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Glorfindel Unleashed	By : crossstitcherire Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 7551 -:- 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.

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Title : 'Glorfindel Unleashed', 3/?
Author: Eawen Penallion
Type: FPS
Beta: Beloved Nienna, so encouraging!
Disclaimer: all rights to the characters belong to JRR Tolkien � I�m only playing with them.
Rating: (PG13 for this chapter, NC-17 overall)
Pairing: Glorfindel/Erestor in later chapters
Warnings: M/M, implied child abuse, angst, character death

Author�s notes: Author's notes: AU as in it is my idea, but canon where possible with regard to LOTR history. Please note - I subscribe to a very moral position and Tolkien's ethics regarding underage elves. There will be NO illicit carnal connotations in this story.

Summary : When Glorfindel becomes a child�s protector, he does not realise what Erestor will be to him when he reaches majority. Can love survive the trials of death and destiny?

***Warning for this chapter � Evidence of child abuse, not explicit***
Chapter 3

F.A. 470

If you did not know Glorfindel well you would have noticed no difference in the golden lord�s demeanour. Ecthelion knew him well, and noted the changes with dismay. No more did he see that brilliant smile; or hear the resounding laugh; or feel the power and concentration in battle that Glorfindel normally imbued in his sparring sessions. All were gone, and the golden lord was a shadow. His outward face was the same but his heart was in the House of the Harp, in the keeping of a small boy called Erestor.

Why this should be so Ecthelion could not understand. Glorfindel had had many partners, light flirtations with ellyn and ellith, but had never shown the slightest inclination to settle down, wed and raise a family. At the age when most elves thought of love, the age that Iluvatar had appointed as shortly after majority, Glorfindel had been fighting for his life. Glorfindel and Ecthelion had been among the host that had traversed the Helcarax�; that grinding, freezing waste of crushing ice and snow. Survival was all that mattered, and the survivors had rejoiced that they still lived. The centuries following had been times of starvation, toil and fear. The endless battles; the fall of Fingon; the constant attacks by Melkor�s minions had pushed aside the need or opportunity to procreate for so many warriors. Only the past three hundred years and the relative peace and safety of Gondolin had allowed the elves to resume that which might otherwise have been thought of as a �normal life�.

So far Glorfindel had not found that one, ellon or elleth, who was the other half of his soul. Yet he obviously wanted a child, one who would love him unconditionally and it seemed he had found him in Erestor.

Until he had lost him.

Glorfindel had not given up easily. He had tried to make good on his promise to Erestor, had visited the House of the Harp with books and treats and toys for the boy � but there had always been an excuse. The boy is sleeping. The boy is at his lessons. The boy is indisposed. Always he had been refused entrance until finally he had been called before the king and, after protest from Salgant, been told to stop his �harassment� of the boy and his aunt. Thus he was effectively barred from that which he longed for most.

Ecthelion knew that Glorfindel wasn�t alone in his sorrow. Mirieth had taken hare loe loss of the boy, for she saw it as a failure to her lord. Her niece too was saddened, for the sweetness of Erestor had endeared him to her heart. Thus they were a triad, feeding off one another in their grief so that none may heal; and Glorfindel was worst.

The Lord of the House of the Fountain had thus taken it upon himself to support his friend and to turn his thoughts elsewhere.

* * * *

Glorfindel sighed. He could cheerfukillkill Ecthelion. Quickly of course, he wasn�t cruel. Still, death was on the cards for the dark-haired lord. Perhaps he could drown him in one of his own fountains? No, too long. Impale him upon the spike of his own helm? Now *that* was an idea. Very delightful to contemplate. Much more so than another of these interminable �entertainments� Ecthelion had organised for him. Not that it was presented as such. Just lots and lots of eligible ellyn and ellith who would just *love* to become �friends� with the golden lord, who flattered and pouted and wanted to� comfort him. Beautiful, desirable, elegant and utterly boring. On second thought, death was too good for �Thel. He�d just lock him in this room with these twittering idiots for a few days and see how *he* liked it.

�Thank you so much for your observations, you are very wise.� Glorfindel didn�t know and didn�t care what the elleth had been blithering on about but from the look on her face as he strode away he hadn�t given the appropriate answer. Tough. He approached his friend through the milling throngs gracing the ball.

� �Thel, I�ll take my leave of you now. It has been a long day and�� His voice trailed off, for he didn�t even have the will to make an excuse. Ecthelion hesitated as if deciding whether to remonstrate with him, then simply laid a hand upon his shoulder.

�Maer d�, meldir,� he said simply, and watched with sad eyes as Glorfindel exited his halls.

