The Dark Star of Gondolin

Title: Dark Star of Gondolin
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Author: Lynsey
Websites: Read updates and much more first at my livejournal: http://lynsey-schadegg.livejournal.com/ . Read my stories in an easy format at this archive: http://swoon.dreamelf.com/viewuser.php?uid=42 . Read all of my Erestor/Glorfindel only stories here: http://ressandfin.queencheetah.com/viewuser.php?uid=23
Beta: Patricia Pleasant aka slayer9649
Chapter: 7/?
Pairings: Eventually Erestor/Glorfindel, this chapter Turgon/Durel mentioned
Rating: NC-17 (for adult themes)
Warnings: hermaphrodite, angst, references to a minor in a sexual situation, almost non-con
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue, all I got are college loans, and this isn’t helping to pay them off.
Summary this Chapter: Durel’s games nearly destroy both he and his Lord.
A/N: In this chapter, Durel is approximately equal in age to a sixteen year old human. This story contains the idea of an ellian or hermaphrodite elf. This chapter is an excerpt from Durel’s journal. The courtesan in this world is roughly equal to the geisha of the real world (except add more sex).

Nearly three months have now passed since I first lay with Turgon. I have entertained him multiple times. I have paid for the institution of Glorfindel’s dreams with my body. Each time I submit to the King, I feel as if I die a little more.

Yes, I feel as if I am dying. Fading. My treachery against Glorfindel eats at my soul, destroys my mind. It devastates my body. Glorfindel has called the greatest healers in Gondolin and paid them a fortune in gold to find the cause of my ‘unknown’ illness. I want to tell him. I want to cleanse my soul with my confession. I want him to tell me he loves me, that he forgives me.

But I say nothing. How am I to know that what I see as love in his eyes is actually love? What if I see the love of a beloved where there is nothing but the love of a ‘parent’ for a ‘child’? I know nothing of love, except what I have gleaned from stories. Maybe my own need for affection has blinded me to Glorfindel’s actual feelings.

But oh, how I wish. I wish that I could summon the courage to tell my Lord how very, very much I love him. I adore the way he kisses my cheek in the morning. The sweet way he feeds me the broth that is my only sustenance these days. The way he holds my arm as we transverse the palace. The way he shows me the diagrams of the orphanage with the light of hope shining from his eyes.

At night, I often awake to Glorfindel shaking my shoulders, begging me to open my eyes…open my eyes. I have started sleeping with my eyes closed. He awakens me from nightmares, also. I dream of darkness, flames, screams. I dream of a dark-haired Lord, his great spear flashing in the light of flames that have overtaken the battle field. I dream of a golden-haired King, terrible in his wrath. I dream of a flaxen haired prince, crying at the loss of his father. I dream of a Lord, hidden away in a peaceful valley. Through all the dreams, I feel empty, hollow. As if there is nothing, absolutely nothing left inside of me except sorrow and an endless grief that makes the very foundations of my soul quiver in fear. In my dreams, there is no Glorfindel.

Through it all, I refuse to give up. I refuse to break at the hands of Turgon’s unwanted attention. I will not let Maika’s anger deter me from learning all I can. I will do everything for Glorfindel’s cause.

The Courtesan has finally begun teaching me the art of pleasure. The first day of this training, I learned that there is little that a Courtesan has to do physically to please their partner. Ours is an art of the mind. She taught me, albeit grudgingly, to manipulate the body’s senses using only my mind. I now clearly see the power that a Courtesan can hold over another elf. I can truly make someone come without a touch. This is why so few are entered into Courtesan training. It is a rare ability to manipulate another this way. The only other gift like ours is that of the healers. They, however, can only manipulate the body, not the senses as a Courtesan can.

I only hope that is newly discovered talent will be my ally in times to come.

I get down on my knees and pray daily for the strength of the Valar to touch me in some small way. I can only hope they take pity on one, insignificant whore as he plays games of sex and politics of which he knows nothing. Just as they took pity on one, insignificant child as he struggled to survive on the streets of Gondolin.

**********((Next Entry))**********

I, Glorfindel of Gondolin, am a fool. I thought myself deceived. I thought myself wronged. I nearly killed my little star, all for nothing.

One may wonder what happened that I now write in this journal, and not its original owner. Durel now lays in my bed, much as he did when he first came to me. He is ill, dying, injured, and it is all my fault.

Three days ago, I had gone to retrieve Durel early from his lessons. He had been so weak the day before, and I thought that he would be better off only having a half a day’s lessons.

I did not find him where I had expected him to be. Maikasilmë had answered her door as usual. She informed me that Durel was not in her quarters. Confused, I asked her where my little star had wandered off to. She smiled at me then. It was a smile that I now see was laden with malicious intent. At the time, I was too worried about finding Durel than deciphering the elleth’s facial expressions. She told me to seek my charge in the rooms of the King. I couldn’t help but wonder what the King wanted with Durel. Surely he would have summoned me if he had business with my House?

