Title & Chapter Number: Razor's Edge Trilogy 2: A Kiss in the Darkness 2/2
Author(s): - Author's Index
Website: Hith a Naur
Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or items from the Tolkien world. They belong to their respective copyright holders.
Warnings: Slash
Betas: Silvara, the most patient beta in existence...
Cast: Erestor/Glorfindel, Erestor/Gildor Implied
Timeline: Winter of Fourth Age
Spoilers: None
Summary: In Arda, Glorfindel battles his demons, while in Valinor, Erestor must come to grips with a past more sordid than he knows.
Notes: This follows the "One Step Closer" trilogy. This trilogy will answer all the questions and more. ^^ There is a companion trilogy staring Haldir and Celeborn, since they made an appearance in "One Step Closer" and in "Razor's Edge." I will be posting "Before The Dawn" sometime next week, after all four parts of this trilogy have been released. I hope everyone likes the finale! ** A thank you goes to Ilye for pointing out a small, but important, omission on my part. **...** denotes a memory
Tirion - October 30th, 68 of the Fourth Age
Erestor had spent a month sequestered in his rooms, allowing only Gildor in. The Councilor felt awful. He could no longer lay with Gildor and knew the warrior did not understand. With all his memories came the realization of his bond with Glorfindel... or Ecthelion's bond. It made the whole relationship very muddled and Erestor wished he could clear his head.
As he lay in bed, Gildor's warm body pressed against his, Erestor would be awake far into the night. Visions of the past flitting before his eyes.
**Beside the Fountain, dipping his fingers in the cool water and bringing the moist digits up to the blond's lips, a shudder running through him when Glorfindel would wrap his tongue around his finger.**
**Tumbling in the grasses in Nevrast with his childhood friends, playing children's games and running to his Nana with scrapes and bruises from rough play.**
**His first assignment to Turgon's Royal Guard in Nevrast, the pride in his Adar's eyes as he was given the uniform to wear with the honor.**
**His somber upbringing in Lindon, where his Adar kept the house cold and dark after the death of his mother. His only retreat were his studies and his books, the dreams of a vast white city populating his imagination.**
**Elrond's desperate touches and needy kisses, begging him to alleviate the pain of Thranduil's departure.**
**Defending his home, his House and men, fighting and fighting, his arm aching, his shield lost. The fear and panic when the fire drake broke in and Tuor fell back.**
**Elladan and Elrohir running to him, crying that Haldir was being mean and Rumil was yelling at them for not paying attention.**
**Glorfindel spread out before him, face flushed with desire and his name on his lips, "Ecthelion..."**
**Being named the Chief of his proud House and the defender of the King's Fountain. Glorfindel and Haldir celebrating far into the night, laughter and friendship, love and life.**
**His Balrog-slayer touching him, caressing his skin and whispering how beautiful and exotic his large, dark eyes were. Forcing whimpers and desperate pleas from the proud lips of the pale, noble Noldo who ran Elrond's home with military efficiency.**
**His lungs filling with the cold water, his armor pulling him down into the depths of the Fountain. He had not seen Glorfindel or Haldir escape, had not seen Tuor or Turgon flee. Gondolin was lost. He was lost.**
**Eyes wild with anger, flashing with an inner fire that caused him to tremble. His jaw aching from the blow, fighting the tears and the shame as he lay sprawled on the floor, his glorious warrior towering above him...**
Erestor sobbed into his pillow, wishing Glorfindel were there to comfort him, to ease his fears and his hurts. Instead, he felt Gildor pull him closer, kissing his hair and telling him he was not alone, that he and Elrond loved him and would not let him sink into his despair.
The Councilor turned in his friend's arms and brought his trembling hand to the warm cheek. "I do love you, Gildor. You and Elrond. But, I need him. I chose not to remember our bond because it would hurt too much to be without him. And still, here I lay in Valinor... without my soul, without my light."
