The Dark Star of Gondolin

Title: The Dark Star of Gondolin
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Author: Lynsey
Beta: Whoever decides they want to.
Chapter: 1/?
Pairings: Eventually Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: MINOR!!!! Slash, prostitution, drug use, hermaphroditism
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue, all I got are college loans, and this isn’t helping to pay them off.
Summery this Chapter: Glorfindel takes in a stray.
A/N: I made up an age chart for elven children. I assumed that they age at ½ the rate of human children. So…a 20 year old elfling would equal a 10 year old human child and so on. The boy in this story is 30 years old, or equivalent to a 15 year old human. This also contains the idea of the ellian, a hermaphrodite elf. I am taking into account that most human females start their menstrual cycles and are able to reproduce at the age of 15. I distinctly remember one of my friends getting pregnant at the age of 13, so I figured the same could happen at 15.

Glorfindel-

I know you have not finished with the last one I gave you, but I got another one here that I really think you might want. At least come see him. I’ll be at the Sweet Honeysuckle.

-Thiol

Glorfindel took a stick of charcoal out of his satchel and scribbled a hasty reply before handing the note and a copper to a small, wiry elfling that had appeared with the message and sent him on his way. Glorfindel gestured to his ward, a young elf named Halide and moved into the mansion.

“I’ll be going out tonight,” the Lord said as they made their way to the living quarters. “Mind the house while I am gone. I may be bringing a new one back with me.”

“Would you like me to ready a set of rooms, my Lord?”

“Nay. Have a cot placed in my room. I’ll want to keep an eye on him if I should happen to bring him back.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

Glorfindel parted with Halide, and started going through one of his wardrobes. He dressed in a set of scruffy, hole-filled clothes. He took the grease-powder out of a drawer in the vanity and began coating his hair in it to dull the golden sheen. It also made his locks look like they hadn’t been washed in a long period of time. Next, several daggers were hidden about his person, and a bag of golden coins was hidden under his clothing were it could not be lifted from his person. The Lord left his home as the sun began to wane dressed as a ruffian, heading to the poorest district of Gondolin.

For many years, the Lord of the Golden Flower had been taking in strays. Children of remarkable talent found in the dark alleys of Gondolin’s poorer neighborhoods. These areas of filth, poverty, and orphans was often referred to as the Burrow. His operative, Thiol, kept an eye out for street urchins, pick-pockets, and, most unfortunately, child whores that may have what it takes to make it in high society. Halide had been a pick-pocket that Glorfindel had taken in when the child had been only 20 years of age. He had been a bright boy, able to clean your pocket out before you even noticed he was there. Thiol had discovered him and notified Glorfindel, who had promptly taken him in. Now, the boy was a few short years away from his majority, and he was working toward an apprenticeship in the libraries as a Master of Languages. Glorfindel cared greatly for the boy, even if he was occasionally short several gold pieces.

Glorfindel stopped in front of a run down building in the Burrow called the Sweet Honeysuckle, which was really nothing more than a tavern that hosted a brothel in its upper rooms. This particular brothel was known to deal in less than legal arenas, such as drugs and child prostitution. If the child Glorfindel was looking for was to be found here, the boy was in bad shape.

He looked around the smoke-hazed tavern room, letting his eyes adjust to he gloom. Spotting Thiol, Glorfindel made for the back corner table. Settling himself comfortably, the Lord said, “I hope we only met here to enjoy the lovely atmosphere, my friend, and not to pick up a child.”

“Sorry, m’ Lord. ‘Ate t’ tell ya, but the boy works ‘ere.”

“Dammit,” swore the Lord. He had hoped the child would be in better shape. If he was here, there was very little hope he would ever recuperate.

“I called ya as soons I found out ’bout ‘im, m’ Lord.”

“Thank you, Thiol. Tell me about him.”

“Smart little thing, ‘e is. Learned ‘ow to read all by ‘imself, he did.” Glorfindel raised an eyebrow, that really was something. Children of poverty could not attend the schools of Gondolin for the simple reason that they had to work to survive. None had the time to waste in the pursuit of knowledge. For the child to learn to read on his own was a testament to his intelligence. The Lord gestured for the other man to continue. “He’s been ‘ere for a couple years. Where ‘e was before that, I don’ know. He’s a looker, for sure. ‘At’s how ‘e ended up ‘ere. He’s inta that white powder’s been goin’ ‘round, and I’m perty sure he’s pregnant. He‘ll be losen’ that babe ‘ere perty soon at the rate ‘es goin’, I reckon.”

“Ellian then?”

“Aye, m’ Lord.”

“How much powder does he consume a day?”

