A Planned Event

Chapter 9


Molnenion had not returned home for three days now. He chose to go about his regular duties as a guard, which consisted of training and patrolling the city. In his off hours, he spent time with some of his comrades either drinking or playing games. He would sleep at Meriliel's house each night, and brood. He was so like the father that he never met or even knew about, that it sometimes frightened Erestor.

On the fourth morning as Nenion ate his breakfast that Meriliel had prepared, there came a knock upon the kitchen door. All looked up to see Erestor waiting before the doorway for entrance. Meriliel smiled and let in her friend after greeting him with a hug. Nenion began to stand as he rolled his eyes upon seeing his father. Attempting to leave, Nenion found his forearm caught in Laegon’s surprisingly strong grip. “No running away Nenion,” whispered the healer into Nenion's chocolate eyes, “face your problems, for they will only follow you wherever you may go.” Sighing heavily, Nenion sat back down in his chair hard. He still refused to look upon his father's face.

Laegon greeted Erestor as he sat across from his son at the kitchen table. Erestor's eyes were always filled with a sadness and yet, whenever his gaze fell upon his son, his eyes became alive with twinkling fondness and pride.

“I have missed you, Nenion.” Erestor stated quietly as a cup of tea was placed before him. He nodded his thanks to Meriliel who suddenly began to leave with her husband. Erestor, however, grabbed her hand in passing. “Please, I need the two of you here, for I desire to tell truths to my son and I need you as my witnesses… please?” Erestor implored with those sad brown eyes of his.

“Of course, my friend,” Meriliel answered as she nodded to Laegon, who agreed to stay as well.

“Nenion, I beg your forgiveness. I...I ...have only done that for which I thought would be for your benefit. I... wanted you to have a better life than I had.” Erestor stammered on with fear in his voice. After what seemed to take forever, Erestor spoke quietly, “you had no mother in Ondolindë.”

Nenion's eyes narrowed. “From where then did my mother hail?”

Erestor sighed, his shoulders heaving and his chest rising and falling heavily. “You have no mother.” Nenion went to protest but Erestor was quicker. “I gave birth to you, my son.”

Here Molnenion's eyes widened and he let out a snort. “You are mad to think I could believe such a lie!” Shivers ran up and down his spine at his father's words. It could not be true; it could never be true.

“Nenion,” Laegon gently spoke out. “I was there when they brought you and your father here. Erestor was near death, but unbelievably strong. He had lost much blood … during the birth. He delivered you alone, in the wilds.”

“What fell joke is this? Meriliel?” Nenion looked with wild eyes towards the only Elf that he had ever called mother.

“Oh my dear, sweet Nenion, what is being said is all truth.” She took his hand in hers and gently rubbed the back of it with her thumbs. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears for his pain and confusion. She told Erestor to speak to Nenion of his parentage when he was but an elfling to no avail. It would have been easier then. Though Erestor, being stubborn, refused to listen to her guidance. And so it now came down to this ... this mess. Nenion found he could not speak.

“I was born unto one as myself. We were bred that way in Ondolindë. For only another male with female....” here Erestor struggled deeply within himself. He never admitted aloud what he was and it was killing him inside to have to do so. Closing his eyes, the tears fell freely now, wetting his long, dark lashes. “I have a womb. I have the ability to become with child. I have a small opening just below my… penis, a small va....” Erestor was cut off abruptly.

“ENOUGH!” Molnenion yelled as he abruptly stood, banging his fists on the table before him. The other three at the table jumped at his sudden ire. In two strides he grabbed his sword and was out the door. Meriliel went to run after him, but was stopped by her husband.

“Let him go, he has much to think on.” Laegon softly told her.

Erestor stood and half bowed to Meriliel and Laegon. Then without speaking, he too, left their house. Laegon came behind his wife and embraced her to which she started sobbing. Turning in his arms, she wet his shirt with her tears.

Erestor somehow made it to his home, though he did not remember walking the path there. His son's face was the only thing in his mind. He headed for the bedroom and fell upon his bed, curling himself into a ball. “Damn you Ecthelion, damn you for all time.” cursed Erestor through his tears. “Damn you as well Valar, for what you have made me into! I hate you all!” Exhausted, he fell into a fitful sleep full of uneasy dreams.

He dreamed of Gondolin, of Ecthelion's house. His lord and master had thrown a small dinner party. Only Glorfindel and his lover were there, along with Ecthelion's newest interest, a pretty maiden whose father was an advisor in Turgon's court. Along with the house servants, Ecthelion always had Erestor around to wait on his every need. Erestor would sit in a corner until he was needed. If Ecthelion needed his glass refilled, he would just nod towards Erestor who was now well trained to know just what each gesture meant to his lord.

“Erestor, come here, stand before me.” Ecthelion motioned Erestor over to stand in front of the couch that he was sitting upon. Leaning over to Glorfindel he said into his friend's ear. “Wait until you see this.”

Erestor stood now before his lord, his eyes cast downward, his hair long and straight, held back only by a single clasp. He wore a simple silken shirt of burgundy, with flowing silken black pants. His feet were bare and his ankles were clad in bracelets that jangled when he walked. “Come closer, my pet.” crooned Thel in that smooth voice of his.

Glorfindel's eyes widened at the sight of the beautiful Elf before him. He could see the rounded abdomen now becoming visible. Ecthelion's lover looked on in disdain, while Glorfindel's looked on with deep interest.

“Erestor, lift up your shirt, show my friends what grows within you. Erestor recoiled inside but outwardly did as he was told. His eyes never once left the floor.

“Thel, that is not necessary,” Glorfindel tried to save face for the poor creature in front of them.

