Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Touching Tomorrow	By : ErestorandFin Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 4612 -:- 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
Beta: keiliss

Contact: legolaslovesaragorn@yahoo.co.uk or glorfindelanderestor@yahoo.co.uk

Pairing: Erestor/?

Rating for this chapter: PG-13

Warnings for this chapter: Very Au, implied M-preg, implied violence

Disclaimer: Don’t own these elves, sadly.

Please R/R, feedback would be most appreciated.

Chapter One
Daylight slowly filtered through the cold glass of the apartment window, finding the gap in the heavy curtains. A thin gash of light streamed across the bed, over the mussed covers and onto the slowly waking figure. The slight form turned as the rays fell across his face, trying in vain to grasp onto the thin wisps of sleep slowly leaving his body.

Slowly I wake, as the sun that slips through the chinks of our curtains falls across the bed, stealing sleep away from me. Turning, I cast my hand over his side of the bed, and sigh, finding it, as always, empty.

Rubbing my eyes, I climb from the huge bed, starting as my feet find the cold wood floor. Padding over to the mirror I glance at myself, before continuing through to the en-suite to shower, as is proper.

Light reflected off startling white almost blinds me, and I pull the Viennese blind closed, the room dimming at once.

I turn on the shower, letting the cold water heat before stepping in. I let the hot water cascade over my chilled body, warm and soothing; a good start to what will undoubtedly be a bad day.

Picking up the shampoo, rose scented as he likes, I rub it through my hair. Cleaning my body, I wash away any traces of him from my skin, though I know it won’t be long till he covers me again. Every morning finds me thus.

I take but a few moments to savour the warmth; the drops sliding over my closed eyelids, down my body, cleansing my mind of any thoughts but of the steady streaming water, splashing and dripping.

Turning off the tap, I regretfully climb from the shower, my hand grabbing a white fluffy towel almost immediately, from habit. He knows if I stay wet…he says he can smell it, and it displeased him. I have learnt not to earn his wrath, and so I dry quickly.

I walk back into our room, drying my hair with another towel. I find the clothes he has picked out for me to wear today laying over the chair of the dressing table, and sighing, I put the towel down, and begin to dress.

I wish so much I was not treated like this, that I was at least allowed to pick my own clothes…. But I am too afraid to fight him, so I keep silent and accept the way things are.

A skirt of lush pink, pinched tightly at the top to make it cling to my hips, but loose and flowing at the bottom is matched with a light lilac jumper made of soft wool. It has long sleeves, as always, for I am expected to keep my arms covered.

Once dressed, I sit down at the dressing table, pulling the chair forward till my flat stomach is pressed against the edge. Picking up my hairbrush, I begin the tedious task of fixing my hair as he likes it. First I brush it, then I use the hair dryer to heat it as I curl the brush in my hair, creating soft waves in my dead straight hair.

Once finished, I reach for the pale concealer, looking at myself in the mirror. I apply it carefully to my discoloured cheek, expertly concealing the huge bruise that mars my pale face – he wants me perfect, all the time. A touch of lipstick – because my lips are not full enough - and some rosy powder, as the skin under my eyes is too dark. Finally I am done, and I look at myself, disgusted by what I see, a painted face, perfect by his standards.

Sudden screams rent the air, loud and demanding cries for my attention coming from the other room. Jumping to my feet, I rush through into the room attached to ours.

“Hush my darling, don’t cry; Naneth is here,” I murmur comfortingly, shooting to the side of the crib. I lift my elfling from his cot, a soft expression on my face, making gentle cooing noises and cradling him against me.

“What’s wrong Rodoniel, what do you want?” I whisper softly, and smile at the small pout that forms on my son’s face.

“Hungy” he declares, managing to grab a lock of my hair, and tug it sharply, causing me to wince.

“Feed me!” he demands, and then, making a soft gurgling, he sloppily kisses one of my powdered cheeks.

