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Scarred Fate	By : Massanie Category: +Third Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2051 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Title: Scarred Fate

Series: The Bitter Glass

Sequel to: The Bitter Glass

Characters: Elrond/Glorfindel, Elrond/Celebrían, Erestor, Elladan, Elrohír, Arwen, Galadriel, Celeborn, Melpomaen, Lindir

Rating: R, M

Warnings: AU, mentioned child abuse and non-con, 3Plus (as pre-slash), Abuse, Anal, Angst, M/M, Torture, Violence

Beta: oli…x

Disclaimer: Sadly, the only thing I own is the plot but none of the characters or places in it… they are all Tolkien's and of course I'm not earning any money with this.

Original summary: He is the youngest chief advisor in the history of Middle Earth; he is intelligent, calculating, secretive ... and highly manipulating.

No one realises the extent of this ability until suddenly all around him disaster is coming thick and fast and a well-planned chaos breaks out.

I might add that none of the original characters are evil as one might expect after reading the summary.

Summary of the prequel (Gates of Dawn): Erestor flees to Imladris with the help of some border guards from Greenwood to escape his abusive family. He is adopted by the Imladrian chief advisor Dírhael who dies during the attack on Celebrían that led to her departure into the west. Erestor is appointed chief advisor.

After her rescue Celebrían releases Elrond from their vows so he could start a new life with Glorfindel, knowing that they were soul mates. Erestor isolates himself even more and only Lindir manages to befriend him.

initial situation: Imladrian sentries report an increased Orc sighting in the Misty Mountains. As Elrond and his sons are about to cross the High Pass on their way back from a visit in Mirkwood, and are unaware of the danger, a large rescue-party is send out led by Glorfindel.

CHAPTER 1: Leave Me A Lie

SCRIPTS:

'Thoughts'; ~visions~; **mind speech**; -l-Letters-l-

Blinded by love

Between lust and hate

You scarred your fate

There's no time to waste

Ride for your own ruin

Odium became your opium

"Lindir!"

The white haired ellon saw his friend Erestor hurrying towards him. The black-haired elf was clad in a dark grey riding cloak and a grey tunic and leggings. He was pale – but then he always was.

Lindir knew that the chief councillor's horse was already in the courtyard waiting for him. The large contingent of soldiers made ready also; in less than half an hour the party would depart, riding out for the rescue of their lord and his son's. But still Lindir did not understand why Erestor would go.

"Why?" There were tears in the minstrel's eyes that he was refusing to spill. Erestor took his hands in his own and Lindir sighed at how chilled they felt. "You are cold to the bones, mellonen! Worse, you are cold to your very soul. You do not have the strength to do this. I know you always kept your secrets but this is folly. You are chief advisor: you have no business in this mission. You are no warrior Erestor, do you want to get yourself killed?" His voice sounded hurt.

"I will not argue, Lindir. He is our lord and I know I can help. You will understand when our contingent returns safely with Elrond. But know this – whatever will happen – know that I always treasured your friendship, your loyalty. I will never forget that."

The white haired elf stared in horror at the councillor; he shook his head in denial and suppressed a sob. "Don't …"

"Lindir, remember the letters in my desk, will you? Should something happen?" Erestor beseeched his friend.

"Don't do this. Don't let us part like this. Don't say goodbye like we'd never meet again." Finally Lindir let his tears fall and lowered his head.

Erestor sighed and embraced the other. "My friend, there will always be a next meeting for us, that I promise you; and you know I always hold on to my promises."

"I mean meeting in this world, Erestor, on this side of the sea!"

The dark haired ellon raised his eyebrows and tried to smile "Oh, well. I can only repeat my last promise. But you will remember the letters?"

Lindir nodded.

"Then all will be well. I have to take my leave now. Farewell, my friend. May the Valar bless you."

Erestor did not wait for an answer, swiftly stepping out of the embrace and turning to go. He was shivering, Lindir could see that. The symptoms of the elven sickness were more evident than they had ever been. He knew Erestor would not return. Somehow he just knew it.

"May they guard you, my friend."

Guard. Maybe Glorfindel could guard him as well. He straightened his spine and willed his breath to even. Then he hurried to Erestor's office.

