Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves

Title: Gypsies, Tramps, and Thieves
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Author: Lynsey
Websites: See link under biography
Beta: None
Chapter: 7/?
Pairings: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17 overall, PG this chapter
Warnings: AU, hermaphrodite
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue, all I got are college loans, and this isn’t helping to pay them off.
Summary: Glorfindel, newly returned to Middle Earth, catches a ride to Imladris with a band of gypsies.
A/N: Ellian=hermaphrodite. Ama = the elven word for a hermaphrodite parent.

Eyes were on them. Glorfindel could feel the heat of several glares centered on his person, as well as the soft, questioning gaze of his Lord and the defeated eyes of Erestor.

"We should..." Glorfindel gestured to the side, indicating that they should speak alone.

Erestor shook his head, eyes downcast. "It is my turn to watch the children," he waved at the pack of elflings playing nearby, the little blond gleam of his son, dear Valar, his son shining clearly amongst the sea of little dark heads.

"You!" word spread fast within the gypsy camp. Erestor's father, Bellfaer, stormed up to the blond warrior seemingly out of nowhere. "How dare you show your face in this camp again. I have cursed your name, Naurferedir, since the moment you left."

"I am sorry," interrupted Elrond. His voice was quiet, but he commanded attention all the same. "I do not believe I recognize the name you have placed upon my Seneschal."

“I would do better to call him a thief and a tramp!”

Glorfindel winced.

Erestor placed his hand on his irate father’s arm. “Papa, please.”

“I believe,” said Lord Elrond, “that we have drawn enough attention to ourselves. Why don’t we all convene within my home where there will be some privacy to discuss matters.” Indeed, a large crowd had gathered to watch the drama. The children had stopped playing and where now scattered back to their parents. That left the little blond boy looking forlorn and confused.

“Come back to Ama, baby,” Erestor called. The little child perked up and ran back to his parent. He giggled as he pulled up and jumped as high as he could to attach himself to his grandfather. Bellfaer smiled, albeit reluctantly, and he pulled the little boy into his arms.

“Follow me, if you will,” invited Elrond, turning and retreating toward the large estate. Glorfindel stood with his head down, seemingly frozen in place. “Glorfindel,” Elrond called. “If you would please follow?”

“Glorfindel?” Erestor whispered, looking hurt. “You are…Glorfindel?”

“…aye,” Glorfindel said quietly.

After several moments of awkwardness, the group moved forward into the sprawling house of Imladris.

The library seemed to be miles away. The eyes of the whole world watched as the strange group of elves threaded through the gypsy market and into the splendorous house. Despite the tense atmosphere and the obvious bad feelings between members of the party, Erestor seemed to light up as he gazed upon the beauty of the architecture. The dark little gypsy let out a gasp of disbelief and delight as they entered the library.

Glorfindel almost burst into tears at the sight Erestor presented. The little gypsy let his mouth drop open as he moved past Lord Elrond and into the library. He walked slowly into the center of the huge room with the dirtied and gaudy fabric of his skirts brushing around his legs. The skylight above cast hues of golden light onto locks of ebony hair that escaped from a bright red scarf, and the soft glow brought out delicate blue highlights in the chaotic strands and flashed in the few beads threaded through a handful of braids. The gentle beams of light emphasized the smudges of dirt on the pearl pale flesh of his cheeks. He looked so young, so vulnerable.

The little child in Bellfaer’s arms squirmed, and his grandfather placed the little one on his feet. The elfling giggled and ran to his parent, his tiny bare feet padding softly on the polished floors. Erestor smiled, the kind of smile only a parent had have for their child and knelt down to intercept the elfling.

“It’s so pretty!”

Erestor kissed the child’s forehead. “Yes, it is very pretty.”

“I am glad you enjoy my library.” Lord Elrond smiled gently and gestured the group to a set of chairs. “Please, sit. Let’s discuss the strife that seems to be between your family and my Seneschal.”

“I’ll tell you what that bastard did,” Bellfaer hissed. “He took advantage of my son, knocked him up, and fled! He left my baby pregnant and unmarried. Do you have any idea what that did to him?”

