Shadows Of The Past
folder
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
9,901
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
6
Currently Reading:
1
Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
9,901
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
6
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 5
Title: Shadows of The Past (5/?)
Author: Janalynn27
Type: FPS
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, Rape, Non-con, AU
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. No disrespect is intended and no profit is being made.
Beta: Patricia Pleasant aka slayer9649, Thanks a bunch! Any other mistakes are of my making.
Summary: Glorfindel uses Erestor as a shield to say no to a suitor and Erestor is tormented by the past.
Timeline: Early TA
Feedback: It is greatly appreciated
Author's note: Okay, I know Greenwood the Great wasn't called Mirkwood until about 1050 TA but in my story it is already called Mirkwood. The twins are around 22 yrs. Old which is about 8 human yrs. Old.
Chapter 5
Three days… it had been three days since Glorfindel had arrived in Mirkwood and still no resolution of the treaty. Glorfindel sighed as he sat before the fire in Thranduil’s private study. He had been reluctant to accept the offer of a friendly game of chess but knew that Thranduil would take offense to his refusal, so here Glorfindel sat, waiting for the King to finish speaking to one of his advisors. The first night, Glorfindel had been able to use exhaustion as a reason for retiring to his chamber early. The second evening, a patrol had returned just after they had finished dinner, which required Thranduil’s immediate attention. Tonight, he was not so lucky, so here he sat; weary from pretending to be ignorant of the King’s advances, which had been subtle so far. Looks, a brushing as they passed one another, compliments and flattery.
“Ai, finally some peace! I swear you would think that they could not even take care of the smallest detail without me,” Thranduil huffed as he poured two glasses of wine, then handed one to Glorfindel before sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the chess board.
Glorfindel took a sip of the wine before saying, “You rule your realm well, and you make a fine King, Thranduil.”
Thranduil smiled at the compliment and sat his glass down after taking a drink, “Hannon le (Thank you). You make a fine warrior and a negotiator,” Thranduil said with a small smile.
Glorfindel could not help the smile that came at that; they both knew that he had been restless sitting all day in that council chamber for the second day in a row. Taking another sip of his wine, he waited for Thranduil to make his first move. After calculating the best counter move, Glorfindel made his move.
Thranduil watched Glorfindel as he looked upon the board, deciding the best strategy. ‘How glorious he looks, sitting in the firelight,’ Thranduil thought.
An hour later, Glorfindel decided that he could not take anymore. For the eighth time Thranduil’s foot rubbed up against his and he finally stood up in pretense of refilling his glass. While at the sideboard that held the wine, Glorfindel asked over his shoulder, “Would you care for more?”
“No, I am not thirsty,” was Thranduil’s reply.
Glorfindel took a big swig of his wine before walking a few feet to a tapestry and pretended to be engrossed in expecting it while thinking to himself, ‘Why all the coy gestures? Why does Thranduil just not come out and say he wants to bed me?’ These subtle flirtations were confusing and frustrated him all the more.
Thranduil narrowed his eyes and looked at Glorfindel. If he did not know better, he would think the Slayer was not interested in ellyn (m. elves). Thranduil did not know why, but he did not want to throw himself at the Elda, he had thought that the hints that he had given him thus far would have Glorfindel making a move by now. Glorfindel’s reputation before his death was legendary when it came to his passion for life and the pleasures of the body. Surely upon returning to Arda, that would not have changed. Deciding he had had enough at playing coy he stood and quietly came up behind the golden Slayer.
Glorfindel was so lost in his musings that he did not notice Thranduil’s approach until it was too late.
Grabbing Glorfindel about the hips, Thranduil pulled him back against him and breathed in his ear, “Let us play a different game now, I grow bored of chess.”
Glorfindel shuddered at the feel of Thranduil’s arousal nestled against his buttocks, which the King took as a sign of desire, not the reality, which was Glorfindel’s distaste. Finally finding his voice, Glorfindel said, “I am flattered, your Majesty, but I must decline on that sort of game.”
