Longing for Salvation
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Category:
-Multi-Age › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
888
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
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.
Longing for Salvation
… written for LiveJournal’s 50passages challenge.
Title: Longing for Salvation
Fandom: J.R.R. Tolkien - The Peredhil
Characters: Elladan / OC
Prompt: # 002 (“I am not the master of the law, and cannot set it aside”)
Word Count: 1596
Rating: R
Summary: With eyes like amethysts, a phantom from the past revisits one of our beloved Peredhil… within the confines of the soaring Tower of Ecthelion.
Disclaimers: Tolkien is the consummate artist and Middle Earth is his chef d’oeuvre. I hold his work in highest regard and as such would not presume to unlawfully use his literary creations for profit. I am only borrowing from his imagination… for the pleasure of expounding on his already established genius.
Author’s notes: Part of the Elrond/Eressë story arc.
Minas Tirith, Third Age
Coirë, Year 3019
The view from the White Tower was undeniably breathtaking. From such a vantage position, one could enjoy the panorama as far as the eye could see. Only it wasn’t as pleasurable when the scenery was one of destruction. Even less so when burdened with the knowledge that one had helped bring the city to ruins. And oh! much worse when so shameful a reminder was inflicted thusly. Incarcerated in the Tower of Ecthelion… indeed! Do they not have dungeons in this century? Pacing across his unfurnished quarters, the captive tried to forget the reason for his imprisonment, cursing the Peredhel’s audacity. I’d rather be amongst the remaining dead on the battlefield!
His thoughts were disrupted by a humorless voice. “I would’ve accustomed myself to the Halls of Mandos… except for maybe the cold. Strangely enough, despite my being part Edain, ever have I been more susceptible to bitter temperatures.”
Elladan.
The man stood still, his breathing having temporarily ceased with the sudden arrival of so unexpected a visitor. He almost appeared dead on the surface. Yet, beneath his manifested calm demeanour, he was in fact burning from a raging turmoil. So my past has finally come back to haunt me. He should have anticipated this; should have known it wouldn’t have ended with that brief encounter on the Pelennor Fields. It couldn’t have. Nevertheless, he had dared hope. A fool’s hope –seemingly unheeded as befitting an unworthy traitor such as himself.
“Why?”
The question was presented quite matter-of-factly, but it gave him rather a shaky feeling in the knees. “Why?” he echoed. Swallowing, so as to moisten his mouth suddenly gone dry, he considered his response. The Breath of Life… he knows! What else has he discovered since that fateful day? Bearing in mind his present predicament and improbable future, he could afford little else but the truth. As it was, he owed Elladan that much sincerity in light of so many past lies. Not so. There were never lies between us. Only avoided truths.
“You still had an important part to play in this ongoing war; your death would’ve been in vain.”
He could feel Elladan’s proximity as he ventured further into the room. There was no mistaking that familiar vibe… that distinctive scent. Moreover, he could easily picture those intense eyes and feigned nonchalance as the Half-elf delivered his next query.
“Is that all?”
Too deep. Stubborn Peredhel is delving too deep. I can’t do this. He’s looking for answers I am unwilling to give him. I cannot bear it.
“Mîradan…”
He remembers! ‘Twas his birth name, given to him by his mother. Hardly anyone still living knew about it; his friends had forever known him as Aiden –a diminutive form of the original name, first used a long time ago. It had stuck because of its fitting significance -fiery one.
The whispered plea was his undoing. “Do not ask anymore of me”. Turning, he finally faced his tormentor, laying bare his mounting anxiety and visible distress. “Please.”
Elladan seemed to falter as some unfathomable emotion stole over him for a moment, only to be replaced by a blank mask as he took purposeful steps in the man’s direction. Noting the look on Aiden’s face as he drew back, he stopped abruptly and briefly stared at him before answering. When he did, his voice held an edge of bitterness. “You shy away from me. Do you fear me then? I am no ghost…” His eyes darkened to the deep bluish-gray color of slate, burning with incrimination. “You made sure of that.”
“You are upset,” Aiden remarked casually, bemused by so glacial a manner. Taking a deep, quivering breath to suppress the increasingly rapid pounding of his heart, he could almost feel the other’s disdain as his battered body was slowly taken into consideration, each injury eliciting either a frown or a dispassionate sigh from the appraiser. He knew what the Peredhel was thinking, having endured the stark reality of his newfound frailty on more than one occasion. Though he could not understand the source of such undisguised anger.
“So I am,” Elladan replied dryly. “Your sacrifice was too great; you should’ve left me a corpse.”
Aiden choked, speechless with outrage. How dare he? It *had* been a sacrifice, albeit one he had willingly made for the elder Prince of Imladris. And never regretted. “Perhaps I’ll do just that next time.”
