Faded Light: Book II
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
12,215
Reviews:
46
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
12,215
Reviews:
46
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Characters and places belong to JRR Tolkien and to his estate. I own only my OC's and twisted storylines.
Visions
(For additional notes and disclaimers, please see top of Chapter 1.)
= Here’s the next one...thank you for all the lovely reviews, Del, BronxWench, Sarah, ziggy3, Eli and everyone else out there. I always worry about going over the top with the angst and emotions and having the whole thing turn into an unreadable melodrama, so I try to be subtle; I’m glad it’s worked so far that you all think it’s well written and are enjoying it...
As for my updates, I’ve come up with a posting schedule that, if I stick to it, should keep the story moving into February, and hopefully by then I’ll have a few more chapters ready. So, for about the next six to eight weeks there should be a new one up about every five days...I hope to post Chapter 22 either this Saturday or by Tuesday...(Oh and there will be a sexy Leralonde/Saelbeth chapter in the future, though probably not until about the middle or the end of February...) =
Chapter 21
Visions
...the Man’s face had haunted him every night since he had first seen him in Mena’s stone.
Surely he was someone of importance or the dark priest would not seek his death, but Dafi could find no cause that he should haunt his dreams.
He was only a Man, after all, and he had known few Men who did not seek to cause others pain at every opportunity, even to their own...
But there was rare nobility in this strange Man...
“He will be at the palace in Horondor. You will catch his attention and find your way to him. You know what you must do after that...
"It will be quick, I promise...there is no need for him to linger."
What was so important about this Man that he must die...?
"...but I am bound to this darkness; I dare not refuse.”
Of late, however, as he had allowed Arya’s words that night to consume so many of his thoughts, images of half-starved, abused Elf children fading in the slaver’s dungeons, or lost Elflings in the middle of the chaos of the war had also begun to haunt his nightmares...
No matter what he did in his dreams he couldn’t reach his child (sometimes it was Mel he saw, sometimes a blond Elfling that resembled what he had imagined his son might have looked like,) they were always too far away or were suddenly snatched away by Arya or Kebu or Bardia, or by Orcs that appeared out of nowhere...
And now, his dreams had become even stranger. He saw himself in the wilderness, in the company of Men, a Dwarf and a group of Perian...while other times, the path of his dreams led him and these same strange companions to wander beneath the ancient Mallorn trees of the Golden Wood, which he had visited a few times as a child though it had been centuries now since he had been there.
The last time, he had been bidding farewell to Nardol, his trusted bodyguard and mentor...
“...I did not think this would be so hard...”
“I will miss you too My Prince, but the time comes for each of us and it is mine now.
“My heart has long yearned to be reunited with my wife and for the peace of Valinor, but I have remained as long as I could...”
“Iston, but what am I supposed to do without you,” he had said in the petulant tone of one much younger. “Ruthlagor will certainly make sure to assign the most tedious person he can find to take your place...he’ll probably make it a requirement for the job...”
“I am sure your uncle will find a suitable replacement for me...”
“It won’t be the same...I’ve always been able to talk to you about anything...Adar and Gwador, they still treat me like I’m 80 years old...
“...who’s supposed to correct my swordsmanship and keep me out of trouble now?”
The warrior smiled indulgently and raised a blond eyebrow, “Your Highness’ swordsmanship needs little correcting...and I’ll trust you to keep yourself out of trouble until we meet again in the Blessed Realm.”
He sobered for a moment, “It has been an honor to serve you My Prince...I am sorry I won’t be around to see the warrior and King you will be...”
The elder smiled again, “Now, shall we bid farewell before we both lose our composure in an unseemly manner which Ruthlagor would certainly disapprove of...”?
The Prince stood up straighter and tried to comport himself as Nardol had always expected though he felt far from in control of his emotions at the moment, “Namaarie, Melon Nin,” he said. “Harthon gerithach aeair vilui. Raid lîn celin a melthin”
“Ná Elbereth veria le, ernil nin...ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín. Harthon gerithach nîn velui ar lalaith veren na-lû govaded vîn.”
“Guren niniatha nan lû i ammin achenitham ir i lû telitha...”
He turned away and shut his eyes, not wanting to be in this memory anymore...
