The Dark Star of Gondolin
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
7,609
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
1
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
15
Views:
7,609
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 12
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: None
Chapter: 12/?
Pairings: Durel/Turgon implied
Rating: NC-17 overall, R 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. An elven child with an age of 5-7 years old is approximately equal to a 4-5 year old human. This is an excerpt from Durel’s journal.
I sit in one of the small classrooms Glorfindel’s orphanage hosts. As I await the arrival of my next class, I cannot help but wonder what my students think of me. The classes I teach have children of many ages: from toddlers to young elves my age. There are a handful of other teachers beside myself, but I have taken over the majority of the education at this facility. The students my age regard me with an expression that I remember from living in the streets: one of inapproachability and hostility. Underneath that mask, what are they thinking? How do they view me, the pet of a wealthy Lord?
Some of them listen as I teach, others do not. I can easily tell those that still have hope and those that gave up long ago. Those with hope try very hard to learn what I freely give them. Those without regard me with apathy and hostility. They fail to see why they should waste their time learning letters and numbers while they could be dithering away what is left of their short lives with mind-numbing drugs. Those elves fail to see that there could be more, so much more than a quick snuffing of their immortal light with drugs and alcohol. Elven lives were not meant to be lived as the poor of Gondolin are forced to suffer. Elves need the sustenance of green and growing things, of light and love. We the immortal can sustain the gravest of physical wounds and recover, yet we can fade from lack of love in a heartbeat. We are both indestructible and utterly fragile all in one instant.
A handful of my students understand what we are trying to do for them. They try so very hard to excel in their studies. None of them have so far exhibited the type of learning rate that I am capable of, and I worry that they will not learn enough to obtain good jobs for them before they are too old to live at the orphanage any longer. However, I have never been one to give up a fight, and I will not start now.
*********((Next Entry))*********
After my last class of the day, I retire to the large common room that provides space for many functions of the facility. As I recline on a pillow in the corner, I watch small children run around the rug-covered floor with the energy of youngling forced to sit still for nearly an hour. These were the youngest children with the exception of the babies and toddlers at the orphanage. They ranged from around five to seven years old. I smile as they become more rambunctious, and one of the live-in matrons tried to quiet the raucous group.
They are all so adorable, every single one of them.
Several of the children goad me into dancing for them. The little faces sat in awed rapture as I elegantly moved through the steps. I danced with one of the little fans that I used to keep cool. It was not one of the beautifully decorated silk fans that I used to dance in public settings, but to the children it made no difference. After I finished a set, I let the children take turns trying to emulate me while dancing with my fan.
Inspired, I went to the classroom and gathered several pieces of paper. I gave the children pieces of colored wax to draw on the paper with, and then I showed them how to fold the paper into their very own fan.
The matron and I sat in the room as the children colored and decorated their fans. We talked about small, insignificant things, and time passed with unstrained ease.
That was, unstrained until he made an appearance. Lord Ecthelion was escorted into the common room by one of the caretakers. She bowed and left the room after properly announcing the arrival of the illustrious lord. The matron and I stood to courteously greet one of his station, although inside I was seething. I plastered a polite smile on my face, and quietly inquired what the lord’s business was.
Ecthelion smiled a small, calculated smile. “I have come to retrieve you for His Majesty. He requires your presence immediately. If you will please come with me?” he gestured for the door.
I was highly suspicious. Since when was Ecthelion Turgon’s messenger boy? Something underhanded was going on, but I could not tell if it was from Ecthelion’s end or Turgon’s. Or a combination of the two. I wouldn’t put it past either of them to be in league with one another.
“May I have a moment to gather my things?” I requested courteously.
The dark-haired lord nodded his grudging acceptance, and with a meaningful look to the matron I retreated into my small office. I gathered my small bag that contained various odds-and-ends as well as my journal. Sighing, I scribbled a hasty note to Glorfindel apprising him of the situation, and I gave it to one of the young boys to deliver. I would have turned down Ecthelion if I didn’t fear reprimanding from either he or the King. That was the last thing I needed.
