Title & Chapter Number: Fate's Mirror 27/?
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.
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.
November 1702, Second Age, Greenwood the Great
Thranduil held in his hands a curled parchment. It was a letter from Gildor, stating he had to return to Lindon with the High King. The Noldo swore to remain faithful, he swore to return as soon as he was able, but to Thranduil, it was the beginning of the end of their love affair. He took a deep breath, and steeled himself against his loneliness, determined not to cry another tear for a lover that could not stay.
He was not angry with Gildor; he understood his commitment to his duty. Gildor had his place, just as he did, and his was with his father protecting their realm. With Gildor and his companions gone, more responsibility fell upon Thranduil's shoulders. He was appointed Captain of his father's armies, and he supervised the guardians of the great wood as well as trained the new recruits. The uneasy peace that had settled upon them left more time for husbands to be at home with their wives, and the number of pregnant females among them seemed to have tripled.
So the Prince of Greenwood occupied himself patrolling the borders of his father's realm, spending his nights prowling the forest, and his days lying in his talan, watching the clouds pass over head. His friendship with Nessa grew stronger, and he adored watching her with the elflings. A dark cloud loomed on the horizon, the wood told him so, and he was ever watchful, always aware of the gathering darkness in the east.
~*~*~*~
November 1702, Last Homely House, Imladris
Glorfindel lay upon a blanket in the sun, watching the clouds pass over head, enjoying the warmth of Anor upon his skin. The corners of his lips curved into a peaceful smile as he listened to the high-pitched squeals and frantic giggles coming from the playing children and elflings nearby. Elrond's house and realm was a place of refuge to elves and men, and the young ones thrived in its safe and pleasant surroundings. He took a deep breath and inhaled the crisp fall air, winter was coming and he wanted to enjoy every moment of sunshine he could before the days grew too short and the snow started to fall.
His smile faded when he thought about his dear friend Gildor. The Noldo had looked positively ruined when he learned he would be returning to Lindon with Gil-galad. He was too proud, too filled with a sense of duty to ask for forbearance, so he had drafted a letter and had it sent by courier to Greenwood. Glorfindel imagined how painful that letter had been for Thranduil to read, twice now he had been left by one he cared for. The Elda hoped that Thranduil knew how much Gildor loved him, and how it pained him to be so far away; the Prince had a kind heart and he did not wish to see it consumed with pain.
A shadow passed over him and he opened his eyes, smiling as he admired the fall of raven hair around his face. "Pen-vain," he whispered.
"Mmm, I cannot tell you how tempting and delicious you are lying there bare chested in the grass, meleth," Erestor whispered. "I could eat you alive, right here in front of all the blushing females and screaming children."
Glorfindel laughed wickedly, "Well, that would cause a stir." He gasped as his lover leaned down, his lips caressing his collarbone and moving to his chest. "Erestor," he purred, "what in Elbereth's name are you doing?"
Erestor lapped at a pebbled nipple and Glorfindel moaned quietly, arching in response. "I am taking a brief respite from my duties, nauren."
"No," Glorfindel whispered before biting back a moan. "I mean what are you doing to me?"
Erestor looked up at the warrior and smiled wickedly. "Do you wish me to stop, melethen?"
Glorfindel grinned back and answered, "Not really…"
Erestor smiled and resumed his task as the Elda arched beneath him. He felt Glorfindel's length awaken, slowly swelling inside the confines of his leggings. It appeared his break would last longer than he had planned, he mused. "Tolo, Glorfindel," he purred silkily, I have something I wish to show you."
He pulled his lover off the ground and led him by the hand down the path toward the wine cellar.
As Erestor pulled the Elda through the door and into the wine cellar, Glorfindel barked in surprise then laughed softly as Erestor quickly pinned him to the wall. Erestor's hands swept over his bare chest, his fingers spread wide to encompass as much of him as possible. Glorfindel closed his eyes and allowed his lover's heated exploration of his body. He moaned quietly as Erestor's soft and warm lips caressed the curve of his ear before focusing on the point. An urgent cry issued from him as Erestor nipped it then soothed the flesh with his tongue.
Theirs was a complicated and ever changing relationship. They were friends and lovers, peers and comrades in arms. They argued and fought, got on one another's nerves, and never saw the same thing in the same way. But they also loved one another with abandon, each fully giving all that they were to the other. There were times when Erestor came to him this way, filled with urgent, demanding need, and others when the Noldo was gentle and yielding. He yielded to his lover, as that was what Erestor requested with his grasping and probing hands and his heated kisses, Glorfindel did not need to hear the words. Erestor thrilled him and excited him in ways he had not previously imagined. He loved the serious Counselor with all his heart, he could never imagine loving anyone else.
"Do you remember the construction of this cellar?" Erestor purred silkily in his ear.
"Aye, I do, ervainen vorn," he answered.