Gildor leaned in and gently kissed Erestor's lips, just holding the sorrowful Elf close and rocking him slowly. Soon, Erestor's eyes grew vacant and he entered a troubled reverie, filled with bright, azure eyes and a heart-breaking smile that had set him on fire long ago in Nevrast.
~*~*~*~
Imladris - November 2nd, 108 of the Fourth Age
Celeborn, along with Haldir and his brothers, and the Peredhil twins, stood anxiously around the room waiting for some sign from either Thranduil or Glorfindel. The two had been locked in trance for over half a day; neither had moved other than to breathe or to blink.
The Mirkwood King, after understanding the danger to Glorfindel and to them all, had insisted on aiding the other Elves in their task. Between the two powerful Elf Lords, they had succeeded in bringing the Elda back from the brink, if only just. Both of their powers had been dwindling since leaving the forests to which they were bound, but together, they could draw upon more than either one alone.
Slowly, gradually, Glorfindel had regained some measure of control over his swirling thoughts and the dark desires that plagued him. That was the only thing that made this day possible. Thranduil and Celeborn had pooled their resources in order to push Thranduil's Fëa into Glorfindel's. The Mirkwood King had argued that the only way to heal the Balrog-slayer was from the inside. After much discussion, Celeborn had reluctantly agreed. With Glorfindel more coherent, they were able to create a solid link rather than constantly fighting to force their way into the Elda's mind.
Failure would mean the death of both Elves; worse than death, as their Fëai would be completely shredded -- unmade, wiped from all existence. This was Thranduil's requirement. He was coming out with Glorfindel or he wasn't coming out at all. The risk was too great that the Balrog could infect his Fea as well, and Celeborn was nowhere near powerful enough to hold back both their transformations.
Once Celeborn had confirmed that the fusing was successful, there was nothing to do but wait. And pray.
~*~*~*~
Thranduil shrugged off the freezing cold of the blizzard, but had to struggle to keep his footing nonetheless. He trudged through the barren wasteland, leaning into the biting wind that threatened to throw him from his feet and bury him in the blinding snow.
Metaphorically speaking, of course. The entire scene was a mental contrivance from within Glorfindel's Fëa; a subconscious attempt to stop Thranduil's advance into the Elda's mind. None of that mattered especially at the moment, though. The scene still *felt* real, and the consequences of failure were just as deadly.
Abruptly, the wind stopped. Thranduil, his weight pushed forward, fell onto his face. Instead of hitting snow, though, the smell of fresh grass assaulted his senses. The Sinda pushed himself up and looked around. He was surrounded by trees on all sides; the snowy tundra had disappeared completely.
Thranduil stood up and smiled. "Forest. I can do forests."
The Mirkwood King started through the woods at a much increased pace, weaving through the trees and avoiding patches of thorny brambles and clinging ivy with relative ease. More than once, he caught a glimpse of a blonde Elf running through the forest, but when Thranduil turned to give chase, the Elf was gone.
As he ran, Thranduil noticed that the ground cover became thicker, the canopy more oppressively dark. Thick vines began to block his path, but Thranduil would not be diverted. He may not have had the ability to affect the environment the way Glorfindel could, but he could still affect himself. With but a thought, Thranduil pulled a pair of intricately engraved short swords from the sheathes that simply appeared on his back. He continued through the forest, cutting his way through the vines as he went.
When he emerged into sunlight again, he was standing in a cleft between two mountains. The way behind him was obscured by darkness, as was the terrain that lay beyond the pass.
"You should not have come here, Thranduil King."
Thranduil turned and saw Glorfindel to his right, standing near the top of the mountain. He was wearing thick leggings, knee-high boots, and a warrior's tunic emblazoned with a crest that Thranduil had only ever seen in woodcuttings and history books.
"This is the Cirith Thoronath, isn't it? This is where all this started," he called up.
Glorfindel walked down the mountainside as he answered. "Fitting, wouldn't you agree? Nice sense of symmetry to it all. Circle of life, and all that."
"So what happens next?"
