The Librarian 15/
How the Whip was Won
LotR
NC17
Summery: Erestor = Erestor! w/ Glorfindel & Melpomean
Warnings: BDSM, kink, angst
Disclaimer: All LotR characters and settings are the exclusive property of
the Tolkien estate. I do not have permission to use them.
Summery: Part 2 of story arc.
Feedback: Please – I'm using the comments to beta this mess
For lj user="Kharessa" and lj user="Machiavellian"
AN Still in the aftermath of the v. bad thing skip if it squicks
Melpomaen awoke at dawn, just as he did every morning. His body ached, the combination of the half healed welts and the dullness of someone who has overslept made his head spin as he lurched to the side of the bed. He rubbed his face, trying to gage his whereabouts. It wasn't his room, and it took a moment for the rows of beds to register and to realize he was in the healing house. He must have come here last night, though he couldn't remember how exactly. His bare feet brushed the floor and he cried out in surprise: they were swollen painful and felt as though he had stepped on pins and needles. He pressed against them experimentally. The pain sharpened his mind, focusing his reality. Stepping heavily down, he savored the sensation clawing at his soles, so very alive, and then searched the wardrobe next to him for his clothes. They were nowhere to be found, and he settled instead on one of the soft bed robes left for patients. Wrapped and warm he headed out the door.
The hallways of Imladris were always quiet at this hour. It was partly this peace that Melpomaen so enjoyed. The light turned from cold whites to a warm golden glow, and eventually the house would be alive and bustling with activity. But before that, in the crisp moments after dawn but before morning, there was a silence that was his alone. By the time he reached the library he heard the first sounds of stirring. This was his favorite part of the day, when promise and anticipation raged against the almost sacred calm of the Library. Just as he had every morning these past weeks, he removed his robe and folded it neatly on his desk, then knelt in the center of the room. The sureness of this act, the safety of it, calmed and stilled his mind of doubts as he waited.
*
Erestor paced in the bathing chamber. Bound? To Glorfindel?! What in Arda's Great Plains was Elrond thinking? It was impossible! He must dissolve the union at once! Why would Glorfindel even agree to such a thing? And Elrond? Was he determined to make him a murderer twice over?! He longed to crawl into a corner and let the darkness carry him away, but now? Now, with his sudden awareness of a whispered other's emotion? Worry, concern for him, feelings that tickled the corner of his subconscious; feelings that were not his own. The invasion angered him further. How dare Glorfindel put his life into his hands! How dare Glorfindel...
Without finishing the thought he strode back into the room and tackled the warrior. More through surprise than skill, Erestor managed to knock him down. Erestor followed, tearing wildly at Glorfindel, his attack so frenzied that Glorfindel at first had no defense beyond shielding his face. When Erestor seemed to tire, Glorfindel used the break in his attack to roll over upon him, trapping Erestor's arms and effectively stopping him from harming either of them. Erestor struggled angrily, but he was no match for a battle hardened warrior, and shame blossomed in his eyes. Once again he was too weak.
"Let me up" The humiliation of having his limitations displayed made tears well.
"So you can attack me again? That hardly makes sense, my learned friend"
To be powerless and mocked? Erestor began struggling again, more determined than ever. He bucked violently, actually managing to dislodge Glorfindel, and scrabbling to his knees he lurched to the door. Glorfindel caught his ankle, yanking him back, then sat heavily upon him.
"Be still, by Mandos!"
"I do not agree to this! I will not be bound to you!"
Erestor continue struggling, even as his body ached with fatigue. As his body weakened his emotional connection with Glorfindel seemed to heighten. Alien emotions washing unwelcome across his conscious. Fear, guilt and sympathy? Glorfindel felt sorry for him? Thought him pathetic and in need? Finally exhausted, Erestor's eyes glazed over.
*
The day had come and gone, and Melpomaen body ached, naked skin almost clothed in the gloaming. All day he had waited on his knees for his Master to return. All day he had wondered if the footfalls he heard in the corridor would stop at the Library door. He watched the shadows of trees shorten then lengthen again as Anor traveled across the sky. He heard the commotion of the household and smelled the maddening scent of meals. Why hadn't Erestor come? His mind kept going back to the last time he'd seen him. Erestor had been crazed, cruel and relentless. Melpomaen had never wanted him so much. But it had been wrong too; Erestor had obviously been disgusted with him, so much so he was sick to his stomach. Even the words Glorfindel whispered in his ear couldn't erase that sting. Was he so despicable that Erestor had dropped him entirely? Then another realization: Glorfindel and Elrond had seen them. Seen the aftermath of what they did. Were they too horrified by him?
