Cinderestor

Cinderestor

Posted: January 27, 2006
Title: Cinderestor
Author: Lynsey
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Do not sue, all I got are college loans, and this isn't helping to pay them off.
Warnings: Slash (male elf loving male elf), murderous thoughts, non-consensual sex (rape)
Beta: Juzamdjinn
Author's Notes: I watch too much Disney. So sue me. Try reading this chapter to the song "Absence of Fear" by Jewel. The lyrics, I feel, are highly appropriate.

Summary: A dark!Cinderella inspired story featuring Erestor and Glorfindel.

*****

Erestor cracked his eyes open as the first light of dawn poured through the windows of the kitchen. He sat up stiffly, the cold stone of the fireplace making him sore. It never seemed to matter how hot the fire was, the stones were always cold, and they seemed to suck all the warmth from his body while he slept wrapped in his tattered, dirty blanket. He wiped at the cinders that had settled on his face during the night. He knew they left black marks across his skin, but he could care less. He was already filthy; a few more dirt smudges did not make so much difference.

He folded the blanket and put it in what he termed ‘his’ corner. There he stored all of his earthly possessions, in the little corner between the wall and the fireplace. His most precious items were hidden in that same corner, only they were under a loose stone that lifted up from the fireplace hearth. He had discovered the hiding place as a small child, and he still used it today. Otherwise he would have nothing left.

He stoked the fire so he could start breakfast. As the water was heating over the flames, he went out and fed the animals. Chickens, hogs, horses, cow. The same routine every morning. By the time he was done, the water was hot enough to make the porridge.

Quickly, he finished breakfast and loaded up the trays. He picked up the first tray and went to the master bedroom of the quaint little house. Once again, routine took over. He set the tray on the bedside table, opened the curtains, and took out the chamber pot all while the occupant of the room remained fast asleep. Erestor gazed down at the ellith sleeping in the large bed, and once again thought how easy it would be to pick up one of those soft, fluffy pillows and lay it over her face. And press down. And keep pressing. It would be so easy….he shook his head and continued his routine. He took the next tray to a smaller room and went through the same motions.

Erestor took the last tray and went to the next largest room in the house. He stopped at the door and shuddered as he hesitated. Maybe today he would be spared. Sometimes the occupant of this room remained completely asleep the entire time Erestor was there, Erestor just needed to be absolutely silent. He opened the door, only to immediately close it again as an object was flung forcefully at the door. He shuddered as he realized that this morning he would have no reprieve. Erestor cracked open the door once more. No more projectiles forthcoming, he entered the room and approached the bed.

He set the tray on the bedside table and went to open the curtains, only to be stopped by a vice grip on his wrist. He closed his eyes and took a deep, shivering breath.

“Morning, beautiful,” muttered a slurred voice from the bed.

“Good morning, Master Celairion,” Erestor whispered softly. “I trust you slept well?”

“Mmmmm…” the hand gripping Erestor pulled him forcefully onto the bed. The dark elf squeezed his eyes shut and tensed as a much larger body than his own rolled on top of him and pressed him down into the mattress. Rough hands rubbed up and down his body, strong legs pinned his legs to the bed. A tear made its way down his cheek as teeth sank into his neck, adding to an already extensive collection of bites and bruises he sported there. He hissed as already abused skin was torn once again. Maybe today, he could cut a leaf off the aloe plant in the foyer without anyone noticing…the juice from the leaves would help sooth the raw pain of the battered skin.

As his dirty pants were pried from his legs, Erestor thought about the rest of his routine for the day. Thinking about the comfort of his chores helped take his mind off of what was happening elsewhere. As pain ripped through him, he thought about doing laundry. Scrub, rinse. Scrub, rinse. Safe. Uncomplicated. Scrub, rinse.