“I don’t want to be here...” he clamped his hands tightly over his ears and screamed louder inside his own head. “I don’t want to be here!...”
=====================================
He awoke with a start in the darkness of the king’s chamber, further disturbed to realize he’d had his eyes closed, and felt Javad shift slightly behind him, hot breath stirring the fine hair on the back of his neck.
Valar, what are these mad dreams...? Maybe Numair is right...those herbs are starting to affect my mind...
“Are you alright,” murmured the Man behind him only half-awake, running a hand over his back.
“Aye, my king,” he said. “Forgive me...it was just very vivid dream,” he explained. “I’m sorry for waking you.”
“What was it about?” Javad asked, his voice still groggy from sleep, his arm going around the Elf’s waist...
The slave hesitated and, forced himself not to laugh at how absurd it sounded to his own ears, “I was traveling somewhere with a group of Perian,” he said.
“I’ve never even seen one...” He kept the rest of the dream to himself and did not go into detail or mention what else he had been dreaming about...
“...a strange dream indeed,” the King mumbled sleepily, kissing his neck. “Are you well now?”
“Yes, it was only a foolish dream.”
“Are you sure that was all?” the king insisted curiously. “You were weeping.”
“Was I?” Dafi touched his own hand to his face, which he hadn’t realized was damp.
“...it must have been more distressing that I thought...but I don’t remember that part,” he lied, wiping at his face, “forgive me, my lord...”
Fingers ghosted over his cheek and he closed his eyes, momentarily grateful for the brief moment of comfort, which he never really allowed himself to feel even on those rare occasions it was offered...though he could not deny Javad in his way had at least tried to be good to him all these years...
Once in a while, he had even tried to get the courtesan to enjoy the act; though of course the Man did not fathom just how abhorrent the very idea of sexual pleasure had become to the slave, even on the rare occasions his body was compelled to experience it...
Fleetingly, he wondered whether there would ever be anyone in his life he would actually want these things from, gentle comfort in the middle of the night, intimate touches, physical pleasure, or if it would all always be a pretence for him.
It did not seem likely, for who among his own kind would want one so defiled by Mortal Men as he had been...
If he could somehow make it to Valinor, he would try to find healing there. But he was sure his heart was destined to remain forever locked away in that little distant corner where he had all these years secreted whatever remained of the person he had been...
He closed his eyes and tried to ignore that walled off part of his soul and the vague ache for something he no longer had any right to desire and to blot out the visions of his nightmares and the dark voices in his head...
He let the king’s arm around his waist pull him closer and felt the Man’s breath even out as he relaxed back into a sound sleep. The courtesan had always envied the Man his sleep when he himself had not had truly restful slumber in all his years in Harad...
And he thought of Nardol and his dream; what would the great warrior have thought if he could see the Prince he had served, abased in such a way, in a Human King’s bed...and worse, a pawn for Sauron’s priest. Almost, he thought, it would have been even more humiliating to have faced his mentor’s disappointment than his own father’s...
What if Nardol was there at the harbor when he reached Valinor...could he bear that?
But if not to Valinor what escape was there...?
It was a long time before the slave found any rest, his mind still full of dark visions of lost Elf children, strange places he had never seen, Hobbits, and the mysterious Man from Mena’s stone...
Watching the approach of dawn, he thought about the things he must do...the plans he had been forming for weeks now...and he remembered Mena’s words long ago and wondered if it was even possible that he be allowed to escape with his life, “Do not refuse the will of Sauron. Or whatever punishment you ever received from the slavers will seem a kindness.”
Javad had not yet mentioned anything about his next journey to Horondor, but if Mena was right and the King planned to take the slave when he next visited Near Harad, Dafi would find a way for Mel to reach Gondor...
He would write a letter, and once in Horondor he would find a way to save his daughter...what happened to him after that didn’t much matter. He had given up any expectation for his own future long ago...perhaps he would find his own escape or remain in Mena’s grip...but that was not important now...
He only had to endure long enough to reach Horondor with Mel and pray that his letter would reach its destination...
===================================
“Are you all right, Penneth?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I think it’s been about two centuries since I saw you drink anything stronger than a glass of Miruvor...” said Vaurna taking a seat and pouring a drink for himself.
