Title: Gohen : Redemption
Chapter: Prologue
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: orchydconstyne@hithanaur.net
Website: http://www.hithanaur.net/
Update List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nairn_orchyd/
Fandom: LOTR
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or items from
the Tolkien world.  They belong to their respective copyright holders.
Archive: LoM, OEAM, AFF.net, Melethryn
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warnings: angst, vampy-ness
Beta: Ilye, Fimbrethiel
Cast: Erestor/Maglor
Summary: The continuation of Darthol i Aur.  We see how Erestor and
Maglor have continued after Darthol ended.
AN: This is, once again, Vesta's fault -- as well as Kit's.  No one
seemed very happy to see how Darthol ended, and there were a lot of
questions sent my way.  I hope this will answer those questions, as
well as give you something to think about when it is over.  :)

---

Prologue

It is raining.  It always rains here.

I shelf another book and proceed with the next.  Several new additions
to add this week, and I wonder how Marcus is fairing.  Leaving him
alone in the apartment is never a good idea; the guy doesn't sleep
much, and he can sure make a mess.

A mess *I* have to clean up.

The phone rings and I sigh in exasperation.  The fates enjoy annoying
me, I think.  I rush to the front counter, picking up the portable
telephone.

"Seattle Antique Books, this is Vincent.  How can I help you?"

I write down the name of the book the young woman is looking for,
adding her name and her phone number to the note.  No, we do not have
that in stock, I inform her, but I will be happy to let her know
should a copy come into my possession.  No, I do not have anything 'in
the back'... there is no 'in the back'!

She hangs up as I promise once more to call when the book comes in.

I return to my shelves, placing the books in the correct sections.  It
is not a large shop, my bookstore.  But, it is mine.  I feel at peace
around the ancient tomes, even if Marcus thinks I have lost my mind.
'Books!  All you do is read your books!' he usually exclaims when he
finds me in the old, overstuffed chair by the window in our apartment.
And I invariably roll my eyes, pick up my mug of hot tea, and return
to my book.

For someone so educated, Marcus hates books.

He says he hates history.

I say he is afraid of history.

We avoid the topic of books unless he is poking fun at me while I
read.  Which I allow; it amuses me when he does it.

I put the last book up and look out of the windows at the front of the
store.  It's still raining, but the light has left the sky.  Almost
time to close up for the day.

I hear his footsteps coming down the stairs that connects our
apartment to my little haven of history.  His grey eyes meet mine, and
he smiles.  He is beautiful when he smiles.

"Are you done with your books?" he asks, brushing long, dark locks
back from his shoulders.

"Yes, I am," I reply coolly.

He rests on the counter, watching me finish up for the day.  "Will you
come with me?"

"Later."

He sighs and cups my cheek with his hand, bringing our lips together
for a brief kiss.  "Then I will see you later, love."

I smile and nod.  "Yes.  After ten."

"Ok."  He slips on his duster and picks up an umbrella.  "Be careful,
Erestor.  Drive carefully."

I nod again.  "I will.  I love you, Maglor."  It is a phrase I do not
say too often, but it feels right tonight.  He winks at me as he steps
out into the Seattle night, head bent and umbrella up.

TBC...

Chapter One

He walked through the club.  It was not like an ordinary nightclub.
This was a respectable establishment.  Tables and chairs were
strategically placed around the intimate space, consisting of a small
dancing area, a well-stocked bar, and live, classy entertainment.  The
lights were low, and there were dozens of people watching the figure
up on the stage.  Erestor's eyes were drawn to the singer whose low,
musical voice crooned about lost love.

Maglor's tall, pale form was huddled around the microphone, his eyes
heavy-lidded and his body moving in a sensual sway.  The music
accompanying him was deep, slow, throbbing.  It called to Erestor's
blood and set him on edge; it called to the hunger within him.  His
dark eyes raked down Maglor's body.  He was clad in crimson silk; the
poet shirt was tucked into skin-tight black jeans and black boots
poked out from under the pant legs.  The dark sable tresses hung free
about Maglor's slender, aristocratic features, and glittering grey
eyes held the audience captive.

The last son of Fëanor to walk Middle-Earth was a sight of gothic
beauty.

As Erestor came closer to the stage, the glances cast his way were not
lost on him.  If Maglor was gothic beauty personified, Erestor was
living darkness.  He was fluid, graceful, tall and fell.  His black
eyes took in all activity around him, unblinking and hard.  His black
tresses were tied neatly back from his face, though he hid the pointed
tips of his ears with carefully placed locks.  A simple, thin black
dress shirt covered his torso, the silk hanging perfectly from his
body.  Just like Maglor, his lower body was hugged in tight black
jeans, though his feet were covered with fine leather loafers, not
heavy black boots.

Erestor slid into a chair by a table in the corner.  He scanned the
surrounding mortals, sensing from each what had brought them to the
club this night.  The progression of time and necessity had worked to
hone their particular talents and gifts, and now Erestor could skim a
mortal's thoughts with a lingering glance, while Maglor's ability to
influence emotion through song and music became eerily acute.  Such
nights as this were now part of an intricate dance between Maglor and
Erestor.  As Maglor sang, distracting his audience with his spell of
sound, Erestor would seek a partner for them for the evening.

Partner, of course, was a contrivance to hide the true meaning.  It
meant that they had to feed.  Mortal blood, sadly, was a pale and
bland thing compared to the richness of Eldarin blood.  As the world
that had borne them slipped from history into myth into fiction,
Maglor and Erestor had been forced to feed more often to sustain
themselves. By now, it had become a nightly occurrence.  Finding
victims from which to feed naturally became more difficult as well.
To that end, Maglor had purchased a failing nightclub and converted it
into this haven for "alternative lifestyles" that they called
'Melindor' as a private joke between them.  The ancient Quenya word
for "male lovers" seemed an appropriate title, even if no one else
remembered it.

It amused Erestor in a sad sort of way to witness how societies
through the ages attempted to deal with those with preferences
contrary to the majority.  In varying measures, so-called "civilized"
society tried to ignore them, shun them, destroy them, and "cure"
them.  Yet for all of that, there was never a shortage of that
particular type of Man whose loves ran to those of the same gender.
For instance, the gentle-faced youngster sitting at the bar nursing
the same drink for the last fifteen minutes.  Erestor brushed across
the preoccupied mind.  It seemed that David had been rejected by his
lover of the past year.  That lover had bristled at the suggestion of
a long-term commitment, and left David in order to return to his
estranged wife, who David had known nothing about.

Erestor subtly attracted Maglor's attention and indicated the young
man with his eyes.  The elder Noldo nodded almost imperceptibly, and
turned slightly, focusing his power on the single target.  Erestor,
meanwhile, stood from his chair and wove through the crowd with
catlike grace, easing gently onto the barstool beside David.  The
tawny-haired mortal had turned to stare at Maglor on the stage, drawn
by the power infused into that silky voice, and had not noticed
Erestor at all.  Only when the song ended and Maglor stepped off the
stage to enthusiastic applause did David blink and realize that the
empty stool beside him was now occupied.

"I apologize for startling you," Erestor began coolly, "but you seemed
so engrossed that I didn't want to disturb you."

"What?  Oh, the music.  Yes, I guess I was," David stammered.  He
moved to hold out his hand, and seemed surprised to find that it still
held his drink.  He tossed the double back in a sudden, jerky motion
and set the glass back on the bar, and then offered his hand again.
"I'm David," he continued.  "Can I buy you a drink?  Least I can do
for not noticing you there."

Erestor shook David's hand, favoring the youngster with a sly smile.
"No, no, I insist.  My stake in this club should be worth something."
He signaled the bartender for two drinks identical to the one David
had just finished.  "I am Vincent Laurel.  Pleased to meet you,
David."  Erestor wrapped his lips around the name as though he could
make love to the word itself.

David's eyes widened.  "You're Vincent Laurel?  *The* Vincent Laurel?
Half-owner of this place?  Wow!  You're virtually a legend at the
Pride Foundation.  I've volunteered there a few times, and there was
hardly an hour that went by that someone didn't mention your name or
the hundred thousand dollars you donated to help them get started."

"And to think, Vincent, you wanted to donate it to Greenpeace," Maglor
teased as he approached Erestor from behind.  He placed his hand on
his partner's shoulder and smiled at David.  "Are you going to
introduce me to your new friend?"

David's jaw fell open.  "Oh, my God.  You're Marcus D'amras!  I'm
David, David Selman."  He clasped Maglor's free hand in both of his
own and shook it vigorously.  Maglor shot Erestor an arrogant smirk;
Erestor simply rolled his eyes.

Maglor retrieved his hand from David's overeager grasp and reached for
one of the shot glasses -- now numbering three, thanks to the
attentive bartender -- and raised it as a toast.  David quickly picked
up his own glass, and Erestor followed suit a moment later.  "To the
Power of Pride," Maglor said simply.  He started to bring the glass to
his lips, and then playfully added, "And money."

The three shots were drained and the empty glasses disappeared from
the bar soon thereafter.  Maglor leaned down to Erestor and said,
deliberately loud enough for David to hear, "Vincent, love, I'm half
dead.  What do you say we get out of here and grab a coffee
somewhere?"

It took only the subtlest nudge of preternatural influence for David's
mind to fill in the rest.  He cleared his throat just as Erestor was
opening his mouth to reply.  "Umm... look, if you two don't really
have any plans, you want to drop by my apartment?  I mean, it's not
much to look at, but it's only three blocks from here, and my lover --
well, my ex-lover -- always said I made a hell of a cup of coffee."

Maglor shot David another of those killer smiles, and Erestor was
certain the Man was going to burst into flames right there.  "What do
you say, Vincent?" he asked needlessly.  "Fancy going for a stroll?"

Erestor forced a smile.  Now that the moment was so close, the hunger
began to gnaw at him.  His control was never as finely honed as
Maglor's, and he struggled with it even into this modern Age.  "By all
means.  Lead the way, David."

They followed the Man to his apartment, a small, modest loft.  It was
sparsely furnished, and David continued to apologize for how shabby he
thought it was.  Erestor smiled at the nervous youth.  "Don't worry
about it, David.  Really.  It's lovely in its simplicity.  Too many in
this day and age believe material possessions equal class."  Erestor
leaned in close, inhaling the musk of his soon-to-be bed partner.
"And that is by no means true," he finished, his lips inches from the
flushing Man.

"D-d-do you want decaf?" David managed, still rooted to the spot,
staring at Erestor's full lips.

Maglor moved around behind David, whispering into his ear.  "No, we
are not interested in coffee, dear David.  We are interested in...
other delicacies we hope you don't mind indulging us with."

David's eyes seemed to glaze over as Maglor spoke, and Erestor's
hunger burned.  "Other... delicacies?" the boy asked quietly, his pink
lips parted and moist.  Erestor could no longer resist and closed what
little distance there was between them, kissing David slowly.  He
slipped his tongue into the hot, eager mouth that tasted of vodka, and
sensually stroked and caressed David's mouth.  Through half-lidded
eyes, Erestor watched Maglor bend his head to David's throat, kissing
and sucking his way up the slender neck.

It was a seduction they were well acquainted with.

Erestor left David's mouth, stroking the dazed Man's cheek with his
fingers.  "Where is the bedroom?" he asked, lapping at the swelling
lips before him.

David blinked twice, surfacing from the fog of desire the two Elves
had submerged him into, and led them back behind the kitchen.  The bed
was large, and made, which actually surprised Erestor.  He had thought
the boy would have still been too depressed to bother with such
cleanliness.  David stood between the dark beings again, moaning
quietly as his clothing was slowly stripped from him and his skin was
teased by lips and hands.  Before long, the three had moved onto the
bed, David still between them, their hard and nude bodies pressing
together.

Maglor pulled a condom from his jeans and handed it to Erestor,
smiling darkly at his partner who continued to coax the Man into a
sexual frenzy.  Erestor nipped at David's ear, looking into the hazel
eyes, pupils wide and his gaze glassy.  "I am going to fuck you now,
David," he informed him simply.  David whimpered and nodded, the
youth's cock twitching with the words.

Erestor scooted back to rest himself against the headboard, rolling
the thin piece of latex down his shaft.  As he stroked himself through
the condom, he watched Maglor prepare David.  The Man was exquisite,
and Erestor thought the lover who left him was missing so much.  David
mewled as he was stretched and lubricated, his eyes focused entirely
on Erestor's dark gaze.  Erestor could feel David's need, his desire
to please and be pleased.  This one was special.  Maglor moved away,
wiping his hand on the bedspread.  "We want to pleasure you, lover,"
the elder Noldo said, his deep voice like liquid fire.  Erestor pulled
David back against him, allowing the Man to face Maglor while Erestor
impaled him from behind.  He sunk easily into the young, tight body,
and a low moan slipped from his lips while David cried out in
pained-pleasure.

They set a languid pace; David rode Erestor's length with skill.
Maglor crawled between their spread legs, taking David's neglected
arousal into his mouth.  As he undulated his throat around the firm
flesh, wringing sharp cried and whimpered pleas from David, Erestor
brought his lips to David's shoulder.  He nipped and kissed up the
soft skin until his lips rested over the tender meat of where David's
throat met his shoulder.  Erestor's blazing eyes met Maglor's for a
moment before his fangs sank into David, the pain of the puncture
almost immediately swept away by the lust in Erestor's mind invading
David's.

David continued to grind against Erestor, his eyes closed as he
brought himself closer and closer to climax.  Maglor let David's shaft
fall from his lips, though he continued to stroke him with his hand.
He sought instead a spot on the Man's thigh where there was no danger
of puncturing an artery.  When he located a safe area, he bit into the
flesh, his mouth flooding with the rich, coppery fluid and his mind
reeling with the sexual potency of David's blood.

As they fed, David was unaware of their activities.  He moved
relentlessly on Erestor's length while Maglor stroked his own.
Finally, Erestor pulled away from the boy, swiping his tongue over the
seeping wounds until the pinprick marks stopped bleeding.  As David
stiffened in Erestor's arms, his seed coating Maglor's hand, the elder
Noldo released David's thigh.

The sandy-haired Man fell back against Erestor's chest, already in a
deep, sated sleep.  Maglor helped David off of Erestor, and they
carefully put him to bed.  They dressed and removed all trace of their
presence from the loft.  Still high and aroused from the feeding, the
two Elves quickly and silently returned to their little home above the
bookstore.  Though Erestor could have reached his own completion with
David, he had held back.

Tonight, he was Maglor's.

Smelling of sex and blood, Maglor pulled Erestor along, entering the
small bathroom.  Steam filled the room as they stripped, tossing their
clothes carelessly to the floor.  Hot water pulsed down their pale
bodies, and their mouths met in a fierce kiss.  Maglor forcefully
turned Erestor around, running his hands along the slick back.

"You enjoy the game, don't you?" he asked, his fingers resting against
the entrance to Erestor's body.  "Teasing them, working them up into a
frenzy so we can take what we need."  Maglor suckled on Erestor's neck
as he pressed into the eager body.

Erestor moaned loudly.  "It is a game you taught me," he panted, his
cock still achingly hard.  "Why should I not take pleasure in it?"

Maglor breached Erestor's channel with his length, burying himself
easily into the body he had loved for centuries uncounted.  He reached
around Erestor's body, taking the heated flesh in his hand, and
stroked in time to his furious thrusts.  "You tease me," he whispered
harshly into Erestor's ear.  "Do you not think I can sense it,
Erestor?  Hmm?  Your thoughts rolling through their mind, enflaming my
passion through their blood?"

"You know you love what I do," Erestor replied, crying out sharply as
Maglor squeezed his hand.

"You are a dark one, melethen," Maglor said, his voice hitching as his
orgasm approached.  "You always were."

Erestor pushed his slick length through Maglor's fist once more, his
hand reaching out to steady himself as he spilled himself over the
talented hand.  As his body convulsed around the thick shaft filling
him, Maglor hugged him close, his essence flooding the younger Noldo.
They remained in the position, locked together, their hearts beating
as one; the Man's blood still was coursing through their bodies.

The water began to cool, and Maglor withdrew from Erestor's body.
They washed quickly and in silence.  Once dry, they fell into the
soft, large bed they shared.  The sunrise was still a few hours off,
and Maglor held Erestor close in the quiet of their room.  Soon,
reverie found them, though Erestor's sleep was troubled.

It was always troubled.

Blue eyes, full of warmth and laughter, haunted his rest.

Eyes he simply wanted to forget.

TBC...

Chapter Two

They woke late.  It was a day off for them both.  Sundays were lazy
days, even for them.

The two Elves had a routine, a sense of domesticity to their daily
lives.  Maglor brewed tea in a press while Erestor separated the trash
into the recycle bins.  Erestor chose some eggs from their
refrigerator, stocked with organic, locally grown foods, and Maglor
prepared whole grain toast.  The food would not nourish them, of
course, but the bounty of this world was not to be denied.  They
chatted idly, scrambling eggs in a bowl and pouring tea into delicate
china cups.

It was almost normal.

Maglor shooed Erestor to the small terrace outside their living room.
He slathered the thick pieces of hot bread with cream cheese, piled a
tray with their breakfast fare, and joined his lover outside.  The sun
had risen, though Maglor could smell rain still in the air.  Erestor
squinted as he looked into the grey sky.  He lowered his dark gaze to
the tall Noldo setting the table.

"It always rains here," he said, lifting the tea to his lips.

Maglor sighed and sat down.  "You didn't like LA.  You didn't care for
Chicago.  And let's not speak of how you behaved in Miami."

Erestor set his cup down firmly.  "Well, those poor dolphins!  What
did you want me to do? "

The elder Elf lifted a berry from the tray and threw it at the
indignant librarian.  "Eat your breakfast."

They ate in silence, looking out over the city.  When Maglor finished
his second helping of toast and eggs, he spoke.  "What do you plan to
do with your day?"

"I am not sure.  There are books I should catalogue," Erestor said,
pouring them each another cup of tea.  "But, I know how you feel about
my books."

Maglor smirked into his cup.  "Yes.  I feel about them as you feel
about the television in the living room."

Erestor scoffed.  "Come now, Maglor.  Why on earth would you need such
a big thing?  Your genitals are perfectly satisfactory, so I am not
sure why I had to sacrifice most of my wall space for that
monstrosity!"

"That television *does* have the History Channel on it.  I got the
extended cable package specifically for you, you know," Maglor shot
back.

"Of course!  And it has nothing to do with the fact that you can watch
Queer as Folk on no less than 8 different Showtimes!"  Erestor stacked
the tray and re-entered their apartment.  "For someone so revered for
his poetry and music, you are a historical dud."

Maglor laughed, closing the doors behind him.  "*I* am a historical
dud?  I wrote of the plight of the Noldor, don't forget.  I recorded
our histories until I felt smothered by it!  You, though -- you hide
in your archaic books, never seeing the world around you.  Times have
changed, and you either change with them, or you are left behind."

The younger Elf slammed his hand on the counter.  "I would not be here
if it were not for you!" he shouted.

"No!  You would have died in that pit!  You would have wandered about
Mandos' Halls for an Age and then be reborn into the perfect world you
have so idolized in your mind!  This song and dance is becoming old,
Erestor."  Maglor walked up to Erestor, forcing the dark eyes to meet
his.  "We have survived.  Be content with that."

Erestor pulled from Maglor's grip.  "Content with what?  This?" he
asked, gesturing about them.  The rooms were an eclectic mix of modern
and antique -- a meshing of the old world and the new.  The massive
plasma television had an early-century radio resting atop it; the sofa
was supple leather and beside it was a table Erestor had picked up in
the early 1600's, the controls for the television and DVD player
resting carelessly on the dull surface.

Maglor rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.  "Really, Erestor.  Every
decade or two, we go through this.  And always on the same day."  The
elder Elf leaned in, his face near the shocked librarian's.  "Oh yes.
I know what day this is, lover.  It's the day--"

Without thinking of his actions, Erestor swung his hand, palm open,
landing a solid blow to Maglor's left cheek.  They stared at each
other in stunned silence, the sound of the strike resounding in their
ears.

"Do you feel better now?" Maglor asked, his eyes cold and distant.
"Can we return to our lives or will you wallow in your self-pity?"

Erestor looked away, swallowing hard.  "Forgive me," he whispered.  "I
did not mean--"

Maglor held up a hand.  "Yes, you did.  I'll be at the club; I need to
go over some records and the payroll."

Without another word, the elder vampire donned his jacket and walked
out.  The door did not slam as Erestor expected, but fell silently
closed, which was almost worse.

*****

The club was empty except for the bartender, who was in the back,
taking stock of their supplies.  Maglor sat at the bar, hunched over
the highly polished surface, staring into his empty tumbler.

"'I would not be here if it were not for you!'" he sneered, imitating
Erestor.  "Perhaps not," he mumbled drunkenly.  "But, had it not been
done, you never would have met *him*, would you?"  Maglor picked up
the half-empty bottle, focusing on the black Bushmill's label.  "*I*
am a historical dud?  No, my dear Erestor, I think I am a well-rounded
individual.  *I* can appreciate a twenty-one year old whiskey, after
all."  He went to pour more of the amber liquid into his glass, but
stopped himself.  "Fuck it," he said, bringing the bottle to his lips.

As he sunk further into his alcohol-induced stupor, his mind began to
wander.  Maglor did not like to become this drunk; to become so drunk
would mean his memories would surface.  His memories were not
something he cherished.

No.

They were meant to be forgotten.  But, this afternoon, the whiskey
helped his take a giant leap into his past.

*****

Maedhros looked at him over the rough table.  Chill wind blew through
the open window, and the sound of screaming children assaulted his
hearing.  He sighed and covered his face with his hands.  "We are the
last, tôren," he whispered.

The elder Elf nodded.  "And we will not survive under this oath,
Maglor."

"What do you suggest we do?"  Maglor fixed his grey gaze on his
brother's.  "A foolish decision, was it not?  We have watched each of
them die, and I am sure we will see each other die as well, before
this curse has run its course," he laughed bitterly.

Maedhros looked out the window, his eyes far away.  "We could just
stop."

Maglor's brow furrowed and he looked at Maedhros in confusion.  "What
do you mean 'just stop'?"

Those haunted eyes turned to him, a sad smile on the proud face.  "Who
says we cannot just *not* do this anymore?  We have seen the folly
that has led our father and brothers to their doom, and we can choose
not to follow them.  We can make amends, tôr dithen, and regain our
place!"

"Maedhros, I do not think it is so simple..." Maglor said hesitantly.
"We swore, tôr iaur; we took an oath."

"Our *father* took an oath, Maglor.  We and our brothers followed him
out of loyalty.  And look at the reward their loyalty has given them!
I choose to be loyal to myself!"  The tall Elf leapt to his feet and
crossed to the window in a single stride.  "Do you hear me?" he
bellowed into the night. "I renounce my loyalty!  I renounce my oath!"
Maedhros turned flashing eyes on his brother.  "You see?  I am still
here!  I am free, tôr dithen!  Now, do you join me, or join our
father?"

Maglor let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.  Just
words.  Nothing mystical or sacred loomed about their fates.  They
were just words!  "Aye, brother, I will follow you.  I renounce my
oath," he said softly, forcing the statement past the sudden lump in
his throat.

Maedhros turned back to the window and Maglor closed his eyes, letting
out a long, shuddery sigh.

"So be it."

Maedhros spun around and Maglor's eyes shot open, only to find his
sibling's vacated seat now occupied.

And there was no mistaking who sat in the wooden chair.

"Námo," Maglor whispered, his heart beating swiftly with fear.

The Vala's bright blue eyes were fixed on Maglor's large grey ones.
He wore only a simple tunic and his dark hair was free, hanging to his
waist.  "Aye, Kanafinwë."  Námo turned then to Maedhros, seeming to
ignore Maglor.  "Nelyafinwë.  Just as proud as you always were.
Melkor did nothing to quell that fire that burns brightly in you."

The copper-haired Elf stared defiantly at Námo.  "Why have you come,
Lord of Mandos?"

"Why, to grant your request," Námo replied, blinking as if in
surprise.  "You have asked to be released from your oath.  And so you
are.  You need no longer fear sharing the doom of your brothers."

Maedhros smiled ferally at his brother.

"However," Námo continued, "your choice is not without its
consequences."

"What consequences?" Maglor asked with a slight quaver in his voice.
He watched Maedhros' smile fade from his lips, and saw the first hint
of true fear in his brother's eyes.

Námo's demeanor stiffened.  "You have a very large debt to repay,
Kanafinwë.  You both do.  You wish to make amends?  You will have that
chance, but only on my terms.  You and your brother have spilled
rivers of Quendi blood; now that blood must be cleansed from this
world."

"And how are we meant to do that?" Maedhros snapped.

"By drinking it, naturally."

Maedhros pounded the table with his fist.  "What madness is this?
Speak not in riddles!"

The Vala stood up slowly, and the room seemed to grow darker.  "I
speak only the truth, Nelyafinwë, literal and complete.  Your body and
that of your brother will no longer find nourishment from the food and
drink of your kin, but only by consuming their living blood!"

Maglor stared in stunned silence.  Even Maedhros stepped back in
shock.  The elder Fëanorian recovered quickly, though.  "I see your
truth now, Vala!  We escaped the prison of your Doom, so now you
revenge yourself by inflicting upon us this... vilification, this
filth!"

A smile crossed the Vala's usually impassive face.  "Why this
reaction?  You have preyed upon your kin for centuries; now you merely
have to do it yourself instead of commanding armies to do it."

Maglor could sense Maedhros was about to unleash another tirade
against the Vala, and he gently laid a hand on his brother's thigh to
silence him.  His eyes silently pleaded with Maedhros not to risk
angering Námo further.  Maedhros nodded reluctantly, and stood behind
Maglor's chair while Námo continued to lay out the nature of this
punishment.

He reiterated that they could still eat and drink the food of their
youth, but that only by drinking the blood of living Quendi or Atani
would they be able to sate their hunger.  They would become creatures
of the night, able to move about by day like any other, but not
without some measure of discomfort and weakness.  The night, though,
would be their domain, and they would dominate it utterly.  "Lest you
think that I am without concern or compassion, I will not abandon you
to this fate as you are," he explained.  "I have petitioned the other
Valar for such gifts as they might bestow upon you at this parting.
For you see, as long as you shall bear this mark upon you, you shall
never be permitted to return to the Blessed Realm."

The two Elves gasped at this.  Their father may never emerge from the
Halls of Waiting, but he at least had a hope of once again walking the
shores of Valinor.  Maedhros gripped Maglor's shoulder, but could not
bring himself to say anything at this pronouncement.

"Manwë grants you the speed of the winds; Tulkas, the strength of the
mountains; Aulë, sure-footedness and agility.  Oromë will give you the
claws and fangs of a predator, and Varda will light your eyes in the
darkness of night.  Vána confers upon you eternal agelessness
surpassing even that of your race.  Yavanna's gift is a friendship
with the birds and beasts of Arda.  Estë seeks to ease your guilt at
feeding from others by bringing pleasure to both you and your victims
during the act.  Vairë gifts you with the ability to cloud the memory
of those around you, while Nessa bestows the power to influence their
emotions with voice and music, and Irmo offers passage through his
realm into the dreams of others.  Nienna regrets that her gift does
not compare to others', but has vowed to protect you both from the
weariness of spirit that the long stretches of time would otherwise
burden you with.

"Understand that the path you will walk," Námo continued, "will be
longer than any who have come before or will come after you.  Not only
will you be ageless, but because of *my* gift to you, death will only
find you in the primal fires of Arda or should a shaft of cold steel
cleave your heart."

Maglor and Maedhros shared a quick glance.  It was not lost on them
whose name was missing.  Ever the friend of the Teleri, Ulmo was
unlikely to grant them any assistance.  More probably, judging by the
look on Námo's face, the Valar had had to restrain him from creating
some worse punishment.  Maglor had to admit a small amount of relief
at that; there were doubtless worse fates to which they could have
been condemned.

His message delivered, the Vala's stern composure began to crumble.
He walked around the table and embraced Maedhros firmly, then pulled
Maglor to his feet and did the same to the younger Elf.  When he
stepped back, tears glistened in the corners of his eyes.  "Whether
you believe it or not, the journey we send you on is far better than
the one your brothers have chosen.  Namárie, nildonyar.  I fear we
shall not meet again while the world yet remembers you."

Námo walked out the door and was gone.

*****

Maglor stared blearily at the bottle still in his hand, still half
full.  "And we never did," he growled out, drawing back and throwing
the bottle into the far wall.

"That was a hundred dollar bottle of whiskey you just shattered."

The drunken vampire looked up to see his dark lover standing in the
doorway, arms crossed and eyes veiled.  "No," he replied.  "That was a
five hundred dollar bottle of whiskey I just shattered."  Maglor stood
when Erestor slowly walked to his side, his eyes cast to the floor.
"Why are you here, Erestor?"

"I came to ask you to come home," Erestor said quietly.  "It is late."

Maglor laughed.  "'Late'.  You say that as if it means something to
us.  Do you mean you want me to come back to that farce we call a home
and argue with you as if we were a married couple?"

Erestor was silent for a moment while they stared at each other, but
he finally broke the eye contact.  "You are my lover."

"No, I am your corrupter -- or did you forget that?" Maglor demanded,
grabbing Erestor's shoulders and shoving him against the bar.  "Tell
me, is your pain so much worse than mine, Erestor?  You wouldn't know,
now would you?  You have never asked!" Maglor spat.

"Maglor," Erestor began in a soft voice, becoming pliant within
Maglor's grip.  "With you, I forget the pain for a while.  Do you
never find a respite from the pain when you are with me?"

Maglor made a sound that was between a sob and a groan as he captured
Erestor's lips in a brutal kiss.  He swept passed the younger Elf's
lips and tasted him deeply; it was a taste uniquely Erestor, of cream
and vanilla, even after the slighter Elf had fed.  Maglor fumbled with
the buttons on Erestor's jeans while Erestor did the same to his.
"Up," Maglor panted against Erestor's lips and the librarian braced
his arms on the bar top, lifting his body off the floor so Maglor
could strip him of his pants.

The moment the dark jeans hit the floor, Erestor's bare legs snaked
around Maglor's waist.  Maglor pressed the head of his shaft against
Erestor's backside.

"Wait!" Erestor cried, reaching behind the bar and grabbing a bottle
of olive oil.  "I cannot tell you," he said, pouring a small pool of
oil into Maglor's hand, "how much I appreciate you deciding to serve
cold foods in this place."

Maglor coated his length and smiled down at his lover.  "You were just
tired of walking out of here with a sore bottom."

Erestor groaned and clung to the counter as he was penetrated roughly.
"You should try it sometime," he managed before Maglor began thrusting
quickly within his body.

"I have," Maglor whispered, bending down and kissing Erestor again. He
took the Elf's hard flesh into his hand and stroked firmly; this was
not about tender lovemaking.  This was simply how they made up after
an argument.

Erestor reached his climax first, crying out his pleasure into
Maglor's waiting mouth.  He trembled in the older Elf's arms as Maglor
withdrew and plunged back in with violent force, spending himself deep
in Erestor's passage.

They rested like that, Erestor hanging onto the bar, his legs tight
about Maglor's waist, and Maglor's arms around Erestor's back, still
joined together.  Maglor raised his head, kissing Erestor softly on
the lips.  "Yes," he said.  "You ease my pain."

TBC...

Quenya/English

Namárie, nildonyar : Farewell, my friends

Chapter Three

He rolled out of the bed, his head pounding. It had been a week, and
his head still ached. He stumbled into the bathroom, relieving himself
while leaning his forehead to the wall. He fought back a wave of
nausea before pushing away from the toilet, moving to the sink to
brush his teeth. No time for a shower this morning; his guest should
arrive soon, so he shaved and washed his face quickly.

In the mirror, the face looking back seemed haunted. Tired. And he
was. He leaned his head to the side and peeled back the bandage. The
bruising and swelling had finally gone down, and the two small wounds
were almost gone. He put his foot on the edge of the tub and removed
the gauze from his thigh, revealing a similar wound.

Two names formed in his head immediately: Vincent and Marcus.

David poured himself a cup of coffee and walked into his small living
room. He pulled out a large book and laid it on the low table by the
couch, along with his mug. He retrieved a few-weeks-old Seattle Gay
News, a pair of scissors and some archival tape. David made himself
comfortable on the sofa, sipping the coffee as he turned to one of the
last pages in the large book.

Slowly and deliberately, David cut an article from the newspaper. He
trimmed it, read it for the hundredth time, and then adhered it to the
empty page of the book. The article showed Vincent, smiling brightly
for the camera, with the head of the Pride Foundation; it told of the
generous donation and all the work Vincent Laurel had done for the
community.

While he waited for his guest to arrive, David idly turned back the
pages in the scrapbook. There was the Miami tabloid article about the
famous Dolphin Incident, of course. A few pages before that was a
photocopy of the passenger manifest for the Italian cruise ship
Antonia Doria. Two names in particular were highlighted: Marius
D'amras and Vincenzo Laurellio. Both names were followed by the words
"PRESUMED DECEASED". Presumed, of course, David thought, since the
Antonia Doria and all 1,753 passengers and crew disappeared without a
trace in the mid 1960's.

More pages back, and Marcus and Vincent's faces stared back at him
from a faded black-and-white photograph. They were standing on a
gangway, waving as they boarded a steamship. The picture was slightly
out of focus, but not enough to blur the letters "RMS Titanic" on the
side of the massive liner. Several pages before that was a yellowing
newspaper clipping dated October 9, 1871. The city of Chicago had been
engulfed in flames the previous night, and the article spoke of the
heroism of individuals who tried to fight the blaze and rescue
survivors. The picture accompanying the article showed a figure
cradling a child in his arms -- a figure with Marcus' face.

