Half the Distance

Title: Half the Distance
Series: Innocence Stripped Away
Chapter: Twenty-One : Haunting
Author: Orchyd Constyne
Contact: soultornasunder@gmail.com
Website: http://www.hithanaur.net/
Update List: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nairn_orchyd/
Fandom: LOTR
Archive: OEAM
Disclaimer: I do not own LotR or any characters, lands, or items from the Tolkien world. They belong to their respective copyright holders.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: BDSM, twincest
Beta: Alex
Cast: Erestor/Glorfindel, Glorfindel/Thranduil, Thranduil/OMC, Erestor/OMC, Legolas/Elladan/Elrohir
Summary: Following the events of "Something Special, Something Sacred", Erestor finds himself in a dark pit of despair and fear as his bond with Glorfindel is threatened, stretched, and remade. Legolas returns to the valley where his heart was once broken to find a second chance and a new way of seeing those around him. Thranduil has lusted after Glorfindel's submission for years, and now that Erestor has opened the door for him, he intends to capture the elusive warrior as his own submissive.

---

Imladris, Spring, Third Age 2086

The room was relatively small compared to what was typically given to Elves of Erestor's status. It was a nondescript room that contained no more than a narrow bed, functional table, two chairs, and a basin of water. The only window was high near the ceiling, hardly a hand span tall and nearly the length of an Elf's arm. It was simple. It was also one of the few rooms in the House of Healing that locked from the outside.

Erestor sat in one of the chairs, carefully groomed, wearing one of his more severe-looking black robes. He was too pale, too thin, and dark circles had appeared under his glittering eyes. He had been sitting, silent and unmoving, since Elrond entered the room and sat across from him. Erestor was a patient, calculating sort of individual, and he chose to wait out the silence, to force Elrond to speak first.

And Elrond did not disappoint him.

"You realise you are broken," Elrond said, his voice smooth and professional.

"Yes," Erestor evenly replied.

"We would like to fix that."

"I would like you to fix it."

Elrond became uncertain, a slight frown marring his face. "I am... not really certain *how* to do that."

Erestor nodded once, closing his eyes. "I appreciate your honesty, Elrond."

"Let us simply talk about it, Erestor, and see what comes of it," Elrond suggested, resting his elbows on the arms of the chair and folding his hands before his chin.

"It was not bad all the time," Erestor murmured, uncertain, the first true expression finding itself on his face.

Elrond gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Tell me how it began."

"It was innocent enough," Erestor said, looking away from Elrond. "I behaved in the capacity of his personal valet. I would dress him, undress him, attend to him in the bathing chamber, work the kinks out of his muscles after a strenuous day's exercise... Very simple, and I was happy to serve thusly. I would clean his quarters for him daily. About six months into my service with him, I discovered it. His playroom. I noticed it hidden behind a large painting because he'd left a lamp burning inside. The light played under the threshold, and I entered without permission." He closed his eyes, remembering the day vividly. "He knew I had been inside, as any Ingor would, and he questioned me about it. Authon knew my preferences, for all of Lindon had known I was yours before the Lady came into your life, and so I found no qualm with what he did with his lovers."

Elrond remained quiet, allowing Erestor to tell the tale as he felt comfortable. He remembered vividly how much joy Erestor received by serving those he loved; he understood the need in his friend to find such joys while fulfilling his debt.

"Things changed," Erestor continued, his voice low. "I *wanted* to submit, and he wanted to dominate, and it was natural to allow the relationship to progress. It was so slow, insidious almost, how it happened. Paddling gave way to binding which gave way to whippings and, eventually, I yielded to him upon the mattress." A pale pinkness stole across Erestor's cheeks. "I missed you. I wanted you. I didn't want to be there with him; I didn't want to feel his lash or his sex. Every boundary I had was quickly washed away by his hand, redrawn in my blood, and I... endured... I kept enduring... because I *owed* him--" Erestor's hands gripped the arms of the chair, and his voice became tight.

Sensing his friend's distress, Elrond quickly brought the conversation to a halt. "We have begun," he said gently. "This can continue later. It is a good start, Erestor."

