Title & Chapter Number: Fate's Mirror 8/?
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. Erestor has learned the reason for Glorfindel's melancholy, Glorfindel takes his place at Elrond's side as Erestor's peer, Gildor bestows a gift upon Glorfindel, and the elves of Lindon prepare for war.
Notes:
October, 1696, Second Age, Lindon
Lord Elrond came to see Glorfindel at Erestor's request, and was able to help cure the warrior of his persistent fatigue and sorrow. While the pain of losing Echthelion was not gone entirely, Lord Elrond's gifts, in conjunction with Erestor's friendship, made the pain much easier to bear. Glorfindel took charge of training the High King's troops, and many of the elves of Eregion knew war was coming.
A soft knock upon Glorfindel's door caused him to look up from troop and equipment rosters and he softly called for his visitor to enter. Gildor opened the door and smiled warmly as he entered the room. "I have something you might like to see, mellonamin," he said softly.
Glorfindel raised an eyebrow and set down his quill. "Really? And what might that be?"
Gildor grinned mischievously. "Well, you will just have to pry yourself away from those engrossing rosters to find out."
Glorfindel smiled and rose from his chair, following his friend from the room. As they walked down the long hallway they chatted amiably about troop training regimens, weapons stores, and general business of the realm. They arrived at the smith's workshop, and Glorfindel imagined that Gildor had some new variation of weapon to show him. When they entered, Glorfindel stopped cold.
On a large wooden stand before him hung armor unlike any in Eregion, but its image was not unknown to his eyes; it was a very close replica of the armor he wore as a Lord of Gondolin. He approached it slowly, as if in a trance, his hand reaching out and his fingers lightly tracing the finely detailed plates of armor and chains of mail. A shield leaned against the base of the stand; it bore a rayed sun made of gold upon a shield of bright silver. A cloak hung across the shoulders of the armor, upon it was embroidered the flowers that were the symbol of his house. He slowly circled the stand, taking in all the details of the armor, cloak and shield, its resemblance to the original was striking.
He turned and looked at Gildor and smiled. The elf Lord smiled back at him. "A gift from Lord Elrond to you. He said that the armies of Mordor would quake in fear at the sight of Glorfindel of Gondolin riding with the host of Eriador."
Glorfindel crossed the room to his friend and embraced him. "Thank you, mellonamin," he said quietly.
Gildor smiled and answered, "I do not deserve your thanks, I have done nothing to earn it."
Glorfindel shook his head and answered, "That is not true, there are none here that would have known what my armor looked like, not to that degree of detail. The design came from you, my friend, I know it did."
Gildor pulled back from their embrace and nodded. "Alright, to that I will admit. But I am not capable of the craft required to bring the vision to life, for that your thanks need go to our smith, Agladir."
Glorfindel turned and placed his hand over his heart, bowing his head in thanks and respect for the smith's craft. "Hannon le, hir nín," he said softly.
Agladir bowed in return and answered, "It was an honor, Lord Glorfindel. I will have it delivered to your quarters this afternoon."
Gildor took his friend by the arm and led him from the smith's workshop. "Come, mellon. Let us take our lunch by the river." The two friends walked out of the smith's shop, arm in arm.
~*~*~*~
"My Lord, a herald from the east has arrived. He claims to be a member of Oropher's court and the Prince sent him. He was told to ask for you."
Erestor looked up from his ledger and acknowledged his assistant. "Send him in."
The herald entered and bowed low, his garments and visage spoke of his hard and long journey from the east. "My Lord, I have been sent by Prince Thranduil with news that is of interest to you and your Lord Elrond."
Erestor furrowed his brow, he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that he was about to receive news he did not want to hear. "I will hear this news."
The herald relayed a message that was of grave importance to the High King. The elves of Greenwood were under attack by Sauron's forces. The Dark Lord had rebuilt his army and began his assault on Middle Earth. The elves of Lórien were fortifying their defenses in case Oropher's forces were over run, and it was expected they would be, they were grossly outnumbered. The herald had warned both Amroth and Celebrimbor on his way to inform the High King, he would depart Lindon and make for the Gray Havens to warn Círdan as well.
