Title: Winds of War, 21/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen (OMC), Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir Rating: NC-17 Beta: Fimbrethiel Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, violence, angst and incest. 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: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Seventh story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the late Third Age and continuing into the early Fourth Age. Galen is a name I am borrowing from a character that Khylaren and I have used before. This is not the same Galen, only the name is identical. Summary: Celeborn sends a rider to Thranduil with a message. Celeborn stood with his back to Haldir and Rúmil, turning their request over in his mind. "I am reluctant to send one of my captains on this mission," he said quietly. "My lord," Haldir began softly. "We have not the time for one who is unfamiliar with the realm of Mirkwood to seek the caves. My brothers and I are the only ones who have ventured far north enough to know the location of the path that leads there." "And once there, I can summon the king's falcon. She hunts the woods south of his home; she will lead me there," Rúmil added emphatically. Celeborn turned around and looked at Rúmil; he could see the captain wanted this mission badly. Looking at Haldir, he placed his hands on his hips. "And you? You are my senior officer; your brother serves under you. How do you feel about this?" Haldir looked at the floor for a moment, then answered, "While I do not wish to see my brother place himself in jeopardy, as a captain, I cannot deny that his plan is best. Rúmil is one of the fastest riders we have, and he can summon the king's falcon; that is something that no other could do. I believe his plan to be sound, and I support his request to bear the message." Celeborn nodded and looked up into the treetops. "I cannot send an escort with you, Rúmil. My sentries tell me that another assault from Dol Guldur is eminent, and I cannot spare a single warrior." Rúmil nodded. "I know the Anduin Vale, my lord. I know its hiding places and its secrets; I have explored it my whole life. I need no escort. I can travel faster without one." Celeborn turned and looked at Rúmil. "Very well. I grant you leave, but be sure you are not captured. If you are, you know what to do." Rúmil bowed his head and answered, "Yes, my lord." Celeborn looked at Haldir. "See to it that the borders are secure, captain. We have not much time before another attack is launched." Haldir bowed and answered, "Yes, my lord." He then departed with Rúmil and prepared to fetch Orophin to assist him. Neither brother uttered a word as they descended the winding stair that led from Celeborn's study. Upon reaching the ground, Haldir took Rúmil by the elbow. "Do not fall into their hands, Rúmil," he said earnestly. "Too much depends on you reaching Thranduil safely." "I will not," Rúmil answered, "but if I do, you must explain to Galen why I…" Haldir closed his eyes. "I cannot think of that, Rúmil." Rúmil placed his hands on Haldir's shoulders. "I cannot be captured alive, Haldir. Not only because of what I know, but because of what they would do to me. Is death not better than that?" Haldir closed his eyes and clenched his teeth as he swallowed. "Aye, death is better than that." Opening his eyes, he looked at Rúmil. "But I am not prepared to lose a brother." Rúmil smiled gently. "And I am not prepared to meet Mandos. Do not fear; I know what it is that I do. All I need is to reach Thranduil's borders; once there, he will move heaven and earth to protect me, you know this." Haldir nodded. "Aye, you speak true. The king would protect you with his very life." Rúmil embraced Haldir. "Do not speak of this to Galen. I will tell him where I am going, but I do not want him to know what will happen to me if I do not reach my destination. He will be worried enough without worrying about what might happen." "I will not," Haldir said softly. "Protect him, Haldir. Promise me that you and Orophin will look after him until I return." "We will." "I must go now. I cannot leave without speaking to him and time runs short." Haldir released Rúmil and cupped his cheek. "Ride fast, Rúmil. Do not stop until you reach the path." Rúmil smiled, then nodded. Haldir watched his brother run down the path toward his talan and he raised his hand and shouted, "May the Valar protect you, brother!" Summoning his courage and strength, Haldir turned and made his way toward the barracks to tell Orophin and prepare his warriors. * * * * "I do not understand. Why you? Why must you be the one to go there?" Galen watched as Rúmil hastily loaded his pack. "I am one of three who knows the way and the only one who can summon her," Rúmil answered calmly. "But Mirkwood? Why must you go there? Why must you go to…" He clenched his teeth cutting off the words before they left his mouth. The jealousy he felt made him sick, yet he could not deny that he had always feared that Rúmil had not completely let go of the Mirkwood King. Rúmil set his pack on the bed beside his quiver. He placed his hands on Galen's shoulders. "Galen, I am the only one who can do this. I seek only to aid my people and protect our lands. We need his help." "The Galadhrim do not need the help of a rogue band of Wood-elves!" Galen barked defiantly. Rúmil lowered his head and took a deep breath. "I cannot have you speak of him that way, Galen." He was pained by the look in Galen's eyes. "I care very deeply for you, Galen, you know this. I have not lied to you about my relationship with him or how I felt about him." He sighed. "This is not like you; this anger and fear is not like you, Galen. Please, I do not want our parting words to be in anger." Galen felt tears spilling down his cheeks. "You say that as if you may not return." "I will return, and with me I will bring the armies of Mirkwood. This is not just about you and me, Galen. This is about our people, our home. This is about purging the black pestilence that has plagued our woods for too long." "Lórien is pure…" "But Greenwood is not. Greenwood is where we came from, Galen. It was once our home before the Dark Lord invaded it. Those rogue Wood-elves you rail against are our kindred. Would you see them fall? Would you see what was once a grand forest destroyed simply because you do not want me to see Thranduil?" Galen wiped at his eyes with his sleeve. "No." "I will return, Galen. I will return to you." Galen wrapped his arms around Rúmil. "I am sorry I said those things," he whispered. "You are forgiven," Rúmil said softly. "Hurry home, please." "I will." "I love you," Galen whispered into Rúmil's ear. "And I love you, Galen." Galen watched as Rúmil gathered his pack and quiver. He followed Rúmil as far as the city gates, where Rúmil held him in his arms for long moments, then pressed a kiss to his mouth. "I will return soon," Rúmil murmured against Galen's lips. He then mounted his horse and galloped across