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Replacement	By : acids Category: -Multi-Age > General Views: 1297 -:- 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
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Acids' note: the story below is not mine. It's written by Red Autumn and belonged to her only. I was only helping her to post it here, under her full permission. Okay?

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Title : Replacement

Author : Red Autumn (red_autumn21@yahoo.com)

Pairing(s) : Gil-galad/Glorfindel, Gil-galad/Elrond (implied)

Rating : R

Summary : Glorfindel was punished for his failure to protect his friend.

Warning : Slash, Rape, Angst, Violence, PWP. Also there is a character death �EElrond �Enothing serious here but it serves the purpose of this story. So, I won�t be passing out tissue boxes to you all. ^_^ (Don�t worry, Elrond will be alive and well after this. I promise.)

Disclaimer : All Tolkien�s characters created by him belonged only to him. I only borrowed them to bring to life my fantasy universe.

NOTE : This short fic was written in response to Elf Acids�Echallenge. I hope you feel better after reading this. (bah! To the flamers! What do they know about good dark fics!!!) ^_^ Nothing like a quick, raw, violence on a helpless elf to brighten the day!!! ^_^ (Heheheh�EI am getting sick and sadistic!!)

Thanks to beta reader Morgan for her really quick response and betaing. (Gives her a great big koala bear hug!!!!)
REPLACEMENT
The great war had just ended. Despite that the battle was won, no one cheered. No sound of celebration filled the air, not even laughter. Wails and calls for help were heard everywhere. Moans of pain and crying hung heavily like a wet blanket, drowning even the staunchest heart.

Smoke billowed everywhere, wet mud squished noisily and all the colours seemed to have faded to a grim black and grey. Even the sky no longer held the cheerful blue colour. It was as if everything had died or was dying. It was such a mournful and melancholic atmosphere.

Men and elves helped each other to search for the injured to be treated and the dead to be mass cremated. It was an ugly sight. Black and red blood splattered all over, leaving no one without being tainted by it. Body parts were strewn about as if discarded carelessly for the hungry vultures to feed on.

Battle scars a soul for life. To be forced to watch a friend or lover die needlessly was painful. It was like watching a part of yourself being amputated because it was too late to save it. Death itself was terrible especially for an immortal being for those vivid memories stay fresh in their mind for a very long time.

Even though the war was over, another war more devastating was happening among the elves. This was a much more destructive fight between kin and families; and between ones emotions and sanity. It made no sense for the squabble among the firstborns but it surfaced nonetheless. Often the experiences left a deep wound either physically or mentally that will never heal.

"He�s �E he�s what?" yelled a dark haired elf seated on a large throne-like chair just outside his tent. His voice was clearly heard above the commotions surrounding them.

Everyone standing around him and those close by could see that his body was trembling from barely restrained emotions that were raging through him. His face had turned within mere seconds from pale to deep red; from utter shock to fury. It was raw anger now that showed on his noble features.

The hands gripping the armrests of the chair was white and if he did not release it soon, he would break the solid dark wood.

No one pitied the young blond elf cowering just two short strides away from the High King of the Noldor, Gil-galad. Only fear, fear for his safety and life. The young tremtrembled like a leaf, wincing visibly every time the King seemed to loose control of himself.

"I�EI�Equot; squeaked the small elf. "I�Eried�Equot;

"Silence!" boomed the King and he stood up. He was a huge elf, standing tall and regal with his body strapping with muscles from millennia of training. The blood shot eyes glared deadly at the elf at his feet.

There would be no help for the young elf when he faces the King�s wrath. No one dared to intervene.

The blond elf had been too mortified to move away. He knew he would suffer greatly for this failure. He watched with great apprehension at the towering elf in front of him. A slight breeze had blown past and tugged at the red and gold trimmed cloak of the King, flapping it around like a flag, in salute to the triumph they had just secured for Middle-Earth.

Only one elf had the courage to save him and the power to influence Gil-galad�s infamous mood. Most unfortunate, that particular elf or rather half-elf was the reason this young soldier was kneeling on the floor, praying to every Valar ouldould remember, that he would be granted a quick death.

