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Too Much
Disclaimer: this installment is for the sole purpose of entertainment both the author and the readers.
I do not intent to make money of it, so please don't sue me.
All characters unless noted otherwise are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien.
It's Tolkien's fault. Had he given us more female Elves to work on....
As it is we must deal with what we have - not that we care. :-))
Rating: R/NC-17
Summary: In the wake of Elrond's council solitary Erestor finds a new love ....and an old one returns unexpectedly.
Slight SM, lots of drama and some sex. Be warned and prepared...
Author's note: this is the result of an RPG, so not solely written by me but by Lady Phoenix as well.
Archieve: as long as we know: yes.
Feedback: YESSSSSS! It keeps us going!
Pairing: Erestor/Lindir, Erestor/OMC
Lindir watched his lovers ride away and fought against tears. He felt silly crying. It was an indulgence, a weakness that he wanted to shy away from. //There have been enough tears. They will come home,// he assured himself, arms wrapping around his slender form protectively. Lindir knew that finding sleep would be difficult without the safety of his lovers' embrace to warm him.
Ivorcheneb had spent an hour in the vast library, but he had to realize that without knowledge of the place he would never find those books he was looking for. So instead he had strolled over to the barracks and mingled with the elves there.
He had found some who were willing to share what they knew, especially because Ivor was so openly flirtatious. When Arien rose again, he had collected enough information to start working on another tale worth telling. It did not really surprise him that nobody had been able to provide him with anything interesting about Erestor that went beyond the obvious.
Besides it gave him reason not to settle in his room. As an elf who had grown up with the wandering folk, rooms made him feel constricted and usually the feeling of walls around him made him nervous, close to panic.
Most Sindarin elves had problems with caverns and it was a myth to him how the elves in Mirkwood could live in those caves, no matter how beautiful they might look from the inside. Ivor preferred a talan or - if naught else was available - a hammock.
He was not tired - like most elves he could go for days without rest, and the Bruinen was glittering invitingly in the early morning light, so he decided for a detour and took a refreshing bath in the cold river.
When he finally reached the main house, hair still dripping, his whole damp form steaming in the cold air, he spotted a forlorn figure on the terrace whom Ivor easily identified as Lindir. He climbed the few broad stairs with light steps.
"Greetings, Lord Lindir!" // so they have gone already. What a shame to leave this one so forlorn so early after the bonding!// not showing any of his slight grudge on the outside, he merrily continued: "Did you already break the fast this morning? I am so hungry I could devour a warg in whole, but alas! Nobody cared to show me to the kitchen and the soldier's food is not my taste." Ivor bowed theatrically with great grace to greet the young Lord-by-marriage.
Dearly thankful for the interruption, Lindir smiled. "Nay, I have not yet eaten, and I would much enjoy sharing the meal." Lindir smiled warmly at Ivor, and some of the cold loneliness seemed to fade from his eyes. "I should think soldier's fare would be of little interest--even to them. We shall find something more appetizing in the kitchens, I am sure." As they walked, Lindir ventured, "And how has your stay been this far, my friend?"
"let's say - interesting. I spent the night gathering gossip which - as an entertainer - is part of what I do. Collect gossip, transform it into stories worth telling. Or not. Depends on the matter. It seems Imladris will offer quite an enrichment to my repertoire." in his mind he had already started to transform fragments of information into storylines.
Once in the kitchens, Ivor and Lindir gathered what they needed for a simple but good breakfast, then Ivor insisted they would eat outside in the sun. "In case you are up to something bitter-sweet, I could provide you with a story certainly unheard of." he offered while he poured them steaming hot tea.
"I should love to hear the tale," Lindir agreed. While his own abilities were held in limbo, the elf certainly liked the thought of at least being able to share stories yet, to hear tales spun. "Share with me what you have learned in these halls." Certainly there were stories enough floating around Imladris, especially since the arrival of the ring and the departure of the Fellowship.
"Well, this one, although untold, is a very old one." Ivor made himself more comfortable and ushered Lindir to eat some more. Not only did he greatly enjoy the company of the minstrel, he had been asked to care for him and who knew - maybe even some small reward would wait for him in the end? Not that it mattered to him. His needs were sparse. "But you must forgive me that it is not yet smoothly flowing for it is still in the process of reshaping. Yet I feel it is worth telling even in a raw form."