The night air was brisk and laden with the promise of more snow as Glorfindel stepped out into the street. It was now late winter, and three months had passed since� Glorfindel shook his head as if trying to break the train of his thoughts. Was he always going to hearken back to that day in Salgant�s council chamber? It was over. It was finished. Life moves on.

The golden lord was startled when he saw where his feet had led him. Not to his bedchambers, warm with the heat from the open fire, aglow with the light from the many candles. Not to the large-framed bed, blankets with a green coverlet embroidered with the golden celandine of his House.

He sat heavily on the grass in the shadowed corner of his garden, playing with the mithril ring upon his finger, caring not that the snow was wet and cold. He did not look to his side but straight across the darkened lawns of his house. If he looked straight ahead he could pretend that a little bundle of rags sat beside him.

He doubled up hat hat thought, dry sobs escaping from his heaving chest. Stop it, he admonished himself. No more. How long he sat he didn�t know but he was pulled from his solitude when he heard shouts from behind him. He turned, surprised to see Mirieth running across the snow, long skirts flying.

�My lord!� she called. �I have news!� She gasped to a halt in front of him. �I have news � of Erestor!� Her tone was frantic and Glorfindel lurched in despair. He grasped at her shoulders to steady her but let her continue without prompting, for she needed none.

�I have been visiting with a friend in the House of the Hammer and he has a lady friend, a love who is of the House of the Harp, I confided in him of our troubles some months past. His beloved is a servant in her House and they have been passing onto me any news of Erestor.�

�Why did you not tell me before?� asked Glorfindel. He would have given anything for news of his little one and Mirieth knew that full well. The elleth shook her head.

�There was naught really to tell. A child�s voice heard here, a sighting there � just enough to tell me he was well. Aerwroth is not a person to be crossed and this elleth did not want to jeopardise her position but � a week ago she heard cries from Aerwroth�s rooms. A child�s screams. She alerted her superior but was told to hold her tongue. She has passed these rooms again and heard whimpering, then - since two days ago � nothing. She did not see her lover until this morning, and I him tonight. Oh my lord, what has she done to our little boy?� Her face crumpled in torment at the thoughts that crossed her mind.

The rage was overwhelming. It was liken to the battle rage Glorfindel experienced in war and, as at those times, his instinct sharpened. The orders came quickly.

� Collect D�wen and send a messenger to Lord Ecthelion. Tell him to meet me at the House of the Harp, for I will be in need of a witness to my acts this night. Go, do as I ask and meet me at the main door.�

Glorfindel raced to his rooms where he stopped only to collect his broadsword. No one would stand in his way tonight.

Their passage to the House of the Harp was swift, for the streets were almost deserted at this late hour, yet it was not so late that the doors of the house were barred. Nevertheless, an elf bearing arms was not to be borne. Lord or no, Glorfindel was challenged.

�Hold my lord, whisasisaster has happened that brings you here so armed?� cried the captain, motioning his men to cut off the entrance. Glorfindel growled, a primal sound that struck fear into the men�s hearts yet they moved to obey their captain.

�Let me pass, Tawaron, my business is with your master and with the elleth Aerwroth. Escort me if you will, for what I go to see must be witnessed by more than one. If you know the way to Aerwroth�s chambers I beg of your mercy, lead me there � at once.�

Tawaron did not hesitate, for he knew of that which had passed between Glorfindel and Salgant at their last meeting, and he had no love for Aerwroth. Furthermore, he was a father and had felt for the boy.

�This way, my lord.� Tawaron lead them through the darkened corridors of the house, Glorfindel following, and Mirieth and D�wen behind. They halted before an oak door, stout � but if looks could kindle fire, this would have been ashes in seconds. Glorfindel pounded upon it. There was noise as in the drawing back of bolts and the door slowly swung open. Glorfindel did not hesitate. Pushing past the servant he marched into the room. Aerwroth stood before him.

�Where is the boy?� he snarled. Aerwroth tried to stand firm.

�This is an outrage�� she began but got no further as the tip of the giant sword pressed under her chin.

�Now, where is the boy?� Glorfindel repeated. The elleth was too stricken with fear to answer, to respond in any way, but the servant pointed to a door in the right hand wall of the room and the corridor beyond. Glorfindel made his down the passage, flinging the doors wide in his search. He came to the last, which was locked. Not waiting for a key, he flung his shoulder at it, cracking the lock.

The room was cold, deathly cold for no fire was lit to salve the winter frost. Though bearable for an adult elf it would be bitter for a child combined with the dankness of the air. It was dark, and a stench permeated the chamber. Glorfindel called for a light. At that moment Ecthelion arrived, tumbling through the door in his obvious haste.

�I�m sorry, I was delayed - oh, Varda�s mercy!� he exclaimed in horror as the light was brought to bear on the room�s contents.

