TITLE: No Remedy AUTHOR: LittleMouse elf_night@hotmail.com PAIRINGS: Glorfinel/Erestor, also Haldir/Legolas, Elladen/Orophir, Elrohir/Rumil, Glorfinel/OFC RATING: NC-17 SUMMARY: Erestor loves Glorfindel. Glorfindel loves a certain Lady... doesn't he? A diplomatic mission to Lothlorien goes horribly wrong; Glorfindel learns what it means to be truly loved. WARNINGS: Violence, torture, angst, N/C but probably not to the point of rape, explicit sexual situations, etc. Enjoy! Also, story may be slightly AU as I'm playing freely with Erestor's background. DISCLAIMER: They are not mine. They are Tolkien's. Life is cruel, that way... CHAPTER SEVEN “What *is* this?” Elladan asked, voicing everyone’s question aloud. The bit of road looked like a battle scene - they could see where horses had fallen, and the prints of bodies in the mud. Yet there was no blood, and none of the bodies had been left. Even the horses were gone. Orcs might take the bodies, but there would be plenty of blood and broken weapons left behind. Here, there was nothing. “There aren’t any tracks beyond. At all,” Elrohir’s voice was oddly cold. “Our Elves went no further down the road - but there are tracks of Men further back in the trees. Tracks of Men carrying burdens.” “Tracks of very unlucky men, who will regret the day they were born,” Elladan corrected. Elrohir smiled. It was a particularly nasty smile, especially for an Elf. The twins were fond of all the Elves of Imladris, of course, but Glorfindel was their especial friend. He’d taught them to use the sword and to shoot with a bow, how to ride and swim and hunt. He was the Guardian of Imladris and they adored him. And Erestor - he was another father to them. The thought of something happening to Erestor made a far-away sick feeling start deep within them. They fought it down for now - they needed all their concentration on puzzling out what had happened here. “They were traveling at a normal pace,” Elrohir said softly, studying the ground. “They didn’t slow until they came around that bend in the road and saw this place. So they sensed nothing wrong.” Elladan, Legolas, and the other guards remained quiet, listening. Tracking was Elrohir’s specialty. “They slowed but didn’t stop - so they knew something was going on, but weren’t sure what it was. Then the front riders tried to turn back, but the horses starting falling, and the Elves started falling... there are tracks of Men everywhere. They are light when they come, heavy when they leave. They carried them away. They waited for the horses to get up... or wake up, I don’t know... and then led them away. Asfaloth broke free - his tracks follow theirs, but at a distance. He’s following Glorfindel.” “Which direction?” Elladan asked softly. He was going to make these Men pay... “North. They went North. There’s a small village there - and an old fort. It’s been abandoned for years, but I’ve heard some so- called noble Man took it over a few months ago.” “That’s where we’ll go, then,” Elladan growled. Orcs had taken their Nana from them, they would *not* let Men take Erestor. Or Glorfindel. “Someone is coming,” Legolas said, speaking for the first time since they had reached the scene. “Get in the trees,” Elladan said sharply, and they all vanished from the road. * Erestor waited silently, gazing at Araden. His cousin seemed nervous, now that he was about to talk to him. He looked everywhere but at Erestor, fiddling with his sleeves and the ends of his hair. Normally, Erestor would have said something calming to such a nervous Elf, but he didn’t trust himself not to make Araden’s unease worse. All his memories of the blond were bad memories - he couldn’t recollect a single good thing about him. At least, so far as it concerned himself. He knew he was a good son to his parents, and a good Advisor to Tharanduil, but that was about it. “I’m sorry.” The blond blurted suddenly, gazing hard at the floor. Erestor blinked. “For what?” Araden finally looked at him. Stared, actually. “For being such a foul little beast to you, when we were Elflings.” “Oh,” he replied, and waited for the rest. “You don’t sound the least bit surprised,” Araden said. He himself sounded rather peeved. Good. That was what Erestor remembered. He knew how to deal with *this* Araden. “Should I be?” “I expected at least a *bit* of surprise,” his cousin huffed. “You’re an Advisor. A Counselor. Others expect you to say what you think they want to hear, so long as it does not harm your agenda.” ‘Or sometimes, even if it does, so long as you get your way in the end.’ He couldn’t help the bitterness of the thought. He was quite sure Araden regretted teasing him about as much as *he* regretted letting Glorfindel touch him Which wasn’t a lot. “And you are the same, yet you do not speak what *I* want to hear.” “Ah,” Erestor smiled without humor. “I’m *not* the same; I’m the only Counselor in Imladris who doesn’t speak to please everyone.” “Yet Elrond and his family seem remarkably fond of you.” Erestor sighed, gazing at Araden through a mist of curls that were hanging in his eyes. He was tired - he was suddenly so very, very tired. “Is that what this is about?” “What?” Araden gaped at him; for such a lovely Elf, he looked remarkably like a fish. “No - Erestor, I... I took a She-Elf as my Bonded, a decade ago.” “How nice,” Erestor said blankly, not sure what to think about the sudden change in subject. “You didn’t know, did you?” Araden waited for a response, when he didn’t get one, he plowed ahead. “Do you remember how I used to call you a changeling, and said you were ugly, because of the color of your hair and your eyes, and you’re so small, and I told you there was no way you were truly of our blood?” ‘I’m not likely to forget,’ Erestor thought bitterly, remembering his childhood, with all the anguish an Elfling felt from the constant ugly taunts of his playmates and the family that was supposed to love him. “Yes.” “I knew you would. Two years ago - two years ago, my wife gave birth to our daughter.” “How nice,” Erestor repeated flatly. Another small-minded, mean- souled Elf to add to his family. He’d have to scrape up a gift. What did one send for female Elflings? He’d ask Arwen. If he ever saw her again... “She doesn’t have curls.” “Oh.” What was that supposed to mean, ‘she doesn’t have curls?!’ Of course she didn’t, only one freakish Elf in a million had curls. “But she is small, and very pale, and has hair like midnight and eyes like the night sky. She’s beautiful and I love her and I’m so very sorry I ever said a cruel word to you.” Erestor gaped. That’s all he could do. Every bit of training he had in the fine art of being an Advisor, being Lord Elrond’s best, Chief Counselor, all the layers of sarcasm and biting words he’d coated himself in through the millennia couldn’t help him right now. Because Araden hadn’t been the only one. All his Elfling cousins, most of the adults, had sneered and called him changeling, and wondered what his father was. On dark evenings, when he was supposed to be asleep, he had heard his Nana talking about him with the other mothers, sighing that his father had been a lovely blond, just like her, and she didn’t know where Erestor had sprang from; she sometimes wondered about the changeling tales. Maybe they were true. And now - and now, his tall, blond, perfect family had brought forth *another* little dark Elfling... What did that mean? “Are you all right? Erestor?” Araden reached out to him, only to have his hand caught and held. “Leave him alone,” a voice rasped, and both of the Elves on the couch stared up at Glorfindel, who looked only a little wobbly on his feet, only a tiny bit worse for wear. Riel was fluttering around behind him, but he only had eyes for the curly-headed creature gazing at him in surprise. He’d heard most of Araden’s apology, read a bit between the lines, and now his blood was boiling. So *that* was why Erestor tried to hide himself. Taught too young that different was bad... Been told that he was ugly, instead of the beautiful star he truly was. Well, he’d just have to convince him differently, wouldn’t he? “Come along, Counselor,” he rasped, lifting Erestor almost bodily from the seat. “You are tired. What happened to your face?” Once more an arm was around Erestor’s waist, and fingers were touching his wounded jaw. But it was mightily different this time, and he didn’t want that arm and those fingers to go away. Glorfindel led him to the bed he himself had just vacated and pushed him down, with another order to rest. Erestor stared at him for a moment, then turned his eyes away, allowing them to take on the glaze of sleep even though he wasn’t quite gone yet. He was tired, though, and it was easy than trying to explain what had happened to his face. He didn’t want Glorfindel to know what that Man had said to him. And he *definitely* didn’t want Araden to know. He heard Riel start squawking about something, but ignored her. He heard Glorfindel start questioning where they were and what was going on. None of the other Elves seemed to know why the Men had captured them; Erestor did, but he knew it would cause a panic if he spoke. He would tell Glorfindel... later... Right now, he needed to sleep. * Glorfindel was making plans with the few guards in the room when the door crashed open, surprising them. Men