Cinderestor
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
4,291
Reviews:
15
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
4,291
Reviews:
15
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.
Chapter 2
Title: Cinderestor
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Author: Lynsey
Beta: None
Chapter: 2/?
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17 for adult themes
Warnings: Slash (male elf loving male elf), suicidal thoughts
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue, all I got are college loans, and this isn’t helping to pay them off.
Summery: A dark!Cinderella inspired story featuring Erestor and Glorfindel.
Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower stood on his balcony overlooking the city while the light of the rising sun gleamed over the rooftops. Tonight would be the night of the masked ball to be held in his honor. Tonight would be the night he chose an elf to court and eventually take to mate.
He sighed and moved into his luxurious bedroom. He lay down on a bed made up with soft, lavish blankets and silken sheets. He lay back, imagining soft, dark hair the color of a raven’s wing. The black tresses glinting with the darkest of blue highlights. Eyes the color of rich cinnamon gazed at him through a fringe of coal-dark eyelashes. Slender of frame, softly spoken was the ellon he saw in his mind.
The golden lord slowly reached to unlace his leggings, and he pulled out his stiffening erection. Every night since his majority he had been having dreams. Dreams of the dark ellon that set his blood to boiling and his heart to breaking. One of these dreams had awoken him this very night, bringing him no sleep.
The dream would start out with him as a child, playing with one of his childhood friends. His friend had been so quiet, so much smaller than the other elflings. He had also been a good deal more intelligent than any of them. The darkling elf had been teased mercilessly until Glorfindel had taken him as a friend. Then one day, his companion had stopped coming to school, and no question asked of his parents had drawn a satisfactory answer. At the time, he had been too young to understand the worth of knowing another elf’s House, and so he had never bothered to learn the title of his friend’s House. Now, as an adult, he had no idea where to start looking for any information about his friend.
As the dream would progress, he would see his friend grow into a lovely young elf. His heart would take a plunging leap every time he would see the beautiful elf smile or laugh. Oh, how he missed this elf! What he would give to see this sweet being again!
He finally came, shouting the name of his long-lost friend.
“Erestor!”
--------------------------------------------------
The Vala of Dreams smiled as he watched Glorfindel in his bed chamber. Their plans were nearly complete.
--------------------------------------------------
Erestor watched as the carriage containing his step-family rolled out of sight. He silently sat on the stone step of the hearth, watching the fire. He leaned up against the rough stones of the fireplace and tucked his knees up to his chest. He had watched Celairion dress this night, and he knew for a fact that even the Valar themselves would have a hard time resisting the golden haired beauty. Glorfindel would probably fall head-over-heels for him.
Despite his best efforts, he released a strangled sob. He had hungered and dreamed and wished for so long that he hoped that, just maybe, this time one of his wishes would come true. But as he had watched the carriage roll away, he had known that he would never be allowed to have happiness.
He slowly stood and walked to sink of dishes, intending to get them finished before he slept this night. With tears still running down his face he plunged his hands into the water, only to quickly draw his left hand back up as one of his fingers was cut by a knife laying hidden under the bubbles. He grasped the knife in his right hand and brought it up out of the water.
He watched as the red of his blood dripped down into the suds in the basin.
He watched the glimmer of the fire-light play on the silver blade.
Gradually, he brought the blade to his throat.
He closed his eyes.
Drew in a deep breath.
“I would not do that if I were you.”
Erestor spun around, dropping the knife in the process. He stared.
“It would create quite the mess, I’m sure. Besides, we have better things to do this night.”
Erestor quickly backed up into a corner. “Wh…Who…Who are you?” he demanded in a quavering voice.
“Me?” asked the scraggly, bearded old man sitting at the kitchen table. “Why, my name is Mithrandir, young one. I‘m you‘re Godfather. Your Adar and I were very good friends.”
“What do you want?” Erestor’s voice was a little firmer now, but it lacked any real threat and held a large amount of suspicion. His hands shook violently, and small shudders wracked his wasted frame.
The old man smiled gently. “I want you to go to the ball.”
Erestor let out a disbelieving laugh before he had a chance to think about his response. “You want me…*ME*…to go to the ball. What am I to wear? The potato sack? At least it wouldn’t have any holes in it!”
Again, Mithrandir smiled. He slowly pulled his cloak to the side and revealed a tightly bundled, black object. As he unfurled it, Erestor gasped. It was a robe of deepest black velvet. Patterns depicting the raven of his House were set into it with black silk, and it was lined in a dark blue to match the highlights in his hair. Entranced, Erestor forgot his fright and walked toward the garment. He reached out hesitantly to touch it, as if it might bite. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured.
“And you will look beautiful wearing it.”
Erestor smiled. A small, watery smile, but it was a smile none the less. An expression that had been absent from his face for far too many years. “But…” he gestured at the marks covering his neck, and his skinny, wasted appearance.
“The robe is cut to hide the markings upon your body, and it will hide how thin you are.”
Erestor’s smile became a little brighter.