Frowning, Thranduil turned the Slayer around and pushed him up against the tapestry, affectively blocking his escape by leaning a hand on either side of Glorfindel’s head, “Surely you jest?”
“No, your Majesty. I…” Glorfindel started to say, only to have the King cut him off.
Thranduil swooped in and captured Glorfindel’s lips in a brutal kiss, demanding that the Elda give in. Pulling back, he searched Glorfindel’s eyes for the same desire that flamed through his body only to find none, “What, have you given your heart to another?” Thranduil asked with disbelief.
Glorfindel had been racking his brain for some excuse that would not bruise the King’s ego when his question gave him the answer to his dilemma, “Yes, I have. I apologize if I gave you any signals that I may be interested in anything other than friendship.”
Thranduil leaned back a little further and searched the Slayer’s eyes, then asked, “And who is the lucky elf that has finally caught your heart? For I had not heard that you had a lover.”
Glorfindel was not prepared for that question and before he realized what he was saying he said, “Erestor.”
If the Elda had just slapped him, Thranduil would not have been more shocked. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “But everyone knows that Lord Erestor does not like to be touched.”
Glorfindel was even more shocked at what he said than Thranduil was, but he hid it well. As Thranduil lowered his arms, Glorfindel said, “Yes, it has been difficult. We just recently have confessed of our love for one another and are taking things really slow.”
Thranduil was not convinced, but would not push any more this night. He would think on it a bit. Trying to sound apologetic, he said, “I must ask for your forgiveness, My Lord, for my actions.”
Glorfindel was confused by the King’s reaction to all this, but said, “There is nothing to forgive, you did not know. I would ask for your permission to retire now. I find with the drink and all the hours in the council chamber have made me weary.”
“But of course. I will bid you good night then and see you in the morning,” Thranduil said and watched Glorfindel walk out of the study. Sitting back down in front of the fire, Thranduil thought of what the Elda said, “Huh, Erestor. I do not believe it.”
Suddenly, a smile lit Thranduil’s face and he nearly laughed out loud. The important parts of the treaty were already agreed upon, it was just the little things and those Thranduil had been deliberately squabbling over so as to keep the Elda in Mirkwood, but by tomorrow afternoon the treaty would be signed. He would celebrate with Glorfindel by providing a scrumptious meal and, just as the Slayer was about to turn in, Thranduil would announce that he would be returning to Imladris with him. Thranduil had actually entertained thoughts of possibly trading warriors for training purposes, for Imladhel were very proficient with the sword and he knew that Elrond’s warriors could benefit with his warriors’ skills with the bow. Yes, that is what he would do. He would return with Glorfindel and see his reaction to that news. Maybe someone truly has captured the Elda’s heart, but for all of it, Thranduil could not believe that it could possibility be the dark-haired Advisor. All would not be lost if he could not have Glorfindel, for there was a tasty warrior that Thranduil had only been able to sample while he was last visiting Imladris. With that thought, Thranduil went in search of a warrior to grace his bed this night, preferably a golden-haired one, for he was in desperate need to assuage this fire coursing through his veins.
Glorfindel ran straight into his bathing chamber and splashed water on his face, trying to clear his muddled thoughts. Looking at his reflection, he cursed at what he had just told the King of Mirkwood. Glorfindel shook his head and wiped his face, then proceeded to disrobe, throwing his garment, without care, onto the floor. Hopping on one foot, then the other he tossed his boots aside and climbed under the covers after pulling off his leggings. Glorfindel lay on his back and threw his arm over his eyes, thinking of Erestor and how angry he would be if this ever got back to him. Why, of all the elves, did Erestor’s name tumble from his lips? He could have easily chosen any number of his fellow warriors to use as his make-believe lover. Using Erestor only made matters worse and he was afraid that if Erestor found out, he would not give him a chance to explain and would end their friendship. Glorfindel thought of Erestor, his present best friend, and then he thought of Ecthelion, his best friend from his past life. Ecthelion and Erestor were total opposites in every way. Where Ecthelion was affectionate and warm, Erestor was distant and cold.
