The Dark Star of Gondolin
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
7,608
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
7,608
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
1
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.
Chapter 11
Title: The Dark Star of Gondolin
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Author: Lynsey
Websites: http://lynsey-schadegg.livejournal.com/ and http://lotr.adult-fanfiction.org/authors.php?no=1296789875
Mailing List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Fiction_by_Lynsey/
Beta: Tena! *smooches*
Chapter: 11/?
Pairings: Durel/Turgon implied
Rating: NC-17 overall, PG-13 this chapter
Warnings: Hermaphrodite, implied minor in a sexual situation
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue, all I got are college loans, and this isn’t helping to pay them off.
Summary: Durel receives an unexpected surprise.
A/N: Durel is approximately equal in age to a 16/17 year old human. This is an excerpt from Durel’s journal.
I stood quietly in the nearly finished orphanage watching various elves bring in the last of the furniture: cots, chairs, tables, and other odds and ends that would be needed by elflings. Two cradles were brought past me and I sighed. It was hard to think that babies would soon take refuge in this little piece of Gondolin. I procured a seat from a passing workman and moved to an out of the way location to watch the controlled chaos that Glorfindel directed with ease. I smiled as I watched my Lord issue orders to the movers as if he stood upon a field of battle.
Like all Lords of Gondolin, Glorfindel took his position as military captain quite seriously. I rarely saw Glorfindel as a warrior. I was more prone to thinking of him as a diplomat, a business man. It had actually taken a few years of living with my golden Lord to even realize he knew how to wield a sword. I had been astounded to learn that not only did Glorfindel know how to use a weapon, but he was one of the most skilled warriors in the hidden city. His knowledge of battle and tactics was nearly unparalleled; only the King seemed to have greater knowledge than he.
I am no warrior, and I never will be. I am a creature of art, intellect, and beauty. I am a being of sensuality, and therein lay my strength, not in my ability to wield weapons or organize troops.
A single spot of stillness in the otherwise busy building captured my attention. Near the doorway, hovering and afraid was a girl not much older than myself. In her arms was clutched a bundle of rags, and her face displayed uncertainty. Curious, I walked over to her, and her fear seemed to multiply the closer I came. I probably seemed intimidating despite my short stature as I was adorned in fine robes, and my hair was piled high atop my head. She shook slightly as I stood before her, and now I could see that her arms held not a bundle of rags, but a baby.
“Are…um,” she stuttered, “Is this place open yet?”
Looking around at the final preparations being made, I nodded. “It will be very shortly,” I answered.
She nodded back and abruptly shoved the baby in my arms. Startled, I could only grasp at the babe and try not to drop it. The girl turned and ran; leaving me with a babe bundled in rags in my shocked grip. I looked down at the tiny elfling, dumbfounded. I brought the babe closer to cradle it against my chest while I looked around for Glorfindel. I didn’t know what to do with an elfling, and I wasn’t even sure if I was holding it correctly. After several futile minutes of searching, one of the workers took pity and informed me that Glorfindel had left for a meeting and would be back shortly.
I returned to my chair and sat down with the babe in my lap. I studied the very first addition to the new orphanage carefully. The little thing was probably no more than a few days old, and I would bet my best robes that it was the young woman’s child. I could not blame her though. The baby had the best chance of survival here, rather than brought up on the street. The mother was probably a whore at one inn or another, or she got knocked up by some passing fling. It was common and sad, but now these children would have a chance at growing up instead of being neglected and left for dead.
Looking at the slumbering child brought back uncomfortable memories that I would have rather forgotten. What would have happened to my children, had I carried them long enough to birth them alive? The first would have probably suffered a fate that I would rather not think about. The old inn-keep would have probably tossed the child out with the refuse. The second child though…it would have been born while I lived with Glorfindel. Would Glorfindel have treated it as he did me? Would he have raised it as his own? All questions that would never be answered, as my children never lived long enough to experience life out of the womb.
