Title & Chapter Number: Fate's Mirror 3/?
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website:
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: do not own these characters, they are the property of Tolkien, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this…
Warnings: This story is rated NC-17 and contains male slash pairings and explicit sexual content. If you find this offensive, or you are under-age, I strongly suggest you stop now.
Betas: Larian Elensar
Cast: Erestor, Glorfindel, Gildor, Thranduil
Timeline: SA
Spoilers: None
Summary: Set during the second half of the second age. Reincarnated Glorfindel returns to Lindon from the Halls of Mandos to pledge his service to the High King.
Notes:
April, 1693, Second Age, Lindon
Gildor stood before the small group of Sindar, comprised of six males and three females. The males were battered and bloodied, and the females were still wide-eyed with fear. There was female among them who was critically wounded and Gildor instructed his guard to take her directly to the healers. As they drew away, the remaining two females and a young male elf, no more than one hundred years of age followed; he was badly wounded himself, but not mortally so. Gildor and his guard escorted the rest of the elves into the hall and called for more healers to treat the wounded and chambermaids to help feed, bathe, and house those who were not seriously wounded.
He sat at a long table, with whom he thought to be their leader, an elf named Amras. "What happened to you, Amras?" he asked quietly.
The elf Lord looked at Gildor, his expression conveyed weariness and sorrow. "We were ambushed by orcs, warg riders. Most of our horses were killed along with ten of our warriors. We are travelling west to the Grey Havens. The Queen travels to Valinor and we are her escort; we have her son amongst us." He sighed and looked at the ground. "That was she whom you sent to the healer."
Gildor's eyes widened and he looked back over his shoulder toward the healer's quarters. He turned back to Amras as the elf continued.
"Her son insisted on travelling with her, during the attack he tried to protect her, but was wounded, and we were forced to make a choice as to who to save first, the Queen or the heir to the kingdom. I chose as I thought the King would have wanted, I instructed our men to save the Prince first. We were able to save the Queen, but she has been severely wounded."
Gildor nodded. "Go, check on your Queen, our healers will do all they can to save her."
Amras rose and bowed before Gildor. "Thank you, my Lord. We are in your debt."
Gildor rose and returned to his quarters to inform Erestor of the evening's events. ~*~*~*~
Erestor sat in a wide chair, watching the sleeping warrior. Glorfindel sighed and mumbled in his sleep; his sighs soon turned to moans as he began to stir. The Noldo rose from his chair and crossed the room to the bed, gently sitting on the side of it as he watched the warrior in his fitful sleep. "Why? Why would they do this to you?" he whispered. "Could they not have sent your spirit back anew? Why burden you with so much pain and death?"
Glorfindel cried out softly and sat bolt upright, his chest heaving as he panted for air, a thin sheen of sweat upon his skin. He turned his confused gaze to the Counselor, and Erestor saw his azure eyes glisten with unshed tears.
"Do you have this dream each time you sleep?" the Counselor asked softly.
Glorfindel took a deep breath and nodded, his mussed braids falling forward. Erestor reached up and gently took down the warrior's braids, combing through his hair with his fingers. "I do not know what to do to help you, Glorfindel," he whispered. "I am but a soldier, a diplomat, I know nothing of the healing arts."
Glorfindel looked at the bed and sighed. "I fear there is no help to be had, my Lord. What is done is done, there is no remedy."
Erestor furrowed his brow and laid his hand on the warrior's leg. "Such a defeatist attitude for a warrior. Where is your fighting spirit, Glorfindel?" He sighed. "Gildor and I would be your friends, you have but to ask and we will do whatever we can to help."
Glorfindel looked up at him and quietly answered, "What is there to be done? I cannot change my lot in life, I did not ask for this Erestor. `Twould have been better had I stayed dead."
Erestor shook his head. "Nay, I disagree, Glorfindel. This is a new start for you, a chance to do all that you never had the chance to do before, a chance to learn from your previous life. Our lives are what we make them, mellonamin (my friend), make no mistake about that."
Glorfindel smiled weakly. "I am being pathetic." He sighed. "You are correct, Erestor. This is my chance, my chance to live my life as I would have had I not been burdened before." He patted the Counselor's hand. "Now, if I could only get some sleep."
Erestor smiled. "Perhaps a nice goblet of fine brandy would help."
Glorfindel smiled in return. "Yes, I do believe that is just the remedy."
Erestor rose from the bed. "I will fetch it for you, I know Gildor keeps some here."
Glorfindel made to rise. "You need not wait on me, my Lord. I am not ill."
Erestor put up his hand. "Nonsense, let me do this for you. I need to feel like I am of some use."
Glorfindel smiled. "Alright then. Le hannon, hir nín (Thank you, my Lord)."
Erestor smiled and left the room to search for the brandy. ~*~*~*~
When Gildor returned to his quarters, Glorfindel was once again asleep and Erestor sat in the chair across from the bed, watching him. He placed his hand on the Counselor's shoulders and whispered, "How does he sleep, my Lord?"
Erestor smiled and mumbled to himself, "Beautifully…"
Gildor raised an eyebrow, hearing more than the Counselor intended. He pretended he had not and replied, "Pardon?"