The herald departed and Erestor remained behind for just a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in. The herald informed him the sun had risen almost thirty times since he departed Greenwood, and if the attack was as fierce as he had described, then it was likely Oropher's forces were already overwhelmed and Lórien would now be under attack. They would be lucky to reach Celebrimbor in time. Lord Elrond's fears were realized, Sauron had gained great power. He rose from his chair, calling to his assistant to gather Glorfindel and Gildor in the council chambers. It appeared they were going to war. He left his offices to seek out Lord Elrond and the High King.
~*~*~*~
Glorfindel reclined on the side of a grassy hill with Gildor by his side. They lay upon a wide blanket and idly sipped mead and nibbled on the various delicacies that Gildor had gathered.
"I am going to lose my warrior's form if you keep feeding me like this, mellon," Glorfindel chided.
Gildor chuckled and popped a ripe cherry in his mouth. "A little extra padding never hurts. At any rate, you are almost the vision of the soldier you once were, you have been entirely too thin."
Glorfindel laughed and tossed a strawberry at his friend who laughed and threw it back in return. His laugher faded, but a smile remained and he asked quietly, "Why do you have no lover, mellon?"
Gildor smiled and looked at the ground before answering, "I guess I have not found one that inspires me so."
Glorfindel nodded and looked up at the bright clouds traversing the sky. "That is reasonable. But there are many fair elves here in Lindon, not a one of them has caught your eye?"
"Aye, there are many, and there are several I find attractive to look upon, but none have inspired me to action."
Glorfindel lay back and folded his hands behind his head as he closed his eyes, a broad smile crossing his lips. Gildor looked at the warrior and questioned softly, "And whom might you be thinking of in this moment?"
Glorfindel opened his eyes and smiled at his friend. "A beautiful young elf I hope to meet again, one I hope to make amends with."
Gildor lay down next to his friend. "Ah, that would be the Prince Thranduil. He was passing fair, I have to agree. The two of you must have made a delicious vision, all golden hair and ivory skin tangled together amidst silken sheets." Glorfindel's eyes widened and the Noldo continued, "Deep moans, soft sighs… I am sure it was a thing of rare beauty."
"Gildor!" the warrior exclaimed. "What makes you say these things?"
Gildor laughed and drew his finger along Glorfindel's now bright pink cheek. "One can use one's imagination in lieu of having the real thing." He smiled and rolled to his side. "What is this? My warrior friend is a prude? The great and powerful Glorfindel blushing like an elf maiden?"
Glorfindel rose to his elbows and furrowed his brow, but his lips curved into a smile nonetheless. "I am not a prude, and I am certainly NOT an elf maiden. You, however, are a wanton rascal, a wicked miscreant that I would do better to avoid."
Gildor laughed softly. "Now what fun would there be in that? Your life would be so very boring. Do not take me wrong, I love Erestor as much as you, but he is so serious an elf. Someone in your life needs to make you laugh, do they not?"
Glorfindel reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Gildor's face. "Aye, mellonamin, they do, and you fill that role quite well."
"'Tis my honor, my Lord," Gildor chuckled.
Their lighthearted moment was broken as Erestor's assistant came running up the hill. "My Lords, my Lord Erestor is requesting your presence in the council chambers immediately."
They both sat up and looked at each other with concern, they knew this could not mean anything good. They quickly gathered their things and hurried toward the council chambers.
~*~*~*~
Lord Elrond sat next to the High King, with Erestor at his side. "We must assemble our forces and ride to Celebrimbor's aid, if we are fortunate Amroth and his forces will be able to hold them back long enough for us to reach him."
Gil-galad sat at the head of the table, rubbing his brow with his left hand. "And what of Amroth and his people? What of Oropher and the elves of Greenwood? Are we to leave them to their fate? Leave them to fight alone?" he asked quietly.
Glorfindel and Gildor entered the chamber and heard the King's reply. Glorfindel felt his heart skip at the mention of the peril that the elves of Greenwood were in.
Elrond leaned forward and placed his hand over the King's own. "My Lord, we cannot traverse the distance and cross the mountains in time. It has been nearly thirty settings of the sun since the herald said Oropher and his soldiers came under attack, they are surely overrun by now. All we can do is hope they withdrew before the casualties were too great, Greenwood is large, there are many places a wood elf can hide. As for Amroth and his people, we can not reach them in time; even by the grace of the Valar."