It made me wonder, however, if I was even capable of carrying a child to full term. I conceived the last two under terrible circumstances, but I still worry that I am somehow damaged.
I traced the dirty little face and ran my fingers over chubby, clenched fists. I felt a tightening in my throat and hastily blinked my eyes at an emotion so powerfully overwhelming that it nearly made me break down there in the common room of the orphanage.
I wanted Glorfindel’s baby.
I wanted the child in my arms to be our baby. I wanted to feel it grow inside of me, give birth to it, and watch as it grew in the love of its father. I wanted to teach it to read, to write, to dance. I wanted to hold it as it slept. I wanted a baby.
Would Glorfindel welcome the thought of having a family? If I were to bear children for him, would they be treated as Lords or slaves? So many questions that I wanted answers for.
The child began to fuss, and as inexperienced as I was I knew not what to do. I stood and walked around the room with the child cradled tightly to me. It felt…nice to hold such a small child, even if said child happened to be crying.
“Durel?” I heard from behind me. I whirled around, and smiled in relief at the sight of Glorfindel standing in the doorway.
I moved toward him urgently and presented him with the crying bundle in my arms. “What do I do? I can not stop it from crying.”
“It’s probably hungry,” Glorfindel said quietly. He looked around at the nearly finished, but not fully stocked or staffed orphanage. He sighed quietly. “We will need to bring him…her…it home for a few days until this place is up and running. Come, lovely one.” He took my arm and guided me outside to our awaiting carriage. It took a few minutes for the driver to hitch the team of horses to the cart, as he had not expected us to be leaving so soon. As I sat in the cool shade of the canopied cart, I occupied myself by removing the rags from the baby’s body and rewrapping the infant in a sash from my robes. I smiled when I recognized the baby as a boy. I tossed the rags to the floor of the carriage for one of the servants to take care of when we arrived at home.
Glorfindel swung into the conveyance beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. He leaned over the baby and stroked the little face. The smile on my Lord’s face as he gazed upon the child made bold, and I caught his gaze with my own. “I want a baby,” I said quietly, evenly. My Lord’s expression went through several moments of indecipherable emotions before it settled on determination.
“We will speak about this after your majority celebration.”
“My Lord-”
“Not yet, my love. We are not yet ready for that step. Someday, but not now.”
I bowed my head in submission to my Lord’s judgment. I would follow his unspoken command to continue with the use of the herbs that prevented pregnancy for although Glorfindel did not use my body, Turgon still had full reign over my physical being.
I leaned back into the comfortable seat as the carriage lurched forward at a command from the driver, a flick of the reins and crack of the whip. I closed my eyes in momentary pain at the thought of Turgon, that bastard. After everything that had happened between Turgon, Glorfindel, and I the King still insist on using me for his perverted pleasures. I am also not innocent in the matter; however I can claim that my manipulations were out of charity for those children in the street that could benefit from my “negotiations” with the King. Turgon, on the other hand, threatened to end Glorfindel’s Lordship should I stop entertaining him. Therefore, I returned to my role as Turgon’s bedmate. If I could obtain some recompense for my actions, then I would horde everything I could.
I had at first thought that I would again suffer the Elven Sickness, but as days progressed into weeks and months I found that I was not becoming ill again. I attribute this to the fact that Glorfindel now comprehends my position. I talk to him, tell him what Turgon does to me and what he demands of me. I also tell him of my subtle manipulations of the King. My Lord does not like it, but he acknowledges that little can be done to change the circumstances we have found ourselves in. He comforts me after I return to our home from an incident with Turgon. He washes my body of the stench of the King and he holds me as I weep tears of bitter injustice. He also rejoices at the victories I win for both us and the children we fight for.
The sound of horse hooves is hypnotic and soothing as we transverse the city. The babe has fallen into an exhausted slumber, and I cradle him closer to my chest and place my cheek against his forehead. One little life that I can save. One little hope for the destitute of Gondolin.