I made my way at a brisk pace to the King’s quarters, mulling over the reason’s the King would need to speak with Durel the entire way. I rounded the corner that lead to the large gallery in front of the King’s chambers. The doors in the middle of the gallery, on the wall to my left opened and Durel stepped out, as well as Turgon. I hurried my steps to intercept my charge. As he closed the door behind him, Turgon grasped Durel and pinned him against the wooden portal. He took the dark-haired child’s lips in a fiery kiss that stopped me in my steps. The King released the lips under his to whisper in Durel’s ear while his hands ran possessively over the body of my little star. I expected Durel to fight the King, to plead with him to stop. He…he did not. He kissed Turgon back passionately. He smiled and laughed at Turgon’s words. He sighed and moaned at the caresses to his body. One of his legs raised to wrap around the King’s thigh.

I must have made a sound of distress, for both turned to look in my direction. Durel’s eyes widened, and he paled considerably. Turgon…Turgon smiled. A smile not unlike Maikasilmë’s. “Glorfindel. It is good to see you. To what pleasure do I owe this visit?” asked the King.

Durel cried out and thrashed in the King’s embrace. Turgon released him and the dark-haired child ran to me. He fell to his knees at my feet, bowing his head to touch my feet as I heard the first sounds of sobbing escape his lips. The Courtesan’s loose hair fluttered at my feet, his loose robe created a puddle of silk laying limply on the ground. “My Lord…I…It’s not…it’s not what it seems…”

At that moment, something within me broke. A terrible, unreasoning anger welled up within my breast. “Not what it seems? It *seems* that I have a whore that can’t keep his legs together.” I kicked him then. Not hard, but enough for him to fall to his side and curl in on himself in fear. It felt good to see him at my mercy. After all, my heart told me that he had betrayed me. Forsaken me. “So, my King,” I sneered, “Was he worth all the gold I put into him?”

“That and more,” Turgon laughed.

I kneeled down and pulled at the mass of dark hair spread on the floor. Durel looked up me through his dark locks and tears. “So you let others sample your charms before I even get to sample what my money has bought? Little slut.” I pulled him up by the arm roughly as I stood. “Good day, my King,” I bowed to Turgon as I left with Durel in tow. The darkling said nothing as I made my way to the stables where my carriage awaited. I made him sit on the floor of the carriage as we returned home. I said nothing, and neither did he, except to utter little, hopeless cries as he tried to suppress his sobbing.

I dragged him forcefully to my rooms once we arrived at my home. We entered the room, and I approached the bed. I flung him on it, and grasped his face to force him to meet my eyes. “Do I mean so little to you?” I whispered. My anger and sorrow coming across even though my voice was soft. “How could you? You *knew* how much you meant to me. You *knew* how much I loved you,” he whimpered at that and tried to pull away.

“I knew nothing!” he protested. His voice was thick with tears.

I kept a strong grip on his face. I knew I must be hurting him by now, and causing bruises on that flawless, pale skin, but I persisted. “You KNEW! Don’t you give that crap, you little slut. You knew that I loved you. Only an idiot could have missed it. And you, little one, are no simpleton.” The anger and feeling of betrayal grew inside me until I thought I would burst with it. “I would have done anything for you! I would have DIED for you! And you deceive me like this. How many have you lain with?”

“Glorfindel, I didn’t want this! I didn’t ask for this.”

I slapped him then. His head snapped to the side and he lay on the quilts of our bed, stunned and shaking. “You certainly looked like you wanted it when you moaned like a wonton harlot at his touch. Is that what it takes to earn your love? Must I treat you as he did? As a possession to be taken at my will?”

“Glorfindel, don’t-” he pleaded as I rolled him onto his back and began pulling the robes from his body. He fought me weakly, and I slapped him again. He now lay still beneath me as I ripped the expensive cloth.

He cried and shivered silently when he was naked and exposed to my gaze. “Is this what it takes for you to love me?” I asked again as I roughly pulled his legs apart and pinned his body to the bed with my much larger bulk. His eyes showed his fear, as did the shaking of his body. I paid it no head as my hand made its way between his legs. He struggled as I thrust my finger into him. Tears ran unheeded down my own face I felt the sticky remains of Turgon’s seed within him. I leaned down and whispered harshly into his ear. “If this is what it takes to win your love, I will never have you. You sicken me.” I removed myself from his body and stood at the side of the bed. He curled on his side and keened his sadness into the silence of our bedchamber.

I left the room to find two guards of my house. I gave them the instruction to take Durel to the back gate of the gardens and throw him out into the alley on the other side. I had the cruel thought that the trash should go where it belonged. I did not want him re-entering the house, and I instructed the guards to post sentries at each entrance to keep him out of the building. I was in my study when they took Durel from my rooms. I could hear him crying, calling out for me in panic. I opened my window and watched as he was dragged through the gardens and forcefully shoved out the iron gate, still naked and vulnerable. I could hear his pleas if I concentrated hard enough.

I closed the window to block out the sound of his calls for help. I crumpled where I stood and gave in to my own grief. What a fool I had been. Everything had been just a game to him. My love was nothing more than a way to manipulate me. He had used my love against me to get what he wanted. I had given him everything he ever asked for and anything else he did not.

It seemed like hours later before I dragged myself from the floor of my study. I sat heavily in the nearest chair, my grief making my body feel heavy. I turned and saw that I was seated at Durel’s desk. His journal lay neatly in the center of the dark wood. I eyed it sadly and opened the cover to read its contents.

A few hours later, I ran from the study with all my speed to the garden gate.

I had been a fool two times over.

TBC…