“Pwease Nana...” he adds, sweet as anything.

Supporting his small body against my hip, I carry him to the kitchen, kissing his forehead before placing him in the high chair, the tray of which I wipe, for it is covered once again in sticky fingerprints.

“Porridge, angel?” I ask, and am treated to a scrunched up face of revulsion, making me smile.

“Fruit then?” I offer, looking through the cupboards to see what there is.

“ ‘Nanas?” he questions suspiciously, watching me like a hawk. I nod, still looking through the shelves for something.

“Apples? Grapes? Orange, pear?” he asks in quick succession, and as each is met with a nod, he sits back satisfied.

“Saes, can I have some honey too Nana?” he asks, looking at me angelically, with sweet, wide eyes.

Grinning, I pull a jar of honey from the shelf, and, having known the question was coming wave it at him, making him giggled, pleased.

“Coming up darling,” I say, smiling at him, my only joy in life, before I go to find his breakfast in the fridge. I pull out the fruit drawer and select what I need; a small banana, an apple, a handful of grapes , a pear and an orange, balancing them in my hands as I close the fridge behind me.

“Are you sure you want all this Rodoniel?” I ask, looking at the pile of fruit as I set it down on the clean side, bending to pull a chopping board from the cupboard.

“Yes! Hungy” Rodoniel replies firmly, looking at me in a determined way. Laughing, I walk over to him, tickling his tummy lightly, making him shriek in high giggles.

“Are you sure you can eat it all?”

He laughs, looking up at me in an almost calculating way, which surprises me.

“I can eat it all Nana, I won’t leave any!” he says proudly, and I know I’m beat.

“Ok then little guy, but if you pop...” I say, poking his tummy again softly, “it’s your fault.”

He sticks his little tongue out at me, and then flutters his eyelids, pointing to the food.

“Now pwease” he instructs, looking at me confidently. The little imp, he already knows how to work me.

I carefully prepare his food, peeling and skinning all the fruit except the grapes, and cutting it all into small chunks and slices. Washing the grapes, I add them to the bowl of fruit, drizzling a generous spoon of honey over the top. Searching through the drawer I pull out a spoon, and walking over to Rodoniel, I pull out a chair and sit down facing him.

“Here we go…open wide” I say cheerfully, scooping up a grape and bringing it to his closed lips. He looks at me expectantly, mouth pouting and I smile.

“Open wide little one, here come the airplane...” I say, making the spoon zoom around before bringing it back to his mouth, which opens widely, and I pop the food in. Scooping up some more, I continue feeding him, making funny little plane noises that my husband would surly punish me for, was he here, but he is not, it is just me and my son. He cannot hurt me here.

Soon the bowl is empty and Rodoniel looks up at me proudly.

“Look Nana, I eated it all!” he exclaims happily, eager to please me.

“Well done, my darling,” I smile softly, wiping his sticky mouth with a napkin.

“But say ‘ate’ darling – I ate it all. For you are clever enough to be allowed to use some grown-up words.” I tell him, making it sound like a reward rather than a correction, for I don’t want to discourage him from trying.

“Ate..” He repeats slowly as I carry the bowl to the sink to clean later.

“Ate. Ate, ate, ate” he caws happily, “I Ate it all Naneth!”

“Indeed you did, little star”

“I like the grapes best, they are all juicy and bursty.” He smiles at me so innocently, and it fills my heart with love, as well as sadness as I consider the world I have to bring him up in.

His face turns thoughtful, and he looks at me, fixing me with a penetrating gaze that puts me on edge.

“What’s your favourite fruit, Nana?” he suddenly asks, curiously.

“I… don’t know,” I say quickly, turning around to busy myself with filling the sink with water, but he must have seen the alarm on my face, because I can feel his gaze on my back.

“You must have a favourite Naneth...” he argues, watching me closely.

Gripping the sink tightly till my knuckles are white, I mask my face before turning back to him, smiling.