This was met with a mocking smile. “Ah, but there won’t be a next time, will there? You’ve already relinquished your immortality, what have you left to dispense… your soul?” The last words were spoken quietly, with an underlying tone that mingled indignation and yearning.
The man reeled from the verbal blow, averting his gaze so as not to betray the hurt caused by the veracity behind the jeering utterance. Too late. Elladan had seen what was hidden in those bejewelled depths.
“Foolish man.” All too quickly, he crossed the distance between them and reaching out, he roughly pulled Aiden to him, sealing their lips in a savage kiss. Desperation seemed to fuel his ardour as he brutally shoved the man against the stone wall and proceeded to thoroughly ravish his mouth repeatedly.
Aiden thought he would surely drown from the onslaught as repressed memories washed over him in a torrential surge. Days of glorious abandon… nights of unleashed passion… a friendship forged in secret… dreams of togetherness for what lay ahead…
All of it shattered by an unforeseen revelation.
Struggling to find his wits, the man summoned all possible resolve and pushed against the heated bulk, ending their brief interlude. He shook his head slightly as though to clear a buzzing in his ears; he was in deadly earnest now, speaking with a hint of hopelessness. “We cannot do this. This path is forsaken to us; the blood which flows through my veins would prove this union a farce and lead towards naught but anguish and resentment.”
Breathless, Elladan stood frozen before him, face white as bone, eyes laced with pain. “I’ve thought of little else but ebony and amethysts since first we met. You haunt my dreams maethoren vain,” he said fervently. “Almost five centuries of silence… never knowing what happened to you following the battle on the plains of Calenardhon. Forever wondering if you even lived! Why melethron? Why did you forsake me? What of *us*?”
Whirling past his former lover in frustration, Aiden slammed his fist against the wooden door before leaning against it, all the while shouting. “They are my people, Elladan! Would you have me forsake *them*? My mother is long dead. I never knew her. The Balchoth are all I have; they are my family.” His shoulders slumped in apparent resignation. “They are all I know,” he added, as though to himself.
Elladan loomed closely behind him, his breath tickling the man’s neck, sending unbidden shivers down his spine. He edged closer still, both arms trapping Aiden in a cage of virile flesh. “Yet you cannot claim your blood tainted with foulness such as theirs,” he said cautiously. “Do not play me the fool; I know whence you come. The Breath of Life… only one race is bestowed such a gift. You are part faerie.” Deftly removing the accustomed head scarf, he buried his fingers into the sable tresses, relishing the silky feel against his calloused skin. As he pulled back a wavy lock and gently tucked it to unveil an ear, he lightly traced its pointy tip. “As for the other half of you, despite your attempt to hide it, *we* are also your people.”
Turning his face away from the other’s touch, Aiden shook his head, as if in denial. “You need not remind me of my own duality. My course had always been clear –‘til I met you. My purpose as a servant of the Dark Lord was deeply rooted, ingrained since I was but a babe. And then you showed me light. Through you, I recognized that much of what I knew had been falsities. But I couldn’t just leave. Not then. You must understand.”
“And now?”
He was trembling, and a sheen of tears was visible in his eyes. “It is too late for me. There will be no atonement. I will stand trial for my wrongdoings and pay with my very life if seen fit.”
“If only there was a way to set you free… but I am not master of the law, and cannot set it aside”. The Elf-man sounded almost desperate.
Extracting himself from the intimate embrace, Aiden fought to hold his feelings in check. “Nor would I have you do so. Let it go, Elladan. It ends here, now. Do not torment yourself further. Should I leave Gondor, it would be with but one purpose in mind -that of appeasing my conscience. As such, one last foul deed I must still perform.” A rap at the door was heard, accompanied by a few mumbled words. Their time was expended. Aiden allowed himself one last, lingering look at the dark beauty, before moving back to the window on the far side of the makeshift cell. Staring blankly into the distance of the open fields, he felt the emptiness encroach upon his cursed heart. “*If* I leave Gondor, it is unlikely that I will ever return.”
As the Gondorian sentry opened the door to allow Elladan passage, the twin paused to quietly demand, “From whom do you seek salvation?”
Avoiding the searching gaze, so fraught with meaning, the fae elf – raised as a man – murmured his reply. “From myself.”
Elvish translations:
Coirë – Stirring (Quenya) = Elvish season that lay between modern February 11th and April 5th
Edain – man
Peredhel – half elven
Maethoren vain – my beautiful warrior (borrowed this one from you Min! Hope it’s ok… thanks!)