Unsatisfied with the reactions he was pulling out of the elf beneath him, the larger elf became more violent. Erestor whimpered, putting up a token struggle to satisfy his master. The increased roughness made it impossible to take his mind off of what was happening just by thinking about his chores. The only image that could comfort him at times like these was the image of an elf he had once known as child. However, he no longer imagined the elf as an elfling, instead he saw the fierce warrior the elfling had become. A warrior with golden hair and gleaming sword. Someday, he fantasized, the handsome warrior would come to save him. He would strike down all those who had harmed Erestor, would take him into his arms and kiss him lovingly….

The body above him finally grunted and rolled over.

Erestor pulled himself out of the now soiled bed and shrugged into his tattered pants again. He would have to change the sheets in here today. He limped slightly as he went to open the curtains. As he picked up the chamber pot, the voice of his nightmares addressed him again.

“Naneth will be taking Glaweth and I to the market today. I want my horse saddled by the time we return, so I can leave for the courts as soon as I get back.”

“Yes, Master.”

Erestor scurried from the room as fast as he could. Today had been easy. At least he could walk, albeit a little painfully, as he left the room.

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The trio of mother, daughter, and son finally gone, Erestor went about doing the rest of the housework. He cleaned up the dishes from breakfast, after taking whatever leftovers there were and putting them in a bowl. He ate hungrily from the bowl, licking up every scrap he could get. He always ate fast. He never knew when he would be interrupted, or if he would be allowed to finish if he dawdled.

Done with that particular task, he went to the front yard to weed the flower garden before the heat of the day began to scorch the earth. As he was bent over scrabbling in the dirt, a throat cleared behind him. Erestor jumped a foot in the air as he was startled. He quickly stood, and without looking at the intruder, he bowed. It was always best to bow, as everyone he met was probably above his station.

He looked up timidly at the dark haired elf before him, a messenger of the House of the Golden flower by the insignia on his robes.

“An invitation,” the messenger stated as he handed over the rolled parchment to the pitiful elf in front of him. His lip curled in distain at Erestor’s appearance. “Please see that the head of the house receives it.”

“Of course, my lord,” Erestor said as he bowed his head.

The messenger left, and Erestor took the parchment into the house, carefully unrolling it. He knew how to read…or at least he knew enough to understand what the parchment said.

To The Head of the House of the Circling Raven,

All eligible ellith and ellon over the age of majority are invited to a masked ball to be held in honor of Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower and his induction as a full Lord of the Courts. Lord Glorfindel will also be searching for a suitable mate. Either gender will be accepted as possible candidates. The ball will be held in seven days time. Please respond with the number of people to be attending….

And the parchment read on.

Erestor rolled the invitation and quietly stared into space. He had once been tentative friends with the golden haired lord. That is, before his life became nothing more than a living hell. They had gone to school together for a short time, and Erestor clearly remembered the charismatic elfling that was the self-appointed protector of all those weaker than himself. Oh, how he remembered. The image of Glorfindel had comforted Erestor through some very dark times, this morning’s incident flashed across his mind. Would Glorfindel even remember him if he saw him today? Erestor looked at his image in the hallway mirror. No. Glorfindel would never recognize this pathetic excuse for an elf. He was a waif, a slave, a nothing. He had been ever since his father had died. He had been ever since his father’s second wife had taken over the household.

Placing the parchment on the entryway table, Erestor made his way into the kitchen to begin supper. The Mistress had demanded roast beef for supper, and in order for it to be done on time, he would have to start it now.

As he stood at the table slicing the beef, he started daydreaming. A warm embrace, the feeling of being absolutely safe, words of love whispered into his ear…a sharp pain in his finger.

He absently stuck his finger in his mouth as it began to bleed. He sighed. At least his Mistress had not caught him daydreaming, for the punishment would have been much worse than a nicked finger.

*****

The lady of the house smiled in triumph as she read through the parchment. “It seems the Golden Lord has finally broken down and decided to take a mate!!” She regarded her two children as they lounged on sofas in the den. Erestor was in the process of serving drinks. “It will be a fight to the finish, my beautiful children. However, I believe that we have a more than fair chance at seducing the Lord of the Flower.”

“Overly confident as always, Mother,” drawled Celairion.