"As do I," Erestor continued. "I watched you, moving beams and stone, your muscles rippling under your alabaster skin. Never in all my days had I seen so moving, so beautiful, or so intoxicating a sight. I knew then, Glorfindel, I knew my heart was lost though my mind refused to see it. It was the last stone of a long standing wall falling and crumbling to dust." His hand slid down the Elda's abdomen and over the now prominent rise in his leggings. "I still swore to myself to resist you, I convinced myself we could never be." His lips hovered inches from Glorfindel's as he whispered, "But as I lie dying on a blood stained stone wall, my body violated by the cruel steel crafted in Mordor, I cursed myself for being so foolish, I cursed myself for not saying all that I felt. I watched you attack that beast with ferocity I had never witnessed in all my long days. The sound of your voice calling my name, the touch of your hand upon mine, the soft caress of your lips upon my face, that is what saved me, Glorfindel. Without that, not even Lord Elrond's skills could have brought me back." He caressed the Elda's face and whispered, "Melin le, Glorfindel, uireb."
A gentle smile curved Glorfindel's lips and a tear slid from his eye. "Melin le, Erestor, uireb," he answered. He opened to his lover's claiming kiss, wrapping Erestor in his arms and pulling him close.
~*~*~*~
Celebrían was balancing on her toes on top of a tall stool in Elrond's library. She clung to the shelf with one hand, her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the spine of a book. The Lord of Imladris entered his library to find the maid in this most precarious position.
"I have a ladder…" he began. Celebrían squeaked in surprise and jumped, losing her grip and balance and falling backward off the stool. He quickly stepped forward and caught her in his arms, cradling her safely against his chest. "Should you need one," he finished softly. He looked into her bright blue eyes and admired the hue of her flushed cheeks.
"You startled me, my Lord," she answered, feeling more than content to be held in his arms. Her own arms were wrapped around his neck and she felt the strength in his chest and shoulders. She found herself wishing he would kiss her, wishing he would finally do more than just smile at her.
Elrond sensed the attraction between them, he had for many long months now, but Celebrían was the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, and it was important he treat her in the manner in which she deserved to be treated. As he gazed down into her eyes, eyes that were beautifully framed with long lashes, that were so open and warm, he found himself lost in their sapphire depths. He gently set her down on the floor, but did not release her from his arms. She gave no indication she wished to be released; in fact, her delicate arms still rested around his neck.
"My Lady has an interest in history?" he asked quietly.
She blinked, returning from reverie, finding her way back from the warm depths of his pewter eyes. "I have an interest in your history," she heard herself answer and was shocked at her forwardness. He smiled, something that always caused her heart to race blindly in her chest.
"Perhaps you would rather learn it from me, than from a book?" he asked daringly.
She smiled broadly; relieved her forwardness had not caused offence. "Yes, my Lord, I would like that very much," she answered.
"Then come, my Lady, and I shall tell you all you wish to know." He took her by the hand and led her from the library toward his residence.
~*~*~*~
March 3430, Second Age, Greenwood the Great
Long years passed in uneasy peace, as Sauron grew stronger in the east. Gildor had returned to Greenwood and Imladris as often as he could; but it was not often enough. Thranduil had grown distant, preoccupied with training and war craft. Gildor was concerned at the change that had come over his lover, at the cool detachment in which Thranduil approached his duties. The Prince had become a skillful and masterful fighter with both bow and sword.
He had written many letters to Thranduil, he had expressed his sorrow at being apart, he told him how much he loved him, and how he yearned for him each and every day. Thranduil answered the letters, also speaking of his love and how much he missed his lover. But each letter had grown more impersonal, more about happenings in the great wood and less about his feelings.
The time they had all dreaded had come; Sauron had waged war against the men of Middle Earth, Númenor lay in ruins at the bottom of the sea, and Isildur had been driven from Minas Ithil into the north. The men of Gondor still held the shaky and ever-shrinking ground of their realm, Anárion held Minas Tirith and Osgiliath, but all knew he could not hold it for long. Galadriel and Elrond had seen the turning of the tide, and the Lady had urged the High King to action.
Gil-galad and Elendil from the North were gathering their forces, and the Elves and Men of Middle Earth prepared to make war on Sauron for what they hoped would be the last time. Gildor and his troops had been sent ahead, to inform Oropher and Amdír of the gathering of leaders in Imladris. Gildor had known that Oropher would not attend, but it was an excuse to see Thranduil, and he hoped the Sindar King would be more willing to join forces with his fellow leaders in Middle Earth.
Two Noldo soldiers accompanied him from Lindon, his traveling companions and compatriots. He saw the nervous discomfort that came over them as they entered Oropher's realm; the Sindar King's reputation for being difficult had grown over the many years. He told his companions not to worry, that despite his reputation, Oropher would receive them graciously and they would be treated well. Five Silvan archers dropped from the trees in front of them, Gildor recognized the leader, he had trained him himself. He bowed his head and greeted the captain who welcomed him back, and they made their way without escort toward the center of the village.
As they dismounted, some of Gildor's friends came forward to greet him. He clasped their shoulders and hands, smiling broadly but his eyes continued to scan the faces for the one he had longed to see more than any other. The Silvans quickly welcomed Gildor's companions into their midst, showing them where to stow their horses and belongings and inviting them to breakfast with them.
"Gildor!"