Glorfindel smiled as he remembered his former best friend with great fondness. Thel and he had been nigh inseparable, always hanging on one another and many thought that they were secret lovers, though they never were. There was one time, when both of them had been well in their cups that they had kissed and groped each other until they came to their senses. In the morning they had sighed in relief that they had stopped themselves from making a huge mistake. Though they loved one another immensely, they were more like brothers than lovers and they knew that they were not the other’s soul mate.
Now Glorfindel’s smile faltered as his thoughts turned to the dark-haired Advisor. It caused him great pain to see the torment that Erestor went through each day and he longed to make Erestor smile, a true smile, that lit up his eyes. Just the thought of seeing Erestor happy lifted Glorfindel’s soul and he gasped, ‘Surely it could not be.’ He thought of the first time he saw Erestor upon his return to Arda. He had just traveled through the gates of Imladris and looked about at the sea of elves that lined the road that made its way to the courtyard, just outside of The Last Homely House. Immediately, Glorfindel knew who was Elrond, for he looked so much like his father and when his eye lit upon a dark-haired ellon (m. elf) next to the Lord of Imladris, his heart skipped a beat. Now all of the years came flooding back to Glorfindel since his return. Now he knew why he had lost the desire of other’s physical touch, the restlessness that had taken a hold of him. But why him, why Erestor? When finally Glorfindel had found what he had longed for all of his life, both his lives, his soul mate, he was unable to claim it. He could never tell Erestor, he could never confess that he loved him, for he did. He loved him in a way that he never thought he could love another; he would do anything for Erestor, even denying that love for his sake. Glorfindel saw how much it hurt Erestor to have Lindir care for him so, and he could not, would not, be the cause of any more pain, for Erestor already had too much.
Rolling to his side, Glorfindel hugged a pillow to him and a single tear slipped down to wet his cheek as loneliness took hold of him. The ache in his heart and soul, that had been slowly taking over him ever since his return to Arda, expanded tenfold. He would just continue to be Erestor’s friend and hope that one day he would confide in him and he would be there to catch him whenever he fell. With those thoughts, he fell into a fitful reverie, dreaming of a dark-haired shadow with tormented eyes that held the other part of his soul.
TBC
Author: Janalynn27
Type: FPS
Pairing: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Slash, Rape, Non-con, AU
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. No disrespect is intended and no profit is being made.
Beta: Patricia Pleasant aka slayer9649, Thanks a bunch! Any other mistakes are of my making.
Summary: Glorfindel uses Erestor as a shield to say no to a suitor and Erestor is tormented by the past.
Timeline: Early TA
Feedback: It is greatly appreciated
Author's note: Okay, I know Greenwood the Great wasn't called Mirkwood until about 1050 TA but in my story it is already called Mirkwood. The twins are around 22 yrs. Old which is about 8 human yrs. Old.
Chapter 5
Three days… it had been three days since Glorfindel had arrived in Mirkwood and still no resolution of the treaty. Glorfindel sighed as he sat before the fire in Thranduil’s private study. He had been reluctant to accept the offer of a friendly game of chess but knew that Thranduil would take offense to his refusal, so here Glorfindel sat, waiting for the King to finish speaking to one of his advisors. The first night, Glorfindel had been able to use exhaustion as a reason for retiring to his chamber early. The second evening, a patrol had returned just after they had finished dinner, which required Thranduil’s immediate attention. Tonight, he was not so lucky, so here he sat; weary from pretending to be ignorant of the King’s advances, which had been subtle so far. Looks, a brushing as they passed one another, compliments and flattery.
“Ai, finally some peace! I swear you would think that they could not even take care of the smallest detail without me,” Thranduil huffed as he poured two glasses of wine, then handed one to Glorfindel before sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the chess board.
Glorfindel took a sip of the wine before saying, “You rule your realm well, and you make a fine King, Thranduil.”
Thranduil smiled at the compliment and sat his glass down after taking a drink, “Hannon le (Thank you). You make a fine warrior and a negotiator,” Thranduil said with a small smile.
Glorfindel could not help the smile that came at that; they both knew that he had been restless sitting all day in that council chamber for the second day in a row. Taking another sip of his wine, he waited for Thranduil to make his first move. After calculating the best counter move, Glorfindel made his move.