“No, my handsome son.” The Lady dropped down on an overstuffed chair and looked over the parchment again. “You and your sister are simply two of the most beautiful elves in the kingdom.”

“And we play dirty,” stated Glaweth, with a small, fake sounding giggle. Everything Glaweth said sounded fake, or at least Erestor thought so.

“If either of you can lay the Golden Lord before any other, we will be able to blackmail him into marrying you. Do you think you can accomplish this?”

“Of course. The blond twit has the brains of a sparrow. It will be child’s play to seduce him.”

“Only if you get to him before I do, my brother.”

Celairion nodded in acknowledgment.

Erestor sighed as he left the room to fetch dinner. He had to admit, the two young elves had a more than fair appearance. It had driven more than one Lord to distraction, and, in affect, had driven more than one lord to empty his pockets to keep Celairion and Glaweth quiet about their liaisons. As he returned to the den carrying a loaded tray, he realized someone had joined the party. He set the tray down and listened carefully as he started serving the meal. His step-mother’s informant from the House of the Golden Flower was currently gossiping with the Lady about his newest findings.

“…and he seems to prefer ellon to ellith,” said the elf as he took a cup of tea from Erestor.

“Hmmm….” mused the Lady. “It seems you have a better chance at the Lord than we had thought, my son.” Celairion smiled, Glaweth pouted. “What else?”

“He prefers his prospects quiet, yet well-spoken. He likes them to be chaste in public, yet fiery behind closed doors. He also prefers brunettes, small in stature.”

The Lady scowled as she looked at her blond-haired, robust son. Celairion raised an eyebrow. “You cannot blame *me* for my hair color or my size, mother.”

“I will blame you for whatever I like,” she snapped. As Erestor handed the Lady a plate of food, she grabbed his hair and pulled him down beside her. “If only he had your coloring, whelp,” she commented as she pulled at some of his greasy, raven tresses none too gently. She took the plate from Erestor’s hands and pushed him away. The four kept up a steady stream of dialog while Erestor finished serving. The darkling elf retreated to the kitchens as fast as he could, preferring the quiet crackle of the fire to the incessant chatter.

Erestor sat on one of the wooden chairs and stared out the window. Seeing a shooting star cross the heavens, he hastily made a wish.

*I wish that I could go to the ball. I wish that Glorfindel would choose me. I would be anything he wanted me to be. I would do anything he wanted me to do. Anything is better than here. Maybe…someday…he could even love me…as much as I love him…*

*****

Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower stood on his balcony overlooking the city while the light of the rising sun gleamed over the rooftops. Tonight would be the night of the masked ball to be held in his honor. Tonight would be the night he chose an elf to court and eventually take to mate.

He sighed and moved into his luxurious bedroom. He lay down on a bed made up with soft, lavish blankets and silken sheets. He lay back, imagining soft, dark hair the color of a raven’s wing. The black tresses glinting with the darkest of blue highlights. Eyes the color of rich cinnamon gazed at him through a fringe of coal-dark eyelashes. Slender of frame, softly spoken was the ellon he saw in his mind.

The golden lord slowly reached to unlace his leggings, and he pulled out his stiffening erection. Every night since his majority he had been having dreams. Dreams of the dark ellon that set his blood to boiling and his heart to breaking. One of these dreams had awoken him this very night, bringing him no sleep.

The dream would start out with him as a child, playing with one of his childhood friends. His friend had been so quiet, so much smaller than the other elflings. He had also been a good deal more intelligent than any of them. The darkling elf had been teased mercilessly until Glorfindel had taken him as a friend. Then one day, his companion had stopped coming to school, and no question asked of his parents had drawn a satisfactory answer. At the time, he had been too young to understand the worth of knowing another elf’s House, and so he had never bothered to learn the title of his friend’s House. Now, as an adult, he had no idea where to start looking for any information about his friend.

As the dream would progress, he would see his friend grow into a lovely young elf. His heart would take a plunging leap every time he would see the beautiful elf smile or laugh. Oh, how he missed this elf! What he would give to see this sweet being again!

