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Windows of the Soul	By : FimSian Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1989 -:- Recommendations : 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.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Title:
Windows of the Soul
Chapter:
1/11
Author(s):
Fimbrethiel & Sian
Beta:
Alex
Contact: Fimbrethiel@yahoo.com & Sian265@aol.com
Type: FPS AU
Fandom:
LOTR
Pairing:
Erestor/Gildor & Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating:
NC-17
Warnings:
Strong sexual situations between Males, Extreme Violence and Graphic Images.
Disclaimer:
We are shamelessly playing with Tolkien�s Elves, but we swear it is just for
fun! All the lovely Elves are the property of the esteemed Prof. Tolkien�s
estate.

Summary: By
the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked to Lindon comes... a serial killer
is on the loose

A/N First of all,
I have never seen, nor do I watch CSI! Most of the ideas and nifty comments made
come from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and John Douglas. The forensic information
came from old college schoolbooks of mine; of course the story has been
embellished to add to the mystery and excitement. Thanks to my wonderful
Fimbrethiel who makes my words sound better, read better, and make sense!

A/N from
Fim: I *do* watch CSI religiously! I've always had a morbid
fascination with forensics, so when Denise approached me with the idea of
co-authoring a murder mystery, I jumped at the opportunity. She gets
the majority of the credit for this story - without her research and
creativity, this story would not be here.

******************************

Lindon, 1640 of the Second Age

The rain poured down, sheeting the windows, while lightning
rent the sky. The cobblestone streets were awash. Thunder rumbled heavily, and
a sudden peal shook the walls of the palace.

******************************
The blade sliced neatly through skin, tissue,
muscle. No ragged tears, only clean
lines, leaving thin rivulets of blood to trail down death-pale cheeks. There,
he thought, it could not see him now.

He looked down into the dead blue orbs staring back at
him, seeing him, knowing him� knowledge of his deeds blazed out as if his
accuser was standing next to him, shouting out his secrets. He shook
himself. No, they were dead, no image
recorded in their depths that were severed from blood and tissue.

They were useless.

******************************

"Erestor, there is someone at the d�aaahhh!"
Gildor's words hitched as the next driving thrust into his body tore the breath
from his chest. He was currently resting on his knees, stretched forward at the
waist on Erestor's bed, his hands clenching desperately at the rungs of the
headboard to keep himself from being slammed through the wall as Erestor
pummeled him from behind.

The dark Elf paused and listened for a moment, but heard
nothing except the rattle of rain driving against the windowpanes and the
steady rumble of the storm overhead. "No, there is not; it is simply thunder,"
was Erestor's growled reply, before resuming his onslaught.

A sharp rapping was undeniable the harbinger of an unwanted
guest - most definitely.

Gildor's arms were outstretched, muscles quivering with the
strain of keeping himself upright. "Door - nngggg - Erestor -"

This interruption is most untimely, Erestor thought dimly.
"Go away!" he barked, his body tight and tingling with impending
orgasm.

Reaching below Gildor's well-muscled body, he grasped his
lover's length and stroked firmly. Gildor nearly howled, and bucked back
against him.
"Erestor?!" the voice called, full of concern.

"Go. AWAY." Erestor hissed, renewing his assault
on Gildor's poor, aching arse.

His hand pumped the thick, pulsing shaft rapidly, and
Gildor's passage undulated wildly as he spilled in spurting jets of creamy
fluid over Erestor's pumping fist, wailing loudly with the strength of his
orgasm. The strong ring of muscle tightened almost painfully around Erestor's
swollen member, and with a hoarse shout, he climaxed powerfully in Gildor's
shuddering body. Falling forward heavily, his weight sent Gildor crashing down
on the bed where they lay panting, utterly exhausted.

Unfortunately, that untimely knocking came again. Muttering
a lengthy string of curses in the High Speech, Erestor untangled himself from
Gildor's sweaty form and stood, shrugging on a light robe as he stalked to the
door. "Coming!" he shouted in annoyance at the persistent knock.