Only minutes later Lindir came to a halt in front of the large wooden doors to Erestor's refuge. He knew that the door would be unlocked, Melpomaen and the other advisors would have to have access, but still he hesitated. If he went through with his plans he would betray Erestor's trust and if his friend found out … he could only hope for his forgiveness and understanding.

Slowly Lindir turned the doorknob and opened the door to Erestor's territory. The rising sun shone through the large windows directed towards the courtyard where the party under Glorfindel's command made ready to leave.

Lindir tiptoed towards his friend's large desk even though he knew that nobody was near. Everyone was out in the courtyard seeing the warriors off. But he felt like a trespasser (which of course he was) or like a child again, about to sneak into the kitchens to steal some sweets. He smiled at his own silliness. There was no need to be quiet but still he had to be careful to keep away from the large windows. It would do no good to have anyone in the courtyard seeing him lurking in the chief advisor's office.

Slowly he rounded the desk. Stacks of papers were draped over its surface each neatly provided with a sign addressing its content and the name of the advisor who had to attend to it, written in the elegant handwriting of the chief advisor. Erestor had always been adamant about his system of organizing the paper work. While he was aware that his quick mind and organizational skills kept Imladris running as smoothly as it did and his prowess in the council chambers were procuring the Last Homely House with a non-deniable vantage in every negotiation his conception of order ensured that Imladris would never sink into chaos if he was ever to be unable to fulfil his duties – like now. Melpomaen would take over for Erestor for the first time (as Erestor had never appointed an official second) and Lindir hoped with every fibre of his tense body that it would not be a permanent situation. With his heart hammering wild in his chest he remembered the first time that Erestor had to step in for his mentor Dírhael – who had never returned from his trip to Lóriën.

Finally the white haired minstrel sat back on his heels behind the massive desk and pulled a silver key out of his pockets.

Erestor had given it to him. It was not a memory that he was fond of, it never failed to fill him with an anxiety he could not quite place.

FLASHBACK

Every year at Dírhael's death-day Erestor took some days off. He would lock himself into his rooms and not answer knocks nor come out for meals. No one really knew what the chief advisor did while he hid in his chambers but every year when he would finally join the household once more he would be pale and weakened.

This year, Elrond had had enough and when Erestor came to him once again to inform him that he would take some days off, Elrond tried to break his advisor's routine, telling him to stop it, to go on instead of withering away in grief. The elven lord had implored Erestor to accept help but the younger ellon had only told him not to meddle into things that were none of his business, that he had the right to take his time off and whatever he did in his free time was his decision alone. The argument had gone awfully wrong when Erestor had left his lord's office in an angry rush and Elrond had come after him, opened the door and all but shouted at him from the doorframe

"You are fading, Erestor!"

The words had echoed through Imladris' corridors and all talking between the servants and advisors that occupied them stopped immediately. Shocked faces turned towards Elrond and Erestor whose spine had straightened impossibly so. With all the dignity he could muster he had turned towards Imladris' lord and slowly bowed, deliberately ignoring the other witnesses to this revelation.

"In all those years as your chief advisor I have never failed you, my lord, and I never will. And with all due respect, my lord Elrond, if I am fading, than it is my decision alone to make, not yours; I would very much appreciate it if you would be so kind as to not interfere in *my* personal affairs. As long as my health has no impact on my work than it is none of your concern. Good day my lord."

With that he bowed again and proudly passed the shocked elves that had assembled in the corridor.

Erestor would go to his chambers and not emerge from them for the next five days. Lindir went to his rooms every single day, knocking and pleading with the elf within to open like the minstrel had done the last few years and would do the next few decades as well. When Lindir came again to his friend's door the sixth day in a row to pound onto them he was surprised to find them suddenly opened. There in front of him stood Erestor, pale and drained, a dark robe hanging from his slim shoulders.

"You are stubborn."But a small mirthless smile played around the chief advisor's lips as he whispered the words and stepped aside to bid his friend entry.

"As are you."