Glorfindel stepped from the slope onto the pass several yards from Thranduil. He turned away, looking into the darkness. "Any time now, the Balrog should be coming for me." Glorfindel looked over his shoulder, a deadly calm penetrating his voice. "If I were you, I wouldn't be here when that happens."
Thranduil stepped closer. "I'm not leaving here without you."
Glorfindel turned around to face the Sinda. "Then you aren't leaving."
"It's beginning to look that way."
"You're a fool, Thranduil. What did you hope to accomplish by coming here?"
Thranduil did not mince words. "To save you."
"There is nothing left to save."
"If that were true, you would not be here."
"I've always been here. I never left."
"You feel guilty. That's clear. You think that you ran away and left Ecthelion and all the others to die."
"Of course not. I saved lives. Haldir and Earendil survived because of me."
"But Ecthelion didn't."
Glorfindel looked down. "No. Ecthelion didn't."
Thranduil pressed his advantage, the realization coming to him from the tone of the Elda's words. "You watched him fall."
Glorfindel nodded.
"And it broke your heart."
Another nod.
"You wanted to die because it hurt so badly," Thranduil continued, not waiting for a response. "You led the Balrog away from the pass, but you did not fight your best. You wanted to die, so you let it take you down with it."
"It won't have to work so hard this time."
"So that's it. Glorfindel of Gondolin, the great warrior, sworn enemy of evil, has given up to a Balrog of Morgoth."
"It's beginning to look that way," Glorfindel replied, mocking Thranduil's earlier comment.
"I can't let you do that."
"And how will you stop me?"
Thranduil answered by rushing Glorfindel, swords drawn at the ready. Glorfindel barely had time to draw his blade before the Mirkwood King was upon him. Glorfindel blocked the first attack and spun adeptly to parry the second blade as well. Thranduil was an accomplished fighter, but he was clearly outmatched by the much older, more experienced Elf. Even with two blades, he could not even come close to Glorfindel.
"Is this your solution?" Glorfindel called out. "Kill me before the Balrog can? The end result is the same! It lives, and I die."
"Then why are you fighting me?"
"Because you are not worthy enough to defeat me."
"And the Balrog is?"
Glorfindel paused, clearly caught off guard by the question. Thranduil used the opportunity to step behind the Elda and slam the butt of his sword into the back of Glorfindel's head. "Sorry, old friend," he said as the golden warrior fell to the ground, "but if you won't fight it, I will."
No sooner had he made the statement than the Balrog stepped from the darkness. Thranduil put himself between the beast and the unconscious form of Glorfindel. The Balrog was clearly confused, as evidenced by the fact that it did not immediately attack. Thranduil took the offensive, forcing the creature to defend itself against this unexpected Elf.
Thranduil pushed forward relentlessly, driving the Balrog up the mountainside. Try as it might, the shadowy beast could not regain the upper hand. It was strong, but without the death of Glorfindel's Fea, it could never attain the full strength so well-known among its kind. Again and again it was driven back. Thranduil maintained his onslaught unhindered by the physical limitations that would have held him back outside of this realm of the mind, pushing the Balrog to the brink of the very same precipice that Glorfindel had first stood.
With one final drive, he forced the creature from the ridge, sending him into the darkness. Or, that had been the idea. The Balrog grabbed Thranduil by the hair, causing the Mirkwood King to slide forward toward the edge. He threw his weight back, but the Balrog had braced against the side of the abyss and pulled with all its might, and Thranduil continued to lose ground.
A glitter of something flashed in the corner of Thranduil's eye, and an instant later, the Balrog's hand released its grip, a sword impaling its arm. The creature fell alone, howling its anger and frustration until it could be heard no more.
Thranduil looked down to the pass and saw Glorfindel standing there, arm still outstretched from the throw.
"You're not going anywhere until I get a rematch," the Elda called up to him, a genuine smile on his face.
Thranduil shuffled down the slope, taking Glorfindel's offered hand. "You're on," he laughed.
