![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
phynckeTitle: Elladan’s Light
Chapter: Chapter One
Author: phyncke
For: Elladansgirl - Slashy Valentine 2013
Character(s): Elladan/Glorfindel, Elrond, Erestor/Lindir
Beta: khylea
Rating: NC17 in later chapter
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours I hope.
Feedback: Much appreciated.
Summary: Elladan is given a journal and falls deeply in love. He mistakes a glance for amorous attention in the Hall of Fire and must sort things out. All is right in the end, have no fear.
Chapter One
Elladan remembered one Yuletide when he was an elfling. Along with the usual assortment of toys and scarves and clothing he received as gifts that year, he found a small, plainly wrapped package under the tree, tied simply with string. There was a piece of paper tucked into it, which read, in his father’s hastily scribbled hand,
“For Elladan – because your inner life is as important as the world without. Here you can record your thoughts and feelings. With love, Ada”
At that young age, Elladan did not know what his father meant but he kept the paper for later perusal. He saw that Elrohir had received the same package and probably the same note. Very often they received similar gifts, as twins. What worked for one, might work for the other. In this case they did receive the same journals though with different designs embossed on the leather covers. His had leaf patterns to evoke nature.
He leaned over Elrohir’s shoulder to see what his book looked like and saw that it had star patterns and was more celestial in its aspect. His own was dark, forest green while Elrohir’s was black as the night. Inside was hand-crafted paper. They were finely made journals suitable for the sons of the Lord of Imladris, fine volumes for their fine thoughts or so he imagined.
“My sons, you may write anything you wish in these journals – no matter how great or small and to any purpose. No one will look or check what you put in there. It is for your use alone, your own private thoughts and feelings. I myself keep a journal and I thought to pass this practice on to you so you can look back later in life and see what has come to pass.”
Both children nodded solemnly at Elrond, aware that he was imparting knowledge to them. They did not squirm or fret but listened with attentive care. They knew their father was wise and had lived through much in his life. Elladan wanted to be sure he understood and asked,
“So, we are to write on these pages whatever we want and no one will see?”
“No one but you.”
Elladan liked this idea. He liked it quite a bit. Sometimes he had thoughts competing in his mind for his attention. He welcomed having a place to put them. He mulled over the possibilities as he traced the leaf design with his fingers.
“Thank you, ada.” Both boys murmured in unison.
“You are very welcome.”
Some years pass…
/---/
I cannot escape the thought that I am in love with Glorfindel. I am fallen irrevocably and deeply in love with little hope of my feelings being returned. He is an elf of the light, from Aman, such a heroic being. I am so below his notice. I am nothing. I despair of ever being worthy of one such as he. I am not confused about my feelings. He is my light, he is my solace and yet I know not how to proceed. Could he ever feel the same way? Could he ever love one such as I?
I know not.
/---/
Through the long years of his life, as Elladan grew from a youngling to an adult elf, he found respite in the journal he wrote in a few times each week. He endeavored to write daily but sometimes he was too tired and would fall to sleep before he could pen his reflections. He would take it on patrols in the field and use a pencil on those entries instead of his ink and quill on his desk in the Last Homely House.
The journals were an outlet for his feelings and thoughts, large and small, generous or dark. He had learned long ago to scribe all that he felt and not to ruminate on undigested ideas. If he were mad at Elrohir, or irritated with his little sister, Arwen, he would write about it in his book. Once the thoughts were written down, he could leave them on their page or go back and think about them some more. He knew that this was what Elrond intended – for Elladan to contemplate his circumstance and chronicle his own life.
He never discussed the contents of his journal with anyone. It was a private matter. Some of the thoughts he wrote were selfish and mundane, ill-conceived or incomplete. He simply wrote what occurred to him without censure. He was not preparing an essay for his tutors so he did not polish the language or edit his ideas. These were his most intimate reflections. Sometimes he was mean; sometimes he was strident but he was always passionate. He felt things with a depth that was staggering. His journal helped him mitigate the tide of his emotions.
/---/
I am the happiest elf in all of Imladris, Arda, the world, the universe! I can scarce believe it. I am afraid to write about what happened for fear that it was all a dream and did not really occur at all. Though, I am compelled to write it down so I can confirm that it did. What a confused mess my heart is!
