Spring In Rivendell
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
13
Views:
6,717
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
13
Views:
6,717
Reviews:
6
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: Spring in Rivendell
Author: Lynsey
Beta: Spell-check
Chapter: 2/?
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: So far PG-13
Warnings: Slash, a rather rare view on elf sexuality, hermaphroditism
Summery: It’s spring time in the valley
Disclaimer: Don’t sue. All I got are college loans.
Erestor, utterly exasperated with the Seneschal next to him decided he was going to have to resort to the dirtiest, most underhanded, nasty trick in the book. He leaned close to the Elda, as close as he could possibly get without falling on him again, and he Purred (that’s right, capital P). He Purred, the elvish equivalent of stripping naked, laying on a bed, and saying “Fuck me now!”
It appealed to every primal instinct in Glorfindel, and before Erestor knew what had happened, he was on his back in the dust of the practice arena. Glorfindel was hovering over him, covering the councilor’s smaller body with his own, larger form. Glorfindel’s teeth where wrapped around the advisor’s throat, pressing insistently. Erestor whimpered, waiting for the bite that would leave Glorfindel’s claim on his body for all to see. He stretched his neck out as far as could to give his chosen mate as much room as possible. He felt the form of the large warrior above him begin to tremble, and the teeth clamped on his neck released before the claim had been laid. Erestor made a sound of protest, and he cupped the head above him to drag it back down to his vulnerable neck.
“No. No pen-neth. This is not right.” Glorfindel extracted himself from Erestor’s embrace and stood, looking down at the disheveled, shivering form on the ground below him. He felt dirty for lusting after one so young as Erestor. This was so wrong. Erestor was a CHILD compared to him! He should not be feeling such wicked things about a CHILD!
“Glorfindel. Please. Please have me!” Erestor pleaded in a strained voice.
Glorfindel began to walk away, but Erestor’s voice stopped him. He stood, still facing away from the advisor, but listening.
“What is so wrong, Glorfindel? I am the Chief Advisor of Imladris. I have shown my strength in battle. I am fully ready to take a mate and begin a family, and I choose you as my mate Glorfindel. There will never be another. I will wait for you for eternity if I have to. Please, don’t make me live without you.”
Glorfindel kept walking.
-----------------------------------------
Many centuries later, Erestor sat behind his desk in Lord Elrond’s study, going over the previous day’s reports. He was clad in his customary black robes and cowl, effectively hiding his body from view completely. Very few remembered what the advisor had actually looked like before he had taken to his current form of dress, and most of what they remembered was now no more than a myth. Some said he was a creature of great beauty. Others said he was so horribly hideous that none could look upon him. Those who knew simply kept quiet. The sweet, saucy little tart that had once graced Imladris with his presence was now replaced with a dour, cold old elf that residents avoided like a curse.
“How are the preparations for the Spring Festival coming?” Elrond asked from across the room.
Erestor sighed, “All is well, except that we have no dancers for the final night of the festivities.” The last night of the week long festival was the crowning glory on the most active week of courtship during the spring. The dancers for that night usually consisted of ellian to represent the fertility of the coming year, however this year they were lacking.
Elrond raised an eyebrow. “You must be joking.”
“Do I ever joke, Elrond?”
Elrond muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “You use to,” and then continued, “What about Lindir?”
“He has to be the minstrel that night as all of the other asked for the night off.”
“Lothvean?”
“He has asked to go with his bonded to Mirkwood for the festival.”
Elrond named every ellian in Imladris, and every name seemed to have an excuse. All except one.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” Erestor retorted.
“You know the dances. Before…” Elrond could feel Erestor’s Glare-of-Impending-Death even if he could not see the advisor’s face, and he stopped himself from following that line of thought. “I know that *you* know the dances, Erestor. Why do you not perform them this year?”
“You know why I do not, Elrond,” replied Erestor quietly.
“Maybe after all these years…” Elrond began
“No, Elrond.”
“What if I made it an order?”
“You would not dare.”
“Fine then. I make it an order that you will dance for the final night of the Spring Festival. Disobey this order and I will have *you* do the weapons inventory this year.” Which was the one thing Erestor avoided at all costs, considering Glorfindel had to be present for the entire ordeal.
“Come now, Elrond…”
“I’m not joking. See that you find yourself the appropriate garments.” Elrond went back to reading the parchments on his desk.
