Of Grief Obscured

Of Grief Obscured

Posted: March 3, 2006
Title: Of Grief Obscured
Author: Ennorwen
Type: FCS
Characters: Glorfindel/Thranduil, Erestor/Glorfindel, Elrond, Cirdan
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: The characters and setting belong to Tolkien and alas to his heirs who do not like to share. I am borrowing them anyway and unlike them do not make a cent off of it.
Timeline: SA 3441 on the battle plain of Dagorlad
Warnings: Explicit brutal sex, but it is NOT non-con.
Beta: Rozzan
Author's Notes: For the purpose of this story I have chosen to apply the second of Tolkien's posits for the return of Glorfindel, that is, he returned to Arda in the second age and was a counselor/captain to Gil-galad. Also, Glorfindel kindly asks that I quit lending him out to others all the time. Erestor snickers, though he quite agrees.

Written for Livejournal's 50 passages challenge, Quote #044: "His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom."

* with apologies to C.S. Lewis
***"...Oropher was slain in the first assault upon Mordor, rushing forward at the head of his most doughty warriors before Gil-galad had given the signal for the advance. Thranduil his son survived..."***

Summary: Thranduil's grief and anger threaten to impair his ability to take his father's place as Elven-king in Greenwood. Glorfindel and Erestor have a plan to help him and Glorfindel volunteers to be the instrument. Not an Evil Thranduil just a raging and grieving one.

*****

"It will destroy him and along with it the realm of his father," said Elrond. "Though his present state is not good for him and we should do something merely for that reason, it is also of vital importance that the realm of Oropher in the Greenwood survives."

The elf-Lord was weary. Weary of war and of mere survival. Weary of mourning. As Gil-galad's designated heir, he was now high king of the elves, and though he had not taken that title had many responsibilities in planning for the post-war future of the elven realms left in Arda. This day he was taking counsel with his two trusted advisors, Glorfindel and Erestor and also Cirdan, the Lord of Mithlond.

"He will speak with no one," answered Glorfindel. "His anger is so great that if he even sees a herald of the remnant of Gil-galad's host he goes to his tent and asks not to be disturbed."

"How can he be angry? It was his father's doing that got two thirds of his army killed. Oropher was proud...and impatient," said Cirdan.

"As is the son," answered Glorfindel, "But a loss such as his is hard to bear for any reason and Thranduil had no desire or plan to succeed his father. He has many responsibilities now. He probably feels overwhelmed."

"That may be true," said Elrond, "But it is not helpful to anyone for him to be so intemperate. There is much to be done and each must do his part. His people need him."

"His anger clouds his judgment. What should be done then?" asked Cirdan.

"I do not know," answered the elf-Lord.

Erestor had been quiet for much of the conversation, as was his way. He had generally found that the best of his counsel had come merely from listening. More often than not, a solution was found by itself with little advice from him and so he sat silently, considering. A thought came to him that he presented to the assembly.

"I do not think it is mere anger," he began. "He is ashamed that his father was impulsive and as a result so many died. He does not wish to face any of Gil-galad's confidants right now. Also, he is grieving..."

"We are all grieving," interjected Elrond. "Is not enough that Ereinion is dead and Elendil also? We all grieve."

"Aye, we do," responded the advisor, "I think he knows himself the shame that he feels, but cannot blame his father. He has never had much love for the Noldor and he finds it simpler to believe that he did no wrong and that it was Gil-galad's fault that so many perished. He will accept no counsel from us, nor will he seek it. In the end, I think his grief begets pride and that is his greater transgression."

"He is proud, if nothing else." replied Cirdan

"Pride is important, in its place, for what leader of elves or men gains respect without it? I can see other things in him though. Despite everything, he is wiser than his father. He loves his people and his land. He will protect it fiercely at need, I think. But if he is too contemptuous and isolated, his realm will not long survive," responded Elrond.

"He must be shown in some way that pride and strength are not one in the same," said Erestor.

"So he must be broken before he can heal?" asked Glorfindel. "Is that what you are saying?"

"In a way, yes," answered the advisor, directing his response to Glorfindel alone.

"It is not dissimilar from our warrior training. My recruits know that we must act as one on the battlefield, for the good of all." said Glorfindel.

"Even so," answered Erestor.

He leaned into Glorfindel and they exchanged knowing looks. Both came to the same conclusion at the same time, and a mutual understanding was struck.

"Even so," he whispered to the golden captain.

"I believe we have come to an agreement, Elrond. If you would but allow us a few days, Glorfindel and I think we have a solution. But we would also ask your confidence be well placed and ask not of our methods."