Throwing open the door, he was greeted by the smirking face
of Captain D�rion, who took in Erestor's flushed face, tousled hair and the
unmistakable reek of sex hanging heavily in the air. "From the look and
sound of it, you already did," he remarked snidely.

"This interruption had better be of dire importance,
D�rion," Erestor hissed, greeting the Captain with distaste.

Over Erestor's shoulder, Captain D�rion eyed Gildor's nude
body sprawled face down on the rumbled bed, then allowing his eyes to roam
appreciatively over Erestor's partially clad form. "Impressive..." he murmured.

"Get on with it," Erestor demanded. "What
brings you here so late at night, disturbing me from... my leisure?�

Sobering, Captain D�rion turned a suddenly somber eye to the
dark Elf. "I am here at His Majesty's request, Erestor," he said by
way of apology. "Gil-galad needs
you."

Erestor's dark eyebrow quirked in an unasked question.

"There has been a murder, Erestor."

****************

Dark and deserted were the halls as Erestor and his
assistants, Gildor and Saelbeth, followed Captain D�rion, their boot heels
clicking noisily in the intricate tile work. Erestor stared after the broad
back of D�rion, wishing that it had been any other who summoned him to a crime
scene. He and the arrogant head of the palace guard had clashed before. Why the
Captain still persisted in his pursuit of Erestor, he did not know. Erestor had never encouraged him in any
sense, yet D�rion was relentless. Having Captain D�rion witness his liaison
with Gildor was sure to stretch an already tense working relationship nearly to
the breaking point.

Erestor was not unaware of the power of his appeal, and had
used those tools at his disposal in the past.

Black as raven's wings was Erestor�s hair, straight and
heavy, thick and silken; it hung to the back of his knees. His skin was as pale
as the season's first snow, the whiteness broken only by almond shaped onyx
eyes and the ruby redness of his lips. Erestor was tall and slender, his figure
suited to that of an archer. He moved with poise, his motions graceful as a
dancer�s, and many underestimated this deceptive fragileness for weakness or
were taken unaware by his beauty.

But Erestor was a private, analytical Elf, his mind always
occupied by the complexity of the psyche. Most of Erestor's thoughts were dark;
one could not see or experience what he had and not be shaped by those events.
While most Elves could enjoy the galas held almost nightly in Lindon's vast
Halls, Erestor�s shrewd eyes saw only security breeches, dangerously dark
corners, and opportunities for mayhem.

Following silently behind Erestor, Gildor and Saelbeth
carried heavy black bags, tools that Erestor had perfected and used in his
investigations. Erestor heard the excited buzz of the crowd gathered in the
hallway before he reached the servant�s wing. Stopping at the entrance to the
corridor, he observed the crowd of servants and nobles that talked nervously
among themselves. His eyes swept over each face, memorizing the features for
later perfect recall. Most he recognized, but a flash of gold caught and held
his eyes. That face he did not know, and he would have remembered if he
had. This Elf was unknown, and Erestor
stared a moment longer than was his wont.

Captain D�rion stopped, noticing for the first time that
Erestor was no longer behind him. Erestor waited until D�rion drew close, then
ordered, "Captain, this hall is to be cleared and each person returned to
his or her room. I want a guard on each door, and they are not to leave or
speak to anyone until they have been interviewed." Erestor's piercing gaze
bored into the Captain's, but the foolish Elf spoke anyway.

"I do not take orders from you, Erestor," the
Captain stated defiantly, the hurt over witnessing the Noldo�s recent tumble
with Gildor plain in his voice. But even
as D�rion said the words, he knew them to be untrue. Not only was Erestor
advisor to the King, he was also head of any investigations in Lindon. Erestor
also was a Lord, and nobility outranked the palace guard, Captain or no.

One sharp black brow arched and Erestor's eyes bore into the
Captain�s. "Do you not, Captain?" he asked, his tone mocking.

The battle of wills did not last long. The Captain swore
angrily under his breath, but he backed down. "It will be done, Lord
Erestor," was the Captain's only response before spinning away and barking
sharp orders to his men.

