Title: The Dawning, 11/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir Rating: NC-17 Archive: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Melethryn, Library of Moria. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between males, incest, PWP, and some angst and romance. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: Yes please, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: This is a continuation of what has become a string of fics starting with "The Wager"; the Glorfindel/Erestor bug bit me again after a long respite. Since the string has been written out of sequence, this one follows "The Wager" chronologically. Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel have a talk, Erestor makes a mistake, Legolas and the twins return home. Legolas crouched upon a large rock, his ears trained upon the trees, his gaze searching ceaselessly for any sign of danger. He was weary, more weary than he had been in many years, and he missed his home. He worried for his father; if the Dark Lord's minions had been so bold as to attack Imladris, then surely they would attack Mirkwood. His home was not as safe as the hidden valley, and his father was a warrior king, one who rode first into battle. "Be safe, father," he whispered to the wind, hoping Manwë's wings would carry the request to his father's ears. "They are gone," Elladan said, as he slid off his horse. "If we left any alive..." Elrohir brought a sack of grain to Elladan's weary gelding. "The question is, what were they doing here, and did they discover the entrance to our valley?" Legolas shook his head, his grim expression not changing. "As uncharacteristic as this attack was, these beasts are just that, beasts – with a lust for blood and destruction. Had they found the entrance, it is certain that they would be bearing down upon it with all their might. You can be sure that the Dark Lord has not forgotten the destruction that elves and men brought to his own door." "But for so many to come at once?" Elrohir queried. "We have seen roving bands of yrch in the mountains and near Eregion, but never this far west, and never so many together. This does not bode well." "They are swarming the valley of the Anduin," Legolas said quietly. "Great hoards of uruk-hai scour the valley, but do not venture into the woods nor attack my kinsmen or the Beornings. It is rare for uruk to do anything but make war. This is part of the reason for my visit here, my father and I believe they are searching for something." Elladan closed his eyes and sighed. "The times change so quickly; the watchful peace is coming to an end. Soon, we will be forced to leave or ride to war." "I will never leave," Legolas answered. "This is my home, I will not let it fall to ruin; I will not run from the fight." Elrohir nodded. "Nor will we, my friend. Even if our kindred leave, we will stay and fight. We will ride with the Grey Company, as we have done for so many years." Legolas smiled and nodded. "Perhaps one day we will stand at the Black Gate as our fathers did and we will fight for the freedom of Middle-earth with the same valor." Elladan placed an arm around their friend and smiled. "Aye, my friend, and it will be an honor." * * * * Glorfindel gritted his teeth and tried to relay the events of that morning to Lord Elrond as the Peredhel stitched the wound in his arm. The herbs given to him to quell the effects of the poison were already taking effect and he was beginning to feel heavy. Elrond took note of his captain's report and instructed Erestor to take him back to his bed. "He will need a few days rest. Give him this tonic once more before you retire and again in the morning. I will instruct Amdír that he is in charge until Glorfindel has recovered." Erestor nodded and took one of the warrior's arms over his shoulder. "Come, Glorfindel, to bed with you..." "Honestly, Erestor. You really do have a singular mind," the Elda teased. Elrond chuckled as Erestor groaned in exasperation, and he shook his head as he returned to tending to the wounded. As they ascended the staircase, Erestor shifted his burden further onto his shoulders. "Do try to walk, Glorfindel. You are a bit heavy for me to carry the rest of the way..." "Did you miss me?" Glorfindel purred flirtatiously into Erestor's ear. "This is not the time, you oaf. Now walk before I drag you by the hair..." "Ooh... that sounds interesting. I do so enjoy it when you take charge." "Sweet Elbereth, Glorfindel. Stop being such a naughty elfling and help me!" "I am helping. I cannot help it that my legs do not... oh!" Glorfindel's knees buckled and he landed in a heap at Erestor's feet. "What was in that tonic?" he asked, his words slurring. "By the Valar..." Erestor grumbled. "You never could handle your spirits well..." He grasped Glorfindel under the arms and dragged him the rest of the way to his room. A smile curved his lips as he watched the warrior's golden head bobbing and swaying to and fro, soft mumbling and giggles escaping his lips. "I can only imagine the mood you are going to be in if you remember this, you do so hate to look undignified," Erestor mused. He fumbled with the latch and opened the door, kicking it open with one booted foot as he dragged the warrior in through the doorway. "You look as though you could use a hand." Erestor looked back to the doorway to see Lindir standing there, his arms folded across his chest. "I could. Please..." Lindir smiled and entered Glorfindel's chamber. "I went to the healer's quarters as soon as I heard to see if I could be of help. Lord Elrond suggested that you might be needing help getting Glorfindel into the bed. He was smiling quite strangely when he said so..." Erestor chuckled. "Where were you a few moments ago when I was dragging him down the hallway? Come. Help me get him onto the bed." Lindir took one arm and Erestor the other, with a grunt they heaved the sedated Elda into his over-large bed. Lindir took one boot and Erestor the other, as they began divesting the warrior of his battle stained clothing. They made quick work of it, and Lindir tossed Glorfindel's muddy boots by the door as Erestor found a nightshirt to put on him. Lindir smiled and bowed his head, bidding Erestor a good night as he watched the councilor tuck the warrior into bed. "I am most pleased that he was not harmed too badly," he said softly. "Thank you, Lindir," Erestor answered. "I will be about my work now. I am going to write a lament for those of our kindred who have fallen. Lord Elrond wants to have a ceremony for them as soon as the others return." Erestor nodded and bowed his head in return, watching as the minstrel quietly closed the door behind him. He turned his attentions to his lover, who was sleeping peacefully, a smile spread across his lips. Erestor brushed a lock of hair from Glorfindel's face, his fingertips softly exploring the warrior's face and ears. When he thought of what could have happened, when he tried to imagine Glorfindel's body lying upon the pyre, panic seized him. "I cannot lose you again, Glorfindel. No matter what happens between us, whether we learn to live together or no, as long as you walk this earth, as long as you draw breath, I will be comforted, even if we cannot be together..." he whispered. He lay down beside his lover, his head resting on Glorfindel's shoulder. * * * * His dreams returned that night. This time he was in Eregion. The city burned around them, elves were fleeing the city, heading north as the ranks of Elrond made safe their passage. There was no Balrog this time; there was something far worse, more evil, more dangerous than even the darkest of Morgoth's beasts. He saw evil incarnate break through the lines before the gate. Proud Númenor and Noldor fell and fled before him, dying by the score. He was riding straight for Elrond, for the one that dared to turn him away from Lindon, for the one that dared to stand against him with the Númenor. Glorfindel, sworn to protect the descendant of his great king, put himself between Elrond and Annatar and confronted the devil himself. Annatar charged him on his great black horse and Glorfindel pulled him from the horse's back. Fear choked him as he watched Glorfindel grapple with Sauron himself. They were surrounded; Glorfindel was unarmed and taken captive. Erestor's cry split the air; roused by its fierceness he and Elrond led the charge. The Elves of Imladris and the warriors of the Númenor closed upon them and Sauron was driven back and Glorfindel rescued. His best friend slipped into a state of unconsciousness, and amidst the battle cry of the Noldor and the Númenor as they rallied and drove Sauron and his hoard from the city, he held his friend's head in his lap and wept. He pleaded with Mandos to return him again, or to take him as well. Erestor sat up in Glorfindel's bed, his heart hammering its insistent rhythm, his skin beaded in a cold sweat. He looked to see his lover lying beside him, his chest rising and falling slowly in his sleep. Glorfindel murmured, "Erestor..." Erestor placed a kiss upon Glorfindel's whispering lips. "I am here, my love..." * * * * Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas returned with the remainder of Glorfindel's patrol. Legolas slid from his horse and rubbed her muzzle before sending her to the stable. He stretched and groaned quietly; he was looking forward to a good, long, hot bath, a warm meal, and a long night's rest in a soft bed. Lord Elrond came down to the courtyard to greet his sons. He embraced both of them tightly, holding on to them for long moments before releasing them. He turned and smiled at Legolas, who had a wistful look in his eye. "Come inside. Cook has prepared a