"Long before we were born, even before the Valar came for a last battle to Middle-Earth and changed it, this story starts: It was at the beginning of the First Age, when the sun rose for the first time in the skies, that an elf was born to the Sindar in Beleriand.
"He grew up to be a strong, brave warrior like so many others. By the time he was only 75 he was already a full-fledged soldier - times were different then, and elves who today would not be fully counted among the adults would have had already spent years in battle.
"'Twas there that he met an older elf. A Noldo who did not want to serve any of his Noldorin Lords for he begrudged Feanor that they had been left behind on the shores of the Undying Lands after the terrible Kinslaying. Instead he and a few others had decided to fight among their Sindarin brothers.
"Slowly our hero and the Noldo got to know each other and after a while they shared their beds and later then their hearts. The Sinda soon understood that this elf was his true soul-mate." Ivorcheneb sipped his tea and took a bite of white cheese before he continued.
"We all hope to find such but 'tis only rarely granted. These two now were lucky and so they bound themselves to each other. Those who knew them said they were the luckiest elves in all camps.
"Then the Nirnaeth came. The lovers had always fought side-by-side but in the terrible carnage of that battle they were separated and when the Sindar fell, bleeding from countless wounds, almost dying, he did not know where his beloved was or if he was still alive at all.
"As we all know the survivors that escaped slavery retreated to Gondolin. Little is known about a small group that escaped to the royal halls. Among them was our dear hero. He was mad with grief and all he wanted was to follow his mate to the halls of waiting. Yet his comrades fought for him to stay and so, eventually he resigned and healed - slowly for the luster of life had left him.
"Never again did he take another lover, living with the dear memory of the one and only elf he had ever loved. His life was very lonely thereafter." Ivor stopped. The story moved him. The idea of being truly alone forever, bereft of one's beloved was indeed a painful one.
Lindir listened, rapt, to the gentle rise and fall of Ivor's voice, the reverence with which he spoke of the pain and the love and the loss. True, the story lacked the polish and poetry he knew would accompany later tellings, but somehow Lindir almost preferred the bare, clean form of its present state. "Ah, but did he never find love again?" he pressed. The tale seemed dreadfully unfinished, too lonely for the hope that lingered behind the words.
Ivor snapped out of his private thoughts. "Well, that was impossible. So the First Age passed, the Second came and went, even the third started, without light, without hope. And still the brave warrior fought evil - 'twas all he knew. Only the ghost of his beloved was by his side. There was no warmth, no comfort for him.
"And then, like a ghost out of the mists of time, lo! His husband appeared. A mere vision it was or so he thought. For how could that be true? His husband had perished in the Nirnaeth. But the elf was real, and when our hero approached him at dusk, his heart was overjoyed for it was indeed his long-lost husband." Ivor smiled. He could imagine what such a reunion would have been like. "The tale could end here. Maybe it should have. But there are no straight paths on Arda any longer and so the joy was soon turned into bitter disappointment:" Ivor sighed heavily.
"He learned that the other had newly loved, had even proposed to bond to another and so his heart seemed to break once again with despair. He wondered why fate was so cruel as to reunite them only to let him find his love was lost forever.
"Imagine how painful this revelation must have been to him! What a vicious blow it must have been to be granted only a glimpse at what once had been, to reach out incredulously only to find his fragile new hope ridiculed and cruelly shattered. Nobody deserves such fate... Everybody would have understood had he insisted on his elder rights, even if he had driven the competitor away under threat of his sword." Ivor blinked away a tear. Aye, this tale deserved to be told! Everybody would have acted that way.
//A story I know well, then,// Lindir realized with a faint smile. He enjoyed hearing Ivor's words, the culmination of what he had heard from others and gathered together. Indeed Lindir had found little time for considering what Daerdion might have felt. //It must have been killing him to think that he found Erestor only to lose him once more...// "And what then happened to this poor soul? Did he take his place at his lover's side?" Lindir urged, eager to hear more of Ivor's gentle telling of their story.
"Aye - but not with the help of the blade:" Ivor smiled. "Our warrior was a very noble elf and he loved his husband too deeply to separate him from that newly-found happiness, feeling certain that the other would not have survived such separation. Instead he preferred to share his beloved's heart because that elf's happiness counted more to him than anything else in this world ever would.