It had been three days since the Orc attack, and no one in the Healing Rooms had had any rest that lasted more than a few minutes, caring for the survivors that came in hour after hour on the first day and warriors returning wounded from hunting the Orcs who committed the assault. But the elder Elf did not think any of that was the reason for the dispirited look on Tadion’s face just now.
“I think that was about the last time I really had to deal with Hirgon.” The youth drained his glass and put it down, considering it for a long moment before looking up at his mentor again.
“The villages that were attacked were near our family’s lands,” he explained. “He came in here awhile ago to see about some of his warriors who were wounded.”
The ancient Healer nodded, understanding. “I had thought perhaps it was another who was responsible for your state of mind.”
“I saw him too...fortunately he was far too busy not to ignore me...
“I suppose even my brother’s influence couldn’t keep him away until the next Age,” the younger Elf muttered bitterly.
“He’s not only back I’m afraid...
“Some of Uruvion’s warriors are Sailing soon and he’s taking one of their posts with the House Guard.”
“Damn...
“I don’t think there is a drink strong enough if I have to long be under the same roof as that...as that Elf...”
He studied his glass seriously again before pushing it aside, a resolved look on his face. “Worry not Iaur pen...many things change in four centuries...and he’ll find I’m not the same biddable Elfling I was back then...”
TBC...
Elvish Translations:
Perian / Hobbit
Ada, adar / Father, dad, daddy
Gwador / brother
Namaarie, melon nin... / Farewell, my friend...
I hope you will have kind seas. / Harthon gerithach aeair vilui.
And May your ways be green and golden / Raid lîn celin a melthin
Ná Elbereth veria le, ernil nin...ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín. / May Elbereth protect you, my prince, may her stars shine on the path of your life.
I hope you will have sweet waters and joyous laughter until our next meeting. / Harthon gerithach nîn velui ar lalaith veren na-lû govaded vîn.
My heart shall weep / Guren niniatha nan lû i ammin achenitham
Until then / Ir i lû telitha
Nin Brannon / My Lord
Penneth / Young One
Miruvor / Elven drink; warm and fragrant clear cordial of the Elves.
Iaur pen / Old One
= Here’s the next one...thank you for all the lovely reviews, Del, BronxWench, Sarah, ziggy3, Eli and everyone else out there. I always worry about going over the top with the angst and emotions and having the whole thing turn into an unreadable melodrama, so I try to be subtle; I’m glad it’s worked so far that you all think it’s well written and are enjoying it...
As for my updates, I’ve come up with a posting schedule that, if I stick to it, should keep the story moving into February, and hopefully by then I’ll have a few more chapters ready. So, for about the next six to eight weeks there should be a new one up about every five days...I hope to post Chapter 22 either this Saturday or by Tuesday...(Oh and there will be a sexy Leralonde/Saelbeth chapter in the future, though probably not until about the middle or the end of February...) =
Visions
...the Man’s face had haunted him every night since he had first seen him in Mena’s stone.
Surely he was someone of importance or the dark priest would not seek his death, but Dafi could find no cause that he should haunt his dreams.
He was only a Man, after all, and he had known few Men who did not seek to cause others pain at every opportunity, even to their own...
But there was rare nobility in this strange Man...
“He will be at the palace in Horondor. You will catch his attention and find your way to him. You know what you must do after that...
"It will be quick, I promise...there is no need for him to linger."
What was so important about this Man that he must die...?
"...but I am bound to this darkness; I dare not refuse.”
Of late, however, as he had allowed Arya’s words that night to consume so many of his thoughts, images of half-starved, abused Elf children fading in the slaver’s dungeons, or lost Elflings in the middle of the chaos of the war had also begun to haunt his nightmares...
No matter what he did in his dreams he couldn’t reach his child (sometimes it was Mel he saw, sometimes a blond Elfling that resembled what he had imagined his son might have looked like,) they were always too far away or were suddenly snatched away by Arya or Kebu or Bardia, or by Orcs that appeared out of nowhere...
