Title & Chapter Number: Fate's Mirror 38/?
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 generation grows into adulthood. Gildor returns after a long absence.
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.
Spring, Year 180, Third Age, Last Homely House, Imladris
Glorfindel walked through the training room, watching his pupils practice hand to hand combat. He smiled as he watched Elrohir out of the corner of his eye, that smile spread when he caught sight of Elladan watching him from outside as well. The elder twin sat upon a stone bench outside the large archway, his hands folded upon his knees as he watched, enraptured. Both twins showed promise as warriors and statesmen; both were intelligent, eager to learn, adept in the healing arts, and physically powerful. However, as Glorfindel had once suspected, despite being identical twins, they were very different on the inside.
Elladan had a brilliant mind, a knack for languages, and a flawless memory; he could recite just about anything you asked for out of the volumes of history and lore that were in his master’s keeping. Since Elladan’s talents ran toward more scholarly pursuits, he was given over into the hands of Erestor for his tutelage, and spent many hours with the staid Counselor in his offices and the library. Elladan had inherited his mother’s gift for empathy; he could acutely feel the pain and joy of others. As a youth, it caused him some pain, but through his parents, he learned to control it.
Elrohir, on the other hand, had indeed lived up to his name and he excelled as a warrior. This did not mean he that he did not possess his father’s aptitude for learning, but his interests ran more toward the physical than the intellectual. He could be rash and impetuous, often acting before thinking, quicker to anger than Elladan, but he was also very sensitive and caring. He inherited his father’s extraordinary healing abilities, though he was yet to master them. Even at the tender age of fifty, Elrohir had learned how to use his slightly smaller size to his advantage against warriors far older and stronger than he was. In training, he was unbelievably fast and had soundly thrashed those twice his age; beating all of them, all save one.
Glorfindel was the only one he had yet to vanquish; the Elda’s combined physical prowess and experience born from ages of warfare was just too great a match for the talented young Peredhel. Elrohir was desperate for Glorfindel’s approval, though he hid it outwardly. He admired the Elda as much as he admired his own father. Glorfindel caught the shy and awkward glances Elrohir would cast his way out of the corner of his eye. The twins had just come of age, were beginning to grow curious about their bodies, and were looking at those around them differently. He had seen Elrohir watching him from behind a veil of dark sable hair. At first, he thought the Peredhel was studying his technique, but as the heat of the afternoon intensified inside the training room, he removed his shirt and caught the slight flush of Elrohir’s cheek.
He had dismissed the other recruits and his men and he and Elrohir were alone. Elrohir got more attention than the others, as he could one day be leading the defenses of Imladris. They circled one another slowly; Elrohir watched every twitch of the warrior’s muscles intently, looking for the sign that he was about to advance. Glorfindel quickly stepped forward, placing one foot in between Elrohir’s legs, hooking his ankle around the Peredhel’s and catching his wrists, forcing him to his back upon the mat.
Elrohir struggled but could not pull free of the Elda’s grip. He glared up into the cool blue eyes of his tutor, the only one he could not best, the only one he could never defeat. The heat of the training room was near unbearable and they were both soaked with sweat. He could feel Glorfindel’s heart beating against his own, and it was mesmerizing.
"Why so angry, Peredhel? You are not a poor loser are you?" Glorfindel teased.
Elrohir growled, "I am not a loser!"
Glorfindel smiled. "Of course not, that is not what I meant, pen-neth."
"Do not call me that!" Elrohir growled.
"I mean no offense, Elrohir." Glorfindel’s eyes widened when he felt the rigid desire of his student press into his groin. He gently shifted against him. "What is this then? Are you inspired by the heat of combat?"
Elrohir resumed his struggle, and in his fervor, his legs fell apart and his tutor came to rest in between them. His aching arousal began to throb inside his leggings, and he felt the damp heat of the beginnings of his release start to soak into the fabric. His cheeks flushed, for he knew his tutor surely felt it too; it would be yet another cause for Glorfindel to tease him. He meant to sound demanding, but only sounded pathetic as he whispered, "Let me go."
Glorfindel tried to find words to soothe Elrohir’s humiliation, but realized that the best thing was to do as he asked. He released his pupil and rose to his feet, offering Elrohir his hand. Elrohir did not take it, instead climbing to his feet and running from the training room.
"Elrohir!" Glorfindel called after him, but the Peredhel was gone.
"Best to leave him to himself, rawen," Erestor’s voice came from behind him. "He will get over it, in time."
Glorfindel turned to see his mate standing in the doorway and he smiled sadly. "I should not have teased him thusly. He is embarrassed, and it is my fault."
"He would have been embarrassed anyway, melethen. Do you not remember how it feels to be young and discovering these feelings?" He crossed the room to his lover and wrapped his arms around him.
"I am soaked with sweat, meleth," Glorfindel said softly. "You will soil your robes."
Erestor smiled as his hands slid through the sweat on Glorfindel’s back. "Mmm… yes I will, and I will need to change them." He leaned forward and whispered into the Elda’s ear, "I may even need to bathe before dinner."
Glorfindel smiled wickedly as he pulled his mate closer. "We shall both have to bathe, for I am already a mess."
"And a beautiful mess at that, rawen," Erestor purred. He slid his hand down the warrior’s arm and took his hand. "Come with me, seron vell."