The old man’s eyes twinkled in good spirit. “Now, let’s get you ready for the ball.”
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Author: Lynsey
Beta: None
Chapter: 2/?
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17 for adult themes
Warnings: Slash (male elf loving male elf), suicidal thoughts
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue, all I got are college loans, and this isn’t helping to pay them off.
Summery: A dark!Cinderella inspired story featuring Erestor and Glorfindel.
Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower stood on his balcony overlooking the city while the light of the rising sun gleamed over the rooftops. Tonight would be the night of the masked ball to be held in his honor. Tonight would be the night he chose an elf to court and eventually take to mate.
He sighed and moved into his luxurious bedroom. He lay down on a bed made up with soft, lavish blankets and silken sheets. He lay back, imagining soft, dark hair the color of a raven’s wing. The black tresses glinting with the darkest of blue highlights. Eyes the color of rich cinnamon gazed at him through a fringe of coal-dark eyelashes. Slender of frame, softly spoken was the ellon he saw in his mind.
The golden lord slowly reached to unlace his leggings, and he pulled out his stiffening erection. Every night since his majority he had been having dreams. Dreams of the dark ellon that set his blood to boiling and his heart to breaking. One of these dreams had awoken him this very night, bringing him no sleep.
The dream would start out with him as a child, playing with one of his childhood friends. His friend had been so quiet, so much smaller than the other elflings. He had also been a good deal more intelligent than any of them. The darkling elf had been teased mercilessly until Glorfindel had taken him as a friend. Then one day, his companion had stopped coming to school, and no question asked of his parents had drawn a satisfactory answer. At the time, he had been too young to understand the worth of knowing another elf’s House, and so he had never bothered to learn the title of his friend’s House. Now, as an adult, he had no idea where to start looking for any information about his friend.
As the dream would progress, he would see his friend grow into a lovely young elf. His heart would take a plunging leap every time he would see the beautiful elf smile or laugh. Oh, how he missed this elf! What he would give to see this sweet being again!
He finally came, shouting the name of his long-lost friend.
“Erestor!”
--------------------------------------------------
The Vala of Dreams smiled as he watched Glorfindel in his bed chamber. Their plans were nearly complete.
--------------------------------------------------
Erestor watched as the carriage containing his step-family rolled out of sight. He silently sat on the stone step of the hearth, watching the fire. He leaned up against the rough stones of the fireplace and tucked his knees up to his chest. He had watched Celairion dress this night, and he knew for a fact that even the Valar themselves would have a hard time resisting the golden haired beauty. Glorfindel would probably fall head-over-heels for him.
Despite his best efforts, he released a strangled sob. He had hungered and dreamed and wished for so long that he hoped that, just maybe, this time one of his wishes would come true. But as he had watched the carriage roll away, he had known that he would never be allowed to have happiness.
He slowly stood and walked to sink of dishes, intending to get them finished before he slept this night. With tears still running down his face he plunged his hands into the water, only to quickly draw his left hand back up as one of his fingers was cut by a knife laying hidden under the bubbles. He grasped the knife in his right hand and brought it up out of the water.
He watched as the red of his blood dripped down into the suds in the basin.
He watched the glimmer of the fire-light play on the silver blade.
Gradually, he brought the blade to his throat.
He closed his eyes.
Drew in a deep breath.
“I would not do that if I were you.”
Erestor spun around, dropping the knife in the process. He stared.
“It would create quite the mess, I’m sure. Besides, we have better things to do this night.”
Erestor quickly backed up into a corner. “Wh…Who…Who are you?” he demanded in a quavering voice.
“Me?” asked the scraggly, bearded old man sitting at the kitchen table. “Why, my name is Mithrandir, young one. I‘m you‘re Godfather. Your Adar and I were very good friends.”
“What do you want?” Erestor’s voice was a little firmer now, but it lacked any real threat and held a large amount of suspicion. His hands shook violently, and small shudders wracked his wasted frame.
The old man smiled gently. “I want you to go to the ball.”
Erestor let out a disbelieving laugh before he had a chance to think about his response. “You want me…*ME*…to go to the ball. What am I to wear? The potato sack? At least it wouldn’t have any holes in it!”
Again, Mithrandir smiled. He slowly pulled his cloak to the side and revealed a tightly bundled, black object. As he unfurled it, Erestor gasped. It was a robe of deepest black velvet. Patterns depicting the raven of his House were set into it with black silk, and it was lined in a dark blue to match the highlights in his hair. Entranced, Erestor forgot his fright and walked toward the garment. He reached out hesitantly to touch it, as if it might bite. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured.
“And you will look beautiful wearing it.”
Erestor smiled. A small, watery smile, but it was a smile none the less. An expression that had been absent from his face for far too many years. “But…” he gestured at the marks covering his neck, and his skinny, wasted appearance.
“The robe is cut to hide the markings upon your body, and it will hide how thin you are.”
Erestor’s smile became a little brighter.
The old man’s eyes twinkled in good spirit. “Now, let’s get you ready for the ball.”