Vacation
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
3,028
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
3,028
Reviews:
16
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Vacation
Title: Vacation
Author: Krit
Email: kritblack1@yahoo.ca
Pairing: Manwë/Lindir, Erestor/Glorfindel, others most assuredly… not sure who yet…
Rating: Uh…. PG – NC-17 would be my guess
Warnings: Slash, AU, NC-17 most likely
Disclaimer: Well, obviously they belong to Tolkien/ Tolkiens Estate as I am not original enough for my own characters (else I would be writing/publishing novels by now) so I use those belonging to other people. Don’t own, don’t profit and don’t have permission to play with – but I’m a rebel and can’t control myself.
Notes: All mistakes are mine and mine alone; I cling to them devotedly because for some reason I get a kick out of re-reading my work and laughing at my own stupidity *shrugs*.
Summary: Manwë takes a little holiday to Imladris and finds love while there, Lórien tags along just for kicks (plus they voted on who got to baby-sit and he lost), there’s some match making mixed in and I think Nämo is planning on making an appearance. This was originally intended for the Lindir Group Challenge Pick-A-Plot but I didn’t get it finished in time (barely got it started and it’s been sitting on my computer for age and my muse suddenly decided to bite and not let go – he’s been on a Lindir kick lately). So yes enough babbling, here it is (and yes Troglodytic is till in the works but this is the one that wanted to get written – when I’ll post more is any ones guess)
Part One...
The slender figure walked grimly down the road, glaring sourly at the large wet drops of water as they hit the surrounding vegetation, the main road and, most importantly, his esteemed self. He was soaked to the skin. His hooded cloak, which had been drawn up to repel the water was laughable in its current sodden state, the cloth beneath was as wet as the outer cloak and even his shoes made squishing noises as he walked along. Lifting his gaze from the damp, dirt packed road that was rapidly turning into a small stream of mud, he fixed it on the taller figure in front of him and narrowed icy blue eyes at the broad back. Clenching his jaw he went back to sulking and staring at the road, cursing inwardly at his companion’s recent bout of spontaneity that had gotten him in this wretched situation in the first place. Honestly, who would have thought to even conceive of the notion that Manwë, Lord of the Valar and oldest of the old would up and decide that after a life time in Valinor, blessed of all realms, he wanted to go traipsing about Middle Earth, on foot no less, just so he could visit the much acclaimed Imladris that had been spoken of with such high regard from the most recent arrivals to the undying land. Regardless of who had thought it, because it was apparent someone had, it did not change the current situation; one he was less than pleased with.
Coming to a stop slightly behind and to the left of Lord of the Valar he glared in the general area of his shoulder blades, presently hidden by a heavy black cloak. Why was it that Manwë was the tallest being he had ever encountered? He stood at least a full six inches taller than the tallest elf, which meant he towered over his much shorter companion by a full head and a half.
He raised an eyebrow as Manwë turned and gave him an inquiring look, silvery colored eyes gleaming from beneath his soggy hood.
“We are almost there, my friend. Just a short while longer and we will be entering the valley of Imladris”. The smooth, deep voice carried over the sound of the rain, and the shorter being curled his lip in irritation and snorted in response.
Manwë sighed and continued walking, leaving his friend to follow, a slight smile gracing his face at the mutterings emanating from behind him. It seemed the carefree and jovial Lórien; Lord of Dreams was not pleased about having to accompany him on this trip. Feeling the cold rain seep through his clothing to dribble slowly down his skin, along his back and arms, Manwë quickened his pace, knowing that they were very close to their destination and hopefully dry clothing and a warm fire.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lórien glared at the eight guards that surrounded them, finding it beyond annoying to be sopping wet and have sharp pointy objects, such as arrows and swords, aimed at his heart. Granted he couldn’t be killed, and even should the unimaginable happen and he somehow died, having connections with the Valar of Death did have certain advantages Be that as it may his current mood was not improved in the least by the reassuring thought. Restraining the urge to snarl something less than pleasant at the elf in charge he waited until the guards had been assured that they were elves and of no threat before eventually resumed his shoe squeaking trudge behind two of the sentries and Manwë. Finding himself to be in the current position of bringing up the rear he could not help but noticed that no one else appeared to have squeaky shoes. Perhaps he was cursed.
“This will be your room, and I hope you do not mind sharing but this is such a busy time for travelers to visit us, what with the snow having melted and the roads being clear. I’m certain you understand.” The young elf maid walkedut tut the room the Valar were to share, efficiently opening the heavy green drapes, which lightened the room a small degree as the stormy grey sky did not permit much light to shine through. Smiling she returned to stand beside the still soaked pair, at which point Lórien could not help noticing that she appeared almost dwarf like when so close to Manwë, a fact that should not have pleased him as much as it did. “It is getting close to the dinner hour so you will have a short time to freshen up and change. There are spare robes, tunics and leggings in the wardrobe which you are more than welcome to use until your own garments have dried. There will be a chime announcing when dinner is being served and you can join us in the main hall, which is located off the first corridor we came down. Tomorrow you will be permitted to speak with the head of the household as to why you are here and how long you are intending to stay. Before I take my leave did you have any questions?”
