Shadows of Rivendell

Title: Shadows of Rivendell - Epilogue
Author: Genesis Grey (helfireclub@hotmail.com)
Pairings: Elladan/Elrohir, Elrond/Aragorn, Arwen/...
Rating: NC-17
Summary: What if the Ring had never left Rivendell?
Disclaimer: Own nothing. Wish I did, but don’t.
Warnings: Incest. Quasi-non-consensual situations. BDSM. Some het content.
Author’s Notes: Feedback always makes me happy. :) I really appreciate those who have taken time to comment about the story! Thanks always to Nethene RideRider fotaintaing.

Shadows of Rivendell - Epilogue



Elrond stood on the balcony watching as the nine riders left Rivendell. Estel was at their head. The box that held the ring securely tucked in his knapsack as he bore it safely to Lorien. Galadriel and Celeborn were wise beyond all those that still dwelt in Middle-earth and would know what to do with it. They had to know what to do, for if they did not, no elf would. Elrond only hoped Estel would not listen to the voice that called to him. Such things were not meant for human hands.

As the riders disappeared from sight, the Lord of Rivendell turned and walked from the balcony, his head hung slightly in shame. Slowly the shadow was disappearing from the hearts of Rivendell’s residents. No longer did the Ring call out with its siren song of temptation and desire, promising them untold power, power to do whatever they pleased. But the dark deeds it had caused would be remembered.

With an anguished sigh Elrond sat down in front of his desk. Already the elves of the valley had taken to hiding in their rooms, recovering mentally and physically from their ordeals. Thus far no one had become stricken with grief and delivered into the Halls of Mandos, but it loomed threateningly over many of the elves and the pain of the past days hovered over none more powerfully than Elrond’s own children…

***

Arwen shrieked through her sobs as she rocked violently in the corner of her room, knocking her head against the wall. She clawed at her arms as she howled mournfully. Her heart was breaking within her chest as she remembered what she had done. She began to cough as her voice cracked and her body slumped against the wall.

“What have I done?” she wailed softly, her scratchy voice preventing her from crying out any longer. She shook as she clutched the wall and dragged herself to her feet and at the way she had moved her furniture in front of the door. Glorfindel had come in an attempt to comfort her earlier. She had thrown him out, screaming incoherently that she was not that harlot that he’d had his way with. The pain that sparked in his eyes at her words as he turned to leave nearly destroyed her. It was not his fault. She had been the aggressor and they had both been under the shadow. Their will had not been their own.

She moved toward the bed and limply threw her bruised body upon it.

“What have I done?” she sobbed into the thick blankets. She had betrayed Estel’s love and that hurt most of all. Since pledging herseo tho the mortal she had lain with no other, but in a manner of days since the Ring came to Rivendell… Glorfindel, Erestor, Lindir, and countless others that had crossed her path. A bitter hatred of Sauron, the Ring’s creator, clutched her heart and Arwen sobbed for her lost virtue. Never again would the elves see her as a Lady of Rivendell and Lorien, nor the incarnation of Luthien, to them she would be nothing than a filthy whore.

A cry caught in her throat. To Estel shuld uld be nothiShe She could never be his queen, nor even his beloved. He would never have her now. Not when he found out what had occurred during his drugged sleep. A pained smile formed on her teary face. For now her mortal love was blissfully ignorant of all that had happened in Rivendell while he slept. Soon after his awakening her father had sent him away to Lorien with the desperate task of the Ring.

She trembled and began to cry again, clutching the blanket and pressing iainsainst her face as she thought of her father. As much as she loved Estel, she had wronged none more than her beloved father. She had besmirched her mother’s memory, telling her father that he should give into the pleasures of the flesh. The look upon her father’s face as she had forced herself upon him, corrupting the chaste kisses of a daughter’s love. The look in his eyes, the betrayal, as she taunted him and tempted him with her own body. The horrified expression as she wrestled him onto his back, as he went blank and let it happen, unwilling to hurt her and unwilling to consent. She marveled that her heart still had the will to beat.

She bit the blanket and thanked the Valar her father had forcefully denied her and thrown her aside. She would not have been able to live with herself if she had raped her own father. Her eyes closed in an attempt to sthe nhe new flow of tears. The pain she had caused her father was immense, she knew that and wished there was a way to take back all she’d done. But what was done could not be undone, ever.