the bridge and into the woods. Galen felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Orophin standing beside him. "He will be at the path by the fourth rising of Ithil. He will be safe then," Orophin said quietly. He tugged upon Galen's sleeve. "Come, we have a battle to prepare for." Galen followed Orophin from the gate back to the barracks. * * * * Rúmil found himself thankful for the speed and endurance of Elvish horses; Celeborn had given Rúmil his prize stallion to carry him to Mirkwood. The horse moved with blinding speed, flying over the ground in utter silence; Rúmil heard only the wind in his ears and felt the surge of the stallion's body between his legs. So far, he had escaped the pursuit of both Uruk-hai from Isengard and rogue bands of Easterlings being commanded by Dol Guldur. Twice he had been forced to consider taking his own life if he were captured, and he found himself checking for the phial of poison he carried in his pocket. Thankfully, Celeborn's stallion outran those who sought to capture him, leaping brush and stone while dodging arrows, and Rúmil escaped unscathed. The horse ran through the day and most of the night, stopping only to drink water from the river and take a brief meal of grass. He reached the path near the Forest Gate in four days, faster than anyone had traveled there before. He dismounted and gave the horse leave to drink and eat while he waited for Thranduil's falcon. The bird hunted in the early morning hours, when the small rodents it preyed upon were most active. Ithil was beginning her descent over the mountains and soon dawn would be upon them. Rúmil found a safe place, hidden by trees and thick brush, and waited. The tall grass by the river was the falcon's favorite hunting place. Like many elves, Rúmil had the ability to communicate with animals on a level that did not require spoken language. Between conversations with Thranduil and his own link to the bird, he knew her habits well. The mist was beginning to rise from the banks of the river when he heard her high- pitched cry. Looking up, he saw her hovering over the treetops, waiting for an unsuspecting mouse to venture out of its den. Rúmil stood and whistled; the familiar sound of her answer greeted his ears and he stepped out of the brush and held his arm aloft. The falcon glided gracefully to him, gently grasping his arm as she landed. He smiled, softly stroking her feathers and whispering to her. "I must see your master, you must take me to him." The bird made a soft clucking sound in her throat and rose from his arm. He whistled to Celeborn's stallion, who cantered to him from the meadow. Mounting the horse, he followed as the falcon flew above the path, leading him to the Forest Gate. To be continued… Title: Winds of War, 22/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen (OMC), Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir Rating: NC-17 Beta: Fimbrethiel Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, violence, angst and incest. 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: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Seventh story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the late Third Age and continuing into the early Fourth Age. Galen is a name I am borrowing from a character that Khylaren and I have used before. This is not the same Galen, only the name is identical. I know that it does not state anywhere (at least to my knowledge) that the Elves of Mirkwood participated in the attack on Dol Guldur; let's just say I'm taking authorial and creative privilege in including them. Summary: Rúmil arrives in Mirkwood. Rúmil approached the Forest Gate with Arphen on his shoulder. The sentries who guarded the path dropped from the trees, bows drawn. "State your purpose and tell us from whence you came." "I am Rúmil of Lórien. I have come with an urgent message for King Thranduil from my lord, Celeborn." The guards looked at one another and one whispered, "He bears the king's falcon." They gave Rúmil permission to enter, and the wide wooden gates creaked open. "I must make haste and go without your escort. Arphen will lead me there." The guards nodded then watched as he galloped down the path, following the low-flying bird. * * * * Thranduil was removing his gloves as he returned from an early morning ride when he heard the guard shout, "A rider approaches!" Quickly climbing the ladder to the talan where the guards could observe approaching visitors, he saw a large, gray stallion bearing a familiar figure. Above the fast- moving horse was Arphen, crying out as she dove to enter the caves. "Open the gates!" Thranduil commanded, and the large, iron doors groaned as they opened. Rúmil slowed the stallion as they came onto the bridge, and then trotted through the gates into the cavernous entry of Thranduil's Halls. Thranduil laughed as he caught Rúmil up in his arms and swung him around. "Ah, ‘tis so good to see you, my dear friend," he murmured into Rúmil's ear. Rúmil's heart pounded hard against the walls of his chest and he felt the beginnings of tears stinging his eyes. "It does my heart much good to see you, my lord," he answered in a trembling voice. The onslaught of emotion was unexpected; he had not anticipated feeling this way upon seeing his one-time lover. Thranduil set him down and caressed his cheek. A smile curved his lips as he saw Rúmil's eyes glimmering with tears. "I hope those are tears of joy," he said softly. "Tell me that you have not come bearing ill news." Rúmil nodded. "Aye, they are tears of joy. But I do bear news, whether it be ill or no will be for you to decide." Thranduil placed his hand upon Rúmil's back. "Come let me show you my home, then we shall adjourn to my study where you can tell me why you have come." He turned to the youths standing by and admiring the steel-grey, dappled stallion. "Amlaith, attend to Lord Celeborn's horse. See that he gets a fine ration of grain, then turn him out with my own." The young male nodded and bowed, then stroked the stallion's muzzle affectionately. "Lord Celeborn's horse," he whispered to himself. "'Tis an honor to attend you." The stallion nickered and followed the boy toward the stable. "You know my mount," Rúmil said quietly. "Aye, I remember him from long ago. Celeborn never told me from whence he came, but I suspect he is of the Mearas or perhaps of Valinorian origin. He is certainly no average mount, for he is older than both of us." "If it were not for him, I might be standing in Mandos' Halls rather than your own," Rúmil remarked as they entered the pathway leading to the main hall. "Then I am glad Celeborn had the wisdom to lend him to you, for you belong here, my friend, not with Mandos." They followed a long and winding pathway that descended underground. Rúmil found that he felt disoriented; the closeness of the walls and ceiling left him feeling stifled. At length, they entered a great hall with massive columns that seemed to hold up the rock ceiling above. The walls, floor and