And now, his dreams had become even stranger. He saw himself in the wilderness, in the company of Men, a Dwarf and a group of Perian...while other times, the path of his dreams led him and these same strange companions to wander beneath the ancient Mallorn trees of the Golden Wood, which he had visited a few times as a child though it had been centuries now since he had been there.
The last time, he had been bidding farewell to Nardol, his trusted bodyguard and mentor...
“...I did not think this would be so hard...”
“I will miss you too My Prince, but the time comes for each of us and it is mine now.
“My heart has long yearned to be reunited with my wife and for the peace of Valinor, but I have remained as long as I could...”
“Iston, but what am I supposed to do without you,” he had said in the petulant tone of one much younger. “Ruthlagor will certainly make sure to assign the most tedious person he can find to take your place...he’ll probably make it a requirement for the job...”
“I am sure your uncle will find a suitable replacement for me...”
“It won’t be the same...I’ve always been able to talk to you about anything...Adar and Gwador, they still treat me like I’m 80 years old...
“...who’s supposed to correct my swordsmanship and keep me out of trouble now?”
The warrior smiled indulgently and raised a blond eyebrow, “Your Highness’ swordsmanship needs little correcting...and I’ll trust you to keep yourself out of trouble until we meet again in the Blessed Realm.”
He sobered for a moment, “It has been an honor to serve you My Prince...I am sorry I won’t be around to see the warrior and King you will be...”
The elder smiled again, “Now, shall we bid farewell before we both lose our composure in an unseemly manner which Ruthlagor would certainly disapprove of...”?
The Prince stood up straighter and tried to comport himself as Nardol had always expected though he felt far from in control of his emotions at the moment, “Namaarie, Melon Nin,” he said. “Harthon gerithach aeair vilui. Raid lîn celin a melthin”
“Ná Elbereth veria le, ernil nin...ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín. Harthon gerithach nîn velui ar lalaith veren na-lû govaded vîn.”
“Guren niniatha nan lû i ammin achenitham ir i lû telitha...”
He turned away and shut his eyes, not wanting to be in this memory anymore...
“I don’t want to be here...” he clamped his hands tightly over his ears and screamed louder inside his own head. “I don’t want to be here!...”
=====================================
He awoke with a start in the darkness of the king’s chamber, further disturbed to realize he’d had his eyes closed, and felt Javad shift slightly behind him, hot breath stirring the fine hair on the back of his neck.
Valar, what are these mad dreams...? Maybe Numair is right...those herbs are starting to affect my mind...
“Are you alright,” murmured the Man behind him only half-awake, running a hand over his back.
“Aye, my king,” he said. “Forgive me...it was just very vivid dream,” he explained. “I’m sorry for waking you.”
“What was it about?” Javad asked, his voice still groggy from sleep, his arm going around the Elf’s waist...
The slave hesitated and, forced himself not to laugh at how absurd it sounded to his own ears, “I was traveling somewhere with a group of Perian,” he said.
“I’ve never even seen one...” He kept the rest of the dream to himself and did not go into detail or mention what else he had been dreaming about...
“...a strange dream indeed,” the King mumbled sleepily, kissing his neck. “Are you well now?”
“Yes, it was only a foolish dream.”
“Are you sure that was all?” the king insisted curiously. “You were weeping.”
“Was I?” Dafi touched his own hand to his face, which he hadn’t realized was damp.
“...it must have been more distressing that I thought...but I don’t remember that part,” he lied, wiping at his face, “forgive me, my lord...”
Fingers ghosted over his cheek and he closed his eyes, momentarily grateful for the brief moment of comfort, which he never really allowed himself to feel even on those rare occasions it was offered...though he could not deny Javad in his way had at least tried to be good to him all these years...
Once in a while, he had even tried to get the courtesan to enjoy the act; though of course the Man did not fathom just how abhorrent the very idea of sexual pleasure had become to the slave, even on the rare occasions his body was compelled to experience it...
Fleetingly, he wondered whether there would ever be anyone in his life he would actually want these things from, gentle comfort in the middle of the night, intimate touches, physical pleasure, or if it would all always be a pretence for him.
It did not seem likely, for who among his own kind would want one so defiled by Mortal Men as he had been...