Glorfindel had been given the task to protect the King�s lover who happened to be his close friend. But he failed miserably that left him devastated. Head downcast, he looked at the boots he was wearing and found splatters of blood on it, Elrond�s blood.

The memory was so fresh in his mind as he held his dear friend in his arms, seeing blood gushing out of his gut and unable to stop it. He remembered begging him not to go to Mandos�EHalls, crying and holding him tightly, watching helplessly as Elrond took in every painful gasp until the last.

The next thing he remembered was his howl of pain echoing through the lifeless and barren plain. After hours of crouching over the motionless body, several elf soldiers tried to pry him away from it. He was immediately sent to a healer because he had taken a deep sword wound on his right thigh. Then they urged him to march back to their camp, watching him nervously as he moved sluggishly and in daze.

When they had arrived, there was no delaying in informing the king. He would suspect anyway and would come looking for him. With as much courage and energy as Glorfindel could muster from his battered body, he limped towards his King�s tent.

"Guards!" The King stood up suddenly. Glorfindel blanched and shook even more. "I want him tied to that tree. And someone get me the whip."

Three guards nearby were swift to obey. No one lags when the King commands.

The young elf was quickly stripped off his tunic and undershirt before being pushed against the tree, making him hug it with both arms around it. A piece of rope was tied around his wrists tightly so that he could not move.

After someone had handed Gil-galad the whip, he tested it by lashing it onto the forest ground. He watched as it ripped a clump of soil along with some grass, bouncing up. Satisfied, he let it fly through the air, slicing with a swift swish before landing on delicate skin. It left an angry red welt on the pale and already bruised skin.

Only a sharp hiss escaped from Glorfindel. He was determined not to scream. It was not the time to break down and show weakness because the King would accuse him further of being a coward and the cause of his lover�s death.

To make the pain bearable, Glorfindel concened oed on the image of his dead friend before he suffered the mortal wound.
FLASHBACK

The half-elf had been standing beside him, fighting together as foul orcs surrounded them. They had parried and slashed in unison like a team but the more they hacked down, the more appeared.

A stray arrow was headed their way. Neither realised it because they were too occupied trying to save themselves before being overwhelmed by the number of orcs trying to swarm them until it was too late. It imbedded into Elrond�s shoulder and in that moment of distraction, several Uruk-hai took the opportunity to attack. Two swords found their way slashing through the half-elf�s abdomen and chest.

Glorfindel turned when he heard the cries of pain and in the process someone had impaled a sword into his thigh. They were quickly swarmed over but by sheer luck, a few elf soldiers had come to their rescue. Unfortunately, it was not soon enough to save Elrond.

END OF FLASHBACK
The lashing continued, as Gil-galad was intent on releasing all his fury and grief over the loss, not caring if he killed the elf in the process. Only a few spectators had stayed back to watch the punishment while others left, feeling too sick and exhausted to witness more bloodshed and another death. The war had left most of them drained to the bones.

When the blond elf was finally released, he was barely conscious. He felt hands below his armpits, dragging him somewhere else. He did not bother to find out where he was taken to because he was too much in pain to care about anything else. For all he knew, the King had other punishments in store for him and he was not looking forward to it.

The pitiful creature was dumped onto a lavishly carpeted floor. Only the movements of his chest indicated that he was still alive. He lay there unmoving for several hours, grateful for the brief respite from the next punishment that would come inevitably.

Gil-galad finally walked in and looked at the bloodied heap on the floor. More hatred boiled inside him. The sight made him fist his hands, cracking the knuckles. His eyes were still bloodshot and his lips parched. A sheen of sweat clung on his face. His hair was also slightly damp. After whipping the blond elf, he had headed to a secluded area to vent his grief alone.

Elrond was the love of his life and had been so since the half-elf had come to live with him in Imladris and captured his heart immediately. The young one was beautiful beyond description and his innocence had only added more points to it. He was very young then, barely having reached his majority and very much inexperienced in general. Gil-galad had personally tutored him in many things, including the physical pleasures for the first time on the night that Elrond became an adult. It was natural that the High King developed a strong possessiveness over Elrond.

Due to this �ownership�E Elrond was often left lonely for no one dared to come close to him, afraid of arousing unwarranted misunderstanding. That was how he struck a friendship with Glorfindel. The blond elf had been a stranger when he first came to Imladris. He had followed his lover to start a new life after they were driven out of their own destroyed kingdom and forced to become refugees. However, an accident had killed his lover not long after.