I now begin to hope that my sentiments are returned and that Glorfindel has feelings for me. I am in the clouds, may Manwë stop my fall. I can still feel the softness of his lips against mine and his sweet breath on my skin.
We were sparring as we usually do, with blunt wooden practice blades. We fought long and hard and I did my best to vanquish Glorfindel but I never do. He is the best warrior I know, that my father has ever known. I doubt that I will ever have the upper hand in a match. We tousled and engaged in hand-to-hand aggression and I felt him trip me up. Rather than resist, I fell to the ground with him atop me and as I lay there, I could feel evidence of his desire against me. I met his gaze and his light had turned to passion. I know because his eyes were a darker blue than usual, stormy with ardor. Or did I imagine that? I did not imagine what happened next.
He whispered my name and brought his lips to mine in a kiss. Lo’ it was soft at first but quickly progressed to a conflagrant passion laden embrace. I am not ashamed to say I returned his affection in full measure. I dropped my sword and ran my fingers through his golden hair, silken as it was to my touch.
Could ever a moment be more beautiful or more disastrous? For then I saw the confusion in his eyes and he fled from me.
Now I know not what to do. Do I go to him or wait for him to come to me? I am not schooled in the practice of love or wooing. My brother has more experience with flirtation and attention in romance. I have not had the time or inclination to dally with those I do not care for.
I hope that Glorfindel knows that my regard for him is sincere and earnest and not a passing fancy. I love him ardently and hope that he feels the same.
I do not know what to do and so will wait for a sign. I hope I do not wait in vain.
/---/
Elrond was seated in his office, haloed in the warm glow of the lantern, reading crop harvest reports. It was a dry subject at best but very important for his citizenry. The farms were integral to their survival, providing the food that they put on their tables. He leaned lower over the ledger to run his finger down the column of Erestor’s neatly calculated figures. He looked up as he heard a knock on the door.
“Enter.”
The Lord of Imladris put his work down on his desk as Glorfindel entered, apparently just from the practice fields judging by the look of his dirty, disheveled clothing. Elrond raised an eyebrow and sat back in his chair. This was not a usual occurrence for his councilor. Glorfindel was fastidious with his appearance, taking great pains to dress neatly in his Lord’s presence. The fact that he was dirty and unkempt worried Elrond greatly.
“Glorfindel, is something wrong? You do not look well.”
“My Lord, I have something of import to discuss with you, a personal issue. I do not quite know how to broach the topic.”
“You know, my friend, we do not stand on ceremony. You can tell me anything, anything at all.” Elrond gentled his voice, trying to reassure his obviously upset companion.
“It is about Elladan. I…I…”
“What did he do, Glorfindel? I assure you, he will make amends.” Elladan had been a rambunctious child all his life. It would not surprise him if he had done something to offend this honorable elf.
“No, Lord Elrond. It is not what he did. It is what I did.”
His captain’s reply surprised Elrond. He was well used to Elladan getting into scrapes though it had been less often as he matured. He could not imagine Glorfindel, a hero of the first age, an elf who had slain a balrog in defense of his kin, doing anything wrong. He embodied light and goodness in all aspects of his life and the Lord of Imladris trusted him implicitly.
“What could you have done, Glorfindel. Surely…”
Glorfindel looked for all the world like he wanted to bolt from his chair, or hide under the rug. It was alarming. He took a deep breath and spoke slowly.
“I kissed Elladan. I could not help myself.”
Elrond laughed. “Well this is nothing. Surely you have kissed him before. On the cheek or the nose. I am sure I saw you kiss him when he was a child.”
“Not that kind of kiss, my Lord.”
“Ohh.” Elrond touched his fingertips together and thought about how best to proceed. Evidently Glorfindel had romantic feelings for Elladan and was not fully aware of it.
“I do not know what to do.”
“Glorfindel, there is nothing to do. Your feelings are your feelings. You are going to have to accept them as they are.”
The Gondolin elf seemed to relax with Elrond’s words, the tension leaving his shoulders and neck. His eyes went from worried to hopeful all at once, a love once denied seemed possible.
“Did Elladan reject your kiss? What did he do?” Elrond asked.
“No, not at all. He grabbed my hair and returned my embrace.”
“Now that is all to the good. So your feelings are reciprocated. What happened next?”
“I ran.”
“You ran?”