~*~*~*~
Tirion - November 2nd, 108 of the Fourth Age
Manwë walked through the room and out into the brightly lit terrace. Gathered there were Turgon, Elrond, Gildor, and Erestor. The Vala smiled, seeing how much Erestor had changed since he had held the Elf as he sobbed. He was telling the truth that afternoon; he had a special fondness for the dark-eyed Noldo. Now, it was time for him to learn the rest of the story.
It had been years since Erestor had seen Manwë, but the effect was still as startling. The brilliant eyes regarded him with warm compassion and he felt himself smiling at the Ainu. He had never forgotten the taste of Manwë's lips or the comfort he had taken in the Vala's arms. He also knew that Manwë had something new to spring on him, he was just happy that his closest friends were to be there with him.
He and Turgon had immediately reconnected. Once Erestor had been able to mesh his two existences into one cohesive past, he felt drawn to the King. And Turgon was very receptive, eager to reclaim a great friendship he had sorely missed over the years. Although he felt an immense emptiness within him, he was consoled by his friends and their love for him. Manwë had told him that with his memories he would once again feel whole, and in a way he did. But, with those memories came a new sense of hollowness, a large chasm in his soul that cried for Glorfindel.
Manwë seated himself and leveled his gaze with Erestor's. "You once asked me what I meant when I told you that Glorfindel's Fëa was not the same as it was before he died. Do you remember?"
Erestor nodded. "Aye," he whispered. Manwë was discussing his love. Why would the Vala torture him so? He had spent over a century without Glorfindel and had long given up hope the warrior would journey to the Undying Lands.
"When Ecthelion-- when *you* fell, Glorfindel's Fëa was torn asunder. He was literally broken. But, he continued to fight, to defend Gondolin and his people. He fled with Idril and Tuor, taking Haldir and what few of his men were left. But, his heart was black... angry." Manwë's eyes narrowed. "He took on the Balrog, not out of duty, but out of a wish to die. To have the pain of his loss removed from him. When he fell, the Balrog infected the wound in Glorfindel's Fëa. Since Balrogs are fallen Maiar, it was the perfect way for the Balrog to ensure that his legacy would continue -- even after its defeat."
Elrond cocked his head to the side. "Glorfindel was not, is not, a Maia."
"Not in the strictest sense. Those Elves who are reborn and are offered the chance to dwell once more in Middle-Earth are all but Maiar. Their Fëa contain such power, such desire to aid their people that they can be corrupted just as a Maia could. And Glorfindel has been corrupted. He fights, as we speak, to regain his soul... to regain himself. The golden warrior is lost in his demons, in his grief."
Erestor let out a strangled sound and Elrond wrapped his arms around his friend, pulling him into his lap. "If this is true, why is Erestor not suffering the same fate? He defeated four Balrogs -- one the Lord of them." Elrond stroked Erestor's hair as if the Elf were a child, trying to calm the shaking figure in his arms.
"Ecthelion's Fëa was not broken. He drowned in that Fountain with a soul pure in his desire to protect his King and his loved ones. He fought valiantly, his death was the price for his courage. The Balrogs could not infect one such as Ecthelion." Manwë stood and knelt in front of Elrond, taking Erestor's hand in his. "You, my dear Elf, were so brave. Your final thoughts were not of yourself, not of your love, but of your city and how you felt you had failed them. Most who die such deaths do not think on things as others. They think on themselves. You did not." He brushed a lock of hair from the stricken face. "Have heart, pen-neth. I have told you all there is to tell. Now, you need to have faith in the Valar and their plans for you." He leaned in a kissed Erestor's cheek softly, smiling at him. "I must go now. If you have need of me, Erestor, call."
Manwë stood and took his leave of the Elves, walking silently through the rooms and disappearing before he reached the front door.
Erestor looked up into the chuckling face of Turgon. "What?" he asked, his brow furrowing.
"He must really like you. Not many can simply call for him and expect him to show up." Turgon's eyes sparkled.
Erestor felt his face heat up, embarrassed to have caught the attentions of such an illustrious figure. The group laughed then, seeing Erestor's discomfort, and the pouting Elf soon joined in, laughing and shaking his head as he slid from Elrond's lap.