stood there, armed to the teeth and glaring. One impressively big Man moved to the front, staring straight at Glorfindel. “Don’t even think of trying anything.” He looked around the room, and his eyes settled on Erestor, who was still asleep. He wasn’t the only resting Elf, but the others were stirring. Erestor didn’t budge. That was worrisome. Did his smaller stature mean the potion had affected him more strongly? He’d seemed so tired, but Elves didn’t need much sleep. Glorfindel took a step toward him, but a lifted sword warned him back. He fumed, but he couldn’t do much when he was unarmed. The Man strode over to the bed and grabbed Erestor’s arm, dragging him off the mattress. The Elf blinked and then struggled to stay on his feet, looking no more rested than he had earlier. Glorfindel growled and nearly attacked anyway, when the Man dared to touch *his* Counselor! but he stopped when a thick finger was pointed at him. “You. Come with us, and don’t cause any trouble.” Eyes slid over the Elves, then he pointed to Araden and Lady Riel. “And you two. Come on.” Soldiers moved to take hold of the other three Elves while Ansel dragged Erestor along again. The small Elf’s sluggish response didn’t surprise him; he’d seen his Master give him miruvor. The tricky Man would have drugged it; the drink would wake him up long enough to make his intentions known, then the potion would put him to sleep while Master plotted further. He was actually rather surprised that the little thing could even focus - Erestor went up slightly in his estimation. He took the Elves back to the big room that Erestor remembered from before, with the Man called ‘Master’ sitting in his high-backed chair, surveying them calmly. None of them had a chance to speak, the Man froze them to silence with his first words. “Warrior Elves like you are much to difficult to handle,” he purred, looking straight at Glorfindel. “You’re nice to look at but not worth the effort, I’ve decided to put you to death.” “No!” All three of the other Elves cried at the same time, struggling against the Men who held them. “Oh, you don’t want me to?” the Man raised a lazy eyebrow. “Well, lets discuss this, then. Ansel, take the warrior to a holding cell. Make sure he’s alone.” “Yes, sir,” the other Man replied, and drug a protesting Glorfindel from the room - with the help of several other Men. The Man on the throne-like chair eyed the remaining Elves. “If I make them let you go, will you promise to be good?” He got three rather sulky nods as his reply, and waved a hand at his Men. “Let them go, and leave. Stay outside the door until I call you.” They obeyed. The room was very silent. “Well,” the Man finally spoke. “You don’t wish me to kill the warrior, but why should I not? I captured him, he’s mine to do with as I please.” At the glares he got in return, he chuckled. “However, I’m willing to make a deal with one of you.” Araden and Erestor exchanged glances, Riel just looked confused. “What sort of deal?” Araden asked, his voice suspicious. “Oh, just that I’m very fond of Elves. *Willing* Elves, if you understand me. Now, you three are the nicest of the whole group I have - if one of you comes to me, willing to let me do as I please, I’ll spare his life.” Araden gaped. Riel blinked. Erestor spoke. “What certainty would we have?” “Erestor!” Araden gasped, “you can’t!” “What certainty?” Erestor repeated, ignoring his cousin. “What certainty do you want?” the Man asked, leaning forward, his eyes hungry on the disheveled Elf. “Let him go.” “Let him *go*? To tell all the other Elves what is going on here?” Erestor shrugged. “How else would I know you wouldn’t just kill him later?” “You have a point... it’s not as if I’m not well-protected. Very well, I’ll let him go, and you can watch him leave.” He turned his attention back to the other two Elves, pointing at Araden. “You’ll not offer to save his life?” “I... I...” The blond Advisor looked sick, his eyes wild. “I cannot. I have already Bonded, even willingly, I would fade and my wife...” “Ah, I see.” The Man looked rather amused. “Tough luck for you, when I sell you, then.” Araden turned pale. “What of you? My guards tell me you wail over him like a lost lover?” the Man asked Riel. “You want me to *sleep* with you?! You’re a Man!” Riel looked disgusted. “Not even to save your blond warrior’s life?” “He would never want me to do that!” she replied, tossing her head arrogantly. The Man smiled at Erestor. “It seems you are the most noble Elf here, little one, beyond being the loveliest. Come here.” He held out his hand. Erestor swallowed. Bowed his head. Thought of Glorfindel’s blue eyes shining at him. And went.