David's personal favorite, though, was at the very beginning of this
volume. The first page held an authentic "Wild West" wanted poster.
The sketch was badly out of proportion, but to anyone who had met the
man himself, it was clearly Vincent Laurel. According to the poster,
Victor Logan was wanted by the authorities in Kansas City for "crimes
of an unspeakable nature". David had spent many hours wondering
exactly what could have been bad enough in those times that they could
not be spoken of. Whatever they were, though, the Kansas City police
apparently satisfied their desire for justice because the facing page
held Victor Logan's death certificate with a notation that he had been
"hanged by the neck until dead".

He was still musing over the possibilities when he heard the knock at
the door. His guest was finally here. David set the scrapbook on the
table and went to open the door.

"I want to see these wounds. How are you feeling? Any aftereffects?
Have you seen them since then?"

David was pushed to the side as his father stormed into the loft
apartment. "Hello to you, too, Dad."

*****

Maglor heard Erestor's distinctive chortle for the third time in as
many minutes, and finally had enough. He had few guilty pleasures, but
the Sunday New York Times crossword puzzle was one of them. It was
very difficult, though, for him to remember an eight-letter word for
"Gounod vocal composition" with his hyena of a lover braying in the
next room. Huffing in annoyance, he placed the newspaper on the side
table and stood the quill he'd been using in its place beside the
inkwell. He got out of the recliner, wiping his blackened fingertips
against his faded blue jeans rather than risk damaging the T-shirt
that proclaimed "Dragon: The Other White Meat" that he bought at the
local Renaissance Festival three years ago.

The small personal library was directly off the living room, and
Erestor had left the door open, as usual. Maglor leaned against the
doorframe and was about to scold him for it, but words simply failed
him. Erestor lay draped across the overstuffed chair, head resting on
a pillow against one arm, and legs crossed hanging over the other. He
wore his favorite black silk pajama bottoms, and his chest was bare
and smooth, almost glowing in the lamplight. He had not noticed
Maglor's approach, or at least gave no notice of it. Maglor leaned in,
trying to catch the title of the book that Erestor found so amusing.

"Oh, Valar, not *that* again!" he groaned.

Erestor looked up from his battered and dog-eared copy of The
Silmarillion. "What?"

"Why do you keep reading that rubbish?"

"Excuse me, you *lived* this rubbish, remember?" the younger vampire
chided, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I lived *that*," Maglor insisted, pointed a slender finger to a
large red book on the far shelf, wedged between "Screw the Roses, Send
Me the Thorns" and "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix".

Erestor followed Maglor's finger with his eyes, and then shrugged.

Maglor rolled his eyes. "All right, then. What is it that you find so
amusing that you feel it necessary to chortle like a madman?"

"This whole passage about Ecthelion is hilarious. Do you know, it
actually says that he killed Gothmog on *purpose*? As though he would
consciously decide to stumble head first into a Balrog and then fall
backwards into a fountain! Not to mention, this makes it sound like
that fountain was 50 feet deep! It was barely chest deep, and he
managed to drown in it."

"Well, he did have a Balrog lying on top of him."

"He was also drunk at the time."

"And how do you know that?"

Erestor cocked his head toward the far shelf, indicating the same red
book Maglor had pointed to earlier.

Maglor shifted his weight, moving slightly away from the doorframe.
"Really?" he asked with genuine interest in his voice. "Maybe I should
read that one after all."

The black-eyed Elf laid the book on a side table and regarded Maglor
coolly. "I don't think you'd enjoy it that much. There aren't any
pictures at *all*."

"Ha ha. Watch out, or I'll rig the DVD player to replay The Council of
Elrond over and over and turn the volume way up. Again."

Erestor groaned. "Oh, all right. I need a brandy. Do you want one?"

"Do I ever say 'no' to that question?"

Erestor stood and started for the door. "No, I asked 'Do you want
brandy? ', not 'Do you feel randy?'" he teased, earning him a swat on
the backside from Maglor as he passed.

Maglor noticed that Erestor had knocked the book onto the floor, and
he bent to pick it up. The book fell open in his hand at Erestor's
bookmark. Sure enough, there was Ecthelion in his heroic glory,
valiantly sacrificing himself to destroy the Lord of the Balrogs. His
curiosity piqued, he wondered about what this Tolkien fellow had to
say about the *real* hero of that day.

The elder vampire turned the page, and his mouth fell open. Erestor
had blackened the entire passage that would have dealt with the
passage through the Cirith Thoronath. Flipping back a few pages,
Maglor found other passages blacked out. He turned to the end of the
book, to the index. Sure enough, there it was -- one thick black mark
between Glóredhel and Golodhrim.

Erestor walked through the door again, carrying two snifters of
brandy. He stopped short, his eyes wide as Maglor held up the index of
the Silmarillion, displaying the dark mark.

"Was it *that* far off?" Maglor asked, his grey gaze boring into
Erestor's.

Erestor was still for a moment, and then kicked back the small amount
of brandy in one of the glasses. His eyes fell to the second glass,
which he promptly kicked back as well. Erestor calmly placed the
fragile glasses on the nearby bookshelf and said in a low, dangerous
voice, "Give that to me."

Maglor closed the book slowly, handing it to Erestor who snatched the
volume from him. "You have to talk about it eventually, Erestor."

Erestor purposefully turned his back to Maglor, retreating to their
bedroom with Maglor close behind him. Maglor's voice was tight, sharp
as he called after Erestor. " Dammit Erestor, how long do you intend
to keep this up? Pretending he didn't exist?" The book flew past
Maglor's nose, thudding heavily against the wall. Maglor took a deep
breath, willing himself to remain calm in the face of Erestor's pain
and anger. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, less harsh. "Why
do you do this to yourself? You wallow in the past, in those musty old
books downstairs. And yet, you deny your own past, no matter how much
it hurts you to do so."

"Let it go, Maglor," Erestor warned, his face tight with anger.

Maglor crossed his arms, his temper flaring. "How about this time we
*don't* let it go? How about you face up to the truth and tell me what
happened?"

Erestor looked out one of the large windows. "It doesn't matter. It's
done."

The elder vampire stepped forward, raising his voice at his lover.
"You loved that Elf for so very long!"

"Haven't you heard?" Erestor sneered. "This is the twenty-first
century; there is no such thing as Elves."

"Well, you sure as hell aren't Doctor Spock with those ears!" Maglor
spat.

Erestor shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's
*Mister* Spock, you idiot," Erestor said, waving his hands at Maglor.
"*Doctor* Spock wrote books about raising children!"

Maglor smirked. "Really? Did he ever write one on how to deal with
temper tantrums? Children in denial?"

"Yes," Erestor replied calmly. "It was called 'Leave Me the Fuck Alone
If You Don't Want A Steel Rod Through Your Chest'."

Ever the sarcastic one, Maglor replied, "Does it come in paperback? Or
better yet, Books On Tape?"

Erestor began making their bed... again. "You know, just go back to
your crossword, Maglor."

" Erestor!" Maglor yelled, grabbing the shorter Elf by the shoulders
and forcing him to meet his gaze. "He existed! You cannot wipe him out
by never saying his name, by crossing him out of books! He was real.
He was alive. He was your heart. He was your goddamn soul!"

" Fine!" Erestor cried out, tears forming in his eyes. "If I tell you,
will you fucking drop it? Forever? " he asked, amazing both himself
and Maglor with the extent of his vulgarity this day.

Maglor released Erestor's trembling shoulders, taking his lover's hand
in his and drawing him to the bed. Erestor rested his head wearily
against Maglor's shoulder and drew in a deep breath.

"1679 was when it started to go wrong," he began. "We were Prague. The
Black Plague was rampant; death was all about us. We didn't know then,
but there was another plague starting that year. A plague with only
one victim.

Glorfindel."

TBC...

Chapter Four

Prague , Kingdom of Bohemia, Winter of 1679

Glorfindel settled himself on the edge of the marble basin they used
for bathing. His azure eyes scanned the opulent bathing room, a smile
tugging at his lips as he drew the silver hairbrush through his golden
locks. Though he remained beautiful and his body was sculpted from his
years as a warrior for one king or another, he had begun to show age.
His hair was long and thick, shimmering in the candlelight, and his
features youthful in appearance, but Glorfindel could see it when he
glanced into a mirror.

He chuckled to himself. He did not appear as Círdan had when he had
last seen the Telerë; his face was still free from hair and the weight
of the years only marred his smooth features marginally. Glorfindel
did not truly care about his appearance. His only concern was
Erestor's happiness, for when Erestor smiled at him, all was right
with his world.

The Elda closed his eyes, slowly dragging the brush through the thick
mass, humming a cheerful Irish ballad he had picked up a few years
before. Erestor had taken him all over the continent, moving to a new
city when their presence began to cause the local to talk. They never
stayed more than a decade in any one place, and never returned to
cities before fifty years had passed. It was in their best interest.

The Inquisition had been keenly interested in them. Their relationship
could not be one of open love, since the acts they performed were
considered immoral and illegal. Religion, politics, disease and time
were all factors that forced them to conform, to hide themselves or
risk drawing attention to them. It weighed heavily upon Glorfindel's
spirit, but he refused to let Erestor see that burden. His lover
devised means to distract him, but there were moments when the long
years threatened to suffocate him.

He continued to hum to himself, the sounds of Erestor in the outer
room comforting him as he directed the servants delivering their meal.

A sudden clatter forced Glorfindel from his reverie and he looked down
into the bottom of the basin. The silver hairbrush rested on the
marble, glinting in candlelight. Glorfindel's heart sped and he stared
in wide-eyed fear at the hairbrush. He had not dropped it.

He knew he had not dropped the brush.

The brush had simply... slipped *through* his hand.

Glorfindel pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, forcing back
the tears. He took several gulps of air, steadying himself before he
reached down, his heart thundering in his chest. He reached down, his
hand trembling slightly, and he touched the cool silver.

The Elda picked it up, feeling the solidity of the item in his hand.

It had begun.

*****

Luxemburg, The Netherlands, Autumn of 1694

The weather was chill, but the room was glowing with the warmth of the
fire. Erestor held out a dried piece of fruit, watching with hungry
eyes as Glorfindel ate from his finger. The blond wrapped his tongue
around Erestor's fingers, removing the sweet fruit from the digits,
and smiling as he withdrew. Glorfindel's hair was untamed, his nude
body golden in the firelight, and his cheeks still flushed from their
lovemaking.

"You look like a debauched angel, love," Erestor said quietly,
crossing the small space between them on his hands and knees.

Glorfindel smirked, his midnight blue eyes dancing in amusement. "You
cannot possibly want to roll about on the floor again."

Erestor captured Glorfindel's lips and drank deeply. "I always want to
roll about, whether be on the bed, sofa or floor. To have you above
me, thrusting into my body and claiming me all over again, is heaven
in this dirty, worn out world."

The Elda moaned , his desire flaring as the vampire ravaged his lips.
Erestor leaned back slightly, his dark eyes intent on Glorfindel's
face. "What is it?" Glorfindel asked, smiling lazily at his lover.

"I am simply struck silent by the love I feel for you," Erestor
whispered, reaching out to cup Glorfindel's cheek. His features
darkened, though, as his fingers did not find the heated, slightly
damp skin -- simply suddenly cold air. Erestor snatched his hand back,
an iron vise of fear surrounding his heart. "When did this begin?" he
demanded, standing up.

Glorfindel drew his knees up to his chest, resting his hands on his
knees and his head upon his hands. He gazed into the fire, tears
shimmering in his eyes. "About fifteen years now."

Erestor's mind replayed the last decade and realized they had been
slowly moving west. "Why did you not tell me?" he hissed, crouching
before Glorfindel's weary face. "You should have spoken to me,
Glorfindel! How *dare* you keep this from me!"

"Tell you what, Erestor?" Glorfindel asked, his eyes narrowing. "We
both knew it was inevitable. We were loving on borrowed time, and I
did not want that time marred with regret. It is happening and there
is naught we can do; just accept it!" Glorfindel shot up and stormed
to the bathing room, but Erestor followed him.

"We do not have to simply accept it! Glorfindel, we continue to move
westward." Erestor jumped in front of Glorfindel, grabbing his lover's
face between his hands. "You will continue west," he said quietly,
looking into Glorfindel's blue gaze.

Glorfindel tore away from him, the tears finally falling. "No! No,
Erestor, I will *not* leave you! You cannot force me to go." The Elda
shook his head, deep sobs coming from his slender frame. "You cannot
send me away," he breathed out, his cheek slick with his tears.

The Noldo drew Glorfindel into a tight embrace, his own tears coming
silently. "You must go," he said brokenly. "If you remain here, you
will leave me forever. Go to Aman; go back to your family, your home."

"Go home?" Glorfindel pulled back slightly, staring down into the face
he had loved for over an Age. "What happiness is there if you are not
by my side?"

Erestor brushed the new tears from Glorfindel's cheeks, smiling sadly.
"I would rather know you are safe and well in Aman, Glorfindel, than
see you slip from me, never to be seen again by any. You will go, and
you will go soon."

Glorfindel shook his head again, burying his face into the crook of
his lover's neck. They slowly fell to the floor, Glorfindel curling
around Erestor's body while the dark Elf stroked his hair and
trembling back. The sadness of the golden warrior was palpable and
Erestor soon found his own tears falling into the shimmering hair he
would soon never see again.

The two, light and dark, remained on the cold floor, in a tight
embrace, shedding tears that their time in this world together had
ended.

*****

Brest , France , Summer of 1696

Night had come, and the lovers lay in each other's arms. The night was
warm, and they lay nude among the soft bedclothes. Erestor caressed
Glorfindel's face, his eyes never leaving the fair visage. They had
traveled for a month from their home in the Netherlands to this
seaside village in France.

During the last few years, since Glorfindel's admission, the Elda had
been restless. Only when that restlessness had become acute and
Glorfindel was practically clawing at the walls did they leave for the
sea. They had taken their time moving west, riding for five and six
hour days, dining together, and making love wherever they could.
Erestor would fight down the urge in the wake of their passion to hold
Glorfindel tight, to forbid the heartsick Elda from leaving him.

But, he knew this was best.

"Will you not have me tonight?" Glorfindel asked. Though Erestor had
always preferred to be taken by Glorfindel, they had switched
positions as of late. Glorfindel insisted on feeling Erestor inside
him, the possession he felt.

Erestor shook his head, a gentle smile on his face. "Nay, melethen. I
will not."

Glorfindel sighed, disappointment written in his eyes. "Why do you
deny me this?"

The Noldo let his hand drop to the mattress. "It would pain my heart."

"And mine is *not* pained?" Glorfindel pushed Erestor to his back,
straddling the vampire's hips. "It is the last night, my darkness. You
do not want to spend yourself in my body? Taste my life and love
coursing through my blood? Know that, even in Aman, my life and my
soul are ever yours?"

Erestor felt the tears fall from his eyes. "If I know that, I am
afraid I will not be able to let you go," he said softly, rubbing the
hollow of Glorfindel's hip with his thumb.

"When the sun rises," Glorfindel said, reaching behind his body and
fondling Erestor's length, "I will sail from you. We have this moment
left. Will you squander it?"

The dark Elf arched and moaned softly, his eyes closing slowly. "I am
yours," he panted, his shaft filling quickly. He heard the bottle of
oil open, the scent of lavender filling the room. A hot, slick hand
stroked him, and he opened his eyes to see Glorfindel watching him
intently.

"Do not look away," the golden one murmured, sitting up and
positioning himself. Erestor's eyes remained focused on the azure gaze
as Glorfindel slowly impaled himself; the Noldo sunk into tight,
velvet warmth, taking a sharp breath in.

Glorfindel rocked atop Erestor, his hands traveling over his own body.
Erestor reached for Glorfindel's erection, but his hand was pushed
away. "Nay," he breathed. "I will be alone for a very long time, and I
desire this memory to be what sustains me while I am far from you."
Glorfindel gripped his own length, stroking in time with his rocking.
"I will lie in my cold bed, tears on my lashes as I touch myself,
remembering the thickness of you, how you filled me so perfectly, and
I will find my release with bittersweet happiness."

Erestor began to thrust up, offering himself a little more friction,
though the movements were still slow. Glorfindel moaned, his thighs
tensing and the fluttering of his passage warned Erestor of his
release. Heavy, warm drops spattered over his belly and he watched
Glorfindel draw out his orgasm as long as he could. The Elda slumped
forward, nestling his face in Erestor's neck. Erestor held onto
Glorfindel's hips, thrusting firmly into the slack body.

"Feed from me."

The command was raspy, thick with emotion, and Erestor could not
refuse his lover. He bit gently, making the intimate connection he
would long for. His climax came upon him quickly, Glorfindel's own
lust and love spurring him upward to that peak. As his seed filled
Glorfindel's body, a wave of intense loss and sadness washed through
them. They clung to one another, crying softly, kissing each other
thoroughly and memorizing every contour and sound, smell and movement.

It would have to last them forever.

*****

Dawn came too soon. They dressed in silence. Erestor touched
Glorfindel's cheek, offering him a watery smile. "I love you. You are
my light and my life, my soul and all that is good about me."

Glorfindel's lips brushed his. "I love you, too. You are my darkness
and my life, my soul and all that is wonderful about me."

They gazed into each other's eyes until the sun drenched their room,
illuminating the golden warrior with her rays. They held hands and
walked from the room, strolling through the streets to the wharf. The
sea crashed, and the gulls shrieked above them. Erestor had purchased
a small ship, knowing that the actual vessel meant little. They stood
on the dock, still holding hands, eyes glistening with tears.

"I will come back for you," Glorfindel vowed, his voice firm even as
the first tear left his eye. "Even if I have to do battle with the
Valar themselves, I *will* come for you." The golden head dipped, and
the yellow silk of Glorfindel's hair mingled with the dark satin of
Erestor. A single kiss, deep and true, sealed Glorfindel's promise.
When they parted, Glorfindel took Erestor's hand and placed a ring
upon it. "I am Glorfindel of Gondolin, Chief of the House of the
Golden Flower and lover of Erestor, Chief of the House of Elrond, and
I pledge my fidelity, my love, and my heart to you. Even when the sea
sunders us."

Erestor swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled a shimmering
string from his pocket. He fastened the locket about Glorfindel's
neck, and whispered his own words. "I am Erestor of Tirion, Chief of
the House of Elrond and lover of Glorfindel of Gondolin, and I pledge
my love, my heart, and my soul to you. Carry with you this small bit
of me, to always know I am close, even when you cannot see me," he
finished raggedly, embracing Glorfindel tightly. "I love you."

"I love you," the golden Elf whispered.

They parted again, and Erestor watched in despair as Glorfindel
boarded the small boat. His dark eyes never left the golden figure
until he was no more than a speck on the horizon. When he was certain
Glorfindel could no longer see or hear him, Erestor crumpled to the
rough dock and let a tortured, anguished scream erupt from his throat.

His light was gone.

*****

Malaga , Spain , Winter of 1700

Maglor opened the door to his home and gasped. Erestor, who he had not
seen for six centuries, stood on his doorstep. His old lover's eyes
were dull and he was clad in all black. Erestor looked like death:
pale, dark, and lost.

What Maglor noticed was that the younger Elf was not accompanied by
his ever-present golden counterpart.

"Come inside, Erestor," he said softly, moving aside to let his
heartbroken companion inside. Erestor walked by him in a daze,
acknowledging nothing as he entered the heated home. Maglor gazed
outside, scanning the estate as far as he could, hoping Glorfindel was
merely lagging behind. When he did not see the blond head, nor sense
the pure light of the Elda, he realized what he had feared had finally
come to pass.

Glorfindel had passed from their world.

TBC...

Sindarin /English :
Melethen : My love

Chapter Five

Seattle , Washington , 2004

"Why did you never speak of this, Erestor?" Maglor asked as Erestor
finished his tale. He gazed at Erestor's long fingers, stroking the
palm of his lover's hand with his thumb. "Why did you carry this
sorrow alone?"

Erestor chuckled mirthlessly. "You could not ease my heart, Maglor. By
not telling you, I was able to just... forget it. Never speak of him,
never think of him..." he trailed off.

Maglor looked at both of Erestor's hands and his brow furrowed. "I do
not remember you ever wearing a band. Where is it?"

"I took it off before I reached Spain," the younger Elf said simply.

"Where is it now?"

Erestor's dark eyes swept to the small jewelry box on their dresser.
Maglor released Erestor hands and slowly walked to the mahogany box.
He opened it and shifted some of the items around; his eyes became
wide when he found what he was seeking. Maglor lifted the heavy
mithril ring from the velvet box and brought it to the bed. He turned
the intricate ring over in his hands, amazed at the detail and
craftsmanship shown in the small band.

"It was all that he had left of Gondolin," Erestor said quietly. "He
said that Rog, Lord of the House of the Hammer of Wrath, had it
crafted as a gift for the bright Chief Glorfindel. Ecthelion had one
similar, encrusted with glittering diamonds."

The band shimmered with topaz, diamond and emerald, creating a domed
golden glower surrounded by green leaves. It was beautiful. "Why do
you not wear it?" Maglor asked.

Erestor brought his stormy eyes level with Maglor's. "How could I? A
daily reminder of what I lost."

"No! It is a daily reminder of what you had. Something so precious and
sacred; do not let it go because there is pain associated with it."
Maglor took Erestor's left hand and slid the band onto the ring
finger. "Though it is not our custom to wear such things upon this
finger, I believe this century demands a slight change in our ways.
Wear it, Erestor. Think of him. He loved you; how could you wish to
forget that?"

The librarian looked at his hand, adorned once again with Glorfindel's
mark. Glorfindel. He had not spoken the name in over three hundred
years. Maglor tenderly cupped Erestor's cheek and brought their lips
together in a sweet, loving kiss. Erestor opened his mouth, inviting
Maglor to deepen the kiss, which the elder Noldo happily did.

They shed their clothing, their touches light and hesitant. Though
Maglor had taken Erestor to bed thousands of times, this time felt
much different.

Maglor knew it was not him Erestor saw, thought of as his body was
breached and filled. Though Erestor clung to him, cried out and
writhed under his hands, Maglor knew it was a golden ghost Erestor saw
behind his closed eyes. He took Erestor carefully, gently, nipping and
suckling at lips, chin, neck, shoulders. Maglor did not speak, just
gazed at the dark beauty he had bound to him in darkness.

He pressed their bodies close, his belly offering Erestor the
necessary friction to slowly move toward his completion. Maglor
brushed his lips over the high, proud cheekbones and lightly kissed
the tip of Erestor's nose. He rarely watched Erestor closely when the
coupled. Their trysts were typically hard, fast, furious and rolling
in the euphoria of their feeding. To not have a mortal's lust roiling
in their blood, spurring them on, was a rarity and Maglor gazed
lovingly down at his bed partner.

That Glorfindel had loved Erestor for so long was of no surprise to
Maglor. That Erestor had been determined to put that love from his
mind had been. Maglor thrust deeply, groaning as Erestor arched
beneath him, the younger vampire's muscles fluttering around his
length. "Bright and shining, gold and sapphires," Maglor murmured
against Erestor's temple. "Your light, his darkness."

Erestor whimpered. "Do not speak of him."

"Come with his name on your lips, Erestor," Maglor encouraged, lapping
at Erestor's lips.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can."

Erestor shook his head, his chin trembling.

"If you do not, I will stop, Erestor. I will leave you like this. I
know your thoughts turn to him now, to the memory of his girth within
you, not mine. Call his name." Maglor pumped inside the confines of
Erestor's body with more force, lying heavily above his lover. The
younger Noldo's erection pressed hotly into Maglor's belly and he felt
it swell further. "His name."

Erestor arced sharply, his lips parting as he spilled his seed between
their bodies. "Glorfindel!" he cried out, the name a raw and bleeding
wound upon Erestor's soul.

Maglor groaned and buried himself to the hilt, his own orgasm
shuddering through him. He held Erestor tight to him as the Elf cried,
centuries of mourning rushing in and swallowing Erestor completely in
sorrowful memory.

The sun was low in the sky and the room was bathed in reds and oranges
when Erestor finally raised his swollen eyes from Maglor's shoulder.
"I have never asked. Was there a great love in your life, melethen?"
he inquired softly, running the pad of his thumb over Maglor's full
lower lip.

The grey eyes closed for a moment, hiding the pain briefly from
Erestor's keen gaze. When he opened them again, Erestor was still
watching him. He answered honestly. "Aye. I had a great love."

"Did he love you?"

"Aye, he did. And I him. Deeply and completely we loved one another,"
Maglor said sadly.

Erestor nuzzled Maglor's neck, cuddling closer to the broad body.
"What happened?"

Maglor was silent for long moments and Erestor thought he would not
answer. "What had to happen. His destiny was separate from mine and we
parted ways long ago, before the earth changed."

In the late afternoon sunlight, bound together in grief, they held
each other, lost in their memories.

*****

David sipped his tea, his eyes scanning the small, cozy room. His
father, Graham Selman, stood near the open sliding glass door leading
out to a patio, drinking his beer and staring at his son. The other
three men in the room watched him just as closely.

Terry, his uncle, sat in an easy chair, his brown eyes dark and hard
as he regarded his nephew. His uncle had never been fond of him; he
had even thought Graham was insane when he brought David to his first
meeting. But, David was smart, and he proved himself time and time
again to the group. He had even gone so far as to receive his Masters
in History, studying any and all areas of the world. His skills were
now invaluable, but Terry would never admit such a thing.

On the small loveseat sat Michael and Eric. Michael was a
fifty-year-old businessman; he was powerful, influential, and his
money backed their little 'organization'. Eric was his smartass son,
barely twenty-two, who was afforded more respect and consideration
than David was -- and David was seven years older than Eric. They had
known each other from a very early age, but they had never been, and
would never be, friends.

"I can only see one course of action," Terry finally said, his eyes
narrowing slightly. "David has to leave Seattle. Now that they know of
him, have tasted him, he cannot continue to observe them. He will give
us away."

David gazed at him in shock. "Leave Seattle?" he asked, looking to his
father who was nodding.

Graham finished his beer and tossed it into the trashcan. "You can't
stay here, son. I mean, what good is an observer who can't observe?
No, you should go to Spokane and stay with your Mom until they move
on."

"Dad! I am not going to pack up and move in with Mom. I have a job, an
apartment, friends... I am not going to be shuffled off to Spokane
because I happened to make contact with them," David insisted.

Michael cleared his throat and sat forward a bit in his seat. "David,
it is not wise to remain here. They know where you live--"

"Yes! They do. And I know where they live. Hell, we know every move
they have made over the past 150 years! And we know that because *I*
found out. Not your money, Michael; not your connections, Dad; and not
your family histories, Terry. We know what we know because I searched,
I scoured, and I spent endless years finding their trail." David stood
and glared at his father. "I will not be sent away because I dared
what none of you would."

Eric scoffed. "As if you did something amazing. You walked into a gay
club, David. You let them seduce you and then bite you. What is so
noble about that?"

"David," Graham began, eyeing his son suspiciously. "Why did you seek
them out, and what exactly happened?"

He knew his face was flushed, and he would not meet anyone's gaze. "I
wanted more than logical observation," David said hesitantly. "I want
to know them; I want to know what they have seen and experienced. So,
naturally, I went to Marcus' club. Vincent hit on me; I invited them
back to the loft and..." he trailed off. He could not finish his
statement. No one knew he was gay, and this was not the venue to
announce it.

"And what?" Eric prompted viciously.

"Yes, what, David," his father urged, though David could see the cloud
that had passed over Graham's face. His father had a pretty good idea.

David swallowed visibly. "We had sex," he said simply.

Terry chocked on his drink. "You didn't like it, did you?"

"Actually, I did," David admitted, finally meeting his father's eyes.
"They weren't my first, if that's what you are wondering," he said
softly.

Graham cleared his throat. "You will go to Spokane, David," he said
calmly. "You will not argue with me, and we will discuss this later."

"No, Dad. We will not discuss this later. There is nothing to discuss.
I am gay, and I will not move from Seattle," David said firmly.

"Do not disobey me," Graham said in a low voice.

David lifted his chin defiantly. "I am twenty-nine, Dad. You can't
just order me about. I have done your dirty work, and I find them
fascinating. I will see them again, and I will learn whatever they are
willing to teach."

Michael stood. "If you do not agree to move to Spokane, you will no
longer be welcome in this circle."

"As if I ever was," David said bitterly. He walked to the door. "I am
keeping my research, and I will be moving. Don't try to find me.
Hell," he sneered, "I doubt the four of you could find an elephant in
a bookstore. What am I worried about?"

David slammed the door and quickly made it to his car. He sat in the
plush interior, his mind whirling. No longer would his every move be
dictated by the group; he was now free to pursue Marcus and Vincent to
his heart's content.

He smiled to himself as he started the car, backing out of the
driveway and heading toward the loft. His heart raced in his chest and
he fidgeted as he drove. The sun would not set for hours yet, but
David was eager for night to come.

Tonight, he would visit Melindor again.

TBC...

Chapter Six

David sat at the bar, sipping his drink, and scanning the crowd. He
had come to Melindor every night for the past week, trying to catch
Marcus' attention. The dark singer had not spent much time after his
sets carousing the floor as he usually did, and David thought the
handsome man seemed restless. His hazel eyes followed Marcus' figure
as he wove through the crowd, wrapping an arm possessively around the
slighter frame of Vincent, who had just entered the club.

His heart sped up as he saw the two men kiss softly in the shadows,
oblivious to all those around them. David had not seen Vincent in the
club, so he hoped this was a good sign. He wanted to speak with them,
touch them, be touched *by* them. David kicked back the rest of his
drink, declining another, intent upon the couple in the dark corner.

*****

"He is here again," Maglor said quietly. "Every night he arrives when
we open and leaves with the last of them. He watches."

Erestor reached out, brushing the mortal's thoughts. His brow creased
and he looked to Maglor. "He seeks us."

" Aye." Maglor leaned in close, brushing his lips along Erestor's ear,
reveling in the shiver it sent through his lover. "I must return to
the stage. Be careful of him."

They kissed once more before Maglor took the stage again and Erestor
mingled. He spoke with several of the employees, made small talk with
some of the regular patrons, his eyes always flickering to David. The
sandy-haired Man still sat perched on his stool, his eyes focused on
Maglor's sensually writhing form on the raised platform. Erestor took
a moment to admire his lover's movements, growing aroused as they
sparked memories of those types of movements in a much different
position.

He looked away, leaning against the bar and ordering a drink, ignoring
David's presence several barstools down. When the bartender handed him
his drink, Erestor made his way along the bar, purposefully passing by
David. As he walked by, though, he heard the Man speak -- far too low
for any to hear *but* him.

"I remember."

Erestor continued to walk, as if he had not heard the Man. He calmly
entered the dressing area next to the stage and waited patiently for
Maglor to come to him. He sipped his Bloody Mary, but the amusement of
such an apropos drink was suddenly gone. If David remembered their
night together, then he knew what he and Maglor truly were. That meant
they were compromised and would soon be forced to relocate yet again.

The alternatives were unthinkable.

It didn't take long for the music to end, the applause to sound, and
Maglor to stroll into the dressing room. He looked at Erestor's stern
expression, the half-finished drink and then sighed. "All right. What
happened?"

"He remembers," Erestor said simply, playing with the celery stalk in
his drink. Maglor lifted an eyebrow as he stripped out of the mesh
shirt and leather pants, revealing his nude form. "You know, you
should wear something under those if you ever desire to sire
children," Erestor quipped.

Maglor snorted, pulling on a pair of boxer shorts. "I do not believe I
need to worry about siring children, Erestor. No matter what it said
in that story between you and I that you found..." he said, crossing
his arms and winking at his lover.

Erestor shook his head. "I told Justyn to show David back here. We
need to talk with him. Find out just what he thinks he remembers."

"Ever the practical one," Maglor said, slipping his arms into the silk
button down shirt. "Do I have time to actually get dressed?" He
received an answer to the question as a knock sounded. "I suppose
not," he mumbled. "Come in!" he called, turning his back to the door
and buttoning the bottom three buttons of his shirt.

David entered the room, jumping slightly when the door closed.

"Welcome, David," Erestor said softly, crossing his legs and reclining
in his chair.

"Yes, David, please," Maglor purred, gesturing toward the couch.

David sat slowly, not leaning back. "I'm surprised you brought me back
here."

"Why shouldn't we?" Maglor asked. "We had an enjoyable evening
together, did we not?"

"You... bit me. Both of you."

"Ah, yes. Well, we do tend to get a little carried away. I hope we
didn't hurt you." Maglor's voice was low and sensual, carrying as much
influence as he could mange.

David blinked, forcing himself to look at Erestor instead of meeting
Maglor's eyes. "And drinking my blood? Was that 'getting carried
away', too?"

Erestor narrowed his eyes and sat forward, extending his senses into
David's mind as deep as he dared. Not only did he find evidence of the
intact memory of that night -- which he would have thought impossible,
but he also had the bizarre feeling that he was being watched, as
though David were aware of his presence -- another impossibility.

"Blood?" Maglor inquired with surprise in his voice. "You're joking
with us now, surely! Do you hear this, Vincent? Blood! Really, David,
do you know how you -- " He broke off suddenly, catching the glare
from Erestor. The younger Noldo's thoughts rang in his mind, and
Maglor swallowed, looking at David with a revised appraisal.

David seemed to sense the unspoken discourse. "Cards on the table?" he
asked innocently.

Erestor ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "As you suspect,
Marcus and I are what your society would call vampires, although our
name for it predates your language."

David's eyes widened at that. "Exactly how old *are* you?"

Maglor cleared his throat. "No secrets? Very well then. My grandfather
was the first sentient being to awake on this planet. Think on that
one a little while."

He did. Then David's eyes rolled back into his head, and the Man
slumped back against the couch, clearly unconscious.