With more confidence than I felt I strode to the front doors where Ecthlion was now waiting for me. He seemed impatient and barely hid the irritated glare at my taking so long to be ready to leave. I personally saw no reason for his ire; I had only been a few minutes. He waved his hand at me to follow and I descended the few steps to the street outside the building. A covered carriage awaited us, and I with perfect poise I took his hand to help me inside. He said nothing as the carriage rumbled over the cobblestones in the direction of the palace.
I didn’t know whether to be intrigued for fearful.
The King’s receiving chambers where impeccable as usual when I entered. Perfectly decorated in reds and creams. Perfectly polished wood trimmings. Perfectly measured tapers shining warm, mellow light into the room. Perfect tapestries perfectly hung along the walls.
Perfectly revolting remembering all of the perfectly disgusting things that had been done to me in this room.
I went to my knees in front of the King and a guest I did not recognize where they were seated on one of the couches. I bowed my head respectfully, closing my eyes and waiting for whatever new hell Turgon had devised for me now. I heard Ecthelion step away and close the doors, leaving me alone with the other two occupants.
“You’re right, he is very beautiful.” The voice was unknown, and seemed to hold a deep and disturbing darkness that sent shivers of fear down my spine.
I opened my eyes slightly to gaze covertly at the stranger sitting next to the King. He was dark and rather ruggedly handsome, but the mad look in his eyes made me want to squirm in my perfectly posed bow. He reached out and took my chin in one large, warrior’s hand. I could feel the calluses on his fingers and palm, and I nearly flinched when those strong fingers tightened painfully on my flesh. However, I kept myself calm outwardly and looked into his strange, mad eyes.
“Such perfection. Like a sweet little doll.”
Turgon smiled and leaned back, taking a small drink from the expensive wine glass in his hand. “I knew you would enjoy him.”
“Indeed, uncle.”
Uncle? My mind searched frantically as to whom this would be…and could only come up with one answer: Maeglin. Son of the recently and unfortunately deceased Eöl and Aredhel; who’s death had been rather spectacular and caused quite the stir amongst the court.
“I hope he can help ease the sorrow the passing of your parents has surely caused.”
Maeglin smiled, and I shivered at the poison in the gesture. He surely felt the movement from where his hand was clamped tightly on my chin. His grip tightened even more.
“Dance for me, pretty one.”
I pulled away slowly, keeping eye contact with the dark lord as he released me. I stood elegantly and bowed, “As you wish, my lord.”
The fan that I used earlier to amuse children was again brought out as I danced slowly with the refined and poised moves that lords and politicians fought for the honor to witness. I danced to a tune running through my head, the room filled with only the crackle of the fire and the sounds of my gentle footfalls. They watched in pleased silence for a time, and then Turgon gave a quiet order for the dance to move into the realm of the sensual. I obeyed, movements becoming a little less precise and more smooth, fluid. My hips joined the dance, whereas before they had been kept in strict and perfect alignment.
I was reluctant when Turgon ordered me to start removing clothing. I went as slowly as I dared, shedding one piece of clothing after the other. It was humiliating in ways that undressing for just the King was not. I felt devoured as each piece of cloth dropped to the ground. The dance continued, until I was covered only in a thin shift that nearly qualified as nothing. The gossamer fabric was so fine as to be transparent, my body on display through a delicate fall of shimmering silk.
The dance ended as I knelt before the King and Maeglin again. This time, instead of my knees perfectly aligned, my back at the prescribed angle, and my hands placed flawlessly in my lap I had my legs spread apart provocatively with my hands braced behind me causing my back to arch. The shift was gathered up around my thighs.
“Oh, little one,” Maeglin purred as he leaned in to brush his hand over my cheek. “I’m going to love this.”
