Title & Chapter Number: Fate's Mirror 14/?
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. The War Between the Elves and Sauron comes to a good end; Erestor is seriously wounded in battle, Glorfindel helps his friend recover.
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.
Autumn, 1701, Second Age, Eregion
The war between the elves and Sauron had waged on from the time Eregion was overrun. Finally in the autumn of the year 1701 of the Second Age, it seemed the end was near. Elrond's haven of Imladris had continued to be safe, and elves traveled from besieged lands across Middle Earth to gather there and prepare for the next assault. Gil-galad was massing forces in the west, struggling to hold the Dark Lord at the River Lhun. He sent word to the eleventh King of Númenor, Tar Minastir, who sent a fleet from Númenor to aid the elves.
With the Númenorians help, the elves were able to drive Sauron's forces southeast and a regiment sent by sea to the south was able to press the Dark Lord further east to Dagorlad. The main host that assaulted Eregion was caught between Gil-galad's forces coming eastward and Elrond's forces coming from Imladris. Precious few orcs survived to escape east.
The waning days of the year 1701 were days of recovery, rebuilding, and peace. Gil-galad returned to Lindon, Gildor remained in Eregion to oversee the recovery efforts, and he spent sometime in Imladris with his friends Erestor and Glorfindel as well.
~*~*~*~
November, 1701, Second Age, Imladris
Erestor stared out the window at the snow that fell gently upon the terrace outside his room. He shifted uncomfortably, his left hand falling to his groin. He grumbled under his breath, he was incapacitated, bed ridden, and utterly helpless. He had a few items that lay near his bed: a book, a glass and pitcher of water, a bell to ring when he needed assistance; other than those things, he was unable to do or reach anything for himself.
He supposed he should be grateful he was not dead, or maimed beyond repair. He was nearly killed in the last sortie. He was no stranger to pain; he had undergone the rights of Ansreg while serving Maedhros, but this… He shuddered when he thought about it and closed his eyes. The pain had been nearly unbearable, so bad he could not even cry out.
The orc was the largest he had ever seen and he was locked in close combat with him. Already weakened by an arrow in his right shoulder, he began to falter. With a blow that nearly shattered his hand, his sword was knocked from his grasp. The beast grabbed him by the throat and thrust a large spear into the gap between his armor and the greaves strapped to his thighs. The acrid taste of blood filled his mouth as he sputtered and choked upon it, impaled upon the large spear. In a daze he remembered seeing the bright silver point of Glorfindel's sword come through the Orc's chest from behind, heard the beasts guttural cry, then heard his friend's voice calling his name as he fell toward darkness.
The next thing he remembered, was being on a pallet on the ground. The moment his eyes opened, he howled in pain; the arrow had just been removed from his shoulder. He quaked with fever, pain mercilessly assaulting every part of his body, and underlying it all was a growing sense of numbness, of cold; he had never felt so weary in all his life. Blood was everywhere; all over him, all over the ground. His Lord was immersed in blood to his elbows, and he looked upon his stern and weathered face; his eyes were closed and his hands were upon him as he changed the healing incantation. He then remembered looking to his left to see Glorfindel. His beloved warrior was battered and bloodied, his once shining armor was covered in black and red blood. Glorfindel was kneeling by his pallet, holding his hand, tears streaming down his soot and blood stained face. He remembered watching his lips form the words, "Please… please…" then he fell into a deep sleep.
How much time had passed before he awoke again he could not be sure, but someone had told him it had been several days. His sore body swayed to and fro in the back of a wagon, and the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Glorfindel's face. "Mae Govannen, mellonamin…" had been the first words croaked out of his mouth, and the warrior laughed heartily, his red, tired eyes briefly twinkling with mirth.
Glorfindel had barely left his side until just a week hence, finally having to resign himself to his duties as seneschal. However, the Vanya still checked on him several times a day, everyday, and had moved his quarters next door to his own. Now he lie in bed, his long recovery dragging on, utterly helpless to do much of anything for himself. As the sun progressed in its path across the sky, he noted the time of day. It was time for the ritual changing of the bandages, as he liked to call it. He sighed, and closed his eyes, waiting for the ever-irritating healer to come do his worst.
"Mellonamin?"
He opened his eyes and to his horror saw Glorfindel standing before him, towels and bandages draped over one arm, a bowl of warm water and cleansing solution in the other hand.
"What are you doing here, Glorfindel?" he asked with a growing sense of apprehension.
"The healers are attending to a group of humans who were caught in a snow storm in the mountains. There are several among them, including women and children, that were exposed to the elements for far too long. Aredhel asked me to come and see to you," Glorfindel answered softly.
Erestor's face was clouded with concern with this bad news. "Will they be all right? How bad are the children?" he asked quietly.
Glorfindel slowly shook his head. "'Tis hard to tell. Several of the adults' extremities have been frozen, the healers may have to amputate some of their fingers and toes. The children seem to have been spared that ordeal, but they are nigh starved to death. Half of the household staff is occupied with attending to them as we speak, housing and feeding them." The Vanya shook his head. "This war has taken a hard toll on all of us, Erestor. Even those who were innocently trying to live out their lives."