Erestor leapt across the room with a yelp and pressed his fingers
against David's throat. " Dammit, Maglor, he's out cold!"

"Pity," Maglor sniffed. "I was hoping the shock would kill him. It
would have simplified things."

Erestor rolled his eyes. "You're hopeless. Come on, help me get him to
the car."

*****

When David opened his eyes, the room was dark. He was also in a bed,
which he was certain was not where he had been. The Man sat up and
looked around. The room was not large, but not small. The bed took up
most of the space, joined only by a tall bureau and overstuffed chair.
There were several windows, open to the night breeze.

David hadn't the first clue where he was.

"Welcome back." The sultry voice was to his right and he slowly turned
to face his captor. Erestor stood in the bathroom doorway, steam
rolling out into the gloomy room. The vampire was dressed in only
loose silk pajama bottoms, drying his hair with a towel. "We wondered
how long it would take you to wake."

David's eyes followed Erestor, and his cock responded to the slender,
pale body still damp from the shower. He flushed and put his hands in
his lap, bunching the sheets up slightly, hoping to hide his arousal.
A chuckle made him look up guiltily.

Erestor had crossed the room so silently, and swiftly, that he now
towered over the seated human. "You may try to cover yourself, young
David, but the scent of your arousal, the faster heartbeat and your
elevated breathing give you away." He bent down, cupping David's
cheek. "You are quite beautiful, if not bothersome."

"Vincent." Maglor's voice was sharp and cold as he watched his lover
taunt the Man.

David was certain Erestor pouted as he backed away, seating himself in
the chair by the windows. "You have found us out. I am not sure how,"
the younger vampire said, his dark eyes focused on David, "But, you
have. Now, what is it you want from us?"

"What do I want from you?" he asked, still a little groggy.

Maglor walked to Erestor's side, placing his hand on the bare
shoulder. "Yes. I don't think you have come to the club every night
for the past week to simply enjoy the music. You are here because you
wanted us to know you knew our secret. Now, what is it you want from
us?"

The Man looked at his hands. Though he had come to the club looking
for them, to confront them, he had not fully thought of what he wanted
from them. So, he said the first thing that came to mind. "Nothing
more than to know you. You have lived a very long time. You must have
seen much. I am a historian by trade, and it is my passion. I would
ask that you let me know your lives."

"That is a very large request, David," Erestor said quietly. "And all
you want are the stories we have to offer? So you can write them up in
a book and expose us? Making our lives *much* more difficult than need
be?"

David moved without thinking, crawling toward the two dark vampires
across the bed. "No! Just... tell me. That is all I want." He rested
before them, clad in only his under shorts, kneeling with his hands
clasped before him.

Erestor stood and sat on the bed, leaning in close to David. His hot
breath tickled the tiny hairs on David's neck, and Erestor ran his
finger over the tiny scars his bite had left. "And what of what we
want?" he asked in a low voice. "I admit , you were sweeter than most
we have had, David."

"You would ask me to give that in exchange for your stories? Is my
silence not enough?" David heard the tremor in his own voice and
closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down.

Maglor watched the two, his own hunger rising as he gazed at Erestor.
"You were not so reluctant the last time you lay with us."

Erestor's tongue snaked out to lap at David's neck, and was pleased
when the Man trembled. "You are still weak, young one. Remain abed.
Sleep. In the morning, we shall discuss the details of our
arrangement."

David looked from Erestor to Maglor. "How do I know you will be here
when I wake? More importantly, how do I know I *will* wake?"

"You don't," Maglor said, glaring at the Man.

Erestor nipped lightly at David's throat. "Ignore him. You shall wake,
dear David. And we shall be here."

The Man allowed Erestor to move him back to the head of the bed,
drawing the covers up over his chilled body. Erestor seemed to
hesitate a moment, making some decision, and then bent down, kissing
David softly on his lips.

"Come, Vincent," Maglor demanded, taking Erestor's wrist. "Let your
pet rest."

David's eyes followed the figures out of the room, his heart hammering
as the door closed. He turned over, cuddling down in the sheets, his
lips still burning from Vincent's kiss. As he fell into a fitful
sleep, he knew his mind was made up.

To learn their stories, he would do anything.

Anything.

TBC...

Chapter Seven

Erestor closed the door, walking softly across the plush carpet to the
sofa where his lover sat.

"You will wake him if you keep looking in on him, Erestor," Maglor
warned.  The horizon was pale as dawn greeted them, and they had still
not come to an agreement.

The younger vampire folded himself elegantly on the couch.  He picked
up his glass of wine and sipped it thoughtfully.  "We cannot simply
kill him, Maglor."

Maglor snorted.  "Because you are taken with him."

"Of course not.  And it wouldn't matter if I were.  My feelings have
nothing to do with this."  Erestor paced nervously, resisting the urge
to look in on David again.

"Then what does?"

"Maglor, we have not taken a human life for decades!"

"And I say that we are overdue!" the elder Noldo hissed.  "Erestor, he
knows!  He cannot leave this place alive.  It will compromise us."
His voice softened, and he smiled indulgently at his lover.  "If you
will not allow him to die, then we will simply have to relocate.  And
I know how eager you are to move and reestablish ourselves."

"No, I do not want to move, but I also don't want him dead!  That is
not how we do things, Maglor," Erestor insisted.

"Don't we, dearest?  Come now, do not tell me you have forgotten our
dear Antonia Doria!"

"As though I could," the younger vampire spat.  "She continues to
haunt my dreams to this day."

"But, that is precisely my point.  What is one more added the massive
body count our years have accumulated?"  Maglor leaned close to
Erestor and smiled.  "You are so fond of him; you can do it.  I know
you can also make it very pleasant for him to find his end."

Erestor shook his head again.  "No.  There is something very familiar
about him, about his mind and his spirit."

"All the more reason," Maglor insisted.  "We know that he can resist
us; we know that he remembers when he should not.  And now you say
there is something more, something hidden?  Be done with him,
melethron!"

"I would rather not destroy him before we know all about him and what
*he* is hiding."

Maglor reclined against the couch, finishing his brandy.  "Very well.
Then you know what has to be done.  And since you are more proficient
in this particular art, *you* can find that truth from him."  Maglor's
pewter eyes skewered Erestor.  "But, if he is truly a threat, one of
us will kill him.  I don't care if you force me to sleep on the couch
for a century, he will not add to our unhappiness.  We have both taken
more than our share of it already."

*****

Erestor climbed onto the bed, moving like the predator he was,
carefully easing himself astride David's body.  Maglor stood to the
side, holding David's hands by the wrists, pinning the Man to the soft
mattress.

"David," Erestor crooned, bringing his lips close to David's ear.
"Time for you to wake."

The young Man's eyes shot open and he yelped, instinctively struggling
against the weight across his hips and the vise-like grip on his
wrists.  The panic was visible in the hazel eyes as they darted from
the pewter gaze to ink-black one.  "What?" he asked sleepily.

"If we are to do this," Erestor said, firmly placing his hands on
either side of David's face, "then we shall do it on even playing
ground.  You know too much about us," he continued, leaning close to
David.  "It is only fair that we should know more of you."  Erestor
focused his gaze on David's eyes and "pushed" with all his power into
the Man's mind.  This sort of blatant intrusion was as distasteful to
him as it was uncomfortable, but David had already proven resistant to
their casual powers, and no lesser strategy would give them answers
they could trust.

To David, the vampire's face seemed to swell until it filled his field
of vision.  The only sound he could hear was Vincent's steady
breathing, and a droning hum that he realized was his own voice.

Erestor strained to break through David's considerable mental
defenses.  His muscles tensed after a minute, and after two, beads of
sweat appeared on his exposed skin.  His eyes were clenched so tightly
closed that Maglor began to fear for his lover's safety.  Erestor
fought for every inch of ground into David's mind, adamant about
discovering the truth behind this unique individual.  Any other
person's mind would have laid its innermost secrets bare within three
minutes.  It took Erestor five full minutes to finally begin drawing
useful information from *this* mind.

He heard fragments of an argument between David and other men over his
night with 'Vincent' and 'Marcus'.  He saw images of news clippings
and photographs carefully preserved as a record of his own travels.
He felt past intrusions into David's mind -- training sessions to hone
David's abilities to counter the vampires' powers.  More fragments and
shards of memory began to form a more complete picture of a Man who
had been trained from boyhood to observe and record Erestor's and
Maglor's actions and movements.  David did not know their true names,
thank Eru, and it seemed none of the others in this hazy group did
either.

Erestor was beginning to withdraw from David's mind when a ghost of a
face flickered across his senses.  The shock of it jostled Erestor's
concentration, and he recoiled from the mental connection all at once.
The force threw him across the room with a shout.  That face...
impossible!  How the *fuck* could these bumbling mortals have possibly
made that connection?

Erestor staggered to his feet, clutching his head.  The backlash from
the sudden withdrawal assaulted him from all sides.  He felt nauseous;
waves of hot and cold took turns washing over him.  His throat felt
dry, his tongue swollen.  He croaked out in a raspy voice, "Kill him."

"What?" Maglor asked, shocked.

"Kill him!" Erestor repeated, stronger as his body began finally to
fight away the backlash.  "He knows too much!"

Maglor hesitated, uncertain of what brought this sudden change over
Erestor.  He released his grip on David's wrists and began to walk
across the room.  He got as far as the edge of the bed when David's
feet lashed out and caught Maglor in the kidneys, sending him
staggering.  David rolled off the bed on the other side from Maglor,
landing lightly on the balls of his feet.  His eyes were clear and
bright, his movements solid and sure.  He had recovered from his
mental ordeal with a speed and efficiency that Erestor would have
believed impossible.   It was almost inconceivable that David would
know how to destroy them, but so was everything else about this
situation.  All things considered, Erestor had to admit that David
could pose to them a genuine threat.  With that admission came the
second admission that Erestor, in this state, would not be able to
stand against him.

As the two squared off against each other, forming and reforming
opinions about the other's abilities, David suddenly fell backward,
landing heavily on the ground.  Maglor followed through with his sweep
into the back of David's knees, and rolled the rest of the way out
from under the bed.  He pounced on David's prone body like a panther,
straddling the Man's hips and pressing his shoulders to the floor with
iron hands.

"Wait!" Erestor called out as Maglor bared his fangs.  He staggered
forward, looking down into David's face.  "Who are they, David?  The
others, who are they?"

Maglor did not relax his grip, but looked up at Erestor questioningly.
"Others?"

Erestor nodded.  "I saw them.  Heard them.  They've been watching us
for at least a century.  Who are they, David?  Tell us now and I will
make sure that my lover kills you quickly."

David squirmed uselessly under Maglor's grip.  "It's true," he whined,
the panic evident in his voice.  "My family has been watching you for
over one hundred and fifty years.  I don't know how it started, I
swear.  I only know that I was brought up knowing about you, hearing
the stories, and looking at the pictures.  My father trained me to
avoid detection, to overcome your abilities."

"Why?" Maglor growled.  "Do you think you can destroy creatures such
as us?"

"No!" David yelped.  "We only observe!  We watch and record!  I don't
even think we know why anymore.  My uncle wants to be sure that you
aren't influencing history in your favor.  My father believes that it
is so you will lead us to the others."

"And you?" Erestor asked, some of the life coming back into his voice.
"What do you believe?"

David swallowed, then continued in a calmer voice.  "I don't believe
there *are* others.  I think you two are the only ones.  I believe
that yours must be a lonely life, but one filled with such wonders and
stories that someone like me could only dream of.  I believe that I am
no longer content observing.  I want to know these stories.  I want
you to tell them to me."

Maglor narrowed his eyes.  "I don't trust him."

"What he says about the others is true," Erestor maintained.  "We
cannot simply kill him.  It is likely they know where he is and will
come for us."

"Okay, so we don't kill him.  We just send him back to these others a
piece at a time."

"No, please!"  The fear returned to David's voice.  "I beg you,
listen!  I have left them!  I have cut my ties to them!  I can tell
you what I know!  I can protect you from them!"

Maglor laughed deep in his throat.  "More likely, you are protecting
them from *us*!  Make no mistake, boy.  *We* are the predators here,
not your family."

"Let me tell you what I know.  Let me help you!  All I ask is that you
share your stories with me in return."

"You presume to bargain with the wolves?" Maglor taunted.

"There is more," Erestor interrupted.  "More that you and I should
speak of in private."

Maglor heard the finality in Erestor's voice.  Until they knew
everything, harming David would be unwise.  He sighed heavily and
stood up, quickly moving out of striking distance, though he remained
alert.  He nodded to Erestor, indicating his agreement.

Erestor took David's hand and helped the Man to his feet.  "Very
well," he said, clearing the last of the uncertainty from his voice.
"We'll exchange stories for now.  But if anyone else comes near, I
will take great pleasure in twisting your head off."

TBC...

Chapter Eight

"I am the sixth generation of my family to watch you," David began
later that morning.  He paused to sip at the Irish coffee Erestor had
prepared, licking the cream from his upper lip.  The combination of
the caffeine and alcohol helped to clear his head some, as he hoped it
was doing for the two vampires.  So many questions he had to ask, but
they had insisted he answer theirs first.

"It started with my great-great-great-grandfather, Jonathan Selman.
He was a newspaper reporter in New York.  Early one evening, he was
walking through the streets, hoping to find a story.  The lamplighters
were just starting their nightly duties, and most respectable members
of society were in their homes, trapped in that limbo between the
evening meal and the night's activities.  He wrote in his journal that
it was then that the most interesting stories played themselves out.

"He turned a corner and glanced down an alleyway between two
buildings.  He saw a couple locked in what appeared to be a passionate
embrace.  He would have kept walking, he wrote later that night, but
he noted that the woman's dress marked her as high society.  That a
woman of that class would be in an alley so far away from the bastions
of... propriety and..." David thought for a moment, searching for the
proper word.  "And etiquette," he said finally  "To see her with a man
in such a situation smacked of scandal to my progenitor.  He lurked in
the shadows, hoping to catch a glimpse of the woman's face and, with
luck, the man's as well.

"The woman moaned in the embrace and seemed to swoon, slipping from
her lover's arms.  Jonathan leaned in and was horrified.  Instead of
the flushed cheeks of a secret tryst, the woman's face was deathly
pale and her eyes stared, glassily, at nothing.  He looked up at the
man then, and saw bloodstained lips and sharpened fangs.  Then a rush
of wind knocked him back into the wall as the creature sped past with
unthinkable speed."

Erestor glared at Maglor.  "That was foolish of you."

"Me?  What makes you so sure that it had to have been me?" the elder
Noldo bristled.

"Because I have never taken killing as lightly as you, and I would
never have left a body in an alleyway."

"On the contrary, Vincent," Maglor replied, careful not to use their
true names.  "I consider death to be a very serious subject and never
trivialize it.  As it happens--"

Erestor held up a hand.  "Another time and place, Marcus," he said
curtly.  "David, please continue."

David watched the ease with which the vampires discussed killing.
There was something surreal about the exchange, something so
unconsciously absurd about a lovers' quarrel over the importance of
the death of innocents.  He was so engrossed that he almost did not
hear Vincent's entreaty for him to continue his tale.  He shook his
head quickly and forced his attention back to the moment.

"My great-great-great-grandfather had grown up in a small town near
Gloucestershire, England," he continued.  "He was raised on the
Christian Bible and English folklore, so he learned how to be both
God-fearing and superstitious.  In other words, he knew a vampire when
he saw one.  He also knew that no respectable newspaper would print
such a story, and how dangerous it would be for him should he sell it
to the disreputable ones.  Instead, he recounted the story in his
personal journal only.

"In the weeks and months that followed, he used his journalism
credentials to make discreet inquiries about the man he had seen.  He
identified the man as Mitchell Devereaux, and includes a sketch that,
I'm sorry, Marcus, looks just like you."

Maglor shrugged.  "I never denied that it was me that your
thrice-great-grandfather saw.  I was merely trying to point out that
the young woman's death was not as trivial to me as my dear Vincent
would like to have you believe.  I take it that this journal contains
no information on the fate of her remains?"

David cleared his throat nervously.  "It does say that she was never
identified and no missing person reported to the police that matched
her description.  Her body was never claimed, so she was interred in a
mass grave, and the matter was forgotten."

"So it should have been.  The poor woman had lost her husband and
children in a fire some years earlier and was reduced to selling her
body in the street just to earn enough for a rat-infested room and one
meager meal a day.  Her eyes begged for release, and I granted her
wish.  I bought her that beautiful dress, treated her to an enormous
feast and a night at the theatre.  I made her last night a wonderful
experience, so that she might die with that simple happiness as her
last memory."

David listened with morbid fascination.  The gothic tragedy of the
story spoke to him of an almost erotic sensuality for life and only
intensified his curiosity for these unnatural creatures.  He was aware
of the way his lips had parted and his breathing had sped while Marcus
recounted the tale.  He knew the plain facts of the incident from his
ancestor's journal, but to hear the particulars explained in such
detail and with such fondness was an enthralling experience.

"If we could move along?" Erestor asked.

"By all means," Maglor replied sardonically.  He knew how
uncomfortable the subject of death was to Erestor, but could not help
indulging in the memories from time to time.

David finished the last of his coffee with a grimace, as the liquid
had grown cold.  "Jonathan continued to keep a careful record of
anything relating to Mitchell Devereaux or his mysterious and
reclusive friend Virgil.  He had several theories regarding where you
two might have come from.  By far, though, his favorite was that the
two of you had been soldiers in the Union army, and shared what he
called 'a carnal friendship of Sodom's ilk'.  He decided that you both
must have been killed in battle and that you were condemned to live
soulless existences as a result of your sins."

"Actually, only Vincent was in the Union army," Maglor interjected.
"I fought for the Confederacy."

"And I took great pleasure in saying 'I told you so' for the next
seventy years," Erestor replied with the first trace of a real grin.

Maglor rolled his eyes.  "Suffice it to say, dear David, that you have
since learned that we predate that little skirmish by several orders
of magnitude.  Please continue."

"The turn of the century came, and with it, the birth of my
great-great-grandfather, Jacob," the Man continued.  "The last journal
entry that my great-great-great-grandfather ever wrote was that
Mitchell and Virgil boarded a ship bound for Europe in 1902.  He hid
the journal away in his attic, probably intending to retrieve it
should you two ever return.  He died in 1908, though, and the journal
was simply forgotten.

"It wasn't until the house burned down in 1924 that it was discovered.
My great-great-grandfather, already a father himself, was picking
through the ashes and happened to find the journal lying in the ruins,
a little singed on the edge, but otherwise completely unharmed.  After
reading through it, he became convinced that God had spared the book
and led him to it because he was to continue his father's work.  He
believed God was charging him with the task of keeping watch over
these two demons and ultimately destroying them if they threatened
decent society.

"It took him years to track you down, because you were obviously using
different names by then.  He was certain that you must have come back
to America, because he believed his father's Civil War theory and felt
that you would always be drawn to return here as a result.  He spent a
lot of time visiting old battle sites and graveyards, his wife and
child in tow, thinking that you might be living nearby.  The strain of
all the moving was too much on my great-great-grandmother, and she
caught pneumonia one winter and died before the next spring.  Jacob
saw her death as a test from God to see if he would abandon the quest.
Instead, he redoubled his efforts to find you, moving more easily and
under rougher conditions now that he did not have the 'delicate
sensibilities' of a woman slowing him down.

"All the same, it must have been pure luck that you two had settled
near Richmond in the late 30's and that he happened to spot you, still
identical to the sketches his father left in the journal.  Once he
found you, though, it was easy to keep watch over you, especially with
a fifteen-year-old son to help.  My great-grandfather was raised on
that journal, always knowing of the creatures that prowled the
darkness and his family's holy quest to keep vigil over them.  He got
a job as a newsie, selling newspapers on the street corner near where
you two lived."

Erestor interrupted suddenly. "I remember that young man!  We must
have bought papers from him a thousand times!  Damn!  And I tipped him
well!"

"I told you that you should have killed him.  I never trusted him
after he called out that headline 'Blood-Sucking Monsters on the
Loose' and it turned out to be a story about the abnormally high
mosquito levels that season," Maglor added with a grimace.

"You were just sore because he suckered you with that bet about your
shoes."

David cocked his head.  "This wasn't in the journal.  What bet?"

Maglor started to speak, but Erestor cut him off.  "I wouldn't expect
it to be written down.  It's an old gag.  Your great-grandfather,
William Selman -- the other boys called him Billy the Sell-Man -- was
selling a paper to Marcus one day and said to him, 'I bet you a dollar
that I know where you got them shoes.'  Marcus shrugged and agreed.
Billy looked down and studied the shoes for a moment, then announced
proudly, 'You got the right shoe on the right foot and the left shoe
on the left foot.  Gimme a dollar, chump!'"

David burst into laughter, quickly covering his mouth with his hand
when Maglor shot him a glance that could have melted steel.  "He
cheated," the ancient Noldo said sharply.

"No, you just didn't listen," Erestor scolded.  "And it's not as
though you couldn't spare the dollar."

"A dollar was a lot of money back then!"

"And we should know because we had so many of them!"  Erestor turned
back to David and explained in an offhand manner, "We collected the
rather hefty life insurance policies on ourselves following our deaths
on the Titanic.  We never trusted the stock market or banks, so all of
our funds stayed in hard currency, untouched by the Depression."

Maglor nodded.  "Then the Japanese hit Pearl Harbor, and we converted
the bulk of it into War Bonds and returned to military service.  With
our considerable mental influence, we were able to contrive a past of
some note and secure ourselves officer postings fairly quickly."

"Yes," David added, "the journals did talk about how you two left for
the war.  My great-grandfather had just turned eighteen, and he
enlisted as well -- partly from a sense of duty, but mostly under
pressure from his father to follow the two of you.  Of course, he had
to go the long way through the enlistment process, and from his
correspondence, he never managed to catch up to the two of you again."

Maglor visibly winced.  "That's not entirely true.  We did see William
Selman once more.  Early November 1942, General Patton led the Western
Task Force in the North African invasion.  They called it Operation
Torch; the hope was for the Allied forces to gain a foothold in Africa
and form a second front from which to attack Hitler.  Most of the
assault force, including your great-grandfather, were fresh out of
training, untried in combat.  The expectation was that the French
forces in Casablanca would not fight, so the resistance would be
minimal."

"The expectations were wrong," Erestor said with a sigh.  "At least
initially.  At Port Lyautey, the French put up a hell of a fight, and
there were a lot of casualties on both sides.  Billy was shot in the
back while he crouched between two buildings.  The bullet pierced his
spine, and he was left paralyzed and bleeding to death.  By the time
we found him the next day, he was already dead."

There was a solemn pause, and then David continued.  "William married
his sweetheart before he left, a fellow newsie named Lillian Birch.
They had almost a week together until he was shipped off to boot camp,
and Lillian turned up pregnant shortly thereafter.  His son was born
in September 1942, and William insisted on naming him Abraham, after
Abraham van Helsing.  After William's death, Lillian collected the
death benefits from the Army, and promptly married William's father,
Jacob.  The two of them raised Abraham as their own, teaching him
about his family history and the 'Holy Quest' that was his birthright.

"While you were in Europe, Jacob spent the time researching vampiric
lore from any source he could find, and drew several diagrams in the
journals detailing how he thought you could be killed.  He always
suspected that the two of you had killed William when you found him
following you.  When the official cause of William's death was listed
as exsanguination, Jacob became convinced and decided, quest or no
quest, that you had to be destroyed.

"Of course, he never got the chance to try.  He died of a heart attack
in 1961, two years after the birth of Abraham's son -- my father --
Graham, and three weeks before the birth of my uncle Terry.  When the
journals passed to Abraham, he learned for the first time that Jacob
was not his father, but his grandfather.  The shock of learning about
his true father was enough to cool the burning hatred that Jacob had
instilled in him, and Abraham rededicated himself to pure observation.
He and his sons spent years researching and tracking down the smallest
reference that could be linked back to the two of you, trying to put
together a coherent picture of your travels and your lives.

"It was to that project that I eventually added my talents as I grew
up.  I majored in History, and even went to graduate school to better
understand the intricate threads of events and how the two of you were
woven into it.  You showed up in America again in the '70's, and by
then, information gathering had reached a point where it was much
easier to track you down.  Well, that and your stubborn and
inexplicable adherence to keeping the same initials through every name
change.

"When my grandfather died eight years ago, the responsibility of
keeping up with what was by now a library filled with newspaper
clippings, old photographs, every book on vampiric lore ever written,
and those original journals, passed to my father and uncle, and would
have been given to me until I stormed out and turned my backs on
them."

The three sat in silence for a long moment, as Erestor and Maglor
thought on the extensive story and the covert observation that had
existed right under their noses for so long.

"You broke the rules," Erestor stated simply.  "Why?"

David shrugged.  "I told you.  I wanted more than simple observation.
I was the one who compiled the full picture of your history, and I
knew that you were not what everyone thought you were.  I could feel
the story behind the facts, even if I didn't know all the details.  I
think it helped that I discovered my homosexuality in college.  I
think it helped me to understand you better, or at least, more than
everyone else in my family.  I hoped that if I could meet you and get
to know you, that I could learn enough to prove that you were not
monsters and that this whole silly idea of a quest had to end."

Maglor seemed to growl low in the back of his throat.  "I know a way
to end it."

Erestor put a hand on Maglor's arm.  "Down, boy.  I want to know more
about this library first, and about what you truly think you know
about us."

"No way," David said, shaking his head.  "We had a deal, remember?
It's your turn now to be the storyteller."

Maglor glared, but Erestor smiled, surprised yet again by this Man's
tenacity.  "Very well, David.  What would you like to know?"

David reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of
yellowed parchment.  He unfolded it and showed the old Wanted poster
to the two vampires.  "I want to know about Victor Logan and his
'unspeakable crimes.'"

Maglor burst out laughing.  "It's your poster, so it's your story,"
the elder Noldo chided.

Erestor's face fell.

TBC...

Chapter Nine

Van Buren County, Missouri, 1843

This was Maglor's fault, Erestor thought, his mood continuing to
darken the more his thought of the predicament he found himself in.

Erestor stared out of the dingy window into the street below.  He was
beginning to truly hate America.  The Noldo longed for the cool
summers of Europe and the gentle refinery of the upper classes.
Maglor had wanted to see America, so they had come.  Now all Erestor
wanted was to board a steam ship east again.  But, no, he had to hide.

And hide he did.

He had been running from the sheriff for a month now.  The other day,
while in the general store, he had seen that the damned Sheriff had
issued a 'Wanted' poster for him!  'Dead or Alive' and a bounty of
$100 on his head made him someone the locals wanted to find.  Erestor,
though, did not want to be found.  He sighed and scanned the crowd in
the busy evening streets and, for the thousandth time, prayed to the
Valar to let him make the six o'clock train out of Missouri.

Erestor stood and looked about the small room one last time.  He did
not have luggage; he carried only cash for his trip.  The vampire
would be happy to leave the trials of the western life behind.  He
left his room and started down the stairs, his heart racing.  He
stopped just before he reached the bottom, his dark eyes widening as
he gazed over the figures milling about the lobby of the hotel.

One of the men, an elder gentleman Erestor recognized as the lackey of
the Mayor of Kansas City, turned his head to the stairs.  Their eyes
met; the man's lips curved into a cruel smile.  Erestor turned and
sped back up the stairs, the shouts of the men and their footfalls on
the floor ringing in his ears.  He had to get out.  His eyes, wild as
a corner animal's, sought an exit.  The only thing on the second floor
for an escape was a window.  And no ladder.

Erestor took a deep breath and lifted the window open, sticking his
head out to scan the ground below his perch.  The sun was setting and
the folks who usually walked below the establishment were having their
evening meals.  The street was clear -- no one would see him -- and so
Erestor climbed out the window and jumped.  He landed soundlessly, his
muscles easily absorbing the shock of his fall.

"Logan!"

The shout was rough and angry; Erestor lifted his head and saluted the
man.  He turned and ran off, not thinking of where he was running to,
just that he needed to be as far away from those men as was possible.
As he ran, Erestor pulled out his pocket watch.  "Dammit!" he growled,
glaring at the clock face.  It was almost six -- he would miss his
train.

"Logan!  Stop!"

Erestor bit back his annoyance.  Would these humans ever stop?  He
continued to run, determined to elude his hunters.  There was a sharp
sound behind him, something that made his ears ring, and then he was
on the ground.  His knee throbbed from the bullet that had pierced him
from behind.  Damn this race and their weapons!  He glared up at the
man who still held the instrument of his capture.

"Ya ain't gettin' away 'rom us this time, Logan," the Mayor's lackey
said.

The vampire laughed.  "I'll disappear before we ever return to Kansas
City, Zack."  He could already feel his body repairing the torn
muscle, cartilage and ligaments.

Zack smiled evilly.  "I don' think we'll hav' ta worry 'bout that,
Logan.  You're never gonna make it back ta Kansas City.  Mayor's happy
to have ya hang here."

Well, what had he expected?  His 'crimes' were punishable without even
a trial, though he was entitled to one.  Erestor did not put up much
of a struggle when the other men arrived, tying his arms behind him
and forcing him to march to the Sheriff's station.  He needed to feed
for his knee to heal enough for him to run again, but with so many
people around, it was an impossible task.

He was trapped.

*****

Erestor rested against the cold cell wall, watching as the stars began
to light the night sky.  Once again, he reminded himself that his
current predicament was all Maglor's fault.  That Elf would be the
undoing of him, he just knew it.  Erestor could hear the low din of a
crowd, which came closer and closer.  So, it was time.  The Mayor, who
was safe in his warm bed in Kansas City, would have his revenge.  The
Noldo sighed and stood, wincing in pain when he put pressure on his
left knee.

Zack appeared at his cell door.  "Ya ready, Logan?  The crowd's
waitin' on ya...  See, they don' like yer kind here."

"I doubt they like much of any kind here, Zack," Erestor snapped,
crossing his arms.  "Do I not get a trial?"

"No, don' think so.  Mayor was very specific in 'is demand.  Victor
Logan was not to leave this city alive.  And ya won' be.  It's been
weeks since this town has had a hangin'!"  Zack's eyes were wild with
anticipation, and all Erestor wanted to do was reach through the bars
of his tiny cell and strangle the man.

Instead, he smiled.  "Then hadn't we best give the crowd what they
want?"  If he was to be lynched then so be it, but he was not going to
give this pathetic excuse for life the pleasure of seeing him panic.
Erestor turned around, offering his clasped hands to his warden.  Zack
quickly and securely tied Erestor's hands and then opened the cell
door.

Zack tugged at the sleeve of Erestor's shirt.  "C'mon.  Don' wanna
keep yer public waitin'."

Erestor was led from the small building and into the streets.
Everyone in the town had assembled, holding torches and jeering at him
as he was walked to a tall, thick-trunked tree.  Erestor's heart beat
wildly in his chest, and he limped painfully alongside his captor.
Zack's hand tightened on his upper arm, reminding Erestor that escape
was not an option.

Another man, taller and more muscular than Zack, tossed a long length
of rope over one of the thicker limbs of the tree.  Dangling on the
end that now hung loose was a noose.  He closed his eyes as he was
turned to face the crowd of onlookers.  Erestor opened his eyes again
when the noose was tightened around his neck; Zack laughed near his
ear.

"We should jus' string you up, let ya die slowly.  But, we have women
folk in the crowd, and they won' like that much."  Zack motioned for a
cart, drawn by a horse, to be brought to the tree.  "Up ya go, Logan."

Erestor climbed onto the back of the cart awkwardly, his injured knee
throbbing and his bound hands hindering him.  He stood tall, his eyes
forward and his lips set in a grim line.  Hanging was not something he
had endured before, and there was a small knot of fear in his stomach.

"Let 'im drop!"

The cart was wrenched out from his feet.  Had Erestor been mortal, the
sudden jerk of the rope would have broken his neck.  Even with his
enhanced stamina, the pain of the rope was not inconsiderable.
Erestor did not need to breathe; that is, the lack of oxygen would not
kill him, but it would still be damned uncomfortable and do damage to
his body that only feeding would remedy.  The rope was tight around
his neck, cutting into his flesh and working to collapse his throat.

He struggled enough to satisfy the gathered crowd, made strangled
noises, and counted to one hundred before he sagged heavily from the
rope.  Erestor remained still, listening to Zack recount the 'crimes'
he had committed followed by the crowd's hissing and derision while
someone else tied the rope off to a stake in the ground.  In his mind,
though, he was ticking through all the reasons he still had not killed
Maglor.

*****

By the chill and silence, Erestor supposed it was well after midnight.
His neck hurt from the weight placed on it, and he had one hell of a
splitting headache.  The soft sounds of a horse, laden with rider,
came close to where he hung.

"You know, Zack is a bitter man," the musical voice called up to him.
"And he hates you."

Erestor pulled at the rope behind his back, easily pulling his hands
from his bonds.  He slipped his fingers under the tight noose and
looked down into the glittering eyes of Maglor.  "Really?" he rasped
out sarcastically.  "I couldn't tell."

"Now, now, is that any way to behave?" Maglor chided.  "It isn't my
fault that Zack convinced the Mayor that it was you he'd seen leaving
the saloon that night."

Erestor pulled himself up as much as he could so that he could bellow,
"Of course it's your fault!  You're the one that was leaving!"

"Twaddle!  I'm sure Zack would have tried to pin it on you even if it
hadn't been me."

"And the fact that from the back, in the dark, we look almost
identical had nothing to do with it, I'm sure."

"After the way you cleaned him out in the poker tournament, he'd been
looking for something to blame on you."

"How nice of you to provide him something, then.  Now, are you going
to get me down or not?"  Erestor's fingers were beginning to ache from
the strain of holding his body up.