ceiling were all made of rock that was nearly black in color, its polished surface reflecting the light of the multitude of lamps and torches that provided illumination. Despite the fact that they were underground, the air smelled fresh and it was cool. Rúmil could hear the distant sound of running water, which lent an air of calm and peace to the caves. Thranduil's throne was near the far end of the cavernous room; it was a large, ornately carved chair made of oak and tufted with deep green velvet. Hand woven rugs covered the stone floor, and tapestries hung from the walls giving the room a more comfortable feel. He looked around the room as he followed the king, and they crossed through a doorway into another passage. "Is this what Menegroth was like?" he asked softly, surprised that his voice did not echo off the stone walls. "It is but a poor replica," Thranduil answered quietly, "built from what I can remember. The caves were here and we strengthened them with help from the dwarves, before the unrest between our peoples." He held open another oaken door and invited Rúmil into his study. "Menegroth was as grand and as beautiful a place as I have ever seen, far larger than these caves." Thranduil rounded the desk and sat in his large chair. "Now, tell me. What is this message that you bear?" Rúmil settled himself into a large chair across from Thranduil. "My lord and lady are preparing an assault on Dol Guldur. They seek aid from you and your warriors." Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "An assault? Do they have the aid of Mithrandir or Radagast?" Rúmil looked at his lap. "No one has seen nor heard from Radagast. Mithrandir has fallen; he was slain by a Balrog in Moria." Thranduil leaned back in his chair feeling his heart constrict in grief. He closed his eyes and shook his head, whispering a brief prayer to the Valar to guide Mithrandir's spirit. "How do you come to know this?" he asked softly. "A group of eight travelers from Imladris crossed our borders two months ago. Among them was Aragorn of the Dúnedain, Boromir of Gondor…" "And my son," Thranduil finished. "Aye," Rúmil answered. "They rested inside our borders for a month before continuing down the Anduin toward the Falls of Rauros. They brought us news of Mithrandir's fall inside the mines." "How was Legolas?" Thranduil asked quietly. "He was deeply saddened by Mithrandir's loss and seemed very weary, but Haldir took good care of him, and when he left his spirits seemed restored." Thranduil nodded. "So, Celeborn and Galadriel plan to launch an assault on Sauron's stronghold without aid of the Istari?" "My lady believes that Sauron is ripe to fall. She is not certain, but she says if they do not succeed, it will not matter, for all our realms will be vanquished. The Dark Lord's energies are spread thin. He is focused on Gondor and the ruin of Rohan; Lórien has fallen under attack twice in a fortnight." "And mine has been attacked, just four days ago," Thranduil added. "They believe the time grows near, and have sent me here to ask for your assistance." Thranduil lightly drummed his fingers upon his desk. "When do they propose that we attack?" "In five days," Rúmil answered. Thranduil nodded and was silent for a moment, and then he looked at Rúmil. "I shall be there with them." Rúmil smiled. "I knew you would come; I knew we could depend on you." "I, as much as anyone, desire revenge for the evil deeds done upon these woods. I shall see Dol Guldur fall, even if it is my last act upon this earth." "It will not be the last thing you see, my lord. I am confident in that." Thranduil smiled. "Are you hungry? You have ridden hard these many days." Rúmil smiled in return. "Aye, very." "Well then, come with me and I shall see quarters prepared for you, then we will feast together in the great hall." Rúmil rose from his chair. "I would very much like a bath." Thranduil chuckled. "That I can arrange," he answered. He drew Rúmil into his arms again and held him close. "It is good to see you, my dear friend." Rúmil leaned his head upon Thranduil's shoulder. "I have missed you." "I have missed you as well." He released Rúmil. "Come, let us see to your accommodations and get you into a bath." Rúmil followed the king into the corridor and toward the guest wing of the halls. * * * * Ithil was rising as Rúmil sat beside the Mirkwood King, sipping wine from a silver goblet. Preparations had been made, and the largest contingent of warriors to ever leave Thranduil's realm would cross the Enchanted River at dawn, rounding the east flank of Emyn-nu-Fuin and entering the Anduin Vale near the Old Forest Road. The king was silent as they sat side-by-side, his sapphire gaze perusing the treetops and beyond. Rúmil could hear the soft murmurings of the elves who came and went through the large entry of the caves; he heard the sounds of horses feasting upon hay and grain, and the quiet sounds of the stable hands as they prepared for the departure of Mirkwood's finest warriors. "What are you thinking?" he asked quietly. "I am thinking of all the long days of my life," Thranduil answered. "There will be many more to come," Rúmil replied. Thranduil smiled. "Yes, but from this point forward everything will change, my friend. While I have lived, there has always been shadow upon this wood. I hope that the task we undertake will change that. It would not be a bad exchange, my life for the freedom of this place that I have lived in and loved for so long, should it come to that." Rúmil looked at Thranduil with concern. "Why do you speak thusly?" Thranduil turned his gaze to Rúmil. "Because, my friend, this is no rogue band of yrch we face. We ride forth to do battle with the Dark Lord himself. His power extends far beyond Mordor. I will either fall or see this place freed from the darkness that has haunted it for so long." "You will see it freed; we shall not fail, Thranduil." Thranduil nodded. "To meet the Dark Lord twice in battle and live to tell of it would be a feat in itself." Rúmil smiled. "Think of the tales you will have to tell." Thranduil smiled and took a sip of his wine. "I have many already." Rúmil nodded and turned his gaze toward the darkening sky. "The stars are hidden." "He knows we come. The time has come to stand or die fighting; free men and elves will no longer hide or run from his malice." "May the Valar bless our quest," Rúmil said softly. Thranduil reached out and touched their goblets. "I will drink to that, my friend." To be continued… Title: Winds of War, 22/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen (OMC), Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir Rating: NC-17 Beta: Fimbrethiel Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, violence, angst and incest. 