~*~*~*~
Shores of Valinor - January 16th, 126 of the Fourth Age
Glorfindel set foot on the dock, following Thranduil, Melpomaen and Rumil. He breathed deep, feeling at home and at peace. It hadn't been an easy journey to get here. Even after Thranduil's unexpected aid, it had taken time to purge the last of the evil from him. It had been much easier, though, once the worst of it had passed.
He laughed quietly as Thranduil scolded his son and held him close, pleased to see the King show an expression other than a scowl for the first time in months. Try as he might, Thranduil was unable to best the golden-haired Elf as he had in the mindscape. He was, understandably, a little miffed.
Glorfindel saw the raven-haired Elf he had longed to see for years. Erestor stood several feet away, his eyes bright with excitement and love. He was sure the Noldo was there to greet Melpomaen or Thranduil, and since he did not see Elrond or Lindir, Glorfindel was sure there was no one there to greet him. Glorfindel hung his head slightly and made for the road into the city. He would need to acquire himself a dwelling.
Erestor's eyes clouded with confusion. Glorfindel was walking away from him? He rushed past the Elves gathered on the shore and made his way to Glorfindel.
"Glorfindel!" he called out, desperate for the Elf to stop.
The Elda stopped and turned, shocked to see Erestor coming up to him. "What is it, Erestor?"
The cool detachment in his lover's voice chilled Erestor. "What is wrong, Glorfindel? I came here for you... I wanted... to see you."
Glorfindel looked away from the soulful eyes that had haunted him for endless nights. He remembered everything he had done and said to the only being he had ever loved, other than Ecthelion. He averted his eyes in shame. His guilt was doubled with the unconditional love he saw shining in Erestor's gaze. "I didn't think you'd want to speak with me."
Erestor threw his arms around the Balrog-slayer. "Why would you think that, meleth-nin?" He inhaled deeply, relishing in the scent that was solely Glorfindel, almost like heady hot-house flowers.
"Meleth-nin?" he whispered, his eyes wide and glistening with tears. He slowly brought his arms around Erestor's waist, burrowing his face in the long, thick ebony locks. "Meleth-nin."
Erestor squeezed him tight. "No regrets. I understand."
"But, I hurt you ---"
"You'll hurt me more if you reject me, faun-nin." He pulled back and smiled at the odd look Glorfindel gave him.
"Faun-nin? Only Ecthelion called me that... called me his cloud..." he trailed off. "Why did you call me that, Erestor?"
"There is much I need to speak to you about, Glorfindel. Come with me." He began to pull the bewildered Elda with him.
"Where are we going?"
"Home, a'maelamin, home."
~*~*~*~
Glorfindel woke with the sun the next morning. He looked fondly at the Noldo sleeping blissfully at his side. Maybe it was his imagination, but he swore that he *could* see traces of his lost lover reflected in Erestor's face.
He was still somewhat in shock over the news that his past love and his current were almost the same person. The 'almost' was important, the Elda thought. Erestor and Ecthelion were two different people, and while there may be some similarities, Glorfindel still had to remember that fact. It would be difficult, Erestor had told him last night, but they would get through it.
Erestor stirred under Glorfindel's gaze. His eyes slowly regained their awareness and he blinked. A sleepy smile crossed his lips when he looked at Glorfindel. "Good morning," he said with a yawn.
Glorfindel slid a fingertip down Erestor's cheek. "Yes, I rather think it will be."
The simple touch set Erestor's desire aflame. "And what makes you think that?" he teased.
"This does." The Elda leaned in and kissed Erestor sweetly. Their lips parted and their tongues brushed across each other, warm and moist. Glorfindel wrapped his arms around Erestor's shoulders and pulled the Noldo closer. He could feel Erestor's arousal hot and hard against his thigh. "Mmm..." he murmured. "That does, too."
Erestor chuckled, reaching over to brush his hand over the Elda's stiffening rod. "And what about this?" he asked playfully, wrapping his fingers around and stroking gently.