Maglor sighed.  "Oh, very well."  He drew a revolver from his holster,
took a casual aim, and fired.  The bullet split the rope just above
the tie-off at the stake, and Erestor fell heavily to the ground in a
heap.

The younger Noldo struggled to his feet.  His knee was still twisted
at an odd angle from the gunshot wound, and his muscles were weak from
the lack of oxygen and the strain of hanging for so long.  "Thanks,"
he muttered.

Maglor reached down with one hand and lifted Erestor onto the horse
behind him.  He turned the mare and started slowly back on the road
out of town.  For a long time, the only sounds were the dusty
footfalls of the horse and the whistle of the wind.  Finally, Maglor
said softly, "Well, I suppose I owe you a dollar, then."

Erestor chuckled roughly.  "I told you he was the Mayor's son."

"Yes, but who would have thought that such an uptight man would have
had such a beautiful son!"

"Even so, Maglor, you could have shown a little more discretion!"
Erestor wrapped his arms tighter around his lover's waist and leaned
in close.  "I mean, honestly, renting a room for your little tryst in
the saloon and not expecting anyone to notice!  Especially with the
way you carried on!"

"If you'd had that mouth on *you*, you'd not have been able to control
yourself either!" Maglor laughed.

Erestor shook his head, unable to control his own laughter.  "Oh, very
well.  Keep your dollar.  Just tell me all about it!"

TBC...

Chapter Ten

Seattle, Washington, 2004

"So, your 'unspeakable crimes' were actually Marcus' unspeakable
crimes?" David asked, taking the glass of wine Erestor offered.

"Yes," Erestor said, smiling at Maglor.  "He slept with the Mayor's
son and left me to hang for it."

Maglor put his glass down.  "Now, Vincent.  You could have easily run
from them."

Erestor's eyes narrowed.  "I did, Marcus, and they shot my kneecap!"

The elder vampire scoffed.  "A mere inconvenience."

David chuckled.  "You sound like a married couple."

"Well," Erestor said, smiling sideways at Maglor, "we have been
together a very long time."

Maglor looked out the window, noting the sun had set, and he felt the
tug to hunt.  "Vincent, we should go to the club."  His silver eyes
met Erestor's meaningfully, and Erestor nodded.

The temperature in the room seemed to David to drop noticeably.
Perhaps it was his proximity to them after having been their victim,
or perhaps it was the same force that gave him the strength to resist
their powers, but whatever it was, he seemed to sense the vampires'
hunger.  He silenced his initial urge to run -- the instinct of the
prey faced with a predator.  Instead, he took a deep breath and said
slowly, "If you need to feed, use me."

"No, David."  Maglor's voice was soft, a smile on his full lips.
"Though we appreciate the offer, it is not a very good idea."

"Why?" the human asked, a note of offense in his tone.

"If it was a normal night, I am certain we could easily have you as
our meal," Maglor chuckled.  "But, it is not a normal night.  We have
expended a lot of energy in the past forty-eight hours, and need to
each feed from our own mortal.  If we were to take you, we would
surely kill you, David."  The elder vampire cast a look of
mock-concern.  "And I am certain Vincent would not like to see you
meet your end in such a manner."

Erestor smiled sweetly at David.  "Would you like to come with us?"
He turned to Maglor.  "We can go to Carnality instead of Melindor;
those men may be watching the club."

David watched Maglor consider the suggestion, and then slowly nod.
"All right.  Carnality it is."

"Carnality?" David asked, his stomach knotting in apprehension.

"Aye," Maglor said, smirking darkly.  "It is a very... open club.
Lots of lovely, hot gay men just waiting to be devoured."

Erestor fwapped Maglor upside the head.  "Would you *please* behave
yourself?"

Maglor raised an eyebrow.  "You aren't likely to be hanged in this day
and Age, love."

"True," Erestor said, standing up and beginning to walk to their
bedroom.  "Now all I have to worry about it being clubbed over the
head or having some psycho plow his car into mine."

Maglor rolled his eyes.  "I knew getting you those Queer as Folk DVDs
was a bad idea."

*****

David's eyes were wide as he followed Marcus and Vincent into the
club.  'Carnality' was an appropriate name for such a place.  The
whole gay male population of Seattle had to be assembled in the large
club, dancing and gyrating to the deep, pounding music pouring out
into the smoky atmosphere.  He gazed over the pulsing throng of
man-flesh, feeling a blush creep over his fair features as he took in
the sight before him.

Tall, short, slender, plump, old, young... all moving as one to the
beat of the music.  Some dressed in jeans and tight t-shirts, others
in short shorts with midriff shirts, and yet others still wearing
nothing more than underwear-like shorts.  There were cages set about
the room, populated by half-nude dancers thrusting and grinding their
bodies.  Laser lights, smoke and strobes set the fast-pace movements
of the occupants.

Groping, touching, caressing, kissing, sucking... various pairs,
sometimes threesomes, finding ways to couple on the dance floor.
Fingers roaming over bare chests, over taut bellies and lower,
stroking over bulging groins.  David felt his heart race, his cock
stiffen and did that guy in the chaps with his bare ass hanging out
just pinch his backside as he passed by David's very still form?

"So, David," Vincent said, grinning down at him.  "Welcome to
Carnality!"  David watched Marcus step behind Vincent and run his
hands over Vincent's bared stomach.  He had been surprised when
Vincent had emerged from the bedroom, declaring the bathroom free for
use.  The vampire was wearing his hair down this evening, long and
sleek and reaching to his waist; David had wanted to run his hands
through the raven tresses.

What had made David's blood race through him was that the stoic,
somber Vincent wore only low leather pants that clung to his skin.
The waist of the pants rode dangerously low, and David still expected
to see the crevice of Vincent's backside to peek out any moment.
Vincent's flesh also shimmered; the vampire had dusted himself with
silver powder and lined his pewter eyes with kohl.  He was an exotic
sight consumed by all eyes in the club.

But, Vincent was Marcus'.  And all one had to do to know this was to
see the way Marcus possessively held onto the slim hips of his partner
as they swayed to the music.

Marcus, on the other hand, was the image of sensual sophistication.
The taller vampire wore his hair down as well, though two strands from
the front were drawn back and plaited into a single, thin braid that
rested on the nest of his dark hair.  Marcus' hair was not as long as
Vincent's, but the effect was still as stunning.  He wore a simple
pair of tight black jeans, low like Vincent's, and a long-sleeve,
white Armani button-down shirt.  Though the shirt was only buttoned in
one place -- just above the vampire's navel.

David, having still not returned to his apartment, had been forced to
borrow some of Vincent's clothing.  More accurately, Vincent had
dressed him up for Carnality.  David was uncomfortable in the
skin-tight blue jeans and tight black t-shirt; he felt exposed even
though he was completely clothed.

"Don't look so down," Marcus shouted before nuzzling at Vincent's
neck.  The two were an erotic vision, and arousal coursed through his
body.  He wanted them, wanted to be theirs.  "Wait here!" Marcus
commanded, pushing David toward the bar.  "We'll be back for you in a
few moments!"

They walked away, the crowd seeming to part for them, and then they
were swallowed up, gone from David's sight.  He sighed and ordered a
beer as he sat and watched the mass of people on the floor.

*****

David tossed back his second shot of Jagermeister, hissing as the
bitter alcohol burned his throat.  He put the shot glass down and
picked up his beer again as he turned back around to the dance floor.
Vincent and Marcus had been gone for the better part of an hour, and
David had become restless, choosing to quickly become drunk.  He was
not a heavy drinker, and the liquor was swiftly going to his head.

Slender arms snaked about his waist from behind and he was drawn back
against the slighter build of Vincent.

"Forgive us, David," he purred against the shell of David's ear.  "It
took us a bit longer than anticipated to find what we were seeking."
Vincent's tongue came out, hot and slick, sliding up the outer edge of
David's ear, and he trembled in Vincent's arms.  David let his head
fall against Vincent's shoulder, and the vampire eagerly took
possession of David's mouth.  When David was hard and whimpering,
Vincent pulled back and licked his lips.  "You have been drinking."

"Yes," David breathed.

"Are you able to dance?" Marcus asked from beside David.  "We want you
to dance with us."

David's eyes were glazed with lust and alcohol, but he nodded, taking
in a shaky breath.  "Yes."

"Good boy," Vincent murmured, pressing his leather covered arousal
along David's jean-clad crevice.  The music began as he was dragged
onto the dance floor.  A single female voice with a light beat behind
her words enticed them further to join the writhing mass of humanity,
teasing them with a lilting melody before the song truly began.

When the introduction ended and the hard, thundering bass line began,
it was impossible not to be swept up by the raw sensuality that
pounded from the speakers all around them.  Marcus stood behind David,
hands on the Man's hips, while Vincent pressed his body close to
David's front.  Together, the three began to grind their hips to the
pulsing rhythm as though they were one being.  Vincent wrapped his
arms around David's waist, rubbing himself against David's slighter
form and caressing the exposed flesh of David's back as they danced.
His eyes moved from the hazel gaze of the Man to the smoldering grey
gaze of his lover.  Vincent's hands were hot on his skin, and Marcus'
mouth on his throat brought moans of desire from his lips.  He was
tightly wedged between them, their hands roaming his body and laying
claim to him.

He was theirs, if only for tonight.

Vincent stepped back a bit, his body still swaying to the driving
beat, and Marcus' hands slithered beneath David's t-shirt.  Before he
could protest, David felt Marcus pull the thin black fabric from his
torso, revealing his slightly golden chest to anyone who cared to
look.  He opened his mouth to demand the shirt back, but Vincent was
again touching him, teasing his newly bared skin with agile, knowing
fingers.  David also felt Marcus' bare chest against his back, and the
silken skin gliding over his sweat-dampened flesh.

It was a fog of lust, a haze that David clung to as they slid against
each other.  Marcus' lips returned to his neck, suckling, biting,
marking him, and Vincent's hand slipped lower, following the golden
trail of hair from David's navel to the button of his jeans.  David's
heavy-lidded eyes were captured by Vincent's dark, bottomless ones as
that hand deftly unbuttoned his jeans, pulled the zipper down, and
delved between their grinding bodies to stroke his eager flesh.  He
gasped, but the sound was cut off when Vincent brought their lips
together roughly, thrusting his tongue into David's mouth.

Marcus' arousal was pressed against his backside, teasing him with
promises of what pleasures the thick shaft could bring him.  Vincent
caressed him to the beat of the music, the three of them still moving
as one.  His lips burned with the force of Vincent's kisses, his neck
ached with various bruises Marcus's lips were leaving in their wake.
He felt his orgasm building swiftly, and he became weak in his knees.
Marcus held his weight effortlessly, his fingers pinching and pulling
at David's nipples as the two vampires brought him quickly to a peak.

David cried out into Vincent's mouth, his body trembling in Marcus'
arms as he spilled his seed into his boxer shorts, over Vincent's
questing hand.  He was oblivious to any and all around him; Vincent
finally released his mouth, and David panted heavily, his head lolling
against Marcus' shoulder as they continued to move before and behind
him to the song.

Vincent released his softening cock, brought his hand carefully from
David's jeans and licked delicately at his glistening fingers.  His
eyes were smoldering coals of desire and he smiled wickedly, offering
the fingers to Marcus' smirking lips over David's shoulder.  The
taller vampire sucked the slender digits into his mouth, grazing his
teeth along the skin.

"Let's get out of here," Marcus called out over the music.

David nodded, his legs still shaky from the combination of alcohol and
orgasm.  "Take me drunk, I'm home," he quipped with a slight slur in
his voice.

Vincent leaned in and kissed David deeply, rubbing more of the silver
powder off on his chest and face.  "Oh, we intend to," he said
wolfishly.

*****

Maglor easily opened the door, leading a wobbly David and a grinning
Erestor into the dark interior of the apartment.  A trail of clothing
was left behind as they kissed and fondled their way into the bedroom.
Erestor pushed a nude David back onto the bed, causing him to land in
a wide sprawl across the dark sheets.  Before Erestor could pounce,
Maglor wound his hand into the long dark tresses, forcing Erestor's
head back.  David watched as Maglor slowly brought him mouth into
contact with Erestor's, their tongues meeting in a deep display of
affection and desire.

"You are both so beautiful," David breathed, staring up at the pale
figures in a passionate embrace.

Maglor released Erestor, smiling down at the Man as he slid his own
jeans off.  Erestor, having already wriggled out of his leather,
crawled on the bed between David's legs.  "I want to feel you in my
mouth, David," he said in a thick voice.

David's eyes followed Erestor, the dark head dipping down and the red
tongue darting out to lick his length.  Erestor lapped at the damp
tip, suckled down the large vein, and danced his tongue along David's
sac before he engulfed the entire shaft in one smooth movement.  David
cried out, arching his back off the bed and thrusting deep into the
tight throat.

As the Man writhed beneath Erestor's mouth, Maglor slid behind David,
lifting his torso up to rest against him.  "He is something, is he
not?" he whispered into David's ear, his hot breath ghosting over the
Man's sensitive lobe.  "In all my long years, dear David, I have never
known another who can worship the shaft as Vincent does."  Maglor's
eyes were steady on Erestor's moving head, his own cock hard and needy
as he pressed against David's body.  He kissed down David's neck,
nipping at a bruise over the pounding vein beneath the skin.  "We came
to a compromise, eager one.  We fed from only one tonight, slaking our
hunger enough as to not harm our second, more inviting course."
Maglor licked up to David's ear again.  "You."

David screamed his delight as Maglor's fangs sank into his neck, a
connection made between them in that moment of intimacy.  The constant
suction on him, and the draw of Maglor's own lustful thoughts, dragged
him into a new frenzy of orgasmic bliss.

The slighter vampire lifted his head, licking his lips as he smirked.
"I think I could become used to you," he whispered as he moved slowly
up David's body, kissed the parted lips briefly.  "You are so willing,
so energetic," he continued as he cupped Maglor's cheek, pulling his
lover from the pale throat.  "He reminds me of... well, of me."
Erestor chuckled, bending to Maglor's blood-smeared lips and running
his tongue along them.

"Yes, you were always an enthusiastic student," Maglor replied,
kissing Erestor, blood and semen mixing between their dancing tongues.

David lay heavily in Maglor's arms.  "I don't think I have it in me to
continue this," he said tiredly.  "If it were just one on the dance
floor or one in this bed, I could conceive of going once more... but I
think you have sucked me dry."

"Oh no," Maglor said, tilting David's head back so he could look into
the human's eyes.  "We still need relief, and it is in your body we
desire to find it."  Maglor sealed his mouth over David's, kissing him
as Erestor bit into the tender flesh Maglor had just abandoned,
drinking his fill of the Man's blood.

When Erestor released David's mind from the connection the feeding
offered, David was once again hard and begging them for anything to
ease the ache.  "Onto your hands and knees, love," Erestor crooned to
the panting Man.  "Do you want to feel me or Marcus inside you?" he
asked as David rearranged himself and Maglor retrieved the lubricant.

"You," David said in an unsteady voice.  "You."

"I figured," Maglor chuckled.  "It just means I am lucky enough to
feel your mouth around me."  He placed the tube of slick gel in
Erestor's outstretched hand, smiling at his lover.  Maglor settled
himself before David, on his knees, his thick length bobbing slightly.
"Open," he commanded softly.

David obeyed, and Maglor eased himself into the warmth of David's
mouth.  He groaned loudly, his eyes fluttering closed as he continued
to press forward.  David whimpered around the thick flesh, trying his
best to accommodate the large member.  He trembled as Erestor smeared
the gel on his opening, thrusting a single finger into him for a
moment, and then withdrawing it.  A strangled cry escaped him when
Erestor swiftly pushed his cock into his passage, filling and claiming
him.

The Man was light-headed with arousal and blood-loss, but he moved
upon Maglor's length with relish and met each of Erestor's brutal
thrusts into his body.

"You are special, David," Erestor ground out, his eyes seeking out
Maglor's.  The Man was tight and welcoming, velvet and heat, and
Erestor knew he did not want to let this one go.  "You were made for
this."  He reached under David, gripping the hard shaft and stroking
it quickly.  The blood still rushing through them, all the foreplay,
the moans the Man made and sight of him pierced by both of them was
enough to send Erestor crashing into orgasm.

Maglor watched his lover find release in David; the younger vampire's
head was flung back, the glossy ink tresses teasing the bedsheets, and
his body a perfect arc as he thrust deeply inside the Man.  His own
cock throbbed, and soon he spilled himself in the pulsing throat of
their new lover.  David was still whimpering, Erestor's hand moving
over the Man's erection at a steady pace, driving David closer to his
third orgasm that night.

A pain-tinged howl of release escaped David's bruised and swollen lips
as he coated Erestor's hand with his seed.  The Man's arms went weak
and he collapsed, his backside still up in the air, but his flushed,
sweat-covered face was buried in the mattress.

Erestor carefully extracted himself from David, grabbing a towel from
the floor from his earlier shower.  He wiped his hands and tenderly
cleaned David's opening of lubricant and semen.  The Man had not moved
from his crumpled state, and Erestor's brow furrowed in concern.
"David?" he called quietly, raising panicked eyes to Maglor's face.
"Are you all right, dear one?"

A quiet snore emanated from prone form on the bed.  Maglor chuckled.
"He is asleep, melethen."  The elder vampire picked the sleeping Man
up, and Erestor pulled down the bedsheets.  Once David was settled
comfortably in the bed, Maglor took Erestor into his arms.  "Don't
fall in love, Erestor," he warned.  "He is mortal and will die."

The slighter Noldo gazed longingly at David.  "I want to keep him with
us."

"Erestor."

Dark eyes, swirling with pain, looked up at him.  "Please."

Maglor sighed.  "Very well.  Keep your pet.  Can we sleep now?"

Erestor smiled, his eyes bright with gratitude.  "Aye."  He brought
their lips together for a long moment, their minds opening to one
another in a gesture of love and contentment.  For that brief moment,
Maglor knew what it was to care for the Man as Erestor did, and
Erestor knew what it was to care for himself as Maglor did.

In that rare moment of symbiosis, they were as one being.  It was
clear to both that no matter what this David would mean to either of
them, it would always be a pale shadow of their feelings for each
other, and for their lost loves across the Sea.  They were content
with that, finally, even Maglor, and he lay against Erestor's back
while the younger Noldo drifted off to sleep with a protective arm
cast across his new infatuation.

TBC...

Chapter Eleven

Erestor listened to the soft, even breathing of his two lovers,
watching the room lighten as dawn broke over the city.  He had lain
awake for hours, wondering about this Man and what he had glimpsed
when looking into his mind.  The vampire slipped from the warm embrace
of Maglor, carefully lifting his hand from David's hip so as not to
wake the Man.

He had not yet spoken to Maglor about the final image he had seen in
David's mind.  There had been moments that he himself had forgotten
about it.  But here, in the stillness of morning, it all flooded back
to him.  These watchers were more dangerous than he could have
imagined.  He knew that he had to find them, and despite his hatred of
the thought, Erestor was almost convinced he would have to kill them.

He picked up David's jeans from the floor and pulled out the wallet
that the Man had foolishly carried with him.  He slipped the driver's
license out and memorized the address.  He was hoping to find some way
to locate the others, and David's home would be the place to start.
Flipping casually through the credit cards and pictures, though,
Erestor suddenly froze.  There, captured on film, was a face that he
never thought to see again.  The same face he'd seen in David's mind
now looked up from a small photo marked "Me and Dad, '92".  It was a
face he'd seen a thousand times, a face he'd seen grow into maturity.

And then Erestor knew.

*****

The clamor in the kitchen finally woke Maglor.  He lay in the bed
listening to the sounds of pots clanging and water boiling.  He was
dreading the awful concoction that Erestor was no doubt about to
surprise him with, and then he heard a strange man's voice.  No, a
strange Man's voice.

"Shit!"

The curse was followed by the sound of a pan clattering to the floor
and water, presumably boiling, splashing across the hot stovetop.
Maglor's initial shock at hearing the unfamiliar voice decrescendoed
into an amused frustration.  Ah, yes, the mortal was still here.

David chose that moment to appear in the doorway.  'Speak of the
devil,' Maglor mused.  'Or rather, spoken of *by* a devil.'

"I don't suppose the two immortals would have something as banal as a
first-aid kit around here?"  David's left hand was wrapped in a towel,
and he was cradling it gingerly against his chest.

Maglor tried to stifle the wicked grin that threatened to burst across
his face.  The best he could do was to keep it to a sarcastic smirk.
"There is an aloe plant in the library.  Just break off the tip of one
of the fatter leaves and squeeze it out onto your burn.  And use the
potholders next time."

"Most people buy pots with insulated handles."

"Vincent bought them.  He said that this way he could put them in the
oven as well.  Why one would ever need to put a stock pot into an oven
is beyond me, but he seemed to think it was terribly important."

David chuckled.  "Where is he, anyway?  He was already gone when I
woke up."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Maglor said with a shrug.  He pulled
himself from the bed, unflinchingly immodest in his nakedness.  He
disappeared into the large walk-in closet, calling back over his
shoulder, "He said nothing to me about going anywhere."

David caught himself staring at Marcus' body, and felt the heat rising
in his cheeks when the vampire noticed and winked at him.  He hurried
to the library, ostensibly to put some aloe on his blistering skin,
but also to spare himself further embarrassment in front of the
ancient creature.

*****

Erestor still had not returned by the time Maglor had finished
cleaning away the mess in the kitchen and preparing David and himself
a nice breakfast.  The meal consisted of poached eggs, English muffins
with marmalade, and a passable version of black pudding that he had
purchased from a British goods store downtown.

Of all the various cultures he had lived in throughout the long years,
Maglor had to admit that, their other faults notwithstanding, the
British made spectacular food.  The French and Italian foods were too
high-class and delicate, Spanish and German were simply too heavy and
blunt.  British, though, was a perfect balance, even though Erestor
tended to turn his nose up at it.  What did he know, anyway?

David finished the meal and sat back from the table with a satisfied
sigh.  He'd had his doubts about the pudding (which turned out to be a
sausage), but it was really surprisingly good.  He swallowed the last
of his tea and sighed, leaning back against the sofa.  "So, since
Vincent hasn't come back, perhaps you could humor me a little more
with another tale?"

Maglor cursed Erestor for simply disappearing.  This was his
responsibility, not Maglor's, and entertaining the human was the last
thing on his 'To Do' list for the day.  But, he could not very well
leave David here to his own devices, and what did he truly need to
accomplish this morning?  "Very well.  Did you have something in
mind?"

"Actually, I did.  There is an image in a Chicago newspaper, during
the Great Chicago Fire, where you are running from one of the burning
buildings with a child in your arms.  Tell me about that child and why
you saved her," David said, gazing levelly at the vampire.

Of all the events the human could have asked about, he had to ask
about that one specifically.  Maglor was certain this mortal had a
book of questions, and these were the least intrusive to David's mind.
He let out a long breath and crossed his legs.  "That girl was
Vincent's daughter.  She and her mother had been in their home.
Vincent ran in to find Fran, his wife, and asked me to seek out Violet
in the blaze.  She could not have been more than ten years old at the
time."

David's brow creased.  "Vincent had a wife?"

Maglor chuckled.  "Come now, David.  In all these centuries, do you
not think that the art of marriage and childrearing would appeal to
one such as our Vincent?  He wooed Fran for two years; they wed in the
autumn in a lovely little church.  Violet came within a year of the
wedding."  The vampire's eyes became distant, as if he were mentally
scanning photo albums in his mind.  A sad, wistful smile appeared, and
he felt the sting of tears in his eyes.  "Violet was a lovely child.
I adored her the moment Vincent placed her in my arms.  We both
spoiled her, loved her."

"Were you and Vincent--" David began, but stopped as Maglor shook his
head.

"No.  The moment he began to court her, we ceased being lovers.  It
was a very long fifteen years for me without him as mine, but I
understood his motives.  He wanted to be like all the other bankers
with wives and families."  Maglor pierced David with his sharp gaze.
"What he forgot was that he is not like all the others.  Wives and
children are for the living, the aging, and he is not among those."
Maglor deliberately returned to the grim tale of Erestor's lost wife
and daughter.  "Violet was in her bedroom, hiding in a closet..."

*****

Chicago, 1871

"Come now, Violet!" Maglor cried, raising his voice above the roar of
the fire that crept closer to the small closet.  The dark-haired
child's eyes were closed, and he swore as he gathered her into his
arms.  His eyes watered with the heat and the smoke, and he clumsily
made his way through the home and out into the fresh air of the late
night street.

Erestor had told him to save her, to run from the burning buildings,
and Maglor did just that.  He ran with the crowds, still trying to
rouse the child.  If Violet died in his arms, neither he nor Erestor
would forgive him.  No, he would not let her go!  He stopped running,
taking refuge under the awning of a building, and crouched on the
pavement.  He rested her head in his lap.  "Violet?" he called.
"Violet, you wake this instant!  Your Papa will be so worried, child.
You must wake."

Maglor sobbed as he held her to him.  Oh, Violet.

A flash went off as Maglor glanced up.  The newspaperman winked and
rushed away, leaving him alone once more with Erestor's precious
flower.  He bowed his head again, his tears slipping down his soot
covered face.

"Uncle Marcell?"

The soft, sweet voice, roughed slightly, was like a douse of cold
water on his burned flesh.  "Violet!" he said, hugging her close.
"Oh, doll, you're all right!"

"Uncle Marcell?" she repeated, disoriented and slowly taking in their
surroundings with her onyx-like eyes.  "Where are Papa and Mama?"

"Your Papa is bringing your Mama, doll."  Maglor cradled her close,
never wanting to let her go.  "He will find us soon."

Violet cuddled close, twining her fingers in his long hair, and Maglor
picked her up.  He slowly walked toward the area of the city where his
apartment home was, knowing Erestor would come for them there.  He had
to take Violet away from the shrieking panic in the crowded streets.

Erestor did not come.

Fran did not come.

But, the ladies from the orphanage did.

They took Violet from him.  It was not proper, they told Maglor, for a
single man to be looking after a child.  No, he was not her relative,
but he was a very close friend of the family.  No, he did not care
what the laws were, they could not take Violet from him!

But they did.

A week after Violet was taken away; they found Fran's remains in the
burned home.  It was assumed that, since Maglor had said Erestor had
gone in after his wife, Erestor must have perished with her.  The
state declared Vachel and Fran Belden deceased and their daughter,
Violet Belden, a ward of the state.  All communication with the
orphanage and Maglor ceased.

It was in the dead of night, after Maglor had drunk himself into a
stupor, that Erestor returned to him.

"Where is she, Maglor?" Erestor demanded, his eyes wide and wild.

"I tried all I could, Erestor!  They took her from me.  You are dead
to the mortal world, as is your wife, and I am not a blood relative!"
Maglor pushed Erestor away from him, swaying on his feet as he stood
from his chair.  "I *tried*, Erestor.  They came with police and
snatched her from my arms."  He lifted his eyes to his friend's face,
his tears reflected on Erestor's pale cheeks.  "I am sorry, melethen.
She is lost to us."

*****

Seattle, 2004

Maglor wiped away the few stray tears on his lashes.  "She remained in
the orphanage five years," he said, his voice hushed.  "A wealthy
older gentleman came seeking a wife and chose Violet.  After that, we
lost all track of her.  She just... disappeared."

"Did he ever find her?" David asked softly.

"No.  We did not know the man, and if he did marry her as we think he
did, her last name would have changed.  I wouldn't be surprised if he
also changed her first name, since 'Violet' was a very common, plain
name."  Maglor uncrossed his legs.  "Now you know the story behind the
image in that clipping.  I was holding Violet in my arms just before
she woke and the photographer caught me off-guard, which is why there
is no name associated with the image."

It was quiet in the room, the hand on the clock ticking slowly as the
seconds passed.  "Did he ever marry again?" David finally asked.

Maglor cleared his throat.  "No.  He never married, and he has never
been sexually involved with a woman since."

"How is it he could have a child?"  The man turned to face Maglor.  "I
mean, I thought you were dead and therefore would not be able to
impregnate a woman."

"You amuse me, David," Maglor said, chuckling.  "You think of Man's
fictions.  This is a curse, but not one that prevents us from siring
our own progeny outside of a bite."

"Then why do you not do either?  You are alone, lovers to each other,
but no one else."  David felt himself drawn into the stormy depths of
Maglor's intense gaze.

Maglor leaned closer, cupping David's cheek with his palm.  "All I
need is Vincent, dear child."

David blinked, realizing for the first time that he was not here due
to a mutual need of him.  He was here because *Vincent* wanted him to
be.  "But, are you all he needs?" he whispered.  A muscle twitched in
Maglor's jaw and his eyes seemed to flash dangerously.  "He needs
something, Marcus, but it isn't you," David finished.

TBC...

Chapter Twelve

It was late when Erestor entered the apartment.  The silence was
almost deafening as he tossed a large packet of papers onto a nearby
table.  He shed his coat and turned, gasping when he finally realized
Maglor was seated on their worn sofa, watching him with intent, angry
eyes.

"Maglor," he sighed, unbraiding his hair.  "You shouldn't sit in the
dark, still as death.  It's not natural."

Maglor snorted.  "And we're oh so natural," he quipped sardonically.

Erestor sighed, glancing around the vacant room.  "Where is David?"

"Your pet is asleep in your bed," Maglor said, his tone warning
Erestor that the elder vampire was not happy.

"Since when did it become *my* bed, Maglor?  I do recall someone else
occupying it other than myself."  Erestor crossed his arms and glared
down at Maglor.  He was in no mood to play with Maglor's jealousy, and
he just wanted a shower and some rest.

Maglor's lips were tight, his eyes burning with an inner fire.  "It
became yours when you brought the stray home and insisted on keeping
it."  Maglor stood up, now taller than Erestor, and continued to stare
at him.  "You know what happens when you become involved with a
mortal, when your *heart* becomes involved."

"Don't you dare," Erestor hissed, narrowing his eyes.

Maglor raised an eyebrow.  "Dare what, lover?  Tell the truth?  Fran
died because you loved her!"

"She died because of the fire!" Erestor shot back.

"Had you not married her, Erestor, she would not have been there.
Violet would not have been there!"  Maglor loomed over Erestor, not
sure what he was angry at any longer.  "Fran died because of you, and
Violet was taken because of me.  Do not sentence David to the same
type of fate."

Erestor measured Maglor carefully.  "What did he say, Maglor?"  When
he received no response, he pressed forward.  "What did David say that
has you so upset?"

They stared at one another, Erestor silently demanding an answer and
Maglor carefully weighing his options.  When Erestor thought Maglor
would simply refuse to respond, Maglor surprised him by cupping his
face in a vicious grip and kissing him.  The kiss was not loving or
tender, but bruising and possessive.  Maglor thrust his tongue between
Erestor's parted lips and laid claim to the younger vampire's mouth as
he had on only a handful of occasions.

When Maglor finally released him, pushing him away, Erestor stumbled
back against the wall, panting.  "What did he say, Maglor?" he asked
again, his lips aching.

Maglor, his back to Erestor, spoke in a soft, defeated voice.  "He
said that you needed something, but that something was not me."

Erestor was silent for a few moments, confusion robbing him of speech.
"Maglor.  You always knew that I needed him, not you.  I need *him*,"
Erestor said sadly.  "And you have never needed me, melethen.  I love
you, and you love me, but we are not *in* love with one another.  Our
hearts are not ours to give."

"Would you give me your heart, Erestor, if it was free to give?"
Maglor asked bitterly.  "The one who stole your life from you?  Could
you love me as you loved him?"

Erestor shook his head.  "That is not the point.  I can't.  And you
don't want my love.  You have a love--"

"Who is *dead*, Erestor!" Maglor cried, facing Erestor with tears
shimmering in his eyes.  "He is *dead*, and I have been without him or
the warmth of his love since the world changed."  Maglor's hands were
clenched in fists as he spoke.  "While you carry some hope that
Glorfindel will somehow return to you, I am not blessed with such a
hope."

"He could--"

He was cut off again.  "No!  His deeds were so terrible that he will
never return from Mandos' halls."  Maglor lifted his chin.  "He is as
damned as I am, and so my life will forever be as grey as it is now."

Erestor's throat tightened and his ears rang.  Something in his heart
told him not to ask, not to wonder at who this mysterious lover of
Maglor's had been or what his fell deeds were, but his lips formed the
words despite his mind's cries.  "Who was it, Maglor?"

Eyes like a raging sea met Erestor's levelly, the pewter depths awash
in misery.  "My brother.  Maedhros."

"Maedhros?"

Maglor nodded.  "We became lovers in Aman, before crossing with our
father to Middle-earth.  He was my heart, my life, all that I held
dear.  I have never told any that we were lovers, but I do not see the
need for such discretions now, do you?" he asked, almost
sarcastically.  "And, since we are doing away with all secrets
concerning my loves, we should perhaps put one more to rest."  Maglor
approached Erestor as he would his prey, feral and dangerous.  "What
do you remember of your death, pen vorn?" (dark one)

"Light.  Brilliant light flooding Angband," Erestor said, his eyes
riveted on Maglor's.  "Soft words and grey eyes."

Maglor leaned closer.  "Your hatred toward me is ill-directed.  I was
not the one to condemn you to your fate.  My brother saw you lying
bleeding and broken, sweet and innocent, and he bit you.  He drank
from you and then he fed you his own blood.  You awoke in my rooms,
one of us, and he was gone.  I am not the source of your misery,
Erestor.  Your creator is dead and gone, forever damned to the cold of
Mandos' halls."  Maglor's face was so close to Erestor's now, and the
elder vampire's eyes were narrowed in anger.  "Be content in that
knowledge," he hissed, instantly regretting the harshness of his tone.
He was not angry with Erestor, of course, but the younger Noldo was at
least an available target.