Both of the Valar shook their heads and waited for the maid to leave. After she had gone Manwë ventured into the small bathing chamber and quickly peeled off his soaked garments. After wringing them out into the marble tub he draped them along the edge and went to the wardrobe where he donned the largest leggings he could fine. Choosing not to bother with a tunic he pulled on a large, soft blue robe. Sighing in resignation he turned to his companion and waited. The loud laughter a moment later was far from surprising as the items were extremely ill fitted. The leggings were at least seven inches too short, looking more like the britches of a youth than those of an adult. The robe was stretched tightly across his shoulders, the neatly stitched seams being strained almost to the point of ripping and the hem dangling just above his knees as if to accent the shortness of the leggings underneath. Tffecffect was completed by the sleevndinnding just short of the elbow.
“When you are through laughing yourself sick I would be most appreciative if you would see about finding me something that would not leave me traipsing about this valley half unclothed.”
The dryly uttered words did little to dispel Lóriens’ mirth but he did exit the room to search for something more adequate, the closing of the door effectively muffling his laughter.
“Your spirits seem to have improved greatly since our arrival”
“Well seeing one of your dearest friends dressed in doll clothes and looking like a drowned rat would raise anyone’s spirits”
“Well aren’t you kind?!”
Smiling sweetly at the dry tone Manwë used Lórien seated himself on the bench at one of the long wooden dining tables, grateful that the hall was still relatively empty.
“I am the kindest of all beings. Who else would have harassed unsuspecting seamstresses, innocent laundresses, braved the perils of an unknown house and pilfered laundry on your behalf?”
Rolling his eyes in exasperation at his companions’ antics Manwë sat down beside the blond, tugging self consciously at the sleeves of his replacement robe. Although the fit was much better and he no longer appeared to be in, as Lórien had termed it, ‘doll clothes’, the new robe and leggings were still a bit on the small size. Seeing the wicked gleam in Lóriens eyes and the slighturniurning of his lips as he prepared to make another sarcastic comment, he smiled evilly and leaned in until they were eye level and almost nose to nose.
“Not another word or you will find yourself with the new title of Lord of the Frogs, whose sole duty will be to make sure the temperature of the mud found at the bottom of the ponds to be just right.”
Leaning back he smiled in satisfaction at Lóriens now disgruntled expression before turning his attention to the hustle and bustle of the newly arriving elves. If the stories he had heard from those who had traveled to the Undying Lands were true his visit to Imladris would be most enjoyable and he could hardly wait to meet the Valley’s inhabitants and learn more about the Last Homely House.
TBC…
Author: Krit
Email: kritblack1@yahoo.ca
Pairing: Manwë/Lindir, Erestor/Glorfindel, others most assuredly… not sure who yet…
Rating: Uh…. PG – NC-17 would be my guess
Warnings: Slash, AU, NC-17 most likely
Disclaimer: Well, obviously they belong to Tolkien/ Tolkiens Estate as I am not original enough for my own characters (else I would be writing/publishing novels by now) so I use those belonging to other people. Don’t own, don’t profit and don’t have permission to play with – but I’m a rebel and can’t control myself.
Notes: All mistakes are mine and mine alone; I cling to them devotedly because for some reason I get a kick out of re-reading my work and laughing at my own stupidity *shrugs*.
Summary: Manwë takes a little holiday to Imladris and finds love while there, Lórien tags along just for kicks (plus they voted on who got to baby-sit and he lost), there’s some match making mixed in and I think Nämo is planning on making an appearance. This was originally intended for the Lindir Group Challenge Pick-A-Plot but I didn’t get it finished in time (barely got it started and it’s been sitting on my computer for age and my muse suddenly decided to bite and not let go – he’s been on a Lindir kick lately). So yes enough babbling, here it is (and yes Troglodytic is till in the works but this is the one that wanted to get written – when I’ll post more is any ones guess)
Part One...
The slender figure walked grimly down the road, glaring sourly at the large wet drops of water as they hit the surrounding vegetation, the main road and, most importantly, his esteemed self. He was soaked to the skin. His hooded cloak, which had been drawn up to repel the water was laughable in its current sodden state, the cloth beneath was as wet as the outer cloak and even his shoes made squishing noises as he walked along. Lifting his gaze from the damp, dirt packed road that was rapidly turning into a small stream of mud, he fixed it on the taller figure in front of him and narrowed icy blue eyes at the broad back. Clenching his jaw he went back to sulking and staring at the road, cursing inwardly at his companion’s recent bout of spontaneity that had gotten him in this wretched situation in the first place. Honestly, who would have thought to even conceive of the notion that Manwë, Lord of the Valar and oldest of the old would up and decide that after a life time in Valinor, blessed of all realms, he wanted to go traipsing about Middle Earth, on foot no less, just so he could visit the much acclaimed Imladris that had been spoken of with such high regard from the most recent arrivals to the undying land. Regardless of who had thought it, because it was apparent someone had, it did not change the current situation; one he was less than pleased with.