Erestor took a deep breath and looked up at the elf Lord. "Peacefully, at last. I gave him some of your brandy, that seemed to do the trick."
Gildor nodded. "Aye, that will do the trick indeed. I think you should come speak with our newly arrived guests, my Lord. There is one among them that should have an audience with the High King."
Erestor rose from the chair and replied, "Who is it, Gildor?"
"Thranduil Oropherion, and the Queen, Idril. The Queen has been seriously wounded in an orc attack, we do not know if she will live. The Prince was wounded as well, but he will survive his injuries."
Erestor grabbed his cloak and made for the door. "What are they doing here?"
Gildor answered, "They were on their way to the Havens, the Queen was to sail west."
"Where are they now?"
Gildor held the door open for Erestor as he put on his cloak. "The Queen and her son are with the healers. Their Captain, Amras, stands watch."
"This does not bode well for already strained relations between the High King and King Oropher. If his wife does not survive this, I fear he will blame us."
Gildor narrowed his eyes, knowing Erestor was correct, but failing to see the logic. However, logic was not a quality that Oropher was known to possess in great quantities. He closed the door behind them as he followed Erestor to the infirmary.
~*~*~*~
Thranduil Oropherion sat on a stool beside his mother's prone body, holding her hand. He was numb, having all but ignored the healers as they attended to his wounds, cleaning and bandaging the cuts and removing an arrowhead from his arm. Her breathing grew more and more shallow, her skin increasingly cold, and all he could do was hold her hand. He was vaguely aware of the healers scurrying around them, trying to do all they could to save her; but he knew, they were too late.
"I am sorry, Naneth…" he whispered to her unconscious form. "I failed to protect you, I let them take me first. Why can it not be me who lies in your place?" He took a deep shuddering breath. "I swear to you, I will kill every last orc in Arda to avenge your murder, or I will die trying."
Erestor and Gildor entered the room quietly, not wanting to disturb the young Prince in his moment of grief. Both Noldo had seen enough battle to know the look of one who was dying, and they could see she was rapidly slipping away.
Thranduil heard the last breath escape her body, a long, drawn out shuddering sound, and her limp hand slipped from his grasp. His tears wet the floor beneath his feet and he slowly rose from his stool, only to collapse into Gildor's arms.
Gildor carried him to a narrow cot as the healers rushed to his side. They informed both him and Erestor that the Prince would recover, that he had collapsed from grief. Erestor and Gildor quietly left the Prince to recover and returned to speak with Amras.
~*~*~*~
Glorfindel sat up in Gildor's bed, rubbing his eyes. He had slept for several hours and slept deeply, and he stretched his still awakening limbs as he looked around the room. The elf Lord's quarters were quiet and he quickly ascertained he was alone. He slowly rose from the wide bed and pulled on his clothes, sitting on the side of the bed as he pulled his boots up. He crossed to the bureau and looked in the mirror, starting to re-braid his hair before giving up and deciding to return to the barracks as he was. He wrote a note of thanks to Gildor for his hospitality and closed the door behind him as he left.
He barely avoided colliding with a chambermaid who gave him a strange look before he continued down the hall. As he rounded a corner he crashed into a young male elf and he grasped his arms to keep him from falling backward. He winced as he heard the elf hiss and saw the bandage upon his arm and immediately apologized, "Forgive me, meldir (friend), I did not see you coming."
He furrowed his brow as he looked into the younger elf's face, his skin was flushed and his eyes red. He touched the young elf's cheek and his skin felt a bit clammy and he brushed his flaxen hair away from his face. "Are you alright, pen neth (young one)?"
The younger elf looked into the Vanya's azure eyes and whispered, "I think so, I am trying to find the door. I wish to leave, I must find my father."
Glorfindel shook his head and replied, "You are in no condition to be traveling anywhere." He placed a supportive arm around the young elf and led him back to Gildor's quarters. "Come, you need to lie down, you need to see a healer."
The young elf vainly tried to pull away. "No! I do not want to lie down! I have seen the healer, I want to go home!"
"Ssshh…. Alright, pen neth, no more healers. Come, I will take care of you, you will go home soon enough." He guided the young elf into Gildor's quarters, closing the door behind him. He gently guided him to the bed and peeled off the filthy tunic he wore and retrieved the nightshirt he himself had worn. "Come, put this on and remove your soiled clothes."
The young elf did as instructed, merely because he had no more will to fight. He stripped his tunic and leggings after kicking off his boots, and pulled the nightshirt over his head. He sank into the soft mattress and sighed as the warrior pulled the covers up around him. He breathed in the heady scent of the nightshirt; it smelled like jasmine and cloves, deliciously sweet and spicy. "Who wore this last?" he asked sleepily.
Glorfindel smiled and whispered his reply, "I did. I apologize for not providing a clean one."
The young elf smiled and whispered, "'Tis all right, you smell good." He rolled to his uninjured side and sighed as he drifted into reverie.