Melethron – male lover
***Mïradan – Aiden’s birth name, given to him by his mother Eressë before she died; ‘tis an Elvish name, in remembrance of the child’s sire. Knowing he would likely be raised by men, its choosing was deliberate for its meaning: jewel (mîr) of men (adan)
Title: Longing for Salvation
Fandom: J.R.R. Tolkien - The Peredhil
Characters: Elladan / OC
Prompt: # 002 (“I am not the master of the law, and cannot set it aside”)
Word Count: 1596
Rating: R
Summary: With eyes like amethysts, a phantom from the past revisits one of our beloved Peredhil… within the confines of the soaring Tower of Ecthelion.
Disclaimers: Tolkien is the consummate artist and Middle Earth is his chef d’oeuvre. I hold his work in highest regard and as such would not presume to unlawfully use his literary creations for profit. I am only borrowing from his imagination… for the pleasure of expounding on his already established genius.
Author’s notes: Part of the Elrond/Eressë story arc.
Minas Tirith, Third Age
Coirë, Year 3019
The view from the White Tower was undeniably breathtaking. From such a vantage position, one could enjoy the panorama as far as the eye could see. Only it wasn’t as pleasurable when the scenery was one of destruction. Even less so when burdened with the knowledge that one had helped bring the city to ruins. And oh! much worse when so shameful a reminder was inflicted thusly. Incarcerated in the Tower of Ecthelion… indeed! Do they not have dungeons in this century? Pacing across his unfurnished quarters, the captive tried to forget the reason for his imprisonment, cursing the Peredhel’s audacity. I’d rather be amongst the remaining dead on the battlefield!
His thoughts were disrupted by a humorless voice. “I would’ve accustomed myself to the Halls of Mandos… except for maybe the cold. Strangely enough, despite my being part Edain, ever have I been more susceptible to bitter temperatures.”
Elladan.
The man stood still, his breathing having temporarily ceased with the sudden arrival of so unexpected a visitor. He almost appeared dead on the surface. Yet, beneath his manifested calm demeanour, he was in fact burning from a raging turmoil. So my past has finally come back to haunt me. He should have anticipated this; should have known it wouldn’t have ended with that brief encounter on the Pelennor Fields. It couldn’t have. Nevertheless, he had dared hope. A fool’s hope –seemingly unheeded as befitting an unworthy traitor such as himself.
“Why?”
The question was presented quite matter-of-factly, but it gave him rather a shaky feeling in the knees. “Why?” he echoed. Swallowing, so as to moisten his mouth suddenly gone dry, he considered his response. The Breath of Life… he knows! What else has he discovered since that fateful day? Bearing in mind his present predicament and improbable future, he could afford little else but the truth. As it was, he owed Elladan that much sincerity in light of so many past lies. Not so. There were never lies between us. Only avoided truths.
“You still had an important part to play in this ongoing war; your death would’ve been in vain.”
He could feel Elladan’s proximity as he ventured further into the room. There was no mistaking that familiar vibe… that distinctive scent. Moreover, he could easily picture those intense eyes and feigned nonchalance as the Half-elf delivered his next query.
“Is that all?”
Too deep. Stubborn Peredhel is delving too deep. I can’t do this. He’s looking for answers I am unwilling to give him. I cannot bear it.
“Mîradan…”
He remembers! ‘Twas his birth name, given to him by his mother. Hardly anyone still living knew about it; his friends had forever known him as Aiden –a diminutive form of the original name, first used a long time ago. It had stuck because of its fitting significance -fiery one.
The whispered plea was his undoing. “Do not ask anymore of me”. Turning, he finally faced his tormentor, laying bare his mounting anxiety and visible distress. “Please.”
Elladan seemed to falter as some unfathomable emotion stole over him for a moment, only to be replaced by a blank mask as he took purposeful steps in the man’s direction. Noting the look on Aiden’s face as he drew back, he stopped abruptly and briefly stared at him before answering. When he did, his voice held an edge of bitterness. “You shy away from me. Do you fear me then? I am no ghost…” His eyes darkened to the deep bluish-gray color of slate, burning with incrimination. “You made sure of that.”
“You are upset,” Aiden remarked casually, bemused by so glacial a manner. Taking a deep, quivering breath to suppress the increasingly rapid pounding of his heart, he could almost feel the other’s disdain as his battered body was slowly taken into consideration, each injury eliciting either a frown or a dispassionate sigh from the appraiser. He knew what the Peredhel was thinking, having endured the stark reality of his newfound frailty on more than one occasion. Though he could not understand the source of such undisguised anger.
“So I am,” Elladan replied dryly. “Your sacrifice was too great; you should’ve left me a corpse.”
Aiden choked, speechless with outrage. How dare he? It *had* been a sacrifice, albeit one he had willingly made for the elder Prince of Imladris. And never regretted. “Perhaps I’ll do just that next time.”