Coming to a stop slightly behind and to the left of Lord of the Valar he glared in the general area of his shoulder blades, presently hidden by a heavy black cloak. Why was it that Manwë was the tallest being he had ever encountered? He stood at least a full six inches taller than the tallest elf, which meant he towered over his much shorter companion by a full head and a half.
He raised an eyebrow as Manwë turned and gave him an inquiring look, silvery colored eyes gleaming from beneath his soggy hood.
“We are almost there, my friend. Just a short while longer and we will be entering the valley of Imladris”. The smooth, deep voice carried over the sound of the rain, and the shorter being curled his lip in irritation and snorted in response.
Manwë sighed and continued walking, leaving his friend to follow, a slight smile gracing his face at the mutterings emanating from behind him. It seemed the carefree and jovial Lórien; Lord of Dreams was not pleased about having to accompany him on this trip. Feeling the cold rain seep through his clothing to dribble slowly down his skin, along his back and arms, Manwë quickened his pace, knowing that they were very close to their destination and hopefully dry clothing and a warm fire.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Lórien glared at the eight guards that surrounded them, finding it beyond annoying to be sopping wet and have sharp pointy objects, such as arrows and swords, aimed at his heart. Granted he couldn’t be killed, and even should the unimaginable happen and he somehow died, having connections with the Valar of Death did have certain advantages Be that as it may his current mood was not improved in the least by the reassuring thought. Restraining the urge to snarl something less than pleasant at the elf in charge he waited until the guards had been assured that they were elves and of no threat before eventually resumed his shoe squeaking trudge behind two of the sentries and Manwë. Finding himself to be in the current position of bringing up the rear he could not help but noticed that no one else appeared to have squeaky shoes. Perhaps he was cursed.
“This will be your room, and I hope you do not mind sharing but this is such a busy time for travelers to visit us, what with the snow having melted and the roads being clear. I’m certain you understand.” The young elf maid walkedut tut the room the Valar were to share, efficiently opening the heavy green drapes, which lightened the room a small degree as the stormy grey sky did not permit much light to shine through. Smiling she returned to stand beside the still soaked pair, at which point Lórien could not help noticing that she appeared almost dwarf like when so close to Manwë, a fact that should not have pleased him as much as it did. “It is getting close to the dinner hour so you will have a short time to freshen up and change. There are spare robes, tunics and leggings in the wardrobe which you are more than welcome to use until your own garments have dried. There will be a chime announcing when dinner is being served and you can join us in the main hall, which is located off the first corridor we came down. Tomorrow you will be permitted to speak with the head of the household as to why you are here and how long you are intending to stay. Before I take my leave did you have any questions?”
Both of the Valar shook their heads and waited for the maid to leave. After she had gone Manwë ventured into the small bathing chamber and quickly peeled off his soaked garments. After wringing them out into the marble tub he draped them along the edge and went to the wardrobe where he donned the largest leggings he could fine. Choosing not to bother with a tunic he pulled on a large, soft blue robe. Sighing in resignation he turned to his companion and waited. The loud laughter a moment later was far from surprising as the items were extremely ill fitted. The leggings were at least seven inches too short, looking more like the britches of a youth than those of an adult. The robe was stretched tightly across his shoulders, the neatly stitched seams being strained almost to the point of ripping and the hem dangling just above his knees as if to accent the shortness of the leggings underneath. Tffecffect was completed by the sleevndinnding just short of the elbow.
“When you are through laughing yourself sick I would be most appreciative if you would see about finding me something that would not leave me traipsing about this valley half unclothed.”
The dryly uttered words did little to dispel Lóriens’ mirth but he did exit the room to search for something more adequate, the closing of the door effectively muffling his laughter.
“Your spirits seem to have improved greatly since our arrival”
“Well seeing one of your dearest friends dressed in doll clothes and looking like a drowned rat would raise anyone’s spirits”
“Well aren’t you kind?!”
Smiling sweetly at the dry tone Manwë used Lórien seated himself on the bench at one of the long wooden dining tables, grateful that the hall was still relatively empty.
“I am the kindest of all beings. Who else would have harassed unsuspecting seamstresses, innocent laundresses, braved the perils of an unknown house and pilfered laundry on your behalf?”
Rolling his eyes in exasperation at his companions’ antics Manwë sat down beside the blond, tugging self consciously at the sleeves of his replacement robe. Although the fit was much better and he no longer appeared to be in, as Lórien had termed it, ‘doll clothes’, the new robe and leggings were still a bit on the small size. Seeing the wicked gleam in Lóriens eyes and the slighturniurning of his lips as he prepared to make another sarcastic comment, he smiled evilly and leaned in until they were eye level and almost nose to nose.
“Not another word or you will find yourself with the new title of Lord of the Frogs, whose sole duty will be to make sure the temperature of the mud found at the bottom of the ponds to be just right.”
Leaning back he smiled in satisfaction at Lóriens now disgruntled expression before turning his attention to the hustle and bustle of the newly arriving elves. If the stories he had heard from those who had traveled to the Undying Lands were true his visit to Imladris would be most enjoyable and he could hardly wait to meet the Valley’s inhabitants and learn more about the Last Homely House.
TBC…