“I ran. I fled like a scared elfling.”
Elrond pondered this turn of events. He could not imagine Glorfindel afraid of anything. He was so brave in battle, having faced the worst of Morgoth’s creatures yet Elladan had laid him bare to the marrow and left him trembling. It must be love.
“This is all fine.” Elrond assured him. “Nothing untoward has happened and now you must plot your pursuit.”
“My what? Are you giving me love advice, my lord?”
“Why, yes, in a manner of speaking. I am not ill suited to advising you in this area. I did court Celebrían, did I not?”
“Then I have your permission and blessing?”
“For what? To court my son? Of course, mellon. That would make me proud, indeed, to have you as his mate.”
Glorfindel felt they had been talking in circles to some degree but was much relieved by this turn of events. Not only did he have sage counsel in the matter of his wooing Elladan but his Lord’s sanction as well. Things were looking up!
“Where do I begin, then?”
“Well, first I would…” And so they plotted for some hours that night.
/---/
Something is afoot. I found flowers on my desk this morning. Someone snuck in here and placed the vase there while I slept. I have a feeling I know who it was. Something is definitely going on. I will have to investigate this further…
/---/
Each day at different hours, Elladan received some token. It might be flowers, or a sweet or even a poem of unspeakable beauty. One missive simply said,
“You are beautiful to behold. Your smile can brighten my morning.”
He sighed at that and tucked the parchment paper into his journal as a makeshift bookmark. He would pull it out and sigh over it whenever the mood struck him or doubt nagged at him. He would sometimes peer at the handwriting and try to discern telling aspects of character from the slant of the cursive.
The elder son of Elrond began to anticipate his admirer’s visits and gifts. He would spring from bed each morning in the hopes of finding something in his room and be sorely disappointed if nothing was there.
He knew who it was of course, but Glorfindel gave nothing away. He did not look at him any differently or treat him with any special regard. Nor did he make any reference to their passionate embrace on the practice grounds. Elladan wished to renew their affections but hardly had a chance to see his tutor alone.
It was very vexing. Very vexing indeed.
(to be continued)
by nienna_weeper at enchantedrealms
Chapter: Chapter One
Author: phyncke
For: Elladansgirl - Slashy Valentine 2013
Character(s): Elladan/Glorfindel, Elrond, Erestor/Lindir
Beta: khylea
Rating: NC17 in later chapter
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate, and I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours I hope.
Feedback: Much appreciated.
Summary: Elladan is given a journal and falls deeply in love. He mistakes a glance for amorous attention in the Hall of Fire and must sort things out. All is right in the end, have no fear.
Chapter One
Elladan remembered one Yuletide when he was an elfling. Along with the usual assortment of toys and scarves and clothing he received as gifts that year, he found a small, plainly wrapped package under the tree, tied simply with string. There was a piece of paper tucked into it, which read, in his father’s hastily scribbled hand,
“For Elladan – because your inner life is as important as the world without. Here you can record your thoughts and feelings. With love, Ada”
At that young age, Elladan did not know what his father meant but he kept the paper for later perusal. He saw that Elrohir had received the same package and probably the same note. Very often they received similar gifts, as twins. What worked for one, might work for the other. In this case they did receive the same journals though with different designs embossed on the leather covers. His had leaf patterns to evoke nature.
He leaned over Elrohir’s shoulder to see what his book looked like and saw that it had star patterns and was more celestial in its aspect. His own was dark, forest green while Elrohir’s was black as the night. Inside was hand-crafted paper. They were finely made journals suitable for the sons of the Lord of Imladris, fine volumes for their fine thoughts or so he imagined.
“My sons, you may write anything you wish in these journals – no matter how great or small and to any purpose. No one will look or check what you put in there. It is for your use alone, your own private thoughts and feelings. I myself keep a journal and I thought to pass this practice on to you so you can look back later in life and see what has come to pass.”
Both children nodded solemnly at Elrond, aware that he was imparting knowledge to them. They did not squirm or fret but listened with attentive care. They knew their father was wise and had lived through much in his life. Elladan wanted to be sure he understood and asked,
“So, we are to write on these pages whatever we want and no one will see?”
“No one but you.”
Elladan liked this idea. He liked it quite a bit. Sometimes he had thoughts competing in his mind for his attention. He welcomed having a place to put them. He mulled over the possibilities as he traced the leaf design with his fingers.
