Silent Flight -Complete
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
3,944
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
12
Views:
3,944
Reviews:
10
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
1
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 3: Meeting the brothers
Title: Silent Flight: The Wild Swans
Author: destinial
Part: 3/?
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC17/R
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns these elves, the history, Middle-earth, my sons and my soul. No profit was made.
Warning: Besides slash, I don’t think so. Maybe angst but I am seldom capable of it.
Beta: Aglarien- who tightened this ship. Thank you! It’d have sunken otherwise.
Summary: An elvish take of The Wild Swans, a fairy tale that is reminiscent of Celtic lore.
Author’s note: Bad poetry again, but I had to explain why there was bad poetry before this, and the only way to explain it is with more bad poetry. Fine, I lied. My willpower just does not resist rhymes.
Title: Silent Flight: The Wild Swans
Author: destinial
Part: 3/?
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC17/R
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns these elves, the history, Middle-earth, my sons and my soul. No profit was made.
Warning: Besides slash, I don’t think so. Maybe angst but I am seldom capable of it.
Beta: Aglarien- who tightened this ship. Thank you! It’d have sunk otherwise.
Summary: An elvish take of The Wild Swans, a fairy tale that is reminiscent of Celtic lore.
Author’s note: Bad poetry again, but I had to explain why there was bad poetry before this, and the only way to explain it is with more bad poetry. Fine, I lied. My willpower just does not resist rhymes.
It was already nightfall when Erestor woke from his reverie. He had fallen asleep from the physical and emotional exhaustion while waiting for news and was roused by something sharp poking at his ear.
His eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, helped by the light of Ithil who was at her height that night. A soft hoot at his ear startled him and Erestor sat up to face a tawny owl who was cocking her head at him from a tree branch. Allowing his mind to reach out once more, he asked, “Night’s kin, do you bring news?”
Birds thought only in song and tune, in rhyme and rhythm. The owl hooted gently, deciphering Erestor’s speech slowly in her mind and spoke,
A song we heard, a song we heed,
A song of a child in crying need.
Nine of feathered kith we sought
against weather and against draught
over water among reeds
sought for naught, sought for nought
Erestor’s heart sank and grief weakened him, but the owl continued,
Nine of the feathered kith we sought
But nine of the elven kin we caught.
Nine of Eru’s greatest pride,
By the lake thence now reside
Over water among rocks
sought for naught, sought for nought.
Standing up immediately in momentary joy, Erestor exclaimed, “My brothers!” Then he asked in his thoughts again, “Will you bring me there, night’s kin?” It took the owl another moment before she flew off her branch, brushing Erestor’s head with her wings to beckon the elf to follow her.
Owls flew silently, gliding gracefully between branches and among trees, an equal match for elven feet. Erestor ran amidst the undergrowth with remarkable speed, guided by the glint of light reflecting off white feathers. He must find his brothers before dawn. That thought alone occupied his mind.
The forest was becoming sparser and Erestor’s steps became lighter as he knew they had to be approaching the lake. Picking up speed, he dashed with deer-like poise in the direction of the light. Already his keen elven ears could hear voices. His brothers were near!
----
“If we had not landed when we did, we would have plummeted to the ground, ‘Thel,” Galdor commented, still somewhat shaken by the near miss. The brothers had been flying, hoping to find their youngest brother to warn him, but the wings of swans were not suited for flight within the dense forest. Unaware of the nature of the spell, they had landed in the lake to quench their thirst but found themselves soaked to their elven skin the moment Arien’s rays disappeared. “It seems we fly only by day.”
Egalmoth wrung his clothes dry and said coldly, “At least this means we can kill that witch in her sleep.” Famed among his brothers for his fiery temper, Penlod loosed a string of curses and a litany of the Valar’s extremities.
“Mayhaps killing her will free us from this dastardly curse.” Duilin wiped his sword against the grass, trying desperately to dry it.
Lindir shook his head. “Charms last as long as the enchanted, not the enchanter. She will sooner have us killed. Besides we cannot even get near the cottage.”