I didn’t have time to decipher what he meant before his hand connected sharply with my face.
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: None
Chapter: 12/?
Pairings: Durel/Turgon implied
Rating: NC-17 overall, R 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. An elven child with an age of 5-7 years old is approximately equal to a 4-5 year old human. This is an excerpt from Durel’s journal.
I sit in one of the small classrooms Glorfindel’s orphanage hosts. As I await the arrival of my next class, I cannot help but wonder what my students think of me. The classes I teach have children of many ages: from toddlers to young elves my age. There are a handful of other teachers beside myself, but I have taken over the majority of the education at this facility. The students my age regard me with an expression that I remember from living in the streets: one of inapproachability and hostility. Underneath that mask, what are they thinking? How do they view me, the pet of a wealthy Lord?
Some of them listen as I teach, others do not. I can easily tell those that still have hope and those that gave up long ago. Those with hope try very hard to learn what I freely give them. Those without regard me with apathy and hostility. They fail to see why they should waste their time learning letters and numbers while they could be dithering away what is left of their short lives with mind-numbing drugs. Those elves fail to see that there could be more, so much more than a quick snuffing of their immortal light with drugs and alcohol. Elven lives were not meant to be lived as the poor of Gondolin are forced to suffer. Elves need the sustenance of green and growing things, of light and love. We the immortal can sustain the gravest of physical wounds and recover, yet we can fade from lack of love in a heartbeat. We are both indestructible and utterly fragile all in one instant.
A handful of my students understand what we are trying to do for them. They try so very hard to excel in their studies. None of them have so far exhibited the type of learning rate that I am capable of, and I worry that they will not learn enough to obtain good jobs for them before they are too old to live at the orphanage any longer. However, I have never been one to give up a fight, and I will not start now.
*********((Next Entry))*********
After my last class of the day, I retire to the large common room that provides space for many functions of the facility. As I recline on a pillow in the corner, I watch small children run around the rug-covered floor with the energy of youngling forced to sit still for nearly an hour. These were the youngest children with the exception of the babies and toddlers at the orphanage. They ranged from around five to seven years old. I smile as they become more rambunctious, and one of the live-in matrons tried to quiet the raucous group.
They are all so adorable, every single one of them.
Several of the children goad me into dancing for them. The little faces sat in awed rapture as I elegantly moved through the steps. I danced with one of the little fans that I used to keep cool. It was not one of the beautifully decorated silk fans that I used to dance in public settings, but to the children it made no difference. After I finished a set, I let the children take turns trying to emulate me while dancing with my fan.
Inspired, I went to the classroom and gathered several pieces of paper. I gave the children pieces of colored wax to draw on the paper with, and then I showed them how to fold the paper into their very own fan.
The matron and I sat in the room as the children colored and decorated their fans. We talked about small, insignificant things, and time passed with unstrained ease.
That was, unstrained until he made an appearance. Lord Ecthelion was escorted into the common room by one of the caretakers. She bowed and left the room after properly announcing the arrival of the illustrious lord. The matron and I stood to courteously greet one of his station, although inside I was seething. I plastered a polite smile on my face, and quietly inquired what the lord’s business was.
Ecthelion smiled a small, calculated smile. “I have come to retrieve you for His Majesty. He requires your presence immediately. If you will please come with me?” he gestured for the door.
I was highly suspicious. Since when was Ecthelion Turgon’s messenger boy? Something underhanded was going on, but I could not tell if it was from Ecthelion’s end or Turgon’s. Or a combination of the two. I wouldn’t put it past either of them to be in league with one another.
“May I have a moment to gather my things?” I requested courteously.
The dark-haired lord nodded his grudging acceptance, and with a meaningful look to the matron I retreated into my small office. I gathered my small bag that contained various odds-and-ends as well as my journal. Sighing, I scribbled a hasty note to Glorfindel apprising him of the situation, and I gave it to one of the young boys to deliver. I would have turned down Ecthelion if I didn’t fear reprimanding from either he or the King. That was the last thing I needed.