He finally came, shouting the name of his long-lost friend.

“Erestor!”

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The Vala of Dreams smiled as he watched Glorfindel in his bed chamber. Their plans were nearly complete.

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Erestor watched as the carriage containing his step-family rolled out of sight. He silently sat on the stone step of the hearth, watching the fire. He leaned up against the rough stones of the fireplace and tucked his knees up to his chest. He had watched Celairion dress this night, and he knew for a fact that even the Valar themselves would have a hard time resisting the golden haired beauty. Glorfindel would probably fall head-over-heels for him.

Despite his best efforts, he released a strangled sob. He had hungered and dreamed and wished for so long that he hoped that, just maybe, this time one of his wishes would come true. But as he had watched the carriage roll away, he had known that he would never be allowed to have happiness.

He slowly stood and walked to sink of dishes, intending to get them finished before he slept this night. With tears still running down his face he plunged his hands into the water, only to quickly draw his left hand back up as one of his fingers was cut by a knife laying hidden under the bubbles. He grasped the knife in his right hand and brought it up out of the water.

He watched as the red of his blood dripped down into the suds in the basin.

He watched the glimmer of the fire-light play on the silver blade.

Gradually, he brought the blade to his throat.

He closed his eyes.

Drew in a deep breath.

“I would not do that if I were you.”

Erestor spun around, dropping the knife in the process. He stared.

“It would create quite the mess, I’m sure. Besides, we have better things to do this night.”

Erestor quickly backed up into a corner. “Wh…Who…Who are you?” he demanded in a quavering voice.

“Me?” asked the scraggly, bearded old man sitting at the kitchen table. “Why, my name is Mithrandir, young one. I‘m you‘re Godfather. Your Adar and I were very good friends.”

“What do you want?” Erestor’s voice was a little firmer now, but it lacked any real threat and held a large amount of suspicion. His hands shook violently, and small shudders wracked his wasted frame.

The old man smiled gently. “I want you to go to the ball.”

Erestor let out a disbelieving laugh before he had a chance to think about his response. “You want me…*ME*…to go to the ball. What am I to wear? The potato sack? At least it wouldn’t have any holes in it!”

Again, Mithrandir smiled. He slowly pulled his cloak to the side and revealed a tightly bundled, black object. As he unfurled it, Erestor gasped. It was a robe of deepest black velvet. Patterns depicting the raven of his House were set into it with black silk, and it was lined in a dark blue to match the highlights in his hair. Entranced, Erestor forgot his fright and walked toward the garment. He reached out hesitantly to touch it, as if it might bite. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured.

“And you will look beautiful wearing it.”

Erestor smiled. A small, watery smile, but it was a smile none the less. An expression that had been absent from his face for far too many years. “But…” he gestured at the marks covering his neck, and his skinny, wasted appearance.

“The robe is cut to hide the markings upon your body, and it will hide how thin you are.”

Erestor’s smile became a little brighter.

The old man’s eyes twinkled in good spirit. “Now, let’s get you ready for the ball.”

*****

As he mounted the stairs to enter the House of the Golden Flower, Erestor remembered Gandalf’s warnings, “Remember, Erestor. You must return before your step-family does, or else they will know you were absent.” The dark beauty once more smoothed the fabric of his robe, and fingered the locket about his neck. The locket had been his mother’s, and one of the few items he had hidden in his special spot beside the fireplace. Inside, it contained a miniature portrait of both his father and his mother. Erestor looked the most like his mother…a spitting image actually. All except coloring. While his mother had hair the color of an evening sunset, his father had gifted Erestor with the raven dark tresses he sported.

Erestor reached the top of the steps, and he nodded to the guards at the door. One guard raised an appreciative eyebrow. He entered the doors into the foyer, and he was met by a servant.

“This way,” gestured the elf. He lead Erestor down a long corridor to a set of gilded double doors which were open wide. Erestor was dumbstruck by the sheer opulence of what he saw. Gloriously clad elves whirled around a parquet dance floor, and, standing near the door greeting the arriving guests, was Glorfindel. The Lord was dressed as a golden eagle, and he had never seemed more majestic to Erestor.