Sighing, the elf-Lord replied, "In truth, I would be glad to rid it from my mind for a while and would be relieved to have your assistance. We do not have much time though, so badly do we wish to leave these lands and return to our homes."

"We need but a few days," answered Erestor.

The pair retired to Glorfindel's tent where they made further plans.

"So I shall be at my leave to do what must be done? What about repercussions? What if this does not work and Thranduil is further enraged?" asked the elf-Lord.

"Glorfindel. You know this is the right course. You are neither inexperienced nor unskillful. You will do what must needs done and no more," answered Erestor.

"And no more," repeated the advisor.

"Of course no more, Erestor. I only do this for you. I must save your reputation as the sage advisor and once again I will throw my body into the fray," Glorfindel smiled and his eyes sparkled.

"Only for you, melethron."

"What you will not sacrifice for me. I am in your debt. Truly." Erestor replied suggestively.

Glorfindel laughed out loud, saying, "I will be sure to collect on that debt. Truly."

He growled at his darkling lover and together they went to bed, plans made and bargains sealed. They made love languidly, each assuring the other through touch and surrender that what was to come would not sunder their bond and they rested intertwined and serenely for the rest of the night.

The next day found many elves and men decamping and returning joyfully to their homes. Cirdan's group would leave the next day and soon after Lorien's and the Greenwood's contingents would follow. As is the wont of a field general, Elrond would be among the last to leave, just as he had been among the first to arrive.

Glorfindel paced restlessly as he readied himself for the confrontation with Thranduil. He would go to the Elven-king's tent that afternoon and dressed not in clean tunic and leggings but had chosen to wear the clothes he had worn during the last fight, save for the armor. He thought it might remind Thranduil that none were unmarked by what had occurred.

Erestor helped him, offering his usual encouragement and reassuring Glorfindel that they had made the right choice. At last Glorfindel pronounced himself ready and prepared to take his leave.

"I am more than confident in your abilities, meleth-nin. You will know what to do when you have assessed the situation. You always do." said Erestor.

Laughing the golden warrior replied, "I am glad you have faith in me, my dear Erestor. I will go and try to convince Thranduil to see reason. I will come to you directly upon my return. Until later, then."

Glorfindel stealthily made his way toward the camp of the wood-elves. His clothing had made him all but invisible and he had tucked back his hair so that none would mark his passing. Successfully negotiating his way through the myriad tents he came to the entrance to Thranduil's. Looking right and left and assuring himself that he was alone, he entered, unannounced.

Thranduil had heard the rustling of the fabric and looked up. He had been sitting and contemplating all that had happened and held in his fingers an arrow with Oropher's mark. Glorfindel pulled the hair out of his tunic and confronted Thranduil fully, wanting the Elven-king to know who it was that he faced.

"Why do you sully my tent with your presence?" asked Thranduil. "Have not you and your kind done enough? Be gone. I have no wish for your company."

"You have need of my company, and you will listen to all I have to say," replied Glorfindel.

Throwing the arrow into the corner, an enraged Thranduil quickly responded,

"I have no reason to listen to you, nor shall I."

Moving toward the Elven-king, Glorfindel reached out his hand to grasp the hair of the Sinda, to force his eyes to meet his. But Thranduil wrested away from him and turned his back.

"I told you to leave. This is my province and I am sovereign here. I am no kin-slayer, but I will hurt you. Now go."

"No," answered Glorfindel as he once again advanced on the Elven-king. He wrapped his arms around Thranduil's shoulders from the back and kissed him on the cheek thinking to gentle him with a gesture of true tenderness, but the Sinda would not have it and as Glorfindel had expected, it seemed to enrage the Elven-king further.

Thranduil turned on him and grasped a handful of golden hair. He became as a cornered badger, wildly feral and lashing out.

"How dare you come here to tame me with your feigned affections?" he spat out, "I have had enough of your ilk toying with me and my people as so much battle fodder. I will not have it."

Thranduil replayed in his mind the charge that had led to his father's death and it became fixed in his mind and for a moment all he could envision were fallen elves and Oropher dead on the battle plain. He needed to punish someone for this folly and here was one of Gilgalad's captains presenting himself as a friend. For the moment all he could see were the red fires of Mordor flashing in front of his eyes. He would make them pay. All of them, in their time.

He turned on Glorfindel then and in his anger, shoved the golden elf nearly half way across the interior of the tent until a table at the back of Glorfindel's legs stopped their progress. Glorfindel closed his eyes, willing himself not to strike back. He knew he could take the Sinda in fight, but that was not his purpose. He had thought it would be he who would take the Elven-king, to humble him with loving, but this turn of the tide did not frighten him and he checked himself internally while he waited to see what Thranduil would do next.