“Thank you, ada.” Both boys murmured in unison.
“You are very welcome.”
Some years pass…
/---/
I cannot escape the thought that I am in love with Glorfindel. I am fallen irrevocably and deeply in love with little hope of my feelings being returned. He is an elf of the light, from Aman, such a heroic being. I am so below his notice. I am nothing. I despair of ever being worthy of one such as he. I am not confused about my feelings. He is my light, he is my solace and yet I know not how to proceed. Could he ever feel the same way? Could he ever love one such as I?
I know not.
/---/
Through the long years of his life, as Elladan grew from a youngling to an adult elf, he found respite in the journal he wrote in a few times each week. He endeavored to write daily but sometimes he was too tired and would fall to sleep before he could pen his reflections. He would take it on patrols in the field and use a pencil on those entries instead of his ink and quill on his desk in the Last Homely House.
The journals were an outlet for his feelings and thoughts, large and small, generous or dark. He had learned long ago to scribe all that he felt and not to ruminate on undigested ideas. If he were mad at Elrohir, or irritated with his little sister, Arwen, he would write about it in his book. Once the thoughts were written down, he could leave them on their page or go back and think about them some more. He knew that this was what Elrond intended – for Elladan to contemplate his circumstance and chronicle his own life.
He never discussed the contents of his journal with anyone. It was a private matter. Some of the thoughts he wrote were selfish and mundane, ill-conceived or incomplete. He simply wrote what occurred to him without censure. He was not preparing an essay for his tutors so he did not polish the language or edit his ideas. These were his most intimate reflections. Sometimes he was mean; sometimes he was strident but he was always passionate. He felt things with a depth that was staggering. His journal helped him mitigate the tide of his emotions.
/---/
I am the happiest elf in all of Imladris, Arda, the world, the universe! I can scarce believe it. I am afraid to write about what happened for fear that it was all a dream and did not really occur at all. Though, I am compelled to write it down so I can confirm that it did. What a confused mess my heart is!
I now begin to hope that my sentiments are returned and that Glorfindel has feelings for me. I am in the clouds, may Manwë stop my fall. I can still feel the softness of his lips against mine and his sweet breath on my skin.
We were sparring as we usually do, with blunt wooden practice blades. We fought long and hard and I did my best to vanquish Glorfindel but I never do. He is the best warrior I know, that my father has ever known. I doubt that I will ever have the upper hand in a match. We tousled and engaged in hand-to-hand aggression and I felt him trip me up. Rather than resist, I fell to the ground with him atop me and as I lay there, I could feel evidence of his desire against me. I met his gaze and his light had turned to passion. I know because his eyes were a darker blue than usual, stormy with ardor. Or did I imagine that? I did not imagine what happened next.
He whispered my name and brought his lips to mine in a kiss. Lo’ it was soft at first but quickly progressed to a conflagrant passion laden embrace. I am not ashamed to say I returned his affection in full measure. I dropped my sword and ran my fingers through his golden hair, silken as it was to my touch.
Could ever a moment be more beautiful or more disastrous? For then I saw the confusion in his eyes and he fled from me.
Now I know not what to do. Do I go to him or wait for him to come to me? I am not schooled in the practice of love or wooing. My brother has more experience with flirtation and attention in romance. I have not had the time or inclination to dally with those I do not care for.
I hope that Glorfindel knows that my regard for him is sincere and earnest and not a passing fancy. I love him ardently and hope that he feels the same.
I do not know what to do and so will wait for a sign. I hope I do not wait in vain.
/---/
Elrond was seated in his office, haloed in the warm glow of the lantern, reading crop harvest reports. It was a dry subject at best but very important for his citizenry. The farms were integral to their survival, providing the food that they put on their tables. He leaned lower over the ledger to run his finger down the column of Erestor’s neatly calculated figures. He looked up as he heard a knock on the door.
“Enter.”
The Lord of Imladris put his work down on his desk as Glorfindel entered, apparently just from the practice fields judging by the look of his dirty, disheveled clothing. Elrond raised an eyebrow and sat back in his chair. This was not a usual occurrence for his councilor. Glorfindel was fastidious with his appearance, taking great pains to dress neatly in his Lord’s presence. The fact that he was dirty and unkempt worried Elrond greatly.