welcoming meal for you and you must tell me of all you saw." Legolas smiled and followed Elrond and his sons into the Last Homely House. * * * * "I am fine, Erestor," Glorfindel grumbled. His lover stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. "I would very much like to sit down at the table and eat a meal like a normal member of this household. Please, I do not want to argue with you." "Why not? It is something you are becoming increasingly good at." Glorfindel opened his mouth to answer then shut it abruptly. He took a deep breath then continued. "Have I done something to offend you? You seem quite hostile toward me as of late." "Perhaps I am growing weary of looking after you as though you were an elfling." Glorfindel stared at his lover in disbelief. He was vaguely aware of his mouth hanging open, of the warm coloring of his cheeks, and of the tremor in his hands. "I do not believe I asked you to," he responded coldly. "If I do not, then who will? It is what I have done most of my life. Really, Glorfindel, you are a walking disaster. You charge into things without the slightest concern for the consequences, you put yourself in harm's way..." "That is my vocation!" he barked. "This is nothing new, Erestor. I am a soldier; I have always been a soldier. I cannot afford the luxury of retrospection in battle, I have to charge ahead!" He threw up his hands. "For Elbereth's sake! You have been a soldier, you know what it is to fight, you know perfectly well what I am talking about!" "There is no need to shout..." "Yes there is! What is the matter with you? One would think that you believe I got injured just to spite you or to get your attention..." Erestor cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. "I cannot believe this," Glorfindel replied. "You actually think this was some sort of ploy on my part? Do you think I arranged the ambush and death of my soldiers as well?" "No," Erestor replied quietly. "But I asked you not to go, in fact, I begged you. I warned you that something would happen and you treated me as if I were some hysterical she-elf. Now look, you sit there wounded and still you find fault with me." "I do not understand this," Glorfindel murmured. "What would you have me do? I can only be what I am, Erestor." "I would have you treat me as I treat you, I would have you consider what it is that those who love you go through when you charge into these situations. I swear, some days I wonder if you are not still seeking Mandos' Halls." Glorfindel stared blankly at his lover then closed his eyes. Erestor knew the moment the words passed his lips he was wrong to say them. His admission of love was lost to the accusation. He tried to tell Glorfindel he loved him but instead, he wounded him. "Perhaps you are right," Glorfindel murmured. "Maybe I really should stay in bed for another day. You go on to the banquet hall; please give my condolences to Lord Elrond." "Glorfindel... I'm..." "You will be late. You should go." "I do not want to." "I want you to. Please, Erestor. I cannot do this, I cannot do this anymore. I do not know what you want from me... I cannot..." He sighed and laid down, turning his back to his lover. Erestor closed his eyes and turned on his heel, gathering his composure as he made his way to the banquet hall. To be continued... Title: The Dawning, 12/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir Rating: NC-17 Archive: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Melethryn, Library of Moria. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between males, incest, PWP, and some angst and romance. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: Yes please, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: This is a continuation of what has become a string of fics starting with "The Wager"; the Glorfindel/Erestor bug bit me again after a long respite. Since the string has been written out of sequence, this one follows "The Wager" chronologically. Summary: Erestor tells Glorfindel a secret, Glorfindel makes a confession, Legolas dreams of happier times. Erestor spent the evening wearing a calm expression of neutrality but inside his emotions were raging, swinging violently between anger, fear and regret. He had always known he had a sharp tongue, it was one of his faults. But as he had spent his youth under the tutelage of Aredhel he had learned to temper his words with tact and forethought; it had been many years since he had lashed out verbally at anyone. As a soldier, he had been honorable and brave, yet reluctant. He fought bravely and skillfully; he was one of the best among his peers, yet fear and revulsion had ever been present during battle. He had always wanted to be a librarian or a statesman, not a warrior; but he had heeded Glorfindel's advice that the world could be dangerous and he needed to know how to defend himself. Glorfindel had taught him how to wield a sword and fire a bow when they were young, though Erestor oftentimes equaled his teacher in these things. Once his prowess was discovered, he was swept up into the ranks of Fingolfin's guard and reluctantly established a reputation as a fearsome warrior and one as a trusted friend. He wondered why he suddenly felt so much anger toward Glorfindel. It was not as if he did not have the power to refuse him. It was not as if he did not have the ability to choose his own path in life. As he sat in the Hall of Fire, listening to the haunting and beautiful lament that Lindir sang for their fallen comrades, he closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting to the days of his youth. He and Glorfindel became friends after the tall, golden-haired elf caught his attention during their schooling; he was immediately attracted by Glorfindel's sense of humor and easy going ways. Glorfindel was an elf that everyone wanted to be around, even when he was still very young. They became fast friends; Erestor's sharp intellect combined with Glorfindel's unabashed optimism and honorable nature made them a pair to be marveled at. As they reached their majority, they shared their youthful infatuations and their hopes and dreams. When Fëanor called upon his kindred to pursue Morgoth to the ends of the earth, Glorfindel had been one of the first to volunteer, and of course, Erestor would not be left behind. How much had changed since then. After many years as a warrior Erestor finally had achieved what he had always wanted – a position of statesmen, of advisor to one the most powerful elves in the history of Middle-earth. He spent his days wielding a quill among books and maps and illustrations of their history. He was a chronicler, a recorder of their lives and times on earth, a maker of policy; he had a peaceful life. Yet, did he really? With all the fulfillment that came from serving Elrond, from preserving art and history and all that was good about their existence, there was still always something missing. In his long, long life, he had never been in love. He had never felt the consuming fire of love burn his soul and set his heart to flame. That is, until now. He loved Glorfindel, he always had. However, now he was in love with Glorfindel, and that was a different animal altogether. He was consumed by doubt, fearful of losing him, jealously possessive of him, as if he were a precious jewel to be guarded and cherished. A wry grin almost curved his lips as have felt. However, Glorfindel was not his creation, not a thing to be hoarded or kept locked away. Glorfindel was fiercely independent, unerringly loyal, kind and giving, beautiful beyond the measure of his kind, even if he was as stubborn as a goat; Glorfindel was perfect in his eyes. How unworthy he felt of such an elf. Indeed, he doubted Glorfindel loved him in the same way. Glorfindel loved him, this is true, but it was a love born of long years of friendship and trust. If the Elda felt the same, would he not read it in his eyes? Would he not hear it in his voice? Would he not sense it with every fiber of his being? Once again, he found himself cursing the wager that the two of them had made. Now that he had a taste of what loving Glorfindel was like, he feared he could not go without it, even as his instincts told him to end it before it got worse. Lindir's lament ended and the attendees were slowly filing out of the Hall of Fire, heads bowed, blessings being whispered upon their lips. Erestor followed suit, his hands tucked inside the sleeves of his black robes, his head bowed and his blessings whispered to Mandos for the souls of the fallen. He stopped by Glorfindel's room on the way back to his own, there was no light coming from beneath the door and upon laying his hand on the handle he found it locked. He whispered goodnight to his lover and continued on to his own room. * * * * Horrible sounds greeted his young ears. He had never heard the sound of battle, never heard the sound of death. Running through the darkness, caught up in the flood of soldiers, he emerged from the trees to find elves fighting elves. His mind screamed at him to turn away, to run from this madness, but before he could heed the warning, he was fending off blows from a tall, slender, silver-haired elf wearing the garb of the Teleri. Spinning, slashing, jabbing, caught up in the mad dance of death, dealing out fate with his sword, trying to stay alive. He fought with vigor, fear transforming to fury in his confused state, and many fell by his hand. