Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

The Returned	By : Liliana Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 8591 -:- 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
- 16
- 17
- 18
Please note that the disclaimer and warnings for this story are given at the begining of the first chapter.
Author Notes: My apologies for the lateness in updating. I was doing volunteer work in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and then got laid low by a bad cold. What I had written of this chapter, while under medication, turned out to be such junk that I had to start all over again!.
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CHAPTER 17:
Elrond stood by the largest window in his private study, his face sad as he looked at his sons who were, in turn, staring out into the gardens below.
The lord exhaled a soft sigh. Elladan and Elrohir had only just arrived, after decades out in the wilds hunting the very creatures that Erandir now shared a measure of kingship with. And so, well aware of the impending shock the twins were about to receive, he had dispatched a guard to escort them directly to the study, via the fastest interior route in the Last Homely House.
He had watched their expressions go from puzzlement over the hasty summons, to unabashed joy as he told them that Erandir had been found, to deep anger over the circumstances surrounding his discovery. Then he had led them to the window, were he saw their anger descend into incredulity, revulsion and finally, horror...
~~~~~~~~~~
Unaware of the scrutiny from above, Erestor sat upon a stone bench at the far side of the vast gardens, reading out loud from a book of ancient poetry to the large form laying on the lush grass, but a few hand-spans from his feet.
In sharp contrast to the advisor's stately robes, Erandir's broad chest was covered only by a sleeveless vest, fastened with two ties down the front. Likewise, his lower body was clad in loose, abreviated leggings that came down to mid-thigh, leaving the rest of his muscular legs bare, for he wore neither slippers nor boots on his feet. Only his hair bore the mark of elven grooming, having been neatly braided away from his temples.
Almost five weeks had passed since Erandir's first morning back in Imladris. Yet despite all efforts by Erestor, Glorfindel, Elrond and even Erunis, he could not tolerate the full covering of elven rainment and he adamantly refused to use any footwear, whatsoever. Thus, giving up, garments had been commisioned that while not exactly modest, were at least serviceable for the purpose of decency.
It was not the only instance where their efforts had proven futile.
While Erandir was re-learning some things with alactricity, many others seemed hopelessly beyond his ken. He could tie the lacings of his vest and breeches, but the use of eating utensils frustrated him completely. He could understand simple commands, but long sentences caused his eyes to glaze over with incomprehension. He could take a charcoal stick and create haunting drawings, but could not ply a quill to write even the simplest runes, much less the delicate Tengwar script. He could lay for hours and -as he was doing with Erestor- listen raptly to the sound of an elven voice reading out loud, but he was unable to read any words for himself.
His social behavior, likewise, seemed stunted. Despite his large and imposing physique, he was very submissive in the presence of the shorter, slighter elves. Yet he had no concept of privacy and would open any door, wonder into any chamber, occassionally elliciting startled shrieks from an unsuspecting -and sometimes only partially dressed- elleth. And though he could move with incredible stealth, more often than not he was like a Mamukil set loose in a room full of crystals. Yet all within the Last Homely House forgave his unintentional uncouthness, their forbearance coming from hearts that were filled by pity, in light of what they thought was his greatest tragedy.
For Erandir could not speak...and would never again be able to.
~~~~~~~~~~
Inside the study, the grey eyes of the twins turned from the peaceful scene in the gardens back towards their adar, who had just finished telling them this heartbreaking news. To the eldar, the gift of voice was one of the great blessings bestowed by Illuvitar and to have it so cruelly taken away...
" Never?." Elladan asked, his own voice choked.
" Is there no hope?." Elrohir spoke, simultaneously.
Elrond sighed again. He could see their horror transmutting into hopeless denial. The same denial he had seen in Erestor's face, when he had first spoken to the advisor about Erandir's condition. Bidding his sons to come away from the window, the lord led them to the sitting area, where he began to explain that which he had gleaned from the mind of his patient.
" The evil process involved in the creation of the Uruk-Hai, differs from the baser tactics used in the making of orcs." Elrond began, willing himself to keep a steady tone in spite of the visceral reaction the subject instilled in elvenkind. " The captured elves that became progenitors to the orcish race, were turned to such by the extensive use of torture applied to body, mind and fea. Until they were twisted and mutilated not only into hideous form, but also into nearly mindless obedience. But that mindlessness proved to be a great detriment and so, the Dark Lord set about creating a higher caste of orc. One that would not only be far more powerful, but that would also possess the intelligence to lead his lesser minions. In order to accomplish such a thing, more elves were captured. Though back in the turbulent centuries preceeding the end of the Second Age, the task proved more difficult. Our kind had learned of the true origins of the orcs and we would fight to the death, rather than risk being taken alive."
Elrond's face became a grim mask, as he remembered the brutal battles of those times. And when he again took up the narrative, it was with a harsher voice.
" It was during the years of the Last Alliance that we first encountered the Uruk-Hai. And they were indeed a far more fearsome foe than the lower orcs. But they were not so many in number and when the Dark Lord was defeated, we thought them gone, along with the rest of his foul army. Not until the orcs began to be seen again, did we realize that some of the Uruks had also survived. Yet how they came into being, continued to be a vexing question, until Erandir's arrival..."