“Glorfindel, is something wrong? You do not look well.”
“My Lord, I have something of import to discuss with you, a personal issue. I do not quite know how to broach the topic.”
“You know, my friend, we do not stand on ceremony. You can tell me anything, anything at all.” Elrond gentled his voice, trying to reassure his obviously upset companion.
“It is about Elladan. I…I…”
“What did he do, Glorfindel? I assure you, he will make amends.” Elladan had been a rambunctious child all his life. It would not surprise him if he had done something to offend this honorable elf.
“No, Lord Elrond. It is not what he did. It is what I did.”
His captain’s reply surprised Elrond. He was well used to Elladan getting into scrapes though it had been less often as he matured. He could not imagine Glorfindel, a hero of the first age, an elf who had slain a balrog in defense of his kin, doing anything wrong. He embodied light and goodness in all aspects of his life and the Lord of Imladris trusted him implicitly.
“What could you have done, Glorfindel. Surely…”
Glorfindel looked for all the world like he wanted to bolt from his chair, or hide under the rug. It was alarming. He took a deep breath and spoke slowly.
“I kissed Elladan. I could not help myself.”
Elrond laughed. “Well this is nothing. Surely you have kissed him before. On the cheek or the nose. I am sure I saw you kiss him when he was a child.”
“Not that kind of kiss, my Lord.”
“Ohh.” Elrond touched his fingertips together and thought about how best to proceed. Evidently Glorfindel had romantic feelings for Elladan and was not fully aware of it.
“I do not know what to do.”
“Glorfindel, there is nothing to do. Your feelings are your feelings. You are going to have to accept them as they are.”
The Gondolin elf seemed to relax with Elrond’s words, the tension leaving his shoulders and neck. His eyes went from worried to hopeful all at once, a love once denied seemed possible.
“Did Elladan reject your kiss? What did he do?” Elrond asked.
“No, not at all. He grabbed my hair and returned my embrace.”
“Now that is all to the good. So your feelings are reciprocated. What happened next?”
“I ran.”
“You ran?”
“I ran. I fled like a scared elfling.”
Elrond pondered this turn of events. He could not imagine Glorfindel afraid of anything. He was so brave in battle, having faced the worst of Morgoth’s creatures yet Elladan had laid him bare to the marrow and left him trembling. It must be love.
“This is all fine.” Elrond assured him. “Nothing untoward has happened and now you must plot your pursuit.”
“My what? Are you giving me love advice, my lord?”
“Why, yes, in a manner of speaking. I am not ill suited to advising you in this area. I did court Celebrían, did I not?”
“Then I have your permission and blessing?”
“For what? To court my son? Of course, mellon. That would make me proud, indeed, to have you as his mate.”
Glorfindel felt they had been talking in circles to some degree but was much relieved by this turn of events. Not only did he have sage counsel in the matter of his wooing Elladan but his Lord’s sanction as well. Things were looking up!
“Where do I begin, then?”
“Well, first I would…” And so they plotted for some hours that night.
/---/
Something is afoot. I found flowers on my desk this morning. Someone snuck in here and placed the vase there while I slept. I have a feeling I know who it was. Something is definitely going on. I will have to investigate this further…
/---/
Each day at different hours, Elladan received some token. It might be flowers, or a sweet or even a poem of unspeakable beauty. One missive simply said,
“You are beautiful to behold. Your smile can brighten my morning.”
He sighed at that and tucked the parchment paper into his journal as a makeshift bookmark. He would pull it out and sigh over it whenever the mood struck him or doubt nagged at him. He would sometimes peer at the handwriting and try to discern telling aspects of character from the slant of the cursive.
The elder son of Elrond began to anticipate his admirer’s visits and gifts. He would spring from bed each morning in the hopes of finding something in his room and be sorely disappointed if nothing was there.
He knew who it was of course, but Glorfindel gave nothing away. He did not look at him any differently or treat him with any special regard. Nor did he make any reference to their passionate embrace on the practice grounds. Elladan wished to renew their affections but hardly had a chance to see his tutor alone.
It was very vexing. Very vexing indeed.
(to be continued)
by nienna_weeper at enchantedrealms
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2013-02-24 07:36 pm (UTC)Next part please?
no subject
Date: 2013-02-24 07:47 pm (UTC)