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his friend, dealing crushing blows, hewing limbs, his golden hair and silver raiment fouled by the blood of their kin. The battle was fierce but short and he found himself standing amid the dead, both Noldor and Teleri, covered in blood and the mire of battle. He was shaking, from both the heat of battle and the horrible realization of what had happened. His blade fell from his hand, ringing hollowly on the fell ground, and he looked up at Glorfindel. "Dear gods, what have we done?" he asked, his voice quavering. "What we had to do," Glorfindel answered hollowly. He staggered from the battlefield, reaching the tree line just in time to empty the contents of his stomach upon the ground... Erestor sat up in bed, sweat beading on his skin. He felt sick, sick and cold as the lingering memory of his greatest sin came back to haunt him. He pulled his knees to his chest and rocked back and forth in the middle of his too empty bed whispering words of penance to Mandos. * * * * "You escaped us once," the dark voice murmured. "You will not do so again..." "Let go of me," Glorfindel growled. "I will sever your forked tongue from your foul mouth!" "You will give me much pleasure, Noldo. Your pride has brought a fate worse than death for you, my beauty. You dared to defy me, dared to challenge me, and I will ruin you and ravage you in front of your friends' horrified eyes, then cast you out to be scorned by your kindred as one tainted..." "Unclean dog! Only a coward would do this! You are unworthy of such boasting! Make them let go of me and you fight me alone!" Glorfindel gasped as he sat up in his bed. He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes. "Nightmare..." he whispered to himself. "Damn that black devil!" he growled. Memories of the fall of Eregion had just began haunting him. For many, many years he had escaped the memory of Annatar's foul hands on him, he had escaped the sickening recollection of his empty voice and black breath. In the moments that Sauron had held him, the Dark Lord's blackness had reached inside his mind, caressing and molesting it, leaving a lasting impression upon his thoughts as his hands and mouth had sought to do upon his flesh. If not for the healing skill of Elrond, Glorfindel might have been lost to the darkness. Anger and humiliation raged inside him and his head pounded. He slowly rose from the bed and entered the bath, splashing cool water upon his face. A sickening feeling lingered inside him, but it wasn't from the dream. He remembered how angry Erestor had looked earlier, the accusation in his eyes and his words. Perhaps his friend and lover was right, only a fool would challenge Sauron to single combat. Had he not learned from Fingolfin's fall? He closed his eyes as he thought of Erestor, of his unrelenting gaze, of his pitch black hair and ivory skin. Erestor: his friend, his nemesis, his conscience, and now his lover. Glorfindel felt that he bore much of the blame for Erestor being in Middle- earth, instead of enjoying a peaceful life in Aman. It was his fault that Erestor carried the curse of the Noldor upon his head. It was his fault that they were to toil so long in repentance for the foul deeds committed upon the Teleri. The blood of their kin stained them both and he wondered if that stain would ever be removed. He wrapped his robe around him and exited his chamber, walking barefoot down the dark corridor toward his lover's door, heedless of the hour of the night. He reached Erestor's chambers and paused at the door. From inside, he heard Erestor's voice whispering softly, and he quickly reached for the handle but found the door locked. "Erestor, it is me. Please, let me in..." The soft sound of bare feet upon the floor was followed by the sound of the latch turning. As the door opened, he saw his lover looking pale and lost. He stepped inside and took Erestor into his arms. "What troubles you?" he asked softly. "I dreamt of the kinslaying," Erestor answered, his voice muffled by Glorfindel's robe. Glorfindel swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed kisses to the top of Erestor's bowed head. "Oh, Erestor," he whispered. "You suffer so and it is my doing. That I could pay for both of us, I would gladly make such a sacrifice..." "I took up the sword, I followed of my own will. You cannot bear this responsibility for me, Glorfindel." Glorfindel guided him back to the bed and slid beneath the sheets with him. He caressed Erestor's hair and murmured loving words to his beloved friend. Erestor raised his head off the Elda's chest and looked into his eyes. "I am sorry, Glorfindel. I am sorry I said such harsh words earlier. I do not believe you try to hurt those who care for you. But what you do frightens me..." "You have been a soldier, Erestor. Why are you frightened by what you understand? You know what it is like..." "That is precisely why I am frightened, Glorfindel. I do know what it is like. But unlike you, I loathed being a soldier..." Glorfindel furrowed his brow as he looked at his lover in disbelief. In all the years he had known Erestor he had never suspected that he hated being a warrior. "What?" "I hated it. Each time we went into battle I could feel the bile rising in my throat, the sweat slicking my palms... I was always afraid; I took no pleasure in killing anything." "Nor do I, but oftentimes killing must be done. I too feel fear when I go into battle, Erestor. It is that fear that keeps us alive..." "I have never seen you look afraid... even as Gondolin fell, or as you grappled with Annatar, or at the Black Gate. Always you look fierce and determined, as if fear is something foreign to you. You are driven, and what drives you is unknown and frightening to me." Glorfindel smiled wryly. "I may hide it, but fear is always there. I have to admit, after the fall with the Balrog death was not so fearsome. But there are things worse than death and I suppose that is what I fear most. I am driven, by something I do not quiet understand myself. Perhaps it is the desire for repentance, or for revenge, I am not sure which. I do fear the corruption of my soul, I fear losing my way, and I fear losing those I care most dearly for." Glorfindel furrowed his brow and took a deep breath before continuing. "Why did you not tell me this before, Erestor? All those years of military service made you miserable and you never said a word..." "I was trying to do my duty as best I could," Erestor responded softly. "I did not want to disappoint you or Elrond..." Glorfindel pressed a kiss to Erestor's eyelids. "You could never disappoint me, Erestor, nor would Elrond find fault with your feelings. He feels much the same way, I imagine..." Erestor nodded and tucked his head beneath Glorfindel's chin. "We have spoken of it. While he was a skilled warrior and brilliant strategist, he never relished battle. How are we going to deal with this, Glorfindel? How will I come to grips with my fears?" "You have handled them admirably all the years we have been friends, Erestor. Truly, I did not know how you felt until you told me just now. However, I would not have you keep such things to yourself from now on. I am willing to try to be more prudent if you are willing to try to trust me more." "I will." Erestor sat up and looked into Glorfindel's eyes. "What do you fear most, Glorfindel?" Glorfindel smiled and caressed Erestor's face. "Losing you..." he answered quietly. "I am a dull elf, Erestor. I do not know how to put what I feel into words. I know I say and do the wrong things, I know I am stubborn and unreasonable, hot headed and over sensitive; but I hold out hope that I can change and that you have the patience to see me through." "I love those qualities in you, Glorfindel. I love your stubbornness, your determination, your bravery and honor. I love your honesty and..." Glorfindel closed his eyes as his lips ghosted over Erestor's face. "And?" "I love... I love..." Erestor's words faded into a needful sigh. "This?" "Yes... I love the way you touch me..." Glorfindel shifted so that his form covered his lover's and he pressed a deep kiss to Erestor's lips. He felt his heartbeat increase as Erestor moaned softly into the kiss and caressed his back. There was no amount of lovemaking that could remove the weight on Erestor's soul, but if he could somehow diminish it, he would make love to him every hour of everyday for the rest of eternity. * * * * Legolas sighed as he sank into the soft mattress, grief for those who had fallen lay heavy upon his heart. He would never grow used to death and he supposed that was something to be thankful for. He folded his hands over his chest and closed his eyes, letting his mind wander into the murky land of dreams... He was running down the long, woven carpet toward the dais, his young, slender legs carrying him as fast as they could go. Behind him, Minuial, the scullery maid's daughter, shooting daggers into his back with her eyes and standing with her hands upon her hips; ahead of him, the safety and comfort of his father's arms. "Father!" he shouted as he climbed the steps and clambered into his father's lap. "Greenleaf, what is the matter?" "Minuial tried to do something nasty to me..." he whispered. Thranduil chuckled and stroked his young son's hair. "And what did Minuial try to do?" "She tried to... to... kiss me!" He buried his face in the crook of his father's shoulder, shaking his head back and forth as if to wipe the offending kiss on his father's robes. Thranduil bit his lip in order to restrain a laugh and patted Legolas on the back. "Legolas, what Minuial tried to do is not nasty. She was trying to show affection for you..." "But it felt strange... and the others, they laughed." "Oh, Greenleaf. The others laughed because they were envious. Minuial is a lovely young maid, they were envious that she chose you to kiss and not them." He looked up into his father's sapphire eyes. "Really? Did