Title & Chapter Number: Fate's Mirror 35/?
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. A new age begins.
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.
December 3441, Second Age, Mordor
Thranduil led Gildor into his tent. He turned as he closed the flap behind them and was met by his lover’s mouth upon his own. He closed his eyes as he let Gildor taste of him. His heart was pounding in his chest, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears; he knew he had to say something, but he could not find the courage.
Gildor felt the apprehension in his lover’s body and pulled away from the kiss, taking Thranduil’s hands in his own. "You are trembling, melethen," he said softly.
Thranduil swallowed and gathered his courage. "I need to speak with you, Gildor."
Gildor nodded, a bad feeling settling over his heart. He walked with Thranduil to the bed and sat beside him, still holding his hands in his own.
Thranduil looked at the bed, unable to bear looking into his lover’s eyes. "I love you, Gildor," he whispered.
Gildor cocked his head and replied, "I love you too, Thranduil."
A tear slipped from Thranduil’s eye as he continued, "Do you remember the night before my father’s death?"
Gildor nodded. "Aye, melethen, I do. What of it?"
Thranduil swallowed and replied, "Something happened that night that I have not told you of. I thought I was going to die, I had foreseen it in a dream. Had I known the truth, I never would have…" His voice failed him and he took a deep breath before he continued, "I never would have sworn the oath."
Gildor furrowed his brow, a growing sense of unrest settling over him, and asked, "What oath?"
Thranduil forced himself to look into Gildor’s eyes and he saw the confusion and fear in them. "I am sorry, melethen," he whispered. "I love you so much, you are so dear to me. You are everything to me, but…"
Gildor had long known of Oropher’s wish that his son bond with a female and provide the realm with another heir. He dropped Thranduil’s hands and sat back. "You are leaving me," he answered so softly that Thranduil barely heard him.
"I do not want to!" Thranduil pleaded. "I love you…"
Gildor stood and took a step back. "But not enough. You do not love me enough to forsake this oath. You did not love me enough when you made it to tell your father the truth."
"I thought I was going to die! I was trying to comfort him," Thranduil answered. "I never thought…"
Gildor put up his hand and turned his back. "So you hold to this oath, and you forsake the oath you made to me when you willingly took my love and my heart."
"You forsook the same oath when you left me years upon end in that forest, never knowing if I would see you again, never knowing…"
Gildor wheeled on Thranduil. "I never loved another!" he shouted. "I never forsook you, Thranduil. I had to do my duty!"
Thranduil rose from the bed and shouted back, "And I have to do mine! I am King now, Gildor. It is my duty to marry and provide an heir!"
Gildor looked at his beloved, his heart was breaking in two, and he saw Thranduil’s did the same. He knew it was over, even though neither wanted it to be. He did not want his lover consumed by grief, consumed with guilt over what he was doing, so he decided to release Thranduil from it. "Do your duty then, your majesty, and I will do mine." He turned and left a broken Thranduil in his tent.
Thranduil flopped upon the bed, his face in his hands as he wept silently.
~*~*~*~
"Glorfindel!" Erestor barked. "For Valar’s sake… please. I am fine, stop fussing over me."
Glorfindel blushed as he clasped his hands in his lap. He had been fluffing pillows and tucking blankets, and stroking his lover’s hair for the better part of the morning. Erestor lay upon a bed inside a wagon driven by two of Glorfindel’s guard. His own horse and Asfaloth trotted happily behind as the wagon rolled toward the Fords of Isen.
Erestor looked up at his flustered lover and smiled despite his poor mood. "I am sorry, melethen," he said softly. "I am not accustomed to being taken care of, and this is twice in an age that I have had to bear it."
Glorfindel nodded. "I know, and I am sorry as well, ervainen vorn. I know this cannot be easy for you. It is just that I feel so helpless…"
Erestor reached out and clasped one of the warrior’s hands and pulled it to his lips. "I am sorry I frightened you so, rawen," he said quietly.
Glorfindel slid down in the wagon so that he lay next to Erestor and he smiled wearily. "Aye, I was frightened, but it could not be helped." He smiled wryly, "While I do not doubt you have pulled a prank upon me once or twice in the past, this was not your doing."
Erestor smiled grimly and shook his head. "You saved me, Glorfindel," he answered softly. "Your love is what saved me. Elrond’s voice showed me the way, but it was your voice, your love that brought me back, just like it did before. Melin le, Glorfindel."
Glorfindel smiled and caressed Erestor’s face. "Melin le, Erestor." He lay his head upon the pillow next to his beloved and sighed.
Erestor reached out and tugged at his tunic, encouraging the warrior to come closer, and he wrapped his arms around Glorfindel as his beloved snuggled close to his body. "Do you know what I wish to do as soon as we are home?" he asked quietly.
"No. What, ervainen vorn?" Glorfindel replied.