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: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Seventh story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the late Third Age and continuing into the early Fourth Age. Galen is a name I am borrowing from a character that Khylaren and I have used before. This is not the same Galen, only the name is identical. I know that it does not state anywhere (at least to my knowledge) that the Elves of Mirkwood participated in the attack on Dol Guldur; let's just say I'm taking authorial and creative privilege in including them. Summary: Rúmil experiences a moment of doubt and Thranduil nearly succumbs to weakness, the Lords of the West prepare to ride to the Black Gates, and Glorfindel has an unwelcome visitor. Rúmil stood outside Thranduil's door. He was unsure how he came to be there; it was as though his feet carried him there without his consent. The last time he had seen the king, they had been lovers, and Rúmil now realized that there was a part of him that had indeed loved the King of Mirkwood. The way they parted, the questions left unanswered - he guessed those things were the causes of the turmoil he felt now. There had been no argument, no heated words, and no betrayal, only a sorrowful parting. "Galen," he whispered to himself. His young lover had given himself completely, without hesitation or reservation. Galen's heart was not divided; Galen's heart was his, utterly. He knew he could never live with himself if he betrayed that trust; he also knew that Galen feared what would happen should he and Thranduil come together again. That fear was not without merit, as Rúmil now realized. "Just turn away, Rúmil," he whispered to himself. "Just walk away, now, before it is too late." The door to Thranduil's bedchamber opened and Rúmil looked up to see his former lover standing in the doorway. It did not help that Thranduil was beautiful beyond the measure of many, nor did it help that he was clad only in a pair of soft, loose trousers. Words failed him as his eyes wandered unbidden over the body that he once worshiped with his own. Alabaster skin stretched taut over chiseled muscles like living silk and iron, hair the color of summer wheat framed a wise and kind face, sapphire eyes bored into his soul, beckoned to his desire – these things rooted him to the spot. "Rúmil?" The deep voice called to him. "Are you well?" Rúmil's own voice came out hoarse and quiet. "I could not sleep." His heart jumped as Thranduil's hand cupped his elbow. "Come inside, my friend; tell me what troubles you." Rúmil stepped across the threshold into Thranduil's bedchamber. The sheets were turned down, candles burned in a lantern beside the bed. His body wanted to mold itself to the Mirkwood King's, yet his heart was splitting in two. The ache he felt as he stepped closer, his arms encircling the king's waist of their own accord, caused him to shudder and tears began to sting his eyes. "I have missed you; I did not realize how much until I saw you," he whispered. Thranduil held Rúmil, his hands resting upon the guardian's back and head. "I have missed you as well, Rúmil," he answered softly. "I am sorry that I left you behind." Rúmil looked up into Thranduil's eyes. "Are you?" Thranduil nodded. "Aye, I am." His lips were so close, within reach, soft, pink, sweeter than the ripest berries on a summer day. It would be so easy to rise to the balls of his feet and press his lips against Thranduil's. He knew if he did that, his former lover would return the kiss, would deepen it; he knew that their hands would start caressing, clutching, their bodies would call to one another as they once did so long ago. A shuddering sigh escaped him as Thranduil caressed his cheek, strong, warrior's hands touching so gently, so lovingly. He watched the slow working of the king's throat as he swallowed, felt the tension building in the powerful body he had submitted to so many times before. "I…" he began to speak but his voice failed him. "You are in love," Thranduil finished for him. "I read your letter many times. While those words were not written in ink, they resided there nonetheless. Your heart has always been waiting for that one that would belong to you wholly; I can see in your eyes that you have found him." Rúmil swallowed and lowered his eyes. "I will not deny that to hold you and make love to you would bring me much pleasure. But would it be worth the price? Would one night of passion be worth the pain it would cause? Would it be worth the guilt?" Thranduil asked softly. "No," Rúmil answered. "I cannot hurt him. He has given me everything and asked for nothing. Even as I stand here now, in your arms, he lies alone, waiting for me to return." Thranduil smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Rúmil's head. "That is what I love about you, Rúmil. You have a good and honest heart. Go now, hold your beloved close in your heart and let go of what once was." Rúmil looked into Thranduil's eyes. "You are lonely, I see it. You long for someone, though I know not who." Thranduil smiled sadly and nodded. "As you suspected all along, my heart belongs to another and always will. I cannot give you what your lover can, for my heart is no longer mine to give." "I pray that you will be with the one you love, Thranduil. You deserve that." "Go, before I change my mind and keep you here," Thranduil answered with a smile. Rúmil smiled in return then turned and left Thranduil's arms. * * * * Legolas held his hands high over his head as Elladan wrapped his torso with linen. Elrohir held thick cotton batting in place while his brother worked. "This will protect your ribs until they are fully healed," Elladan commented as he wrapped the bandage over the batting. "You should at least wear chest armor as well," Elrohir added. "I am sure we can find some in the armory that will fit." "What he should be doing is staying abed," Gimli grumbled. "I am not staying abed, not while my friends ride to battle. Aragorn cannot spare a single warrior, you know that." Legolas protested. "You could stay here with the guards of the citadel; you would still be serving him," Gimli responded. He shrunk a little from the glare Legolas gave him, and then sighed. "I suppose if I were you, I would do the same." "You know you would," Legolas answered. Elladan tore the end of the linen strip in half and tied it around the prince's midsection to secure the bandage. "There, that should hold." "Thank you," Legolas said as he lowered his arms. "How does it feel?" Elrohir asked. "It is a little restrictive, but I think I can manage." "Come, let us find some armor that will fit you." Elladan tugged upon Legolas' hand. Legolas gingerly dismounted the table and followed the twins and Gimli out of his room, down the hall toward the armory. "Anor will rise soon; we have not much time." Gimli walked beside Legolas. "A truer statement was never uttered," he remarked quietly. Legolas looked down at his friend and offered a comforting squeeze on his shoulder. "The will of the Valar shall be done. I only ask that I have the courage to fight well," he answered softly. "You will, laddie, you will," Gimli answered. * * * * Glorfindel stood on the veranda where representatives from the council had once sat. His arms were hanging by his sides and his azure gaze was fixed on the stone pedestal in the center. His brow furrowed, he clenched his jaw and reached out, his hand hovering over the place where the One Ring had once lain. He felt, more than saw, the tremor in his hand as it hung there in space. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and slowly lowered his hand. Upon touching the pedestal, he felt a wave of heat roll through his body and felt a disorienting falling sensation as the connection that had survived both space and time began to reform. The rasp of breath, the heat of malice, the rhythm of his own heart beating like a frightened deer. He felt those cold hands on his throat, heard the dark words in his mind. Swallowing, he growled under his breath, "Your end approaches; it is a pity I will not be there to witness it." "The pity is mine," the black voice responded in his mind. "For I have longed for what was taken from me long ago. To be deprived of your fall, of your surrender, has been something I have mourned these many years." A cold laugh escaped Glorfindel's lips. "You have sought to control me, though you have lacked the strength to do so. Now you also lack the strength to defend your own realm. Saruman has betrayed you; the Men of Gondor, Dol Amroth and Rohan have joined against you. I felt the demise of your captain; I heard his shriek as his blackened soul was cast into the void. Where is your strength now, Lord of Barad-dûr?" "You mock me now, but you will not do so when I have destroyed all that you love, when you supplicate yourself before me as I bend you to my will. Will you laugh when your raven-haired lover screams in eternal pain? When your lord begs for his life and the life of his defiled children? You failed to protect those you served once before, you will fail again." "Bait me, you will not succeed. Your days are coming to an end and you will be cast into the void to suffer with your master." "Glorfindel?" Pulling his hand away from the cold stone, Glorfindel turned to see Erestor standing in the doorway that led from the council chambers. "What are you doing out here?" "I was just thinking," Glorfindel answered quietly. "Thinking about what?" Erestor asked, as he descended the stair and walked toward him. "About what is to come. I was wondering what the sign will be. Will we see armies of yrch swarming from the mountains? Will riders come with word that the Dark Lord has been defeated? We are so far away from it all here, yet the danger is so close." "Lord Elrond will know. He sees far, past mountains and woods. He will know when and if the task has been done." Erestor wrapped his arms around Glorfindel's waist. A tremor ran up his spine as his mate's hands came to rest on his back. "Your hand is cold," Erestor remarked, looking with concern into his lover's eyes. Glorfindel pulled the hand away that had been resting on the pedestal, clenching it into a fist. "I am sorry, my love," he answered softly. "What were you doing there, Glorfindel? Why is the hand that was on the pedestal so cold?" "Nothing," Glorfindel answered. "I told you, I was thinking." Erestor narrowed his eyes. "Are you going to start keeping secrets from me again?" Glorfindel closed his eyes and gently shook his head. "No. I was talking to him. Well, not talking exactly, but…" Erestor interrupted, "Why? You have been able to control it; you have not had the dreams nor become lost in your memories. Why would you reopen this path when you have been at peace for so long?" Glorfindel leaned his head back. "I do not know why I did it. I do not know why I listened to him. He calls to me constantly, though I have been able to ignore him." Erestor took Glorfindel's face in his hands, turning it back to face him. "It will be over soon, my love. Soon his voice will disappear from your mind, never to return." Glorfindel opened his eyes and smiled sadly. "Forgive me, Erestor, for succumbing to his call." Erestor smiled. "There is nothing to forgive. Come, take a walk with me and occupy your mind with more pleasant things." Glorfindel nodded and allowed Erestor to lead him from the council chambers and out of the Last Homely House. To be continued… Title: Winds of War, 24/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen (OMC), Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir Rating: NC-17 Beta: Fimbrethiel Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, violence, angst and incest. 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: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Seventh story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the late Third Age and continuing into the early Fourth Age. Galen is a name I am borrowing from a character that Khylaren and I have used before. This is not the same Galen, only the name is identical. I know that it does not state anywhere (at least to my knowledge) that the Elves of Mirkwood participated in the attack on Dol Guldur; let's just say I'm taking authorial and creative privilege in including them. Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel remind themselves of the beauty of life. Glorfindel held hands with Erestor as they walked through the woods that surrounded the Last Homely House. Neither spoke as they followed the winding path, the silence filled by the song of birds and the chirping of squirrels. Leaves and small twigs crunched and snapped beneath their feet and the sunlight danced amid shadows cast by gently blowing branches. The scent of snow was on the air as winter gave way to spring; the cool breeze gently caressed their hair and robes as they walked. Glorfindel felt the band on Erestor's finger, the symbol of their promise and undying love. The rings were a bond of eternal faith and love, an unending circle of promise and fulfillment. The feeling of that band gave him comfort, and as they walked, it erased the coldness that had settled in from when he touched the stone pedestal. One ring undoing another, love taking the place of fear and hatred. Many thought he was without fear, that the Great Glorfindel - the elf who had faced down a Balrog and been returned by the Valar - feared nothing. Indeed, to those who did not know him it would appear so. He rode into battle headlong, charging to what would appear to be his death, and always returning victorious. This reputation was enhanced when the Witch King fled from him in the north, and tales of Glorfindel's bravery and strength spread far since that day. What few knew, indeed only two knew, was that fear was a constant companion to him. Annatar's touch had not left Glorfindel when he was rescued from the Dark Lord's grip; the bond that was formed was not broken as Elrond charged forward with his warriors and Erestor dragged Glorfindel to safety. Glorfindel's was a soul that straddled two worlds: the world of the living and the world of the dead, and until Erestor had battered down the walls he built around himself, he was continually torn between them. Since their