Title & Chapter Number: Fate's Mirror 24/?
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. Oropher learns more about the mysterious visitor, Elrond gets to know Celebrían, Thranduil gets a handmaiden.
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
Oropher sat on a low stool, watching the she-elf devour her food. The healer sat beside her and gently rubbed her back as she spoke with the King.
"She is less traumatized, my Lord. I think you may be able to speak with her now, if you are gentle."
Oropher nodded and quietly spoke to the she-elf. "What is your name, meldis?"
She looked up at the elf with large blue eyes and answered, "I do not remember my name, Lord, nor how I came to be here."
Oropher raised his eyebrows and looked at the healer, who smiled in return. "Well, this is quite a recovery. We feared you to be without your wits, elleth (elf-maid)."
The she-elf nodded and answered, "I fear I am lacking some of them, my Lord. But I no longer fear you or your kin." She took a large bite of an apple and pointed to the king's hair, mumbling with a mouthful of food, "You look like my father, Lord. He had hair such as yours."
Oropher smiled. "You are of the Sindarin kindred, yes?"
She nodded and answered, "I think so, my Lord. But my memories are all jumbled in my head, like a book that is missing pages."
Oropher smiled broadly, this she-elf was quite charming. "What of your naneth, elleth? Is she the same?"
She nodded again and answered, "I believe so, my Lord. Though I am having trouble remembering her." She tossed the apple core into a basket and took a large drink of water, wiping the droplets that ran down her chin with the back of her hand. "I would very much like to stay here with you and your kin, if I may," she said softly. "I can work hard, I am a good seamstress and have a way with children, though how I know this I cannot be sure."
Oropher bit back a chuckle and reached out slowly, gently touching her hand. "You are part of our kin now, elleth. You may stay as long as you wish, we will find some way for you to be of use."
Her eyes widened and tears formed in them, tracking down her cheeks as she cowered. The healer looked at the King in confusion and Oropher gently held her hand, keeping her from withdrawing from him. "What is it, elleth? Why are you frightened?" the King asked.
She waived her free hand and shook her head violently. "That is what they said… they wanted to make ill use of me, but I would not let them." She looked at the king with wide eyes. "I stabbed one, I did, in the eye with a stick. I ran, as fast as I could and climbed a tall tree. I moved from treetop to treetop to escape them. They were so foul, they smelled horrible and were rough with me. They set their dogs on me, but the dogs lost my scent. I ran and ran, I was so cold, so frightened. I remember naught after that."
Oropher rose and rounded the table, ignoring the healer's advice that he not touch her further. He remembered she said that he reminded her of her father, and he gathered her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her frightened and trembling form as he quietly sang to her as once he did to Thranduil as an elfling. The frightened she-elf sank into his fatherly embrace and closed her eyes, finally wrapping her arms around his neck.
He fought back the tears that threatened to rise to the surface. How anyone could harm so gentle and lovely a creature, he could not imagine. "Sssh, elleth," he whispered. "You are safe now, they will not seek you here. We will protect you now." He held the young female in his lap as she fell asleep, then took her to the flet they had prepared for her, lying her down upon the pallet and covering her with blankets. "Stay with her," he said quietly to the healer.
"Yes, my Lord," the healer answered as the King left the flet.
~*~*~*~
May 1702, Second Age, Last Homely House, Imladris
Glorfindel and Erestor flanked Lord Elrond as they sat at a large round table in the Hall of Fire. Celeborn, Galadriel, and their daughter Celebrían sat across from them holding hands. Galadriel told of their long journey through Khazad-dûm, led by the Durin's Folk to the eastern gate where they escaped to Lórien.
As they talked Elrond could not keep his eyes from wandering to the lovely Celebrían, and he smiled as she returned his gaze. Galadriel also noted the way her daughter looked upon the Lord of Imladris and she fought back a smile. It was good to see her take interest in another, she had been devoted to her mother for far too long.