All I can do is pray I do not fail.
TBC…
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Author: Lynsey
Websites: http://lynsey-schadegg.livejournal.com/ and http://lotr.adult-fanfiction.org/authors.php?no=1296789875
Mailing List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Fiction_by_Lynsey/
Beta: Tena! *smooches*
Chapter: 11/?
Pairings: Durel/Turgon implied
Rating: NC-17 overall, PG-13 this chapter
Warnings: Hermaphrodite, implied minor in a sexual situation
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue, all I got are college loans, and this isn’t helping to pay them off.
Summary: Durel receives an unexpected surprise.
A/N: Durel is approximately equal in age to a 16/17 year old human. This is an excerpt from Durel’s journal.
I stood quietly in the nearly finished orphanage watching various elves bring in the last of the furniture: cots, chairs, tables, and other odds and ends that would be needed by elflings. Two cradles were brought past me and I sighed. It was hard to think that babies would soon take refuge in this little piece of Gondolin. I procured a seat from a passing workman and moved to an out of the way location to watch the controlled chaos that Glorfindel directed with ease. I smiled as I watched my Lord issue orders to the movers as if he stood upon a field of battle.
Like all Lords of Gondolin, Glorfindel took his position as military captain quite seriously. I rarely saw Glorfindel as a warrior. I was more prone to thinking of him as a diplomat, a business man. It had actually taken a few years of living with my golden Lord to even realize he knew how to wield a sword. I had been astounded to learn that not only did Glorfindel know how to use a weapon, but he was one of the most skilled warriors in the hidden city. His knowledge of battle and tactics was nearly unparalleled; only the King seemed to have greater knowledge than he.
I am no warrior, and I never will be. I am a creature of art, intellect, and beauty. I am a being of sensuality, and therein lay my strength, not in my ability to wield weapons or organize troops.
A single spot of stillness in the otherwise busy building captured my attention. Near the doorway, hovering and afraid was a girl not much older than myself. In her arms was clutched a bundle of rags, and her face displayed uncertainty. Curious, I walked over to her, and her fear seemed to multiply the closer I came. I probably seemed intimidating despite my short stature as I was adorned in fine robes, and my hair was piled high atop my head. She shook slightly as I stood before her, and now I could see that her arms held not a bundle of rags, but a baby.
“Are…um,” she stuttered, “Is this place open yet?”
Looking around at the final preparations being made, I nodded. “It will be very shortly,” I answered.
She nodded back and abruptly shoved the baby in my arms. Startled, I could only grasp at the babe and try not to drop it. The girl turned and ran; leaving me with a babe bundled in rags in my shocked grip. I looked down at the tiny elfling, dumbfounded. I brought the babe closer to cradle it against my chest while I looked around for Glorfindel. I didn’t know what to do with an elfling, and I wasn’t even sure if I was holding it correctly. After several futile minutes of searching, one of the workers took pity and informed me that Glorfindel had left for a meeting and would be back shortly.
I returned to my chair and sat down with the babe in my lap. I studied the very first addition to the new orphanage carefully. The little thing was probably no more than a few days old, and I would bet my best robes that it was the young woman’s child. I could not blame her though. The baby had the best chance of survival here, rather than brought up on the street. The mother was probably a whore at one inn or another, or she got knocked up by some passing fling. It was common and sad, but now these children would have a chance at growing up instead of being neglected and left for dead.
Looking at the slumbering child brought back uncomfortable memories that I would have rather forgotten. What would have happened to my children, had I carried them long enough to birth them alive? The first would have probably suffered a fate that I would rather not think about. The old inn-keep would have probably tossed the child out with the refuse. The second child though…it would have been born while I lived with Glorfindel. Would Glorfindel have treated it as he did me? Would he have raised it as his own? All questions that would never be answered, as my children never lived long enough to experience life out of the womb.