Dealing with grief alone, Glorfindel almost died and would have had it not been for Elrond. Being masterful in the art of healing, he had brought him back to life and they had both been close friends ever since. Watching from afar, Gil-galad was jealous of their closeness even though he knew their friendship was genuine.

The two had spent countless times in each other�s company. They even trained together in swordfights from the best master and had found that they worked perfectly in unison. Due to this, the High King was forced to admit that it would be beneficial for his love�s safety to have another protecting him when he was not around.

Gil-galad knew Elrond was often lonely but his duty did not allow him to spend more time with him. Seeing how cheerful his love had become after so many years, he had to relent to their friendship though he kept a close eye on them constantly.

Without remorse, Gil-galad kicked the young elf�s chest several times. Glorfindel jerked awake and drew into a tight ball, protecting himself but a last kick shattered the bones on one of his forearms. The sickening crunch was followed almost immediately with a strangled cry.

Instead of stopping the abuse, Gil-galad grabbed a clump of sweat soaked hair and yanked it up harshly. A whimper emitted from an already raw throat. Still Glorfindel did not fight back or cower away. He knew he deserved every punishment bestowed on him. It was his fault that he had failed.

While gazing at the sad and fear-stricken eyes, Gil-galad suddenly discovered a beautiful face. Despite the tears and permanent melancholic features, Glorfindel was innocent looking, one that made others trust him easily. He now understood why Elrond had chosen friendship with this one.

Strangely, it made the King feel otherwise. Without warning, he punched the delicate face, leaving a red mark. As his hand was still on the blond tresses, the elf only reeled slightly to one side.

Then a thought formed in Gil-galad�s mind. He dragged the helpless elf to the bed that his dead lover used to share with him just days ago and threw him onto it. Glorfindel moaned numbly from the pain on his forearm.

When his leggings were being ripped away, it caused a panic in Glorfindel. This was one punishment he would never submit to. He tried to scramble away but with the injuries he had sustained, it was easy for the other elf to pin him down. He lay helplessly as he felt fingernails raking his thighs and hips while the cloth was being removed.

The sight of the smooth buttocks excited Gil-galad quickly. Grabbing the wriggling form, he had only one thing in mind, causing the most injurious pain he could on the helpless form under him. Lowering himself hastily, he impaled from behind cruelly, earning a heart-wrenching scream from the very core of the wretched elf.

It was sweet music to his ears and that gave him a sense of satisfaction. He wanted more and succeeded in eliciting it in the most horrendous method. Nothing was restrained and no mercy was spared.

Gil-galad stopped pumping and sat up. Taking hold of his wrists, Gil-galad pulled them behind the elf and tied them tightly with his own torn leggings. It earned more cries of pain from the blond elf as he heard the shattered bones inside his arms grating sickeningly.

Once done, he continued to grind and impale him brutally while not forgetting to humiliate him with cruel words. Tired of the same position, Gil-galad pulled out and turned the wet and slippery body around before thrusting in again.

This time, Glorfindel received pain from two places, his torn hole and his injured arm because the weight from his own body and his assaulter combined had crushed it down against the bed and not only that, was constantly grinded back and forth as Gil-galad rammed into him.

The blinding pain had paralyzed Glorfindel completely and the only thing that he could do was blink his eyes. Gil-galad was a well-endowed elf and he briefly wondered how Elrond managed to couple with him. Even though Glorfindel was an experienced elf, he had had only one lover who never hurt him. This merciless act had taken him by surprise.

He did not know how long Gil-galad had stayed on top of him but he remembered that when he opened his eyes again, lights flooded around him, and he felt he was being physically dragged away again.

Once they stopped moving, Gil-galad pushed him down on a clearing of green grass. Curious elves began to gather and more kept coming. Sprawled on the ground, Glorfindel lay slightly dazed while nursing his broken arm.

Everyone could see the dishevelled elf was exhausted almost beyond recognition and the dried blood that was smeared all over his body, as well as a few black bruises that were appalling. There was also no hiding what the King had done to him in his tent last night in addition to the screams and cries that had kept the entire camp awake.

