Title & Chapter Number: Fate's Mirror 23/?
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. Gildor and Thranduil tarry in bed, a strange visitor comes to Greenwood, Glorfindel makes a rescue, and the Lady of Light arrives in Imladris.
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. Thanks to Orchyd Constyne for Quenya and Sindarin translations, as well as a few borrowed names.
May 1702, Second Age, Greenwood the Great
Gildor awoke, pinned to the floor in his bedroll under the weight of his lover. The Sinda lay nestled between his legs, covering him like a warm blanket. Thranduil had not left his sight, or his arms, since their first breathless kiss upon the hill over two months prior. Oropher had been less than thrilled at the prospect that his son had taken another male lover, much less a Noldorian one, but thus far he had yet to insist that Gildor leave.
Gildor played with the strands of silken gold that were spread across his chest and shoulders and he looked up through the tree boughs, watching the clouds meander across the sky. All was silent except for the sound of the light wind in the trees and the birds singing their welcome to Anor. He thought he would be happy to stay right where he was, lying upon the floor of his flet, his lover in his arms, with the forest as his home. He looked back down at his sleeping Sinda, so peaceful in his reverie, and he sighed. He had not felt so happy or content since… he closed his eyes and whispered a quiet prayer for his lost lover who had fallen doing his duty so long ago. He never thought upon Mablung without saying that little prayer.
He felt Thranduil begin to stir. The Sinda took a deep breath, his eyelids fluttered open, and a soft moan escaped him as he began to stretch. "Maer aur, meleth," Gildor said softly.
Thranduil blinked and rose up to look at his lover's face. A sleepy smile crossed his lips and he answered, "Maer aur, seron vell." He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lover's lips, a soft sigh escaping him.
Gildor smiled against his lover's mouth and caressed his hair. As Thranduil pulled away, he slid the back of his hand down his lover's cheek. "We have patrol after the morning meal, ernilen."
Thranduil groaned and flopped back to Gildor's chest, smiling half-heartedly as the Noldo chuckled at his protest. "I do not want to spend the day patrolling, I would rather spend it in your arms, melethron," he complained softly.
Gildor shook his head and smiled. "Aiya, elflings," he playfully grumbled. "I do not want to study, I do not want to work, I do not want to sit still, I…"
Thranduil sat up and captured the Noldo's bottom lip between his teeth, growling playfully. He silenced Gildor with a deep kiss, sliding his tongue inside his lover's mouth and tasting of him thoroughly.
As Thranduil released his mouth, Gildor smiled and struggled not to fall to his temptation. "You are starting something we will not be able to finish, pen-`waur," he chided huskily.
Thranduil frowned mockingly and growled in response, "I do not think I am hungry this morning… not for food anyway." He captured Gildor's mouth again and moaned as the Noldo's hands tangled in his flaxen hair.
Gildor moaned as he plundered Thranduil's mouth, and wrapped one leg around him. His lover's warm, soft skin slid against his own in a maddening dance of seduction and he knew he was lost to it. He could never refuse Thranduil anything he wanted. It appeared they would be eating upon horseback that morning.
~*~*~*~
"What is this?" Oropher inquired of his Captain.
Amdir answered, "We found her, Sire, wandering the western border. She is mad, my Lord, unable to speak or respond in anyway."
Oropher knelt in front of the waif, noting her torn and dirty garments and matted hair. She looked as though she had been living alone in the wild for months. "She was alone?" he asked softly, taking care not to disturb the traumatized young female in anyway.
"Yes, my Lord. She will not speak and does not respond when spoken to and she becomes frightened when touched." Amdir shook his head slowly as the she-elf began to rock back and forth slowly, muttering unintelligible words. "This is all she is able to do, my Lord."
Oropher reached out very slowly, his fingertips slightly grazing one shoulder. The she-elf whimpered pitifully and withdrew, and the King removed his hand. He sighed and shook his head slowly. "The healers must see to her." He frowned as he looked upon the scratches and cuts upon her fair skin, he also noted discoloration that looked like fading bruises. "After they are finished with her, have my chambermaid attend to her, find her some clean clothing and a bath, and get her fed. She looks as though she has not eaten in days."
