Lu Vinui: First Love
Beta: Ilye
chapter eight
Imladris, Echuir - 1921 of the Second Age
"When I am done, then we shall see if you love me still." Erestor rearranged himself on the bed, sipping the warm tea and willing the tension to leave his body.
Lothvaen swallowed visibly. "If you are simply telling me these things due to my affection for you, then there is no reason to continue. I will only hear what you have to say if you tell me because you desire me, as I desire you." Erestor did not immediately respond, and as the minutes dragged on, Lothvaen thought he would not answer at all.
"You know I desire you," Erestor said at last, in a voice barely above a whisper.
"Then I would hear what it is you need to tell me." Lothvaen settled into the plush chair, drawing his legs up to his chest. Erestor mentally chuckled when the younger Noldo wrapped his arms around his legs. He looked like a child in his large robes and with his chin resting on his knees.
"I was born in Aman," Erestor began simply. "It is a bright, gleaming memory that becomes more blurred when I attempt to focus on it. I was but a toddler when my Adar brought me with him." He watched Lothvaen closely, but saw no glimmer of surprise. Erestor felt a slight pounding in his temples and finished his tea, hoping the herbal infusion would aid his headache. "You knew I was from Aman."
Lothvaen cleared his throat. "I sought assistance from Lord Elrond. He spoke of your origins. He told me you were born in Aman, were the son of Amras, and that you dwelled with Celegorm and Curufin for some time. You were sent to Maedhros to dwell with him until you left with Gil-galad for the Isle of Balar."
"But he did not tell you why I was sent to live with Maedhros?" Erestor's whole countenance exuded unease.
The younger Elf shook his head. "Nay, he said it was your story to tell, not his."
"So it is," was the stiff reply. Erestor looked down at his hands. "Yes, I traveled with my Iaurada, Adar and his brothers. I was but eighteen years of age when we set foot in Mithrim, but my hands were already covered in the blood of my kin."
Lothvaen's eyes darkened in the silence of the room. He allowed the words to sink in and realized their implication. "Kin... slayer?"
The Chief Councilor looked up with unfathomable eyes and said flatly, "My first kill was a Telerë not much older than myself at the time. Iaurada had left those who had rebelled with us behind; Celebrimbor and I were terrified of those we had loved all our lives. We were also ashamed of ourselves." Erestor stretched out his legs and pulled the folded coverlet over his lap. "You know of Fëanor's death, of the siege we attempted on Angband and of Maedhros' captivity. All these things had little impact on my life then; I went where I was told and did as I was bid. When Adar and his siblings were given East Beleriand as their own, they split up. Amrod and Ada were weary of bloodshed, though, and sought the refuge of the green woods. They did not feel that I was old enough to be sundered from the rest of my family and other Elves. Amrod suggested they send me to Curufin; he was raising Celebrimbor on his own, after all.
"I was forty when I rode into Curufin's lands. My uncles welcomed me with open arms and my cousin was pleased to have one of his own age close by. And the arrangement worked to my benefit as my uncles were eager to train me in warfare." Erestor chuckled ruefully. "It seems I excelled at the subject. Months went by and the hurt I felt at my Adar's decision to send me to my relatives had lessened. I was happy. But, my uncles had begun to change. I was ten years away from my majority and I had begun to drawn attention from other Elves..." Erestor shifted uncomfortably. "It started small, you see. At first, I didn't know anything had really changed. Curufin and Celegorm would playfully smack my buttocks as I walked by or embrace me a little longer than they should have. Slowly, the swats became intentional, lingering touches."
Lothvaen's eyes widened as he took in the meaning of Erestor's words. His mind refused to accept the course that Erestor's childhood was suddenly taking.
"You must understand, Lothvaen. I never told them to stop. I never once spoke against the actions of my uncles. The veiled touches intensified when Caranthir came for an extended visit with his brothers." Erestor wrapped his arms around his waist and closed his eyes, trembling with memory. "He was the first to lay a hand on me in lust. I will not go into the details of the encounter since it is not important. What is important is that he brought me to orgasm with his hand and then expected me to do the same." The Councilor opened his eyes and took in the shocked expression on his former employee's face. "And I did as I was bid."
"You were but a child, my Lord!" Lothvaen cried out, feeling anger for his friend.
Erestor shook his head. "I knew it was wrong, but I did not stop him."
Lothvaen bit back his response, knowing that the guilt and self-loathing were long ingrained in the Councilor and nothing he said would alter the elder Noldo's perception.
"It was Celegorm who took the next step. Only a month later, they grew bored with the new game. I was passing through the main hall when Celegorm pressed me against the wall, kneeling before me to pleasure me with his mouth." Erestor's eyes met Lothvaen's. "When he was done, he looked up expectantly at me."