***

Over the weeks that followed, they worked through the decade of Erestor's life that had been kept locked behind the door of a tortured soul. Elrond would sit and listen for hours as the relationship unfolded before him. It had seemed innocuous enough at first, having Erestor serve as his valet, and even the consensual use of his friend as Authon's playroom Tumbo had not worried Elrond. It was only when Authon began to test Erestor's limits, to strain the bond of trust placed in him, that Elrond became uncomfortable.

It was conditioning beyond anything Elrond had ever witnessed. Each boundary crossed, each limit erased, Authon would praise Erestor. He would give the hungry submissive mounds of verbal and physical rewards for allowing another line to be breached. It was stunningly devious and frighteningly methodical. Elrond found himself in disgusted awe as each moment was retold, every step recounted for his benefit.

Then it crossed into a realm beyond mere conditioning. The first time Authon drew blood from Erestor, the first time he destroyed the trust when the safeword was ignored, he soothed the sting of the act by kissing and caressing Erestor, wiping away his tears, and filling his ears with three barbed words, 'I love you'. Through those words, Authon was able to manipulate Erestor completely. Whips gave way to knives, hands gave way to steel, and pleasure was sacrificed in order to extract as much pain as possible.

Erestor's perception of love and trust were twisted into something ugly. Hatred bloomed in a swamp of Authon's making, and Elrond wept to know he'd done nothing to aid the one who had trusted him beyond all others.

And then, one afternoon, two months after they had begun, the story came to its bloody end. Erestor's voice broke as he recounted the final events that freed him from Authon's abuse.

"He loved me, and I killed him," Erestor concluded, cheeks wet with tears of guilt.

"It was not love, Erestor," Elrond cried out, enraged for his long-time friend. "He *said* he loved you in order to control you, and control you he did."

"No!"

Erestor slammed his fists down on the table, his head hung, face hidden by his midnight hair. His shoulders began to shake, and Elrond reached out to soothe Erestor's upset. His hand stopped in mid-extension, though, as what he had thought were tears were voiced as insane giggling. A mad-sounding laughter that hardly resembled Erestor voice. Elrond tried to discern what it was he was witnessing when Erestor lifted his head. The grey gaze that stared at him was completely alien to Elrond, and he sat back in his chair, faced with the beast hiding within Erestor's mind.

"Authon," he breathed, swallowing convulsively.

The chuckling slowly died out as words not belonging to Erestor passed through his lips. "Oh, but I did love him, Peredhel. I loved his cock. I loved his mouth. I loved the way he screamed when I put him under the lash."

The voice sent a chill down Elrond's spine, and he finally understood Thranduil's disquiet. "You are not welcome here," he said firmly, his eyes hard.

"Oh, but Erestor misses me so much. Otherwise, why would I be here?" Erestor purred, the tone dripping with dark amusement.

"Erestor's mind is broken because of what you did," Elrond replied, eyes cataloguing all the changes he could see in Erestor's body language and expression.

Erestor laughed, the sound like something slippery in the dark. "No, I think Erestor's mind is broken because of what *he* did to *me*."

Elrond lifted his left hand, spreading the fingers out as he rested it upon the table. Vilya glinted faintly in the dying light from the window, and Elrond's voice brooked no argument when he spoke again. "I said, you are not welcome here."

Grey eyes focused on the splayed hand, and then focused on Elrond. "We will talk again. I grow stronger with each passing day." As Authon relinquished the control to Erestor's personality, Erestor cried out, his hands gripping his head. The force of the shift was enough to send Erestor flying back in his chair, landing heavily on the floor.

Elrond rushed to Erestor's side, offering him his hand. He was not prepared for the angry glare that met him when Erestor brushed aside his hand.

"You pissed him off," Erestor snapped, rising to his feet unsteadily. "In future, Elrond, remember this is *my* head, not yours, and I have to live with the consequences of your actions." Wearily, Erestor flopped onto his bed, a searing headache taking firm hold.

TBC...