"Luckily, when he met the object of his husband's newly awakened desires, he was instantaneously drawn to him: so sweet and beautiful was that young Sinda, such light shone from him that he fell for the young one - something he himself had not held possible. In the end the two ancient ones found their love was by far strong enough to include the young one, to embrace him fully in their company and so they challenged the Valar, boldly facing the danger and forged a new bond between the three of them, so that none was left behind, alone, unloved. - You know how this story ends, don't you, Lindir?" Ivor smiled warmly. He loved the happy end of that particular tale!
"Aye... happily ever after if I have anything to say about it." The elf laughed quietly and reached across to give Ivor's hand a warm squeeze. "Thank you. 'Tis beautiful. If this is the way you tell it before even truly preparing, I can only imagine how lovely the words will sound polished. I should very much like to hear it then as well."
"Thank you." Ivor inclined his head. "I was having an interesting conversation with Lord Daerdion last night and I thought he should be heard anyway. I think he fully deserves so - even among kings you rarely find a more generous character." Ivor downed the rest of his cooled tea.
"I find it amazing though, that nobody can or will provide any information about the Lord Councilor. After all there are several facets to this story and I would like to tell it properly. But maybe you can at least delight me with your point of view?" Ivor leant forward, eager to listen to that untold part of this amazing love-triangle.
"Erestor... he is quiet. He does not share easily of himself. It is not long since we first truly spoke. He had watched me sing whenever he could get away from his duties. I could always feel his gaze, the warmth of it... the heat..." Lindir smiled faintly. "I desired him, but I did not realize that he desired me. He gave no sign of it. And then... we began to speak, to share with one another.
"I was wounded, and it drew us closer. I feared at first that Erestor pitied me, but I knew soon enough it was not true. He is not a man of pity. He simply cared, wished to help me through my illness." The bard smiled. "He is a kind man, intelligent... Erestor is more than most give him credit for."
"I would think so. Lord Daerdion does not seem to be somebody to give his heart away to some shallow person." it seemed funny that Ivor had the closet contact with the warrior he deemed the most dangerous of the triple! "Although... although I know one very much like your dark husband." after a moment he decided to tell Lindir: "It seems that Lord Erestor's brother saved my life: I was but a toddler in a nutshell that did not deserve to be called a boat, alone, with the seagulls already waiting to peck at my eyes."
Not seeing a reason to dwell on his past and not thinking that Torang would be of any interest, Ivor ventured "How did you meet him, then? And what drew you toward such a private elf? The mystery?" he brushed his long hair back with a slender hand.
"Honestly, I have more trouble in seeing how anyone could fail to be drawn to him. He is beautiful, strong, kind..." Lindir blushed faintly. "He is all that I have ever sought in a lover or friend. We met indeed much as we met you. I was singing, and Erestor would watch. We spoke at times, but rarely... I wonder if it were not for my wound if we ever would have spoken our hears to one another." The bard shook his head. "I suppose that there is indeed reason in all things..."
"Why, of course!" Ivor assured. "If that were not so, how would we go on, immortal as we are? We would only harvest sorrows and despair in the end. Erestor had to meet Daer prior to binding himself to you, because else Daerdion would have died, unbeknownst to his husband. And they had to be separated so that Erestor could fall in love with you. It all makes sense. The irony is that we can only say so looking back. In the here and now we must hope to understand the plot someday in the future. Vaire weaves our fate in an ever-changing tapestry." Ivor smiled. He had complete trust in the Valar, would never doubt their omnipotency.
"Hopefully one day I can look back in happiness and understand all that had happened." he mused with a dreamy look in his silverly eyes.
"Perhaps you shall, my friend." Lindir liked his new companion, the magician's dreamy nature and wistful sighs. It reminded him strongly of himself, helped him to remember what he was healing for. "Soon I shall sing you a song to repay the story that you have told, I promise. In the meanwhile, I am afraid my company is all the payment I can offer, and it is rather a meager gift at present."
"Ai, as I told your husband already, that is no burden! I admit that I would like to do more that look at you and talk to you, but you are safe - I am not suicidal!" he laughed merrily. Lindir had made his position clear once and Ivor was not one to press on others. After all there were always many elves who would welcome him for a night or two in their beds.