Erestor’s hand went to his face to ensure that the mask that covered the upper part of his face was made out of black silk and raven feathers was still in place. He stepped forward with a hesitant smile on his face, and immediately blanched when he realized who was hanging on Glorfindel’s arm. Celairion, looking as stunning as the sun he was dressed as, seemingly held all of Glorfindel’s attention. Erestor’s forward motion halted, and he nearly turned to flee, but Glorfindel’s cerulean eyes raised and met Erestor’s cinnamon brown orbs.

Everything seemed to melt away as Glorfindel gazed at those eyes, eyes that had haunted his dreams for more years than he cared to count. Forgetting the blond bimbo attached to his side, Glorfindel moved forward and grasped a slender, shaking hand in his. He bowed low over that hand, his eyes ever holding the chocolate gaze. He pressed a light kiss to the back of Erestor’s hand and stood. “Would you like to dance?” he asked the vision in black satin, unaware of the evil glare Celairion was bestowing upon the couple.

“Of course, my Lord,” Erestor said quietly. Glorfindel gently took Erestor’s arm, guiding him out onto the dance floor.

Erestor hardly knew what to do. He was whirled around the floor amidst flowing gowns and sparkling robes as he was drowned in the blue regard of Glorfindel’s eyes. After several songs, Glorfindel whirled Erestor onto an empty balcony. There, he drew the dark elf close, much closer than proper etiquette demanded. He tucked the raven head under his chin and held the thin body tight to his.

“You are so small,” whispered Glorfindel, the first words he had spoken since he had asked Erestor to dance.

Erestor merely nodded. As Glorfindel continued to sway with him in his arms, Erestor managed to glance into the ballroom. He made a sound of alarm as he saw Celairion and his family leave through the double doors.

The dark elf pulled away in a near panic, fear of Celairion and the Lady‘s anger if he was not home when they arrived overrode any thinking on Erestor‘s part. “I…I have to go!” Erestor escaped the protective embrace of Glorfindel’s arms. Glorfindel made a grab for the smaller elf, but instead he caught hold of the locket around Erestor’s neck and it broke free as Erestor twisted. Erestor ran as soon as he was free, bolting around party goers as fast as he could.

“Wait! Wait, please!” cried Glorfindel. He tried to fight his way through the massed elves, but he was inundated with proposals as soon as others realized he was alone.

Glorfindel fought his way through crowd, eventually making it to the doors. He ran down the hallways and outside his home, looking in vain for a glimpse of black hair or robes. Seeing none, he sat dejectedly on the stairs looking at the locket he had clasped in his hands. He opened it, looking at the miniatures inside. Nothing on the locket denoted the elf’s house or his name. “I did not even ask his name. How could I be so stupid?”

“Glorfindel?” The golden lord turned at the sound of his father’s voice. “What has happened.”

“I met the elf of my dreams, and I let him get away. I do not even know his name. All I have is this,” Glorfindel handed his father the locket.

The other lord looked at the locket critically. “I do not know these elves, but someone may. We will search Gondolin, going door to door if we have to. Someone must know who these elves are, and that may lead us to your elf.”

Glorfindel stood and embraced his father. “Thank you, Ada. Thank you.”

“We will start our search in the morning.”

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Erestor ran as fast as his feet would carry him, but nearly collapsed as he neared his home. To many years of undernourishment and beatings did not make for a healthy elf. He entered the stables first, hastily removing the robes and his mask. He pulled on his dirty, torn clothing as fast as he could, and bolted to the house. There were no lights showing in the windows. Was he safe? Had he arrived before his family?

He slowly opened the back door and stepped inside, only to be grabbed by the hair and flung to the ground. A flint sounded and light flared as a candle was lit. Erestor looked up from his position on the floor, fearful of what was to come.

“Where have you been, beautiful one?” Celairion asked.