With a sniff she sat up on the bed and clutched her knees to her chest. She would apologize to her father and to all those she had wronged under the power of the Ring. It was all she could do. She closed her eyes. At least she had not done as great a wrong as her dearly loved brothers…

***

Elrohir lay on his stomach with his chin propped on his hands as he stared out the window listlessly. He could feel every welt on his body acutely as they burned in a painfemineminder of the shadow that had gripped them all. His father had bound the wounds gently, lovingly even, a day before as Elladan huddled in the corner of his own room. When their father had taken him to his own room, Elladan hadn’t moved, hadn’t even said a word.

Not that Elrohir could blame him.

He closed his eyes as he let his head rest on his hands. He had broken the sacred unspoken pact between himself and his twin. That they would never leave, nor hurt, nor pity one another; that every choice would be between them both. He had broken that promise the moment he spoke words against their mother, the beautiful Celebrian, and plotted to anger his own flesh and blood into an act as grievous as rape.

His stomach turned as he remembered the words he’d spoken against his own mother. He felt he would be sick as he heard himself say she enjoyed what the orcs had done to her, virtually calling her a slut that any creature in Middle-earth could have, accusing his own brother of lusting after her. He wished he could cut off his tongue to prevent those words from being spoken. He had always known his anger was great at Celebrian’s leaving, but until yesterday he hadn’t realized how great it was. “I loved her too,” he said bitterly. He and Elladan were twins, but their mother had always liked Elladan m And And Elladan had liked her more. He was forever left out in the cold, the unwanted and unneeded one, nothing but an extra.

“Jealousy is unbecoming an elf,” he reminded himself as he raised his head. But he couldn’t help it. It hurt him that his brother had always seemed to love their mother and sister more than him. It hurt him because his brother was the only who ever knew who he was. In a way, Elladan had broken the pact first.

He shook his head, that was jealously speaking, the remnants of the shadow. “We’re not quite elves, are we, Elladan?” he said to the room, slowly moving off the bed so not to jostle his wounds as he got to his feet. There were moments when he truly cursed their much-loved father’s human blood.

Elrohir shook slightly as he rose and got off the bed. He hated himself so much. It was his own fault that the shadow, that accursed Ring, tempted him so quickly and that he accepted so eagerly. He was weak in his lust and adoration for his own twin.

He smirked bitterly. Twincest. Such an amusing concept. So evil and forbidden. He clenched his teeth as he pulled the coverlet of f the bed. He hated himself because he wasn’t fully sorry about what had happened. He was disgusted with himself that he couldn’t full repent, but he would never have had that chance with out the Ring. He whimpered. Perhaps the Ring was still calling to him or perhaps it had left a permanent scar in his soul.

He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, though he knew the chill wasn’t in the air. It was in his own heart.

Was it really any wonder he had fallen in love with Elladan? His brother was charming and gentle and energetic and personable and everything he wasn’t. But most of all his brother never looked past him. Even when their mother and sister and even their father were about Elladan never looked past him. Elladan loved him.

Tears were streaming down his face as he walked across the floor and looked out the window. From his room he could see Elladan’s room. His twin was sitting in the window and from the forlorn slump Elrohir could tell he was hurting, badly. His body trembled as he thought of how he caused that pain. He sucked in a deep breath as he resolved he would go to his brother and beg forgiveness. As he left, he could not hbut but idly wonder how his other brother was faring on the way to Lorien…

***

Aragorn dropped down next to the tree and watched the flow of the river as his companions dealt with their horses. He marveled at how well everyone was acting, despite the dangerous cargo they carried. The bag was heavy at his side as he laid it on the ground, looping a strap over his arm as he closed his eyes to catch a moments rest and think.

There had been a strange feeling of a shadow creeping over Rivendell when he left and he wondered at its origin. He guessed it must have been the Ring, since Elrond was sending it so hastily to Lorien. But there had been a haunted look in his foster father’s eyes that unsettled Aragorn. Never before had he seen the Lord of Rivendell look so addled. Not that any of the other inhabitants of the valley had been much better. Arwen hadn’t kissed him goodbye. And the twins had somehow been injured during his sickness.