This was met with a mocking smile. “Ah, but there won’t be a next time, will there? You’ve already relinquished your immortality, what have you left to dispense… your soul?” The last words were spoken quietly, with an underlying tone that mingled indignation and yearning.
The man reeled from the verbal blow, averting his gaze so as not to betray the hurt caused by the veracity behind the jeering utterance. Too late. Elladan had seen what was hidden in those bejewelled depths.
“Foolish man.” All too quickly, he crossed the distance between them and reaching out, he roughly pulled Aiden to him, sealing their lips in a savage kiss. Desperation seemed to fuel his ardour as he brutally shoved the man against the stone wall and proceeded to thoroughly ravish his mouth repeatedly.
Aiden thought he would surely drown from the onslaught as repressed memories washed over him in a torrential surge. Days of glorious abandon… nights of unleashed passion… a friendship forged in secret… dreams of togetherness for what lay ahead…
All of it shattered by an unforeseen revelation.
Struggling to find his wits, the man summoned all possible resolve and pushed against the heated bulk, ending their brief interlude. He shook his head slightly as though to clear a buzzing in his ears; he was in deadly earnest now, speaking with a hint of hopelessness. “We cannot do this. This path is forsaken to us; the blood which flows through my veins would prove this union a farce and lead towards naught but anguish and resentment.”
Breathless, Elladan stood frozen before him, face white as bone, eyes laced with pain. “I’ve thought of little else but ebony and amethysts since first we met. You haunt my dreams maethoren vain,” he said fervently. “Almost five centuries of silence… never knowing what happened to you following the battle on the plains of Calenardhon. Forever wondering if you even lived! Why melethron? Why did you forsake me? What of *us*?”
Whirling past his former lover in frustration, Aiden slammed his fist against the wooden door before leaning against it, all the while shouting. “They are my people, Elladan! Would you have me forsake *them*? My mother is long dead. I never knew her. The Balchoth are all I have; they are my family.” His shoulders slumped in apparent resignation. “They are all I know,” he added, as though to himself.
Elladan loomed closely behind him, his breath tickling the man’s neck, sending unbidden shivers down his spine. He edged closer still, both arms trapping Aiden in a cage of virile flesh. “Yet you cannot claim your blood tainted with foulness such as theirs,” he said cautiously. “Do not play me the fool; I know whence you come. The Breath of Life… only one race is bestowed such a gift. You are part faerie.” Deftly removing the accustomed head scarf, he buried his fingers into the sable tresses, relishing the silky feel against his calloused skin. As he pulled back a wavy lock and gently tucked it to unveil an ear, he lightly traced its pointy tip. “As for the other half of you, despite your attempt to hide it, *we* are also your people.”
Turning his face away from the other’s touch, Aiden shook his head, as if in denial. “You need not remind me of my own duality. My course had always been clear –‘til I met you. My purpose as a servant of the Dark Lord was deeply rooted, ingrained since I was but a babe. And then you showed me light. Through you, I recognized that much of what I knew had been falsities. But I couldn’t just leave. Not then. You must understand.”
“And now?”
He was trembling, and a sheen of tears was visible in his eyes. “It is too late for me. There will be no atonement. I will stand trial for my wrongdoings and pay with my very life if seen fit.”
“If only there was a way to set you free… but I am not master of the law, and cannot set it aside”. The Elf-man sounded almost desperate.
Extracting himself from the intimate embrace, Aiden fought to hold his feelings in check. “Nor would I have you do so. Let it go, Elladan. It ends here, now. Do not torment yourself further. Should I leave Gondor, it would be with but one purpose in mind -that of appeasing my conscience. As such, one last foul deed I must still perform.” A rap at the door was heard, accompanied by a few mumbled words. Their time was expended. Aiden allowed himself one last, lingering look at the dark beauty, before moving back to the window on the far side of the makeshift cell. Staring blankly into the distance of the open fields, he felt the emptiness encroach upon his cursed heart. “*If* I leave Gondor, it is unlikely that I will ever return.”
As the Gondorian sentry opened the door to allow Elladan passage, the twin paused to quietly demand, “From whom do you seek salvation?”
Avoiding the searching gaze, so fraught with meaning, the fae elf – raised as a man – murmured his reply. “From myself.”
Elvish translations:
Coirë – Stirring (Quenya) = Elvish season that lay between modern February 11th and April 5th
Edain – man
Peredhel – half elven
Maethoren vain – my beautiful warrior (borrowed this one from you Min! Hope it’s ok… thanks!)
Melethron – male lover
***Mïradan – Aiden’s birth name, given to him by his mother Eressë before she died; ‘tis an Elvish name, in remembrance of the child’s sire. Knowing he would likely be raised by men, its choosing was deliberate for its meaning: jewel (mîr) of men (adan)