Climbing to his feet he wrapped himself in his robe. The pain in his limbs was nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of loss and emptiness crushing his chest. Moving slowly he made his way to the door. Another elf, less familiar with Imladris at lonely hours might have missed it, but Melpomaen knew these walkways. The hallways were dark, but he was used to that, and his eyes scanned the corridor. There! Against the far tapestry, still but amiss. Melpomaen stalked over, throwing back the heavy textile. And found himself face to face with Haldir.
Melpomaen awoke at dawn, just as he did every morning. His body ached, the combination of the half healed welts and the dullness of someone who has overslept made his head spin as he lurched to the side of the bed. He rubbed his face, trying to gage his whereabouts. It wasn't his room, and it took a moment for the rows of beds to register and to realize he was in the healing house. He must have come here last night, though he couldn't remember how exactly. His bare feet brushed the floor and he cried out in surprise: they were swollen painful and felt as though he had stepped on pins and needles. He pressed against them experimentally. The pain sharpened his mind, focusing his reality. Stepping heavily down, he savored the sensation clawing at his soles, so very alive, and then searched the wardrobe next to him for his clothes. They were nowhere to be found, and he settled instead on one of the soft bed robes left for patients. Wrapped and warm he headed out the door.
The hallways of Imladris were always quiet at this hour. It was partly this peace that Melpomaen so enjoyed. The light turned from cold whites to a warm golden glow, and eventually the house would be alive and bustling with activity. But before that, in the crisp moments after dawn but before morning, there was a silence that was his alone. By the time he reached the library he heard the first sounds of stirring. This was his favorite part of the day, when promise and anticipation raged against the almost sacred calm of the Library. Just as he had every morning these past weeks, he removed his robe and folded it neatly on his desk, then knelt in the center of the room. The sureness of this act, the safety of it, calmed and stilled his mind of doubts as he waited.
*
Erestor paced in the bathing chamber. Bound? To Glorfindel?! What in Arda's Great Plains was Elrond thinking? It was impossible! He must dissolve the union at once! Why would Glorfindel even agree to such a thing? And Elrond? Was he determined to make him a murderer twice over?! He longed to crawl into a corner and let the darkness carry him away, but now? Now, with his sudden awareness of a whispered other's emotion? Worry, concern for him, feelings that tickled the corner of his subconscious; feelings that were not his own. The invasion angered him further. How dare Glorfindel put his life into his hands! How dare Glorfindel...
Without finishing the thought he strode back into the room and tackled the warrior. More through surprise than skill, Erestor managed to knock him down. Erestor followed, tearing wildly at Glorfindel, his attack so frenzied that Glorfindel at first had no defense beyond shielding his face. When Erestor seemed to tire, Glorfindel used the break in his attack to roll over upon him, trapping Erestor's arms and effectively stopping him from harming either of them. Erestor struggled angrily, but he was no match for a battle hardened warrior, and shame blossomed in his eyes. Once again he was too weak.
"Let me up" The humiliation of having his limitations displayed made tears well.
"So you can attack me again? That hardly makes sense, my learned friend"
To be powerless and mocked? Erestor began struggling again, more determined than ever. He bucked violently, actually managing to dislodge Glorfindel, and scrabbling to his knees he lurched to the door. Glorfindel caught his ankle, yanking him back, then sat heavily upon him.
"Be still, by Mandos!"
"I do not agree to this! I will not be bound to you!"
Erestor continue struggling, even as his body ached with fatigue. As his body weakened his emotional connection with Glorfindel seemed to heighten. Alien emotions washing unwelcome across his conscious. Fear, guilt and sympathy? Glorfindel felt sorry for him? Thought him pathetic and in need? Finally exhausted, Erestor's eyes glazed over.
*
The day had come and gone, and Melpomaen body ached, naked skin almost clothed in the gloaming. All day he had waited on his knees for his Master to return. All day he had wondered if the footfalls he heard in the corridor would stop at the Library door. He watched the shadows of trees shorten then lengthen again as Anor traveled across the sky. He heard the commotion of the household and smelled the maddening scent of meals. Why hadn't Erestor come? His mind kept going back to the last time he'd seen him. Erestor had been crazed, cruel and relentless. Melpomaen had never wanted him so much. But it had been wrong too; Erestor had obviously been disgusted with him, so much so he was sick to his stomach. Even the words Glorfindel whispered in his ear couldn't erase that sting. Was he so despicable that Erestor had dropped him entirely? Then another realization: Glorfindel and Elrond had seen them. Seen the aftermath of what they did. Were they too horrified by him?
Climbing to his feet he wrapped himself in his robe. The pain in his limbs was nothing compared to the overwhelming sense of loss and emptiness crushing his chest. Moving slowly he made his way to the door. Another elf, less familiar with Imladris at lonely hours might have missed it, but Melpomaen knew these walkways. The hallways were dark, but he was used to that, and his eyes scanned the corridor. There! Against the far tapestry, still but amiss. Melpomaen stalked over, throwing back the heavy textile. And found himself face to face with Haldir.