others laugh at you when mother kissed you?" "I was much older than you the first time your mother kissed me. The others did not laugh, but they were envious just the same." "Does this mean I have to marry Minuial?" he asked with fear in his eyes. Thranduil chuckled. "No, you are far too young to marry, Greenleaf." Thranduil lifted his son's chin and looked into his eyes. "You are a prince, Legolas. Your actions reflect on your house and on the throne of this realm. Others will look to you to be an example, and you must always act upon your own conscience, not upon the opinions of others. There will be times when this is difficult, but you must be strong. Do not be led by the cajoling of miscreants, be proud, be strong, and always do the right thing." "But how will I know what the right thing is?" "Search your heart, look inward, that is where the answer lies. Your mother and I raised you to be honest and brave; I know that if you trust your instincts you will not falter. You are my son, you carry my blood in your veins..." "And mother's too..." "Yes, and your mother's too. Make her proud, Legolas, in all that you do." He nodded and leaned against his father's broad chest. "Yes, father. I promise to try to do better." "I know you will. Now, go apologize to Minuial for being so rude, and try kissing her back..." "Yes, father." He climbed down from his father's lap and hurried back to the kitchens to apologize to Minuial... A smile curved Legolas' lips as he drifted deep into reverie, memories of home and happier times wrapping him in warmth and his father's love and wisdom. To be continued... Title: The Dawning, 13/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir Rating: NC-17 Archive: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Melethryn, Library of Moria. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between males, incest, PWP, and some angst and romance. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: Yes please, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: This is a continuation of what has become a string of fics starting with "The Wager"; the Glorfindel/Erestor bug bit me again after a long respite. Since the string has been written out of sequence, this one follows "The Wager" chronologically. Summary: Legolas returns home with an escort. Glorfindel and Erestor share secrets. The twins and Legolas talk about the future. The snows melted as spring finally came. Elrond put together a delegation to Lothlórien to bring Arwen home and to escort the prince back across the mountains to Mirkwood. Legolas' trip had been fruitful and relations between the realms of Mirkwood and Imladris were undoubtedly strengthened; Elrond learned of suspicious happenings east of the mountains, and Legolas learned of the history of the One Ring. Elrond gave his blessings to Legolas and asked him to carry the same to his father. There were dangerous times ahead for Thranduil and his people, as there would be for all good folk, and Elrond promised what help he could deliver. There were no further orc intrusions on their borders and Elrond deemed the realm safe enough for Glorfindel to lead the delegation to Lórien. The delegation would also include the twins, Legolas and his party, and Erestor. The advisor was being sent to meet with the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood as well as to carry important documents that were for their eyes only. The morning of their departure was bright if not a bit cool. The ground was damp from melting snows and the streams and rivers were swollen with runoff. The going would be a bit slow, but the weather promised to hold for several days. Elrond placed his hands upon Legolas' shoulders and kissed each cheek. "May your travels be safe and may we meet again," he said quietly. "Thank you, Lord Elrond, for your hospitality, for your friendship, and for your tutelage. I will not soon forget it," Legolas answered. He stepped back and knelt upon one knee, bowing his head and covering his heart with his hand, as was the custom of his people. Elrond returned the gesture, bowing his head and covering his heart with his hand. He then embraced his sons, admonishing them to be careful crossing the mountains. They embraced him in return and promised to return with Arwen safely in tow. Erestor checked his knapsack once again, to be sure he had everything he needed. The weight of his sword and quiver felt strange to him; it had been many years since he had worn either one. He looked over his shoulder to see Glorfindel receiving last minute instructions from Elrond and then he mounted his horse, giving a soft rub to her neck as he settled upon her back. "It has been many years since we have undertaken such a journey, my friend," he said softly. "I trust you will enjoy it as much as I..." His mare nickered and tossed her head, and he smiled in response. Glorfindel was the last to mount, swinging up onto Asfaloth's back with ease. He raised his hand and rode toward the gate followed by Erestor upon his chestnut mare. Legolas and his companions were next with Elladan and Elrohir bringing up the rear guard. Elrond waived his hand in farewell as he watched the small party ride through the gate and out into the valley of Imladris. * * * * As the westerning sun rose in the sky, the band of travelers cantered at an easy pace across the flat meadows of eastern Imladris. While they chatted amiably about the changing of the seasons, the upcoming mountain passage, and their arrival in Lothlórien, their eyes still scanned the trees and hills, ever vigilant for potential danger. They made for the High Pass; once reaching the Vales of the Anduin, Legolas and his party would ride east toward his home, and the rest would ride south, to Lothlórien. They would make camp at the base of the mountains that night, so that they could start the arduous mountain climb with fresh mounts the following morning. There was no avoiding an overnight camp upon the mountain, and it was that part of the journey that caused the most concern among the travelers. Legolas raised his hands high in the air as they cantered into the forest, his fingertips caressing the birch leaves that hung over their heads from branches that entwined. He loved riding his horse through the forest; it was a rare occasion that he could ride so peacefully and just enjoy his surroundings. Of all the experiences of his trip to Imladris, that was one of the things he would miss most, the peacefulness. The group slowed to a jog as the trail narrowed and as they entered the thick birch grove, then they slowed further to a walk to rest and cool their mounts before allowing them to graze and drink. A whistle that could easily be mistaken for a bird came from the trees and Elladan and Elrohir returned the call. "Is that the border patrol?" Legolas asked quietly. Elladan's full lips curved into a smile. "No, that was Estel. He is traveling with the Grey Company on return from Eriador. His life is about to change, though for the worse or better, I do not know." Legolas cocked his head and furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?" Erestor's eyes remained fixed on the trail in front of them as he answered in a solemn voice, "Estel is the son of Arathorn II, heir to Isildur and heir to the thrones of Arnor and Gondor..." Legolas couldn't suppress the gasp of surprise that escaped him. "Isildur's heir?" he asked in a hushed whisper. "He lives? I thought the line of Númenor had been erased." "So do many that would see it be so," Erestor continued. "We have harbored him as we have many of his line. Master Elrond raised him as a son, and soon it will be time to tell him of his heritage and of his destiny." Glorfindel held up his hand to signal that they would be stopping for the night, and the group scouted a location to make camp. The air cooled as the sun began to set, and the band of travelers busily prepared their camp. Legolas' companions gathered wood to build a fire while Elladan and Elrohir gave the area a once over to be sure it was safe. Legolas took the horses to the stream to drink while Erestor and Glorfindel began setting up camp. As night fell, the twins took first watch and the rest of the travelers settled into their bedrolls. Legolas, unable to sleep, rose from his place by a large tree and joined the twins in their vigil. As he approached, he saw them, shoulders touching, fingers entwined, sharing a quiet moment of affection. He paused, not wanting to disturb their moment of peace, but they soon spied him and Elrohir beckoned him with a smile and a crook of his finger. He climbed up upon a large rock and sat down next to Elrohir. "Our prince avoids the land of dreams?" Elrohir asked as he gently brushed Legolas' hair off his shoulder. "It appears so," Legolas answered softly. "We have but a few more nights together and I did not wish to waste them in reverie." Elladan slid over. "Come, jewel, sit between us," he purred in a low voice. Legolas did as instructed, taking a place in between the twins. "The Valar blessed your parents union," he whispered softly, "for having a son as beautiful as you could be nothing else but a blessing." "So much loveliness contained in one being," Elrohir murmured against Legolas' ear. "Anor's light shines in your hair, Elbereth's in your eyes..." "Skin as soft as the petals of a newly born rose, a voice as deep and haunting as the sea..." Elladan continued. "If my parents were blessed in having me, then yours were doubly so. To be gifted with such brave, beautiful and wise sons would make any parent grateful to the Valar..." Legolas answered in a soft whisper. "Oh that we could love you as you should be loved," Elladan