Thranduil watched Glorfindel as he looked upon the board, deciding the best strategy. ‘How glorious he looks, sitting in the firelight,’ Thranduil thought.
An hour later, Glorfindel decided that he could not take anymore. For the eighth time Thranduil’s foot rubbed up against his and he finally stood up in pretense of refilling his glass. While at the sideboard that held the wine, Glorfindel asked over his shoulder, “Would you care for more?”
“No, I am not thirsty,” was Thranduil’s reply.
Glorfindel took a big swig of his wine before walking a few feet to a tapestry and pretended to be engrossed in expecting it while thinking to himself, ‘Why all the coy gestures? Why does Thranduil just not come out and say he wants to bed me?’ These subtle flirtations were confusing and frustrated him all the more.
Thranduil narrowed his eyes and looked at Glorfindel. If he did not know better, he would think the Slayer was not interested in ellyn (m. elves). Thranduil did not know why, but he did not want to throw himself at the Elda, he had thought that the hints that he had given him thus far would have Glorfindel making a move by now. Glorfindel’s reputation before his death was legendary when it came to his passion for life and the pleasures of the body. Surely upon returning to Arda, that would not have changed. Deciding he had had enough at playing coy he stood and quietly came up behind the golden Slayer.
Glorfindel was so lost in his musings that he did not notice Thranduil’s approach until it was too late.
Grabbing Glorfindel about the hips, Thranduil pulled him back against him and breathed in his ear, “Let us play a different game now, I grow bored of chess.”
Glorfindel shuddered at the feel of Thranduil’s arousal nestled against his buttocks, which the King took as a sign of desire, not the reality, which was Glorfindel’s distaste. Finally finding his voice, Glorfindel said, “I am flattered, your Majesty, but I must decline on that sort of game.”
Frowning, Thranduil turned the Slayer around and pushed him up against the tapestry, affectively blocking his escape by leaning a hand on either side of Glorfindel’s head, “Surely you jest?”
“No, your Majesty. I…” Glorfindel started to say, only to have the King cut him off.
Thranduil swooped in and captured Glorfindel’s lips in a brutal kiss, demanding that the Elda give in. Pulling back, he searched Glorfindel’s eyes for the same desire that flamed through his body only to find none, “What, have you given your heart to another?” Thranduil asked with disbelief.
Glorfindel had been racking his brain for some excuse that would not bruise the King’s ego when his question gave him the answer to his dilemma, “Yes, I have. I apologize if I gave you any signals that I may be interested in anything other than friendship.”
Thranduil leaned back a little further and searched the Slayer’s eyes, then asked, “And who is the lucky elf that has finally caught your heart? For I had not heard that you had a lover.”
Glorfindel was not prepared for that question and before he realized what he was saying he said, “Erestor.”
If the Elda had just slapped him, Thranduil would not have been more shocked. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “But everyone knows that Lord Erestor does not like to be touched.”
Glorfindel was even more shocked at what he said than Thranduil was, but he hid it well. As Thranduil lowered his arms, Glorfindel said, “Yes, it has been difficult. We just recently have confessed of our love for one another and are taking things really slow.”
Thranduil was not convinced, but would not push any more this night. He would think on it a bit. Trying to sound apologetic, he said, “I must ask for your forgiveness, My Lord, for my actions.”
Glorfindel was confused by the King’s reaction to all this, but said, “There is nothing to forgive, you did not know. I would ask for your permission to retire now. I find with the drink and all the hours in the council chamber have made me weary.”
“But of course. I will bid you good night then and see you in the morning,” Thranduil said and watched Glorfindel walk out of the study. Sitting back down in front of the fire, Thranduil thought of what the Elda said, “Huh, Erestor. I do not believe it.”