Erestor simply sat in stunned silence for some minutes. Then he continued to read his reports.
Author: Lynsey
Beta: Spell-check
Chapter: 2/?
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: So far PG-13
Warnings: Slash, a rather rare view on elf sexuality, hermaphroditism
Summery: It’s spring time in the valley
Disclaimer: Don’t sue. All I got are college loans.
Erestor, utterly exasperated with the Seneschal next to him decided he was going to have to resort to the dirtiest, most underhanded, nasty trick in the book. He leaned close to the Elda, as close as he could possibly get without falling on him again, and he Purred (that’s right, capital P). He Purred, the elvish equivalent of stripping naked, laying on a bed, and saying “Fuck me now!”
It appealed to every primal instinct in Glorfindel, and before Erestor knew what had happened, he was on his back in the dust of the practice arena. Glorfindel was hovering over him, covering the councilor’s smaller body with his own, larger form. Glorfindel’s teeth where wrapped around the advisor’s throat, pressing insistently. Erestor whimpered, waiting for the bite that would leave Glorfindel’s claim on his body for all to see. He stretched his neck out as far as could to give his chosen mate as much room as possible. He felt the form of the large warrior above him begin to tremble, and the teeth clamped on his neck released before the claim had been laid. Erestor made a sound of protest, and he cupped the head above him to drag it back down to his vulnerable neck.
“No. No pen-neth. This is not right.” Glorfindel extracted himself from Erestor’s embrace and stood, looking down at the disheveled, shivering form on the ground below him. He felt dirty for lusting after one so young as Erestor. This was so wrong. Erestor was a CHILD compared to him! He should not be feeling such wicked things about a CHILD!
“Glorfindel. Please. Please have me!” Erestor pleaded in a strained voice.
Glorfindel began to walk away, but Erestor’s voice stopped him. He stood, still facing away from the advisor, but listening.
“What is so wrong, Glorfindel? I am the Chief Advisor of Imladris. I have shown my strength in battle. I am fully ready to take a mate and begin a family, and I choose you as my mate Glorfindel. There will never be another. I will wait for you for eternity if I have to. Please, don’t make me live without you.”
Glorfindel kept walking.
-----------------------------------------
Many centuries later, Erestor sat behind his desk in Lord Elrond’s study, going over the previous day’s reports. He was clad in his customary black robes and cowl, effectively hiding his body from view completely. Very few remembered what the advisor had actually looked like before he had taken to his current form of dress, and most of what they remembered was now no more than a myth. Some said he was a creature of great beauty. Others said he was so horribly hideous that none could look upon him. Those who knew simply kept quiet. The sweet, saucy little tart that had once graced Imladris with his presence was now replaced with a dour, cold old elf that residents avoided like a curse.
“How are the preparations for the Spring Festival coming?” Elrond asked from across the room.
Erestor sighed, “All is well, except that we have no dancers for the final night of the festivities.” The last night of the week long festival was the crowning glory on the most active week of courtship during the spring. The dancers for that night usually consisted of ellian to represent the fertility of the coming year, however this year they were lacking.
Elrond raised an eyebrow. “You must be joking.”
“Do I ever joke, Elrond?”
Elrond muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “You use to,” and then continued, “What about Lindir?”
“He has to be the minstrel that night as all of the other asked for the night off.”
“Lothvean?”
“He has asked to go with his bonded to Mirkwood for the festival.”
Elrond named every ellian in Imladris, and every name seemed to have an excuse. All except one.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” Erestor retorted.
“You know the dances. Before…” Elrond could feel Erestor’s Glare-of-Impending-Death even if he could not see the advisor’s face, and he stopped himself from following that line of thought. “I know that *you* know the dances, Erestor. Why do you not perform them this year?”
“You know why I do not, Elrond,” replied Erestor quietly.
“Maybe after all these years…” Elrond began
“No, Elrond.”
“What if I made it an order?”
“You would not dare.”
“Fine then. I make it an order that you will dance for the final night of the Spring Festival. Disobey this order and I will have *you* do the weapons inventory this year.” Which was the one thing Erestor avoided at all costs, considering Glorfindel had to be present for the entire ordeal.
“Come now, Elrond…”
“I’m not joking. See that you find yourself the appropriate garments.” Elrond went back to reading the parchments on his desk.
Erestor simply sat in stunned silence for some minutes. Then he continued to read his reports.