bonding, his soul was more firmly rooted in the land of the living; Erestor's love was like a balm to his wounded spirit, chasing away the shadow that had hovered there for so long. He owed Erestor so much; the debt was beyond repaying. His beloved was beautiful in the dancing sunlight. His raven hair glowed, his ivory skin shone against his dark garments; his stormy grey eyes sparkled with humor and love. A gentle smile curved Erestor's lips, causing a smile to form on Glorfindel's lips in return. "I love you, Erestor," he said quietly as they walked together. Erestor squeezed his hand and drew him closer, linking his arm around his waist. "I love you as well, my lion," he answered in his soft, smoky voice. Glorfindel wrapped his arm around Erestor's narrow waist, his hand cupping the advisor's hip. They walked awhile longer in silence and he felt Erestor's hand slide from his hip to his backside, gently cupping the muscle as they continued down the path. Glorfindel smiled again. One of the most endearing and alluring things about his mate was the streak of wickedness that ran through him. Erestor was an adventurous and exciting lover. They neared the stable, having completed the circuit around the Last Homely House. The grounds were nearly deserted; the only inhabitants left were the staff needed to attend Lord Elrond and Arwen, and Glorfindel's warriors. Erestor barked in surprise then laughed as Glorfindel pulled him into the stable. He turned and began backing away from his warrior-lover as Glorfindel latched the stable doors. "What are you doing, my love?" he asked with a seductive smile. "Locking the door," Glorfindel answered matter-of-factly. The look in Glorfindel's eyes as he turned caused a quiet gasp to escape him. The predatory gaze that darkened his mate's azure eyes always caused a shiver of delight to run down Erestor's spine. "We are in the stable," Erestor said as he continued backing away slowly. "I know," Glorfindel answered as he advanced. "We might be found," Erestor cautioned. "I do not care," Glorfindel countered. "Well, you will have to catch me first," Erestor answered teasingly. "That should not be a problem," Glorfindel replied smugly. "We shall see about that." Erestor turned and bolted, his fingers quickly working the clasps on his cumbersome robe. Glorfindel nearly caught him, much faster than he anticipated, and he scrambled up the ladder into the loft. Glorfindel's growl of frustration as the robe came off in the warrior's hands caused Erestor to chuckle and he quickly crawled through the hay and took up a hiding place behind a large bale. His heart pounded rapidly, as much from excitement as from the sprint up the ladder. He could feel that excitement transforming into desire as he waited for his lover to find him. He wondered what Glorfindel had in mind. Would it be a quick tryst or a leisurely lovemaking? Now that many of the inhabitants were gone from Imladris, neither had the daily grind of a schedule to keep. The sun filtered through the narrow gaps in between the boards of the stable roof, the breeze caused the window shutters to rattle slightly in their frames. He heard the rustle of hay as Glorfindel approached, and he drew his knees tightly to his chest and hid his face. "Oh!" he cried and laughed aloud as his beloved grasped his ankles and pulled hard. Soon he was on his back, hay in his hair and his face flushed with excitement. Glorfindel smiled wickedly, pinning Erestor's wrists over his head and holding his mate's body down with his weight. "Is this the best you could manage? You know there is only one way out of here, and that is the way you came in." Erestor smiled. "Perhaps I wanted to be caught." He bit his lower lip as Glorfindel undulated against him. "Indeed," Glorfindel answered, lowering his face to Erestor's own. "The question is what to do with you now that I have caught you." "Oh, I am sure you will come up with something," Erestor breathed. Erestor closed his eyes as Glorfindel's lips caressed his face, starting at his forehead and continuing to his eyelids, cheeks and jaw. His breathing increased as his mate's lips explored his neck then moved upward to the curve of his ear. He turned his head, giving Glorfindel better access to his sensitive ear, then squirmed beneath him as his beloved's lips began to work the sensitive point. Erestor swallowed as heat bloomed in his loins and he rocked his hips, pressing his burgeoning arousal into that of his mate's. Glorfindel took both of his wrists in one hand and began caressing his chest with the other, his lover's calloused fingertips grazing his erect nipples through the silk of his shirt. He struggled to get his legs apart, continuing to roll his hips in an upward arc, feeling the evidence of Glorfindel's own desire pressing against his own. "I want your mouth on me," he whispered raggedly. "In time," Glorfindel responded huskily. Glorfindel's mouth left his ear and continued down his neck, sucking and leaving a trail of love marks that could not be hidden. He arched against his mate, his moans deepening and intensifying as he began to thrust his hips harder against his beloved's solid form. Glorfindel tried to contain Erestor's movements, but as Erestor began to struggle against him, it was becoming increasingly more difficult. He was larger than Erestor, this was true, but his mate was surprisingly strong despite his lean build. Erestor's legs slipped from beneath him and soon his lower body was locked into place, held tightly between Erestor's strong thighs. Erestor continued to writhe and struggle against him as he managed to insert his hand between their bodies. A deep groan escaped his lover as his hand cupped Erestor's rigid length and began to slowly rub and squeeze it through the velvet fabric of his mate's leggings. "For Elbereth's sake, Glorfindel," Erestor growled. "Just give me what I want." Glorfindel bit down on the juncture of Erestor's neck and shoulder, causing a plaintive whimper to come from his lover. "Who is the hunter and who is the prey here?" he murmured into Erestor's ear. Erestor arched again and squeezed his eyes shut. "You want me to submit to you?" he whispered. "I insist," Glorfindel answered. "Very well," Erestor answered softly. Glorfindel felt the struggle leave his beloved's body and soon Erestor was as malleable as clay in his hands. Soft moans replaced heated growls, and Glorfindel released Erestor's wrists so that he could properly pleasure his beloved with both his hands and his mouth. Erestor moaned and arched as Glorfindel unlaced his shirt, his lover's fingers and lips roaming his bared chest and torso. His heart hammered inside his chest, he could feel sweat beading on his skin, and his arousal ached and wept inside his leggings. He buried his hands in Glorfindel's hair, his fingers tangling in his mate's braids and massaging his scalp. A gasp escaped him as his leggings were unlaced and pulled low around his hips; Glorfindel's soft, warm breath ghosted over his aching