Erestor bowed low to the ground, cowering in front of the elf and his mother, who sat at the kitchen table. “I was tending the animals,” he said in a quivering voice.

The Lady stood and grasped Erestor’s hair. “Since when did you need to have clean and braided hair to tend the animals?”

Erestor cursed himself. He had forgotten that his hair had been cleaned and braided by Gandalf before he had left. “I….I’m sorry my Lady. I…just wanted to be clean,” he finished lamely.

“This pretty hair looks awfully familiar,” Celairion remarked, reaching out to fiddle with a thin braid. “I seem to remember a dark haired elf at a certain ball with his hair done just like this. If I remember right, he usurped a certain Lord of the Golden Flower for the entire evening.” Erestor paled and felt dizzy as his heart threatened to stop from fear.

“Teach our little darkling what it means to misbehave in such a manner, Celairion. I am going to sleep.” The Lady made for the door, but turned her head for a last remark, “Remember to gag him. I do not wish to be awakened by the screams.”

“Yes, Mother.”

*****

For weeks, Glorfindel and his father went door to door looking for any word of the two elves in the miniature portraits. As yet, they had no leads. As the sun set, the procession from the House of the Golden Flower made their way to the last house on their list, The House of the Circling Raven. Glorfindel had wanted to avoid the house as long as possible as he was not eager to be proposed to by Celairion again. However, they were running out of options, and now had no choice. The party dismounted in front of the cozy little manor and announced their presence. The Lady of the House answered the door and gestured for them to enter. That the Lady of the House answered the door and not a servant surprised Glorfindel, but he was not one to question the workings of a house not his own.

As they settled in the sitting room accompanied by the Lady‘s daughter, Glorfindel recovered the locket from his pocket. “I come to ask you a favor,” the young Lord stated. “Inside this locket, there are two portraits of elves that are unknown to all. I would like to know if you recognize either of them.”

The Lady grasped the locket and opened it. Her carefully schooled expression revealed nothing as she looked upon the face of her deceased husband and his first wife. “I do not know if I have ever seen these elves before. However, I will go ask my son if he has a notion of who they may be. I will retrieve him and return shortly.”

Some minutes passed and the Lady did not return. Glorfindel asked Glaweth where the bathroom was to be found, and left the flirting maid to make her way through his escort. He entered the appropriate room, and he simply sat on a chair in front of a vanity with his head in his hands. He felt frustrated, helpless. This was his last hope, and it seemed to be just as worthless as all the others. As he sat there, he heard a small, fluttering sound. Intrigued, he raised his head and cocked it to the side, listening intently. There it was again. A sound like a whimper. Soft and quiet, as if the creature making it did not wish to be heard but was in too much pain to suppress the sound. Determining where the sound came from, Glorfindel headed out of the bathroom and went to the door leading into the room he swore he heard the whimpering from. Feeling only a faint pang of conscience for trespassing, Glorfindel entered the room.

It looked to be a bedchamber. From the sword and daggers hung on the walls, he judged it to be Celairion’s. The sound came again, and Glorfindel zeroed in on the closet. He felt a twinge of sickening fear as he approached the door. The entire room stunk of fear, blood, and urine.

The soft cry came again. Whatever was making that sound was hurt badly. Hesitantly he opened the door and looked at the floor. Huddled on the floor in a bloody bundle of soiled rags was what may have been an elf. Glorfindel knelt on the floor and pulled the bundle around until he could see its face. He was nearly sickened by what he saw.

One side of the elf’s face was destroyed, the eye missing. It looked like the elf had used his own hair to try to bandage his face. The eyelid fluttered on the eye that was still intact, and it finally opened as wide as it could considering it was swollen from repeated beatings. Glorfindel’s heart stopped as he stared into the chocolate gaze he had been longing for his whole life.

“Is it really you?” whimpered a voice that was thick with despair and agony as the broken jaw worked. “Or has Irmo granted me this last, sweet dream before I am taken to the Halls?”