Glorfindel approached the table and protested. "We must try, my Lord. We cannot leave them to die. Oropher will not withdraw, he will not yield, not unless he has no other choice."
Lord Elrond looked at the warrior, a mixture of hopelessness and frustration upon his face. "What would you have me do, Glorfindel? Elves cannot sprout wings and fly to their aid, we can only do what we are able to help those we can reach." He turned his attention back to the High King when the warrior interrupted.
"So we are to abandon our kin then? Leave them to Sauron's evil? Simply because we have not the spirit to try? If we can contact Oropher, we can bring his troops together with Amroth's troops, together we can beat this back."
Elrond held on to his temper by a thread. He appreciated the warrior's dogged determination and realized where this insistence came from; he was worried for his former lover as well as being concerned for fellow elves. "And how to get to them, Glorfindel? What happens if we meet armies of Orcs while in the mountains? How do we fight them in the narrow mountain passes? We will be vulnerable, Sauron has spies of all types, he will know of our approach to Eregion long before we arrive."
Glorfindel clenched his fists; he could not stand by and argue battle tactics while his kin fell in death. "I know something of mountain warfare, lest you forget, my Lord. I will take a small number of riders with me; we will traverse the mountain pass and reach Oropher and Amroth. We can bring what is left of their armies to Eregion using Redhorn Pass. We can launch a rear assault in the event Sauron's forces have over run Amroth's line. They will be trapped between your forces and those from the east. The mountain pass is too steep and narrow to allow escape."
Elrond opened his mouth to protest when the King held up his hand. "Very well. Glorfindel, take the riders you need and make haste to Greenwood, gather the forces and meet us in Eregion. Elrond, prepare the rest of the army to ride east to aid Celebrimbor. We have not much time, we ride at dawn." He rose from his chair and left the council chambers.
Erestor watched the exchange with cool detachment. While he understood the motivation behind Glorfindel's offer, he had to admire the warrior's tenacity in wanting to come to the aid of those that seemed impossible to save. He supposed Glorfindel saw in himself one that was a lost cause, and that drove him to say what he had. From a pure battle tactic and logistical standpoint, what Glorfindel proposed was not likely to succeed; but then, there had been more than one unlikely victory in history. Lord Elrond had proposed the plan that was most likely to succeed, and in the end, he would probably be correct. But how would they live with themselves if they left Oropher and Amroth's people to torture and death. One thing that had not been discussed was what would happen to those in the path of Sauron's armies once they were driven back. Erestor knew, they would pillage and murder, torture and rape, drag as many of those who stood against them as they could back to Barad-dûr as an offering in appeasement to the Dark Lord. It would be Amroth and Oropher's people that would fall victim, and Kings and Princes would make handsome gifts to the Dark Lord, assuming they still lived.
Lord Elrond rose from his chair and looked at Glorfindel. He was not angry, but he was weary and he was more than worried about what Glorfindel and the men he took with them would find when they reached the east. The warrior had already lost one he cared for, whether or not the Vanya could bear it if he lost another was unknown. He nodded to Glorfindel, who bowed his head in respect and covered his heart with his hand, and he left the room with Erestor in tow.
Gildor placed a hand upon his friend's shoulder and smiled wearily at him. "I will come with you, mellonamin," he said softly. He wanted to be with Glorfindel in case his friend found something he feared he could not take.
Glorfindel looked at his friend and smiled in return. "You will be needed to lead the main host, Gildor. Neither Lord Elrond nor the High King can afford to lose one as valuable as you. I will only take four or five riders with me. The fewer our number, the faster we can travel and the less likely it will be that we will be seen."
Gildor knew he was right, that his place was leading his regiment and fighting at their side, but he hated to let the warrior go without him. The thought that he might not see Glorfindel again stabbed at his heart and he felt a strange sense of panic well up inside him. He pulled his friend into an embrace and softly answered, "As you wish, Glorfindel."
Glorfindel pulled back from the embrace and smiled. "Hannon le, mellonamin. It is a great comfort to have friendship such as yours." He smiled and tugged at Gildor's sleeve. "Come, help me pack for my journey."
Gildor smiled and followed the warrior to his quarters.
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