He opened his eyes and let out a sigh, smiling a bit as Halbarad was dunked unceremoniously in the river. His sickness was a curiosity to him as well. He didn’t remember getting sick or being sick. Is all he remembered was wakin in in Elrond’s room with his father watching over him, that haunted expression on his face. He had been confused, but he knew he had to have been sick. Why else would he have been in Elrond’s room? It was then his foster father had asked him if he would be aundeundertake a deadly and dangerous task. Of course he’d agreed.

Aragorn sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

There was also the matter of the strangest fever dream he recalled having. It made him blush a bit just to think of it, but it had seemed so real. Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, his own foster father, pleasuring him. He could still feel the touch of the elegant fingers over the skin of his thighs, the mouth on him, moving and licking. He shook his head and ed led lightly, hoping such visions were the call of the Ring he carried. If not then he had betrayed Arwen in a way he had not thouposspossible.

Sometimes he could feel it call out to him. It was almost a warning that wrapped around him, pleading that he should take it for the good of all Middle-earth. That without its power evil would fall upon the land. He smiled. Such a seductive and calming voice, no wonder so many had fallen prey to its call. Isildur never had a chance when it spoke to his war-ravaged soul. But Aragorn steadfastly refused to make his forefather’s mistake anew.

“How long do you need ?” h?” he called to Halbarad who was undressing to dry his clothes and glaring angrily at the cackling Dunedain. Of them there were five of his Dunedain and four elves. He had not liked the thought of so many men taking the Ring to Lorien, elves were much more suited to deny such temptations, but his foster father had assured him it was best this way.

“I say we break bread here and then continue on our way during the night,” Halbarad answered. “The Nazgul are afoot and I do not like the idea of being in one place while the shadows move amongst are dark around us.”

“Very well, we will move again at dusk,” Aragorn nodded as he looked up at the sky. Already the blue was beginning to give way to golds and reds and oranges. Dusk would come quickly. He settled back against the tree as the elves climbed high into them, eating their lembas, while the Dunedain made a small fire and began to cook what rations they had.

He closed his eyes again, pushing all thoughts of fever dreams out of his mind as he daydreamed of his beloved Arwen. Traveling to Lorien always brought back such fond memories. A frown twitched on his face as a stray thought made him wonder how his brothers could have been so badly hurt within the confines of the valley…

***

Elladan hunched in his window looking out at a waterfall that flowed over the valley’s edge and into the Bruien. His back hurt as he leaned against the windowpane, but he didn’t care. Elrohir couldn’t even sit or lie on his back thanks to what he had done. He didn’t deserve comfort. He closed his eyes as he tried to convince himself he had been provoked under the dark call of the Ring. That it had been his brother’s words against their mother that had caused him to be so cruel.

But that was not all of it and he knew it.

He had always wanted his twin solely to himself, even when they were young elflings he had been jealous whenever his brother played with other elves. Haldir had been the worst. Always fawning over his twin, leaning close to touch him, even when they were children. It rankled him to no ends that the arrogant elf had taken pleasure in his brother’s body.

He ed aed and closed his eyes, angry with himself. It wasn’t any of his affair who his twin took to bed. The only thing that was his affair was that it wasn’t him that his brother chose to take to his bed.

A cracked cry escaped his lips as he pressed his hands against his face. What had he done?

He knew exactly what he had done and he cursed himself for it. He had done the unthinkable. He had harmed and sexually abused his own dear brother. Hurt him. Made him cry. His hands trembled as he felt the leather of his father’s belt against his fingers and saw the welts rising on his brother’s body as he struck him again and again and again. Then he indulged in the sins of the flesh. His twin’s bruised and bloodied flesh.