"Yet, I must beg to differ, Lindir. For your company is in no way disappointing! It is more likely to stoke severe fits of regret that I came here too late. They could have married you later." he pouted, then paused for a moment, drinking in the beauty of the vale that unfolded in front of him. //unbelievable the Torang never came here! 'Tis so wonderful here - even more than I have been told.//
"You are lucky to live here, Lindir, in this beautiful sheltered place. Will you show me the waterfalls? I have heard so much about their beauty and brilliance." he stood and offered Lindir his hand.
"But of course! And certainly nothing you have heard could truly compare to them," Lindir added. He led his newest companion outside, holding the other elf's hand tight in his own. There was nothing romantic in the gesture, after all. A simple gesture of friendship, of closeness.
~~~
"I shall show you where it had happened." Erestor said to Daer as they rode towards the ford. "Although it has been weeks since and I doubt we shall find any traces of him."
Daerdion nodded. "It seems rather unlikely... though it cannot hurt to see." Just like his lover, Daer kept his attention focused on the task at hand. Much as he wished to be in the new home they were building together, he knew that delaying their work would only make the time gone longer. "And there was no warning of his presence? No sign before he fired?"
Erestor sighed. "Admittedly, I would like to think that he truly appeared out of thin air..." that had been his impression, still was whenever he thought back.
"Yet, I was distracted. I was probably paying more attention to Lindir and our conversation than was advisable. I had not spoken my heart by then and was afraid to say something that mighty betray my feelings." he had lost his skills as a warrior. Such would never have happened when he'd been younger!
"Do not think ill of yourself for what happened. 'Twas he who made the mistake of attacking an innocent," Daer reminded him gravely. "You had no reason to think of being attacked so close to the gates, and surely Lindir is enough to distract even the most hardened of warriors." Daer smiled and then looked around them.
"What was the manner of his dress? There are few of such skill who would not be known."
"He wore silk but in a strange, outlandish manner. I do not remember having seen such among elves or men or dwarves ever before." Erestor recalled the image in his memory. "And on his nose was.... something. I do not know what it was - pieces of glass, it seemed. What was remarkable was that he did not seem to carry any form of armor."
"How did he retreat before you could attack?" Daerdion questioned. Even with the wearing of time, Daer knew his husband's unquestionable skill in any field of battle. "And unarmored..." The warrior's eyes narrowed. It troubled him to think of what power such a creature might wield.
"The same." Erestor shook his head. Never in all his years had he witnessed such! "I charged and within an instant he jumped aside and was gone! Not that he lacked courteous behavior or fine speech - but.... it was unreal! Like one of the Valar working magic." it was the only conclusion he could come up with. But none of the Valar looked like this creature!
"Here. It was here that we were attacked." Erestor brought Gil to a halt and pointed to the ground ahead of them "Over there he stood." luckily his memory was brilliant and clear as any elven memory - unlike the events from before the War of the Last Alliance, when Sauron had clawed through his memory, leaving irreparable damage behind.
Daerdion moved forward, gaze sweeping the brush. A glint of metal caught his eye, and he knelt. Brushing the grass free, he saw an amulet, some dark stone, set in brilliant gold. In the gold was etched odd writing. It looked almost elvish, but Daerdion could not place it. "'Restor, what do you make of this?" He passed the bit of jewelry into his lover's hands with a troubled frown.
Erestor took the piece and for a long time stared at it, his hand shaking ith the slightest tremor as he spoke, ignoring bravely the pain it caused him:
"These are Feanorian letters, the language though... 'Tis the Black Tongue! The same combination you find on the One Ring." he read it out loud, fluently so, then explained the meaning of those ugly, vile words.
"It seems to be some kind of... cult. Worship and servitude to the Dark Lords." he handed it hastily back to Daer who would not be harmed, because his body had not to remember like his own. "I do not know what this exactly means but I can assure you it IS connected to Sauron." was this left behind by their fiend? It would seem so - the Nazgul would not carry such bauble.
A deep laugh echoed throughout the woods, seemingly coming from nowhere. Moments later, however, Long stepped gracefully from the bushes, only a few feet behind the elves. "A cult?" He smirked. "You believe it to be a mere *cult*? And here I'd been convinced all these years that of all the races that should be wiped from Middle Earth, yours was not among them..."
TBC...
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