His twin brother, Daeron, nodded in agreement, adding, “We cannot kill if we should wish to or even if we could. She is still of elven kind.”
The thought caused the brothers to despair and a few clenched their fists in quiet fury. Their freedom had been stolen: was revenge denied to them as well?
Ecthelion, who had been silent all this while, spoke quietly, “Erestor is not among us.” His comment reminded the brothers and all fell silent, contemplating and worrying incessantly over the fate of their youngest brother. They had tried terribly hard to fly close to the cottage so as to warn their youngest, but an invisible force had repelled their efforts. The curse was banishment- they could not return. But their youngest brother could and would have.
Hathel sounded every brother’s worst fear. “He is not trained with the blade. There is no need even for a curse like one she laid on us. She could have him killed. Father could have him killed.”
Rog’s eyes lit with an ominous fire and his deep voic! e laced with venom said, “Should he be killed, kinslaying or nay, my blade will twist in the witch’s heart.” His declaration was greeted by equally bitter affirmation.
“He lives still. The forest would be in anguish if he were dead.” Ecthelion glared at every brother. “Revenge can come in time - we must seek our brother.”
Erestor’s eyes teared. He stood at the edge of the clearing, composing himself after the wave of sharp relief of seeing his brothers alive had overwhelmed him. He had heard every single word that his brothers said and it shook him to know that even when they were chained by the evil curse, he was still their greatest concern. He called out. “Seek not. I have found you.”
Every brother’s head turned abruptly, and dropping everything in their hands, stood up in surprise and intense happiness when they saw their youngest walking towards them. Galdor ran up to swing the slight elf into his arms, hugging him tightly to assure himself that his you! ngest brother was alive. Each brother did so in turn, Duilin in tearful joy and Rog with silent reserve.
Only Ecthelion stood aside, waiting for all to quiet down. When at long last the brothers found some measure of calm, he walked up to this youngest brother and cupped the face that was awash with tears, and looking deeply into the hazel eyes asked, “Know you of our fate then?”
Erestor nodded and was about to speak, when Ecthelion asked again, more urgently, “Tell me you have been spared.” Erestor nodded yet again, but he could not speak still, for Ecthelion hugged him close, kissed his temple and whispered his prayer, “Thanks be to Elbereth, thanks be.”
Erestor closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall again. Remembering his purpose, he returned the hug and gently nudged his brother away to look him in the eye. “Gwador? I can break the curse.”
Gasps of astonishment were heard, but still, Erestor looked straight at his eldest, the pillar among the brothers. Ecthelion looked at his brother’s earnest face and nodded. “Come then, let us eat some. Then tell us slowly how this curse is to be broken.” Raising his hand to stop Erestor’s protests, he marshalled his siblings. “We still have to eat, before we return to our cursed forms. You can tell us once we are gathered anew with ready minds. Galdor, start a fire. Duilin, Egalmoth, you have the arrows. See if you can get us some game. Hathel, Daeron, grab a light, we must fish.”
Putting his arm around Erestor, he guided him along. “Come, fileg. We have till dawn - there is time enough.”
Once the fire was started and the brothers returned, Erestor told the story he had heard from Old Man Willow, from the poisonous tea to the curse’s remedy. The brothers were angered when they learnt of the fragrant poison that had stolen their father and were greatly disturbed by the solution to their plight. When Erestor finished his story and looked around the circle of brothers, each and every one had their heads bowed in troubled thought.
Ecthelion broke the uneasy silence. “I will not allow it.” His eyes bored into Erestor’s. Renewed silence met his forceful command - the brothers were torn. They wanted the curse broken as deeply and as desperately as they wanted to keep their youngest brother from harm. They were all well aware of the pain caused by the nettle - it was a shrub they avoided at all costs when they hunted. They could not find it in their hearts to ask their youngest to suffer so for their sake.
But the youngest did not seek their permission. His mind was made. “It is not your will, gwador. I will do it.”
Ecthelion bit back. “The pain will be too much to bear.”
Erestor replied as quickly, “I will bear it.” Softening his tone, he assured his brother. “I will bear it, gwador.” Ecthelion looked away from his brother, tears already welling in his eyes. Burying his face in his hands, he reluctantly nodded.