Embarrassed by his compromised state, Glorfindel tried to cover himself as much as he could. He looked around and recognised many of the elves that had gathered.

"Anyone who wishes to take a turn with him may do so. However, I want him alive after this," the King declared and then walked away.

Many elves�Ejaws dropped in disbelief, including Glorfindel�s. However, several others were overjoyed by this piece of luck. Glorfindel noticed the few familiar faces that were painted with hungry lust. He gulped several times, knowing he could not escape this punishment. These elves were the same ones that had tried to bed him on several occasions.

After the rest had filed out, Glorfindel had counted almost fifteen that stayed back. One came forward and stood at the end of his feet.

"Seems like I get what I wanted after all," he sneered.

The blond elf was terrified to meet this one. He had been trying very hard several times to corner him on a deserted corridor but Glorfindel had been able to escape each time. Twice, this same elf had boldly tried to grope him in full view of other elves and visiting dignitaries during a party by pretending to be drunk.

"Please don�t, Morethir. Please don�t do this. You knew why I didn�t bed with anyone," Glorfindel rasped, trying to make his voice heard. He swallowed several times to wet his throat and hopefully his voice would sound better after this.

"Yes. You were busy humping that half-elf," the arrogant elf scoffed.

"That�s not true. Elrond was my closest friend. I would never dishonor him. You just couldn�t understand that I was still grieving for my dead lover and I was not ready to accept a new lover. You just wanted my body," the blond elf retorted angrily.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw several elves walk away. He recognised them. They were the ones who had truly loved him and he felt sorry for being unable to return their genuine affections.

When the elf started to move for him, Glorfindel turned to run away but two other elves came out and pinned him to the ground. He struggled furiously but the elf holding his broken arm, buried it deeper into the ground, causing a numbing pain shooting through his entire arm.

Through his pain-dazed mind, he saw the hatred elf pull down his leggings and begin stroking himself, grinning evilly. When ready, he kicked his legs apart and lay on top of him. Without any preparation or pity, he penetrated the struggling form underneath him.

"Ai, by the Valar, I had only imagined you to be this tight!" The brown haired elf panted heavily and pumped even faster. "Ai, ai�EGlorfindel, I want to take you forever!" he called out even louder, making the two elves holding the blond elf snicker.

Glorfindel did not know how many elves had taken him before he lost consciousness entirely.
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Glorfindel woke up and found himself lying on a nice, soft bed. The room was almost bare and white washed but did not exude an ill sense. He noticed the window was opened and some breeze was blowing in, fluttering the thin curtains.

A movement caught the corner of his eyes and when he turned he saw a dark-haired elf studying him intently. His gaze was so intense that Glorfindel averted his eyes away.

"Where am I?" Glorfindel finally asked after sometime of awkward silence.

"In a healing chamber," answered the other elf.

Glorfindel looked at the elf seated beside him. He had an arrogant and noble feature. The rich red robe he was wearing indicated he was someone of high importance.

"How did I get here?" Glorfindel asked again.

"Don�t you remember?" asked the other elf. Glorfindel shook his head. "You�re in Imladris," he answered.

A frown appeared on the blonde�s face. The name meant nothing to him. In fact, his mind was completely blank.

"I don�t�E. remember�E. Imladris," said Glorfindel quietly.

This time he tried to get up but could not when he discovered his arm was bandaged and he could not move it. To his embarrassment, he was naked underneath the cover.

Then the blond elf realised somethingt cat caused him to panic. He could not remember what was his name. He looked around the room frantic and at the elf beside him again, trying to find a clue to regain his memory.

Finally defeated, he looked up with a pleading feature. "Who am I?"

Gil-galad did not answer immediately. He was puzzled at first by this new behaviour. May be the young elf was too traumatized that he had actually forgotten everything?

"Do you remember Elrond?"

Again, Glorfindel shook his head, flipping his loose blond locks left and right, and his frown deepened.

"You�re my Elrond now," Gil-galad said finally. It felt very right to him and wanted to stake his claim first.

The name had meant nothing to the blond because he could not remember anything but he was glad that someone could tell him his name. May be this elf will help him to regain his former memories; he seemed nice enough.
THE END
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