Erestor’s face was downcast, and he clutched his child to him. The elfling was very quiet, sensing the bad mood and not wanting any negative attention to be cast upon him.

Bellfaer walked up to Glorfindel and shook a fist in his face. “My son was disgraced! He lost face in front of the entire clan. To be so young, unwed, and expecting a child? Shameful! Especially since the father was a no-good tramp that vanished and never came back. No one would marry him then. He was used goods!”

“Papa, please,” Erestor whispered. “Please don’t talk about me like that.”

Bellfaer turned on his son, “What? And pretend that you aren’t forced to take your clothes off for money? We had so many dreams for you, Erestor. You ruined them all when you started lollygagging around with this, this,” he sputtered, unable to come up with a suitably horrific name for Glorfindel.

“Please,” Elrond said, “let’s calm down and speak rationally with each other. Nothing will be solved by yelling and name calling.”

“I haven’t even begun name calling!”

“You will not disrespect me in my home.” Elrond did not raise his voice, but the authority was unmistakable.

Bellfaer balked a little at that, and took a deep breath. “I’m very sorry, my Lord. I did not mean to raise my voice to you. I am…very emotional and need to calm my nerves before I say something I will regret.”

Erestor picked up the little boy and walked slowly to the collection of seats nearby. Everyone else followed, seating themselves. The golden child curled up in his parent’s lap, upset and needing the reassurance of his Ama’s arms.

“Now. Please explain,” Elrond coaxed.

Glorfindel started, telling the story of his return to Middle Earth and running into a gypsy camp while lost on his way to Imladris. He talked about falling in love with the beautiful dark haired gypsy boy (at which point Bellfaer snorted in disbelief but didn’t say anything). He told Elrond about the orc attack and his decision to leave Erestor.

“I…guess I just wanted something better for him…for you,” he looked at Erestor, who had his face hidden in the gold hair of his child. “I thought that by leaving, you would be free. You could find someone better.”

“Glorfindel,” Erestor whispered. “Your name is Glorfindel. Not Naurferedir. You lied to me from the beginning; even your name was a lie.” He lifted his eyes, and Glorfindel’s heart was torn into little bits seeing the crystal tears leaking from the corners. “Did you ever really love me? Was that a lie too?” He hugged his child like a very large stuffed animal, seeking comfort.

“I still love you. More than anything. I think about you every day, every hour.”

“That doesn’t erase what you did,” Bellfaer said. “You…you ruined his life. You took away his future. I don’t believe I can ever forgive you for that.”

Glorfindel clasped his hands in front of him and bowed his head. “I don’t expect you to.” He cleared his throat. “Erestor…”

The darkling looked up and ran a hand through his son’s shining gold locks. “Yes?”

“Could you ever forgive me?”

“I…I don’t know.”

*****************************

It was dark outside, and the majority of the gypsy tents were closed down for the night. Only one large tent was still alit with lamps. Rowdy shouts and the sound of drums could be heard from inside. Glorfindel stood just beyond the flap of the tent. The smell of alcohol was strong even from here. He took a deep breath and stepped up to the elf standing guard, handing him a small handful of coins. The guard glared, recognizing him for who he was, but refraining from doing anything about it. He put the coins in a bag tied to his belt and stepped aside so Glorfindel could slip in.

The laughter was even louder in here, and Glorfindel slipped along the edge of the tent in the back away from the stage. Since their attention was on the show, no one realized he was even there. On the stage, several of the gypsy ellith and ellian danced to the beat of the drummers off to the side.

Erestor was up there.

His chest was bare, and his long, black, flowing skirts were completely transparent and had a slit all the way up to the strip of cloth holding the panels together low on his waist. Bells chimed on his ankles and wrists. The other dancers were clad similarly, and most of the females were topless. They danced and flirted with the crowd, gaining coins in the bowls at the edge of the stage.

Erestor went to his knees at the edge of the stage, leaning over to smile sensuously at a customer. The elf laughed and pointed to his cheek. Erestor kissed it, and the elf threw a handful of coins in the nearest bowl. Glorfindel choked, sickened.