That night, the brothers wept. They wept for the loss of their father, they wept for their bitter fate and above all, they wept for the price freedom demanded.
----
Erestor woke up to find soft feathers covering him. Three of his brothers had thought to spread their wings over him, shading him from the glare of the morning sun, while the rest flew out to seek other shelter. Erestor sat up and reached his mind out. If he could talk to birds, surely he would be able to talk to his brothers in this manner! But deafening silence greeted him - his brothers were robbed of voices.
Disconsolate, he gave a small watery smile and reached to pat the nearest swan on the head, wondering which brother it was. The swan waddled away from him to pick up a pebble with his black webbed feet and tossed it awkwardly at him with his beak. Erestor laughed. That had to be Duilin.
The other swan next to him patted his head in a rather comical fashion with his wing. Erestor grinned in recognition. Only Egalmoth ruffled his hair all the time. He did not have to guess who the third was; Ecthelion would have never left him alone in his sleep. For the first time since he was separated from his brothers, he felt cheered. Even in their enchanted forms, he would recognise his brothers.
After washing his face, Erestor sat by the bank quietly weaving two baskets from the reeds while watching his brothers swim. The swan that was Ecthelion sat close to him and Erestor would have laughed had the circumstances been lighter; it seemed that he was destined to be coddled by his eldest, whichever form he took.
His hands were quick and when the baskets were done, he beckoned to his brothers and said, “I shall seek for nettle now. Let this be the last I say to you till we meet again as brothers in the light of day. Love you have borne me well for centuries; love I shall return. Be strong of heart, brothers mine.” Hugging the swans’ necks in a clumsy manner he whispered, “I love you.”
He stood up and was about to walk into the forest, when the biggest swan tugged at his leggings with his beak. Erestor looked down at his brother, who tugged at his leggings a few more times and pointed his beak to the ground. He repeated the same motion again. Erestor smiled as he understood, “You wish me to return?” and his smile reached his eyes when the swan nodded vigorously. “I shall come by again tonight.”
Swinging the baskets onto his shoulders, he ventured into the forest for nettle leaves.
TBC...
fileg: little bird
Author: destinial
Part: 3/?
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC17/R
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns these elves, the history, Middle-earth, my sons and my soul. No profit was made.
Warning: Besides slash, I don’t think so. Maybe angst but I am seldom capable of it.
Beta: Aglarien- who tightened this ship. Thank you! It’d have sunken otherwise.
Summary: An elvish take of The Wild Swans, a fairy tale that is reminiscent of Celtic lore.
Author’s note: Bad poetry again, but I had to explain why there was bad poetry before this, and the only way to explain it is with more bad poetry. Fine, I lied. My willpower just does not resist rhymes.
Author: destinial
Part: 3/?
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC17/R
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns these elves, the history, Middle-earth, my sons and my soul. No profit was made.
Warning: Besides slash, I don’t think so. Maybe angst but I am seldom capable of it.
Beta: Aglarien- who tightened this ship. Thank you! It’d have sunk otherwise.
Summary: An elvish take of The Wild Swans, a fairy tale that is reminiscent of Celtic lore.
Author’s note: Bad poetry again, but I had to explain why there was bad poetry before this, and the only way to explain it is with more bad poetry. Fine, I lied. My willpower just does not resist rhymes.
It was already nightfall when Erestor woke from his reverie. He had fallen asleep from the physical and emotional exhaustion while waiting for news and was roused by something sharp poking at his ear.
His eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, helped by the light of Ithil who was at her height that night. A soft hoot at his ear startled him and Erestor sat up to face a tawny owl who was cocking her head at him from a tree branch. Allowing his mind to reach out once more, he asked, “Night’s kin, do you bring news?”
Birds thought only in song and tune, in rhyme and rhythm. The owl hooted gently, deciphering Erestor’s speech slowly in her mind and spoke,
A song we heard, a song we heed,
A song of a child in crying need.
Nine of feathered kith we sought
against weather and against draught
over water among reeds
sought for naught, sought for nought
Erestor’s heart sank and grief weakened him, but the owl continued,
Nine of the feathered kith we sought
But nine of the elven kin we caught.