The younger Elf's face lost all its color. What Erestor had described was what had happened between them in the bathing chamber, though Lothvaen would not have pressured Erestor to perform the act simply because it was done to him. Lothvaen opened his mouth to protest that his intent had not been to manipulate the Councilor so he had to pleasure him, but the raven-haired Noldo had averted his eyes again and continued his tale.
"An extended visit," Erestor said, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Caranthir was still in residence when I celebrated my forty-third year. They felt they were being generous in not expecting me to reciprocate the sexual favors they bestowed. My body was a traitor. No matter how many times I told myself I would no longer allow the brothers to slake themselves with me, my body always betrayed me." Erestor changed his position, sitting cross-legged and wringing his hands.
"I went to bed early that night. After all, I was exhausted. I'd
only just fallen into reverie when my bedroom door opened."
Erestor's eyes came into focus and he jumped back, startled. His uncle was crouching next to his bed, smiling hungrily at him.
"Pen neth," Celegorm whispered. "I think it's time you learned a new game."
The Elfling shook his head and crept backwards in the bed until his slender back came up against the cool wood of the headboard.
"Melin chen, Erestor... Do I not have your love as well?"
Erestor nodded. Of course he loved his uncles; they had taken care of him. If it hadn't been for them, he would have had nowhere to go. And he adored his cousin and if he didn't do as he was told, they might send him away from the only home he had ever truly known.
"Lie down, pen dithen." Celegorm's voice was low and sultry, but Erestor could do nothing but shake as he slid down on his bed sheets. "Maer." Celegorm's eyes hungrily raked over Erestor's lithe frame, still developing the muscle tone that he and his brothers had long ago acquired. The elder Noldo reached out, undid the tie at the waist of Erestor's sleeping trousers, and slid the silk down the slender hips.
"Banwain. Now, lift your legs. Aye, hênen vaer."
Erestor knew his face had to be glowing red with his humiliation, being presented in such a way. His body continued to tremble, uncertain what his uncle would do.
"Be still, pen neth," his uncle warned, and Erestor nodded, biting his lip in apprehension.
Celegorm opened a small phial and dipped the length of one thick finger into the liquid. Erestor's body tensed when he felt the cold, slick digit touch his rear. "Tôr-en-adar!" he said, his voice quivering with fear.
Celegorm continued to stroke the Elfling's rear passage. "Hush, Erestor. You know I am doing this because I love you." Celegorm smiled sweetly at the frightened figure.
Love. If he loved his uncle he would permit this. His uncle loved him and this was how he expressed that love. It was just one more game in many -- he could be good and still and quiet. When the finger slid into his untried body, Erestor let out a keening wail of pain and clamped his legs closed.
"No! Tôr-en-adar, no!" Erestor squirmed up the bed, tears flowing freely. "No," he whimpered pathetically. Celegorm grabbed Erestor's thighs and pried them apart.
"Be still, pen neth. I do not wish to hurt you, but you will leave me no choice if you do not stop this struggling." Erestor let out a loud sob and stared at the ceiling. Celegorm brushed his cheek. "Melin chen. Uireb."
Celegorm returned to his task, sliding his finger back into the pulsing, tight passage and groaning with need above his nephew. Erestor held his breath, willing himself to be brave and strong; his uncle loved him. When Celegorm added a second finger, not waiting for the little body to relax any, Erestor could be still no longer.
"Tôr-en-adar, please..." he cried, trying to move away from the painful intrusion. When Celegorm began to move his fingers within him, Erestor let out a scream of fright and pain, calling out for someone, anyone, to save him.
"Hush, hênen, or this will become infinitely more difficult for you." When Erestor still would not stop his shrieking, Celegorm raised his hand to strike the violently shaking Elfling beneath him.
Suddenly, Celegorm found his hand pierced through with a small dagger. He let out a loud cry, pulled away from his nephew, and looked to the door. There stood his wide-eyed brothers, looking on the scene with obvious shock.
"Celegorm," Caranthir said, his tone low and deadly. "Leave this room."
The third son of Fëanor stood, holding his impaled hand close to his chest. He glared at his brothers and then turned his angry, hungry eyes on the sobbing heap half-naked on the bed. Caranthir slammed the door closed after his elder brother and watched his younger brother ease himself onto the bed, attempting to pull the child into his lap.
"No!" Erestor screamed, lashing out with his legs and fists. Curufin had the struggling Elfling quickly immobilized and whispered gentle words, lulling Erestor into a troubled half-sleep.
"He cannot remain here, melethron," whispered Caranthir. "If he stays, Celegorm will despoil him."