Lindir's voice almost shivered with anger and frustration but he entered the chief advisor's private rooms. They were dark for all the windows were concealed by heavy burgundy curtains but he had seen on other occasions how the sun would bath the wooden walls and the beautifully crafted furnishings in warm golden light, giving the room a warm and welcoming atmosphere. Lindir knew those rooms; he had often been here over the last few years, forcing himself into Erestor's life and keeping the lone elf company. So it was with not much difficulty that he found his way to the living room suite before the cold fireplace. He settled down with a familiarity that made Erestor smile a little bit.

The white haired ellon tapped with his nails on the dark wooden armrest, his whole bearing reflecting the emotional turmoil he was in: anger and frustration about his friend's stubbornness showed in his posture, an ill-humoured impatience could clearly be seen in his fair face and his blue eyes were full of concern.

Erestor sighed, closed the door and walked to one of the stuffed armchairs, sitting down gracefully himself.

Erestor and Lindir were opposites in so many ways that everyone wondered over their curious friendship: While Erestor was reclusive and solemn, dedicating himself to his work and seemingly having no hobbies at all, Lindir was outgoing and serene, he liked being in crowds, being seen and being heard. Erestor was like the night, with his black hair and eyes, with his cold attire and his paleness; Lindir was light: his white hair flowing freely behind him and his fair skin shining; his blue eyes were open and revealed what Erestor's had learned to hide.

Several minutes they sat there in silence, Erestor content to feel the other's presence and Lindir waiting for his friend to finally speak some words of placation but the black haired ellon stayed quiet.

"You are much paler than the last time, mellon. If you keep on doing this insane self-punishment I fear it will be your death one day. Why do you torment yourself so?"

Lindir had learned long ago that Erestor hated irrelevant chattering and he felt secure enough in their friendship to be honest like this.

"I have to do this."

Silence again. Lindir knew the black haired would not say another word as to why he felt the need to torment himself. So he tried a different approach.

"Elrond knows that you are fading."

"And everyone else, too, I reckon."

"Yes." Lindir's voice was merely a whisper. Erestor wasn't even sure he had heard. His elven senses had dulled due to his delicate health. Most of the times he managed to cover those facts but now it would be more difficult.

Nonetheless he registered the helplessness in his friend's voice and the slumped shoulders.

Erestor stood up and slowly took his friend's hands in his, pulling the other to his feet as well. "I have been fading before, Lindir; for a long time. I am stronger than you think me to be and I will not succumb to it now while I am needed here." He embraced his friend, resting his head on the other's shoulder. Lindir could feel Erestor's breath against his neck and it reassured him. His friend was living, and he just had to hope that he could … would overcome his grief; he'd make sure of that.

"But there is something I would ask of you."

Lindir did not hesitate as he heard the plea whispered against his ear.

"Anything …"

Erestor pulled back to meet Lindir's eyes and again he took the minstrel's hands, laying something cold in the open palm and closing the fingers around it. Lindir frowned; he felt the key pressed into his palm and confused he met Erestor's eyes.

"This key opens a box that I will put in the bottom drawer of the desk in my office. There are letters in there. If something happens to me …"

"No!" The minstrel tried to stop his friend from continuing. He did not want to hear this further. He had become pale – nearly as pale as his hair, making him appear like a ghost.

"… Listen Lindir … it's important for me. If something happens to me, open it; take the letters and give them to the addressees. Promise me!"

It was not the voice of his friend that Lindir heard; it was the commanding tone of the chief advisor, whose orders were to be abided at any rate. Erestor had not used that tone on him since their friendship had started and it took him aback. He could only nod his agreement.

Erestor sighed relieved and once more took his friend into his arms. "Le hannon, mellonen. If I die one day … or … or if I disappear … without a trace or word, then deliver the letters immediately, they contain all the answers you need. Just do not open them before that day."

But Lindir felt afraid, shocked. Erestor was not totally honest. Elves had no need for a testament, except when they feared for their lives. Whatever the dark ellon withheld from him scared him and induced in him a sense of foreboding and dread.

"Do not give up and fade away from me!"

"I promise I will not succumb to the elven sickness."

END OF FLASHBACK

Lindir looked at the offending silver key. Quickly making up his mind he opened the bottom drawer and unveiled a small box of dark cherry wood. It was plain except for an elegantly formed silver lock at its front. He made haste and opened it with a soft clicking sound. Swiftly he took the seven letters and returned everything to its initial state and left his friend's office.