Erestor suddenly felt guilty about the indulgent self-pity he had been immersed in earlier; seeing children or elflings suffer was never something he could take with ease. He had never needed anyone before, never wanted to, and Glorfindel was the last one in the world he wanted to need. Nevertheless, need him he did, for he could not complete the task alone.
"Have you done this before, Glorfindel?" he asked quietly.
Glorfindel nodded. "Aye, I have attended to many wounded when there were not enough healers to go around."
"Alright," he sighed. He reached down and pulled the blanket back to give his friend access to his wound.
Glorfindel set the bowl down on table beside the bed and lay the cloths beside him, then removed the pillows behind his friend's back so that he could lie flat. Erestor rolled to his right side with a wince and he put his hand on the Noldo's hip to help him steady himself. He gently raised the nightshirt, sliding it out of the way so he could access the bandage.
"Have you seen it before, mellon?" Erestor asked quietly, as he stared out the window, trying to concentrate on the snow falling outside rather than the growing sense of humiliation he felt.
Glorfindel nodded slowly. "Aye, I have. I was there when Lord Elrond first attended to you. You probably do not remember that," he answered quietly.
Erestor closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as Glorfindel helped him roll back onto his back, a quiet hissing sound coming from between his teeth.
"I am sorry, mellon," Glorfindel said gently. "I know this is uncomfortable, I will be as gentle as I can be."
Erestor nodded. "You are doing fine, Glorfindel," he answered quietly. "It is just that it still hurts when I move."
Glorfindel softly stroked his hip and answered gently, "I know." He folded the sheet, lay it between Erestor's legs to preserve his privacy, and went about removing the bandage. "You are lucky, mellonamin, very lucky. We almost lost you," the Vanya said softly.
Erestor closed his eyes as Glorfindel went about his work, he had no desire to look upon the accursed wound again. It had been one month since he was nearly killed, and still the deep puncture wound needed constant tending. The spear tip had been forged in Mordor and was tainted with poison; it had taken all of Elrond's strength and skill to bring him back. By the grace of the Valar, the spearhead had missed his vital organs, but it had punctured his lung, missing his heart on its upward path through his body by a breadth of a hair. It had been a long and arduous recovery thus far and the Noldo could feel his limbs and muscles beginning to atrophy. While he healed internally, the wound was persistent and he grew weak from lack of activity.
He pushed thoughts of his injuries away and focused on the sound of his friend's voice as he distracted him with mundane prattle about household goings on. He was surprised at how gentle Glorfindel's touch was, how soothing and comforting his presence was to him. He had always thought of the warrior as just that, a soldier, strong, somewhat brutish, though more elegant than most. However, in this moment, Glorfindel was gentle and warm, kind, thoughtful and caring, and he found the Vanya's presence to be of infinite comfort.
"There, all finished," Glorfindel said quietly as he rose from the bed and helped Erestor roll to his side and pull his nightshirt back down.
"Ai, I grow weak from lying in this bed," the Noldo grumbled as he rolled to his back.
Glorfindel dried his hands and moved the supplies aside. "I can help you with that, mellon," he answered gently. He took Erestor's left arm by the elbow and began massaging and working the muscles of his shoulder and bicep.
"Glorfindel, really, you need not…"
"Sssh…" the warrior admonished. "Can I not be of help to a dear friend? Let me help you, Erestor," he finished softly, never pausing in his work.
Erestor grew quiet and relaxed, allowing the Vanya to massage his muscles and work his fingers. When Glorfindel finished with his left arm, he moved to his right. Erestor had to admit that his touch did him a world of good, he could feel the tingling of his blood coming to the surface and his skin coming alive again. After thoroughly rubbing down both his arms, Glorfindel moved to his right leg. The warrior pulled back the covers, again folding them to respect his privacy, and began rubbing the muscles of his thigh, calf, and hamstring. Glorfindel them moved to his foot, sitting with his back to him and holding his foot in his lap.
A long staccato sigh of bliss escaped Erestor's lips as Glorfindel worked magic upon his foot. It felt so good, the Vanya's hands were obviously talented in more ways than just those of a warrior. Erestor closed his eyes and relaxed, soon drifting into reverie.
Glorfindel gently placed the foot back upon the bed and covered his friend's right leg. He looked down on the sleeping Noldo, a smile of satisfaction crossing his lips. He then folded the covers again, exposing Erestor's right side, and began bringing life back into a limb that had hardly moved in a month. When he finished his task and covered his friend's legs with the blanket, he leaned over, bestowing a gentle kiss upon Erestor's forehead. He stroked his raven hair and gazed into the Noldo's sleeping face. His fingers trailed over his brow, tracing his hairline, caressing his soft, dark brows, dancing across his cheekbones and ghosting over his lips. Every year, every day that passed he grew more fond of Erestor, and he never grew tired of watching him, looking at his beautiful face.
"Sleep well, mellonamin," he whispered and pressed a soft kiss upon his friend's lips. He closed the door quietly behind him as he left the room.
As the door clicked shut, Erestor's voice whispered, "Glorfindel…"
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