whispered. "I am selfish, I admit it. I would keep you with us, kiss you and hold you and make love to you always..." "But your hearts belong to one another, and my own heart waits for its mate," Legolas answered. "As beautiful as you are, as much as I care for the both of you, we know this can never be." "But we can still care for one another, enjoy one another, for now," Elrohir answered. "For now," Legolas replied. Elladan turned Legolas' face toward him and kissed him deeply. Legolas opened to the kiss, allowing Elladan to taste him, their lips and tongues moving against one another. Elrohir slid closer, his arms wrapping around Legolas' waist, his hands moving over the soft suede of his tunic. He pulled Legolas' flaxen hair to the side, his lips moving over the flesh of his neck as his hands found their way inside the prince's tunic. Unable to do more than kiss and touch one another, the twins and Legolas spent their watch tasting of one another's mouths and flesh, and memorizing the feel of one another's bodies. * * * * Erestor awoke sometime in the middle of the night. Legolas' companions took up watch and he saw the prince lying close to Elladan and Elrohir. They huddled close to one another; the prince's head on Elrohir's shoulder, Elladan curled against Legolas' back. It looked so innocent, almost like three elflings snuggling together. Erestor suspected that the twins' relationship with Legolas was quite different from that of platonic friends, but it did not bother him. If it were not for the warmth of Glorfindel's body pressing against his back, he might be envious. He turned in Glorfindel's arms and gazed at his sleeping lover. Their road had been a rocky one; learning to live together as lovers was not as easy as he had hoped. But despite the arguments and accusations, despite the heated words and angry glances, they still ended up in one another's arms. A smile curved his lips as he gazed at his sleeping lion. Glorfindel looked so innocent in his sleep; his eyes were glazed with reverie, his lips barely parted. Erestor's heart swelled with emotion as he gazed upon his Glorfindel, his dearest friend, the elf who held his heart. In the months since they began their relationship Erestor had fallen deeply in love with Glorfindel, though he had not been brave enough to admit it. While neither had said so explicitly, they had forgone taking other lovers, and were faithful to one another. Erestor absently wondered how long this love had been brewing in his heart, for he fell quickly after sharing Glorfindel's bed. A love as deep and all encompassing as the one he felt did not appear overnight; this was no fleeting wave of emotion, no brief obsession. Glorfindel was the one he wanted to live his life with; he wanted them to be together always. He caressed Glorfindel's face, his fingertips gently exploring his lover's cheekbones, his strong jaw, his aristocratic nose and soft, perfect lips. A smile curved his lips as he watched Glorfindel smile and felt his lover draw him closer. He blinked sleepily as he gazed upon his lover's face, reverie slowly taking him again as the vision of his lover faded. * * * * Erestor felt Glorfindel stir against him and he opened his eyes. "Where are you going?" he whispered sleepily. "I am relieving Legolas' friends of their watch. It is nearly dawn, go back to sleep," Glorfindel answered. "No, no... I will get up with you." Erestor untangled himself from his bedroll. "No, sleep, lover... I can take watch alone." "I want to do it," Erestor answered. "Besides, I will not sleep well without you here." Glorfindel smiled. "Very well. Come then, let us watch Anor as she rises..." He held out his hand to Erestor and tugged him from the ground. Erestor stretched and groaned sleepily, then smiled at his beloved. "I cannot remember the last time I slept upon the ground." Glorfindel quietly chuckled and gently patted his lover's cheek. "You are spoiled, counselor. Too much time indoors behind a desk, not enough in the woods to which we all belong." Erestor retrieved two pieces of lembas and their flagons of water. "You always were a child of Oromë, Glorfindel," he said with a smile. "Born to be a hunter and a warrior..." "And you a child of Aulë, lover of knowledge and all good things that come from it. The world is a better place because of you and those like you, Erestor." Erestor smiled and followed Glorfindel to where Legolas' companions sat. His lover touched them lightly upon the shoulders and nodded, then smiled as they retired to their bedrolls for a few hours rest before continuing on their journey. He sat down beside Glorfindel and handed him his flagon of water and a piece of lembas. "Tell me, lover, what was that look in your eye earlier, when I said you were a child of Oromë?" Glorfindel flushed slightly and looked at the ground. "What look?" Erestor bumped him with his shoulder. "That look, the one you have right now. Why does the mention of Oromë's name cause you look so wistful and blush so prettily?" "I do not blush prettily," Glorfindel groused playfully. "Oh, but you most certainly do," Erestor insisted. "It is not quite as lovely as when you are flushed with passion, but it is very nearly so." "But I pale in comparison to you, my lover, whose skin warms and glows like coals in the fire. Passion transforms you, Erestor..." "You are changing the subject." "Yes, I am." "I thought we were to have no secrets from one another." "I will tell you mine if you tell me yours..." "I have no secrets." "Oh, but you do. You have never told me who deflowered you in your youth, despite my prodding throughout the years." "Really, Glorfindel. What is this youthful fascination with the identity of the one who took my innocence?" "Took, or was it willingly given?" "Alright, given... still you have not answered my question." "I will, if you will answer mine first." Erestor blushed and took a drink of water. "Fine. My first lover was Fingon, if you must know." Glorfindel's eyes widened. "Fingon? Truly? My, Erestor, you do know how to choose them..." "I will have you know, he chose me. It was not long before we departed Aman. Really, it was all your doing. I was practicing with my sword before meeting with you; Fingon was impressed with my skill and asked me who my teacher was. Before long, we became closer and several weeks later he took me into the woods where he became my second teacher." "And how long did you share his bed?" "Until shortly after arriving in Middle-earth. Now, it is your turn. Who was your first lover and why do you blush so when I mention... Oh, Valar..." Erestor's eyes widened. "Do not tell me... No, it could not be... Not Oromë?" Glorfindel nodded. "No! Not Oromë, though he did teach me many things. He rode through my parents' woods when I was an elfling. I would often sneak out of my bedroom window at night and climb into the trees to watch his passing. When I was old enough and brave enough, I asked him to teach me how to ride and hunt. He found my boldness charming and accepted. He was my friend for many long years. Oromë is the one who taught me warcraft, who taught me how to select, breed, and train horses, and he is the one who taught me what it meant to be a warrior." "He must have loved you in some way..." "We are all loved by them, Erestor. However, long years on this earth dull that remembrance. My father told me tales of the journey from Cuiviénen, how they followed Oromë's horn, how Ulmo looked after them, and how Aulë taught the Noldor when they arrived. They love us surely, even after all we have done, as does Eru." "Well, if not Oromë, then who?" Erestor asked again. Glorfindel shrugged and answered quietly, "Fëanor." "Fëanor?" Erestor repeated in surprise. "This explains many things. Why did you not tell me this when we were younger?" "It is hardly a thing that many I knew would have understood, Erestor. Our kindred did not look upon Fëanor with the kindest eyes." "That might have something to do with the disdain he held for our lord and lady..." "Admittedly, Fëanor had a ferocious temper, and oftentimes his tongue would be unleashed before he thought carefully about his words. He was a complicated one..." "What that must have been like," Erestor said softly. "To be loved so fiery an elf..." "I would not call it love, exactly," Glorfindel said quietly. "It was desire, nothing more..." "My relationship with Fingon was much the same," Erestor answered. "He was kind and a good lover, but he was not in love with me." "He was a good elf; he is missed," Glorfindel answered wistfully. "Aye, as all are who fell before us. I wonder..." "What?" "How different things would have been had Fëanor not been so consumed by his hatred for Morgoth. I wonder what the world would be like had he not sworn the Oath and pursued Morgoth to his own death." "So much changed because of that," Glorfindel answered quietly. "We would probably still be in Aman and this world would be covered in darkness." "To be Manwë would be a fearful thing. To know the fate of all living things, what a burden that must be." "Thankfully, all we need to worry about is each other and this place we call home. It is the hope that comes from the unknown that makes life worth living. Do you not think so?" Erestor smiled and laid his head on Glorfindel's shoulder. "Aye, I do indeed." To be continued... Title: The Dawning, 14/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir Rating: NC-17 Archive: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Melethryn, Library of Moria. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between males, incest, PWP, and some angst and romance. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: Yes please, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: This is a continuation of what has become a string of fics starting with "The Wager"; the Glorfindel/Erestor bug bit me again after a long respite. Since the string has been written out of sequence, this one follows "The Wager" chronologically. Summary: Legolas slays some orcs; our heroes are ambushed; Thranduil comes to the rescue. The journey over the mountains was arduous; the band of travelers had to be on guard every moment. As Elladan had observed, the end of the watchful peace was at hand and orcs prowled the mountain passes. It was just dawn as they began their descent on the High Pass and their horses picked their way carefully; the pass was primarily shale and the trail itself was unstable. Amid the sound of sliding rock and the soft breathing of their mounts, Legolas' ears picked up a familiar and unwelcome sound. It was not much later that both Glorfindel and Erestor heard it as well. Before the warning could cross his lips, his bow was drawn and a green fletched arrow was slicing the air. By the time Glorfindel, Erestor and the twins had their swords drawn, Legolas and his companions felled three orc scouts. The horses shied away from the falling carcasses as they thudded dully upon the ground. Glorfindel quickly dismounted, as did the twins, and inspected the bodies. "Scouts," Glorfindel growled. "There were only three," Legolas answered. "Are you sure?" Elladan asked. "Yes." "They are large," Erestor remarked, his brow furrowed. "Larger than those we encountered in Eregion or on the Morannon. "They look just like the ones that..." Elrohir closed his eyes, leaving the sentence unfinished. "I thought we killed them all," Elladan answered angrily. "That would be impossible," Glorfindel replied. "Unless we were to invade the orc holds and burn them all out." "Too dangerous," Erestor added. "There are more yrch than elven warriors." "Come, we cannot linger here, we must make for the Vales of Anduin. If we encounter more, I want to be on ground we can fight upon." As Glorfindel mounted Asfaloth, Legolas rode up and clasped his forearm. "These are the same yrch that have been prowling the Vales of the Anduin. They search the valley but do not enter the wood – they are looking for something." Erestor furrowed his brow and closed his eyes. "I have an ill feeling that I know what they seek." "We must hurry," Glorfindel insisted. "Daylight is waning." They scrambled down the mountainside, their horses slipping and skidding in the loose shale. Upon reaching the valley floor, Glorfindel turned to Legolas. "Ride fast for the cover of the trees, we will keep to the foothills as we make for Lórien." Legolas nodded. "Stay in the forest. Do not pause needlessly, and make no sound..." Glorfindel nodded and clasped Legolas' shoulder. "Be safe, young prince." "You as well," Legolas replied with a smile. Legolas' companions waited at the edge of the wood, their horses facing east toward the entrance to the elf path that would take them home. Elladan and Elrohir each rode forward to say goodbye to their friend. "Be careful," Elrohir admonished. "Do not stop until you are home," Elladan added. "Something sits ill upon me, I fear that a great evil is lurking here." Legolas smiled sadly and replied. "It is an evil I have lived with everyday of my life." He embraced his friends one at a time. "Ride fast, my friends, do not look back, do not stop until you reach safety." As they broke their embrace Legolas nodded to his companions and the twins watched as the horses launched into a fast gallop. Glorfindel began to signal for them to move on, but Elladan hesitated. "I want to wait until he reaches the trees..." Elrohir placed his hand upon his twin's arm. "What is it, Elladan?" "Something is not right here," he answered softly. When they were halfway across the grasslands separating the wood from the mountains, orcs began springing up out of holes in the ground, blocking Legolas' path. They turned to find more behind them, and all three elves quickly drew their bows and began firing. "Legolas!" Elladan cried, and without another word, both he and Elrohir charged from the trees, swords drawn. Glorfindel and Erestor followed quickly, Erestor drawing his bow and Glorfindel his sword. They were outnumbered seven to thirty. Upon seeing the approaching elves, the orcs faltered. Too many of their kind had witnessed the fury of the Sons of Elrond and Glorfindel's skill was well remembered also. As the battle ensued, a great cry came from the trees. Glorfindel looked up to see a regiment of elves, some twenty in number, come running and riding out of the wood; the King of Mirkwood himself led them. Thranduil held aloft a massive spear, carved out of the strongest Ash and notched with a count of his fallen prey. Soon arrows were raining down around them, each one striking its target with flawless accuracy and the orcs were soon retreating, heading back for the hills from which they came. However, the determination and reawakened fury of Elladan and Elrohir would not be satisfied with a mere victory. The twins made pursuit, followed by Legolas and his guard, as they chased down and killed what was left of those who had ambushed them. Glorfindel nodded to Thranduil as the king galloped past him on his massive black stallion. With a growl born of both fury and satisfaction, Thranduil snatched his spear from the body of a fallen orc and hurled it at the captain of the retreating orcs. Erestor pulled his sword from the body of an orc with distaste and turned to see Glorfindel removing the head of the last orc standing in their vicinity. His chest heaved for breath and he felt the familiar dizzying sensation that he had always felt after battle. He closed his eyes and used his sword to steady himself. "Erestor?" His lover's soothing voice grounded him again and he opened his eyes to look upon Glorfindel. His beloved was splattered with black orc blood, his garments and hair soiled from battle. Glorfindel's upper lip still quivered from the ferocious sneer that would transform his mouth as he killed and his eyes still glowed dark with fire and fury. 'What a sight to behold...' he thought to himself as he looked upon his lover, 'it is the last thing one of these beasts sees – pity they do not see it as I do, both beautiful and frightening...' "Erestor, are you all right?" "Yes," he answered softly. "I am well." Glorfindel caressed his lover's cheek, feeling Erestor's cold skin gradually warm beneath his touch. He thought to himself that Erestor looked like the very image of death in battle – raven hair, pale skin, eyes that turned nearly black with fury. 'He may hate it, but hate it or no, there are few who can equal him,' he thought to himself. Glorfindel placed his hand upon the back of Erestor's neck as his beloved rested his forehead upon his shoulder. Soon the twins were returning, led by Thranduil and Legolas. The king clasped his son's head to his shoulder as they rode side by side, their horses rubbing and bumping up against one another. Glorfindel remembered his own father in that moment, how in his youth, one touch from his father's hand could make all the world seem right. Erestor righted himself as Thranduil approached, and he and Glorfindel bowed their heads and covered their hearts with their hands. "My lord," Glorfindel began. "We are most grateful for your assistance." Thranduil smiled. "And I am most grateful that you rode to my son's aid, rather than leave him to his fate." "We could never have done that, my lord," Elladan insisted. Thranduil smiled and nodded. "I am in your debt because of it. But come, it is not safe to linger here. We must return to the woods quickly; there will be more yrch to replace the ones we killed." "Begging your pardon, my lord, but we make for the Golden Wood. We are on errand at the behest of Master Elrond," Erestor answered. "Not this day, my friend," Thranduil replied. "The Vales are not safe and night comes quickly. You will spend the night in my camp, let your horses recover their strength, and set out in the morning. I will provide escort through my woods as far as Sîr Ninglor*; the yrch have not yet ventured south of that point. From there, your journey to Lórien will be relatively safe." "Thank you, my lord," Glorfindel answered. "We are grateful for your assistance." Thranduil answered, "It is the least I can do in exchange for your protection and escort of my son." Glorfindel and company followed Thranduil into the darkness of Mirkwood. * * * * Glorfindel leaned against the trunk of a massive oak, watching Thranduil from the shadows. The king sat upon a fallen log near the fire, carving notches in the staff of his spear with his long knife. It was a formidable weapon wielded by a formidable elf. Taller than the king, who was taller than average himself, its shaft was made of Ash and was worn from years of combat. The spear tip gleamed in the firelight, having been freshly oiled. The long staff was thick; on the base end was a braided leather grip with eagles' feathers secured by long strips of leather. Midway down the length of the staff was another braided leather grip; on each side of the grip, the shaft was notched. One look told the observer that the weapon had brought down many foes. Glorfindel recognized the weapon as the one Oropher had carried with him upon the Morannon. Legend had it that the Dwarves of Belegost had made the spear for Mablung and it had passed to his kinsman Oropher upon his death. He remembered Thranduil going into the Dead Marshes to seek his father's slain body and only returning with the spear. "You remember this weapon, do you not?" Thranduil asked his watcher. "Aye," Glorfindel