Amdir nodded, "Yes, my Lord." He bent down and spoke to the she-elf. "Come, pen-dithen, we will take care of you. You are safe now."
The she-elf mumbled and rose to her feet, wadding her torn gown in her fists as she followed Amdir to the healer's talan.
Oropher sat down and bowed his head. He was so angry that such a thing could be done to so young an elf. The she-elf was near her majority, and had clearly been at the receiving end of some very heinous treatment. He feared her innocence had been taken as well. "Who would do such a thing?" he growled. It could not have been another elf, of that he was sure. It had to be either a man, or perhaps a dwarf, though he doubted it; dwarves had little use for that sort of thing. If it had been a raid, they would have just as soon killed her as despoiled her. No, this was the work of men or of the Dark Lord's minions. He closed his eyes and prayed that she recover from her ordeal and not fade as a result of her treatment.
~*~*~*~
"Come, meleth nín!" Gildor chided. "We are going to be late…"
Thranduil chuckled as he hopped into his boots, fumbling with the laces of his leggings as he hurriedly dressed. Gildor was already at the door to his flet, fastening the last clasps on his tunic. "My hair…" he groused, as he grabbed the brush from the low table by their pallet.
Gildor rolled his eyes and mockingly grumbled, "Vain Sinda."
Thranduil raised one eyebrow as he began quickly brushing and braiding his hair. "We would not have this problem if you would not make such a mess of it, melethron," he chided in return.
Gildor smiled wantonly and chuckled. "Well, I cannot help myself, pen-velui."
Thranduil tossed the brush upon the pallet and quickly tied off the single thick braid with a thin strap of leather. He hurried down the ladder, skipping the last several rungs before hitting the ground at a run, chasing after his lover as they ran toward the meadow. He made a quick detour, scampering through the communal dining area and snatching up a few apples and wafers of lembas and two flasks of water before racing toward his horse. He hurriedly stuffed the items in his pack, struggling to hold his bow. He skidded up to his gelding in the wet grass, giving him a quick pat on the neck and handing him the apple before he swung up on his back.
Gildor was already trotting out of the meadow, trying to catch up to the patrol that had left just minutes earlier. Thranduil cantered after him, his horse still spitting bits of froth from the apple upon his forelegs. "Avorn, Celeg, we are late…" he whispered to his horse, and the young gelding pinned his ears as Thranduil gave him a hard squeeze. "I know, I know, mellonamin," he whispered. "I will make it up to you later, I promise." The horse surged forward, chasing down the departing patrol at a gallop.
~*~*~*~
The she-elf sat upon a low pallet in the Healer's flet. The sound of hoofbeats caught her attention and she peeked over the edge. The healer saw her leaning over and rushed forward, afraid in her despondent state she would fall. She knelt beside her and heard the she-elf whisper, "Vala? Oromë?"
She looked in the direction the she-elf pointed and suppressed a chuckle. "Nay, pen-dithen. That is not a Vala, that is the King's son, Thranduil. He is Sinda, not Vala." The she-elf looked at her with wide inquisitive eyes and she coaxed her back to the pallet. "Tolo, pen-dithen, let us finish up with you so that you may bathe and eat. Yes?"
The she-elf, who seemed to be relaxing somewhat to the gentle treatment by the healer, nodded and whispered, "Yes, hungry."
The healer smiled and nodded. "I am sure you are."
~*~*~*~
"So glad you decided to join us, Lord Gildor, my Liege…" Thandvell said teasingly.
Gildor shot a glance over his shoulder at Thranduil, who suppressed a chuckle. "Thank you for the warm welcome, Captain," he answered smoothly. "Our apologies for the late arrival, it appears we overslept."
Thandvell nodded and smiled. "Yes, it would appear so."