length. The first lick of Glorfindel's tongue caused Erestor to groan and whisper, "Yes, please, yes…", and when he was engulfed in his mate's warm, wet embrace he cried out, not caring who heard them. He struggled not to thrust too quickly or too roughly into Glorfindel's mouth, but he was quickly losing the battle against his lust. It did not take him long to reach completion, and he cried out and bowed, gripping Glorfindel's mane tightly as he spilled down his beloved's throat. Panting roughly, he collapsed back into the hay, his eyes closed as he savored both the warm glow of his climax and the silken slide of Glorfindel's tongue against his spent arousal. A smile curved his lips as the warmth settled into his bones, a tingling sensation running the course of his body as Glorfindel deposited kisses along his torso. "Was that to your liking, my love?" Glorfindel murmured against Erestor's lips. "Very much so," Erestor responded in a breathless whisper. "Good," Glorfindel responded with a smile before taking his mate's mouth in a deep kiss. They kissed for what felt like hours, slow, leisurely kisses that tasted of salt and honey, and warmed both their hearts and their bodies. Soft moans echoed in the hayloft, as they rolled upon the bed of hay, hands caressing and massaging, lips joined as tongues glided against one another. Erestor could feel the pent up need in his lover's body; Glorfindel's arousal was still prominent and pressing against his hip. "Let me attend to you," he whispered in between kisses, sliding his hand in between his mate's legs. "You already are," Glorfindel whispered in return. "I could kiss you for days, Erestor; I never tire of the feel of your lips against my own." "Perhaps they would feel just as good somewhere else?" Erestor murmured against Glorfindel's jaw. "No, I want them here, on mine," he answered. "My hands then?" Erestor queried as he slid his hand inside Glorfindel's leggings. "Oh yes," Glorfindel answered huskily as he thrust forward into Erestor's grip. Erestor smiled against Glorfindel's mouth as he stroked his lover's length. It felt so good in his hand; like everything else about his beloved, it was warm, hard, and silky smooth. "I love the way you smell," Erestor murmured against the curve of Glorfindel's ear. "Musky and wild, like an untamed predator." Glorfindel gripped Erestor's backside and squeezed before trailing his fingers along the seam of Erestor's leggings. "You make me that way, Erestor. I never stop hungering for you." A squeeze at the tip of Glorfindel's swollen and weeping length caused the warrior to groan wantonly. "Make me weak, Erestor," he whispered huskily. Erestor smiled as he teased Glorfindel's lips with his tongue. "Weak and spent, you are most beautiful that way," he responded. A deep moan escaped Glorfindel, and Erestor could feel the beginnings of his mate's release. He pressed a deep kiss to his beloved's lips, thoroughly perusing Glorfindel's mouth with his tongue before he pulled away and quickly slid down Glorfindel's body to take his arousal in his mouth. A few sliding passes of Erestor's lips and tongue along his length, and Glorfindel cried out, arching as his seed spilled down Erestor's throat. He purred contentedly as Erestor cleaned him with his tongue, and then waited for his beloved to return to his mouth. Erestor gazed at Glorfindel, admiring how beautiful he was. His flushed face, swollen lips, the line of his throat, the way his pulse beat in his neck. Never had a more beautiful creature ever walked the earth, he thought, then he slowly and lovingly kissed his bonded mate. A few discreet smiles were exchanged between warriors as the unlikely couple passed by hand in hand on the way to their home down the hill. One could not help but notice their flushed appearance and the pieces of hay that were tangled in their hair and stuck to their clothing. Erestor and Glorfindel took no heed; at that moment, they were the only two elves in all of Middle-earth. To be continued… Title: Winds of War, 25/? Author: Larien Elengasse Type: FPS Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor, Lindir/Gildor, Elladan/Elrohir, Rúmil/Galen (OMC), Thranduil, Legolas, Haldir Rating: NC-17 Beta: Fimbrethiel Archives: Rhovanion, OEAM, Mirrormere, Glorfindel of Imladris & Melethryn. All others please ask. WARNING: Graphic depictions of sexual acts between two males, violence, angst and incest. 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: If you like, larienelengasse@yahoo.com Author's Notes: Seventh story in the "Love in a Time of War" arc. Set in the late Third Age and continuing into the early Fourth Age. Galen is a name I am borrowing from a character that Khylaren and I have used before. This is not the same Galen, only the name is identical. I know that it does not state anywhere (at least to my knowledge) that the Elves of Mirkwood participated in the attack on Dol Guldur; let's just say I'm taking authorial and creative privilege in including them. Summary: The battle at the Black Gates ends and Sauron is defeated, Thranduil arrives in Lórien, and Erestor gives Glorfindel some good news. Legolas collapsed to his knees in the broken shale; his knives hung limply by his sides and his aching chest heaved with each breath he struggled to take. All around him were the shrieks of orcs and the bellowing of trolls, and beyond the Black Gates, Mt. Doom exploded, sending fire and rock skyward. The ground trembled and shook; he heard the disbelieving gasps of his comrades as the tower of Barad-dûr fell, and he weakly lifted his head just as the tower crashed to the ground. "Thank the Valar," he whispered as he watched the orcs and trolls flee the Morannon in terror, running headlong into great chasms opened in the ground by the falling tower. He looked around for his friends and saw that they were all still standing. He smiled as he turned his face skyward. It was over. He felt Gimli's hand upon his shoulder and he turned his head, the smile still curving his lips. "They did it, Gimli," he said quietly. "Frodo and Sam destroyed the Ring." Gimli nodded and Legolas noted the expression of sorrow on his face. "What is it?" he asked quietly. "The mountain," Gimli began in a shaky voice. "It was nearly destroyed in the explosion." "Frodo," Legolas whispered. Gimli hung his head. Legolas softly said a prayer to the Valar to watch over the Hobbits' spirits and guide them to the afterlife. Soon, the twins and Aragorn joined them; no one felt like celebrating a victory. Elrohir knelt beside Legolas, placing his hands upon his friend's shoulders. "Are you all right?" he asked softly. "Yes," Legolas answered quietly. "Are you in pain?" Elladan asked. "A little, but I will be fine," Legolas answered. "Do we know that they are lost?" "Perhaps they survived," Aragorn answered. "Mithrandir is going to look for them. We must return to Minas Tirith; I want to be sure that the city is well defended. Sauron's hordes may be seeking vengeance soon." The twins helped