's spreading corruption is stayed, at least for the moment, and I have both of your help to thank for this. Let us return to the Eglain for now. There are hurts to be tended and rest to be taken before we can talk about ending this evil forever. We shall not talk about it here; come, shall we return to the encampment?” To Harla's surprise, Khima shook her head, then reached down to rest one hand lightly on her shoulder. The touch was comforting, but it still made her worry.
“You go ahead, we'll have plenty of time to catch up soon, my friend. I must have a word with Harla first.” Harla looked up at Khima, rather than agreeing directly; mostly she was nervous about what the other woman wanted to talk about privately, and couldn't think of any way the conversation could avoid what had happened. For his part, Radagast just nodded, then walked on ahead of them while Khima turned and took a casual seat on the cracked steps. She held her harp in her lap, rather than set it down on the stone, but watched Harla carefully until she felt herself begin to fidget. A part of her wanted to plead that it wasn't her fault, and that she hadn't been able to stop it, while another part of her wanted to pretend that it hadn't happened at all, or feign ignorance. The rest of her just didn't want to talk about it at all, but she didn't really suppose that this talk could ultimately be about anything else. Eventually, Khima spoke.
“I'm something of a minstrel, you know? When I travel, I like to play for the people I meet, or re-tell some of the epic stories that they're all familiar with. It is a very enjoyable way to get around, I find. Would you like to know something, Harla?” Sitting on the dilapidated steps, neat and perfectly, Harla couldn't help noticing just how perfect the other woman seemed. Khima didn't have a hair out of place, and her dress was completely unsullied, despite their surroundings. Her skin was pale and perfectly smooth and even, unlike the darker tan of her own skin, and the playful smile curling the corner of her lips was the picture of friendliness and reassurance. In truth, Harla felt like she must look as much a hideous, defiled wreck as she felt, compared to the elf in front of her. Cautiously, she nodded.
“I know a very great many stories that tell of countless heroes and great people, but I've also met a number of them, and even been a small, forgettably helpful part of a few of their adventures and triumphs. The stories might be dramatic and heroic... but for every victorious moment, there is a very great deal that those stories do not tell, and do not record. A great many things that most people don't want to hear about, or don't wish to think about. Things most people would prefer to pretend didn't happen, or weren't considerations.” Softly, she plucked a few notes on her harp, turning her eyes to it as she did, then looked back to Harla. “People want to believe that the world isn't as dark or as cruel a place as it can be at times. They want to believe that even the forces of darkness have ends they won't go to, or tricks they won't exploit. They want to believe that even evil has standards, because who wants to contemplate the sorts of things that are the alternative? Do you understand me, Harla?” Opposite her, Harla bit her lip, then immediately winced as her teeth touched where she had broken the skin earlier. Did she understand? She sat on the steps beside the other woman as she turned the words over in her mind.
“I think so.” Sitting down made her aware of how exhausted her limbs felt, all over again. “You're telling me, the stories that people want to hear get made from real villains... but real villains aren't like the stories that people want to hear.” Khima nodded and reached out to rub the smaller girl's shoulder.
“Yes, but heroes too. Real heroes are just people doing the best that they can, like you did today, even when what they face tries horrific tricks to stop them... tricks that the stories don't mention. That the stories will never mention.” Rather than respond, Harla just nodded her head again slowly. The words didn't exactly make her feel better. She was relieved, in one sense. Khima knew exactly what had happened, that much was clear, but she wasn't blaming her for it, and was trying to be reassuring instead. On the other hand, her reassurance was the admission that this kind of thing was to be expected, which was no comfort at all.
“As long as you understand, Harla. There is no shame. Now, are you going to be alright? That kind of trespass is no easy thing to deal with for most.” Khima was watching her carefully, and Harla turned her head to look at her properly. Maybe it was because of how untouched the elf herself seemed, but a small part of her wanted to shock the other woman.
“That really wasn't anywhere close to the worst violation I've had of that type. I'll be fine.” For a moment, she was rewarded to see the other woman's eyebrows jump up, eyes widening slightly, before she closed them with a sigh and rubbed her back again.
“I'm sorry to hear that, then, but I am also glad that you seem to be healthy in mind and heart, despite it. Niara was right when she said you were a strong woman. Well, we should walk back together. You are tired, but we will be safe together.” She stood and brushed off the back of her gown, even though it didn't appear to need a brush at all. “I can only imagine that you probably want to bathe after this outing.” There was a perverse humour to that, and Harla couldn't stop the short, mirthless laugh that escaped in response to the comment.
“As long as it's not in a river.” Shaking her head, she stood as well and rolled her shoulders once before sliding her shield onto her back. A bath would be good though, there was no question of that. The swamp seemed strangely placid to Harla, compared to earlier, as the two made their way back.
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Harla's Tale: Heart of Fire