~*~*~*~
Elrohir sat upon a bench outside the private wing of the baths that was reserved for Elrond and his family and guests. He gripped the edge of the bench in his hands as tears traced down his cheeks. Once again, he had proven he was no more than an awkward boy to the Elda. He knew Erestor and Glorfindel were bonded; he would never try to interfere in their relationship. He berated himself for not being stronger, but he could not help the thoughts that crept into his mind when he looked at Glorfindel.
He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not hear his twin approach. He felt the soft brush of Elladan’s hand upon his cheek as his twin swept his hair over his shoulder.
"Elrohir?" Elladan’s voice drifted into his ear. "What is it, gwanunig? Why are you so upset? Did Glorfindel do something…"
Elrohir shook his head vigorously. "No, Elladan. This is not Glorfindel’s fault," he answered quietly. He turned his tear-stained face up to his brother’s and continued, "It is mine. I do not know what is wrong with me. I do not understand why I am acting this way."
"Oh, Elrohir," Elladan answered softly as he drew his twin into his arms. "Please talk to me, please tell me what is wrong."
Elrohir clung to his elder twin; Elladan was always there to help him, always there to comfort him when things became too much for him to bear. As he grew older, the intensity of his feelings grew a bit easier to manage, but sometimes, they still spiraled out of control, as they did at that moment. He buried his face in Elladan’s hair and focused on the long, slow caresses of his brother’s hand upon his bare back. Elladan’s voice and presence soothed him, and he took a deep breath as he felt the anxiety subside.
"Melin chen, Elladan," Elrohir whispered.
Elladan smiled as he stroked his twin’s hair. "Melin chen, Elrohir." He placed a gentle kiss upon Elrohir’s head. "Come, let us get you into the bath so we will not be late for dinner."
Elrohir nodded. He rose from the bench to follow Elladan into the bath and stopped, tugging upon his twin’s hand. "How will I look Glorfindel in the eye now, Elladan? He must think me a fool."
Elladan smiled and gently shook his head. "Nay, gwanunig. He would never think that of you, he loves you like a son."
Elrohir smiled sheepishly and nodded. "I know you are right, but I am still humiliated by how I behaved."
Elladan tugged upon Elrohir’s hand. "Come, Elrohir, one day and one task at a time. For now, let us just concentrate on bathing."
Elrohir smiled and nodded as he followed his brother into the baths.<
~*~*~*~
Spring, Year 180, Third Age, Greenwood the Great, Realm of Thranduil
Legolas awoke on the bed next to his father; he had fallen asleep watching him the night before. He was worried for Thranduil. His father carried on his duties as king, watching over his realm and his subjects; but he rarely did anything for himself, rarely took time to relax or take care of himself in any way. As he watched his father sleep, he heard him mumble quietly; he seemed to be plagued with dreams that were both disturbing and sad. He heard his father cry out softly for Oropher and then again for Gildor. Legolas knew neither of these elves, though he had been told stories about Oropher since he was an elfling. One thing he knew for certain, Oropher had Thranduil swear an oath, then shortly after, he died saving his son’s life. That oath had something to do with his mother and with him, and he could sense Thranduil felt he had failed his father in someway.
He reached out and brushed a stray wisp of hair from his father’s face, then tucked his hand back underneath his head. He knew Thranduil would be unhappy with him for staying up all-night and worrying about him, but he could not help it; his father was the most important thing in his young life. Thranduil stirred, and Legolas heard the sound of the guard returning. He sat up upon the bed and listened intently as he heard the captain tell Thranduil’s second that an escort was arriving. He rose from the bed and peeked out the window of the talan. The guards looked as if there had been a skirmish of some sort, and he decided to wake his father.
He picked up his quiver and bow then gently nudged his father. "Ada? Time to wake, we have guests."
Thranduil blinked and looked up into Legolas’ eyes and smiled. He could not remember how many times he had seen this sight, his son waking him from sleep with his bow and quiver, Legolas’ gentle smile and bright blue eyes always warmed his heart. "I am awake, Iôn. Who is here?"
"I do not know, Ada," Legolas answered. "But it looks as though we there has been a battle of some kind."
Thranduil threw back the covers and quickly rose from the bed. He pulled his leggings on before removing his robe, and Legolas handed his tunic to him. "Are there wounded among them?" he asked hastily, as he quickly pulled on his boots.
Legolas shook his head. "I cannot tell, but I do not think so."
"Come, Greenleaf," Thranduil took his son’s hand. "Let us see what has happened."
~*~*~*~
Gildor slid from his horse and winced as he reached up to pull his small pack from his gelding’s back.
"My lord, let me take that for you," the young Silvan guard took Gildor’s pack and asked him to follow.
"Are you all right, Gildor?" Orophin asked as he walked up behind the Noldo.
Gildor reached out with his hand and clasped Orophin on the shoulder. "Yes, mellonen. I am fine, thanks to you."
Orophin smiled shyly and looked at the ground. "I was but doing my duty, Lord Gildor. I am a marchwarden, that is what I do."
Gildor chuckled softly and drew Orophin up beside him. "Come, mellon. It is time to greet the king, and I may need your help still."
Orophin walked alongside Gildor and furrowed his brow. "Is there… unease between you and King Thranduil?"
Gildor’s smile faded and he answered quietly, "There did not use to be, but I fear he will not be so happy to see me now."
Orophin nodded and walked with Gildor toward Thranduil’s talan.
~*~*~*~
Pen-neth = young one
Rawen = my lion
Melethen = my love
Meleth = love
Seron vell = dear lover
Gwanunig = twin
Melin chen = I love you
Mellonen = my friend
Mellon = friend~*~*~*~
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