“Nonsense, I am most proud.” Thel preened and ran his hand over Erestor's swollen belly. “Can you imagine how beautiful my elfling will be?”

“It shall be lovely, indeed.” Smiled Tulcacár, Glorfindel's companion, in appreciation of the beauty of the slave before him. “May I touch it?” Tulcacár asked even as he saw Glorfindel's glare.

“Of course, go ahead.” Ecthelion beamed with pride at the loveliness before him, not noticing his companion seething with jealousy, or perhaps that was his plan.

Tulcacár laid his hand on Erestor's abdomen and began to slowly caress it in circles. “Beautiful, you are truly blessed, my Lord Ecthelion.”

Thel smiled wickedly and after Tulcacár sat back down, Ecthelion stood before Erestor once more. “You must see, for this is amazing.” Smiled Thel as he reached for Erestor's waistband. Erestor began to physically shake. Here he was on display like some sort of animal up for inspection.

Glorfindel stood. “I believe we must be going now.” He was embarrassed for the one standing before them.

“Fin, wait a minute.” Tulcacár smiled while licking his lips.

“Then I shall leave without you.” He clicked his heels and turned to Ecthelion. “Thank you for dinner, and goodnight.” He bowed his head, then turned and left.

“Fin is such a bore!” teased Thel as he then pushed Erestor's pants downwards, to just past his flaccid elfhood. “Did you ever see such a site, a male with a pregnant belly?”

Tulcacár licked his lips and began to breath heavier at the sight before him. Ecthelion's companion sat there pouting. Inwardly, Erestor detached himself from the moment. He felt only shame. Not liking the way Tulcacár was looking at his prize, Ecthelion pulled up Erestor's pants and covered his belly once more. Wrenching Erestor's head back roughly; Ecthelion plundered Erestor’s mouth in front of his guests. Erestor nearly choked from the viciousness of the kiss, for his lord's tongue went too far into the back of his mouth. Releasing him, Ecthelion whispered into Erestor's ear. “Go now and make my room ready for bed, though I may be having visitors this night. Then go to your bed and do not come out unless I summon you.”

Erestor nodded and left at once, happy for the chance to flee the room before anything else would happen. “Do not pout my dear, I have plenty to go around.” He heard Ecthelion say and then heard someone else being kissed.

Erestor hurriedly made the room ready all to his lord's liking and retreated to his bed, donning sleep pants and shirt. He tried desperately to sleep, but the life within him began to stir making him unable to fall asleep. He then heard laughter; a maiden's voice and he also heard the laughter of the other that had touched him. Cringing, he curled himself tighter, praying that his lord would not summon him. He lay there, trying not to listen, but it was hard to do without a door to his little room; a room that was only separated from his lord's with a single wall. For hours he was made to bear witness to the sounds of moaning, giggling, groans and various sounds of lovemaking before it grew quiet. Fitfully dozing off, he suddenly became aware of a shadow, a presence, hovering in the corner. Looking up, he saw the naked form of the one who had touched him in the parlor, gazing upon him. He felt a chill go through his spine at the wave of lust that emanated from the one before him. Next thing he knew, Ecthelion was standing behind the Elf with a knife to his throat. “He is mine. He is off limits to you; you have overstayed your welcome and should leave...now.” Ecthelion said with deadly calm.

Erestor awoke with a start. His room was dark and for a minute he thought he would see Ecthelion standing before him. Looking around, he realized that it had indeed been but a dream, for he was safe and in his own home.

A knock resounded on his front door. Groaning, he wearily sat up and dragged himself to the door. The king’s messenger stood before him. “The king requests your presence.” As the messenger turned to leave, he found his arm caught in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Just a moment, please.” Erestor muttered as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “Please inform our king, that I am not myself and I am unable to fulfill his request this night.”

The messenger looked stunned but nodded his acknowledgment. “As you wish.”
Erestor then turned and went inside once more. Changing into a simple sleeping gown, he crept back into his bed. This was the first he ever refused the king. Part of him was wary of the fact that in Ondolindë he was a slave and could not refuse any “request” made of him. He was conditioned to fear retribution for his actions. The other part of him rejoiced in the fact that he was indeed no longer a slave and could refuse a simple request. He smiled to himself at that thought, for he felt free for the first time since leaving Ondolindë. Inside he had a small hope that Gil-Galad would come and visit him, for he had never set foot in Erestor’s modest home in all the years that they were lovers.

Gil-Galad met the knock on his door with a smile that quickly faded upon seeing not Erestor, but his messenger. “My king,” bowed the Elf before him. “I regret to inform you that Master Erestor has sent to you this message: I am not myself and I am unable to fulfill your request this night.”

“Thank you,” nodded Gil blankly as he closed the door and stood a bit perplexed in his rooms. ‘ I wonder what is wrong?’ Thought Gil-Galad. ‘Perhaps I should see to him?’

Another knock resounded at his chamber door. Gil opened it to see Cirdan standing there.
“Greetings, sire, fancy yourself a card game this night?” Cirdan flashed a set of worn, aged cards.

A flicker passed Gil’s eyes. Should he go see if Erestor was feeling well? Though would it look right for the king to be making his way across the city to visit his lover in the richness of night? Should he seek advice from Cirdan about this? Was it not enough that he made a stand in making Erestor a junior advisor? He found he suddenly doubted himself.

“If your eyes could talk, my dear Ereinion, I wager they would tell quite a tale this eve.” Cirdan patted his friend’s shoulder.

“I find I have doubts.” Gil spoke finally.

“We all have them from time to time.” Cirdan replied.

“Aye, you are right, come, let’s start that game.” Gil smiled wide. “Did I hear mention of a wager?” He wiggled his eyebrows.


TBC….

Tulcacár (Headstrong) Quenya