Erestor waited until most of the bystanders had been cleared
before moving to the open door. His teeth ground together when he heard the
sound of voices coming from his crime scene, and again Erestor paused on the
threshold, his snapping black eyes landing on the Elf in charge.

"Why are there healers present? I was under the
impression that there was a dead body here?" Erestor's calm voice halted
all conversation, and all eyes flew towards him.

Gil-galad recognized the look in Erestor's eyes. The King
knew his Chief of Special Investigations was very watchful of his crime scenes.
He glanced quickly at his herald before addressing his Advisor. "There is
a body, Erestor. When I received word, I thought it prudent for a healer to be
in attendance. They were called at my direction. We were unsure what we were
dealing with at first."

Gil-galad's words did nothing to ease the look of irritation
that briefly crossed Erestor's face. Erestor swept a hand before him gesturing
toward the door, clearly an invitation for Gil-galad and Elrond to leave the
room. "I will need to speak with each of you, and of course I do not need
to tell you, my Lords, that there should be no discussion outside this
room." None present wished to push Erestor's patience. Gil-galad gave his
advisor a slight smile that was not returned as he and the others filed past
Erestor.

Erestor stood in the doorway, his mind taking in the picture
before him. The room was typical of a servant's quarters, bearing the standard
furniture; a single bed, nightstand, wardrobe, and a small dining table. The room was not orderly, rather, it looked
as if the occupant had just arrived home and was in the process of shedding the
uniform worn by all females in Gil-galad's service. Said uniform was tossed
across the small bed, and a pair of well-worn shoes sat on the floor close by.
The door to the wardrobe was slightly open and a single teacup sat on the small
table.

Turning his head, Erestor examined the door to the room. It
appeared normal, untouched. As Erestor stepped into the room, Saelbeth went to
follow his superior, but was brought up short by Gildor's arm preventing him
from following.

Saelbeth watched as Erestor methodically began walking in a
strange pattern about the room. He started at the very edges, following the
perimeter, and gradually worked his way around the room in progressively
smaller circles until he finally reached the very center of the room. Saelbeth
looked to Gildor, confusion clear on his face. "What is he doing?" he
whispered.

Gildor glanced sideways at the young assistant,
understanding completely the lost expression in the smaller Elf's eyes.
"If you want to understand the artist, you have to look at the
painting," was Gildor's cryptic reply. He could see that if anything,
Saelbeth appeared even more baffled, but Gildor also knew full well that the
one to explain it best � the master himself - was inside the room, doing what
he did best.

Erestor finally gestured for his assistants to join him.
Young Saelbeth pulled from his bag his sketch pad and charcoals. One of his
talents was drawing, and as he began sketching he remembered Erestor�s
instructions to him; draw the room to scale, leave out no detail no matter how
insignificant, and date and time the drawing. Saelbeth worked in silence,
hastily sketching the room and furnishings, the clothing strewn about - the
pages of the sketchbook were rapidly filled as he moved about the room,
changing the perspective with each drawing. His eager young mind listened to
the conversation between Erestor and Gildor, soaking up the knowledge that came
from Erestor�s smooth, calm voice. �What
do you see, Gildor?� Erestor asked, his tone soft and even - what Gildor teasingly
called his teacher�s tone.

�An ordinary room,� Gildor answered, looking about.

�Exactly,� was Erestor�s answer. �What does that say to
you?�

Gildor frowned and forced himself to think hard about what
his mind was processing. �Well, to begin with, there is no sign of a struggle.�
Once he started, Gildor became excited at the fountain of information he was
able to see. �There is no sign of forced entry, the door is intact and the lock
unbroken. It looks as though the victim was not expecting company.�

Erestor stopped him there. �What makes you think that,
Gildor?�

Gildor gestured about. �There is only one tea cup. The
victim�s closet is slightly open, the day�s clothes still tossed upon the bed,�
he frowned in thought and looked to Erestor for confirmation.

Erestor only hummed and crossed the room, stopping in front
of the victim, where Gildor joined him. Saelbeth finally forced himself to look
at the reason they were in the room. He gulped, his face turning an alarming
shade of green.