It made me wonder, however, if I was even capable of carrying a child to full term. I conceived the last two under terrible circumstances, but I still worry that I am somehow damaged.
I traced the dirty little face and ran my fingers over chubby, clenched fists. I felt a tightening in my throat and hastily blinked my eyes at an emotion so powerfully overwhelming that it nearly made me break down there in the common room of the orphanage.
I wanted Glorfindel’s baby.
I wanted the child in my arms to be our baby. I wanted to feel it grow inside of me, give birth to it, and watch as it grew in the love of its father. I wanted to teach it to read, to write, to dance. I wanted to hold it as it slept. I wanted a baby.
Would Glorfindel welcome the thought of having a family? If I were to bear children for him, would they be treated as Lords or slaves? So many questions that I wanted answers for.
The child began to fuss, and as inexperienced as I was I knew not what to do. I stood and walked around the room with the child cradled tightly to me. It felt…nice to hold such a small child, even if said child happened to be crying.
“Durel?” I heard from behind me. I whirled around, and smiled in relief at the sight of Glorfindel standing in the doorway.
I moved toward him urgently and presented him with the crying bundle in my arms. “What do I do? I can not stop it from crying.”
“It’s probably hungry,” Glorfindel said quietly. He looked around at the nearly finished, but not fully stocked or staffed orphanage. He sighed quietly. “We will need to bring him…her…it home for a few days until this place is up and running. Come, lovely one.” He took my arm and guided me outside to our awaiting carriage. It took a few minutes for the driver to hitch the team of horses to the cart, as he had not expected us to be leaving so soon. As I sat in the cool shade of the canopied cart, I occupied myself by removing the rags from the baby’s body and rewrapping the infant in a sash from my robes. I smiled when I recognized the baby as a boy. I tossed the rags to the floor of the carriage for one of the servants to take care of when we arrived at home.
Glorfindel swung into the conveyance beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. He leaned over the baby and stroked the little face. The smile on my Lord’s face as he gazed upon the child made bold, and I caught his gaze with my own. “I want a baby,” I said quietly, evenly. My Lord’s expression went through several moments of indecipherable emotions before it settled on determination.
“We will speak about this after your majority celebration.”
“My Lord-”
“Not yet, my love. We are not yet ready for that step. Someday, but not now.”
I bowed my head in submission to my Lord’s judgment. I would follow his unspoken command to continue with the use of the herbs that prevented pregnancy for although Glorfindel did not use my body, Turgon still had full reign over my physical being.
I leaned back into the comfortable seat as the carriage lurched forward at a command from the driver, a flick of the reins and crack of the whip. I closed my eyes in momentary pain at the thought of Turgon, that bastard. After everything that had happened between Turgon, Glorfindel, and I the King still insist on using me for his perverted pleasures. I am also not innocent in the matter; however I can claim that my manipulations were out of charity for those children in the street that could benefit from my “negotiations” with the King. Turgon, on the other hand, threatened to end Glorfindel’s Lordship should I stop entertaining him. Therefore, I returned to my role as Turgon’s bedmate. If I could obtain some recompense for my actions, then I would horde everything I could.
I had at first thought that I would again suffer the Elven Sickness, but as days progressed into weeks and months I found that I was not becoming ill again. I attribute this to the fact that Glorfindel now comprehends my position. I talk to him, tell him what Turgon does to me and what he demands of me. I also tell him of my subtle manipulations of the King. My Lord does not like it, but he acknowledges that little can be done to change the circumstances we have found ourselves in. He comforts me after I return to our home from an incident with Turgon. He washes my body of the stench of the King and he holds me as I weep tears of bitter injustice. He also rejoices at the victories I win for both us and the children we fight for.
The sound of horse hooves is hypnotic and soothing as we transverse the city. The babe has fallen into an exhausted slumber, and I cradle him closer to my chest and place my cheek against his forehead. One little life that I can save. One little hope for the destitute of Gondolin.
All I can do is pray I do not fail.
TBC…