The words rang in Erestor's ears.  "Why did you never tell me?"

"Ah, but that would have meant revealing too much to you," Maglor
chuckled mirthlessly.

Erestor stared, still stunned at the revelation.  What could he say?
Worthless platitudes?  Maglor would scoff at such sentimental
nonsense.  No, there was nothing that the younger vampire could do to
bring any measure of consolation to the elder.  So, Erestor did all he
could do -- he changed the subject.

"About David," he began, clearing his throat.  "There is something you
should know about him.  I found this picture in his wallet this
morning.  This is why I left for the day.  It is a photo of him with
his father.  Tell me what you see."  Erestor handed the picture to
Maglor, who sat down heavily on the sofa.

Maglor sighed heavily, clearly in no mood for such foolish games.  He
accepted the picture and glanced half-heartedly at it.  All at once,
he stood bolt upright, and his sigh became a gasp.  "Tell me this is a
coincidence."

Erestor crossed his arms and shook his head.  "I wish I could.  But I
spent the day in the library archives tracing the lines, all the way
back into the special collection that only I have access to.  It is no
coincidence."

Maglor looked more closely at the picture.  The resemblance was
unmistakable.  The ancient Noldo mentally stripped away the
eyeglasses, the modern clothing, and the camcorder around the
shoulder, and replaced them with a light helm, ring mail armor
emblazoned with the White Tree of Gondor, and the sheath of Andúril,
Flame of the West.

He was staring at King Elessar.

Erestor continued, "This is why his family could sense us.  This is
why it was so difficult for me to penetrate his mind.  His is the line
of the Númenoreans.  Diluted almost beyond recognition, to be sure,
but a trace of that noble blood still flows in his veins."

"And he doesn't know?" Maglor asked, but held up his hand.  "Stupid
question.  Of course he doesn't know, or else he would have a far
better idea of who we are."

"So, what do we do now?" Erestor asked, sitting on the arm of the sofa
as Maglor fell into the deep cushions.

Maglor continued to stare at the image.  "What do you think we should
do?"

Erestor thought for a moment before saying, "Do we tell him the whole
truth?"

"Do you think he would believe us?"  Maglor still did not look up at
Erestor for fear the younger vampire would see the smile tugging at
his lips.  How he loved to tease Erestor, and the lighter mood they
were creating was a welcome respite from the earlier confessions he
had made.

Erestor opened his mouth, and then closed it again with a sigh.  "Are
you playing questions with me?"

Maglor smirked.  "Would you like me to?"

"Damn it, Maglor!" Erestor snapped, smacking the back of Maglor's head
sharply.

"Statement!  My point."  Maglor smiled up at Erestor while rubbing the
sore spot where Erestor had struck him.

Erestor glared down at his lover.  "This is no time for games!"

Maglor laid a hand on Erestor thigh as he spoke, his smile never
leaving his lips.  His tone took on an almost hysterical quality.  "My
dear Erestor, there is no better time.  You have just revealed to me
that the mortal who sleeps in our bed is none other than the
culmination of the long-forgotten line of Númenor, and that his father
and uncle, who lay even a generation closer to that ancient power, are
but a provocation away from seeking to destroy us utterly, and are
perhaps the only living mortals with the ability to do so!"  Maglor
threw his hands up in the air with exaggerated glee.  "Games may be
all we have left!"

"We'll relocate," Erestor shot back.

Maglor sobered, countering with, "They will find us!"

"We'll have David speak to them for us," Erestor tried, desperate to
find a solution to the problem.

Maglor shook his head.  "They will not listen!"

Erestor stood up and angrily stared at Maglor.  "Then what do you
suggest, Maglor?  Hunt them down?"

Maglor stilled, fixing his stony gaze on Erestor.  "I fear, melethen,
that they will come for us soon enough."

TBC...

Chapter Thirteen

"David, we must talk," Erestor said quietly, touching his lips to
David's slightly parted ones.  The hazel eyes slowly opened, still
clouded with sleep, but the Man smiled up at Erestor.  "Come; Marcus
has made tea and coffee."

David blinked slowly, fully waking as Vincent helped him up.  He
slipped on a pair of silk trousers and yawned as he padded through the
hallway behind Vincent.  "Why couldn't this wait until the morning?"

"Because what we need to tell you is important," Erestor said, sitting
on the sofa, patting the cushion next to him.  "Sit, David."

"I am not a lap dog, Vincent," David said sourly, but he sat.

Erestor glanced up at Maglor before returning his gaze to David.  "My
name is not Vincent, David."

David stopped in mid-sip of the scalding coffee Marcus had handed him.
He raised his eyebrows and set his mug down.  "I figured it wasn't,
but I was not going to press you for what you were really called."

"Well, don't worry," Maglor said from his position by a window,
perched on a stool.  "We have decided you need to know who we are."

"Did you, in all your studies, study linguistics?" Erestor asked,
wanting to probe David's knowledge a bit.

David nodded.  "Of course.  I am a historian, and as such, I had to
learn various languages and how to interpret ones I may not already
know."

"All right.  Did you ever study the languages Professor Tolkien
created for his world?" Erestor ventured.

Once more, the Man nodded.  "I took a semester on it.  It was
fascinating.  Why?  What does that have to do with your names?"

"I just wanted to know if you had heard of Tolkien's works before I
told you who we were."  Erestor's eyes met David's, not sure what he
was searching for.  All he saw in the warm, hazel orbs was curiosity
and confusion.  Erestor bit his lip for a moment, and urged by
Maglor's impatient clearing of his throat, Erestor just blurted it
out.  "Our names are Maglor," Erestor said, nodding his head in
Maglor's direction, "and Erestor."

David pursed his lips and furrowed his brow in thought.  "Okay," he
nodded.  "That's one.  What are the other five impossible things that
I need to believe before breakfast?"

"You're taking this remarkably well," Erestor noted.

David shrugged.  "Hell, if I can believe in vampires, I can believe in
Elves.  I can even believe in vampiric Elves from a fictional world
flowing from the pen-scratchings of a long-dead British repressed
homosexual."

"Hmm.  He didn't seem that repressed when I met him," Maglor mumbled.

David pinched the bridge of his nose.  "That's two," he groaned.

Erestor moved closer to David and took his hands.  "It's very simple.
Part of the mythos is that Tolkien translated all of the tales from
the Red Book of Westmarch, right?  Well, the truth is, that's exactly
what happened.  I'll show you."

Maglor leaned forward when Erestor stood and walked to the small
library.  "Erestor rescued the original Red Book from the scribes of
Gondor at the very beginning of this, the longest of all Ages.  The
time of the Elves was over, and the book held the only complete
account of our history.  Erestor protected that book for centuries.
It was only because of the direst emergency that he was finally forced
to leave it behind."

"And I never stopped searching for it," came Erestor's voice from the
library door.  He held in his hands a tattered, but still tightly
bound red book.  "It is hard to believe that it wasn't destroyed, and
for a long while, I despaired of ever finding it intact again."

"Tolkien found it, didn't he?" David asked.  "He found it, and was
able to translate it because of his linguistic training."

Erestor nodded.  "The book is basically Middle-earth's Rosetta Stone.
It contains enough Quenya, Sindarin, and Westron -- which virtually
gave birth to primitive Gaelic and Welsh -- to piece together most of
the meanings.  Tolkien started to publish some of the early
translations in scholarly journals, and that's how I found him."

"Publishing these fantastical stories would have destroyed any
credibility he had," Maglor continued.  "So we went to him and
persuaded him to publish them as fiction and completely obscure their
source."

David looked at Maglor skeptically and prodded, "Persuaded?  You
mean...?"

"Yes, as in it took a preternatural force of will to convince him,"
Maglor said with a hint of frustration.  "Fortunately, the human mind
is easier to manipulate during states of extreme relaxation; say, in
the aftermath of an orgasm."

David held up his hands.  "More than I need to know."

Erestor sat down beside David again and placed the book in his lap,
opened to a well-known page.  The Man looked down at the strange
language.  Foreign though it was, the lettering was Romanized, and the
vocabulary was frighteningly close to English -- close enough for him
to understand the few words before him.

"There and Back Again," he read.  "A Hobbit's Tale by Bilbo Baggins."
David looked between Erestor, Maglor, and the book.  "You're not
bullshitting me, are you?" he said in dead seriousness.

"No, dear David.  I am afraid we are not," Maglor said softly.  "Close
your eyes and run your fingertips along Erestor's ear."

Unsure of this strange command, David hesitated.  When Erestor nodded
encouragingly, David shrugged and closed his eyes.  Erestor guided the
mortal's questing fingers to his ear.  David slid his fingers upward
from the lobe, expecting to feel the gentle curve across the top, but
instead, his touch revealed... a point?  His eyes flew open, and sure
enough, he could see his fingers resting at the tip of a pointed ear.

"How did you do that?" he demanded, pulling his hand back.  He looked
at Erestor's other ear, but saw only the ear he would expect to see.

"I didn't do anything," Erestor explained.  "You did.  Your mind
refused to believe what it was seeing until you touched it.  This is
how we can move among mortals in this Age of Man without arousing
suspicion.  The human mind simply refuses to see what it cannot accept
to be true.  Even now, if you do not concentrate, you will likely not
see us as we truly are."

David squinted at Erestor's ears.  The vampire -- no, dammit, the Elf
-- was right.  Even focusing right at the tip of the ear, the point
seemed to fade in and out of sight.  When his eyes began to water,
David blinked several times.  "Right.  So, what are we up to now, four
or five?"

"Trust me, breakfast is coming soon, your Majesty," Maglor quipped.
Then he turned slightly to address Erestor. "Trenaro athen."  (Tell
him the whole story.)

Erestor sighed.  "There is more.  Now that you know who we are, it is
time for you to learn who you are.  When I was probing your mind, I
saw a face that I never thought to see again.  It was someone I knew
in the times when this book was written.  I thought for a moment that
your family had made the connection to Tolkien's works."

"No way.  There's no way that we would have ever come up with
something this incredible," David said quickly.

"I know that now.  I went through your wallet this morning, wanting to
know more about you, and I found the source of the face I saw.  Your
father's face."

David's face twisted in confusion.  "But I thought you said it was a
face you'd known from Middle-earth?"

"It was."  Erestor reached into David's lap and turned the pages of
the book to almost the end.  On the page, looking up at David, was an
ink drawing of a Man in battle armor wielding a sword inscribed with
Elvish runes.  The face was identical to that in the photograph that
Erestor now returned.

"Who am I looking at?" David said with a slight tremble in his voice.

"That," Maglor interrupted, "is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, also known
as King Elessar of Gondor.  He is your ancestor."

David stood up, oblivious to the book still on his lap.  Erestor
rushed to catch the Red Book before it hit the ground.  Maglor,
meanwhile, watched David.  The Man paced back and forth a few times,
staring down at the picture of his father.  Finally, he stopped and
looked up at the two vampires.  "That's six.  I think I want waffles
for breakfast."

Then he passed out.

Maglor groaned and walked over to the collapsed Man.  "This is
becoming a terrible habit," he grumbled as he lifted David up,
following Erestor down the hallway and into their bedroom.

*****

It was bright when David opened his eyes.  He was nude, covered with a
thick comforter, and his head pounded.  He sat up slowly, cradling his
head in his hands.  God, what the hell happened?

Then he remembered.

Elves.  Vampires.  Aragorn.

"I see you have woken, sleeping beauty," Erestor said lightly, placing
a tray on the bed beside David.  "We were beginning to worry."
Erestor pointed toward the tray.  "I believe you wanted waffles?"

David's stomach turned at the sight of the butter- and syrup-drenched
waffles.  Instead, he took the warm mug of fragrant tea in hand and
sipped the sweet liquid, closing his eyes against the harsh afternoon
light.  "Could you close the shades?  My head is killing me and the
light is not helping."

Maglor appeared and closed the blinds, plunging the room into
twilight.  "Does that help?"

"Yes, thank you," David said, continuing to sip his tea and relax
against the pillows.  As he drank the tea, David pondered on what he
remembered of Tolkien's works, as well as what Erestor and Maglor had
told him themselves.  "I thought the Elves sailed West," he said
absently.

Erestor nodded.  "They did."

"Why haven't you?"

Maglor joined the two on the bed, sitting cross-legged.  "We are not
of the Elves any longer, and so the way is shut to us.  Aman is not
our land anymore."

"If Aman exists, and it is to the west, why have we never come across
it in all of our sea explorations?  One would think that such a place
would be easily noticed," David said, setting the empty mug on the
tray.

"Well," Erestor began, "when the Númenoreans decided to seek the
Blessed Realm, the Valar removed Aman from the circles of the world.
They hid it from all but the Elves who would one day return.  When an
Elf prepares to sail for Aman, they merely begin sailing west.  If
they are deemed worthy, the path is shown to them and they sail to the
harbors there.  The Valar admit only those they desire to," Erestor
finished sadly.

"Have you never tried?" David asked, his heart aching at the sorrow in
Erestor's beautiful voice.

Maglor laughed hollowly.  "Oh, we have tried.  Sailing west never
really works out for us."

David tilted his head as he regarded Maglor quizzically.  "How so?"

"Each time we have sailed westward," Erestor said on a sigh,
"something terrible has happened to the ship.  A hurricane, churning
seas, whirlpools, icebergs--"

"You were on the Titanic!" David cried, wincing as his head pounded.
He took a deep breath, willing his stomach not to expel the tea onto
the lovely comforter.  "I have a photograph of you both, standing on
the gangway leading up to the Titanic.  You were smiling and waving."

Maglor snorted.  "Erestor insisted we be on the maiden voyage."

"I did not!" Erestor shot back, pinching Maglor's exposed ankle.

"Ow!  Yes, you did!  You bought the tickets and told me you would
leave me in Liverpool if I did not come with you."  Maglor turned to
David, still rubbing his ankle.  "He made other, more frightening,
threats, but I shall not repeat them."

Erestor glared at Maglor.  "I *should* have left you in Liverpool."

They stared at one another, and David soon realized that they had
forgotten he was in the room.  He cleared his throat, shifting
uncomfortably.  "So, what happened?"

Maglor smiled rakishly.  "What happened?  Well, for an unsinkable
ship, it sure as hell sank."

TBC...

Chapter Fourteen

Titanic, April 14, 1912

Erestor forced his mouth from the throat of the woman.  He had waited
too long to feed, and he struggled not to drain her dry.  He looked
down at the woman.  The slight wound had already begun to heal.  By
morning, it would be no more than a bruise.  He turned the head toward
his and stared into her eyes, just about to alter her memory of the
event, when he felt the shuddering impact of the ship with something
in the water.  Something large.

Finishing his work quickly, the well-dressed vampire then made his way
along the dim, dank halls where the Third Class passengers huddled
together, fighting the cold in the bowels of the ship.  His eyes
darted around, seeking his companion.  He soon found Maglor bent over
the body of a young boy.

"Maglor," he called.

The elder vampire released the limp body, allowing the boy to sprawl
across the bed.  "Do I interrupt you when you feed?" Maglor demanded,
wiping his lips with a handkerchief.

Erestor grabbed Maglor's arm, leaning close.  "The ship has struck
something.  Did you not feel the tremor?"

Maglor chuckled.  "This is an unsinkable ship, Erestor.  Isn't that
what you told me?"

"It wouldn't be the first time I was wrong," Erestor grumbled.

"Indeed not.  However, in this case, I think your panic is premature.
This ship was designed to survive collision, after all.  I am certain
that if there is a problem, someone will notify us presently.  Now, if
you don't mind, I am extraordinarily busy with something and would
like to get back to it.  And, judging by your pallor, you could do
with a little more yourself."

*****

Seattle, 2004

"I didn't go back to feeding, though," Erestor continued.  "Something
was definitely wrong; I could feel it.  I made my way to the first
class elevator and up onto the deck.  By the time I got there, I could
see that many of the first class passengers were beginning to assemble
on the deck with their lifejackets.  I found the nearest crewman and
asked him what the trouble was.  He assured me that it was just a
precaution, which is exactly what I would expect him to say in the
event of a serious catastrophe.  So, I rushed back down to find
Maglor."

The elder vampire nodded.  "By the time Erestor found me, barely half
an hour after the collision, the water was already starting to seep
across the floor of the third class berths."

"I wanted to wake the passengers; I wanted to have them go up to the
deck so that they could also be placed on the lifeboats.  But, Maglor
pointed out that there *weren't* enough lifeboats; most of those in
steerage were doomed to a cold death."  Erestor shifted on the bed,
caught up in the memory.  "I continued to insist we wake them, give
them the opportunity to save themselves, but Maglor told me that the
best thing we could do was spend what time we could feeding on those
in third class."

Maglor nodded.  "Rescue would be a long time in coming, and I figured
we would be in that icy water for a while.  Erestor didn't like the
idea, but in the end, he gorged just as I did.  He could not argue
with me; we needed the warmth and strength the blood offered us.  We
moved systematically from the lower to the upper deck of the berths
before the water rose high enough to wake anyone.  We fed until we
were bloated and aching with blood."

"We made it up to the deck around one in the morning.  The ship had
been taking on water for over an hour and was listing."  Erestor
sighed.  "By that time, though, the lower third class berths were
completely flooded, and the upper deck was almost under as well.  Over
five hundred men, women and children drowned in the icy waters that
flooded steerage," Erestor said sadly.

"I would like to say," Erestor began with a shaky voice, "that we
fought to have women and children loaded onto those lifeboats, or that
we convinced the crew members to fill those precious lifeboats to
capacity.  The truth is, we didn't.  We stayed out of everyone's way,
and watched as men took seats that should have gone to screaming
children; we saw crewmembers board lifeboats while passengers were
left behind.  Most of those we saw we knew would die that night."

Maglor spoke up then, grasping Erestor's hand in his own.  "Do not
mistake inaction for immunity to the suffering we saw that night,
David," he said softly.  "Our hearts still bleed for those we saw,
their fear palpable, knowing that their deaths were imminent.  But,
had we done anything, we risked revealing ourselves for what we are.
The last thing the crew needed was something to incite more panic."

Erestor cleared is throat.  "We will spare you the details of those
final moments on the RMS Titanic.  There is enough history written on
that time; picking up a text on the topic can fill in the blanks.

"Once the stern had disappeared under the surface of the water, we
were among a throng of passengers that escaped the suction the stern
made as it sank.  We did our best to save those around us; we helped
people onto floating debris and onto damaged lifeboats.  Anything to
keep them afloat and out of that water."

Maglor moved closer to David, noting the wide, hazel eyes were
slightly glazed as he listened to their story.  "We remained in the
water for over two hours before the Carpathia arrived and began to
retrieve the lifeboats.  In those two very long hours, David, we
listened as the screams of men and women, of children, grew hoarse,
and then became silent."  Maglor glanced up to Erestor's eyes, which
were brimming with unshed tears.  "The memories are vivid in our
minds, and that silence was deafening."

"We stowed away in the hold of the Carpathia, slowly defrosting in the
bowels of the ship, and we allowed our identities to be counted among
those who perished in the Atlantic waters that night," Erestor said,
thinking back to that dank, but warm, hold.

*****

Carpathia, April 15, 1912

"Unsinkable?" Maglor asked.

"That was what the brochure said!" Erestor shot back.

Maglor stripped out of the wet, cold clothing he wore and tore into a
nearby steamer trunk, pulling out warmer clothes.  "I swear, Erestor,
you are determined to have us drown."

Erestor glared at Maglor, pulling dry clothes over his clammy flesh.
"Maglor, we're dead.  We *can't* drown."

"Ha.  I am sure Ulmo would find some way to see us meet our end,"
Maglor grumbled, falling heavily to the floor of the hold.

"You could have stayed in Liverpool, Maglor," Erestor said tiredly,
sitting next to his lover on the floor.

Maglor shook his head.  "No, I couldn't.  You emptied the bank account
and sold the house."

Erestor grinned up at Maglor.  "Aye, I suppose you had no choice but
to come with me."  Erestor lay back, closing his eyes.  "I don't think
we should cross west anymore."

"You know we can't help it.  The pull is still there, even if the
Valar will not admit us."  Maglor stretched out next to Erestor.  "I
heard the crew talking above; the Carpathia is headed for New York."

"At least we will still arrive in New York," Erestor said, cuddling
closer to Maglor's body.  "The trip wasn't a complete disaster."

"Erestor, the ship sank!  It *is* a complete disaster!" Maglor said,
his voice colored with disbelief.

"Well, we still have our health."  Erestor chuckled, but there was a
hysterical edge to it.  He could not allow himself to focus on what he
had just witnessed.  So much death; he would go mad.

Maglor pinched the bridge of his nose.  "No, we don't!  We're *dead*!"

"And there is an upside to that, too," Erestor said, forcing a
cheerful tone.

The elder vampire sighed.  "What is that, Erestor?"

Erestor snorted.  "We do have those very lucrative life insurance
policies..."

*****

Seattle, 2004

The room was quiet as Erestor finished the tale.  Maglor continued to
watch David, who hadn't moved in all that time.  "David?" he asked
softly.

"Yes?" the Man asked, blinking several times.  "I'm sorry.  My God,
that was... so vivid!"  David shook his head.  "Such tragedy."

Erestor nodded.  "One thousand five hundred and sixteen people died
that night, and our names are counted among them."

"Is that what happened also on the Antonia Doria?" David asked.  "The
ship left Italy bearing you both west, but never arrived.  It simply
disappeared."

"What happened to the Antonia Doria was Maglor's fault," Erestor said
quickly.

Maglor smacked Erestor's head.  "I can hardly be blamed for that!"

"If you can blame me for the sinking of the Titanic, I can blame you
for the loss of the Antonia Doria!" Erestor shouted, rubbing the side
of his head.

"But, *what* happened?" David pressed impatiently.

Erestor grimaced.  "The story behind the Antonia Doria is not one we
like to recall often.  It was a mess, and one best left to the ghosts
of the sea."

TBC...

Chapter Fifteen

"Following World War II, we remained in Europe, aiding in the
reconstruction efforts," Maglor said, sipping the coffee Erestor had
made.  "But, as the years wore on, that pull west began to surface
again.  When we were idle, it was the worst.  In 1965, I booked us
passage on the Italian cruise liner the Antonia Doria."

Erestor looked up at David; they had shifted their positions so that
Erestor's head now rested in David's lap and Maglor sat in front of
them.  Erestor was sandwiched between his lovers.  "It was a
magnificent ship, David.  The Italian liners could not compete with
the British liners in speed, but they compensated with luxury and
opulence."

Maglor nodded.  "And while not as large as the Titanic, the Antonia
Doria was more than comfortable for a Trans-Atlantic voyage."  He put
his mug aside.  "But, the liner had fallen on hard times by the time
we boarded her; she was outclassed by other great Italian liners like
the Michelangelo and the Raffaello."

"Although the Antonia Doria could hold almost fourteen hundred
passengers, there were less than six hundred of us on that crossing,"
Erestor said softly.  "In those days, the Italian liners took eight,
perhaps ten days to cross the Atlantic.  In the luxury of the Antonia
Doria, though, there was little people wanted for.  There were three
pools on board, nightly shows in the dining rooms, organized games
during the day -- it was structured and lavish at the same time.

"We had a stateroom on the Boat Deck; First Class section, of course.
We would travel to the lower decks, typically the B or C decks, to
feed from the Third Class passengers.  We were careful, though,
feeding from several rather than one or two and risk detection.  We
were at sea no more than three days when the trouble occurred,"
Erestor said, closing his eyes as David ran his fingers through his
hair.

Maglor loosely held Erestor's hands, fingering Glorfindel's ring
Erestor had worn since their confrontation about the Elda.  "Various
crewmembers died.  Accidents, really.  Two men in one of the boiler
rooms were locked in when the boiler was vented.  A man tripped and
fell over the railing into the water while he was cleaning the deck.
One of the female attendants was found at the bottom of a stairwell."
Maglor shrugged.  "Then they started disappearing.  Now, because there
were only six hundred of us aboard, they were not sailing with a full
crew.  By the end of the week, half a dozen more of the crew just went
missing.  A few of the passengers began to panic and claimed that the
ship was cursed."

"While we weren't responsible for any of the deaths," Erestor
explained, "there were enough Italian seniors around with enough of a
folklore background that they began to suspect us anyway.  Two men,
traveling together in the same room, never seen in the dining room,
but often noticed moving around in the lower class cabins.  Some of
them began to talk to others about it.  It wasn't long before people
would turn the other way if they saw us approach, or make 'evil eye'
warding gestures as they passed.  More and more of them would take
special care to lock the doors to their cabins, and never walk along
the decks alone.  For us, feeding in any capacity became first
difficult, then impossible."

Maglor continued, "We didn't know it at the time, but the captain was
among those crew who disappeared.  A grand mutiny was underway, right
under our very noses.  The first mate had commandeered the vessel,
gathered those loyal to him, and disposed of anyone else.  He had been
slowly steering the boat south, making small course corrections each
day so that it was less noticeable to the passengers.  By the tenth
day, though, we were moving almost due south, and the change in the
position of the sunrise was enough to alert most people that something
was wrong.

"The first mate explained to anyone with questions that there was a
problem with one of the main engines.  No, it was nothing serious, he
said, but it required them to follow a different shipping lane that
didn't force them to fight against the currents.  It shouldn't delay
the arrival too much longer, and no, the captain isn't available right
now, but I will give him your message.

"By then, of course, it was too late.  By dawn on the eleventh day,
over a third of the passengers were dead, apparently from food
poisoning, and probably half of those left were too ill to leave their
beds.  Word was circulated throughout the ship that everyone still
feeling well was to assemble on the main deck to be checked by the
ship's doctor.  Erestor and I, having no need for either food or
doctors, naturally remained in our cabin."

"If we hadn't, maybe things would have been different," Erestor said,
taking over the story.

*****

Antonia Doria, 1965

A knock at the cabin door roused the two vampires from their
near-slumber.  Barely an hour had passed since the order was given for
the passengers to assemble, and the two had barely managed to fall
asleep again.  Grumbling softly, Erestor dragged himself from the warm
bed and pulled on a pair of pants.

"Whoever it is," Maglor mumbled, "eat them."

Erestor chuckled.  "Hush.  It's probably just one of the crewmen
wondering why we aren't up on the main deck.  I'll tell him to go
away."  He opened the door and admitted Crewman Salvatore into the
sitting room.

"If Sir is feeling well, then Sir should be on the main deck,"
Salvatore said in Italian.

"We are both feeling fine," Erestor answered, also in Italian.  "We
did not eat the dinner last night, so there is no need for us to see a
doctor."

"But, Sir, the doctor thinks there are more than bad clams involved in
this.  He wants to give everyone an injection of penicillin just to be
safe."

"Ah, there you have it.  My companion and I are both allergic to
penicillin.  It is just as well that we remain here."

"I am afraid," Salvatore said, a sudden sharpness to his voice, "that
I cannot allow you to do that."  He flicked his right wrist, and
Erestor heard the soft sound of metal scraping on metal.  As the
crewman brought his hand up, the light glinted off the straight razor
he held.

For Erestor, the world seemed to slip into slow motion as his vampiric
reflexes took over.  He stepped into the blow, bringing his arm over
Salvatore's and trapping him at the elbow.  A small squeeze, and the
man's arm snapped like a twig.  Salvatore screamed twice before
Erestor broke his neck.

Maglor burst through the door from the bedroom.  "What the hell is
going on?"

"I have no idea," Erestor said slowly.  He bent down and picked up the
straight razor from the dead man's hand.  "Salvatore here just tried
to kill me.  Something is seriously fucked up on this ship."

"So what else is new?" Maglor groaned as he stepped into his slacks.

Without pausing to put on shirt or shoes, or even tie back their hair,
the two vampires stepped into the hallway.  The scent of blood was
suffocatingly strong.  Fresh blood -- gallons of it.  But poisoned,
undrinkable.  Starving as they were, surrounded by the smell of what
they craved but could not consume, Maglor and Erestor's senses
redoubled in intensity along with the gnawing hunger.  Their control
hung from a narrow thread.

And then it snapped.

Two crewmen exited the rooms on either side of theirs, both sheathing
straight razors.  "Everything okay, Salvatore?" one asked before
looking up into Maglor's bestial face.

"Everything's fine," Maglor said, stabbing forward with two fingers
into the man's throat.  The air rushed out through the hole with a
pop, followed by a gurgling as blood spurted from the wound.  Maglor
leaned forward and drank up as much as he could as the body fell, but
it was nowhere near enough.

Erestor, meanwhile, had not bothered with pretense but had immediately
lashed out for the crewman nearest him.  He slashed the throat with
the razor, opening his mouth into the spray of vitae.  The vampire
grabbed a handful of hair and pulled the head back as he fed, but
death came too quickly, and he, too, was left unsatisfied.

Two more doors opened farther down the hall.  Erestor and Maglor
turned and leapt the entire distance, tackling their prey to the
ground and tearing into their throats.  This was no tender embrace and
gentle bite, but an animalistic frenzy of violence.  In their
hyper-excited state, though, the energy they gained from the blood
burned off almost as fast as they could drink.  By the time the two
crewmen were dead, the vampires felt just as thirsty as when they
began.

They sniffed the air.  There was no more live blood on the entire
deck.  Moving as one, they stood and moved swiftly to the stairwell to
the lower decks.  Their feet barely touched the ground as they
descended to C deck, in the bowels of the great ship.  Here, the
stench of death was even more palpable than above, yet there were also
numerous flares of life.

One of those flares appeared directly in front of Maglor, and the
elder vampire pulled him in close, breaking both of the man's arms in
the process, and sank his fangs into the warm throat.

As Maglor fed, another door opened at the far end of the hallway.  The
new arrival sighted the vampires and began running toward them,
screaming for his crewmates.  Doors burst open all along the corridor,
and the passageway was soon filled with twenty uniformed crewmembers,
all brandishing straight razors dripping blood.

Maglor dropped his latest victim to the ground, and for a moment, all
froze in shock, and silence dropped heavily across the mob.  Then
Erestor howled and plunged into the fray.  Two of the men fell in an
eyeblink, one slashed across the throat, and the other across the
abdomen.  Erestor no longer gave any thought to feeding; he merely
spun and cut his way through the murderous crew with an almost
Florentine flourish.  He ripped a second razor from the hand of one of
the men as he fell and began dealing death from both sides.

When the last one fell, Erestor turned to look at Maglor across the
field of dead and dying.  His arms were covered in blood and bile up
to the elbow.  The ancient Noldo could only stare in disbelief.  The
entire massacre had played out in less than thirty seconds.  Erestor
stood panting, spittle dripping from his lips, and his bare chest
spattered in blood.  Maglor took a deep breath, though the hunger
continued to consume him, and he *reached* out with his mind.  He
scanned the upper decks and found no life on them.  There were flashes
of life, but they were moving up, up.

The main deck.

Maglor then directed his thoughts to Erestor.  He pushed an image of
the main deck into Erestor's blood-frenzied mind, and the younger
vampire nodded.  They slowly moved up the various stairwells, Maglor's
mind constantly searching for prey while Erestor gnashed at the air in
animalistic fury.

The two vampires crested the stairs, the main deck spread out before
them.  There were perhaps six of the crew officers facing one of the
elevators, and Maglor could hear the whirr of the wheels.  The doors
slid open and the six officers opened fire, quickly slaughtering the
crewmembers in the elevator.

Erestor sniffed the air, his black eyes scanning the deck.  The
swimming pool.  It was normally bright blue-green, crystalline; now it
was ghastly red with limp bodies floating in the chlorinated water.
The officers who had killed the crewmen in the elevator returned to
the door Erestor knew led onto the bridge of the ship.  They would
shoot their guns at the steel door, pound on it, and shout at those he
could sense cowering from them inside.  The door to the stairwell
slammed shut as Maglor joined Erestor on the deck, and the mutinous
first mate swung around, blindly firing his machine gun.

The two vampires stood impassively, clothed in trousers slick with
body fluids, bare torsos spattered with blood and bits of flesh, and
eyes as black as the night sky.  There were no irises, no pupils, no
white -- the eyes were inhuman and the lips were pulled back, baring
long, dangerous fangs.  The bullets did not slow their advance, and
the two leapt over a pile of dead passengers, rushing toward the armed
officers.

Erestor easily slashed his clawed hands across one of the men closest
to him, killing him immediately, but he was propelled back as one of
the other officers shot at him at point blank range with his machine
gun.

Maglor glanced at Erestor, and roared his irritation at seeing his
lover on his back, sprawled over the deck.  He jumped behind the first
mate, shielding his body with the man's, and snatched his gun, firing
wildly at the remaining men.  When they fell in bloody heaps to the
floor, Maglor dropped the first mate's bullet-riddled body, panting as
he made his way to where Erestor lay dazed.

Erestor snarled, but took Maglor's proffered hand, and stood.  They
both turned their eyes, glittering like onyx in the moonlight, to the
warped bridge door.  The cries and screams were easily heard by the
vampires; Maglor looked through the small glass window and into the
bridge.  He could see about a dozen frightened passengers huddled
against a far wall.  Erestor growled deep in his throat and pushed
Maglor away, gripping the steel door.  With a primal cry, he ripped
the door from its hinges, and tossed the offending metal aside.

The passengers inside the bridge screamed at the sight of the two
vampires, and Maglor's ears rang with the sound.  "Shut up!" he
screamed, and all the passengers stilled, their eyes blank and their
faces pale.

Erestor moved around the frozen figures, checking the instruments.
"All the radios have been destroyed," he said, his voice deep and
guttural, the words obscured slightly by his fangs.  "The compass has
been shot and the helm is locked."