�If you intend to vomit, please do so outside in the hall,
Saelbeth, away from my crime scene.� Erestor�s voice was kindly but stern. He did not look at his young assistant, thus
making it easier for Saelbeth to force his bile away and shake himself
mentally. He did not want to embarrass himself in front of Erestor!

Silently the trio looked at the poor Elf whose life had
ended so violently. The victim was seated upright, her head resting against the
back of the chair. Gleaming silver hair was neatly and carefully braided in a
manner typically worn for formal occasions. Her hands were ringless, folded
demurely in her lap, and the dark blue silk robe she wore accentuated her tall,
slender form. The robe was elaborately decorated with silver etchings and
buttoned from neck to toe. �Telerin, no doubt,� Erestor murmured, noting the
victim�s build and hair coloring.
What made the picture so very obscene was the peaceful
posture of the elleth�s body, which was at odds with the ghastly ruin of her
face.

The elleth�s eyes had been removed, and down her cheeks were
thin blood trails that disappeared into the neck of the robe.

Erestor sighed, allowing himself a brief moment to mourn a
life snuffed out that should have been immortal, and sent a brief prayer to the
Valar that her soul was now safely in Mandos� keeping. But the moment of
grieving was fleeting. He had a job to do, and the dead Elf would not receive
justice by him being soft. He now had to stand for the victim, and that
required his full mental focus. Emotion could not be allowed to come between
victim and justice.

�Gloves,� he snapped, and Gildor immediately handed him a
pair from the black bag, in anticipation of Erestor�s request.

Erestor slipped on the special gloves, which had been made
for him with specific instructions for their design. The gloves were fashioned
completely from the thinnest, softest doe skin that could be found, the seams
flat stitched along the back of the fingers, leaving the palm and inner surface
line and crease free. While Erestor had not as yet perfected a method of recovering
and recording fingerprints, he was working on it. These gloves enabled him to
touch items and bodies without leaving his own fingerprints behind.

Erestor studied the victim for several minutes, the room
silent except for the rapid scratching of Saelbeth�s charcoal against the
sketch pad. Erestor�s eyes traveled from
the elleth's face down to her hands. �No defense wounds,� he murmured, and
Gildor took notes as Erestor examined the elleth's body. Not much of the victim�s body could be seen,
the robe covered much. But Erestor again studied the face of his victim. �Such
precision in the removal of the eyes. This is someone who knows how to handle a
blade, exceptionally so.�

Gildor�s questioning frown was caught by Erestor who invited
his assistant to lean a bit closer. �Look here, Gildor. The cuts leave no
frayed edges. No excess blood was spilt because the artery behind the eye was
neatly cut. This was done slowly and with an extremely sharp instrument.�
Gildor nodded his head in understanding, moving back and giving Erestor room to
circle about the victim.

�The robe, I believe, hides the rest of the tale. Wrap her,
Gildor and transport her to my lab. I want a guard posted until we can perform
the autopsy,� Erestor ordered.

Gildor, with Saelbeth�s help, unwrapped the special sheeting
Erestor used to wrap bodies in. It was of a silk material, plain white in
color. Erestor used this to avoid transference of fibers from the victim to the
sheet and vice versa. Many fibers he found could be matched back to a specific
garment or area of the palace. Erestor had a lab full of well-labeled sample
fibers from about Lindon, which he used to compare against unknown fibers.

Carefully, with Erestor�s eagle eye upon them, Gildor and
Saelbeth wrapped the body completely. Gildor next went to the door and called
for Captain D�rion to come in. Once the orders had been given to a surprisingly
cooperative Captain, the body was removed.

Gildor watched as the body of the elleth was carried away.
Looking sadly about the small room, he asked Erestor. �Do you think there will be more?�

Saelbeth looked at Gildor and Erestor, puzzled. �More what?�
he asked.

�Killings,� Gildor replied. Saelbeth and Gildor looked at
Erestor, who was staring grimly at the closed door.

�Yes, something tells me this killer is just getting
started��

TBC...
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Windows of the Soul

Lindon, 1640 of the Second Age