Adult-FanFiction.org : Lord of the Rings

Stolen	By : squirrelchaser Category: -Multi-Age > Slash - Male/Male Views: 13305 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- 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-Stolen
- 2-Two
- 3-Three
- 4-Four
- 5-five
- 6-Six
- 7-Seven
- 8-eight
- 9-nine
- 10-ten
- 11-11
- 8
- 9
- 10
The
weeks before the birth were as physically incapacitating as before and I was
bedridden, but overall much better. Glorfindel devoted himself to my care,
which at times was smothering but he was anxious to please and I did my best to
reassure him that he was doing a good job. To pass the sedentary days he and I
would weave fantastic tales, much the same as Adar and I had before, or he
would tell me of the splendor of Gondolin.
I
will never tire of hearing his descriptions of the city, or the might of the
warriors and the valor of the kings. Then, when he would finish and his eyes
would grow distant with a slight smile, I touched his face to marvel silently
at this being who spanned the ages before touching my belly and wonder at the
might of this warrior to be.
He
did not find my changing body distasteful or make the fatal mistake of
comparing it to a female�s. He is strong both mentally and physically, and both
helped me through the second labor. He did not balk at the blood or the pain,
he held me and encouraged, and whispered, �Push,� when he felt a contraction
coming on.
To
distract myself from the discomfort of birth, I instead watched his face and
clutched at his wrists, successfully captivating his full attention until the
head crowned. When that happened he froze, entranced, and his jaw went slightly
slack and his lips parted, letting out a soft gasp of, �Oh!�
Glorfindel
was the first to hold the baby after Elrond delivered him. His eyes grew very wide
and he was silent as our new son squalled and flailed tiny curled hands, the bald
head looking so tiny and strange in the crook of Glorfindel�s arm.
Elrond
caught my eye and we both grinned through our fatigue.
�Here,�
I said, and held out my arms.
Glorfindel
relinquished the baby reluctantly and watched as he began to suckle.
�Well?�
Elrond prompted, and Glorfindel shook his head.
�Two
lives could not have prepared me for anything like this,� he croaked, and shook
his head again. I could tell he was happy.
We
named him Dagorion, which means literally �son of battle.� ***
***Name and
interpretation is from Encyclopedia of Arda
Elrond
was a healer but also a worker of magic. He worked his spells about Dagorion so
that he would grow quickly, the same way that Sauron was preparing Thranduil.
The day after his birth Elrond gave me a potion, which coated the sides of the
blue glass bottle it was contained in.
�It
shall not harm him,� Elrond said reassuringly. �Dip your finger in it and drop
a little on his tongue before you feed him, three times a day.�
Hesitantly
I uncorked the top, and let a milky drip fall on Dagorion�s tiny bowed mouth.
Dagorion
squirmed, wrinkling his nose and I shuddered as the first bits of magic wound
their way around my second son. But it had to be done and only good things
would come of it.
He
grew quickly in mind and body, singing rather than speaking his first phrase.
He grew too quickly for my liking, for I reveled in the dimply hands that did
not have to bear a sword and a bow. The first day he walked on his own and
wandered off we found him in one of Glorfindel�s rooms, sitting and staring at
the broadsword that was sheathed and perched in the corner.
Sitting
on the floor I took him on my lap, and Glorfindel took up his sword. �Look,� he
said, drawing the blade and holding it in front of him. �Careful,� he said
softly as Dagorion extended one little hand out and placed it on the flat of
the blade, stroking his fingers down the blood channel.
Dagorion�s
eyes were solemn and wiser looking than any baby should look. He coveted that
sword, staring after it and other weapons so fiercely it frightened Glorfindel
and me until he was grown enough to wield them with skill.
I
reveled in the time we spent together. I adored watching him grow and learn as
we talked beneath the trees of the valley, much in the same way that Adar and I
would sit and talk under the trees of Mirkwood.
He
lay in the grass with his head in my lap, still very young when he asked, �Ada [daddy], where are you from?�
The
question plopped out of the air, like an acorn falling from a tree. �Why?� I
said, trying to make light of the subject as I thought of a proper answer. I
coiled the light strands of hair around one finger, now just beginning to lose
their baby-fine softness, wondering if I could tell him yet of his grandsire.
Dagorion
shrugged. �I know of Gondolin, of Mandos. But no one ever told me of you. Tell
me now, please.�
Inwardly
I sighed. It was such a simple plea with such a complicated answer. �Well, my
name means Greenleaf,� I said. �Where do you think I am from?�
My
son looked pleased with this riddle and thought for a moment. �The gardens,� he
suggested.
�Well,
maybe a little farther away,� I indulged, smiling. �What if I told you I was
from a forest, far away, across the mountains shrouded with mist�� My thought broke off and I suddenly realized how much I
missed Mirkwood, with the light filtering down through the trees to cast
dappled patterns on the sweet smelling ground.
�A
forest,� Dagorion repeated thoughtfully, lisping slightly from his missing baby
teeth. �I like trees. Beech the best, and then oak.�
�Truly
you are of the woodelves, my kin.� I said softly, and something ached a little.
He
must have sensed it for a look crossed his face, as if he had been rebuked, and
he said timidly, �I am sorry Ada. I did not want to make you cry.�
�I
will not cry,� I said quickly, though my eyes pricked. �I am not sad. I am glad
that you have the mind to ask such things.�
�Someday
when I am older and grown, we will go there,� he said.
