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Tales of Love and Valour
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
1,484
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
9
Views:
1,484
Reviews:
3
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.
Touch of Night
Title: Touch of Night
Characters: Glorfindel/Ecthelion
Prompt: 35 - He felt as if the whole dark world was turning upside down.
Word Count: 389
Rating: PG
Summary: Glorfindel has nightmares…
Lioncourt - Thank you, I admit to being quite pleased with that last one, so I'm glad you liked it too!
**************
Blood, fire, death. They wrapped themselves around him and took hold, refusing to let go, though he fought them with all he had. He clawed desperately, trying to escape, shouting out his refusal to give in to the creature that tried to ensnare him.
Yet it was hopeless and he became more and more entangled the more he fought, until at last there was nothing left to do but fall.
With a thump, Glorfindel hit the bedroom floor, his eyes flying open as the shock forced the nightmare to release him. He gasped for breath, hastily pushing away the sheets which clung to his body like a shroud. Trying to calm himself, he put his head in his hands, forcing down the bile that rose in his throat. Outside it was still night and he felt as if the whole dark world was turning upside down. He dare not close his eyes though, for fear of the visions returning.
Instead he rose, lighting all the candles he could find, filling the room with a soft light. Once that was done he poured a glass of miruvor and settled into a chair by the window, waiting for the dawn.
*************
When at last morning came, he rose and blew out the candles before washing and dressing. It felt good to bathe, as if the act of washing his body could cleanse his spirit of the nightmare. It could not, of course, but for a moment he was able to cling to the illusion.
It was with some reluctance that he left his rooms, knowing that his cries would have woken his neighbours. Sure enough, as he walked down the hall, he heard the mutterings.
“He screamed again last night,” he heard a voice say. “He must have been dreaming of his death again. It is dreadful that he should suffer so!”
Glorfindel tried his best to ignore the comments and walked on. There was no point trying to explain that it was never his death he saw in his dreams. That was an event he barely remembered. No, it wasn’t his body he saw entwined with the balrog’s flames and it wasn’t his own cries he heard echoing in the night. It wasn’t his body that he saw fall, taken into the murky depths of death.
Not his. Never his.
End
Characters: Glorfindel/Ecthelion
Prompt: 35 - He felt as if the whole dark world was turning upside down.
Word Count: 389
Rating: PG
Summary: Glorfindel has nightmares…
Lioncourt - Thank you, I admit to being quite pleased with that last one, so I'm glad you liked it too!
**************
Blood, fire, death. They wrapped themselves around him and took hold, refusing to let go, though he fought them with all he had. He clawed desperately, trying to escape, shouting out his refusal to give in to the creature that tried to ensnare him.
Yet it was hopeless and he became more and more entangled the more he fought, until at last there was nothing left to do but fall.
With a thump, Glorfindel hit the bedroom floor, his eyes flying open as the shock forced the nightmare to release him. He gasped for breath, hastily pushing away the sheets which clung to his body like a shroud. Trying to calm himself, he put his head in his hands, forcing down the bile that rose in his throat. Outside it was still night and he felt as if the whole dark world was turning upside down. He dare not close his eyes though, for fear of the visions returning.
Instead he rose, lighting all the candles he could find, filling the room with a soft light. Once that was done he poured a glass of miruvor and settled into a chair by the window, waiting for the dawn.
*************
When at last morning came, he rose and blew out the candles before washing and dressing. It felt good to bathe, as if the act of washing his body could cleanse his spirit of the nightmare. It could not, of course, but for a moment he was able to cling to the illusion.
It was with some reluctance that he left his rooms, knowing that his cries would have woken his neighbours. Sure enough, as he walked down the hall, he heard the mutterings.
“He screamed again last night,” he heard a voice say. “He must have been dreaming of his death again. It is dreadful that he should suffer so!”
Glorfindel tried his best to ignore the comments and walked on. There was no point trying to explain that it was never his death he saw in his dreams. That was an event he barely remembered. No, it wasn’t his body he saw entwined with the balrog’s flames and it wasn’t his own cries he heard echoing in the night. It wasn’t his body that he saw fall, taken into the murky depths of death.
Not his. Never his.
End