"That most *certainly* does," Glorfindel replied with a gasp.
Erestor laughed and began to slide down the bed, tilting his head toward Glorfindel's groin. The golden Elf stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, no, you had that last night. It's my turn now."
Glorfindel kicked the sheets off and pulled the Noldo between his legs, causing Erestor to laugh again, a bright tinkling sound in the early morning air. "My, aren't *you* eager?"
"Why should I not be? I have missed you in my bed for far too long, meleth-nin."
Erestor wasted no more time. He retrieved the phial of oil from the floor where it had been placed the night before. He quickly lubricated his fingers and rubbed them against the tight opening to Glorfindel's ass.
The Elda gasped at the coolness of the liquid, then again when Erestor pressed a finger inside him followed by a second. Glorfindel shifted his hips to allow his lover to penetrate him more fully, reaching down to caress Erestor's arm with his fingertips.
When Erestor was satisfied that Glorfindel's passage was sufficiently prepared, he poured another palmful of the oil and coated his cock thoroughly. Settling back onto his knees, Erestor eased the head of his erection into the Elda's warm sheath. Glorfindel moaned and began to slide down the bed, pulling Erestor further into him until the Noldo's thighs were pressed against his own.
Erestor took Glorfindel slowly, sliding out of him and then back in with agonizing patience. At the same time, he stroked his oil-slick hand over Glorfindel's shaft, keeping the same slow pace. Erestor watched his lover's eyes slowly flutter shut and he squeeze his hand more firmly, causing Glorfindel's eyes to snap open. He smirked at the flushed being beneath him. "Look at me," he panted.
Glorfindel stared into the depths of Erestor's ink-black eyes. It was immensely erotic to watch him, seeing his body shift with each controlled thrust. The rhythm Erestor had set was enough to keep him on edge, but not quite fast enough to bring an end to the sweet torment. Glorfindel thought he would drown in the half-lidded, lust misted eyes.
The Councilor was not unaffected by the situation. He had to exert all his control not to move them to a quick release. Erestor had waited over a century to feel the Elda around him again and he wanted to savor their first opportunity. Glorfindel's lapis orbs watched him intensely, his eyes unfocusing and glazing over when Erestor would trust particularly deep. Erestor began to notice things he had never seen before, like how Glorfindel's pink bottom lip was caught between white teeth in an effort not to beg Erestor for release.
He smiled wickedly at his lover. "Amin mela lle, Glorfindel," he whispered, leaning in to capture the alluring lips with his.
Glorfindel groaned into the kiss, pressing against Erestor in an attempt to silently plead with him to finish it. When Erestor pulled back, his face inches from the Elda's, eyes filled with love and desire, Glorfindel lost his pride.
"Saes... Erestor..."
Erestor shuddered, hearing the golden warrior ask, to see the tears of frustration shimmer in the bright gaze caused Erestor's cock to throb within its tight confines. "Saes mani?"
The blond let out a keening moan, fighting with himself. Erestor would not grant him what he wanted unless he asked for it. "Saes, Erestor..." he pleaded. "Finish it..."
Erestor chuckled deep in his chest, his eyes still not wavering from Glorfindel's. "Sui iestach, meleth-nin." Erestor began to move his hips in a more frantic pace, stroking Glorfindel firmly and quickly.
So close to the edge were both the Elves that their release came almost immediately, Erestor pouring himself into Glorfindel as Glorfindel coated Erestor's hand with a flood of his own juices. They fought to keep their eyes open, gazing deeply at each other throughout their mutual orgasms.
Panting and exhausted, Erestor rolled beside Glorfindel, heedless of the mess that the motion caused. He looked to his lover, still breathing heavily, and grinned. "I think you're right."
"How's that, meleth?"
"It does appear that it will be a *good* morning."
~*~*~*~
*Elvish/English translations:
*Saes : Please.
*Saes Mani? : Please what?
*Sui iestach : As you wish.~*~*~*~
End "A Kiss in the Darkness"
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