Curufin looked up, his eyes shining with guilt. "Have we not already sullied him with our desires?"
Caranthir sat behind his brother, holding him close as Curufin rocked their nephew in his arms. "Celegorm will take him and leave nothing of our vibrant child, Curufin. Erestor must go. So should Celebrimbor. Your son may return once our brother has departed, but Erestor should not."
"Amras should have never trusted us with his child, melethen."
Curufin kissed Erestor's furrowed brow and sighed. "They will leave
tomorrow."
Lothvaen wiped tears from his eyes. "May I sit with you, my Lord?" he asked quietly.
Erestor raised a tear-stained face and barely nodded.
The younger Noldo unfolded himself from the chair, removing his formal robe as he made his way to the bed. Once he was comfortably attired in his undershirt and leggings, he motioned for Erestor to stand. When the Councilor looked at him warily, Lothvaen smiled mildly. "All I wish to do is hang your robes up, meldir. Nothing more."
Erestor chided himself and stood. Lothvaen was not Celegorm... he was not Caranthir or Curufin. He allowed Lothvaen to remove his robes and watched his former employee dutifully hang them in the wardrobe. Erestor sat back down on the mattress, moving closer to the center of the massive bed and making room for Lothvaen. When they were both comfortably seated, Erestor hung his head, hiding his face behind the curtain of his hair. "I was sent with Celebrimbor to Maedhros. Maglor was there, visiting his brother, and they welcomed us. Curufin had sent a messenger ahead of us, announcing our arrival, but my uncle had not told his brothers the reason he was sending us to foster with him for an undefined length of time.
"When Maedhros attempted to hug me, though, I fell to the floor and hugged myself close... I was crying uncontrollably. Maglor tried to calm me, telling Maedhros to find a Healer, but I was inconsolable. Maedhros made Celebrimbor tell him the reason for our trip to him and he raged about his brothers for days. I feared he was angry with me, but after those first days, I knew I was safe. Maedhros and Maglor were the most kind-hearted of all the brothers. But for the Oath of Fëanor, they would have been truly great." Erestor jumped when Lothvaen reached out to take his hand. The contact was comforting, though, and Erestor smiled shyly and relaxed. "Life went on for many years after that. I learned diplomacy with Maedhros and tactics with Maglor. I thrived under their care and I loved them without remorse or guilt. I was almost to my fifth century when I rode out with my uncles to defend Beleriand."
"The Siege of Angband." Lothvaen's voice held a note of awe and Erestor chuckled.
"Aye. Maglor finally joined us permanently in Himring while Caranthir fled to my Adar's lands. Eventually, I was faced with my uncles when we all fought in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. We escaped that battle without serious injury, but we were forced to flee to the East. Maedhros took as many as he could, but our numbers were diminished and our hearts were heavy. I was forced to wander with my uncles. I could always feel Celegorm's eyes upon me. He was never allowed a moment alone with me, though I doubt he could have had his way with me at that point. I had passed five hundred years and I was a battle- hardened warrior. He would have died had he laid a finger upon me in lust." Erestor's voice had taken on a cold and hard edge, his grip on Lothvaen's hand increasing in pressure.
"We wandered for over thirty years, learning the ways of the Wood Elves in the dense areas of Ered Lindon. My Adar rarely spoke to me. I barely knew the wild, fey creatures the twins had become while living with the feral Elves in the wood realms. But, they were called by their cursed oath and I followed my uncles to Menegroth and fought my kin once more. Caranthir, Curufin and Celegorm fell then. I cannot say I mourned their deaths, but I mourned the loss of so many Elven lights..." Erestor's words trailed off and a tear fell from his eye. When he spoke again, his voice thick with remorse.
"Almost three decades later, in Sirion, I found myself again in the
same position. We descended upon them in droves." Erestor turned
shining eyes to his companion. "This was no battle -- it was a
slaughter. I watched as women and children were cut down before my
eyes. I just... could not do it anymore. Elwing ran even while her
children were captured. Seeing the shattered look in her eyes as she
fled, I knew I could take up arms against my kin no more. That was
when I made a decision that has haunted me for millennia."
"What are you doing?!" Amras stood tall, his eyes wild with a rage Erestor could not understand.
"I will do this no more!" Erestor stood before a small group of Elves, protecting them from his father.
Amras advanced on his son. "You will turn aside, Erestor!"
Erestor gripped his sword with both his hands, panting with the exertion of fighting. "I. Will. Not."
"You are my son and will do as I say!" Amras lifted his sword to strike at Erestor.