answered. "It served my father well for many years, though it did not save his life. It has served me since he fell and it will serve Legolas after I am gone from this world." "You plan on dying, my lord? A wry grin curved Thranduil's lips. "One never knows what fate awaits them, Glorfindel. Only Manwë knows the end to all things. Of course, you know this yourself, being the only one to travel the path in both directions." Glorfindel nodded in agreement and approached Thranduil, sitting beside him near the fire. "Tell me, my lord, have you never thought of sailing West?" "Nay. My home is here, it is where I was born and where I will die, should that day come." "And Legolas?" "That decision is up to my son. For now, he seems content to remain and fight to protect our home." Thranduil looked up at Glorfindel. "We both know that Men cannot save it alone, nor do they have the wisdom to reject the seduction of the Dark Lord... Isildur proved that." Glorfindel nodded. "My father died protecting this world from the Dark Lord's terror, and his death was for naught. The One Ring was not destroyed and as long as it exists, danger will ever be present. I will not abandon my home to his malice, I will not run from a fight." Glorfindel smiled grimly. "Like you, I do not know how to run. I often wish I could just ride West, board the ship and return to the land of my birth. But I have fought upon these grounds nearly my whole life; I know not how to run." Thranduil nodded and passed a cup of tea to Glorfindel. "You are a warrior after my own heart, Glorfindel." Glorfindel smiled and nodded, accepting the cup with a bow of his head. * * * * Erestor lay upon his bedroll staring into the darkness as he listened to Glorfindel speaking with Thranduil. A pang of envy pierced his heart. He wished he could bond with Glorfindel on that level, that he could understand and share his passion for his chosen duty. Thranduil and Glorfindel were two of a kind, fearless, brave and honorable. What was he but a staid advisor and librarian? He could never be like the beautiful and bold Thranduil; he would never be a fierce warrior. His was a world of parchment and ink, of books and tapestries, not swords and bows. He rolled to his back and stared up into the trees, trying to banish these thoughts from his mind. As he gazed into the darkness, he could make out a vague shape high up in the branches. He squinted and tried to pierce the veil of darkness with his sight. He sat up on his elbows and looked closer; his eyes widened, for the sight before him was something he could never have imagined. He heard one of Thranduil's sentinels cry out, "Ungol!" and he covered his face with his arm as branches began raining down upon him. To be continued... *Sîr Ninglor = Elvish name for Gladden River Title: The Dawning, 15/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir Rating: NC-17 Archive: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Melethryn, Library of Moria. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between males, incest, PWP, and some angst and romance. Some graphic violence and torture implied in this chapter. Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I am sure he would be horrified if he read this… Feedback: Yes please, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: This is a continuation of what has become a string of fics starting with "The Wager"; the Glorfindel/Erestor bug bit me again after a long respite. Since the string has been written out of sequence, this one follows "The Wager" chronologically. Summary: A battle amongst the trees; a detour to Thranduil's caves; Glorfindel and Erestor have nightmarish visions. "Erestor!" Glorfindel cried out, as he watched a massive spider drop out of the trees and land crouched over his lover. Thranduil was already on his feet, as were the rest of the Mirkwood Elves. Elladan and Elrohir were scrambling for their weapons and Legolas was already firing arrows at the beasts that converged upon them. A pack of spiders, some twelve in number came upon their camp. The leader, a large female was poised over Erestor, and Thranduil was engaged in combat with a smaller male. Glorfindel lunged for his sword but a small female intercepted his path. Even in the dim firelight, the creature was the most hideous thing he had ever beheld. Its skin was a pallid, leathery gray; wiry black hairs jutted out from its bony legs, and its multiple eyes were black as pitch. The creature's mandibles gaped open before snapping shut with a loud clack, and it poked at him with its front legs. He danced just out of reach of the spider's legs trying to find away to get to his weapon and then get to Erestor, who was fending off the largest of the bunch with a large branch. Erestor grunted as he shoved a branch nearly as big around as his head into the spider's gaping mouth. He rolled to his stomach and snatched his sword as he heard the thick branch snap in half as easily as a twig. He had just enough time to roll to his back before the beast pinned him to the ground with one of her forelegs, the talan at the end piercing his tunic and sticking him to the spot. He struggled to free himself as he tried to fend off the female's blows. Her mandibles snapped shut just inches from his face and he drove his sword into her stomach. As her blood began to flow, she uttered a scream the likes of which he had only heard once before. It was the scream of a being in torment; it sounded like the cry of the Nazgûl. A whooshing sound reached Glorfindel's ear and he saw Thranduil's spear pass by his head and lodge into the spider's open mouth. This gave him time to reach his sword and he heard the king cry out, "Stab her just behind the eyes or just under the jaw! You have to pierce the brain!" He leapt upon her back and drove his sword deep into the back of her head and she collapsed beneath him. He withdrew his sword in time to see a male rearing up to strike at Thranduil and he quickly threw his sword, striking the beast below the jaw. Thranduil leapt backward as the beast collapsed and shuddered before him. He spied the jeweled hilt of Glorfindel's sword and grasped it, wrenching it free of the spider's body, then turned as Glorfindel tossed him his spear and he, in turn, threw the Elda his sword. Thranduil saw Erestor pinned beneath the body of the massive female and called to his son. "Legolas! Help, now!" Legolas pulled his knives from the head of the small female he sat astride and ran toward the sound of his father's voice. The camp was in chaos, elves were being wounded, spiders slaughtered, but all Erestor could think of was getting loose of this creature's grasp. He growled in anger as he struggled and slashed at the spider's advancing jaws. Suddenly, she reared up and he was freed. He rolled to his side to regain his feet when he felt something pierce his flesh. First his limbs went numb and his arms and legs buckled. The numbness spread up his spine and he felt his body growing cold. He tried to cry out, tried to call for help but his voice failed him. Finally, he was paralyzed, unable to speak or move, unable to even close his eyes. He watched as battle raged around him, helpless to do a single thing. "Erestor!" Glorfindel cried as he charged the female. He watched her stinger pierce his lover's flesh, then saw her turn to protect her prey from being taken. Her first blow landed across his jaw, the sharp talan slicing open the flesh upon his cheek. A dull snapping sound echoed in his head as his vision began to fade to white. Her second blow came down hard upon his shoulder driving him to the ground and knocking his sword loose from his grip. He vaguely registered her screams as both Thranduil and Legolas fell upon her and he collapsed, his body falling across that of his beloved. * * * * "Faster!" Elladan encouraged Asfaloth as they raced through the dark forest. Now and again Ithil's light would break through the canopy and he would catch glimpses of the narrow elf path. All he could see ahead of him was Thranduil and Glorfindel's hair flashing in the dim light. Behind him, he heard the sounds of Legolas and Elrohir and the horses of Thranduil's guard as they charged through the night. "Hold on, Erestor," he murmured into his tutor's ear as he clasped him tight around the waist. He could feel Erestor's blood oozing onto his leggings and he whispered a prayer to Mandos that it was not his tutor's time. Asfaloth surged beneath him, as if somehow the horse grew stronger and faster with each stride they took. Thranduil held Glorfindel tight about the waist; his stallion flying over the darkened ground, Asfaloth following close behind bearing Elladan and Erestor, unwilling to be parted from his master. Thranduil was growing weary; focusing his power upon both Glorfindel and Erestor and giving power to the Elda's stallion was beginning to drain him. "Not much longer now, my friend," he whispered to Glorfindel. "I will not have you die so close to aid." They rounded a bend in the path and he caught sight of the caves. His powers enabled them to make what was normally a two-day ride in just hours. Anor was rising and he saw the gates opening. The palace guard were calling for the healers and rushing to their aid. "I cannot see them!" Elrohir cried. "They are up ahead, not much further now, Elrohir. Do not despair!" Legolas answered. Elrohir had not ridden so hard since he bore his mother back to his father. His mare was being pushed to her limit, as was Legolas' horse. Some distance behind them, Thranduil's guard was riding hard to keep up, but the power of the king made the lead riders impossible to catch. Thranduil's stallion slid to a stop