Maglor closed his eyes and forced his heart to slow, the hunger to
recede.  When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was once again
pewter.  "Erestor.  We do not know where we are, since they have taken
us so far off course.  There is no way for us to seek help.  The
passengers will starve to death, and we will go insane with hunger,
assuming this ship does not collide with anything Ulmo chooses to
raise in its path."

Still lost in his hunger, Erestor regarded Maglor with those glassy
black eyes.  "What would you suggest we do, Maglor?" he hissed.

"I suggest we offer these passengers a painless death, quenching our
hunger.  We can overfeed, prepare ourselves for a long wait before we
reach civilization."  When Erestor did not object, which Maglor was
expecting, he turned his burning eyes to an auburn-haired woman still
dressed in her lacey nightgown.  "Come," he said to her.

He touched her mind, soothing her fears and altering what her eyes saw
as she looked upon him.  Her name was Lisa, and she was to join her
husband in New York.  She would never arrive.  Her chocolate eyes
drooped, becoming lost in an illusion Maglor created for her.  She
swooned in his arms, her pulse fluttering with arousal as Maglor
projected the vision of him laying her on a satin bed, resting himself
comfortably between her thighs, and kissing her neck tenderly.

She surrendered completely to the image, the horrors she had witnessed
that night fading under the fantasy.  He bit her, gentle and sweet,
taking care not to pull her from the dream, and she gasped.  In the
fantasy, he moved inside her, brought her closer and closer to
completion with her legs wrapped tightly around his lean waist.  As
her body shuddered in the vision with orgasm, the body in Maglor's arm
trembled on the cusp of death.

He released her neck as her heart ceased beating, and allowed her to
slip from his arms.  She crumpled in a lifeless heap at his feet, but
her blood coursed through his body, warming him.  Maglor turned to
Erestor and was relieved to see the deep brown orbs surrounded by
white once more.

They could only drain two passengers each before they were bloated
with blood.  "We cannot continue to feed, Maglor," Erestor warned.  "I
have not felt nauseous in centuries, but if I try to take one more..."
he left the sentence unfinished, knowing that Maglor felt the same.

Maglor nodded sadly.

The eight passengers still held under Maglor's sway met swift deaths.
Each vampire broke necks, soothing the mortals' minds with visions of
peace.  As the sun rose, they showered, washing the blood from each
other's bodies, both lost in their dark thoughts.  They dressed in
light clothes and launched one of the lifeboats.  The sun was dipping
low in the sky by the time they boarded the boat.  Maglor began rowing
toward the setting sun, toward the west, leaving the bloody halls of
the Antonia Doria behind.

TBC...

Chapter Sixteen

Erestor leaned against the doorframe, his eyes closed.  He knew Maglor
sat on the edge of the bed, his hands gripping the mattress.  David,
though, was behind the bathroom door.

"Are you certain you don't need any help?" Erestor called.

There was more choking sounds followed by the flush of the toilet.
The door opened and David appeared, pale and sick looking.  "No,
Erestor, I don't think I need help to throw up."

Erestor opened his eyes.  "We told you it wasn't a happy ending."

"You didn't tell me it was wholesale slaughter, either!" David cried.

"David, you asked.  We told you."  Maglor stood up.  "I will go make
you some ginger tea; it will help to settle your stomach."

"I don't think my stomach will ever be settled again," the mortal
mumbled as he collapsed on the bed.  He felt Erestor's weight next to
him and he gazed up into the soft, dark eyes of his vampiric lover.
"Do you regret it?"

Erestor tilted his head.  "Regret?  No.  I regret too many things
already."

"But why did they do it?" David asked.

"I have no idea," Erestor said with a shrug and a sigh.  "My best
guess is that they were planning to pirate the cargo.  Those old
liners were floating art galleries, and also carried people's entire
lives with them sometimes -- cars, clothes, jewelry -- enough for
three crews to live on.  But I think the officers got greedy.  After
they ordered the crew to wipe out the passengers below decks, they
massacred them as they stepped onto the main deck."

There was a pregnant silence as David thought on the two stories he
had just heard.  The Antonia Doria sounded *very* familiar to him.  He
sat up and glared at Erestor.  "You are liars!"

"What?" Erestor asked, taken aback.

"What you just told me was the storyline of Ghost Ship!  It's a
goddamn movie, Erestor!" David accused.

"That is where it becomes my fault," Maglor said as he entered the
room.  "I sat beside Mark Hanlon on a transatlantic flight in '98.
Bored to tears, we started talking.  One thing led to another, and I
found myself telling him the tale of the Antonia Doria, but I told it
as a fictional legend behind the disappearance of the ship, minus the
vampires.  Two years ago, I saw the trailer for Ghost Ship.  He had
changed a lot of the minor details, added some occult twists to it,
and ta-da!  He had a movie."

Erestor smiled at David.  "Maglor is still sore he didn't think to do
the same thing."

David chuckled and sipped the spicy sweet tea Maglor had brought him.
His eyes slowly dropped, and just as his mug was about to fall from
his hands, Erestor caught it.

"You drugged him," Erestor said, smelling the tranquilizers in the
liquid.

Maglor nodded, brushing hair out of David's face.  "He needs a deep,
restful sleep, Erestor."

Erestor nodded, still gazing down at the man.  "I love him, Maglor,"
he confessed quietly.

"I know," was all the reply he received.

*****

When he woke, it was dark out and the moon was high in the sky.  He
sat up and yawned.  He turned his head and screamed.  Erestor was
naked on the bed next to him, silent and still as he watched him.
"Don't *do* that!" David snapped, placing his hand over his heart.
Erestor's eyes did not blink, and David could swear there was a hungry
gleam in the vampire's eyes.  "Erestor?" he whispered.

"Maglor has gone out until dawn.  He needs to feed."

David nodded.  "Why didn't you go with him?  Don't you need to feed?"

Erestor smiled seductively.  "Yes, I do."  He licked his lips, those
black eyes glittering.  "He left you for me."

"Why?" David asked, his heart beginning to race with fear.  He did not
like the way Erestor's voice sounded.

The vampire pulled the comforter away from David's nude body.  David
fell back against the pillow, Erestor's face hovering above his,
dangerously close.  "You would not believe me if I told you," he
breathed, drawing his tongue along David's bottom lip.

The human shuddered, arousal and fear warring within him.  "I believed
you were vampires.  I believed you were Elves.  Why wouldn't I believe
anything else you have to tell me?"

"Do you believe the heart of a creature like me can be moved to feel
love?" Erestor asked, nuzzling David's neck.

David trembled, his shaft filling quickly.  "Yes," he said
breathlessly, his eyelids fluttering closed.

"Then believe that I love you," Erestor said, opening his mouth wide.
He clamped down on David's neck, biting deep into the pale throat.
Warm blood gushed into his mouth, spicy and coppery.  David writhed
under Erestor, moaning wantonly as he shared his lifeforce with the
vampire.

Erestor pulled back, his lips wet with blood, his teeth long and
sharp.  David's dilated eyes gazed up at him.  The Man reached up,
bringing Erestor's savage mouth to his.  He tasted blood for a moment,
but Erestor lifted his lips from David's.  "What?" David panted.

"I want to give you something," Erestor said.

Erestor's tone was different.  Was the Elf scared?  David simply
nodded, trusting Erestor completely.  Erestor reached over to the
nightstand, taking the lubrication from the table.  David watched as
Erestor squeezed the cool gel onto his fingertips.  Those slick
fingers soon found their way into his passage, and David arched
against Erestor's lithe body.  "Erestor!"

"Yes."  Erestor moved his two fingers in and out of David's passage,
spreading the gel deep.  He then withdrew his fingers and added more
lubricant, smearing it along his hard length.

David drew his legs up to his chest, resting his feet on Erestor's
shoulders.  Erestor pierced him slowly, tenderly, and David whimpered
with need.  They kissed and touched, with Erestor thrusting in long,
measured movements.  David's sex was heavy on his belly, aching to be
touched.  "Is this what you wanted to give me?" he asked, his voice
hitching as he was impaled again.

"No," Erestor whispered, kissing David again.  "Wrap your legs around
my waist," he commanded, and David complied.  He lifted David as he
sat back so that David was sitting in his lap, Erestor's shaft deeply
embedded inside David.  The Man mewled, his eyes rolling back in his
head, acutely aware of the member stretching his passage.  "This is
what I want to give you."

David opened dazed eyes and watched as Erestor took his clawed hand
and made a deep, but small, incision in his throat.  David's gaze flew
to Erestor's, fear and worry reflected in them.

"You fear it?" Erestor asked.

David swallowed visibly.  "Will I become as you are?"

"No," Erestor said, that seductive smile creeping back onto his lips.
"You are not near death, and you will not drink much."  Erestor
tangled his hands into David's hair, drawing his lips closer to the
vibrant splash of red on Erestor's throat.

David's hot lips latched onto the cut and Erestor hissed.  Blood was a
connection, a conductor, and Erestor opened the channel between his
mind and David's.  Lust, need, love all flooded into David's mind.  He
showed David how he saw him, tall and bronze, warm and alive.  David's
cock pulsed against Erestor's belly, reminding them both that there
were other pleasures to share.  David lifted himself up as he
continued to suckle at Erestor's throat, sitting down forcefully on
Erestor's lap.

Erestor moaned, thrusting up into David's tight, velvet heat.  He
slipped his hand between them and grasped David's erection, his fist
moving over the sticky flesh with eager strokes.  David's lips left
his throat as the Man cried out, throwing his own head back as he
moved up and down Erestor's shaft.  Erestor struck out, sinking his
fangs back into the fresh wounds he had just made.

David bucked in his lap, his seed spilling from his body as he
trembled atop Erestor.  The vampire continued to push up into the
quivering passage, his release just on the horizon.  David lifted his
head as he was fed from and focused his eyes on the seeping wound on
Erestor neck.  He grinned tiredly and latched onto the cut again.
Erestor's body tensed, and David felt his passage filled with
Erestor's fluids.  He released Erestor's neck at the same moment
Erestor released his, staring down into those huge eyes as they both
came down from their orgasmic high.

It was then David noticed something different.  He heard Erestor's
heartbeat, heard the neighbors as they argued, heard the orders being
taken at the diner on the corner!  The room should have been near
pitch black, forcing him to strain to see, but he could see clearly,
yet differently.  Colors were muted, but the room was clear to him.
He also felt an overwhelming thirst, a painful gnawing in his stomach.
He scrambled away from Erestor, panting like a frightened wild animal.
"What have you done?" David yelled, his voice filled with panic.

"It will wear off, David," Erestor assured.  "It is temporary."

"What is?" David demanded.

Erestor smiled.  "You now have an idea what each day is like for us.
The sounds, the visions... the hunger," Erestor said, his tongue
darting out to lick the last of David's blood from his lips.  "But,
look beyond the physical, David."

David shook his head.  "I don't understand..."

"What do you *feel*," Erestor said in a low voice.

The Man fell silent, pondering what Erestor was asking him to do.  His
body hummed with sexual satisfaction, but he did not think that was
what Erestor wanted to hear.  Erestor wanted to know what David felt.
What did he feel?

"Aching loss..." David whispered, his chest crushed under the sudden
weight of the emotion.

Erestor smiled.  "That is what it feels like for me each day, lover,"
the vampire whispered.  "But, you ease that ache."  He leaned close,
kissing David deeply.  "Thank you for that."

David looked up at Erestor with shining eyes.  "Glorfindel," he said,
a tear slipping down his cheek.

TBC...

Chapter Seventeen

Erestor parked the car and looked up at the apartment building.  "I
don't think this is a good idea."

Maglor rested a hand on Erestor's thigh.  "He needs clothing and
necessities, Erestor."

"Yes," David said, stepping out of the car.  "I also need to get my
mail and check my messages."  It had seemed like a lifetime since he
had been here, his life before Erestor and Maglor.  "Come on.  If we
hurry, we can still make it to Melindor at a reasonable time!"

The vampires exited the car, chuckling at the child-like enthusiasm
David exhibited.  Erestor followed the human up the flights of stairs
toward his apartment.  It had been a week since he had share his blood
with the Man, and the effects had worn off a few days ago.  It had
given the mortal some perspective, and Erestor found that they were
all much happier, much more at ease with one another.

Even Maglor had been enjoyable company when in David's presence.

The trio entered the apartment.  "Have a seat," David said as he
flipped through the bundle of mail waiting for him.  "I'll be right
back."

Erestor watched David disappear into the bedroom where they had first
taken him.  He smirked at the memory and turned his sparkling eyes to
Maglor.

"You seem happy, melethen," Maglor said, his lips in a grim line.

"Yes, I am," Erestor said.  "Why do you not like that?"

Maglor shrugged.  "Perhaps I am jealous that he could bring you
happiness when I could not."

Erestor leaned in and kissed Maglor softly.  "If I had not been happy
with you, Maglor, I would have died long ago."  He smiled up at Maglor
until the elder vampire's lips curved up as well.

"What a lovely sight."

The two vampires parted, their heads turning to the front door.  Four
men stood, all of varying ages, height and weight.  But, just looking
at them, Erestor knew who they were.  Or rather, he knew who David's
father was, and could guess at the rest.  In person, the man looked
even more imposingly like Elessar.  Or maybe it was just the longsword
he held at his side.

Erestor sighed.  "I told you this was a bad idea."

"No one likes a know-it-all, Vincent," Maglor said, rolling his eyes.

Erestor addressed the group.  "You must be Graham.  So nice to meet
you; we've heard so much about you.  And you must be Terry.  The
resemblance is unmistakable.  But I am afraid I haven't had the
pleasure of being introduced to you two gentlemen."

David stepped out from the bedroom.  "That is Michael, and the young
one is Eric."

"Ah, yes," Erestor replied.  "Of course."

"And we know who you are, demon," Michael said.  "You with your vile,
contemptible appetites corrupting and perverting our children!"

"I didn't realize that drinking blood had become such a fad among
teens," Maglor said blankly.

"I think he means the homosexuality, Marcus," Erestor muttered.

"Oh, but of course.  Because before we came along, same-sex relations
did not exist, and would never have come into being without us."

"Besides," David said, half to himself, "in your child's case, you've
done quite a good job of corruption and perversion yourself without
any help from them."

Maglor looked at David over his shoulder.  "Well, you would know
better than I, I supp--"  He broke off in mid-sentence.  David's eyes
were enormous and staring at something behind him.  Maglor turned his
head back and saw Eric standing just in front of him.  The boy's arms
were outstretched toward Maglor.  Looking down, the vampire saw why.
At the other end of the arms was a sizable wooden stake, the point of
which was currently embedded in Maglor's chest.

"This shirt," he said very slowly, "cost me three hundred dollars."
Maglor's hands flew up, grabbing Eric by the chin and hair, and
twisted sharply.  The crack of the young boy's neck breaking echoed
through the room.  Eric's lifeless body fell to the floor, the glassy
eyes staring at nothing.

The ancient vampire stared coldly at the remaining three faces.  "I
have survived war, famine, plague, burning, hanging, and only very
narrowly avoided crucifixion.  I have survived death such as you
cannot imagine.  And you think I can be harmed by a little piece of
wood?"

"Perhaps not," Graham said, narrowing his eyes.  "But I'll just bet
that taking your head off will do the trick."  He raised the sword as
Terry drew a pair of daggers and Michael pulled a rapier from the head
of his cane.  Maglor stared at the cold steel blades and had second
thoughts about removing the stake.  It was doing far less damage than
those could.

David rushed forward, between Erestor and Maglor.  "All right, that's
enough!  What happened to 'observation without interference', Dad?"

"*They* have interfered, David!" Graham hissed.

"No, they have not!  I went to *them*, remember?  I am no longer part
of your little coterie, thanks to you, so you cannot even say that
they have affected any of you.  And had Eric had the sense God gave
little green frogs, he'd still be alive, too!  Now, dammit, I am your
son and these are my lovers.  They are good people who just want to be
left alone!"

"They are not people!" barked Terry.  "They are vampires!  They have
killed hundreds of people to feed their demonic lusts!"

"Actually," Erestor interrupted casually, "I expect it's more like
thousands.  I have to say I've lost count, though."

Maglor nodded, the stake still jammed in his chest.  "I'd go along
with that, yeah."

"The arrogance before God!" Graham cried out.  "You are not my son!
You are one of them now.  My son is dead!"

Erestor took a small step forward.  "Then it's done.  Just walk away.
This city was getting boring anyway.  We will leave; you will stay,
and there's an end.  I know more about your family than you think I
do, more than you probably know yourself, and believe me when I say
that I do not want to harm you."

Graham swung his sword high, bearing down on Erestor.  The vampire
brought both his hands up and clapped them on either side of the flat
of the blade, trapping it and stopping the strike.  Erestor sighed
again -- why were mortals always so depressingly stupid? -- and lashed
out with a vicious kick to Graham's chest.  The force of the blow sent
the Man sprawling back, ripping the sword from his grasp.  Graham
collided against the wall with a hollow thud and slumped to the floor,
wounded, but still breathing.

"I said I didn't want to, not that I wouldn't," Erestor said to the
unconscious form.

The absurdity of the situation finally overwhelmed David.  Maglor
stood with a sharpened stick in his chest, Erestor was holding a sword
by the blade, and Terry and Michael were stupid enough to advance on
them.  Fully aware of the vampires' ability to take care of
themselves, David obligingly dropped back into the room and continued
to sort through his belongings.

Michael brandished the rapier in front of him as he closed with
Erestor, while Terry clanged his daggers together and scowled at
Maglor.  "I will send you back to Hell, demon spawn," Terry spat.

"You know nothing of Hell," Maglor countered.  "I once sat through an
entire dress rehearsal of Cats."

Michael thrust forward with the rapier.  Erestor shifted his hands
against the blade he held, swinging the hilt to the side and parrying
the blow.  Then, while Michael's body was unblocked, Erestor dropped
the sword.  The hilt fell heavily onto Michael's foot, causing him to
yelp.  He took his eyes off of Erestor for an instant, and Erestor
struck.  He grabbed Michael's wrist with one hand and clasped his
other hand around the older man's throat.  Lifting him easily, Erestor
walked forward and slammed Michael against the wall.

"You," Erestor said as he squeezed off Michael's air supply, "mean
nothing to me, though.  You should never have involved yourself in
matters that do not concern you.  Now it is too late for you, meldir."
Michael's struggles slowly ebbed, and then stopped completely.
Erestor released the body, and it crumpled to the ground.

Maglor, meanwhile, was still dealing with Terry.  The mortal had
managed to open several cuts on the vampire's arms.  Being made by a
weapon of cold steel, they were painful and would be slow to heal.
Maglor had struck out several times, but the Man had been quick enough
to evade.  Terry was of the same bloodline as David and Graham, of
course, and even the tiniest trickle of Númenorean heritage gave him
speed and agility in battle to surpass almost any other human.  Had
Maglor's heart been exposed, Terry surely would have struck it by now.

Erestor leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.  "Looks
like you've got your hands full there, Marcus.  Need any help?"

"Does it look like I need help?" Maglor shouted back as he blocked
another strike with his forearm and felt the blade cut again into his
skin.  "No, it does not!  I am fine, thank you very much.  When I need
your help, I'll ask for it!"

"Okay, then.  Just let me know."  Erestor yawned and began to clean
under his nails.

Maglor turned his full attention back to the fight at hand.  "Come on,
Terry.  What do you say we call it a draw and go get a beer?  I'm
buying."

"Go to Hell, faggot," Terry spat.

"See, now that's just uncalled for.  And it makes no sense.  I mean,
why would you call a homosexual a bundle of sticks?"

David looked up from his packing.  "One theory is that it comes from
the burning of gays during the Holocaust.  It was said that when they
went onto the fire, they lit up just like a dry faggot."

"I didn't know that," Maglor said.  "Did you know that, Terry?  That's
really interesting.  Let's go have a pint and we can talk about it."

Terry grunted and feinted to the left.  Maglor raised his arm to
block, but Terry shifted quickly and drove one of the daggers deep
into the vampire's stomach.

The pain screamed through Maglor's body like fire.  He staggered
backward against a chair, leaning against it for support.  "Shit," he
gasped.  "That one's going to leave a mark."  Then he slipped from the
chair and fell onto his back.

Erestor jumped up, but Maglor weakly held up a hand.  "Don't you touch
him, Vincent.  I have the situation completely under control."

Terry stood over Maglor's prone form, sneering.  "I see.  That one
hurt you, did it?  I wonder what one of these would do in your black
heart?"  He reached down to pull out the stake, but it held fast in
the wound.  He stepped one foot onto Maglor's chest to brace, and
pulled with both hands.

Maglor shook his head.  Idiot.  He grabbed the handle of the knife in
his stomach and, in one smooth motion, tore it from his skin and
thrust it brutally upwards into the inside of the exposed thigh.  By
the time Terry started to scream, Maglor had twisted the knife and
pulled it downward, ripping the femoral artery open all the way to the
knee.  Terry lurched away unsteadily, tripping over Eric's body and
collapsing in a bleeding heap.

"Should have just had a pint with me," were the last words he heard.

"Fuck, Maglor, you think you could have made a bigger mess?" Erestor
said angrily.  In truth, he was relieved, but furious at Maglor for
making him worry.

"Yeah, Maglor.  This is my *home*, after all," David said.  "Now I'm
never going to get my security deposit back.  Do you know how hard it
is to get blood out of carpet?"

"Well, he pissed me off!" Maglor said in a huff.  "That fucking hurt!"

Erestor rolled his eyes.  "I could have helped."

"I told you, I had it under control!  I was just letting him wear
himself down.  It was the old rope-a-dope, dumbass."

"Which one of you was the dope, I wonder?"

Maglor was about to retort when the sound of movement caught
everyone's attention.  Graham was beginning to stir.

"At least I killed my two, Erestor!" Maglor taunted.

"Yes, but at least I'm not covered in blood."

"Most of this isn't mine!  Valar!" the elder Noldo scoffed, grunting
as he finally yanked the stake out of his chest.  The sucking wound
closed quickly once the makeshift weapon was removed, but some blood
still seeped onto his shirt.  "Dammit, I'll never get this shirt
clean."

Erestor snorted.  "I think the blood is the least of your problems."

"Maybe I can just return it?" Maglor said hopefully.

"You monsters!" cried Graham as he pulled himself to his feet and
surveyed the damage.

Erestor held up a hand to Maglor.  "Hold that thought."  He then
turned and stalked toward Graham.  "Let me get this straight.  You
barge in to someone else's home, uninvited.  You draw lethal weapons
and threaten to kill two people who have never done anything to you or
anyone you care about.  You disown your own son because he had the
unmitigated balls to stand up to you.  And *we* are the monsters,
simply because we had the gall to not die?  I think your last few
seconds should be spent trying to think up a reason why I shouldn't
kill you."

"Because he's my father, Vincent, and I am asking you not to."  David
ran to Erestor and put a hand on his shoulder.  "No matter what else
is true, no matter how big an asshole he's been, he's still my father.
Just let him go.  We'll go back to his house and destroy all the notes
and the histories.  He won't be able to follow you without Michael's
money funding him anymore.  Just let it be over, Vincent.  Please."

Maglor limped across the room.  "Don't listen to him, Erestor.  Right
now, he is weak.  Destroy him now, or he'll only return stronger.
He's a leader of Men, Erestor; don't forget.  He'll bring others to
his cause, others to fund him and to move against us.  He was only
curious before, but now he has too much reason to hate.  We'll never
be safe as long as he lives."

Graham coughed and turned wild eyes to David.  "David, don't let them
kill me.  David, my son, please, help me," he pleaded.

"Now I'm your son again?" David said acidly.  "I have asked for your
life, which is more than I am convinced you deserve.  But I owed you
that much.  Now it is no longer my choice."

The fear in Graham's eyes shifted instantly to hatred.  "You
ungrateful son of a bitch!"

Maglor sensed more than saw the motion.  His senses were still acute
from the fight with Terry, which was more taxing than he would ever
admit, to the point where he was almost psychic.  There was a minute
shift of Graham's hand, and a barely audible click followed by a
rustle of something against his sleeve.  The vampire was already in
motion before the wrist-loaded dagger had emerged from the sheath.  He
shoved his way between Erestor and David and grabbed David by the
shoulders, pushing him back out of the way as Graham thrust the blade
forward.  He could not get clear in time, though, and the point
pierced Maglor's back, near his kidney, until it was buried to the
hilt.

"Goddammit, that's twice!" Maglor screamed.  "What do I look like to
you people, a fucking pincushion?"

Erestor grabbed the outstretched arm and punched into the elbow,
shattering the joint without a second thought.  Graham clutched at the
destroyed bone with his other arm and slid down the wall, whimpering
in pain.

"Don't kill him, please!" David yelled over Maglor's shoulder.

"Oh, I won't kill him," Erestor said in a sinister voice.  "I just
don't think he'll be able to follow us as easily once he's a quadruple
amputee."

Maglor gingerly touched the dagger in his back and winced again, his
face twisted into a pained snarl.  "Wait, Erestor," he managed to say.
"I have a better idea.  If you only break the body, he will still be
who he is, and even if he cannot come himself, he will send others for
us.  But if we break the mind..."

Erestor looked to David.  "What do you say, David?  He will be barely
recognizable as your father, but he will live."

David sighed heavily and chose his words carefully.  "Considering some
of the things he has done, said, and believed, it is hard to believe
that anything you would do would be anything but an improvement."

"Very well.  Maglor, are you strong enough to do this?  I may be able
to read better than you, but you were always more capable at
manipulation."

"I may not be good for much once I'm done, but I can take care of
this, yes," Maglor replied.  He drew the blade out of his back and
dropped it on the floor.  He limped over to Graham and knelt down
beside him, holding him by the chin and staring into his eyes.

"I know how to do this painlessly," he explained to the fearful,
red-rimmed eyes, "but in your case, I think I'll forget that little
detail."  Maglor focused his power and plunged into the mortal's mind.

Graham screamed once, and then never spoke again.

TBC...

Chapter Eighteen

Seattle, 2005

David put the flowers in the bright cobalt vase, smiling at the man
sitting quietly on the bed.  Graham Selman's eyes were vacant as he
stared ahead, not seeing the scenery outside his window or his son who
crouched in front of him.  His wife and son had sadly placed him into
the convalescent home after the 'accident', and visited him every
Sunday after church.  Some days there was a glimmer of recognition in
the older man's eyes, but today, he was somewhere else.

"Dad," David said softly, smiling up at his father.  "Dad, I came to
say goodbye," David continued.  "It's been a year, hasn't it?  I am
just as happy now as I was then with Vincent and Marcus, Dad.  They
love me, and I love them."  David stood up.  "We are leaving Seattle.
Actually, we're leaving the country.  Vincent says he would like to
see my hair in the Venetian sun, so we have booked a flight to Italy."

Graham's eye twitched, and he focused on David, though his expression
remained that of sweet befuddlement.  David sighed.  "It didn't have
to be this way, but you wouldn't let us go.  You never could let go,
Dad.  The investigation about the house fire is complete, and we have
been given clearance to leave, which we will do in three days.  I
wanted to say that I am sorry, but I will not regret what happened.
They are free.

"I am free," David finished in a whisper.  He blinked back tears and
bent down, placing a light kiss on his father's warm, dry cheek.  "I
love you, Dad.  I just wish you could have loved me."

David quickly walked from the room, missing the slow trickle a tear
made as it slid down Graham's cheek.

*****

David gazed out over the Grande Canal, smelling the sweet scent of
water on the breeze.  He didn't even want to think about how much
money it had cost Maglor and Erestor to secure such a lavish room so
near the canal.  He sighed, thinking back once more on the last year.

After Maglor had taken Graham's mind, David had said they would have
trouble now that they had the silent man and his three dead companions
littering his apartment.  Luckily, Erestor and Maglor had extensive
experience with disposing of bodies, and assured him it would not be a
problem.  First, they drained as much of Michael and Eric's blood as
they could -- not an easy task without a beating heart to move the
blood.  In the end, it had required a funnel, some rubber tubing, and
gravity to accomplish the feat.  Then Maglor had searched the
apartment building for other signs of life.  Since it was in the
middle of a workday, there were only two other people home in the
small building.

While Maglor sought out the two other tenants, Erestor wrapped himself
in a sheet and got to work on the bodies with a set of butcher knives
from David's kitchen and a box of heavy contractor trash bags.  With
very little blood in any of the bodies, the job was relatively clean.
While Graham watched in eerie silence, Erestor efficiently distributed
the three corpses among four bags, stuffing the sheet into the last
one.  Maglor returned from having "coaxed" the elderly couple in the
downstairs apartment that they had heard nothing and that a nice long
nap sounded like a wonderful idea.  While the two vampires lugged the
heavy bags down to the trunk of their car, David -- coached by Maglor
-- called the police.

Erestor drove away with the catatonic Graham, leaving David and Maglor
in the apartment.  When the police arrived, Maglor clouded their minds
to his presence.  They listened impassively to David recounting the
story they'd rehearsed; that he was planning to go away with his male
lover, who was supposed to be here packing.  When he arrived after
walking home from work, he'd found the door forced open, this gigantic
bloodstain on the floor, and no sign of his lover.  The officers were
predictably homophobic, Maglor found as he peered into their thoughts.
They assured David that they would do everything possible, while
secretly not caring about one less queer in the world.  One small
mental push by Maglor convinced the officers that David had an
ironclad alibi and was not to be considered a suspect, and yes, he was
free to go.

After the police left, Erestor brought the car back around, and Maglor
and David got in and drove to the massive house that Michael, Eric,
Terry, and Graham had been using as a base of operations.  The
vampires emptied the contents of the trash bags in the extensive
records room, and then set the room ablaze.  David pulled Johnathan
Selman's journal out of a safe behind a portrait and tossed it
unceremoniously into the fire.

By the time the fire department arrived, the house was fully engulfed
in flame, and the only witness appeared to be Graham, wandering around
outside in a state of catatonic shock.  The final report (as helped
along with mental suggestions from Maglor and Erestor) was that the
house had caught on fire with three people trapped in the library, and
Graham had gone insane trying to get them out and listening to them
burn to death.

And then, a year later, once all the investigations had been
concluded, Erestor had booked their flight to Italy, hustling David
out of the country as soon as he could.  That world seemed a lifetime
away now, David thought as he breathed deeply again.  He closed his
eyes and smiled as long, strong arms wrapped around his waist from
behind.  Maglor's spicy soap invaded David's senses, and he leaned
back into the embrace.

"You seem a thousand miles away," Maglor said hotly against David's
ear.

"Good thing you are both here to bring me back," David replied, his
voice breathless to his own ears.

Erestor leaned against the railing, admiring his two lovers.  "I would
suggest we go for a trip along the canal, but every time we turn west,
it rains.  I think we should simply avoid water as often as we can."

Maglor chuckled.  "*Now* he figures it out."

David laughed as he turned in Maglor's arms, lifting his lips to
Maglor's for a kiss.  He could feel Erestor's hot gaze on them as they
kissed, watching where their lips met and tongues danced.

"We can't stay out here," Erestor said, and his voice was rough with
need.  "Inside.  Now," he growled, pulling at Maglor's shirt.

They stripped their clothing quickly, falling onto the vast bed in a
tangle of arms and sucking sounds.  David never felt as wanted as he
did when he was between the two Elven vampires; their desire for him
never waned, and they could take him to heights of pleasure he had
never imagined.  He was laid on his back, Maglor settling between his
thighs, and Erestor's head hovering above his throbbing length.  This
was also something they did.  Neither enjoyed hours of foreplay; they
wanted to feel his body writhe under their hands.

As Erestor's lips surrounded David's aching cock, Maglor thrust into
the Man's tight heat.  David cried out, arching into Maglor's thrust
and sinking his length deeper into Erestor's throat.  They moved in
tandem.  As Maglor's length pierced him, Erestor would swallow him to
the hilt.  He saw bright colors and his muscles trembled as he drew
close to orgasm.  He felt Erestor's hands wrap around his tight sac,
squeezing the base of his cock and the tight muscles just under his
pouch.  Erestor's mouth continued to suck on him, and Maglor's
enthusiastic thrusts pushed him over the edge.

That hand gripped him tighter, and David shook with orgasm, Erestor's
mouth moving over his burning length.  His body tightened around
Maglor and the Elf groaned deep in his throat.  The warmth of the
elder vampire's seed spread inside his passage, and David gasped as
Maglor continued to push inside him.  Erestor released David's shaft
and sac, and David realized he was still so aroused he ached for
release.  He looked down into Erestor's grinning face, and then to his
still-erect shaft.

"What," he panted, "have you done?"

Maglor slipped from his throbbing backside.  "We are not done with
you, lover.  We have gone so very easy on you this past year, it is
time for you to learn just a fraction of our stamina," Maglor said
evilly.

David watched with dazed eyes as Erestor and Maglor exchanged places.
His eyes focused on Erestor's cock as the vampire grasped his hips,
settling him over his thighs.  His entrance was already sensitive and
sore, but Erestor did not pause and entered him in one swift push.
David felt tears spring into his eyes as pain shot through him, but
the way was already slick with lubrication and semen.

Maglor's face hovered above his for a moment.  "Are you pained, dear
David?" he asked, his fangs peeking from between his lips.  "Did I use
you too roughly?"

It was a sweet pain, one that enflamed his arousal, and David knew it
was because Maglor was exerting some of his mental power on him.  He
was dampening that sharp pain, bringing the pleasure to the forefront,
and David welcomed the gesture.  He moaned, his mind slowly drowning
in a sea of desire.

Erestor glided smoothly in and out of his passage, and David was
helpless to the sensations rolling through him.  Maglor nipped and
suckled at David's nipples until the Man sobbed in sweet agony.  The
elder vampire's hand slid down to cup him in the same manner Erestor's
had, and Erestor increased the power behind his thrusting.  With his
seed trapped by Maglor's hand, Maglor bent down, sinking his fangs
into David's throat.