Nine of Eru’s greatest pride,
By the lake thence now reside
Over water among rocks
sought for naught, sought for nought.
Standing up immediately in momentary joy, Erestor exclaimed, “My brothers!” Then he asked in his thoughts again, “Will you bring me there, night’s kin?” It took the owl another moment before she flew off her branch, brushing Erestor’s head with her wings to beckon the elf to follow her.
Owls flew silently, gliding gracefully between branches and among trees, an equal match for elven feet. Erestor ran amidst the undergrowth with remarkable speed, guided by the glint of light reflecting off white feathers. He must find his brothers before dawn. That thought alone occupied his mind.
The forest was becoming sparser and Erestor’s steps became lighter as he knew they had to be approaching the lake. Picking up speed, he dashed with deer-like poise in the direction of the light. Already his keen elven ears could hear voices. His brothers were near!
----
“If we had not landed when we did, we would have plummeted to the ground, ‘Thel,” Galdor commented, still somewhat shaken by the near miss. The brothers had been flying, hoping to find their youngest brother to warn him, but the wings of swans were not suited for flight within the dense forest. Unaware of the nature of the spell, they had landed in the lake to quench their thirst but found themselves soaked to their elven skin the moment Arien’s rays disappeared. “It seems we fly only by day.”
Egalmoth wrung his clothes dry and said coldly, “At least this means we can kill that witch in her sleep.” Famed among his brothers for his fiery temper, Penlod loosed a string of curses and a litany of the Valar’s extremities.
“Mayhaps killing her will free us from this dastardly curse.” Duilin wiped his sword against the grass, trying desperately to dry it.
Lindir shook his head. “Charms last as long as the enchanted, not the enchanter. She will sooner have us killed. Besides we cannot even get near the cottage.”
His twin brother, Daeron, nodded in agreement, adding, “We cannot kill if we should wish to or even if we could. She is still of elven kind.”
The thought caused the brothers to despair and a few clenched their fists in quiet fury. Their freedom had been stolen: was revenge denied to them as well?
Ecthelion, who had been silent all this while, spoke quietly, “Erestor is not among us.” His comment reminded the brothers and all fell silent, contemplating and worrying incessantly over the fate of their youngest brother. They had tried terribly hard to fly close to the cottage so as to warn their youngest, but an invisible force had repelled their efforts. The curse was banishment- they could not return. But their youngest brother could and would have.
Hathel sounded every brother’s worst fear. “He is not trained with the blade. There is no need even for a curse like one she laid on us. She could have him killed. Father could have him killed.”
Rog’s eyes lit with an ominous fire and his deep voic! e laced with venom said, “Should he be killed, kinslaying or nay, my blade will twist in the witch’s heart.” His declaration was greeted by equally bitter affirmation.
“He lives still. The forest would be in anguish if he were dead.” Ecthelion glared at every brother. “Revenge can come in time - we must seek our brother.”
Erestor’s eyes teared. He stood at the edge of the clearing, composing himself after the wave of sharp relief of seeing his brothers alive had overwhelmed him. He had heard every single word that his brothers said and it shook him to know that even when they were chained by the evil curse, he was still their greatest concern. He called out. “Seek not. I have found you.”
Every brother’s head turned abruptly, and dropping everything in their hands, stood up in surprise and intense happiness when they saw their youngest walking towards them. Galdor ran up to swing the slight elf into his arms, hugging him tightly to assure himself that his you! ngest brother was alive. Each brother did so in turn, Duilin in tearful joy and Rog with silent reserve.
Only Ecthelion stood aside, waiting for all to quiet down. When at long last the brothers found some measure of calm, he walked up to this youngest brother and cupped the face that was awash with tears, and looking deeply into the hazel eyes asked, “Know you of our fate then?”
Erestor nodded and was about to speak, when Ecthelion asked again, more urgently, “Tell me you have been spared.” Erestor nodded yet again, but he could not speak still, for Ecthelion hugged him close, kissed his temple and whispered his prayer, “Thanks be to Elbereth, thanks be.”