Thranduil chuckled and tossed Gildor an apple. The Noldo looked at it and smiled, taking a bite out of it and winking at his lover.
~*~*~*~
May 1702, Second Age, Imladris
Glorfindel and his soldiers rode into the courtyard at the head of a column of weary and battered elves. Erestor rushed down the stairs, barely able to contain his relief at seeing Glorfindel unharmed. The warrior dismounted and walked over to him, openly embracing him in front of his men, placing a soft kiss upon the Noldo's head. He stepped back and instructed his men to get the sick and wounded to the healer's quarters and stow the goods and horses.
Erestor took his hand as they climbed the stair to Lord Elrond's quarters.
"We found them hiding amongst the ruins of Ost-in-Edhil. When we came upon the marauders, they were released and fled. They have suffered grievous injury among them, Erestor. They have been beaten, half starved," he closed his eyes and continued, "some have been… despoiled. I do not know if all will survive such harsh and terrible treatment."
Erestor clenched his fists, barely able to contain the anger in his voice. "And what of the men that did this?"
Glorfindel looked at his lover. "They are all dead, every last one."
Erestor nodded. "Melpomaen has seen that lodgings are ready for them, when they are ready to retire. The kitchen staff is preparing a meal for them as we speak."
Glorfindel placed his arm around his lover. "All we can do now is give them our love and comfort, and a safe home." He sighed. "We lost one along the way, meleth. Her husband died defending his family and her daughter was taken from her months ago, she knew not where. She was unable to withstand the grief; she succumbed and passed not five leagues from here."
Erestor shook his head and said a quiet prayer to the fallen lady. "Come, meleth nín. Lord Elrond eagerly awaits your report."
They continued up the stair to give the sad news to the Lord of Imladris.
~*~*~*~
Melpomaen sat upon a low bench, his head in his hands. The refugees were safely tucked away in their quarters, and bathed and fed. Never in his life, which was admittedly short for his kind, had he seen so sad a sight. He felt weary, drained, and was relieved to be given the rest of the day off.
He heard a shout from the sentinel upon the gate and looked up.
"Riders approach!" the sentinel called.
Melpomaen rose to his feet, wondering what could be happening now. Lindir approached him as well, hearing the commotion, and placed his hand upon his friend's shoulder. "What is it, Melpomaen?"
"I do not know, mellon," he answered softly.
Two white horses galloped through the gate and Melpomaen's breath caught in his throat. "It is the Lady!" he whispered. He turned to Lindir. "Quick, fetch Lord Celeborn and Lord Elrond. Tell them the Lady Galadriel has arrived."
Lindir nodded and ran up the stairs, leaving Melpomaen to greet their visitors.
The young secretary bowed low as he greeted the renowned Lady of Light. "My Lady," he said softly. "We were not expecting you, I fear it falls upon myself to greet you, as unworthy as I am."
Galadriel smiled gently and placed her hand upon Melpomaen's shoulder. "Say not unworthy, gentle one," she said softly. "Rise and tell me your name."
Melpomaen rose and looked into her unfathomable blue eyes. "Melpomaen," he answered quietly. "I am Lord Erestor's secretary."
She smiled and nodded. "Melpomaen, thank you for so warm a greeting. Tell me, is my husband, Lord Celeborn, here?"
"Galadriel, meleth nín!"
She looked up and saw her husband coming down the stairs and she smiled.
"Adar!" the young maiden beside her called and rushed forward, leaping into her father's arms as he reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Ah, Celebrían, my beautiful child," he said softly, as he held her close. Galadriel joined them and the three embraced as Melpomaen, Erestor, Glorfindel and Elrond looked on with smiles upon their faces.
As the three parted Galadriel looked at Elrond and nodded. Elrond bowed his head and covered his heart with his hand. "Welcome to Imladris, my Lady."
~*~*~*~
Maer aur = good morning
Seron vell = dear lover
Ernilen = my Prince
Pen-`waur = dirty one
Pen-dithen = little one
Pen-velui = lovely one
Avorn = fast~*~*~*~
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