Elrond rubbed one hand onto his brow, trying in vain to stem the sudden barrage of images that would forever be imprinted in his mind's eye. And his distress was such that it became an almost palpable thing within the confines of the study.
" Adar?." Elrohir querried softly, placing one hand upon Elrond's sleeve, a gesture that was repeated by his twin.
" Adar, you do not have to force yourself to speak of it."
As he said those words, Elladan locked gazes with Elrohir, both reaching a silent agreement. Then Elladan spoke again.
" Show us instead."
" Nay, ion!." Elrond exclaimed, horrified by the very thought of subjecting them to the foulness he had encountered within Erandir's mind.
Yet...had he not done that exact thing at Glorfindel's request?. Had he not deemed it wise that the Balrog Slayer, who was charged with the defense of Imladris, should know the precise nature of the threat brewing inside the rotted heart of Mordor?. As if reading these thoughts, Elladan pressed on.
" Adar, we lost the last of our innocence on the day we carried our naneth's broken body away from that orc-lair. We hunt these vile creatures. And we need to know." He finished, his eyes and those of Elrohir like brittle glass from the fury they both had barely kept in check, since that tragic day.
The Lord of Imladris looked at his sons. Aye, they were no longer innocent. Their wrath at what had been done to Celebrian had set them on a path of vengeance. Already, they had been gone for nearly all of the last hundred years and Elrond knew that soon, they would leave again. This time for much, much longer.
" Give me your hands." He said...
~~~~~~~~~~
Erestor stopped mid-sentence, looking up from the pages of the book he had been reading out loud when he heard Erandir utter the growl he had come to recognize as his brother's form of greeting. And he felt his heartbeat unwittingly quicken, as he saw the Balrog Slayer approach.
Over the last five weeks, the frozen layer that had so hardened the advisor's heart against his mate, was slowly begining to melt away. Glorfindel's open affection towards Erandir had been a key factor in allaying the understandable fears of the residents of the Last Homely House, thus gaining their quick acceptance. The legendary warrior had also willingly and dilligently taken up a large share in the demanding task of caring for what was, essentially, one very large elfling.
It was for that purpose that he now approached the two in the gardens. For the last couple of weeks, Glorfindel had taken Erandir to spend the afternoons at the barracks, thus giving Erestor some much-needed time to concentrate on his duties as chief advisor. It was but one of many such thoughtful gestures. And even though Erestor had, at first, bitterly thought them to be nothing more than Glorfindel's insulting attempt at assuagating his guilt, he had come to realize that love was the true motivation behind his estranged mate's actions.
But in truth, Erestor had always know that to be so. Glorfindel had loved Erandir almost from the moment he had first seen him arrive in Imladris, as an elfling. Just as he had loved Erestor, himself, from the moment of their first meeting long ago, in Gondolin. The advisor had simply chosen to forget this, chanelling his overwhelming pain in the wake of Erandir's disappearance, into a blast of misguided blame towards the one elf who would have helped him heal his broken heart. Furthermore, he had ignored Glorfindel's own sorrow, denying his lover the succor of his arms.
Aye, if guilt and blame were to assigned, then Erestor knew he deserved a large measure of both. And he knew also that it would be up to him to set matters aright. Thus, after the golden-haired warrior politely retrieved an eager Erandir and then turned to walk away, Erestor took the plunge.
" Glorfindel." He called out, softly.
The Balrog Slayer froze in mid-stride, sure that his mind was playing tricks on him, for Erestor had not said his name in nearly a hundred years. Then he heard it again, and slowly turned back to face his beloved.
" Erestor?."
The tentative tone of that querry nearly made the advisor cry for beneath it, he could hear all the hopeless longing in Glorfindel's wounded heart. Erestor's dark eyes shone with shy tenderness and his voice became equally tentative, as he continued.
" Tomorrow is a rest day and I though I would take Erandir out for a swim and a picnic by the shores of the Bruinen. I also thought...that is, I wonder...if you have no other plans..."
Erestor stopped himself, then took a deep breath.
" Would you like to join us?..."
~~~~~~~~~~
Back inside the study, Elladan and Elrohir were shakily sipping from the globets of Miruvor that Elrond had placed in their hands. The visions that their adar had shared with them had been truly horrifying, yet the one image playing over and over in their minds was, for them, the most troubling of all. It was the image of a hellish cavern, seen through the terrified eyes of a still-elven Erandir, as he was dragged into a fetid pit where dozens upon dozens of egg-shaped coccoons rested atop the brackish mud.
This then, was what Erandir had become. There would be no salvation for him, no reprieve. He would evermore be a creature caught between darkness and light. Neither elf, nor Uruk-Hai. And the twins could not help but wonder if their adar had made a mistake in sending that message to Mirkwood. For neither doubted that Legolas would come...
TBC...
- 16
- 17
- 18
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The Returned