in the courtyard and the healing staff rushed forward to take the unconscious Glorfindel from his arms. They hurried away; carrying the Elda on a litter as Elladan cantered across the bridge and into the courtyard. Thranduil quickly took Erestor from Elladan and ran into the caves with Elladan close behind. The stable hands attended to the king's stallion and an exhausted Asfaloth, leading them to the stables for water and care. It was almost midday before Legolas and the rest reached the caves. Both he and Elrohir dismounted and hurried into the caves as their horses were tended to. "How did they arrive so soon?" Elrohir asked breathlessly as he followed Legolas through the winding corridors. "My father's stallion is one of the Mearas," Legolas answered quietly. "And father has the ability to lend his strength to elf and beast alike. That is how Asfaloth was able to keep pace." Legolas slowed his pace. "Here, the healers' chambers." They entered a large room lined with beds. On the far side was the apothecary table, where the master healer prepared remedies. A long stone slab stood near by with a smaller table containing healing implements. Glorfindel lay upon it, the gaping wound on his face being stitched and poulticed by Elladan. Erestor lay upon one of the beds, the master healer was draining the wound in his side and they were placing leaves of athelas upon his tongue. Thranduil stood beside Erestor's bed, watching the healer go about his work. Elrohir rushed to Elladan's side. "Will he be all right?" Elladan nodded grimly as he tied off the last suture. "I do not know. His jaw his broken and the laceration was tainted with poison from the ungol's claw. He is already feverish. It depends upon how well the athelas works and how strong he is." "He is strong, we both know this. What about Erestor?" "I have no experience with wounds of this kind. I do not know..." Elrohir crossed the room to watch the healer. "Can I help? My father trained us in the healing arts..." The healer looked up at Elrohir and answered, "The wound is drained, the poultice and athelas will work against the poison. However, he is already feverish; the visions will begin soon. We must restrain both of them so that they do not injure themselves or anyone else." Elrohir nodded and began securing Erestor's arms and legs to the bedposts. Upon finishing, he helped Elladan secure Glorfindel as well. The tremors were already beginning and both elves began mumbling fitfully in their fevered state. Thranduil leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. "Father?" Legolas asked softly as he placed a hand upon his father's shoulder. "Come, you must bathe and rest, you are weak." "I would not leave them," Thranduil murmured. "It is my fault that they lay here..." "No, father. You could not have foreseen this. Ungol have never been seen in that part of the wood. You could not have known... If they had continued, they surely would have been ambushed by yrch on the road to Lórien." He tugged upon his father's sleeve. "Come, father. Come rest before you succumb to exhaustion." He led his father away quietly as Elladan and Elrohir kept vigil over their tutors. * * * * When the visions began, they came with frightening clarity. He was in a dark chamber, the floor, walls, ceiling, all bare stone. The floor was slick and glistened with a dark substance; with horror, Erestor realized it was blood. Torches blazed in the darkness, the smell of smoke and soot and foul things beyond his imagining permeated his nostrils. He was being held by men who had their faces covered and he recognized them as Easterlings. They held him tight; his ankles and wrists were shackled and he had a thick iron collar around his neck. He struggled against them, cursing them in his native language as they dragged him down a long corridor. He was brought into a large chamber where all manner of torture devices hung upon the walls and from the ceiling. He screamed in agony and horror as he saw Glorfindel shackled to the wall, his nude body covered in blood and lacerations. The Dark Lord himself, in his guise as Annatar smiled hideously as he drew his finger through Glorfindel's blood and sucked it off his fingers. He was struggling to get to Glorfindel, screaming his name as Annatar molested his beaten and abused body. He could see his beloved was still breathing, still alive despite the horrible torture that had been wrought against him... * * * * Glorfindel was straining with every ounce of his strength to free himself from his bonds. He was filled with rage and pain, unable to tear his eyes from Erestor's wounded and bloodied body. He cursed Annatar, promising him a death more horrible than anyone could imagine, when suddenly the vision dissipated like a cloud of smoke. In place of the horrible scene was nothingness: cool, calm, serene peace. He wept with relief and whispered Erestor's name. Though he could not see his lover he heard his voice and somehow felt his comforting presence. He allowed himself to drift into the land of dreams, his lover's voice echoing in his mind. * * * * Glorfindel was sedated so he could not further injure his jaw. Elladan heard him moaning softly in his induced sleep and saw tears trickle from his eyes. Erestor was begging to thrash violently, cursing in Quenya. Elrohir was thankful the elves present couldn't understand the old language for his words would have caused even the most experienced elf to gasp in horror. "How long do these visions last?" Elrohir asked, having to nearly shout over Erestor's delusional curses. "The athelas should begin to work soon," the healer answered. Elrohir, the master healer, and two of his assistants tried to hold Erestor down. The advisor let out a cry so terrible, so heart wrenching that every elf in the room blanched upon hearing it. He strained violently against his bonds and Elladan approached the bed just as Erestor dislocated his shoulder in the struggle. "Untie him quick!" Elladan shouted. The healer's assistants quickly untied the arm as Elladan, Elrohir, and the master healer struggled to hold him down. Suddenly, as quickly as it came on, the violent attack subsided and Erestor lay moaning in a pool of his own sweat. Elrohir and Elladan set Erestor's shoulder, hearing him utter no more than a whimper of pain, then bound the arm to his side. The master healer wiped his brow and quietly said, "The worst is over now. All that is left is to wait." Elrohir flopped onto a stool next to Erestor's bed, laying his head upon the counselor's hip. He fought not to cry, chewing his lower lip as he breathed deeply. This was too much like what happened to his mother. Elladan swallowed and took a deep breath, fighting back his own tears. He busied himself by checking on Glorfindel, who had also calmed. * * * * Elrohir jumped as he felt a hand upon his shoulder. He sat up and looked into Legolas' eyes. "Come, my friend," Legolas said softly. "You are beyond exhaustion, you must rest. They will be sleeping for hours yet, rest now so that you can be here for them when they wake." He tugged upon Elrohir's hand and pulled him to his feet. Elrohir looked at Elladan. He had not seen his twin look so weary in many, many years. Elladan placed an arm around his waist and they followed Legolas from the healer's quarters. * * * * Erestor gasped as his eyes opened; he blinked rapidly and looked around him. He did not recognize his surroundings and when he tried to move, a bright pain flared in his right shoulder. "You are awake so soon..." He looked up at a young, silver-haired elf dressed in a plain green tunic with an apron. "Try not to move your arm. You injured your shoulder and it needs time to heal." "Where am I?" Erestor asked groggily. "You are in the caves of King Thranduil. You and your friend were brought here when you were injured." "Glorfindel?" Erestor said nervously. "Right there." the young elf pointed. "It looks worse than it is really. He will be just fine in a few days." Glorfindel's face and shoulder were bandaged and he was sleeping deeply. "What happened?" Erestor asked quietly, feeling a pain in his side as well. "Your camp was attacked by ungol," the young healer answered. "You and your friend were injured in the battle and the king brought you here. No one is more adept at healing wounds from ungol than the healers of Mirkwood, my friend." Erestor shuddered as he remembered the spider attack. "May I sit up for awhile?" he asked quietly. "Certainly," the young elf answered. "I will have some broth brought to you as well as some tea." He gathered some pillows and helped Erestor sit up as he propped the pillows up behind him. "Thank you," Erestor answered. As the healer began to leave he reached out and caught his wrist. "May I ask two more things of you?" "Of course," the young elf answered. "Would it be possible to slide my bed closer so that I can better see and touch my friend?" The healer smiled. "Absolutely." "And I would like to speak with the Sons of Lord Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir, if I may." "I will send for them," the young healer answered. Erestor watched the healer speak quietly with a young female, no more than twenty-five years of age. She hurried out of the healer's quarters and the young elf attending him returned with two males more his own age. They moved the table that sat between his bed and Glorfindel's, then slid his bed over so that he was lying right next to his beloved. He smiled and thanked them, then reached down and picked up Glorfindel's limp hand. A smile curved his lips as the warrior's fingers weakly closed around his own. "Rest, my love," he murmured. "I will be here when you wake." To be continued...