Galadriel had foreseen what was to come, in greater depth than did her husband. Nenya heightened her foresight, and enabled her to see far into the future. She told all that she saw, warning of a great battle to come, and warning of the gathering strength of the One Ring that the Dark Lord bore.
They talked long into the evening before departing to share an evening meal with their host in his private dining quarters.
~*~*~*~
May 1702, Second Age, Greenwood the Great
Thranduil and Gildor slid off their horses after a long and uneventful watch along the western border of the forest. Thranduil bent down and clasped his ankles, groaning as he stretched. Gildor playfully slapped his backside and the Prince barked in surprise. He stood up and flashed his lover a scolding glance. "Aiya! Why did you do that?"
Gildor smiled wickedly and snatched up his pack. "What do you expect me to do when presented with so lovely a temptation?"
Thranduil scowled and rubbed his backside. "It is not as if I am not sore enough from the rough treatment you gave me this morn," he said quietly.
Gildor drew the Prince into his arms and purred in his ear, "Then, I must make it up to you, ernilen."
Thranduil smiled and leaned back, casting a suspicious glance at his lover. "Yes, I should think so," he chided playfully.
Gildor pulled him closer and nuzzled his ear. "Umm… I will, meleth, I promise you that," he purred.
Thranduil smiled and sighed before spotting his father as he came over the rise. "Here comes my father, meleth," he whispered.
Gildor sighed and released his lover turning to greet the approaching King. "My Lord," he said respectfully, bowing his head and covering his heart with his hand.
Oropher bowed his head and addressed the Noldo, "I would like a word with my son, Gildor."
Gildor nodded. "Of course, my Lord," he answered softly. He gave Thranduil's hand a squeeze before releasing it and making for their shared talan.
Thranduil braced himself for another onslaught of dissatisfaction from his father on his choice of mate.
"What of the western border, Iôn?" Oropher asked.
Thranduil opened his mouth, his defense already prepared, then abruptly closed it upon seeing it was not what his father wanted to speak with him about. He furrowed his brow and answered, "All was clear, Adar, no sign of orc nor man about. Why do you ask?"
Oropher frowned and clasped his son by the elbow. "Come, Iôn, I have a strange and sad tale to tell you." Oropher led his son away from the meadow, telling him of their new visitor and the tale she told.
~*~*~*~
May 1702, Second Age, Last Homely House, Imladris
Elrond stepped out onto the balcony as Galadriel and Celeborn adjourned for the evening. Glorfindel and Erestor had also departed, arm in arm, shortly before their guests. He gazed upon Celebrían as she stood on his balcony in the moonlight; she had excused herself from the table when talk turned to that of preparation for war.
"I am sorry if we bored you, my Lady," he said softly.
She turned around quickly and smiled, pressing her hand to her breast. "You startled me, my Lord," she answered softly. "Have my mother and father retired for the evening?"
Elrond nodded and stepped out onto the balcony, and leaned against the railing, his arms crossed over his chest. "Aye. They have much catching up to do, having been parted for so long."
Celebrían blushed and smiled. "I suppose they do, my Lord," she answered softly. "I know my mother has missed my father a great deal."
Elrond smiled. "Had I a lady as radiant as your mother, I too would have missed her the long years of the war."
Celebrían twirled a sprig of jasmine beneath her nose as she looked at the stone floor beneath her sandaled feet. "You have no lady, my Lord?" she asked shyly.
Elrond slowly shook his head. "Nay, my Lady, I have none. My life has been one of service to the High King and to those I foster here in Imladris."
Celebrían looked up into Elrond's sparkling pewter eyes. She admired the fall of rich dark hair around his handsome face. She noted his broad shoulders and graceful hands, the fullness of his lips as they curved into a smile. She found herself seeking for those traces of him which were human, but found she could see none, though most of him was obscured from her gaze by the stately attire he wore. She realized he knew she was staring and she turned away quickly, her cheeks coloring. "Forgive me, my Lord," she began hesitantly. "I have never seen one with the blood of the Edain. I was staring, and it was rude. I apologize."