Letting out a low moan of anguish he did not hear the doorhis his room open or the soft footfall that crossed the room. He did, however, feel the warm, familiar arms that wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him against a hard chest. “Open your eyes, Elladan,” a soft musical voice said, as one of the arms loosened as his hands were pulled away from his face. Opening his eyes he looked up into the face that was identical to his own. Elrohir.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Valar help me, I can’t even tell you how sorry I am,” Elladan said, the words just tumbling out as leaned his head against his twin’s chest. It was so comfortable there. It was the only remnant of his childhood that had not been taken away or defiled by the orcs. “Please, don’t hate me, Elrohir. I didn’t want to hurt you. I was just so angry and when I thought of you and those other elves… I was jealous. You’re my twin. Mine.” He paused a moment. “Please, don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you Elladan. I couldn’t,” Elrohir said and for a moment Elladan was lost in the sound of his twin’s forgiving voice. Slowly he wrapped his arms around the slim waist, stoppinddenddenly when a pained sound escaped his brother’s lips. “It’s alright. You’re not hurting me.” He felt himself relaxing against his brother’s body, his arms clasping the thin torso.

“It was my fault, Elladan,” his brother said softly, trembling slightly. “Please, forgive me. Please. It’s not your fault at all. I made you do all those things to me. I knew how you would react to every word I said. The way I acted. I knew what I was driving you to do.” Elladan listened to his twin’s words, wanting to argue, but unable to use his voice as he continued to speak. “I know it was wrong, but I just wanted you to look at me and only me for once. I…” his voice faltered, “I wanted you, Elladan, I wanted you.

It took a moment before Elladan understood what his brother was saying. He almost laughed. They were the same. They always had been. Even in their desires, no matter how dark and forbidden, they were the same. As always, their methods were different, Elrohir smooth and manipulative and he forceful and dominating. But they were the same. There was no one else that could understand them so completely, so perfectly. “We’re damned, Elrohir, aren’t we?” he asked softly.

“Yes, Elladan, we are,” Elrohir replied as the silence settled in around them. Elladan sighed miserably as he pulled his brother onto his lap and held him tight, despite the pain they were both in. It was the only safe and comfortable place left for them in the world of Middle-earth, each others arms. They were crying again and Elladan couldn’t help but wonder what their father would say…

***

Elrond felt the tendrils of Vilya’s consciousness unwrapping from his mind. He let out a sigh. He did not need the ring of air to remind him of how awful he had acted. He was already quite ashamed. His fingers curled around thms oms of his chair as he closed his eyes.

The ring was traveling to Lorien and normalcy was once again settling over the valley. Though the shadow upon the hearts of Rivendell’s residents was not dissipating as quickly. There was a great feeling of shame and anger. He could feel it all around him. Acutely from his children.

Arwen. His poor, beautiful, darling Arwen was grieving her lost innocence. Never before had she done anything in namename of dark urges: temptation and lust. She had always been the per Lad Lady that all elves looked upon with pride. Now few of them could look upon her without the memory of obscene carnal pleasures being taken blooming in their minds. But they would forget and she would once again be a Lady. TElroElrond knew. That he would ensure it happened. He would allow nothing to hurt his daughter, his precious Evenstar. The Ring upon his hand gleamed in agreement.

His thoughts turned to his sons.

Estel. His beloved mortal foster son. Doomed to die by suppsupposed gift of men. Elrond trembled. He had raped the boy while he was incapacitated by a sleeping draught the elven lord himself had mixed and tricked the child into imbibing. He had not even been thinking of l whl when he touched his mortal son. He had been thinking of Isildur. Elros. In some ways that was the worst betrayal of all. He vowed to make it up to Estel, somehow. He knew he would think of a way.

Then there was the matter of his other sons.

Elladan. Elrohir. His twins. He shuddered as he thought oem. em. He could feel their love and desire for one another radiating through the Ring on his finger. He felt briefly guilty for spying on them, but it was for their own good that he did it. He worried at how badly his beating had hurt them, even though he had tended to the wounds himself. He had hoped Arwen’s accusations of their involvement had been a joke, but it appeared she was right. No good could come of this incest. He knew that well.

The Valar would break them asunder, for breaking the unspoken law, just as they had he and Elros. Cruel. So very cruel. But perhaps he could stop that from happening. Perhaps there was a way he could protect his sons and allow them to be happy. Perhaps…

The weak voice of Vilya screamed that his thoughts were madness before it was forever shut out of his mind by the Ring upon his clenched fist. The Ring that promised absolute power and dark promises.

The One Ring of Sauron.