Glorfindel sat beside him, wondering who this radiant youth was, his fingers trailing through hair as fine as silk and bright as spun gold. He could see that he was past his majority, that he was a warrior of some sort; he had an archer's body, strong yet lean, beautiful in its efficiency. He distractedly thought it had been many years since he had seen one so purely beautiful, and he found it did his heart good to care for the young one. **Perhaps I have missed my calling,** he thought bemusedly, **Maybe I should be a healer…**
~*~*~*~
It was near dawn when he returned from reverie. He blinked to focus his eyes and was met by the most striking sapphire gaze he had ever seen. Long fingers trailed through his unbound locks and his lips curved into a smile. The youth he had literally ran into the night before was staring at him contentedly, his own pink lips gracefully curved into a smile. Despite the smile he wore, his eyes conveyed sadness and Glorfindel wondered what the cause of that sadness was. "Did you sleep well, meldir?" he asked softly.
The youth nodded and whispered, "Did you?"
Glorfindel realized it was the first time he had slept so much since being returned to his body. He smiled back. "Yes, very well. Are you feeling better?" He reached up and gently placed the back of his hand upon the youth's forehead.
The young one smiled and whispered, "Aye, I am, thanks to you." The youth took a deep breath and sighed. "Are you a Vala?" he asked softly.
Glorfindel chuckled. "Nay, not a Vala. I am of the Vanyaran kindred. And what of you?"
The youth's fingers brushed over his forehead. "A Sindar."
Glorfindel felt a strange, yet familiar sensation in his core at the touch of the youth's fingers and his breath came roughly. He blinked slowly and opened his eyes to see that the young one had moved closer, his lips were slowly reaching for his own. "What are you doing, pen neth?" he whispered.
"Thanking you…" the youth whispered in reply.
Before he could utter another word, his lips were covered by those of the young beauty. Long fingers quested inside his open shirt and he shivered as they softly brushed over his nipples. A muffled moan escaped him as he felt the youth's warm tongue slip past his lips, and he realized he was opening his mouth, drawing him in, drinking in his sweet taste. His arms encircled the lithe body; one hand traveling into the youth's mussed hair, the other down to the curve of his lower back. The plaintive moan that the youth uttered reverberated throughout his entire being as he pulled the young one closer, careful not to handle him too roughly. **By Elbereth, he is addicting…** he thought to himself as he rolled to his back, cradling the youth in his arms as he continued to yield to his onslaught. **What am I doing?** his conscience screamed at him, and he pulled away, rolling the young one to his side and scrambling from the bed.
"What?" the young beauty asked with a frown. "Did I do something wrong? Do you not find me desirable?"
Glorfindel shook his head as if he were trying to emerge from a spell. He put his hand up and softly answered, "No, you did nothing wrong. It is just…"
"Just what?"
Glorfindel looked at the young beauty, sitting there in Gildor's wide bed, the firelight causing his skin and hair to glow, the sheets pooled around his waist, the over-large nightshirt hanging off one shoulder. Never had he seen one so alluring, so decadently beautiful. He remembered Erestor's words the night before, `This is a new start for you, a chance to do all that you never had the chance to do before.' He sat back down and traced the youth's swollen lips with his fingers and sighed. "By Elbereth, you are a beauty," he whispered.
The youth smiled and reached for him, but he caught his hands and brought them to his lips instead. "You are injured, pen neth. It is too soon to be…"
The young one shook his head and smiled. "But this is exactly what I need, this is what will make me feel better."
Glorfindel smiled wryly. "Ai, you are stubborn, lirimaer."
The youth chuckled. "Yes, I get it from my father."
The warrior cocked his head and furrowed his brow. "I do not know your name…"
The youth opened his mouth to answer then stopped for a brief moment. He then replied, "Amras."
Glorfindel narrowed his eyes and replied, "Amras, is it?"
A sweetly innocent expression graced the youth's features and he replied, "Yes, Amras."
The warrior smiled despite his furrowed brow, he could tell the youth was lying, but decided not to push the matter. "Well then, Amras. I shall seek you out later, I have rounds to make and I am expected on the training grounds after the breakfast hour."
"You are a soldier?" The youth asked with a smile.
"Aye," the warrior replied with a smile.
"Then I shall find you, for I plan to request admittance to the King's archery core."
Glorfindel bit back a chuckle. "Well then, Amras, we shall be seeing more of one another."
The youth pulled the warrior close and placed a soft kiss upon his lips. "That, I promise," he whispered against the warrior's lips.
Glorfindel growled in mock frustration and rose from the bed, lacing his shirt closed. "Aiya, lirimaer (lovely one), I fear you will be my destruction." He smiled as the youth laughed. "Stay as long as you like, Lord Gildor will return soon, but he will not object to you taking your rest here."
The youth frowned. "Is Lord Gildor your lover?"
Glorfindel smiled. "Nay, I have no lover. He is but a friend."
The youth shook his head. "That will not be true for long. You and I will be lovers, I can foresee it."
Glorfindel smiled broadly. "You can now? Well, fortunate am I that my soon to be lover has been blessed with the sight." He gave the youth a quick kiss and pulled away before he could tempt him further. He left the room, casting one final glance over his shoulder and smiling at the young beauty that still sat in the middle of Gildor's bed, before closing the door.
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