If he could somehow make it to Valinor, he would try to find healing there. But he was sure his heart was destined to remain forever locked away in that little distant corner where he had all these years secreted whatever remained of the person he had been...
He closed his eyes and tried to ignore that walled off part of his soul and the vague ache for something he no longer had any right to desire and to blot out the visions of his nightmares and the dark voices in his head...
He let the king’s arm around his waist pull him closer and felt the Man’s breath even out as he relaxed back into a sound sleep. The courtesan had always envied the Man his sleep when he himself had not had truly restful slumber in all his years in Harad...
And he thought of Nardol and his dream; what would the great warrior have thought if he could see the Prince he had served, abased in such a way, in a Human King’s bed...and worse, a pawn for Sauron’s priest. Almost, he thought, it would have been even more humiliating to have faced his mentor’s disappointment than his own father’s...
What if Nardol was there at the harbor when he reached Valinor...could he bear that?
But if not to Valinor what escape was there...?
It was a long time before the slave found any rest, his mind still full of dark visions of lost Elf children, strange places he had never seen, Hobbits, and the mysterious Man from Mena’s stone...
Watching the approach of dawn, he thought about the things he must do...the plans he had been forming for weeks now...and he remembered Mena’s words long ago and wondered if it was even possible that he be allowed to escape with his life, “Do not refuse the will of Sauron. Or whatever punishment you ever received from the slavers will seem a kindness.”
Javad had not yet mentioned anything about his next journey to Horondor, but if Mena was right and the King planned to take the slave when he next visited Near Harad, Dafi would find a way for Mel to reach Gondor...
He would write a letter, and once in Horondor he would find a way to save his daughter...what happened to him after that didn’t much matter. He had given up any expectation for his own future long ago...perhaps he would find his own escape or remain in Mena’s grip...but that was not important now...
He only had to endure long enough to reach Horondor with Mel and pray that his letter would reach its destination...
===================================
“Are you all right, Penneth?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I think it’s been about two centuries since I saw you drink anything stronger than a glass of Miruvor...” said Vaurna taking a seat and pouring a drink for himself.
It had been three days since the Orc attack, and no one in the Healing Rooms had had any rest that lasted more than a few minutes, caring for the survivors that came in hour after hour on the first day and warriors returning wounded from hunting the Orcs who committed the assault. But the elder Elf did not think any of that was the reason for the dispirited look on Tadion’s face just now.
“I think that was about the last time I really had to deal with Hirgon.” The youth drained his glass and put it down, considering it for a long moment before looking up at his mentor again.
“The villages that were attacked were near our family’s lands,” he explained. “He came in here awhile ago to see about some of his warriors who were wounded.”
The ancient Healer nodded, understanding. “I had thought perhaps it was another who was responsible for your state of mind.”
“I saw him too...fortunately he was far too busy not to ignore me...
“I suppose even my brother’s influence couldn’t keep him away until the next Age,” the younger Elf muttered bitterly.
“He’s not only back I’m afraid...
“Some of Uruvion’s warriors are Sailing soon and he’s taking one of their posts with the House Guard.”
“Damn...
“I don’t think there is a drink strong enough if I have to long be under the same roof as that...as that Elf...”
He studied his glass seriously again before pushing it aside, a resolved look on his face. “Worry not Iaur pen...many things change in four centuries...and he’ll find I’m not the same biddable Elfling I was back then...”
TBC...
Elvish Translations:
Perian / Hobbit
Ada, adar / Father, dad, daddy
Gwador / brother
Namaarie, melon nin... / Farewell, my friend...
I hope you will have kind seas. / Harthon gerithach aeair vilui.
And May your ways be green and golden / Raid lîn celin a melthin
Ná Elbereth veria le, ernil nin...ná elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín. / May Elbereth protect you, my prince, may her stars shine on the path of your life.
I hope you will have sweet waters and joyous laughter until our next meeting. / Harthon gerithach nîn velui ar lalaith veren na-lû govaded vîn.
My heart shall weep / Guren niniatha nan lû i ammin achenitham
Until then / Ir i lû telitha
Nin Brannon / My Lord
Penneth / Young One
Miruvor / Elven drink; warm and fragrant clear cordial of the Elves.
Iaur pen / Old One