David bucked up, slamming himself against Erestor as his orgasm swept
through him a second time.  Maglor's mind, heady with sex, invaded
his.  He knew instantly how hard Maglor was already, and could glimpse
the tortures his body would endure at the vampire's hands long before
he would be given that final climax.  Tears of frustration slipped
down his cheeks as he felt Erestor's essence mingle with Maglor's
inside him.  Once Maglor had released his neck and his body, David
shook with barely contained sexual need.  His body quivered in a fever
of arousal, and David prayed that it both ended and continued forever.

Maglor's eyes raked over the Man's body.  Seed trickled from between
the crevice of his backside, causing Maglor's shaft to pulse.  David's
skin was flushed and slick with sweat.  His cock rested heavily on his
belly, so engorged that its color was deep plum, and it wept its clear
juices continuously.  He could sense that David's mind was lost in the
storm of their lust, and he licked the remaining blood from his lips.
The Man was delicious and strong and like nothing Maglor had ever seen
in all his many years.

He took a moment to wipe himself with a damp washcloth, cleaning away
semen and lubricant.  He tossed the cloth aside and moved to prop
David's head on the three thick pillows that littered their bed.
Erestor panted as he watched Maglor then straddle David's chest,
feeding his thick shaft to the Man.  Erestor shuddered, his arousal
reawakening.  He saw the slick flesh move between those swollen, red
lips, and David's glazed hazel eyes stared up at Maglor with
adoration.  Erestor stretched out on the mattress between David's
legs, guiding them over his shoulders.  He snaked his tongue out,
running the wet, hot muscle over David's abused opening.  He tasted
the bitterness of seed, but it was a welcome flavor he savored as he
thrust his tongue into David's body.

David whimpered around Maglor's length, his jaw aching, his throat
sore, and backside once again spread open.  As he swallowed Maglor's
cock over and over, he rode Erestor's tongue; his length throbbed
incessantly, and he fisted his hands into the sheets to stop himself
from reaching for his shaft and stroking it.  He focused on Maglor's
face instead.  The pale flesh was bright with blood, his lips parted
and glistening.  His head was thrown back, his dark hair cascading
down his back in a black waterfall.  Maglor was dark beauty, and it
made David's heart ache with the love he felt for the vampire.

Erestor left David's passage, nuzzling the soft flesh of David's inner
thigh.  He used his hand to stop David's seed from coming forth as he
bit deeply into the Man's thigh.  He had found that, from the simple
act of their bite, David could quickly find release.  As he drank from
the human, merging their minds as Maglor had earlier, David's body
quaked with orgasm.  Erestor knew the climaxes he found in this manner
were enjoyable, but they were also somewhat hollow.  There was an
unsatisfied twinge left in their wake, which made one desire
completion even more.

Maglor saw David's eyes flutter and felt the Man's body tremble under
him.  The waves of arousal beat against him, both his own, Erestor's
and David's, and Maglor spilled himself down David's throat, closing
his eyes as David's drank all he had to give.  This one was special.
Maglor had not admitted it, and he was not sure he ever would, but he
did love the human.  Damn him, he loved David.

Maglor moved off of David's chest, and the two vampires allowed David
a moment to catch his breath.

"Please," David sobbed, squirming as Erestor slithered up his body.
"Please."  The tears would not stop, and his body was tight as a
bowstring.  He needed to come, and he was not beneath begging his
lovers to give that to him.

Erestor ran his tongue over David's bottom lip, tasting Maglor's
essence on it.  "You want something, David?" he purred, his body hard
and ready again.  David's lower body was lifted, and Erestor knew
Maglor was placing a pillow under David's buttocks.

After the pillow was in place, David felt his legs pressed forward,
but not far.  Then there was the nudging of the blunt, rounded head of
Maglor's arousal.  David whimpered, looking up into Erestor's dark
gaze.  "Please, no," he whispered.

"Oh, David, David, my poor David," Erestor cooed.  "Be a good boy and
enjoy what we do."  Erestor felt David's body arc under his weight as
Maglor penetrated him again.

The rhythm was slow, gentle and tender, but it did not change the fact
that his backside *hurt*, that his cock *hurt*.  He cried openly,
sobbing with pained need.  Because his vision was so blurred by his
tears and all his attention was focused on the shaft piercing him, he
did not see Erestor slip a lubricated finger into his own passage.
What he did feel, though, was the cold gel as it was smeared on his
length.

As Maglor continued to thrust into David's body, Erestor mounted the
Man, guiding the searing, over-engorged organ into him.  He groaned as
he sat down, watching David's face as he slowly rocked against him.
David had never asked to take Maglor or Erestor, but Erestor had
wanted to feel the man inside him.  This was the perfect opportunity.

Maglor reached around Erestor's waist and grasped the younger
vampire's erection.  Thrusting, grinding, and stroking.  It did not
take long before David screamed his release.  There was no other word
for what the Man did.  He screamed as his seed exploded from his
frustrated body, pumping deep into Erestor.  Erestor's head fell back
onto Maglor's shoulder as his orgasm shuddered through him, and
David's clenching body dragged Maglor behind them.

In the warm summer heat, the three bodies separated, and David gave a
wordless complaint as he shifted between the two vampires.  His body
burned.  His backside ached terribly and his sac was so tender he
wondered if he would ever come again.  "You two," he said, his voice
rough from use, "are a menace."

Erestor chuckled, kissing David's shoulder and hugging him close,
nestling his spent member in the cleft of David's buttocks.  "Did you
not like it?"  Erestor watched David snuggle against Maglor's chest,
their hands lacing between them.  Erestor smiled, pleased to see the
affection between his lovers.  It was finally more than just sex for
Maglor, and the younger vampire was relieved by this development.

David's head swam with exhaustion as he spoke.  "Ask me tomorrow when
I try to stand," he managed before sleep claimed him.

TBC...

Chapter Nineteen

Prague, 2011

David sat in the plush armchair, flipping through the pages of a very
thick scrapbook.  It had been six years since he had left the United
Sates.  Seven years since meeting the vampires.

The pictures in the scrapbook showed various travels the threesome had
taken.  Erestor wanted to show David the world, so long as they always
moved east.  So, they had traveled to China, Russia, and Japan; David
had seen great monuments, stood on holy ground, and walk paths he had
never dreamed he would walk.

And at every turn, Maglor and Erestor had been with him.  They had
delighted in his youthful exuberance.  The vampires loved to spoil
him, to show him off wherever they went.  David had never felt as
happy and content as he did with them, and he hope that an end never
came to that bliss.

Six month ago, Erestor had asked to go to Prague.  After sharing that
moment with David in the quiet of Erestor and Maglor's apartment where
David had tasted Erestor's blood, Erestor had told David the story of
Glorfindel.  David had known some of it from that merging of their
beings, but the whole story had torn at David's heart.  To see
Erestor's tears, to feel such loss and yearning was more than David
could handle.  He had been ill for days with depression, and when
Erestor had asked to return to the last city he and Glorfindel had
been happy in, neither David nor Maglor could refuse him.

A knocking sound shook David from his memories.  He stood up, puzzled,
and walked to the door.  They weren't expecting anyone, and people
rarely dropped by this far off the main road.  He opened the door, and
his mouth fell open.  Even if the man were not wearing a pure white
riding cloak and carrying a tall white staff, David would have
recognized him.  "Hey, guys," he called back over his shoulder,
"there's a wizard here to see you."

"Greetings," said Gandalf the White.

David opened his mouth to respond, but the only thing that came out
was "Guh--" before he passed out.

Gandalf looked down at the prone form.  "Hmm.  What a curious custom.
A pleasure to meet you, too, young sir," he called down to David, and
then let his eyes roll back in his head and his legs wobble out from
under him in a perfect imitation of David's faint.

Maglor and Erestor ran into the room and found the two figures lying
on the ground.  Erestor ran quickly to David, patting his face and
trying to coax him awake.  Maglor, meanwhile, walked over to Gandalf
and looked down at him with a heavy sigh.

"Get up, old man," the elder Noldo teased, nudging Gandalf's foot with
his toe.

"I was merely trying to be polite," Gandalf huffed up at him from the
floor.

Erestor scoffed as he picked David up from the floor.  "Next time, try
flowers."

*****

Erestor closed the door to their room, leaving David in the peaceful
gloom of the bedroom.  This seemed to be a terrible habit of David's;
the mortal had not fainted in many years, but the sight of Gandalf
seemed enough to reawake those habits of his.  He joined Maglor on the
sofa, staring at Gandalf from across the room.

"You have a human lover?" Gandalf asked Erestor.

"No," Erestor said.  "*We* have a human lover.  And his name is
David."

Gandalf sipped the tea Maglor had made him.  "What do you plan on
doing with him?  He will age, you will not."

Maglor seemed to bristle at Gandalf's tone.  "Do with him?  He is our
partner, our lover, and whatever we do, we do together."

"Be that as it may, he will still grow old and die."  Gandalf put his
tea aside.

Erestor chose to ignore Gandalf's comments about David.  "What I want
to know, Wizard, is what you are doing here?"

"I come on behalf of the Valar," Gandalf said, meeting Erestor's
steady gaze.  "They have decreed you may come home."

The room was silent except for the occasional crackle or pop in the
hearth.  It was Maglor who found his voice first.

"Home... to what?" he asked hesitantly.

"Home.  Aman.  Valinor," Gandalf said slowly, as if speaking to
idiots.

Erestor glared at Gandalf.  "Not *where*, you senile old fool, but to
*what*?"

The Maia's gaze was cold, but before he could say anything, Maglor
tried to diffuse the situation.

"Home to eternal bodiless torment in the Halls of Mandos?  Home to an
even worse sentence than this bloody half-life?  Have the Valar
decided we're enjoying ourselves too much, that we have found some
measure of happiness that they wish to snatch from us?" he asked, his
voice quickly gaining an edge with each word.  "Tell us, Gandalf, what
fate are we to now endure?"

"You do not have to return with me.  But, heed me, this will be your
only chance of returning to the Blessed Realm.  The opportunity will
never again arise for you to leave this time, this world.  I cannot
tell you what awaits you in Aman for you.  I do not know.  I have been
told to come to you, offer you this chance, but I cannot force you to
join me."  Gandalf smiled sadly.  "But, I do know there are many who
were most pleased to hear that the Valar would extend this invitation
to you both."

Erestor paled.  "Glorfindel," he whispered.

"Your love still waits for you, yes," Gandalf confided.  "He bears
your ring, does he not?" the wizard asked, smiling wistfully.

Both Erestor and Maglor's gazes went to the golden ring Erestor wore
on his left ring finger.  It was the only piece of jewelry he wore,
and it had not been removed from his hand in almost eight years.
While Glorfindel wore Erestor's mark, Erestor wore Glorfindel's.

"Has he taken a lover?"  Erestor did not want to know if any other had
touched his beloved, but there was a sick curiosity he had to satisfy.

Gandalf shook his head.  "Golden Glorfindel is chaste."

Guilt shot through Erestor.  While Glorfindel had waited for him,
Erestor had partaken of hundreds of lovers.  Had even dared to love
one of them.  During the years he had lived with Glorfindel, he had
not shared his body with anyone but the golden Elf.  As soon as
Glorfindel sailed, though, he had returned to the warmth of Maglor's
bed and a never-ending stream of willing bodies.

He was ashamed.

"I cannot return," he choked out, shaking his head.  He stood up and
fled the room, closing the door behind him as he entered the gloom of
their bedroom.  David lay sleeping quietly, the gentle breathing
soothing Erestor's troubled soul.

Soul.  Ha.  Did he even have one of those?  With his back braced
against the door, he slid to the floor, burying his face in his hands.
Oh, to go back, to know Glorfindel's love and touch once more.  But,
to do so would mean admitting his sins... as well as leaving his dear
David behind.

Could he truly do that?

*****

His eyes were dry.  They itched.  But still he stared at the horizon.
The sun was rising over the city, and Erestor had spent the night on
the balcony outside their bedroom.  David had not stirred, and Maglor
had not come to him.  Alone with his guilt, Erestor had retreated to
the balcony to sob freely.

"Erestor?"

Erestor looked up at Maglor's tall form towering over him.  "Yes?"

Maglor sat down beside him, the first rays of light kissing their
faces.  "Gandalf is not leaving yet.  We have time to decide," he said
quietly.

"There is nothing to decide," Erestor replied tiredly.

"Erestor, for a moment, pretend there is no David.  Ah, just pretend,"
he said when Erestor tried to protest.  "Would you still refuse to
return with Gandalf?"

The younger vampire thought until the sun was bright in the morning
sky.  "No, I would return.  I want to see Glorfindel again."

"And I would give my life to just *glimpse* Maedhros once more.  I
will go with Gandalf.  Please, come with us.  I love you, Erestor.  I
have for so long, and it would break my heart to gain Aman only to
lose you in the process."  Maglor held Erestor's hand in his, kissing
each fingertip.

Erestor's filled with tears once more.  "But I cannot forget him,
Maglor.  I love him, just as I love you."

"You would sacrifice Aman for him?  You would sacrifice me,
Glorfindel, for him?" Maglor asked.

"Do you not care, Maglor?  Are you still just as cold and jealous of
him as you were when I brought him home?"  Erestor gripped Maglor's
hand tightly.

Maglor lifted his head, and Erestor saw the shimmer of tears.  "I love
him, Erestor.  But, he is human.  He will die.  And we will be left
alone again."

"Do not stay because of me," David said from behind them, his voice
trembling as he spoke.

Both vampires turned to the Man, their eyes wide and full of shame at
being caught speaking about him.

"David," Maglor tried, but David shook his head.

"No, do not try and justify your reasons," he said as tears traced
salty tracks down his cheeks.  "You should go home."

Maglor stood, taking David into his arms.  "We could ease your
heartbreak," he whispered.  "I could take the memories from you."

David pulled away at the same time Erestor cried out.  "No!" David
yelled angrily.  "They are my memories, and they are all that will
ease my heartbreak!"

The three lovers wept openly, embracing each other tightly.

"We would never take your memories," Erestor said, kissing David's
lips.  "Never.  They are yours."

David clung to them, some part of him dying inthe wake of this news.
He would lose them.  Forever.  It would not be him leaving them
behind; they were leaving him.  Oh, how his chest hurt!  The words his
lovers whispered to him did nothing to soothe his pain, and he soon
sobbed himself into a restless slumber in Maglor's arms.

The Elves tucked him into bed, each wiping at their tears.

"We cannot leave him," Maglor said, his voice full of determination.

Erestor nodded.  "No, we can't."

"There is only one choice," Maglor sighed.

Again, Erestor nodded.  "He will simply have to come with us."

TBC...

Chapter Twenty

Brest, France, 2011

"Gandalf!  Be reasonable!" Erestor cried.

The Maia looked up at the irate vampire from his position on the
loveseat beside Maglor.  "My dear boy, I am never anything else."

Maglor shook his head.  This was a never-ending argument.  It had
begun in Prague, and was carried on through their travels to Brest.
Erestor and Maglor fought to bring David with them to Aman, and
Gandalf continued to say it was an impossibility.

The Fëanorion knew better, though.  It was possible.

"He is of Men," Gandalf continued.

Erestor shook his head.  "He is a descendent of Elessar, Gandalf.  He
is a Númenorean!  He is no mere Man!"  Erestor's voice was rising, his
anger beginning to surface.  It was one thing for the younger Noldo to
be irritated, it was another when he became angry.

Gandalf held out his hand.  "That, my boy, is precisely my point!  The
Valar have banned the travel of the Númenoreans to Aman.  They had
very good cause at the time, and they see no reason to amend that
decision!"  Gandalf managed to be intimidating in a pair of jeans and
one of Maglor's old t-shirts that said 'It's only kinky the first
time'.  David had found it immensely amusing when the Wizard appeared
wearing the shirt.

Gandalf still didn't know what 'kinky' meant.  Which was probably just
as well, Maglor mused as the argument raged on.

"And how many Númenoreans have sought entrance to Aman recently?"
Erestor demanded as he glared down at Gandalf.

"Time is running out, Erestor.  The ship will depart without us.  The
time for debate is over."  Gandalf's eyes narrowed, and his voice
darkened.  "He will sail with us in two days' time, but understand
this: If the Valar do not want him in the Blessed Realm, there is no
sending him back."

Erestor crossed his arms, turning his gaze to David's wide eyes.  "Do
you agree to risk it, melethron?" he asked.  "Will you sail with us in
the hopes that the Valar will permit you entrance and not send your
soul on to where the souls of Men reside?"

Maglor felt David's body tense between his legs.  The Man had been
seated on the floor, nestled safely between Maglor's thighs with his
head resting on the elder vampire's knee.  Maglor ran his fingers
through David's thick hair, which the mortal had permitted to grow
long over the passing years.  There was a soft wave to the honey
locks, and Maglor never tired of touching them.  "David," he said
softly, and the Man looked up at him.  "You can tell us no.  You can
stay here when we leave."

"My choices," David said slowly, "are stay here without you, or sail
with the *chance* of having you."  His hazel eyes were so warm as he
gazed up at the grey-eyed vampire; love shown in their depths.  "If I
remain here, I will be alone and will eventually die.  But, I will
live and die without either of you at my side.  My mother and sisters
are lost without my father, and they have cut me from their lives.  I
am nothing but a fag to them.  I have given up all I had in order to
be at your sides.  I would give up my life if it gave me just a
fraction of an hour longer."

Erestor was kneeling beside David on the floor in a blur of motion
David didn't even see.  One moment Erestor was across the room, the
next those dark eyes were in front of his.  Erestor's arms slipped
around him, drawing him into an embrace between Maglor's legs.  There
was a sense of relief among the three lovers as Gandalf stood with a
sigh, shaking his head as he left the room.

*****

Erestor and Maglor were not surprised to see the grey ship.  "Has
Círdan been floating here for the past month, Gandalf?" Erestor asked,
setting down David's suitcase.  The Man had insisted on bringing two
suitcases, but would not carry them himself.

Gandalf shrugged.  "He has been here this whole time, but he has not
been unoccupied."

Maglor tilted his head.  "What do you mean?"

"Just board the ship.  The three of you have delayed us long enough."
Gandalf stepped aboard, disappearing below the deck where the vampires
were sure Círdan would be.

"He seems slightly unhappy," David muttered as he followed his lovers
onto the modest sized ship.

Erestor chuckled.  "Gandalf hates losing."

"I was not aware he had lost something," David said as they stepped
below deck, too.

Maglor looked over his shoulder, winking at the Man.  "You are here,
beloved.  He has lost."

David's cheeks colored.  "Oh," was all he said as they entered the
main living area of the ship.

What had occupied Círdan's time was obvious the moment the trio gazed
around the room.  Every surface available had a differed 3-D puzzle of
a ship on it, all in various sizes and styles.  The shipwright was
bent over the small table near the back of the room, placing what
looked like the last piece to another 3-D ship.  David craned his neck
around the group, reading the name of the ship Círdan had just
completed.

"RMS Titanic," he quoted.

Círdan lifted his head, a smile crossing his bearded face as he looked
upon the wayward Elves.  Erestor leaned closer to the puzzle ship, and
suddenly the puzzle split in half -- the bow separating from the
stern.  Erestor and Círdan's eyes met, and Erestor blushed under the
scrutinizing gaze.

"See?" Maglor laughed.  "It *was* your fault!"

David never saw the strike Erestor delivered that sent Maglor to the
floor, the elder vampire gripping his abdomen.

*****

They could not have been at sea more than three days.  No more than
that, David thought, as he mounted the stairs up to the deck where
Erestor called for him from.  They could not have possibly arrived in
this fabled land already!

Erestor stood on the bow of the ship, his hand in Maglor's, staring
out over the calm ocean.  David joined them, and the two vampires
shifted so that the Man stood between them, their hands laced together
behind his back.  The view was obscured by dense fog, and David did
not know what his lovers kept looking for.

The fog parted as he gazed with Erestor and Maglor, and David's breath
caught in his throat.  Glittering white, tall towers and large
mountains sprawled along the horizon.  David's heart began to race the
close they came to those white shores.  "Oh, my," he breathed.

"Home," Erestor said, his voice thick with emotion.  David turned his
eyes to the younger vampire.  Tears fell steadily from Erestor's eyes,
the proud chin trembling with the effort he put forth to restrain the
sob David knew was building in his chest.

"Aye," Maglor whispered.  "We're home, melethen mi dúath."  David saw
the tears mirrored on Maglor's face, that same tension as the elder of
the two tried to remain somewhat composed. (my lover in darkness)

They were joined by Círdan and Gandalf the closer they came to the
port.  The ship floated under a great arch, toward docks where white
ships were lashed.

"It is the Swanhaven," Maglor said to David.  "It is here that my
hands were first sullied with the blood of my kin."  The regret and
sadness David heard in the words brought tears to his own eyes.

Gandalf's hand came to rest on Maglor's shoulder.  "Those are wounds
of the past, son of Fëanor.  Those transgressions were long ago
forgiven."

Bitterness seeped into Maglor's tone.  "Were they, old man?  I don't
think so.  No, had they been forgiven, Erestor and I would have
returned millennia ago."

The hand dropped away, and David almost felt sorry for the Wizard.
But, he knew Maglor was right.  He had listened enough over the past
month to know that the two vampires were only allowed back because the
Valar had grown tired of the pleas.  They were not forgiven; the gods
were just tired of being annoyed.

Their bodies were jostled as they settled into dock, and Círdan tied
off the ship before announcing they could exit the deck.  Maglor and
Erestor each took one of David's suitcases, while the Man nervously
wrung his hands.  There was a small crowd gathered near the docks;
perhaps a hundred Elves had come to see the last arrivals to these
shores.

David knew how odd they must look to these Elves.  Where Círdan and
Gandalf had changed into robes, the three lovers had remained in their
modern clothing.  Maglor was the epitome of gothic beauty in a crimson
silk dress shirt, the sleeves cinching at his wrist, and his legs clad
in tight, smooth black leather.  Black boots crept up his calves and
his hair was wild and sea-blown.

Erestor was dark and fell looking, his hair just as free as Maglor's.
He wore black jeans that hugged every curve of his backside and showed
off his groin to the best advantage.  He wore a shirt much like
Maglor's, but his was black with silver embroidery.  He also wore
black boots, but his were hidden under the fabric of his jeans.

But, he, the mortal, the odd one out, was the one most eyes fell on.
He was a Man.  He was different.  David had soft honey-brown hair that
curled slightly as it grew longer.  The tresses now reached to the
middle of his back, but he tended to keep it gathered in a ponytail.
He wore simple faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt, his hazel eyes
downcast as they marched from the wharf.

It took them the better part of the day to march from Alqualondë to
the base of Taniquetil, and David's nerves were frayed.  Erestor held
onto his hand, occasionally whispering encouraging words to his lover
along the journey.  When they reached the base of the mountain,
David's eyes widened as he gazed up the long, long line of stairs
leading to the summit.

"You got to be fucking kidding me," he gasped.

Erestor nuzzled David's cheek.  "Do not worry so, melethen.  The home
of Manwë, King of the Valar, resides at the peak.  The Valar are
convened there; they await us."

"I repeat," David said, "you have got to be fucking kidding me!  I
cannot climb all those stairs!"

Maglor kissed David softly, ignoring the eyes of the Elves who had
followed them.  "If you drank from one of us, you would have the
stamina to climb.  Do you want that?"

David nodded.

"Which one of us, David?" Erestor purred.  The three lovers forgot
their audience as they engaged in a well-practiced dance.  Erestor
dropped the suitcase he carried to come stand behind David while
Maglor set his suitcase down and pressed his chest to David's.  The
Man's face and neck were flushed in greedy anticipation.

"I want to taste you, Maglor," David breathed.

Maglor smiled, his pewter eyes darkening like the sky before a storm.
"Then you shall."

David cried out sharply as Erestor bit into his throat, his blood
rushing into the vampire's eager mouth.  Through heavy-lidded eyes,
David watched Maglor cut the flesh at the base of his neck.  He leaned
forward; David's lips latched over the wound and he sucked eagerly.
The world fell away as they shared a bond far deeper than that of
lovers, tasting each other, hearing their thoughts, knowing their
souls.

When they parted, David was gasping with the power surging through
him.  Maglor lapped at the twin marks on David's throat, and Erestor
suckled at the blood remaining on David's lips.  They parted, and it
was only then that they remembered the Elves around them.  The Eldar
gazed in disgusted interest, and David could scent their arousal,
their fear at what they had just witnessed.  The trio laughed as they
mounted the stairs.  David was drunk on the power of Maglor's blood
rushing through him, and the trek to Manwë's throne did not physically
tax him as much as it normally would have.

The outdoor meeting area Gandalf led them to housed only two thrones.
Seated in one of those thrones was an Elf with eyes as blue as the
sky, full of wisdom and mercy.  His hair was a sheet of gold, flowing
over his dark blue robes, glittering in the late afternoon sunlight.
Beside him was a woman whose eyes were as black and bottomless as the
night sky, but there was a glimmer in the inky pools that reminded
David of the first star of night.  Her hair was also black, shimmering
like a raven's wing, tumbling in thick curls over her deep violet
dress.  Gandalf knelt before the two seated figures, but Erestor and
Maglor did not.  Because his lovers did not bow to these stately
figures, David did not either.

His hazel eyes swung around the room and he noticed others standing
near those thrones.  Each was more beautiful than the last, all
frightening in the depths their eyes showed.

These were the Valar.  These beings helped bring this world into
being.  David felt faint.

"I have brought them as you asked, my Lord, my Lady," Gandalf said.

The male nodded once.  "Thank you, Olórin, but you have not only
brought back our headstrong minstrel and our brave warrior, but a
third.  A third who should not be here."

There was a tremor in that voice, one of frightful power, and David
cowered between Erestor and Maglor.

"They would not come unless they brought the Man.  You said to do
whatever was necessary to bring them to you, and bringing the Man was
necessary," Gandalf said, still on bended knee before these beings.

"Why have you brought a descendant of the great kingdom of Númenor to
these shores, son of Feanáro; son of Huoro?" the dark eyed female
asked.  Though her voice was just as even and soft as the male's,
there was an edge to it that made David fear her.

It was Maglor who spoke, and David admired his lover's gall in the
face of such old, deep power.  "He is our companion.  We would not
leave him to a lonely fate when he has given all up for his love of
us.  If we came, he came.  Gandalf insisted we return to your lands,
and our price was David."

"You are not in a position to be bargaining," a new voice warned.
David saw another dark-haired being, in the shape of an Elf, step
forward.  It was obviously male, and his eyes were blue, but an icy,
almost white, blue.  He was clothed in black, and David sensed an air
of death around him.

Maglor snarled at this new male.  "You stay out of this."

"Why have you had us come, Manwë?" Erestor asked the male on the
throne quietly, his hand still entwined with David's.

Manwë's lips curved up oh so slightly.  "Since your golden warrior set
foot on these shores, he has remained at my doorstep.  He has begged
and pleaded; he has cajoled and raved.  No one in Aman was given a
moment's respite, especially once he enlisted the aid of another on
your behalf."

"You have served your sentence, Kanafinwë.  You have learned your
lessons," the female finished for her king.

Maglor actually spat.  "I have learned nothing but contempt for this
land and those who dwell in it!  You left us in a world we could not
be fully a part of, yet could not leave.  You were sadistic and cruel
and only now lift your ban because you are tired of Glorfindel's
whining!" he cried.

"Kanafinwë!" Erestor hissed, grabbing Maglor's hand and drawing him
close.  "Do not anger them, melethen.  Please, do not have us cast
from our home once more."

Something inside Maglor broke with Erestor's words.  Erestor's voice
trembled and his eyes had filled with tears.  Maglor cupped Erestor's
cheek tenderly.  "I love you, Sangië," he said, using a name for
Erestor David had never heard before.

Erestor nodded.  "I love you, Kanafinwë.  Let it die its death, as we
should have so long ago.  We are home."

Maglor kissed Erestor once, softly, before facing the Valar again.
"It is over?" he asked.

Manwë nodded.  "It is over."

Erestor fell to his knees, pulling David with him, and the vampire
gasped, clutching at his chest.  David looked up and saw that Maglor
was on the floor as well.  "Erestor?" he asked, panic creeping around
his heart.

His two lovers took many moments to compose themselves, and when
Erestor met David's eyes, there were huge tears slipping down
Erestor's cheeks.  "David," he whispered raggedly.  "It *is* over."

Maglor crawled over to his lovers, grasping their hands.  Erestor took
David's other hand, completing the circle.  It was then David
understood.

"You are alive!" he breathed.  The Elves gazed at him through tears,
smiles on their faces and laughed welling in their throats.  "You're
alive!" David cried gleefully.

Erestor dived forward, capturing David's mouth in a deep, searching
kiss.  When Erestor had ravaged his mouth, Maglor teased David's
swollen lips, dipping his tongue into the Man's mouth.  When David was
panting, hard, and needy, the two Elves pulled back from him.  "Why
did you do that?" he asked dazedly.

"That was the first time we have tasted *you*, David," Maglor said,
smoothing the hair back from David's face.  "Nothing but you.  No
blood, no lust, no power.  Just the sweetness of you."

"Erestor?"

Erestor's body became deathly still.  David looked over Erestor's
shoulder to see a tall, beautiful Elf step from the shadows.  Hair as
golden as the sun shone in the dying light of the day, and eyes blue
as a spring sky shimmered with unshed tears.  He wore a simple tunic
and leggings, well-worn brown boots on his feet, but the Elf was
dazzling to David's eyes.  He recognized the Elf from the visions
Erestor had shared with him through their blood bond.

"Erestor?" the golden Elf called again.  "Will you not look upon me,
my lost love?" he asked, still walking toward the kneeling trio.

David saw a tremor run through Erestor's body, but the Elf still did
not turn to greet his love.

"Have you forgotten me, my love?  For I have not forgotten you," the
golden Elf continued, the tears now spilling from his eyes.  "I never
forgot you.  I gave my word, and I never gave up."

A strangled cry fell from Erestor's lips and he leapt to his feet,
spinning to face the taller Elf now that he was only a few steps away.
They just gazed at each other, tears falling unnoticed, until Erestor
let out a deep, body-shaking sob and flung himself into the blond's
arms.

"Glorfindel!"  Erestor wept in the arms he had thought he would never
feel again.  He could not stop the tears, could not stop the sobs, and
could not stop saying his lover's name again and again.

Glorfindel stroked Erestor's raven tresses.  They slowly fell to the
ground, Erestor all but crawling into Glorfindel's lap, begging the
Elf to never leave his side again.

"Never, Erestor," Glorfindel said, pulling away enough to see
Erestor's face.  "Never."  He bent his head then and kissed Erestor's
warm, sweet lips for the first time in centuries, but the kiss did not
last as Erestor began to sob uncontrollably once more.

David realized he was crying with Erestor, but then he laughed, still
grasping Maglor's hand.  There was a dark shadow in Maglor's eyes, and
that was when the pain of the situation dawned on David.  Erestor was
Glorfindel's.  Their happy threesome was broken.  What would he and
Maglor do now?

Another Elf with hair a rich auburn then appeared behind Glorfindel
and Erestor.  "Cáno?" he called.

Maglor shook his head, slowly crawling away from the newcomer.  "No,"
he choked out.  "No!"  He turned his angry, frightened eyes to Manwë
and his queen.  "Do not torment me with him!  You have already torn my
soul from me, have made me no more than an animal, do not shred what
little is left of my heart!" he begged.

The redhead reached out, snatching Maglor into an embrace.  "You would
send me away after all the years I came with Glorfindel to make them
bring you back to me, Cáno?  Do you hate me so much that you would
prefer me dead?"

Maglor kept whispering 'no', his eyes wide and unseeing.

"Please, forgive me, my brother, for bringing that curse upon you and
then leaving your side.  I was mad with grief and I made a rash
decision.  A decision I have regretted for millennia.  Do not shun me
now, please, Cáno, do not shun me."

"Russandol," Maglor said.  "It cannot be you."

"Aye, 'tis me, brother."  Maedhros sat back on his heels.  "'Tis me,
lover."

Maglor recoiled, his eyes darting to the seated Valar.  He would have
remained frozen like that if his brother did not turn his face back to
him, leaning in and kissing his slightly parted lips.  "We can be
together," Maedhros breathed into Maglor's mouth before slipping his
tongue inside.  Maglor whimpered at the gentle touch, and Maedhros
withdrew, cradling his younger brother against his breast.  "You are
home, Cáno," he whispered.

"Home, Russandol," Maglor whispered, closing his eyes and listening to
his brother's strong, steady heartbeat.  "Home."

David shifted uncomfortably, alone between the reunited couples.  He
was now regretting leaving with his lovers.  He was just as alone now
as he would have been, only now he was in a strange land with no one
like himself.  David hugged himself, fighting the urge to cry.  He had
made the choice, now he had to live with it.

"David, son of Graham," Manwë called, drawing attention to the lone
Man.  "This is not your land."

Erestor squirmed out of Glorfindel's arms, coming to stand beside
David.  "This is now his land.  I ask for him to share Tuor's fate; I
ask for him to reside among the Eldar, among those whose lives are
bound to the life of Arda."

"Why should we grant your request?" the dark haired, light-eyed being
asked, walking close to Erestor and David.

Maglor stood as well.  "Because, Námo, Erestor shared our curse.  He
has suffered punishment for a crime he was not guilty of.  His
grievances must be redressed.  He asks for David's life in Aman."

Manwë lifted a hand, silencing everyone.  Those wise sapphire eyes
pierced David.  "You would be bound as they are to the life of Arda.
Ageless in this land.  Or we can send you home and you will wake in
your bed, believing this all a dream.  What do you say, David, son of
Graham?  Do you desire to live among the Elves in our land of peace?"