“A’ least two er three a dem tubes full, m’ Lord.”

“Dammit!”

“Sorry, m’ Lord.”

“It’s not your fault, Thiol. I just wish we had found him earlier. He may die just coming off the drug.” Glorfindel rested his head in his hands. He had received drug addicted children before. It was seen especially in children that had been selling their bodies. It seemed to be a coping mechanism for them. The more an elf consumed of the powder in a day, the harder it was for them to survive withdrawal from it.

“M’ Lord?”

“Hmm?”

“He’s over there.”

Glorfindel looked where Thiol pointed. Coming down the stairs was a scantily clad boy, maybe thirty years of age. Certainly no more than that. His latest customer trailed behind him, still lacing his breeches. The older elf groped the young one’s behind one more time before dropping a smattering of coins in his hand and walking out the door. The boy simply ignored the groping and immediately counted the coins. Satisfied, he started walking around the room, trying to ply his wares. He was thin, pale, and had a long, unwashed shock of raven-black hair. His eyes were sunken and slightly glassy with fever.

Despite all this, he was the most beautiful thing Glorfindel had ever seen. “You were right. He is a remarkable beauty.”

“Aye.”

Glorfindel stood and made his way around rowdy customers to the bar. He summoned the barkeep, who he knew was also the owner of the establishment. “What’ll you ‘ave?”

“I want the boy,” Glorfindel said as he pointed to the darkling elf that was now sitting astride some elf’s lap.

“I charge three coppers for ‘im ta give ya head. Five ta ‘ave ‘im up the arse, and seven ta ‘ave ‘im up the cunt. I’ll ‘ave ya stripped an’ thrown in the street if ya’ take any more ‘n ya pay fer. If ya wan’ anything squicky ya gotta pay extra.”

Glorfindel flinched at the man’s matter of fact tone. It nearly made him sick to hear a child talked of in such a way. “I do not just want to rent him for the night. I would like to buy him from you. How much would you sell him for?”

The barkeep laughed heartily. “I wouldn’ sell the twat fer my life! ‘Es the best whore I got! ‘E brings in more money ‘n the rest of ‘em all put together!”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

The barkeep looked at him skeptically. Glorfindel pulled out the bag of coins and showed the other elf the contents. The Lord knew that the owner more than likely would not make this amount of money in an entire year, let alone off of one boy who would soon be dead.

“He’s yours,” said the greedy barkeep as he snatched the bag out of Glorfindel’s hand. “BOY!” he yelled over the din. The glazed eyes of the child looked up as he removed a small tube from his nostril. He sniffed deeply a few times and walked over the bar.

“Yessir?”

“I jus’ sold your scrawny ass. Ya belong to this bugger ‘ere. Have fun mac.” Glorfindel took the boy’s arm and lead him out of the brothel, waving to Thiol as he exited. The young one looked around disinterestedly, his eyes dilating as the drug took hold.

They made their way out of the Burrow and into the higher class sections of Gondolin, finally reaching the immense mansions of the extremely wealthy. The boy had yet to say anything, and nearly startled a yelp out of Glorfindel when he asked, “You gonna fuck me or what?”

“No child. I am not,” the Lord responded as he guided the stumbling youth into his home.

“Your master gonna fuck me?”

“No one is going to have relations you child, now mind your mouth.”

“Why? ‘M I gonna give someone head?”

Glorfindel sighed. “No, you are not.”

They traversed the large home in silence until Glorfindel opened the doors to his rooms. “You will be staying with me for the time being….I am very sorry, but I do not recall your name…”

The boy looked around the expansive quarters, seemingly pleased. “I don’t have a name.”

“Surely you were called something?”

“They called me whore a lot.”

“I will not call you whore.”

“Slut?”

“No.”

“How ‘bout ‘You boy!’. I got called that a lot.”

“That will have to work for now,” Glorfindel said in a defeated voice. He pulled ‘Boy’ into his bathing chambers and started running a bath. “Get in,” the Lord commanded. Shrugging, the dark child stripped and entered the warm water. Glorfindel started washing the boy, starting with his body which was covered in dirt, blood, and caked on cum. Looking at his body closely, Glorfindel decided the child was more than probably pregnant, or he had worms. He would have the healer examine him in the morning. He gently washed the matted hair, working out the knots. When he was finished, the boy was nearly asleep. He lifted the waif-like body from the cooling waters and dried him. Glorfindel carried the child into his bedroom, laying him upon the cot Halide had set up. Looking down on the delicate, angelical face, he felt a swell of compassion that he rarely felt so soon after taking in a ward. This one was going to be something special…if he could survive.