"I would like to lounge in the tub with you and take a long, hot bath. Then, I wish to make love to you in our bed, and stay there for at least two days," he answered.
Glorfindel smiled and looked up into his love’s gray eyes. "I would like that, very much," he answered with a smile.
Erestor caressed his face, brushing his golden hair back behind his ear. "Never, in all of my long life have I seen one as purely beautiful as you, melethen. You are perfection." His fingers trailed over the curve of the warrior’s ear and Glorfindel let out a breathtaking sigh. "So soft and lovely, yet so strong and fierce. You are the finest of all of Eru’s creations, seron vell."
Glorfindel’s full lips curved into a smile and he reached for his lover’s mouth with his own. "You are impossible, Erestor," he whispered against his lover’s lips. "You know what it does to me when you speak to me like that."
Erestor smiled against the warrior’s mouth as his fingers worked their way inside his leggings. "There is no reason why we should both go without," he whispered.
Glorfindel gasped and teased his lover’s lips with his tongue as Erestor’s fingers wrapped around his awakening length. "But it would be unfair for me to… ah… to enjoy… oh, Erestor…"
"Silence, melethen," Erestor playfully chided. "I will do what I will." He claimed Glorfindel’s mouth with his own.
Glorfindel moaned quietly into the kiss as Erestor stroked his hardening length. The advisor pulled away from his lips and whispered, "But we must be quiet, unless you wish your Captains to hear our coupling."
Glorfindel bit his lower lip to stifle a moan as he nodded. "You are a wicked elf, Erestor," he breathed as he felt his composure slip away.
Erestor smiled and tugged upon the warrior’s lip with his teeth. "Aye, but I am your wicked elf," he answered huskily. He pulled Glorfindel’s mouth back to his own as the wagon slowly rocked its way down the dirt road.
~*~*~*~
Gildor sat astride his horse, solemnly riding ahead of the wagon that bore the body of his fallen King. Elrond rode beside him, bearing the standard of Gil-galad and the King’s ring upon his finger. Elrond took one look at Gildor that morning and knew what had passed between his friend and Thranduil. **So much despair,** he thought, **so much death and heartache. And all for naught.** He knew in his heart that the peace that had been so dearly bought was to be short lived in the lives of elves, for as long as the Ring existed, there was a chance that Sauron would return.
Thranduil and his Silvan Elves had departed at daybreak with the Elves of Lórien, and the Lord of Imladris had watched the Sindar King march away with a heavy heart. Thranduil suffered as much as Gildor for the oath Oropher made him swear, and Elrond wondered if the King had known what it was he asked when he made Thranduil swear such a thing. **Surely,** he told himself, **Oropher would not have wanted his son to live in such pain for the rest of his life.** But Thranduil would not be moved, and as a result of the oath, two hearts were broken.
He tried to focus his thoughts on his return to Imladris, to his beloved Celebrían. A smile crossed his lips as he imagined asking her to bond with him, and the happy life they would have. He had seen his children in a vision the night before, two sons and a daughter. He had dreamt of them running through the gardens, their bright laughter ringing through the Last Homely House. He felt a momentary pang of regret that Elros had not chosen the path of the Eldar, and that he would not be there to see his nephews and his niece be born. He worried for what was left of the blood of Númenor, for he feared the Ring would surely corrupt Isildur.
He sighed and returned his gaze to the road ahead and focused all his thoughts on his home.
~*~*~*~
Thranduil walked at the head of his small band of warriors as they marched northward through the Wilderland. Since separating from Amroth’s band they moved under cover of darkness, as Sauron’s minions still roamed the lands and their number were few. He had not slept in days, each time he closed his eyes he saw Gildor’s face, and he saw his father’s death.
As they entered the cover of the trees and crossed the Enchanted River, he saw the first of his guard awaiting them. The shocked expressions on their faces when they saw the small band of returning warriors made Thranduil’s heart ache all over again. He vowed to speak with each member of his now small community that had lost a loved one in battle; it would take many days, he feared.
"Thranduil!"
He heard his name and looked up to see Nessa running toward him. He set his pack and bow upon the ground and huffed as she leapt up into his arms, wrapping her slender arms around his neck and her long legs around his waist.
"Oh, my Lord," she breathed into his ear. "’Tis so good to finally have you home."
He wrapped his arms around her slender frame and held her close; she smelled just as he remembered, like wildflowers and fresh clover. One of his advisors stepped forward to chastise the maid for such an inappropriate display of affection for the King, and he waived them off. She was exactly what he needed at that moment. He slowly set her down upon the ground and she reached up and caressed his face before picking up his pack.
"Come, my Lord. You are weary and have traveled far, let me take care of you," she said softly. She led him by the hand to the King’s talan.
~*~*~*~
Melethen = my love
Ervainen vorn = dark beautiful one
Rawen = my lion
Melin le = I love thee
Seron vell = dear lover~*~*~*~
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