David looked from Maglor to Erestor, his mind spinning with questions,
with fears, with doubts.  But, when it was all said and done, what
exactly did he have to wake up to in his bed?  Nothing.  No one.  He
lifted his warm hazel eyes, squarely meeting the King of the Valar's.
"What the hell," he said, shrugging his shoulders in agreement.

TBC...

Chapter Twenty-One

Aman, 2011

Maedhros' hand on Maglor's was tight, as if the elder expected the
younger to disappear if he let go.  He dragged Maglor into the large,
airy room, cupping his face between his hands, kissing Maglor with
feverish need.  Clothing was torn from bodies as hands touched and
stroked flesh long ago memorized.

Maglor fell onto the crisp sheets, the scent of salt air clinging to
the fabric.  Maedhros had changed the linens, it seemed, before
bringing his brother home.  Maglor did not smell the spicy cinnamon he
had come to associate with his brother on the sheets.  His thoughts
were cut short as Maedhros' lean, long body pressed against his, the
redhead's tongue lapped at Maglor's throat.  It was odd to be so
aroused without the blood lust driving him on.  He cried out when
Maedhros' teeth sank into his throat, the pain intense as he was
marked.  He knew the bruise would be bright and deep, and he felt a
deep sense of satisfaction at being Maedhros' once more.

He arched up, pressing his erection against Maedhros' belly.  "I need
you," he panted, squirming desperately under his brother's weight.

"As impatient as ever," Maedhros teased as he fumbled with the buttons
of Maglor's shirt.  "Such interesting clothing, but I like you better
spread naked beneath me."  Maglor's chest was soon bared to Maedhros'
hungry eyes.  He licked his lips as he leaned in, capturing a stiff
nipple between his teeth.  Maglor cried out, burying his fingers in
his brother's copper hair.  Maedhros sucked on the nub until Maglor
whimpered in a mixture of pain and need, and then he moved to the
other nipple.  He lapped and bit at Maglor's chest until the younger
Elf's pleas took on a note of true suffering.  Only then did Maedhros
abandon Maglor's chest, running his tongue from breastbone to navel,
unzipping the leather that barred him from Maglor's engorged sex.

Maglor wiggled his hips to aid in the removal of his pants.  He
groaned with frustration when Maedhros had to stop to remove the boots
still on Maglor's feet.  His skin burned, and his chest rose and fell
heavily as Maedhros finally tossed the clingy leather to the floor.
He watched his brother hastily tug at this own clothing, tossing aside
his tunic and leggings.  Unable to stop himself, Maglor began to
lightly stroke his cock as he stared excitedly at Maedhros.

The copper-haired Elf stood motionless, his eyes intently following
the motions of Maglor's hand over his shaft.  Maglor grinned up at
Maedhros, spreading his legs in shameless entreaty.

Maedhros rifled through his bedside drawer, crowing in victory as he
held up a small phial of oil.  He climbed onto the bed between
Maglor's lifted and spread legs, removing the stopper to the oil with
his teeth.  "You are still the most beautiful of all Eru's creations,
tôren," he whispered, pouring a generous amount of the oil into his
palm.  He slicked the viscous liquid over his aching length; as he
touched himself with his right hand, he braced his weight on his left
so that he hovered over Maglor's trembling, over-heated body.  He
nipped at Maglor's swollen lips, his eyes half-closed as he gazed down
at his brother.  "I want to press your legs against your chest.  I
want to plunge into your body, hear you scream as I remind your body
who its master is," he said raggedly.

Maglor chuckled.  "You may plunge next week.  At the moment, though,
you must take care.  I have *never* permitted another to have me as
you do."

"Never?" Maedhros asked.

"Never."

Maedhros smiled and bent down, meeting Maglor's open mouth with his.
He kissed his brother deeply as he slipped a finger inside Maglor's
tight passage.  Maglor gave a pained cry, which Maedhros smothered
with more kisses.  He moved his finger carefully within his brother,
smearing oil along the quivering channel.  He withdrew his finger
slowly, lifting his head from Maglor's sweet lips.  "Are you ready?"
he asked.  Maglor seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then nodded.
Maedhros smiled again and took himself in hand as Maglor lifted his
legs more, further exposing his entrance.

Maglor held Maedhros' gaze as the elder Elf gently thrust forward.  He
bit his lip, refusing to make any sound as Maedhros continued to move
inward.  He bit so hard that he tasted blood and gasped when Maedhros
snaked out his tongue, licking at the small scarlet smear.

"I can never escape the blood," Maglor whispered when Maedhros was
fully embedded in his heat.  "Always the blood..."

"Shh..." Maedhros soothed, brushing a stray lock of hair from Maglor's
brow.  He moved shallowly at first, allowing Maglor's body to grow
used to being penetrated once again.  As the muscles squeezing his
shaft loosened, Maedhros began to thrust more forcefully; Maglor's
soft, plaintive moans drove him onward.  He withdrew until only the
head of his cock remained inside the velvet passage.  He waited there,
a small smile playing on his full lips.

Maglor opened his eyes, glaring up at his elder brother.  "What are
you waiting for?" he demanded sourly.  He tried to press back, tried
to impale himself on Maedhros' thick length.  When he couldn't, he
mewled pathetically and clawed at Maedhros' back.  "Maedhros!"

Without warning, Maedhros plunged into Maglor's backside.  Maglor's
nails dug into Maedhros' back as he arched upward, a sharp, short
scream escaping his lips.  Buried to the hilt, Maedhros laughed
quietly.  "I told you I would plunge into you, make you scream."

"You... evil... cruel," Maglor said between breathless moans as
Maedhros set a new, almost frantic, pace.  Maglor rested his ankles on
his brother's shoulders, losing himself in the sensation of Maedhros'
cock piercing him.  The thick shaft and smooth in-and-out motion were
both thrilling and inflaming.  Maedhros had been the first, last, and
only one to enter him; it was Maglor's gift to the brother he had
idolized all his life.

He brought their lips together, pushing his tongue into Maedhros'
mouth, almost intoxicated with his lover's taste, scent and sounds.
Maglor slid a hand between their rocking bodies and gripped his hard
length, rubbing the clear fluids leaking steadily from the slit over
the dark head of his cock.  He bit at Maedhros' lip, whimpering each
time Maedhros pushed into him.  He moved his hand steadily over his
heated flesh, his muscles tensing as he neared his orgasm.

"Not yet," Maedhros murmured into Maglor's mouth between kisses.  "Not
yet."

Maglor nodded, every muscle in his body straining with the effort it
took to stave off his climax.

"Hand off your sex," Maedhros commanded.  When Maglor did not
immediately comply, Maedhros stopped long enough to grasp both of
Maglor's wrists in his left hand and hold them against the bed above
Maglor's head.  "Much better," he said, almost slamming back into his
brother's body.  He gazed down at Maglor's flushed face, memorized
each expression as it crossed his face, and relished the intense
pressure surrounding him, gripping him with each thrust.

Tears made silver tracks down Maglor's cheeks as he struggled in
Maedhros' strong, firm grip.  "Please," he sobbed, hiding his face
against his upper arm.  "Please, tôren aniaur." (my older brother)

"Not yet," Maedhros repeated, his voice strained as his release
approached.  He felt the fluttering in his stomach and the tightening
of his sac, but he continued to pound into Maglor, unrelenting in his
need for completion.  When his orgasm did wash over him, Maedhros'
back bowed, pushing his cock deep into his brother's body as his seed
flooded the desperately clinging passage.  He grunted, breathing out
Maglor's name as the aftershocks rushed through him.  Maedhros
collapsed atop Maglor, the younger Elf's sobs soft in his ear.
"Melethron," he whispered, kissing the cracked, dry lips and tasting a
hint of salt and copper.  "Now."

Maglor's glistening eyes followed Maedhros' journey down his body, the
copper hair tickling a trail along his oversensitive flesh .
Scorching wetness engulfed his cock; skilled muscles flexed and milked
his eager arousal.  He clutched at the bedsheets, his hips restrained
by Maedhros' ever-present hands.  His orgasm came in one massive,
blinding surge, robbing him of sight, sound, and voice.  He was only
vaguely aware of Maedhros drinking him dry, of teasing the damp slit
with his tongue, consuming all Maglor's body could offer.  He floated
weightlessly, basking in the warmth of his brother's presence and the
sated bliss of orgasm.

Maglor was not certain when reason returned to him, but when he opened
his grey eyes, he was tucked cozily under a quilt he recognized.

"Aye, it is the one Naneth made for us," Maedhros said, his voice
vibrating in his chest, which Maglor's ear was pressed against.  "I am
sorry for tormenting you so, Cáno, but I wanted to taste you, not
waste such a delicacy to sheets."

Maglor chuckled.  "You are not sorry."

Maedhros was silent for a few moments, and Maglor almost drifted back
into reverie.

"No, I suppose not," he said, kissing the crown of Maglor's head.  "Do
you miss him yet?"

The younger Elf hugged the elder just a little closer.  "I will always
miss him.  Miss them both.  But, I am yours.  Always yours, and I
desire to be no one else's.  Ever."

Maedhros let out a long breath.  "Good, because I did not intend to
share you."

*****

"This is home," Glorfindel said, closing the door to the modest house.
"I know it is not much, but I hope you will be happy here."

Erestor moved through the main living space, ignoring the kitchen and
bathing areas, and entered the bedroom.  The room was large and airy,
facing the sea, and the bed dominated the room.  It was a heavy piece
of furniture, dark and substantial.  It was covered in a dark blue
quilt, and Erestor could see that white sheets adorned the bed.
White.  Pure.  That was what Glorfindel was, and he was not.

He bit his lip and turned to flee the room, but Glorfindel stood in
his way, a single candle cutting through the darkness of late evening.
"What is it, melethen?" Glorfindel asked, putting the candle on a
nearby table.

Erestor shook his head.  "I am a terrible mate, Glorfindel!  While you
were here, pleading to have me brought to you, chaste in your pure
white bed, I was reveling in blood and sex!  And when I thought life
was merely blood and lust, David came into our life.  What I did with
him was far worse than simply sharing my body.  I shared my *heart*
with him, Glorfindel!  I betrayed my promise to be yours.  You were
faithful while I was just dirty."  Erestor's head bowed and soft sobs
wracked his body.  "I am so sorry, Glorfindel, so very sorry."

Glorfindel gripped Erestor's shoulders, looking down into the
tear-streaked face he had missed so much.  "Oh, Erestor, love, please,
never be sorry.  I do not care what you have done.  That does not
matter to me -- it never did!  Do not leave.  Do not leave me again.
I love you.  I love you so much that it burned like a fire in my
heart, warming me on the nights when I missed you the most.  But, now
you are here.  We are together!  Let us not waste what is left of our
eternity.  Stay with me, meleth-e-guilen," he finished, dipping his
head down and capturing Erestor's lips in a gentle kiss. (love of my
heart)

"Echado veleth enni," Erestor whispered to Glorfindel, minute tremors
coursing through his body.  "Please." (make love to me)

"With pleasure, pen vorn," Glorfindel replied, running his tongue
along the outer edge of Erestor's ear. (dark one)

Erestor shivered in Glorfindel's embrace, his heart racing with
fearful anticipation.  Glorfindel unbuttoned the silk shirt, kissing
each patch of skin that appeared between the dark fabric.  Erestor
sighed and swayed where he stood, allowing the shirt to slip from his
shoulders and fall to the floor.  He then watched Glorfindel kneel in
front of him, nuzzling his groin as he removed Erestor's boots.
Erestor moaned, bringing his hands to Glorfindel's shoulders in case
his knees failed him.

His socks followed the boots, and then he was there.  The golden head
hovering in front of his hips, his lips hovering above the prominent
bulge pressing against the leather of his pants.  Erestor bit his lip
lightly as Glorfindel leaned forward, gripping the zipper with his
teeth and pulling down.  The blond Elf's hot, moist breath ghosted his
erection, causing Erestor to gasp.  As Glorfindel continued to unzip
the pants with his teeth, his fingers easily released the button.
Erestor shivered as the leather was peeled from his legs and the cool
night breeze caressed his heated skin and aching arousal.

"Glorfindel," he choked out, gazing down at his lover, but the Elf
ignored him, placing his hands on Erestor's hips.

Soft, warm lips kissed the hollows of his hips, tracing a path of fire
down the crease where his thighs met pelvis.  Glorfindel was so
gentle, so slow in his actions that Erestor thought he would scream
with barely restrained need.  The blond Elf circled him on his knees,
placing open-mouthed kisses over his buttocks and running his tongue
hotly along the cleft of his backside, stopping just before that
tongue could caress his entrance.

Glorfindel kissed and suckled, nipped and lapped from Erestor's waist
down, but carefully avoided his weeping cock and quivering opening.
Erestor clenched and unclenched his fingers in Glorfindel's tunic with
frustration just before the blond stood.  Erestor looked up into the
sapphire eyes darkened with lust and he smiled.  "Now will you take me
to bed?"

Glorfindel chuckled.  "Allow me a moment to undress and admire your
beautiful body as you climb onto the bed, and I will be happy to do
anything you ask of me, melethen."

Erestor kissed Glorfindel, thrusting his tongue into Glorfindel's
mouth, tasting him as deeply as he could.  Glorfindel moaned, pressing
his own cotton-covered arousal against Erestor's bare one, forcing
Erestor step back with a needy gasp.  Black gaze met azure and then
parted as Erestor turned to the bed, swaying his hips slightly as he
walked.

As soon as he was on the bed, he felt Glorfindel's naked body pressed
against his from behind.  Strong, safe arms wrapped around his
shoulders, drawing him against a broad chest where a heart beat
rapidly.  The two Elves lay on their sides, the light spooning the
dark.  Erestor shuddered as Glorfindel's shaft nestled in the crevice
of his backside, promising remembered passions.  Erestor tried to turn
in Glorfindel's embrace, but the Elda held him tight to his chest.

"Nay, love.  I want to hold you close, to smell your scent and know
you will not disappear in a wisp of dream smoke the moment I find
release," he breathed against Erestor's sensitive ear.

Erestor nodded, knowing the pain of waking from an intense dream of
the mate of his heart, only to find himself alone or with Maglor, not
Glorfindel.  Slick, slender fingers pressed against his entrance and
Erestor pushed back, opening himself to the intrusion.  Two of
Glorfindel's fingers easily slid into him, coating his insides with
the oil, preparing him sweetly.

"We do not have to spend so much time on this," Erestor murmured
impatiently.

Glorfindel smiled against Erestor's neck.  "We may not have to, pen
vorn, but I want to."  The fingers thrust in and out in long strokes,
massaging the passage with knowing movements.  Glorfindel then did
something only he had ever been able to do with the ancient Noldo.  He
crooked his fingers forward, toward Erestor's pelvis, and rubbed his
fingers over an almost imperceptible little bump.  Erestor bucked in
his arms, the arm he was not laying on flying around to anchor himself
by digging his nails into Glorfindel's side.  Glorfindel grinned
evilly, moving over that nub twice more, drawing frantic screams from
Erestor's lips.  "This is how I adore you, Erestor.  Panting,
screaming, and wild."

Erestor felt Glorfindel shift behind him and those devilish fingers
leave his body.  He took in gulps of air, his body still humming from
the actions of his lover.  Valar, Glorfindel would kill him this
night!  But, oh, what a sweet death it would be.

The blunt heat of Glorfindel's shaft pressed against his opening,
nudging at the tight ring of muscle before it breached it slowly.
Erestor's moan joined Glorfindel's cry of possession as he sheathed
himself completely in Erestor's heat.  They clung to one another,
panting and trembling as the significance and gravity of the moment
washed over him.  They waited, their hearts beating together in the
brief time before their urgency for completion overtook them.

Glorfindel used one arm under Erestor's body to cuddle him close while
he took hold of Erestor's length in the other.  The position
Glorfindel had chosen offered two things the Elda wanted: closeness
and shallow movement.  The climb to the peak for them would be slow
and torturous, but Glorfindel would have it no other way.  He had
dreamed of Erestor for so many years, ached to have him in his arms
again, and he would not waste a moment of it on clumsy, frenzied
lovemaking.

No, he would enjoy the clutching of Erestor's inner muscles, the feel
of the dark Elf pressed against him, the soft sound he made every time
Glorfindel swiped his thumb over the sensitive, sticky head of his
arousal.  These were their first moments together after fearing an
eternity apart, and Glorfindel would not squander them.

Glorfindel thrust inside the tight confines, shallow, even thrusts
that drew soft mewls of pleasure from his lover.  With each push
inside, Erestor's cock would twitch in his hand, a fine shiver
traveling up the Noldo's spine.  Glorfindel nuzzled Erestor's neck,
and the dark Elf let his head fall to the side, exposing the pale,
creamy expanse of his throat to the Elda.  He suckled lightly at the
thin flesh, feeling Erestor's pulse pound under his lips.  It was the
first sense of true life Glorfindel had found in Erestor since the
first moment he had offered his bleeding wrist to the kneeling vampire
millennia ago.

Erestor wanted deeper thrusts, wanted to be ravaged and sated.  But,
Glorfindel restricted their motions.  A long push into his passage was
coupled with a tight stroke down his length, and Erestor was caught
between his need for release and his basking in the feel of Glorfindel
inside him again.

Neither time nor the physical are mastered by the will, and the two
Elves began to move with more need, more intent.  They lost themselves
to the sounds and smells of their coupling.  The spicy, apple blossom
scent of Glorfindel mingled with the crisp scent of lilies that clung
to Erestor, and a blanket of musk mated both scents.

Glorfindel burrowed his face into the floral smells of Erestor's hair,
a long, deep groan emanating from his throat as he spent himself in
the core of Erestor.  With the last spurt of his seed, Erestor's
muscles clenched, drawing another cry from Glorfindel, his fluids
christening the bed as his orgasm shook his body.

They did not move from their position.  As Glorfindel's sex softened,
he remained trapped by the tight ring of muscle.  Their connection was
sustained long after their hearts had slowed and the aftershocks had
ceased.  Erestor was just drifting off into reverie when Glorfindel
kissed his neck, shifting so that he could speak directly into
Erestor's ear.

"I spoke with Maglor earlier today when you and David were speaking
with the Valar.  He mentioned something that has intrigued me, but he
told me I should ask you directly."  Glorfindel sucked on the tip of
Erestor's ear, and the dark Elf squirmed as his desire awoke again.

"And what was that?" he asked distractedly, feeling Glorfindel's cock
stiffen inside him again.

"What," Glorfindel began, rocking inside the sticky passage, "is a
doll-fin, and why does he laugh every time he speaks about an incident
with one?"

*****

David wiped at the tears on his cheeks.  After a long meeting with the
Valar, and the departure of his companions, David had descended the
great mountain and trudged toward the sound of water.  It was dark by
the time he reached the inlet that led to Tirion.  He had not gone in
the direction of the large Elven city.  Instead, he had removed his
boots, rolled up his jeans, and sunk his feet into the cool saltwater.
There he remained, watching the stars come out and blur as his tears
fell.

He was alone.

He was afraid.

But, he was happy for his lovers.  Such pain in Erestor's heart, such
darkness without his Glorfindel, how could he ever not want to see the
smile of pure happiness that had bloomed on Erestor's face as he was
held in the golden Elf's arms?

And Maglor.  To see the great Elf fearful and needy...  It was
wonderful to know that Maglor could feel more than distant sarcasm and
bloodlust.  He could not fault either of them for grabbing onto the
offered happiness with both hands.

If only he had the same hope.  No, here he was odd.  He was a Man who
did not speak the language of the Elves and certainly did not look
like one of them.  His eternity, secured by Erestor and agreed to by
himself, looked bleak and depressing indeed.

"Suilad." (Greetings)

A lyrical, light voice interrupted his dark mood, calling his
attention to the tall, slender form standing near him.  The Elf had
long, dark hair like Erestor's, but it was pulled back on both sides
by lovely silver clips.  The Elf's eyes were wide and a clear,
shimmering grey that seemed to dance with inner mirth.  The face was
sharp, but not unattractive, and his lips were full, kissed with a
smile.  He wore simple dark leggings, light boots, and a pale,
silver-green tunic that reached his thighs.  David realized he was
staring and looked away, flushing in embarrassment.

"Pedich Edhellen?" the willowy Elf asked. (Do you speak Elvish?)

David shook his head.  "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

The Elf gracefully sat beside him on the bank, folding his legs under
him.  He thought for a moment, and turned his smiling face toward
David again.  "It has been many years since I spoke your language, but
it is not forgotten to me."

"You speak my language?" David asked, the shock in his voice making
the Elf laugh.  The sound was warm and musical, and David could not
help smiling in response.  "It was a dumb question."

The Elf tilted his head.  "Dumb?"

"Silly, foolish," he tried, fumbling for definitions.

"Ah," the Elf said, nodding his understanding.  "No, it was not a
foolish question.  Most of us can speak the Common Tongue, and what we
do not know, we can learn quickly.  Perhaps you will teach us."  David
blushed again, and the Elf chuckled. "May I inquire your name?"

"David," he said, offering his hand.  The Elf stared at it for a
moment, and David shifted uncomfortably, withdrawing his hand.  "It's
a way of greeting where I am from, the shaking of hands."

It was the Elf's turn to blush.  "Forgive me for being so rude."  He
cleared his throat.  "David.  What does it mean?"

David smiled.  "'Beloved'."

"What a lovely name.  In our ancient language, you would be called
'Melda'."  The Elf held out his hand.  "My name is Lindir."

David shook Lindir's hand, shivering when their skin touched.  "What
does it mean?"

Lindir tossed his hair over his shoulder, lifting his chin a bit.
"'Singer'.  I can sing and play any instrument placed before me.  My
mother knew what my occupation would be when I was an adult and named
me appropriately."

They fell silent as David gazed at the sky.  He was comfortable in
Lindir's presence and he was happy the Elf had visited with him.

"Do you have a place to sleep?" Lindir asked.

David shook his head.  "It seems Maglor and Erestor have found...
better things to think of than me," he mumbled bitterly.

Lindir rested a hand on David's thigh.  "They have suffered greatly,
David.  Would you deny them their reward?"

"No.  It still hurts, but no," he admitted.

"Come to my home.  I live in Tirion, near my former Lord and Lady.
You are welcome to stay as long as you like."  Lindir stood up and
offered his hand to David.  "Come with me, David."  David's hazel eyes
must have radiated his gratitude, because Lindir laughed that
beautiful laugh again.  "I do not mind sharing my home with one such
as you, meldir.  You are pretty to look at, and lovely to speak with."

David flushed further, taking Lindir's hand.  He stumbled as he stood,
and Lindir caught him before he fell.  He was inches from Lindir's
face, the Elf's strong arms wrapped around him.  The Elf smelled of
fresh water and aloe, clean and crisp, and his lips were moist and
plump.  David could not believe what he was thinking!

Lindir leaned in for a moment, placing a brief kiss on David's lips.
"Come home with me, David."

"Yes," David said, smiling as the weight lifted from his heart.

He was home.

TBC...

Epilogue

Tirion, Aman, 2015

David has been gone for over six hours.  I continue to watch the flame
of the day candle inch lower.  Dawn will approach soon, and I will
light a new candle.  By the time I do that, David will have returned.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks.  Yes, he will come back to me, but he
will smell of *them*.

At one point, Erestor had been a dear friend.  Maglor...  I had never
known the famed Noldo, but I knew Maedhros.  Erestor and Maglor had
been my friends -- companions -- for the short time that all was well
between us upon their return.  Now, the two returned Elves were the
things from my nightmares.  I should have heeded Glorfindel's words
when the Elda had spoken to me about David.  Instead, I had laughed,
brushing Glorfindel aside, telling him what David did and with whom he
did it was none of my concern.  We were not lovers; we were friends.

A week later, I woke beside the sleeping Man, my body still humming
from the night's pleasures.  I had not known at the time the agreement
Glorfindel and Maedhros had made with their lovers and David.  Had I
known, I never would have bedded him, never fallen in love with him.

My bitter laugh, tinged with a sob, echoes in the silence of the room.
I even lie to myself.  I fell in love with him the moment he stepped
from the ship to the dock.  The jealousy was already making a home in
my breast as I stood with the crowd, watching as he sucked at Maglor's
throat with Erestor pressed against his back.  I wanted him then, and
by the time I had him in my bed, I would have agreed to anything to
keep him there.

And agree I did.

I draw my legs to my chest and rest my forehead against my knees.  The
sheet that covers them smells of David's scent, which drives another
dagger into my aching heart.  I cannot blame him.  No, I do blame
him...  Oh, I do not know whom I blame.  All I know is, by the full
moon of Ivanneth that year, David was kissing me sweetly and I was
nodding, giving him permission to lay with Maglor and Erestor.

Tonight was the fourth Ivanneth since their return.  I have endured
each anniversary, smiling as David leaves my side to spend an evening
at theirs.  He always returns just as dawn breaks, smelling of lilies
and spice, smelling of Erestor and Maglor.

I have grown to resent them, the two Elves who still keep my lover's
heart.  More tears fall, wetting the sheet, making it stick to my
knees.  I gaze at the smear of black over the white: my hair spread
over the linens.  I wonder, not for the first time, if David closes
his eyes as I take him from behind and imagines that it is one of
them.  My hair is as long and as dark as theirs, and the thought
haunts me -- even now.

The anger seethes just under the sorrow.  We never discuss this yearly
meeting of old lovers.  He simply slips into bed, curling up behind
me, and as I quietly weep, he falls into a deep, sated sleep.  When he
wakes, I am already dressed and in our courtyard, busying myself with
some inane chore.  He wakes, bathes, and we go about life.

Within a month, my sense of betrayal passes and I become my usual
self.

Until the next Ivanneth moon.

I angrily wipe at the tears, but more come.

I know he kisses them.

I know he tastes them, swallows their seed as many times as he can.

I know he rests on hands and knees, allowing them into his body.

I do not know how I know; I simply do.

As I cry, I clench my hands into tight fists.  My nails bite into my
skin, drawing blood.  I hiccough, my nose running, and I smear the
blood over the damp sheets.  I look around the room frantically, not
quite sure why, and the sobs rack my body.  The anger, resentment,
bitterness and hurt fester, suffocating me with their intensity.  It
is a wound that I continue to scratch at.

Four years he has owned my heart, my soul, my body.

Four years I have shared his heart, his soul, his body.

Four years I have clung to my love for him, but the indignation I
suffer for my understanding is now smothering that love.

There will not be a fifth Ivanneth moon.

David is *mine*, and I will share him no more.

*****

The sky was just beginning to pinken with the first rays of dawn.  The
dark-haired Elf sat up in the bed, his nude body caressed by the cool
morning breeze blowing through the open windows.  His lover was just
entering the room, his hair damp from a recent bath.  He watched the
sandy-haired Man strip his clothing, revealing bronzed, toned flesh
under the cotton of his cloth.

His dark eyes followed the bronze figure as he mounted the bed,
crawling in beside the Elf.  Warm, soft hands touched his face, turned
him to meet that steady hazel gaze.  With that gentle touch, the
resolve and determined resistance he'd built up bled out of him, just
as it had every year past.

"Melethen?" the Man asked quietly.

Lindir smiled, wiping a lone tear from his cheek.  "I am all right."

"Have you slept at all tonight?" David asked.

The Elf shook his head.

"You wept."

The Elf nodded his head.

"Why?" David whispered, kissing Lindir's lips softly.

"On these nights it seems as if you will never be mine," Lindir
admitted, turning away from David.

He forced Lindir to face him.  David looked up into his lover's eyes.
"I am forever yours, though I may be theirs for one day out of a
turning of this world."

"Why must you be theirs at all?" Lindir nearly sobbed.

David sighed.  "Does it bother you so much that you cannot give us one
night?  One night, when you have all the others?"

"Maedhros cannot enjoy sharing his brother with you and Erestor,"
Lindir accused.

"And yet he does not stop us.  If you want me to stop these yearly
visits with them, Lindir, just say so and I will.  I love you, even
more than I love them.  I never thought it was possible, but there you
have it.  I love you more than I love them."  David sighed, staring
down at his folded hands.  "I will not sleep with them next year if it
upsets you so much."

Lindir let out a savage cry as he pushed David onto his belly.  "They
have had you.  I know you.  You do not take them; no one takes them
other than Maedhros and Glorfindel, but they take you.  There is
nothing of you that is mine, David!"

David did not protest, just remained still under Lindir's weight.

"Say something!  Not your body, not your heart, not your love!  None
of it is mine alone," Lindir cried.

"I have offered to stop the yearly tryst, Lindir, if you would simply
tell me to.  You have not asked, and I will not offer it.  Ask me."

Lindir snarled.  "Why should I *have* to ask?  You should want *me*,
David, as I want you!  I do not allow any other to touch my body, why
do you?"

"Because I love them and they love me," David answered.

The Elf's soft hair brushed David's back as he bowed his head.  "I
want you for my own," Lindir whispered.  His eyes moved to the table
beside the bed where a shallow dish sat over a warmer.  The candle had
died long before, but the oil would still be warm.  He reached over,
dipping two fingers into the liquid.  "I want to be the only one to
touch you here," he hissed, sliding two fingers into David's passage,
knowing how sore his lover would be.

David called out, drawing his legs under him and inching away from
Lindir's intrusive fingers.  "No, Lindir.  Not now.  I ache."

Lindir pressed down on David's back, preventing him from moving any
further from him.  He moved his fingers inside David, scissoring them,
spreading him, feeling the slickness of other fluids.  "I know you
ache.  You ache for days following your tryst.  I have humored you for
four years; I will humor you no more.  Tell me to go, and I will.  I
will walk from this house and not return.  If you do not tell me to
leave, then spread your legs and ask me to take you."

The fingers continued to piston in and out of his body, and David bit
his lip to keep from crying out.  He was hard already, his sac sore
from becoming aroused so soon after an orgasm.  David could not tell
Lindir to leave.  He loved the Elf deeply and did not want to lose
him.  Erestor and Maglor would understand; their yearly night of
bodily pleasure would have to cease.  He took in a shaky breath and
parted his thighs.  "Will you take me?" he asked, his cheeks flushed
painfully as he asked.

Lindir withdrew his fingers, gathering more oil onto them and adding
the lubrication to his length.  He was not as thick as many Elves, but
he was long.  He positioned himself behind David and thrust forward,
penetrating him completely in one smooth movement.  He felt David's
muscles spasm around his shaft as the Man screamed to the dawn.
Lindir did not wait, but pounded into David mercilessly.

David clutched at the sheets, burying his face in the pillow, as the
force of Lindir's thrusts rocked him.  His cock throbbed in time with
his backside, and he wanted to reach under him, stroke his erection in
the same frantic pace with which Lindir took him.  He didn't dare,
though, waiting instead for Lindir to offer him the release.

The Elf dug his fingers into David's hips, pulling David almost
violently back as he pushed forward.  His orgasm came too quickly, but
Lindir let go, allowing his release to consume him in a wave of
red-hot emotion.  David was *his*.

He sat back, watching his seed drip slowly from David's abused
opening.  The small pucker of flesh was red and swollen, smeared with
oil and semen, but a self-satisfied smile crossed Lindir's face as he
stared at the creamy fluid slipping down the crevice of David's
backside.  He then noticed David was trembling, his heavy cock visible
between his spread legs and tightly drawn sac.  "You want release."

"Yes," David replied hoarsely.

Lindir smiled, sitting back at the foot of the bed.  "Turn around and
kneel in front of me."

David moved slowly, wincing as he pulled a muscle the wrong way.  He
knelt in front of his lover, hard and aching.

"Touch yourself," Lindir commanded in a low voice, his eyes flashing
in the early morning light.

The Man swallowed visibly, lifting his hand and wrapping it around his
cock.  He stroked himself slowly at first, gaining speed the longer he
took to reach completion.

"Spread your legs more, and lean back some," Lindir instructed, his
eyes focused on the motion of the hand over hard flesh.

David flushed in shame, doing as his lover wanted.  He parted his
thighs further, and when he leaned back on one hand while the other
continued to pump at his erection, he knew the adjusted position
offered Lindir a view of his sac and the occasional drip of seed from
his backside.  It was embarrassing, but also arousing, and his shaft
throbbed with a more acute need.

"Come for me," Lindir whispered in the stillness of the bedroom, and
he crept closer to David's quivering form.  "I want to see you come
with my name on your lips."

David's eyes were half-closed as he stared down at Lindir, those pale
grey eyes so fascinated by David pleasuring himself.  With his words,
though, a dam broke in him and a scream ripped through his throat as
his essence covered his hand and belly.  "Lindir!"  David panted, his
hand resting just below his softening sex.  He gasped when Lindir's
tongue lapped at the head of his cock, cleaning the tip of the creamy
fluid.  David watched through a sated haze as Lindir dutifully licked
the seed from his body, leaving tender kisses after an area was
cleaned of all cream.

David collapsed finally, his legs protesting their cramped position.
Lindir slithered up his body, purring softly with a triumphant grin on
his lips.  "You are mine," he proclaimed quietly.

"I am yours," David replied.

"No more trysts."

"No more," David agreed.

Lindir nuzzled David's jaw.  "I love you, David."

David embraced Lindir, holding the Elf close to his body.  "I love
you, Lindir."

And the dawn broke.

The End

Author Note: Well, it's over!  :)  I hope everyone enjoyed it. Thanks 
must go to Ilye, Fimbrethiel and Vesta for keeping me going on this 
storyline.  If it weren't for them, I would have abandoned the idea 
weeks ago.  Much thanks go to everyone who reviewed this story, 
which also kept me motivated to complete the story: Alex, Eawen, 
Elfscribe, LK, Neldluva, and Denise (sorry if I have left some out!). 
*waves*  Bye! -- November 13, 2004; 6:36pm EST