The Last Luster
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
2,935
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
2
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
6
Views:
2,935
Reviews:
7
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.
Keep Your Color
The Last Luster
By Isabel Schemes
Pairings: Glorfindel/ Erestor/ Elrond
Rating: NC-17 (next chapter)
Warnings: Graphic male/ male/ male sex, borderline NCS, suicidal bits and mentions of domestic abuse.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights of The Lord of the Rings characters, plot and all included in the novels.
Summary: Knowing what is there
Part Four: Keep Your Color
Colors blurred past Erestor in his dream, the bright shades of life ravaged his body before they left him cold. He knew he was once again with his kin in the dreamscape. As he waded from his body, now a wretched shell of carbon, he felt immense relief take hold of him. His body was dead, and his spirit thrived. Erestor knew that his dream picked off from exactly where his last one ended, and he waited to see the signs his elders would show him.
By now in the dream, Erestor had killed himself and had let his spirit into the black river that would bring him to the final resting place for Elven souls. He grouped about in the dark, struggling against the water to find his way. The river of darkness was a rampaging beast, sometimes tossing him, sometimes carrying him aways. His soul was drenched in the confusion from the waters, and he struggled to find his way. Yet the river of souls was too powerful, and it began to pull him under, drag him down to the depths where his soul would forever be lost.
Just as Erestor felt himself disappear under the waves of depression, he felt the water calm, and it slowly shrank in volume, until it was no more than a puddle at his feet. Amazed, Erestor sought for the source of his salvation, and he saw a light. It stood out against the darkness like a starry gem of gold against the night. He was saved, he knew it! All the watery confusion had been worth the feel he felt now. A warm tingling spread itself through his body, pooling mostly in his loins. He didn’t know why, but he laughed. His laughter burbled from his lips like fresh run off water from a glacier. He ran, sprinting with newfound energy towards the voices, the voices of his ancestors, and above, he ran to the voice of his love.
Aiglos was calling to him, whispering endearments and comforts that Erestor could have only dreamed to ever hear again. And now he would! He would see Aiglos, and hold him in his arms! Everything between them would be resolved, and they would laugh once more. They would crumble into each other with teary eyes and make love every night. They would never fight, for now there was no need. Aiglos’s voice grew louder as he drew closer to the door of light, his words turning dirty and lusty. Erestor laughed more and more as he came to the light, and with a last burst of joyous energy, he entered the light. He closed his eyes and waited for Aiglos to pick him up, and hug him. He sat like that, for a minute, before opening his eyes.
When his eyes opened, he saw nothing. Darkness, endless darkness consumed him. There was no more laughter, no more hope. Even the puddle of despair at his feet was gone. This was heaven. This was the glorious secret – nothing. There were no green lawns or Aiglos; there was nothing but cold dread and deep silence. A silence so deep it pounded in your ear drums.
Crying out in desolation, Erestor tried to understand what he was shown. But slowly, little by little, he felt his soul disappearing. It was as if his soul was an onion, being stripped down layer by layer until it was no more. And then, his conscious, his precious connection to all feeling or thought: his very ego, slowly died out, until it was no more than a flicker of fire that was soon blown out by the wind. There was no more Erestor – no body, no heart or soul.
And that was what the afterlife was – nothing.
When Erestor finally arose into the normal world, another day had passed, and he knew now what his dead kin were telling him. He had spent a whole day in that dark world, and he now understood what lay beyond death. There was nothing. You experienced sad emotions and happy emotions, just as in life, before you shriveled into nothing. A choked sob escaped Erestor’s throat. He didn’t want to be in that dark river ever again, he never wanted to lose his consciousness, not ever. He sobbed when he realized that Aiglos was indeed, gone, that there would be no meeting for them. He cried louder when he realized the state his husband was in. The sheets unraveled his body as he blindly fled from Elrond’s bed to the bathroom. He plunged his body into warm water as he tried to revive his feeling. He sat there, in the porcelain tub, letting out all the tears he could for his ever-lost husband, and for himself.
The trees around Elrond’s room wiggled their branches through the bathroom windows. They sat their limbs along the tub, in the tub and gently eve, wrapped their leaves around the elf’s body. They held him in his pain, they comforted him and listened in only the way a tree could. They unwound his hair and stroked his skin. They did not judge him, nor did they encourage him. The trees simply soaked in Erestor’s emotions and held him tight. He lay there until he could cry no more, and a ragged sense of clarity overtook his heart.
The ancestors wanted him to heal, he knew that now. But, however wise his ancestors were, Erestor did not trust the healing method prescribed to him. His courage drained from his veins as he thought of the love he now hated would be forced back on him. He was wary of love, tired and nervous of it. All it had brought him was heartbreak and loss – he did not want that. To Erestor, it was far better to stay safe in walls then to let another elf dominate him or even submit to him, ever again. He liked his freedom, however bitter, from love. He asked the trees for advice, and he received his reply.
“Young one,” the eldest tree whispered, “You may find that there is the greatest freedom to be found in love. Although it is daunting to let another claim your body and heart, you must know they must do the same. If both parties submit to each other and to their mutual love, then my child, that is Bliss,”
“I… I am afraid, I know it’s love I feel for them, a love as great as Aiglos, but what if they hurt me?” Erestor murmured.
“We all are afraid. Just… Make your move, no matter how daunting,” was all the eldest tree whispered in reply.
Erestor sat still for another moment before he sat up from the tub. Carefully, he pulled on a fresh sleeping robe. Then, with a great amount of will power, Erestor left Elrond’s room in pursuit of his loves.