�You
will grow fast enough,� I assured him, and grow he did.
At
maturity Dagorion was taller than both Glorfindel and me by an inch, with
Glorfindel�s broader frame but the nimbleness that my woodland kin are renowned
for. His hair was golden, paler than Glorfindel�s but deeper than mine, his
eyes were the same deep blue of Glorfindel�s set in the bird-like structure of
my face. He was equally skilled at both sword play and archery, and like my
Adar favored carrying a large spear on the hunt. Dagorion loved song, music,
and cooking, so when he was not vested in fighting he
and Lindir went into the kitchens and sang like the birds as they prepared
great quantities of food, which they promptly consumed.
�It
is different for you, is it not?� Dagorion asked me suddenly one day, as we sat
and I re-strung my bow.
�What
is different?� I asked, offhandedly.
�You and Adar, Glorfindel. Your marriage is unlike all the others; it
feels different.�
I
lowered my work, not understanding what he was driving at.
�I
am different,� Dagorion continued sincerely. �I know this. But I do not mind
it.�
�You
are you,� I said slowly, unsure of how to reply. �And Glorfindel and I are
different than most marriages.�
�I
shall not marry,� he declared boldly, tossing his head.
�Very
well,� I smiled. �As you wish. But what shall you do?
What do you wish to do?�
�Fight,�
Dagorion replied. �Forever, though it is a terrible thing to need to do battle.
But I love the clash of metal on metal, Adar. I love it and cannot live without
it! Is that so wrong of me?�
�Not
if it is what you were born to do,� I said, but something tugged at my heart.
My son was bred and raised to fight�but what else? What would there be for him
after the impending battle?
Quickly
I reminded myself there may not be anything after Sauron�s forces swept out of
the Dark Tower.
But
indeed, he sensed his destiny. Dagorion learned quicker than any other and
burned with a hunger to grip a sword, glare down the shaft of an arrow at a
target, and lead a charge into battle. There was a cool, calm gleam of wisdom
in his eye that Glorfindel commented that he had seen in only the Captains of
Gondolin.
�He
reminds me of Ecthelion,� Glorfindel said as we stood in the outskirts of a
courtyard, watching Dagorion thrash two of Imladris� finest guards in
swordplay.
�Ecthelion of the Fountain?� I questioned, having read the ancient
account many times.
�Yes,
and the Keeper of the Gates,� Glorfindel added, and smiled to himself. �A dear friend, and the greatest warrior of Gondolin. But,� he
added, lowering his voice. �I think he is even greater. Dagorion is the best I
have ever seen.�
I
bit my lip and wondered how he compared to my other son.
Five
years passed before the darkness began to march out of Southern Mirkwood. Men and elves began to flee to Imladris,
bearing tales that confirmed the worst of my fears: Sauron was on the move, and
with him there was a fair one who led the orcs to ravage everything that moved
under the sun.
He
took L�rien first, his announcement and warning to the rest of Middle-earth. It
took him several months and the elves that escaped said his army was wounded
greatly, but in the end the Golden Wood burned to the ground. Then he fanned
out over the South, crushing the cities of men then taking all the lands to the
East of us.
�He
is waiting for us to be last,� Elrond said, and then he looked at me. �Somehow,
he knows you are here. I feel it.�
I
shivered and hoped that Elrond was wrong, but knew better than to doubt his
intuition.
Elrond
bid his time as the rest of Middle-earth began to crumble under the Dark Lord�s
shadow until only Imladris remained, waiting for what
we knew would eventually come.
It
came in the still of one bright afternoon. Patrol came
riding into Imladris, calm on the outside but there was urgency in the slight
tightness in their lips as they came to where Elrond and I were sitting.
The
leader was tall and her fair face was grim as she stood before us. �My lord,�
she said in a low voice. �They come for us.�
Sauron�s
forces were less than half a day from the Valley, and our plans quickly fell
into action. We would ride out to meet them, and drive them back to the Misty Mountains if possible. If the battle did not go in
our favor where we would be forced into the Valley, then at length back into
the House.
I
was nervous � this was, after all, the first battle I was ever to participate
in � but with a guilty feeling I realized I also anticipated seeing the enemy.
I wanted to see my first son more than anything. I was in the armory with
Glorfindel, the two of us donning our protection silently, when Dagorion�s
voice and footsteps carried through the door.
�Adar!�
he cried, sweeping through the door as he addressed me. �Lord Elrond says we
shall ride out within the hour?�
Glorfindel
and I gave a single nod.
His
eyes blazed and his lips tightened, and Glorfindel put a hand on the small of
my back. Destiny had become now. �Come,� I replied, and held up his silver
studded girders.
Glorfindel
and I dressed Dagorion for war, exchanging glances every so often. Dagorion�s
eyes were bright, his jaw was set, and his mouth pursed, standing calm but
coiled and ready like a spring. He was ready to rush out and meet his fate,
whatever it may be. Sword at his side, quiver on his back, and spear in hand, Dagorion
stood before us, deep blue cloak clasped at his breast with a shining silver
star.
�I
will meet you at the gates shortly,� Glorfindel said quietly, and I could hear
the slightest of trembles in his tone.
Dagorion
nodded and swept out of the room.
�This
day was long coming, Glorfindel,� I murmured, not looking at him.
Glorfindel
put one hand on my shoulder. �I wonder what shall come at the end of it,� he
said. He was worried for the both of us.
�Yes,�
I said, kissed him, and went to join ranks with the other archers.
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- 9
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