Elrond smiled broadly despite his efforts not to. "'Tis alright, my Lady. I too apologize for staring, for I have never seen one as radiant and lovely as yourself."
She turned around, her eyes wide in surprise. She had thought his smiles and gentle manner were merely out of respect for her lineage. "Do you mean me?" she asked innocently.
Elrond chuckled and nodded. "Aye, my Lady. I do mean you. Forgive me if I am too bold, but your very presence lends a grace to my humble home."
Celebrían smiled broadly, a small laugh escaping her. "My Lord," she began, hiding her smile behind the jasmine, "you are indeed bold." She passed by him and paused at the door. "But I do believe I like it."
Elrond tried not to stare at her as she paused in the lit doorway, the light from the room spilling through and revealing the silhouette of her lithe form through the pale folds of her gown. She bowed her head, her golden locks falling forward, and said goodnight, leaving the much-enamored Lord of Imladris in her wake. He turned and looked up at the night sky, smiling as his eyes rested upon the evening star. "Maer dû, Adar," he whispered softly, then turned and walked back to his chamber.
~*~*~*~
May 1702, Second Age, Greenwood the Great
Thranduil entered his father's flet, and before him sat the most waifish creature he had ever seen. She had long, golden hair, that pooled upon the ground she sat upon, and long, slender limbs. As she looked up at him, he gazed into her large blue eyes, they held so much emotion. Her rosebud-pink lips curved into a smile and she softly addressed him, "Oromë."
His eyes widened as he listened to the waif call him by the Vala's name and he bit back a chuckle. He had long known that others found him fair, but to be compared to a Vala, that was a first. "I hate to disappoint you, meldis," he answered softly. "But I am no Vala, I am Thranduil Oropherion, son of the King."
She smiled and blushed and answered matter of factly, "So say you, but I still think you are Oromë."
Thranduil laughed openly this time and knelt before her. "I understand you are to be my handmaiden, elleth," he said softly.
She nodded and answered, "Yes, my Lord."
He smiled and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Then I must insist you not call me Oromë in front of the others. Yes?"
She laughed softly and nodded. "Yes, my Lord. I promise I will refrain."
"Good," he answered. He stood and looked at his father with a furrowed brow. He had not needed a handmaiden before, and was unclear as to why he needed one now, but to refuse would be a disservice to the maiden who so clearly wanted to be of use. He turned back to the maiden and asked, "What is your name, elleth?"
She shrugged and answered, "I am afraid I do not know, my Lord. My name escapes my thought."
He nodded and tapped his finger with his chin. "Well, you must have a name, I cannot go about calling you elleth all day." He looked at her thoughtfully and smiled. "Nessa," he answered. "How does that fit with you, elleth?"
"Nessa," she answered with a smile. "Oromë's sister. I like it well."
He smiled. "Then come, Nessa, I will show you your quarters and introduce you to my friend Gildor. Ellegail will show you your duties in the morning."
"Happily, my Lord," she answered as she rose from her place on the floor. "I am eager to be of use."
Thranduil led Nessa from his father's flet.
Oropher smiled as his own chambermaid crossed her arms over her chest. "My Lord," she chastised, "your motivations are as transparent as water."
He smiled and turned to address his chambermaid. "Perhaps they are, Asphodel, but if they work, then my son will provide the kingdom with an heir after my passing."
Asphodel shook her head and began turning down the King's bed. "As if you are likely to pass, my Lord. You are too obstinate to pass on to Mandos' Halls, he would not give you entrance as he would fear you would take over."
Oropher chuckled and shook his head. "Aiya, Asphodel, one day you will be the death of me."
"Not likely, my Lord," she scolded as she departed the King's talan.
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