Erestor closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall again. Remembering his purpose, he returned the hug and gently nudged his brother away to look him in the eye. “Gwador? I can break the curse.”
Gasps of astonishment were heard, but still, Erestor looked straight at his eldest, the pillar among the brothers. Ecthelion looked at his brother’s earnest face and nodded. “Come then, let us eat some. Then tell us slowly how this curse is to be broken.” Raising his hand to stop Erestor’s protests, he marshalled his siblings. “We still have to eat, before we return to our cursed forms. You can tell us once we are gathered anew with ready minds. Galdor, start a fire. Duilin, Egalmoth, you have the arrows. See if you can get us some game. Hathel, Daeron, grab a light, we must fish.”
Putting his arm around Erestor, he guided him along. “Come, fileg. We have till dawn - there is time enough.”
Once the fire was started and the brothers returned, Erestor told the story he had heard from Old Man Willow, from the poisonous tea to the curse’s remedy. The brothers were angered when they learnt of the fragrant poison that had stolen their father and were greatly disturbed by the solution to their plight. When Erestor finished his story and looked around the circle of brothers, each and every one had their heads bowed in troubled thought.
Ecthelion broke the uneasy silence. “I will not allow it.” His eyes bored into Erestor’s. Renewed silence met his forceful command - the brothers were torn. They wanted the curse broken as deeply and as desperately as they wanted to keep their youngest brother from harm. They were all well aware of the pain caused by the nettle - it was a shrub they avoided at all costs when they hunted. They could not find it in their hearts to ask their youngest to suffer so for their sake.
But the youngest did not seek their permission. His mind was made. “It is not your will, gwador. I will do it.”
Ecthelion bit back. “The pain will be too much to bear.”
Erestor replied as quickly, “I will bear it.” Softening his tone, he assured his brother. “I will bear it, gwador.” Ecthelion looked away from his brother, tears already welling in his eyes. Burying his face in his hands, he reluctantly nodded.
That night, the brothers wept. They wept for the loss of their father, they wept for their bitter fate and above all, they wept for the price freedom demanded.
----
Erestor woke up to find soft feathers covering him. Three of his brothers had thought to spread their wings over him, shading him from the glare of the morning sun, while the rest flew out to seek other shelter. Erestor sat up and reached his mind out. If he could talk to birds, surely he would be able to talk to his brothers in this manner! But deafening silence greeted him - his brothers were robbed of voices.
Disconsolate, he gave a small watery smile and reached to pat the nearest swan on the head, wondering which brother it was. The swan waddled away from him to pick up a pebble with his black webbed feet and tossed it awkwardly at him with his beak. Erestor laughed. That had to be Duilin.
The other swan next to him patted his head in a rather comical fashion with his wing. Erestor grinned in recognition. Only Egalmoth ruffled his hair all the time. He did not have to guess who the third was; Ecthelion would have never left him alone in his sleep. For the first time since he was separated from his brothers, he felt cheered. Even in their enchanted forms, he would recognise his brothers.
After washing his face, Erestor sat by the bank quietly weaving two baskets from the reeds while watching his brothers swim. The swan that was Ecthelion sat close to him and Erestor would have laughed had the circumstances been lighter; it seemed that he was destined to be coddled by his eldest, whichever form he took.
His hands were quick and when the baskets were done, he beckoned to his brothers and said, “I shall seek for nettle now. Let this be the last I say to you till we meet again as brothers in the light of day. Love you have borne me well for centuries; love I shall return. Be strong of heart, brothers mine.” Hugging the swans’ necks in a clumsy manner he whispered, “I love you.”
He stood up and was about to walk into the forest, when the biggest swan tugged at his leggings with his beak. Erestor looked down at his brother, who tugged at his leggings a few more times and pointed his beak to the ground. He repeated the same motion again. Erestor smiled as he understood, “You wish me to return?” and his smile reached his eyes when the swan nodded vigorously. “I shall come by again tonight.”
Swinging the baskets onto his shoulders, he ventured into the forest for nettle leaves.
TBC...
fileg: little bird