“It is I,” Glorfindel whispered. “I have finally found you, my sweet one.” Erestor tried to smile, but the effect was ruined as he cried out in pain as his battered face moved. Glorfindel pulled the assaulted form to his chest, wincing as he felt broken bones grating against one another. He lifted Erestor as carefully as he could, cradling him to his chest. “I have dreamt of you since we were but children. Your face has haunted my thoughts,” the Lord admitted.

Erestor’s eye darkened in sorrow. “My…face…”

“I care not, lovely one. If I wanted only beauty, I would have chosen Celairion. Your soul has called to mine since we first met.”

Tears made their way down their faces, and Glorfindel leaned in to taste lips that were cracked and bloody. The brushing of lips was gentle, almost chaste. Glorfindel had never tasted anything sweeter.

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“We are leaving. Now.” Glorfindel swept into the room carrying a bloodied bundle of rags that reeked of bodily fluids.

“My Lord?” questioned the Lady as she stood from her chair.

“You, my Lady,” Glorfindel sneered, “will find yourself imprisoned in the lowest cells of the darkest dungeons on Arda for this.”

“What…oh, no,” the Lady whispered as she realized what Glorfindel held in his arms.

Celairion stepped forward in front of his mother. “That worthless piece of filth belongs to *us*. We have the right to do whatever we please with him! He is our property!”

“NO ELF IS THE PROPERTY OF ANOTHER!!” Glorfindel bellowed, startling all in the room. “Guards! Take them!”

The Lord exited the room, leaving his guard to deal with the three elves in question.

*****

Erestor once again stood in front of the double doors leading into the ballroom of the House of the Golden Flower. In an echo of past gestures, he fidgeted with his mask to make sure it was till in place over the scarred half of his face. He drew in a shaky breath, nervous for the coming ceremony.

Today was his bonding day.

The trumpet sounded, signaling his entrance. Erestor bolstered his courage with a crooked smile to his Godfather, Gandalf. The old man smiled back, his eyes twinkling madly. Together they moved down the aisle way to where Glorfindel stood at the dais. Erestor passed many rows of elves, most of which he did not know. However, they all smiled encouragingly at him giving Erestor’s faltering steps renewed strength. He cringed slightly as he approached the front row, not because of Glorfindel’s parents who loved the dark elf dearly, but because of the scowls he received from the bound and gagged trio that had once been his step-family. Erestor had insisted that they be present for his bonding, and despite his nerves, he was determined to have his revenge however simple it was.

Glorfindel reached his hand out and caught Erestor’s, gently pulling the smaller elf towards him for a kiss he could not resist. Several elves in the audience laughed at Glorfindel’s eagerness, and many a maiden shed a tear at the love they saw between the two elves upon the dais.

Glorfindel finally released Erestor and the two elves turned to face Gandalf, who was also officiating. He started the ceremony, binding Erestor and Glorfindel’s hands with braided cords of black and gold. Looking into each other’s eyes, the two lovers barely noticed the pomp and circumstance going on around them. They repeated their vows without really noticing what they were saying, only registering the deep affection in the other’s eyes. They finally came to the present when Gandalf said the final words of the ceremony, “May the Valar bless this union.”

Glorfindel once again pulled Erestor close for an excited kiss, but a warm breeze whipping around hair, clothes and banners startled him from his mission.

“The Valar do indeed bless this union,” came a voice made of milk and honey from the center of the aisle. Heads snapped around to face the vision in sky blue silk that commanded the attention of the entire room. Slowly the figure came forward to stand in front of the newly bound couple, and he clasped his long, perfect fingers over the bound hands of Glorfindel and Erestor.

Gandalf smiled hugely, and stepped back. “Welcome, Lord Irmo.”

Irmo nodded in acknowledgement of Gandalf’s greeting.

“You have proven that your love can overcome even the most…” the Lord paused briefly and lifted a hand to touch Erestor’s mask, “…painful of obstacles. To honor your commitment to each other, we have decided to grant you one wish.”

Glorfindel opened his mouth, but he was silenced by a look from Erestor. The dark elf settled his one-eyed brown gaze on his step-family, still glaring daggers in his direction.

