Title & Chapter Number: Fate's Mirror 11/?
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. The host of Gil-galad reaches Eregion and finds it under siege, Glorfindel and a handful of Silvan archers make for the borders of Lorien.
Notes: I have yet to read the Unfinished Tales or History of ME, so I know there will be inaccuracies in this - so consider this AU.
November, 1696, Second Age, Eregion
By the time the host of Gil-galad arrived in Eregion, the haven was already under siege. They rode into battle, banners held skyward, shouting their war cry. Elrond led a regiment of swordsmen and archers, as did Gildor and Erestor. Their forces, combined with what still barely held the refuge, was yet short of the number of Orcs that had flooded in from the east and north. The battle raged well into the night before the host of Lindon could breach the swarm of evil that surrounded the city. They drove back the orcs just beyond the city gates and there came a lull in the battle as both sides regrouped.
Gil-galad climbed the now precarious winding stairway to Celebrimbor's chambers, most of the buildings in the city had been destroyed. The Lord of Eregion stood bent over his desk, his hand spread wide as he looked over the list of the fallen. His long, dark hair hung straight, surrounding his face like a shroud. He raised his head and looked up as Gil-galad entered and he smiled wryly.
"'Tis good to see you, Cousin."
Gil-galad crossed the room and clasped his cousin on the shoulder. "I am only sorry it took us so long to arrive. My men have driven the orcs out of the city and now hold the city walls. We have a brief respite before they launch another attack."
Celebrimbor sank into his chair and sighed. "Our losses have been great, cousin. They were upon us with little warning, in the middle of the night. A rider was dispatched from Oropher's people, but he arrived just ahead of the marauders. I fear Oropher waited too long to send him. Had we known his realm had been under attack, we could have better prepared our defenses. I have had no word from Amroth or his people. I fear the worst."
Gil-galad sat in a chair across the large desk from his old friend and cousin, rubbing his brow with his right hand. Celebrimbor noted the absence of the ring from his hand and questioned him. "Where is the gift I gave to you, cousin? Where is Vilya?"
Gil-galad patted his breast. "Safe here, beneath my armor. I dare not wear it upon my finger, not with the Dark Lord's powers grown so strong."
The elf Lord nodded. "'Tis a wise decision, mellonamin. But do not let it from your sight, keep it with your person always."
Gil-galad smiled, his gray eyes glittering in the candlelight. "I will, you have my word." He sighed. "Now, let us put our heads together for some battle strategy." He turned to his herald and sent him to fetch Elrond, Erestor and Gildor. He turned back to his cousin and sighed, "Alas, one of my finest is not here with me now. He has ridden to the aid of Oropher and Amroth, but I fear he is too late."
Celebrimbor smiled and relaxed back in his chair. "And who would this be? You have already sent for your Captains."
Gil-galad smiled devilishly and answered, "My secret weapon. Glorfindel."
Celebrimbor's eyes widened and he answered softly, "Glorfindel? The Glorfindel?"
Gil-galad nodded slowly and smiled. "Yes, one in the same. I fear he underestimates his own power; but when Sauron sees him, the same elf who slew one of his master's demons in Cirith Thoronath, then he will know his folly in this war. He will know just how strong we have become." He sighed and looked out the window, smoke clouded the air. "I only wish Mandos had seen fit to send Echthelion back as well, then we would be truly insurmountable."
Celebrimbor smiled and nodded in agreement. "Oh to have all the great fallen warriors on our side now, Fingolfin, Thingol, Turgon…"
Gil-galad nodded sadly, placing his hand over his heart as he whispered a short prayer for their fallen kin. "Aye, so many fine warriors lost. But we will not fail their legacy, we will not allow Sauron to overtake Middle Earth."
Celebrimbor smiled broadly and clapped his hand upon the desk. "No! We will not. By the Valar, we will not." His gaze drifted upward to see three Noldo enter his chambers.
Upon crossing the threshold, Elrond, followed by Erestor and Gildor, paused and they bowed their heads and covered their hearts. Elrond spoke first, "My Lords, the perimeter is ours, all orcs have been driven back beyond the city walls with the exception of the few we have taken prisoner. Thus far, we have yet to extract information from them."
Gildor nodded and added, "True, but Lord Erestor has yet to make an attempt. I dare say, they will happily tell all they know before he is finished with them."
The corners of Erestor's lips turned up in a wry smile before his expression grew somber once again.
Gil-galad rose and greeted his captains, clasping each of their hands. "Well done, my captains. Now," he turned and motioned to the chairs beside him. "To work."
~*~*~*~
November, 1696, Second Age, Greenwood
Glorfindel blinked back from reverie and realized he had fallen asleep. He tilted his head down and gazed upon the mass of flaxen silk that lay spread across his chest. Thranduil still slept peacefully, his breathing more regular, the quiet rasping sound that had been a result of the fever now gone. He brushed the Prince's hair back from his forehead and found his skin cool. He sighed gratefully; it appeared the fever had abated. It was dawn following the day he came upon the weary band of Silvan elves and their Sindar King and Prince. He realized that he and Thranduil had slept the previous afternoon and through the night in their peaceful refuge. His arms were stiff, as was his back from lying in the same place for so long, but he did not mind; the Prince's body had kept him warm upon the cool ground. He drew Thranduil's cloak closer around his shoulders and stroked his flaxen hair, placing a feather-light kiss upon the top of his head.
The Sinda Prince was indeed beautiful, perhaps one of the most beautiful elves he had ever laid eyes upon, and he possessed a kind nature. Oropher was not nearly as stern and unreasonable as he imagined he would be; but perhaps he was feeling a bit humble at the moment, considering the state of his realm. **This war will humble us all…** he thought to himself, and he sighed, continuing to stroke the length of hair beneath his hand.