With more confidence than I felt I strode to the front doors where Ecthlion was now waiting for me. He seemed impatient and barely hid the irritated glare at my taking so long to be ready to leave. I personally saw no reason for his ire; I had only been a few minutes. He waved his hand at me to follow and I descended the few steps to the street outside the building. A covered carriage awaited us, and I with perfect poise I took his hand to help me inside. He said nothing as the carriage rumbled over the cobblestones in the direction of the palace.
I didn’t know whether to be intrigued for fearful.
The King’s receiving chambers where impeccable as usual when I entered. Perfectly decorated in reds and creams. Perfectly polished wood trimmings. Perfectly measured tapers shining warm, mellow light into the room. Perfect tapestries perfectly hung along the walls.
Perfectly revolting remembering all of the perfectly disgusting things that had been done to me in this room.
I went to my knees in front of the King and a guest I did not recognize where they were seated on one of the couches. I bowed my head respectfully, closing my eyes and waiting for whatever new hell Turgon had devised for me now. I heard Ecthelion step away and close the doors, leaving me alone with the other two occupants.
“You’re right, he is very beautiful.” The voice was unknown, and seemed to hold a deep and disturbing darkness that sent shivers of fear down my spine.
I opened my eyes slightly to gaze covertly at the stranger sitting next to the King. He was dark and rather ruggedly handsome, but the mad look in his eyes made me want to squirm in my perfectly posed bow. He reached out and took my chin in one large, warrior’s hand. I could feel the calluses on his fingers and palm, and I nearly flinched when those strong fingers tightened painfully on my flesh. However, I kept myself calm outwardly and looked into his strange, mad eyes.
“Such perfection. Like a sweet little doll.”
Turgon smiled and leaned back, taking a small drink from the expensive wine glass in his hand. “I knew you would enjoy him.”
“Indeed, uncle.”
Uncle? My mind searched frantically as to whom this would be…and could only come up with one answer: Maeglin. Son of the recently and unfortunately deceased Eöl and Aredhel; who’s death had been rather spectacular and caused quite the stir amongst the court.
“I hope he can help ease the sorrow the passing of your parents has surely caused.”
Maeglin smiled, and I shivered at the poison in the gesture. He surely felt the movement from where his hand was clamped tightly on my chin. His grip tightened even more.
“Dance for me, pretty one.”
I pulled away slowly, keeping eye contact with the dark lord as he released me. I stood elegantly and bowed, “As you wish, my lord.”
The fan that I used earlier to amuse children was again brought out as I danced slowly with the refined and poised moves that lords and politicians fought for the honor to witness. I danced to a tune running through my head, the room filled with only the crackle of the fire and the sounds of my gentle footfalls. They watched in pleased silence for a time, and then Turgon gave a quiet order for the dance to move into the realm of the sensual. I obeyed, movements becoming a little less precise and more smooth, fluid. My hips joined the dance, whereas before they had been kept in strict and perfect alignment.
I was reluctant when Turgon ordered me to start removing clothing. I went as slowly as I dared, shedding one piece of clothing after the other. It was humiliating in ways that undressing for just the King was not. I felt devoured as each piece of cloth dropped to the ground. The dance continued, until I was covered only in a thin shift that nearly qualified as nothing. The gossamer fabric was so fine as to be transparent, my body on display through a delicate fall of shimmering silk.
The dance ended as I knelt before the King and Maeglin again. This time, instead of my knees perfectly aligned, my back at the prescribed angle, and my hands placed flawlessly in my lap I had my legs spread apart provocatively with my hands braced behind me causing my back to arch. The shift was gathered up around my thighs.
“Oh, little one,” Maeglin purred as he leaned in to brush his hand over my cheek. “I’m going to love this.”
I didn’t have time to decipher what he meant before his hand connected sharply with my face.
TBC…