“I do not want to waste this chance on simple vanity,” Erestor told Glorfindel, who also reached up to touch the mask. “If you would allow it, my love, I would ask that my family be allowed to truly understand what it is they did to me.” Irmo frowned slightly, but Erestor continued, “I do not want revenge. I just want them to understand that what they did was wrong. I want them to understand, and I want them to change. I do not know how that would be accomplished, but that is what I desire.”

Glorfindel considered the request. “I would allow this, my sweet.” He reached over their bound hands to place a gentle kiss on petal soft lips.

Irmo nodded once, and released the hands he held. He turned to the trio of elves in the front row, none of which seemed the least bit repentant.

A blink was all it took for a second figure as ethereal as the first to appear.

“Brother Namo,” greeted Irmo.

The Vala of Death nodded in greeting, and he descended the short steps to stand in front of the now doomed elves. “You have been slated for judgment, and your deeds have proven you….less than desirable.” He paused and ran a pale hand over the hair of a now quivering Celairion. “You will find your redemption in my Halls, but only after much anguish on your parts.” With those words, Namo gestured to the air.

A flock of ravens appeared through the open balcony windows, swarming the three elves in front of the Vala. Not a lock of hair nor a stitch of cloth could be seen through the thick curtain of black wings. No screams were released from the bound elves as they had been gagged, and the pool of blood slowly spreading across the floor only seemed that much for ghastly for it. As suddenly as the ravens appeared they scattered, leaving nothing more than a cooling crimson pool on the marble floor of the ballroom.

Glorfindel held Erestor’s trembling form close as they looked on, wishing that he could spare his new husband this sight.

The last of the ravens disappeared, and Namo turned to Erestor. “It is done. They will find redemption in my Halls.” Erestor simply nodded shakily.

The two Vala left in another warm breeze, and the elves in the room stood silently for several moments.

“Well,” commented Gandalf. “I think we should retire to the gardens for a little party, eh?”

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Erestor and Glorfindel lay front to front on Glorfindel’s luxurious bed. Tonight would be the first night they shared anything more than a passionate kiss or gentle caress. Hesitantly, they unclothed each other. Trembling hands smoothed over quivering skin. Unsure moans and stuttering gasps filled the air.

“Glorfindel,” Erestor moaned as the Lord massaged his buttocks. Slowly, the blond rolled until Erestor lay on top of him. Erestor look at him in confusion.

“I want you to be the one in charge. I could not bare to harm you in any way.”

“Oh…” a tear traced its way down the dark elf’s cheek and he smiled warmly. Erestor’s hand grasped the sweet oil that was laying on the coverlet. He poured a stream of the cool liquid down Glorfindel’s straining erection and smoothed it over the satiny skin. Glorfindel anxiously tried to remain as still as possible, wanting his husband to be in control over every aspect of their first time together.

The Lord strained his legs to part them for Erestor. However, Erestor did not move to sit between the parted thighs, instead, he remained seated on Glorfindel’s lap. The dark elf smiled in a sultry manner, lifted himself up, and impaled himself on Glorfindel’s cock.

Glorfindel’s hands slammed onto the bed and twisted into the sheets. The tight squeeze of Erestor’s unprepared passage made him scream in pleasure.

“Oh, oh, fuck Erestor!” Glorfindel opened his eyes to look into the darkened chocolate of Erestor’s remaining eye. The smaller elf smiled in triumph.

“Did I surprise you?” he gasped as he started to ride his husband.

Glorfindel stopped the gyrating elf above him with a gentle grip on his hips. “I am not hurting you, am I?” he asked concernedly.

“Nay, my love. I spent most of my life as a private whore for Celairion. Nothing you could do would harm me.” He traced the line of Glorfindel’s lips and smiled happily.

The golden elf reached up and pulled the raven head down for a passionate kiss. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on,” the Lord whispered into Erestor’s ear after he released the bruised lips.

Tears ran down both their faces as they rocked together, finally finding peace within each other’s arms.

*****

THE END

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