Looking through Erestor's letters Lindir could not stop himself from frowning: there was one for captain Thalion, a Silvan Elf who had accompanied Erestor from Mirkwood when Erestor had first set foot on Imladris four centuries ago, furthermore there were letters for Melpomaen, Lindir himself, Elrond, Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohír and Galadriel. Why ever would Erestor leave something like a last will for the twins and the lady of the Golden Wood? He pocketed the four letters for Thalion, Galadriel, Melpomaen and the one that bore his own name, and rushed off to search Imladris' captain.

Just as he was slowly becoming desperate in his search for the golden elf lord he found him standing at the entry of the main house giving last instructions to his second in command, Telchar. Glorfindel wore dark green leggings and tunic, neatly tucked into soft leather boots. His expression was grim, after all it was his lover and his family that were unknowingly endangering themselves by attempting to cross the High Pass that very moment. For a second, Lindir reconsidered at seeing the lord's expression, but then he rushed forward.

"lord Glorfindel."

The blond ellon turned his eyes towards him, his features softening. Lindir was a kind-hearted elf and furthermore the best friend of his secret protégé Erestor.

"Lindir, what is it? But please hurry, we have to leave in a few minutes."

Lindir took his elbow and steered him away from curious eyes and ears. Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. He tried to be patient with the sensible musician, but they had so little time …

"I will not take much of your time; I know that it is vital for our lord and his family that you make haste. It's about Erestor."

"So you know why he insisted on accompanying us?" The captain was indeed curious why the chief advisor had been adamant about him being a part of the contingent.

"No, but I worry for him. You know that he is fading. It has become worse after lord Dírhael's death day last week. I think he is sure that he will not return alive from this mission. He knows something about his future, maybe the lady Galadriel told him something … I don't know."

Lindir was desperately trying to hold eye contact with Glorfindel, to make him believe his words that stumbled from his lips in a rush as if he was afraid that the captain and seneschal would not hear him out.

"Years ago he gave me letters for you, our lord and his sons, his assistant, the lady Galadriel, captain Thalion and me; and he said if he disappeared without a trace or if he died, I was to deliver them to their recipients. Now I give them to you. I think he will disappear, Glorfindel. And if this happens, then open the letters. He told me they contained answers. Please keep him safe!"

He pressed the four letters against Glorfindel's chest who took them with knitted eyebrows. Glorfindel stared questioningly at the white haired ellon who was now crying softly. Again he looked at the letters in his hands.

"He reminded me of them just half an hour ago and he told me farewell, that he treasured my friendship above all. He … he will not return!"

He was sure that Lindir's imagination had gotten the better of him but it was true: the chief counsellor was fading and he would not take that lightly. The fact that Erestor had even written farewell letters greatly disturbed him. "Hush, I'm not going to let that happen. I will bring him back to you, okay? I will make sure he is fine, do not worry."

"Now, young one: pull yourself together and keep up hope. We will return with Elrond and Erestor just within ten days at the most, okay? I have to go now." He gave the minstrel one more encouraging smile that he found hard to fake, than he rejoined Telchar who accompanied him into the courtyard.

He saw Erestor already on his dun, it's hide shimmering like gold. The chief advisor sat on his fabulous horse like a proud statue, his black hair flowing freely to the small of his back. He was pale but his face betrayed nothing of his body's weakness, only showing a cool determination.

His blue-black common raven sat on his leather clad fist. The bird was his constant companion and it therefore surprised no one that the counsellor would take it along.

Glorfindel sighed. He knew about the scars that marred the dark ellon's soul, that made him cold and distant but still he wished Erestor had allowed Elrond and him to comfort him in those long past years. But Erestor had brusquely turned them away, telling them to back off; and they had complied, once again fading into the background of Erestor's life.

Giving Lindir a last reassuring nod he mounted and the party rode out for Imladris, for Elrond and his heirs.

CHAPTER END NOTES

mellon ~ friend

mellonen ~ my friend

le hannon ~ thank you

Song: 'Trois Vierges' by Epica
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Scarred Fate