------------
Sex in next chapter, I promise. - Isabel
By Isabel Schemes
Pairings: Glorfindel/ Erestor/ Elrond
Rating: NC-17 (next chapter)
Warnings: Graphic male/ male/ male sex, borderline NCS, suicidal bits and mentions of domestic abuse.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights of The Lord of the Rings characters, plot and all included in the novels.
Summary: Knowing what is there
Part Four: Keep Your Color
Colors blurred past Erestor in his dream, the bright shades of life ravaged his body before they left him cold. He knew he was once again with his kin in the dreamscape. As he waded from his body, now a wretched shell of carbon, he felt immense relief take hold of him. His body was dead, and his spirit thrived. Erestor knew that his dream picked off from exactly where his last one ended, and he waited to see the signs his elders would show him.
By now in the dream, Erestor had killed himself and had let his spirit into the black river that would bring him to the final resting place for Elven souls. He grouped about in the dark, struggling against the water to find his way. The river of darkness was a rampaging beast, sometimes tossing him, sometimes carrying him aways. His soul was drenched in the confusion from the waters, and he struggled to find his way. Yet the river of souls was too powerful, and it began to pull him under, drag him down to the depths where his soul would forever be lost.
Just as Erestor felt himself disappear under the waves of depression, he felt the water calm, and it slowly shrank in volume, until it was no more than a puddle at his feet. Amazed, Erestor sought for the source of his salvation, and he saw a light. It stood out against the darkness like a starry gem of gold against the night. He was saved, he knew it! All the watery confusion had been worth the feel he felt now. A warm tingling spread itself through his body, pooling mostly in his loins. He didn’t know why, but he laughed. His laughter burbled from his lips like fresh run off water from a glacier. He ran, sprinting with newfound energy towards the voices, the voices of his ancestors, and above, he ran to the voice of his love.
Aiglos was calling to him, whispering endearments and comforts that Erestor could have only dreamed to ever hear again. And now he would! He would see Aiglos, and hold him in his arms! Everything between them would be resolved, and they would laugh once more. They would crumble into each other with teary eyes and make love every night. They would never fight, for now there was no need. Aiglos’s voice grew louder as he drew closer to the door of light, his words turning dirty and lusty. Erestor laughed more and more as he came to the light, and with a last burst of joyous energy, he entered the light. He closed his eyes and waited for Aiglos to pick him up, and hug him. He sat like that, for a minute, before opening his eyes.
When his eyes opened, he saw nothing. Darkness, endless darkness consumed him. There was no more laughter, no more hope. Even the puddle of despair at his feet was gone. This was heaven. This was the glorious secret – nothing. There were no green lawns or Aiglos; there was nothing but cold dread and deep silence. A silence so deep it pounded in your ear drums.
Crying out in desolation, Erestor tried to understand what he was shown. But slowly, little by little, he felt his soul disappearing. It was as if his soul was an onion, being stripped down layer by layer until it was no more. And then, his conscious, his precious connection to all feeling or thought: his very ego, slowly died out, until it was no more than a flicker of fire that was soon blown out by the wind. There was no more Erestor – no body, no heart or soul.
And that was what the afterlife was – nothing.
When Erestor finally arose into the normal world, another day had passed, and he knew now what his dead kin were telling him. He had spent a whole day in that dark world, and he now understood what lay beyond death. There was nothing. You experienced sad emotions and happy emotions, just as in life, before you shriveled into nothing. A choked sob escaped Erestor’s throat. He didn’t want to be in that dark river ever again, he never wanted to lose his consciousness, not ever. He sobbed when he realized that Aiglos was indeed, gone, that there would be no meeting for them. He cried louder when he realized the state his husband was in. The sheets unraveled his body as he blindly fled from Elrond’s bed to the bathroom. He plunged his body into warm water as he tried to revive his feeling. He sat there, in the porcelain tub, letting out all the tears he could for his ever-lost husband, and for himself.
The trees around Elrond’s room wiggled their branches through the bathroom windows. They sat their limbs along the tub, in the tub and gently eve, wrapped their leaves around the elf’s body. They held him in his pain, they comforted him and listened in only the way a tree could. They unwound his hair and stroked his skin. They did not judge him, nor did they encourage him. The trees simply soaked in Erestor’s emotions and held him tight. He lay there until he could cry no more, and a ragged sense of clarity overtook his heart.
The ancestors wanted him to heal, he knew that now. But, however wise his ancestors were, Erestor did not trust the healing method prescribed to him. His courage drained from his veins as he thought of the love he now hated would be forced back on him. He was wary of love, tired and nervous of it. All it had brought him was heartbreak and loss – he did not want that. To Erestor, it was far better to stay safe in walls then to let another elf dominate him or even submit to him, ever again. He liked his freedom, however bitter, from love. He asked the trees for advice, and he received his reply.
“Young one,” the eldest tree whispered, “You may find that there is the greatest freedom to be found in love. Although it is daunting to let another claim your body and heart, you must know they must do the same. If both parties submit to each other and to their mutual love, then my child, that is Bliss,”
“I… I am afraid, I know it’s love I feel for them, a love as great as Aiglos, but what if they hurt me?” Erestor murmured.
“We all are afraid. Just… Make your move, no matter how daunting,” was all the eldest tree whispered in reply.
Erestor sat still for another moment before he sat up from the tub. Carefully, he pulled on a fresh sleeping robe. Then, with a great amount of will power, Erestor left Elrond’s room in pursuit of his loves.
------------
Sex in next chapter, I promise. - Isabel