“Peaches and cherries, curious one,” I whisper nervously, scared even though I know he is not here.

Thought we are alone, I have learned the hard way what it means to have my own opinions in a world he masters, and it is hard to break away from the fear.

Bustling over to Rodoniel, I lift him from the chair, his chubby little arms immediately wrapping around my neck. I grin and hold him close, carrying him into the lounge, sitting us down in our chair.

“Sweetie, please don’t tell your Adar about your questions will you?” I ask worriedly.

He nods against me, and I can feel I have confused him. He cannot understand why such a little thing is so important to me, but I know he will do as I ask, and perhaps I will tell him when he is ready.

“Would you like to do some reading angel?” I ask cheerfully, laughing at his enthusiasm as he suddenly bounces in my lap, face gleeful as he clambours from the chair.

Running to the bookcase, he pulls out one of the books I got for him, returning to me and dropping the book in my lap. He laboriously climbs up over the chair arm, picking the book up once more as he snuggles into my lap. I smile at him and let him get comfortable, his head nestled against the crook of my arm, before I open the book, holding it in front of him.

“Elves Through the Ages: short tales for Elflings,” I read, looking down at him questioningly.

“Are you sure this is what you want to read?” I ask, scanning through the introduction page, which describes where the tales are extracted from and other details.

At his excited nod, I open the book to the first story, and we are greeted with a picture of a shining elf with long golden locks and wearing armour, causing me to sharply inhale, and Rodoniel to squeal in delight and slowly begin to read the large words under the picture.

“The….Tale…of..Glor-Glor-findel of…. Gondolin.” He looks at me to see if he is right, and at my nod, continues.

“Glorfindel…was….a…Val…Val…What does that say, Nana?” he asks, lips wobbling at the difficult word.

“Valiant, sweetie”

“Was...a..Val-ient….warrior, who..fought…bravely..for…his…people.”

He smiles, and points to the picture when he stops.

“Is that Glorfindel, Nana?”

“Yes, that is Glorfindel before battle” I tell him. Rodoniel’s enjoyment radiates from his small form.

“He’s so pretty Nana…and he glows, too.” He frowns for a moment before continuing.

“Do all elves glow?”

“Yes darling, all elves have an inner light, but only other elves can see it”

“Oh. but…” he says, puzzled, brow furrowed.

“You don’t glow, Nana...” he bursts out confusedly.

I bite my lip at this, knowing I have not been careful enough.

“I…ah…I do glow darling, it’s just the light in here is so bright you can’t see it.” I quickly cover, disliking the lie I am giving him, but I cannot tell him the truth.

I think he is satisfied with this, because he turns the page and continues.

“Glorfindel…was….born…in ….the…hidden….Kitty?”

“City sweetie…Say it like an ‘s’. S-it-ee”

“He…belonged….to…the…House….of…the…Golden…..Flower and…became… captain…of… Gondolin’s….forces. He…ex-kelled?”

“X-sell-ed”

“excelled …at…archery….swordsman ship….and….combat.”

Rodoniel looks up at me for reassurance, and I hug him encouragingly.

“When… the.. city was… attacked, Glorfindel… fought and ….killed a… Balrog , …which… sadly… pulled him…. over the… cliff by his… golden… locks.”

“What happened to him Nana? He’s not dead is he?” he demands anxiously.

“Nay Penneth, he was reborn a very long time ago – but where he is now, I know not.”

He smiles, and closes the book. Leaving the rest for tomorrow, he puts it away.

“Look at me Nana, I’m Glorfindel the Balrog Slayer!” he declares, picking up a rolled newspaper and fighting some invisible foe, moving about the floor yelling ‘take that’ and ‘die fell beast!’.

His antics amuse me greatly, and rising, I kneel down and open my arms for him.

“Come on then my little warrior, lets get you dressed, and then we can go to the park if you would like,” I offer, and find my arms filled with happy elfling.

TBC
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Touching Tomorrow