He heard the bright, happy sound of Nessa's voice, and he turned to greet her, catching her up in his arms and swinging her around. "Mae Govannen, elleth," he said happily, laughing as she showered his face with kisses.
"We have missed you, my Lord," she answered happily. "It has been too long since your last visit."
He set her down and cupped her cheek in his hand. She was as lovely and sweet as she was when her saw her last. "Aye, it has been too long," he answered quietly. "Tell me, Nessa, where is Thranduil?"
She smiled sweetly and answered, "He will be returning from patrol soon, he has been leading the eastern watch."
Gildor raised an eyebrow. "He leads the eastern watch at night?" He tried to mask the alarm in his voice. That was the most dangerous watch, the chances of encountering orcs or men under the yoke of Sauron doubled on the eastern border, especially at night.
They heard the sound of elves entering the village and turned to see Thranduil and his fellow guard returning.
"Eight, he took down eight before I had time to take aim upon my third!" one of the young elves exclaimed.
Oropher greeted his son and clasped him upon the shoulders. "Well done, Iôn," he said proudly, "you have grown into a fine warrior." Thranduil bowed his head and made no answer. "It appears we have visitors," the King continued, as he turned and motioned toward where Gildor stood with Nessa.
Thranduil looked up to see his lover standing with Nessa and his heart skipped. "If you will pardon me, Adar, I will see to our guests," he said softly.
Oropher nodded and watched his son walk toward Gildor.
Gildor smiled when he saw Thranduil, barely able to mask his surprise when he saw him. The Prince had been transformed from a lithe young beauty into a battle hardened warrior. Everything about him was different in some way, he was taller, broader, the gentle smile and bright laughter that had been in his eyes had transformed into the shrewd gaze of a soldier. He was still beautiful, perhaps even more so, but the mirth that had once been so a part of him seemed to have faded.
As Thranduil reached him, he took the Prince into his arms and held him tight, not caring who saw. Thranduil slowly raised his arms and embraced him in return, but the touch was tentative, reserved. Gildor pulled back and smiled, wanting nothing more than to claim the Sinda's sweet mouth with his own, but knowing he could not, not there at least. "It is good to see you, mellonen," he said softly.
"'Tis good to see you as well, Gildor," Thranduil answered. "Have you been shown to your quarters?"
Gildor winced inwardly at the indifferent tone with which his lover greeted him. "Not yet," he answered quietly.
"Come," Thranduil replied, "Nessa and I will escort you, there is talan reserved for guests that overlooks the meadow." Thranduil took Gildor by the elbow and led him away, Nessa following close behind.
~*~*~*~
Gildor placed his bags in the corner of the talan, Nessa had left the two of them alone. He looked at Thranduil, who stood at the edge of the flet, looking down upon the horses in the meadow. The Prince had hardly said more than a few words, and those were mostly idle pleasantries. He knew his leaving and long absences had been taking a toll on their relationship, but this was worse than he had imagined.
"Are you angry with me, melethen?" he asked softly.
"No," Thranduil answered. "Why should I be angry with you? You are only doing your duty, as I am doing mine."
Gildor cocked his head and answered, "So seeing me to my talan is your duty? Remaining here with me while I stow my belongings is your duty?"
Thranduil answered without turning from the view, "No, that I do as your friend."
Gildor hung his head. "Friend?" he asked. He crossed the short distance to his lover. "I have been laboring under the impression we are more than friends." He placed his arms around his lover's waist and his head upon his shoulder.
"Laboring is a goodly term," Thranduil answered. "For that is what this has been is it not? Did you expect I would drop everything and rush into your arms, Gildor? I have a duty that is no less important than yours, that is the only thing I have to keep me warm while you are away." He turned in his lover's arms and looked into his gray eyes. "Yours is not the only King, Gildor. My father is a King, I am a Prince and it is my duty to guard this realm. Is my duty less than yours? Is my King less than yours?" "No, mellonen," Gildor answered. "You know I do not see it that way. It has pained me to be so far away from you, Thranduil. I have missed you, seron vell, more than I think you believe."
Thranduil looked at the ground and answered quietly, "I cannot do this, Gildor. Each time you leave me a part of me dies. The only thing that has kept me going is my duty and love for my father. Without that, I have no purpose. I have missed you, terribly. But if I give everything I am to you, what will I be left with when you leave again? For you will, as surely as I stand here, you will leave again."
Gildor embraced him tightly and whispered in his ear, "I am sorry for the pain I have caused you, melethen. But I cannot stop loving you, it simply is not possible. If you wish me to leave and never come back, then tell me now and I will honor your request. But do not ask me not to love you, for that I cannot do."
Thranduil's voice grew very quiet and he whispered, "I do not wish you to leave, ever again. But we both know that is not to be the case. I too love you, Gildor. I fear that love will be my ruin." He drew back from the embrace and took the Noldo's face in his hands, pressing his lips to those of his love and kissing him deeply.
~*~*~*~
Pen-vain = beautiful one
Meleth = love
Nauren = my flame
Melethen = my love
Tolo = Come
Seron vell = dear lover
Ervainen vorn = my dark beautiful one~*~*~*~
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