Well, not too long ago, Jenni and I were on the phone blabbing...and
I happened to blab about lotr...when she mentioned she would love to
see a lemon involving the ringwraiths...at which I scoffed and
laughed and asked who on earth would want to read that!?
But then she said, "When they were alive"
and it got me to thinking...
hence, the little story I wrote for her ^_^'
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and make no profit from this work of fiction
Warnings: There is mention of male/male relations on a sexual level
Once They Were
By Cs
Once, they were men, great kings of men. Though now, as they ride across the moor, black cloaks billowing in clouds behind them, they are nothing more than wraiths, soulless, or so it seems. If perhaps a look could be taken, a glance at what they think of, maybe then it would be seen that they are more than mere slaves. The dark one saw to that, his power and might reaching out to ensure that they would always remember what they had been, what they could have chosen for themselves.
But they did not, could not have. History would have been rewritten any other way. A path different from the one they chose, and perhaps they would not be wailing into the night in their pursuit. Maybe then, they would not remember with each mile, would not recall what they once were to one another.
Even now, one falters, mist scattering across what is left of his shattered mind. He remembers, for a brief instant, a sunny and windswept day, clouds chasing each other across the sky, and the warmth of his companion resting against his side. They had paused to lie together, relaxing in the heat of the day, laughing at jokes he can no longer recall. His horse remembers its duty though, and in seconds, its gait once more picks up, forcing its rider out of his reverie. But he can still taste it, that happy moment in his life when all was well.
When daylight comes again, they still travel, separated now by distance and land, they know where one another is, they can feel it through the bond they're trapped within. Once, they had names, lives, families, or wives. But this one, standing alone atop a dusky hill, he remembers his lover, another king, a sovereign. In the halting and scattered memories that roam through his mind, he still sees flashes of a bright smile, eyes that sparked something inside of his heart. He remembers the feeling of love on a humid night in the Elvin lands. If he were capable of tears, perhaps he would shed a few for what has been lost.
Another day passes; they grow closer to the end of their journey now, so close to one another and to their quarry. Triumphant, they howl to each other across the plains, they scream of their victory, of the end of their torture. They are beautiful in their horror, so dark beneath their cloaks and armor, where once they were light.
And a thousand years ago or more, they ran across this very same field, through these trees, over that shallow stream. Only then, and they all remember, then they were men. Great kings of men. Their faces shining with hope for a future without war, their bond of love the strongest amongst warriors. Then, they could still feel something more than this unending darkness, and their memories did not make them scream.
I happened to blab about lotr...when she mentioned she would love to
see a lemon involving the ringwraiths...at which I scoffed and
laughed and asked who on earth would want to read that!?
But then she said, "When they were alive"
and it got me to thinking...
hence, the little story I wrote for her ^_^'
Disclaimer: I own nothing, and make no profit from this work of fiction
Warnings: There is mention of male/male relations on a sexual level
Once They Were
By Cs
Once, they were men, great kings of men. Though now, as they ride across the moor, black cloaks billowing in clouds behind them, they are nothing more than wraiths, soulless, or so it seems. If perhaps a look could be taken, a glance at what they think of, maybe then it would be seen that they are more than mere slaves. The dark one saw to that, his power and might reaching out to ensure that they would always remember what they had been, what they could have chosen for themselves.
But they did not, could not have. History would have been rewritten any other way. A path different from the one they chose, and perhaps they would not be wailing into the night in their pursuit. Maybe then, they would not remember with each mile, would not recall what they once were to one another.
Even now, one falters, mist scattering across what is left of his shattered mind. He remembers, for a brief instant, a sunny and windswept day, clouds chasing each other across the sky, and the warmth of his companion resting against his side. They had paused to lie together, relaxing in the heat of the day, laughing at jokes he can no longer recall. His horse remembers its duty though, and in seconds, its gait once more picks up, forcing its rider out of his reverie. But he can still taste it, that happy moment in his life when all was well.
When daylight comes again, they still travel, separated now by distance and land, they know where one another is, they can feel it through the bond they're trapped within. Once, they had names, lives, families, or wives. But this one, standing alone atop a dusky hill, he remembers his lover, another king, a sovereign. In the halting and scattered memories that roam through his mind, he still sees flashes of a bright smile, eyes that sparked something inside of his heart. He remembers the feeling of love on a humid night in the Elvin lands. If he were capable of tears, perhaps he would shed a few for what has been lost.
Another day passes; they grow closer to the end of their journey now, so close to one another and to their quarry. Triumphant, they howl to each other across the plains, they scream of their victory, of the end of their torture. They are beautiful in their horror, so dark beneath their cloaks and armor, where once they were light.
And a thousand years ago or more, they ran across this very same field, through these trees, over that shallow stream. Only then, and they all remember, then they were men. Great kings of men. Their faces shining with hope for a future without war, their bond of love the strongest amongst warriors. Then, they could still feel something more than this unending darkness, and their memories did not make them scream.