"You have done my son much good." A quiet voice broke his musings.
He looked up to see Oropher standing at the edge of their refuge, leaning upon an oaken staff to steady himself. He moved to wake Thranduil and the King held up his hand.
"No, let him rest. He has been through far too much as of late." Oropher moved toward them and shakily sat down upon a fallen log. He spoke softly, "I fear I was not as understanding as I should have been when his mother asked my leave to return to Valinor. I was angry and my son bore the brunt of it." He sighed. "I have tried to teach him to be strong, to teach him he can not be so generous and kind to all those who cross his path. One day, he will be King, and our realm grows more dangerous as time passes. My people are a suspicious and close knit clan, they do not take to outsiders well, and consequently we have become somewhat isolated from our kin to the west. I fear my son will inherit a violent reign, that war and strife will define his life. He will not survive it unless he learns to be strong, to need no one."
Glorfindel answered quietly, "But, my Lord, kindness and compassion are the marks of a great ruler. Your subjects are loyal to you and hold you in high regard, surely that is because they love you as their King, as their shepherd. You are their father, in many ways."
"And as their father, I must be strong, I must be unwavering in my conviction. They must know that they will receive my love as well as my discipline when they go astray. Thranduil is too kind, too gentle. He must grow stronger; he will lead in my stead." He waived his hand. "I worry too much, I think. My son has had to grow up far too fast for one of his short years." He blinked and looked up at the sky. "I see by the way you hold him, by the way you touch him, that you care for him deeply. And he loves you in return, though he tries to hide it from me. He will need to provide an heir, Glorfindel. I have nothing against those who seek love with those of their own sex. Contrary to what is believed, I am not a barbarian. But my son will need an heir one day, as I need him now, and another male cannot provide this to him." He leaned forward and looked the warrior in the eye. "What would you have me do, Glorfindel? Would you have me tell him to forsake his duty to his own people?"
Glorfindel swallowed, feeling a lump grow in his throat. "Nay, my Lord, I would not. I do care for your son, but my own path leads away from his, away from this great forest. I am bound by my service to the High King and to Lord Elrond; from that, I cannot waiver."
Oropher nodded and smiled sadly. "Then we understand one another, that is good." He rose slowly, leaning on his staff. "I want to thank you, Lord Glorfindel, for your assistance to my people and to myself. I also want to thank you for the kindness and affection you bear for my son; he will be a better elf for it." The King slowly turned and left the clearing, leaving Glorfindel and Thranduil alone once again.
The Vanya knew Oropher's words were true, that Thranduil would one-day need to provide an heir. He had known all along that they could never be together, that each was meant for something other than this peace and bliss he felt now. He squeezed the Prince a little tighter, wanting to hold him close in the short time they had left together.
He felt Thranduil stir against him and he sighed; he would miss this, very much. He managed a smile as Thranduil lifted his head, his bright sapphire eyes gazing into his own.
"You are still here," the Prince whispered. "How long have I slept?"
Glorfindel brushed his hair back from his forehead. "Through the night, it is morning, mellonamin."
Thranduil rose slowly and sat up, rubbing his face and looking around him. "I dreamt my father was here, that he was speaking to you."
Glorfindel sat up and tucked a braid behind Thranduil's elegantly pointed ear. "It was not a dream, he was here, he was speaking to me."
Thranduil cocked his head and reached out, caressing the warrior's face. "What did you speak of?"
"I told him my men and I would see you safely to the caves, then we would ride for Lorien."
Thranduil rose to his feet and offered the warrior his hand. "I am coming with you, I am the best archer of my people."
Glorfindel accepted the offered hand and rose to his feet as well. He brushed the grass from his leggings and answered softly, "You must stay here, your father still needs you, Thranduil."
Thranduil furrowed his brow and retorted, "But you need me as well."
Glorfindel placed his hand upon the Prince's shoulder. "Not as much as your father needs you. These are your people, Thranduil, they need your protection."
The Prince pulled away and looked at the ground. "So you send me away again. I should have known this would happen." He stepped backward, away from Glorfindel as the warrior reached out for him. "Fine. You and my father have obviously decided what is best for me and I will comply like a good son." He raised his head and looked Glorfindel in the eye. "We best get on with it, daylight is wasting." He turned on his heel and left the warrior standing alone in the clearing.
~*~*~*~
Thranduil barely spoke to Glorfindel as they made their way toward the caves. Oropher gave the warrior a supportive look and walked slowly beside his son, his strength returning gradually. Upon reaching the caves, Thranduil busied himself with seeing his people safely inside and storing the meager provisions they had managed to rescue from their home. Glorfindel tried to speak to him but the Prince avoided him. Finally, he and his men were ready to depart. He stood at the mouth to the caves and said farewell to the King.
Oropher smiled gently and clasped the warrior on the shoulder. "He is hurt and angry. Do not fear, he will recover; he will come to see this was for the best. He will not always harbor such anger for you, Glorfindel."
Glorfindel nodded and bowed his head. "Best of luck to you and your people, my Lord. May the Valar keep you safe."
"And you, my brave warrior friend. Valar's speed on your journey." Oropher raised his hand in farewell as Glorfindel, his men, and those of Oropher's archers who were to accompany him rode out of the forest.
Thranduil sat upon the hillside, watching the warrior and his men ride toward Lorien. His heart ached and he wrapped his arms around his stomach, a tear falling from his eye as they disappeared into the trees. "I will miss you…" he whispered. "Namarie." He rose from his seat and climbed down the hillside, entering the cave and returning to his duty.
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