The cause of the stench was quickly obvious. A bucket had obviously been used as a privy, and was filled to overflowing. A dishpan was filled with water that was in no way fresh and a plate bore evidence of mouldy crusts of bread. Ecthelion turned to Aerwroth, who cowered at the entrance to the room, his eyes wide with disgust and amazement.

�Vile creature, what have you done?� he breathed.

Glorfindel took no notice as he turned to the mean bed, a threadbare blanket draped upon it and a black bundle upon that in turn. A stride and he knelt beside it, hand hovering over the tiny figure, dread binding his heart. He knew he could wait no longer and that every moment could count. Gently, as if stroking a butterfly, he lifted the lacklustre strands of hair from the boy�s face.

�Erestor?� His voice cracked, his throat clogged with sobs and tears he had no time to shed. �Pen-neth, can you hear me?�

The moment halted, time seemed to stand still as all held their breath, then the eyes opened, thick dark lashes sweeping upwards to reveal those brown irises. They stared, no spark of intelligence in them, then suddenly they focused. The parched red lips opened, trying to form a word.

�Glo�fin�l�

Swiftly the golden lord stripped the boy of the filthy clothes, checking him for any broken bones. There seemed to be none, but plenty of bruises, fresh and old.

�Quickly, Mirieth, find some blankets, clean and warm. D�wen, a cup of fresh water please.�

The ellith hastened to do their lord�s bidding, horrified at the state of the child. Gently, Glorfindel coaxed Erestor to sip the water, soothing and cradling the child to his breast, who was now wrapped against the winter�s chill. A commotion in the outer rooms drew Ecthelion�s attention and he grimaced as he recognised the strident tones of Salgant.

�Glorfindel, you were warned - !� The Lord strode into the room then halted, his face screwed up against the noisome smell. The golden lord stood, holding his precious bundle against his chest.

�Aye,� he said, his voice flat, �I was warned and now I warn *you*. If anyone *dares* to try to take this child from me again he will see my sword at his throat - and feel it go through. I declare that this child, Erestor son of Galwion, is now a scion of the House of the Golden Flower and under *my* protection. For you have failed this child sorely and have forfeited all rights of control over him. Ecthelion of the Fountain, do you bear witness?�

Ecthelion nodded grimly. �I do, and I will go now to Turgon and inform him of the events of this night. Tawaron, I call upon you to escort me, for you too have been a witness to these foul deeds. Bring the elleth for she must stand forth for these crimes.� He leant down to retrieved Glorfindel�s sword, raising it high. At that Aerwroth screamed, fearing it was to be used against her. Tawaron only nodded to one of his guards to drag her away. He turned to Salgant, who had been protesting no knowledge of Aerwroth�s deeds.

�By your leave, my lord?� Salgant nodded, a cloth pressed to his nose. He looked nauseous and would put up no fight. Glorfindel pushed past him, intent on bringing his little one home.

* * * *

They cried that night, all of them, as they gently bathed and fed Erestor. Mirieth dipped sops of fresh bread into warm milk and Erestor took them eagerly, desperate for the nourishment. D�wen fetched clean clothes and salves for his bruises. Glorfindel cradled his boy, smoothing his hair, softly singing sweet songs. He turned his attention from Erestor only when Ecthelion arrived, followed by the king�s daughter, Idril Celebrindal. The ellith quickly curtseyed to the floor but Idril just smiled and waved for them to rise. Glorfindel did not move but simply nodded his head. He had known the princess for years beyond count and in private stood upon no ceremony with her. He turned to Ecthelion.

�What news?�

Ecthelion smiled.

�He is yours now, my friend. The King heard testimony from Tawaron and myself and has laid upon Aerwroth the punishment of imprisonment for at least fifty years. Salgant has received censure, though Maeglin argued that if Salgant didn�t know he could hardly be blamed. Rog pointed out that ignorance of the activities in his own House is hardly befitting a Lord. Meanwhile, our pen-neth is your responsibility from this night until the day of his majority.�

The princess knelt before the tired child taking one small hand in hers, stroking his face gently with the other.

�He is lovely, Glorfindel. To know that he has been the victim of such evil I can hardly bear to contemplate. I offer my protection as well, if you will allow it.� She looked up at the warrior, seeing gratitude and love for the child so evident in his eyes. �He will be the most loved child in all Gondolin, and probably the most spoilt too.�

Glorfindel chuckled. �Too true, eh pen-neth?�

There was no answer, for a glaze had come over those chocolate eyes and, with a thumb in his little mouth, Irmo took him into his garden of L�rien in the Land of Dreams.

Elvish:

ellyn � male elves (pl.)
ellith � female elves (pl.)
elleth � female elf (sing.)
maer d� � good night
meldir � my friend
pen-neth � little one
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Glorfindel Unleashed