Suddenly, a smile lit Thranduil’s face and he nearly laughed out loud. The important parts of the treaty were already agreed upon, it was just the little things and those Thranduil had been deliberately squabbling over so as to keep the Elda in Mirkwood, but by tomorrow afternoon the treaty would be signed. He would celebrate with Glorfindel by providing a scrumptious meal and, just as the Slayer was about to turn in, Thranduil would announce that he would be returning to Imladris with him. Thranduil had actually entertained thoughts of possibly trading warriors for training purposes, for Imladhel were very proficient with the sword and he knew that Elrond’s warriors could benefit with his warriors’ skills with the bow. Yes, that is what he would do. He would return with Glorfindel and see his reaction to that news. Maybe someone truly has captured the Elda’s heart, but for all of it, Thranduil could not believe that it could possibility be the dark-haired Advisor. All would not be lost if he could not have Glorfindel, for there was a tasty warrior that Thranduil had only been able to sample while he was last visiting Imladris. With that thought, Thranduil went in search of a warrior to grace his bed this night, preferably a golden-haired one, for he was in desperate need to assuage this fire coursing through his veins.
Glorfindel ran straight into his bathing chamber and splashed water on his face, trying to clear his muddled thoughts. Looking at his reflection, he cursed at what he had just told the King of Mirkwood. Glorfindel shook his head and wiped his face, then proceeded to disrobe, throwing his garment, without care, onto the floor. Hopping on one foot, then the other he tossed his boots aside and climbed under the covers after pulling off his leggings. Glorfindel lay on his back and threw his arm over his eyes, thinking of Erestor and how angry he would be if this ever got back to him. Why, of all the elves, did Erestor’s name tumble from his lips? He could have easily chosen any number of his fellow warriors to use as his make-believe lover. Using Erestor only made matters worse and he was afraid that if Erestor found out, he would not give him a chance to explain and would end their friendship. Glorfindel thought of Erestor, his present best friend, and then he thought of Ecthelion, his best friend from his past life. Ecthelion and Erestor were total opposites in every way. Where Ecthelion was affectionate and warm, Erestor was distant and cold.
Glorfindel smiled as he remembered his former best friend with great fondness. Thel and he had been nigh inseparable, always hanging on one another and many thought that they were secret lovers, though they never were. There was one time, when both of them had been well in their cups that they had kissed and groped each other until they came to their senses. In the morning they had sighed in relief that they had stopped themselves from making a huge mistake. Though they loved one another immensely, they were more like brothers than lovers and they knew that they were not the other’s soul mate.
Now Glorfindel’s smile faltered as his thoughts turned to the dark-haired Advisor. It caused him great pain to see the torment that Erestor went through each day and he longed to make Erestor smile, a true smile, that lit up his eyes. Just the thought of seeing Erestor happy lifted Glorfindel’s soul and he gasped, ‘Surely it could not be.’ He thought of the first time he saw Erestor upon his return to Arda. He had just traveled through the gates of Imladris and looked about at the sea of elves that lined the road that made its way to the courtyard, just outside of The Last Homely House. Immediately, Glorfindel knew who was Elrond, for he looked so much like his father and when his eye lit upon a dark-haired ellon (m. elf) next to the Lord of Imladris, his heart skipped a beat. Now all of the years came flooding back to Glorfindel since his return. Now he knew why he had lost the desire of other’s physical touch, the restlessness that had taken a hold of him. But why him, why Erestor? When finally Glorfindel had found what he had longed for all of his life, both his lives, his soul mate, he was unable to claim it. He could never tell Erestor, he could never confess that he loved him, for he did. He loved him in a way that he never thought he could love another; he would do anything for Erestor, even denying that love for his sake. Glorfindel saw how much it hurt Erestor to have Lindir care for him so, and he could not, would not, be the cause of any more pain, for Erestor already had too much.
Rolling to his side, Glorfindel hugged a pillow to him and a single tear slipped down to wet his cheek as loneliness took hold of him. The ache in his heart and soul, that had been slowly taking over him ever since his return to Arda, expanded tenfold. He would just continue to be Erestor’s friend and hope that one day he would confide in him and he would be there to catch him whenever he fell. With those thoughts, he fell into a fitful reverie, dreaming of a dark-haired shadow with tormented eyes that held the other part of his soul.
TBC