He had done this. His beautiful little gypsy was forced into this to support his child. Their child.

Faunion.

The child was so beautiful. Erestor’s dark, soulful eyes and pretty, triangular face were blended with his golden locks. Glorfindel longed to hold him, cuddle him as Erestor seemed to do constantly. His sweet little lips were so quick to turn into a blinding smile, like the soft, pure whisper of clouds across a perfect, blue sky.

He watched the dancers for a long time, wanting to start a fight every time someone touched Erestor. Men from his guard, scribes, farmers…so many people crammed into the tent. He couldn’t believe that elves he had considered his friends would be drawn to such entertainment.

When a lieutenant from his guard gestured Erestor forward and ran a hand up the gypsy’s thigh to disappear into the skirts, Glorfindel couldn’t watch anymore. He turned abruptly toward the entrance and forced his way outside.

What had he done?

********************************

The morning was quiet. Glorfindel smoothed the curry and comb through his horse’s coat, the gentle rhythm relaxing him as nothing else could. Through the open top doors of the stall he could see the gypsy camp across the small paddock. Several of the band were awake already, seeing to their horses, starting the cook fires, washing laundry…all of the things Glorfindel had witnessed them do dozens of times before and never realized how much he missed until it was too late.

The tribe had a gentle, yet wild feel that couldn’t be found in Imladris. Not that the dell had not become his home, but he sometimes missed the liveliness of the gypsy camp.

His heart clenched and he stopped in his ministrations when he saw Erestor walk to the well, empty water buckets dangling effortlessly from his fingers. Glorfindel watched for as long as Erestor was in view, sighing when the darkling carried his now full buckets back to his wagon.

Just when he turned back to this horse, a quiet, “Omph!” caught his attention. Curious, Glorfindel leaned out of the half-door to scrutinize the area just outside the stall. A little golden haired elfling sat on the ground, glaring at an overturned bucket. The dark little eyes went wide realizing he had been discovered.

His son, little Faunion, was just a breath away.

Glorfindel’s heart skipped a beat, and he opened the latch for the bottom part of the door and stepped outside. “What are you doing this far away from the camp, little bird?”

“I sawed you,” declared the elfling, full of childish self-importance. “I sawed you and wanted to see you more so I came over here and thought I could stand on the bucket to see what you were doin’ but I fell off the bucket and now Ama’s gonna be mad that I’m dirty already and-” he took a deep breath, “I really like your horsie.”

Glorfindel couldn’t help but chuckle. “Would like to meet my horsie?”

“Ya!” the little boy scrambled up the dirt. He practically vibrated in place when Glorfindel reached out to take his tiny, chubby hand.

The warrior led the child into the stall, careful to warn the child to walk slow and be as quiet as possible, to which the elfling responded, “I knooooow. I have horsies toooooo.”

“I suppose you do,” Glorfindel conceded with a smile.

The large war-horse dipped down to snuffle at messy blond locks. The massive head was almost bigger than the elfling. Faunion giggled when the beast started checking for treats, inadvertently knocking the boy into the hay. Glorfindel picked the boy up, holding him so he could scratch the horse’s forehead and ears.

“Are you really my Daddy?”

The question nearly made Glorfindel drop the child. He looked at the boy, incredulous and without a response.

“Ama said you were my Daddy. Are you gonna come with us?”

“No, little bird. I will be staying here. I serve the Lord Elrond.”

“Oh,” was the sad reply. The child petted the horse a little longer before trudging on in the conversation. “Ama’s really sad. He cried aaaalll night last night. I got him some water, ‘cause that’s what he does when I cry, but he still cried. He said he missed you.”

Faunion squirmed in Glorfindel’s hold until he could look the warrior in the eye. “Will you come see my Ama? If he misses you and you go see him then he can’t miss you no mores and he’ll be happy.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy, little bird.”

“Please?” The sad, dark eyes were beseeching, and Glorfindel was entirely unable to say no.

“Take me to your wagon, and I’ll see your Ama.”

TBC…

Faunion = Son of the clouds