"I stopped being your son the day you left me with your brothers. And
when I send you to Mandos, you can ask them why." Silence rang in
Erestor's ears as he lunged forward, his blade slicing through his
father's stomach in a single, unhesitating motion. When Amras fell to
his knees, looking up with confusion and pain, Erestor pulled his
bloody sword from his father's body. The light left Amras' eyes and
Erestor turned back to defending his charges, unwilling to let harm
come to the people of Sirion.
"I hoped that I had washed away some of the death on my hands by cleansing them in the blood of my father." Erestor's shoulders slumped and he let out a long breath. "I helped Maglor raise Elrond and Elros. I had to repent somehow. Elrond and I have always been close. He knows all of me. I loved Elros as well, but he was so different from Elrond... The rest, you know. My life has been relatively uneventful since. I served Gil-galad; now I serve Elrond." Erestor lifted his head and tucked his hair behind his ear. "So you see why it is I cannot love you and why you should not love me."
Lothvaen turned his head sharply and stared disbelievingly at Erestor. "It is too late for 'should's and 'should not's. I love you, and that is not going to change." To emphasis his point, Lothvaen squeezed Erestor's hand gently.
Erestor snatched his hand away and turned to face Lothvaen. "How?" he demanded. "How can you say such a thing knowing the acts I have committed?"
"That was many years ago, meleth. I did not know the Erestor you speak of, but the Erestor I do know I love deeply." Lothvaen pushed his frustration down, knowing how badly Erestor needed patience and understanding now.
Erestor just looked at the younger Elf, unconvinced of Lothvaen's sincerity. He was speechless for the first time in many years, not knowing how to respond to such a statement.
Lothvaen chuckled. "Did you think I would love you any less for the things you have done or had done to you? In fact, Erestor, I love you more knowing how much you have survived. You are an amazing Elf. Never think differently." The young Councilor lifted his hand to brush Erestor's cold cheek reassuringly.
The Chief Councilor stopped himself from flinching at the touch, forcing himself to remain still.
"Lesser Elves have grieved themselves to Mandos from half of what you have endured. But, you have a strength and, if I may say," Lothvaen smiled, "A certain stubbornness that has allowed you to go on. How is that unworthy of love?" He slowly stroked Erestor's cheek with his thumb and moved closer to the silent Elf.
Erestor shifted his position, putting more space between himself and Lothvaen. "You are a romantic and you misunderstand. I remain here out of fear that I will be forced to share my Iaurada's fate."
Lothvaen shook his head. "I think that's what you have told yourself, and you might even believe it. But the truth is, you always found something here that needed doing. Elrond and Elros needed to be raised, Gil-galad needed to be advised and Imladris needed to be founded. That's all over now. It's time you took care of yourself instead of everyone else, my Lord."
Tears formed in Erestor eyes and his voice cracked when he spoke. "It's... hard."
"Yes, it's hard." Lothvaen moved close once more, taking both of Erestor's hands in his own. "But, you are Chief Councilor Erestor of Imladris. You, single-handedly, keep Elrond and Glorfindel from killing one another. You put Prince Thranduil in his place with a flick of your wrist! Coming to terms with your inner demons should be nothing compared to those feats." Lothvaen smiled brightly at Erestor, bringing the Councilor's hands to his lips and kissing them gently.
Erestor laughed through his tears and shook his head. "I suppose I must concede your point, meldir."
Lothvaen released one hand and wiped at Erestor's damp cheeks. "No more tears. No more guilt," he said softly.
Erestor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He felt drained and limp; he wanted to lie down and let dreams wash away his mental fatigue.
The younger Noldo watched Erestor's eyes focus and unfocus and he smiled affectionately at him. "I believe it is time for you to retire, my Lord." Lothvaen stood from the bed and pulled Erestor closer to the side of the mattress. He placed his hands on the first button of Erestor's shirt and looked questioningly at the Elf-lord. Erestor simply nodded and Lothvaen quickly removed the garment.
Lothvaen pulled back the bedding and watched Erestor settle in, lying on his side with his eyes half-lidded. Lothvaen knelt next to him and leaned in, kissing Erestor softly and chastely, before standing to leave. "Maer fuin, hîren." The violet-eyed Elf snuffed the candles and turned one lamp down low before walking away from the bed.
As he was opening the door, he heard a muffled plea from the bed. "Daro ah nin."
Lothvaen smiled. "Aye, hîren." He brought the chair he had been sitting in close to Erestor's bedside and sat, shifting until he was comfortable. Erestor reached out from beneath his blanket and looked up to Lothvaen's face with a raw expression of need. Lothvaen took hold of Erestor's proffered hand and stroked the inside of the Councilor's wrist with his thumb.
"Melin chen, Lothvaen."
The young Councilor watched Erestor's eyes grow vacant and he sighed deeply. "Idho mae. Hebithon in roeg o chen."