Legolas to his feet and he gazed upon the battle plain. "My grandfather was lost here," he said softly. "And my father fought upon these very hillsides…" "There will be no more war here, Legolas," Aragorn said quietly. "This is the last time free men will need to fight here." Legolas placed his hand upon Aragorn's shoulder. "I hope you are right, my friend." The Lords of the West left the Morannon and rode back to Minas Tirith. * * * * Galadriel turned suddenly and gazed toward the East. Celeborn looked up from his maps to see a smile slowly begin to spread across his wife's face. "What is it, my love?" he asked. She turned and looked at him, a smile lighting her features. "It is done," she said. Celeborn straightened and crossed the room toward her. "Are you sure?" "Yes." She laughed softly and threw her arms around his neck. "The Dark Lord has fallen," she said. Celeborn lifted her and swung her in a large arc as they laughed. Setting her down, he said, "'Tis time then." Galadriel nodded. "I will gather our forces and send sentries to locate Thranduil and his warriors." Galadriel crossed her arms, the smile still warming her face as Celeborn left the talan. "Freedom," she said softly to the empty space. "This world is free again. It is time to go home." * * * * Elrond opened the door to Erestor's nearly empty office. His chief counselor sat behind his desk, quill in hand, making a list of supplies that would be needed for the trip to the Havens when they eventually left Imladris. Erestor looked up with questioning eyes, for it was not often that Elrond visited his office. "Erestor," the Lord of Imladris began in a somber voice. Erestor, sensing from his lord's expression that something serious had happened, set down his quill and gradually rose from his chair. "What is it, my lord?" he asked nervously. Slowly, a smile began to curve Elrond's lips and he answered, "It is done. Frodo has achieved the quest." Erestor's eyes widened. "You mean. . .he. . .destroyed it?" Elrond's smile was broad as he nodded. "Aye. The Dark Lord is no more." Erestor quickly rounded his desk, throwing his arms around Elrond's shoulders. "Blessed be the Valar!" he shouted. "It is done!" He pulled back, a broad grin curving his lips. "Does Glorfindel know?" Elrond answered with a grin, "No. I thought I would leave it to you to tell him." "I must go! I must find him!" Erestor bolted from his office and ran toward the barracks. Glorfindel and his captain watched each other intently as they slowly moved in a circle. Each one was crouched and prepared to leap should the other provide an opening. The sparring exercises had taken up the afternoon, and Glorfindel and his captain were the last to practice. Glorfindel noted the slight shift of weight from the front foot to the rear of his opponent, a signal that he was rebalancing for attack. Something, he could not tell what, changed. It was as if there had been a heaviness in the air that was suddenly lifted. "Glorfindel!" He heard Erestor shouting his name and turned to look. His captain, never one to pass up an opportunity, leapt at the same time and drove Glorfindel into the ground. Glorfindel grunted with the impact and soon found himself pinned to the ground, both arms over his head and his legs trapped beneath the captain's weight. Erestor ran into the sandpit. "It is done! Lord Elrond just told me, the Ring has been destroyed!" He looked down at his flushed mate. "Have I come at a bad time?" Glorfindel's captain quickly rose and turned, arms raised in the air as he ran toward his soldiers. The group boisterously cheered and embraced one another upon hearing the good news. "Did you not hear me?" Erestor said as he leaned over the prone form of his mate. Glorfindel reached up and quickly pulled Erestor down into the sand with him, rolling over his beloved. "Ai! Glorfindel!" Erestor laughed. "I will have sand in my clothes and in my hair!" Glorfindel grinned down at Erestor. "'Tis true? The Ring has been destroyed?" "Yes," Erestor breathed. "It is over; we can go home." Glorfindel pressed a deep kiss to Erestor's lips, causing another joyous shout to come from his warriors. "Then we must celebrate," he murmured against Erestor's mouth. "Indeed," Erestor answered breathlessly. "Arwen is already speaking to the kitchen staff…" "I meant, you and I," Glorfindel replied, nuzzling Erestor's mouth with his own. "Oh, yes, of course…" Erestor whispered huskily. Another kiss rendered Erestor mute and Glorfindel's warriors left their captain alone with his mate as they wandered away to celebrate with their own friends and loved ones. * * * * Rúmil held his hand up and Thranduil halted the advance of his soldiers. A soft, trilling whistle came from the western bank of the Anduin and Rúmil smiled. He returned the whistle as Galadhrim stepped from the tree line, and Orophin ran to greet him. Swinging down from Celeborn's horse, he embraced his brother, clapping him on the back. "'Tis good to see you," Rúmil said. "'Tis good to see you, brother," Orophin answered. "Even better to see whom you have brought with you." He bowed his head and covered his heart. "My lord, we are most grateful for your assistance." Thranduil smiled and returned the gesture. "I would not miss this for all the mithril in Middle-earth, my friend." Orophin gestured toward the trees. "My regiment is prepared to escort you to the encampment. Lord Celeborn awaits and wishes to speak to you regarding our plans." Thranduil nodded. "Lead on, Orophin. My soldiers and I will follow." The contingent of elves left the Anduin Vale for the cover of the trees, then traveled south to where the rivers Anduin and Silverlode met, and there the two Sindarin rulers planned their attack on Dol Guldur. * * * * "Rúmil!" Galen cried as he caught sight of his lover. Rúmil smiled broadly and crossed the ground in long strides, meeting Galen in the middle of the small meadow. He caught his lover up in his arms and held him close, burying his face in Galen's soft hair. "Mmm… I have missed you," he murmured into Galen's ear. "I missed you as well, so very much," Galen answered softly, his fingers clutching Rúmil's tunic. Rúmil slowly released Galen and then stepped back to look at him. "You are coming with us to Dol Guldur?" he asked quietly. "Aye. I asked it of Lord Celeborn and he granted my request. I would not have you fight without me, Rúmil." Rúmil nodded. While he would rather have had Galen in Caras Galadhon, where he would be safe, he knew that were their positions reversed, he would have asked the same. "This will be very dangerous, Galen," he said quietly. "We will not have the advantage of familiar ground to fight on." Galen leaned forward and whispered, "True, but we do have the Lady." Rúmil smiled. "Aye, that we do. Come, I must return Lord Celeborn's horse to the herd." Galen took Rúmil's hand as his lover whistled to the stallion, and then they walked beside the great horse across the meadow to where the horses were being hidden. To be continued…