"If so-called love between the elves is what you have to give me, then I will take it." growled the wood-elf and he turned Glorfindel around roughly, facing the table.

Bending over Glorfindel's back, Thranduil grabbed a handful of golden hair and pulled it harshly to the side.

"Listen well. It is you who will submit. You who will be broken, you and all your Noldor pride."

He held one of Glorfindel's arms twisted at his back and he roughly grabbed at his tunic, drawing it as far up as he needed. He grasped the waistband of the Noldo's leggings and quickly had them pulled down to mid-thigh, reaching for the oil lamp on the table when he had him positioned. Opening his own lacings, he cursorily wet his burgeoning erection with some of the oil, but not much. He wanted the Noldo to feel him, to hurt as he hurt. To feel the full wrath that had overtaken his grief.

Without any preparation and in one brutal stroke, Thranduil entered him. Glorfindel closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath, allowing himself to be taken. If this was what needs be done he would do it and felt for a moment as he had in Gondolin, if not happy to sacrifice himself then at least fully aware of it. He regulated his breathing and let Thranduil have his way.

So angry and full of pride was the Elven-king that he had even forgotten who it was that he was filling and he began thrusting ruthlessly, each stroke full and deep into the chasm that grasped him. His hands held on to the flesh of Glorfindel's hips so tightly they made marks and the table rocked with each savage plunge.

It was painful to his unprepared opening, but Glorfindel bore it, taking Thranduil's rage and grief into himself and if the hard flesh glanced the small gland he did not feel it, only the rhythmic slapping of flesh hitting flesh. Though he had hardened under the onslaught, Glorfindel was loathe to release himself under such circumstance. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, holding fast to the edge of the table above his arms. With hopes of stemming the tide of his climax, he pressed his groin to the hard surface beneath him, catching the base of his sex at the table's edge. Tears came into his eyes as he pressed further and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit down on his lower lip. I wish to come only for my lover was the thought in his mind as he held on tight.

It did not take long for the King to come to his peak, and with a great roar, he shoved himself as far in as he could and released himself deep into Glorfindel's passage. Breathing heavily he fell onto Glorfindel's back and closing his eyes rocked into him.

He continued rocking until his breathing turned to low pitched moans and his eyes welled with tears. He felt the salty liquid course down his cheeks and then finally gave into it, great sobs overtaking his body as he clung to Glorfindel's back.

Gently he withdrew and then separating himself from the golden elf, stepped a pace backward. The leggings about his knees impeded his progress and in frustration and sorrow, he fell to the floor, his body racked with keening, his breath coming in great heaves.

Glorfindel quickly pulled the leggings back over hips and knelt down beside the broken elf, encircling him with his arms and holding him as the cries turned to soft mewling whimpers. Now the tears were fully of grief and Glorfindel let him release it, knowing full well that this had been his purpose all along, to turn the anger back to what it truly was.

He stroked the Sinda's hair, saying nothing as Thranduil poured out his pain and Thranduil let him, receiving in full measure the comfort that the returned elf provided him. As the sobs wound down he began shaking and then to stammer out his apologies.

"I am sorry, Glorfindel. I do not know what overtook me. I have never, would never..."

"I know," answered the golden warrior, "I know. Do not trouble yourself over this."

"My father. My Adar......"

"It is well, Thranduil. We have all suffered such loss and it has been so long that we have been in these poisonous lands. Think of how it will be to return to the Greenwood again. To be among the forest and people you love."

"But I....."

"You will rule wisely and well, Thranduil. We are not your enemy. And we will offer all of the support you may need, if you would take it."

Thranduil awkwardly grabbed for the leggings down at his knees and as he stood up, Glorfindel helped him, securing the lacings at the waist. He accepted Glorfindel's assistance and with a new determination took him in a firm embrace.

"I do not truly believe all that I said. Please forgive me. You came to offer your hand and I treated you brutally in return. You, of all elves in Arda, who have known war and sorrow beyond measure."

"Aye, I have known it. I know it now. We have all lost so much. But we can only look forward, Thranduil. We must."

"Aye," answered the Elven-king. "Aye."

"Will you meet with the rest of us to discuss the future? With the ring extant, none of us has protection from the evils of this world and we must work together to ensure our continued survival. Will you talk with Elrond?"

"Ai, I have been selfish," answered Thranduil. "He is an elf with many burdens, especially now. I will speak with him."

"You are an elf with many burdens, Thranduil. Both of you now take up mantles you never sought. Believe me when I tell you that he feels as you do, responsibility weighing heavily about his shoulders. He would that none of this had ever happened, that his King had not died. Do you know that he will not take up the title?"

Thranduil laughed then, surprising Glorfindel with this turn of emotion.

"A Noldo that will not take up a title freely bestowed? Unheard of. Well, he is not full Noldor in any case. I suppose I should take counsel with him and the others, though there is much to be done in the Greenwood now and I bear the sole responsibility for it."

Glorfindel had thought to love him gently then, to take him in his arms and show him that he was not only accepted, but held in great affection by the Wise among the elves, but he saw no need for it. Thranduil had come to his own understanding in his own way and Glorfindel was satisfied that the task he was sent to complete had been done. Thranduil had broken, but by his own doing. Glorfindel was, in the end, only a receptacle for the Sinda's rage and the instrument for the beginning of his healing. It was all that they had sought.

"I will tell Elrond that you will come to him this evening. Do not worry about your reception; you are after all the last Elven-king in Arda. You will do what is right for your people and the Wise will expect no more."

"Lle Hannon, Glorfindel. Tell him I will come," answered Thranduil.

"We need not speak of what happened here Thranduil. Elrond will not know of it from my lips. Until later then." Bowing slightly, Glorfindel took his leave.

Once he had left Thranduil's tent he walked gingerly, adding this to the already long list of battle wounds, small and large that he had suffered over the years. He had not foreseen that the tables would turn in such a way, but was nonetheless glad for the outcome. As he had promised he went directly to Erestor, his thoughts racing on how he would make the dark advisor pay for his pains.

When the warrior opened the tent flap, Erestor looked up, noting the dishevelment of the Elf-lord and smiled wryly.

"So you have done the deed? Your golden touch has tamed the raging lion?"

"Aye, it is done," answered Glorfindel, wincing a little as he sat next to his lover, "But not in the way that we expected."

"What do you mean?"

"Erestor, the Sinda took me! With little preparation and with all the anger and grief in his heart. But he is becalmed and will take counsel with Elrond this very night. So our purpose has been fulfilled."

"Ai, Glorfindel, I did not expect that. I am sorry. Are you well?"

"Nay Erestor, I am not well. I am sore and aching and it will be a while before you can make love to me. Hah! Maybe that is the payback," said Glorfindel, "You will be denied my services for the next while!"

"Oh my golden one, shall I soothe you? Shall I put salve on your wounds?"

"You would like that would you not? Well, yes, later you will salve my wounds and much more, but now we should go to Elrond and tell him that the King will attend on him this night."

Erestor agreed and the pair made their way to Elrond's tent where they informed the Elf-lord of Thranduil's change of heart. Glorfindel spoke telling Elrond that the Sinda's anger had been tempered and that he would take counsel with him.

"But how?" asked Elrond, and then shaking his head, added, "Nevermind. I probably do not wish to know. But I am grateful Glorfindel, we all are grateful that you have made the Sinda see reason. There is hope for the elven realms yet and particularly for that of the Greenwood."

"I think he can be a great King, Elrond. It was his anger over such a loss that clouded his judgment. But now he has seen that anger does not hold sway and it has now turned to mourning. His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom."

"As it sadly does," answered Elrond. He exhaled a long breath, relieved that his counselors had helped him to solve this problem.

"Thank you, Glorfindel. And Erestor. Once again you have proved yourselves worthy of the great confidence I have in you. I am blessed by your presence at my side."

"It was Glorfindel who bore the King's wrath. The credit is his alone" said Erestor.

"But it was your idea, counselor," said Glorfindel archly, "And you who should bear the full responsibility for it."

"You two can argue over the credit yourselves. I have to prepare for the arrival of the Elven-king. Go and eat the evening meal. I will see you later."

The pair walked out of the tent together and Glorfindel took Erestor's arm, none too gently, leading him back to his own tent.

"You will take responsibility for this, my dear melethron. And I will begin to collect on my debt even now. Come with me."

"And I will soothe your wounds, melethron. Yes."

Once inside, Glorfindel kissed Erestor roughly, holding him tightly and then playfully pulling at the long curtain of raven dark hair.

"I think you should save the salve for yourself, my darkling love. I promise you will need it whence I have finished collecting on my debt."

"Truly?" asked Erestor, smiling.

"Truly." answered Glorfindel.

They missed the evening meal that night, as they would many others, and in contentment they slept, pleased that they had served their lord well and blissfully wrapped in each other's arms.

*****

The italized portion or the parts shown between *** and *** in plain text is a direct quote from Unfinished Tales, by J.R.R. Tolkien, Part Two, IV: The History of Galadriel and Celeborn, Appendix B: The Sindarin Princes of the Silvan Elves.

All elvish words are Sindarin and taken either from David Salo's A Gateway to Sindarin (The University of Utah Press, 2004) or from Tolkien himself.

*****

THE END

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