Title: Sanity
Type: FPGen
Author: Edward Uwnhai Silverfang (EddieUwnhaiyahoo.com)
Rating: R
Characters: Elladan, Elrohir
Warning: mentions of incest, angst
Disclaimer: Characters and setting do not belong to me, but the plot does!
Beta: LadyHawksShadow
Summary: Elladan and Elrohir think upon their situations.
Notes: I'm joining this to a series of fic's all written listening to a song, this one was 'Dragula' by Rob Zombie. This doesn't necessarily mean the story carries a similar essence to the song or some other such, it just means I was listening to it and it inspired me to write this story.
They met there, every day at the same time, and never with the same mood. It was a large pit dug out in the fields, the bottom was completely even and worn till smooth and compact, three feet bellow the shallowest edge. Trees surrounded all sides of the depression, and the Bruinen River was but a few miles off to south.
His opponent was dressed like he usually was, dark boots that traveled the length of his calves, coal brown leather incased trim thighs and accentuated the round globes of his butt and slim hips. He wore no shirt; the olive coloring of his skin seemed to attract the sunlight which glittered off his sweaty abdominal's, worked firm through hard labor and hours of work and training.
His sable hair was pulled back in a thick-corded rope, bringing out the angles of his cheekbones and his noble nose, thin pale lips, and bright silver eyes that watched with the intensity of a hunter ready to strike out upon its prey.
Elladan was identical to his twin in all but the color of his clothing, their build, and their weapons of choice. Elrohir, a touch more lithe than his brother, carried two long knives, and a smaller pair, one tucked away in each boot. Elladan carried a broad sword in his right hand, and a small knife in his left.
The two brothers circled each other the intensity of their devotion to their quest of extermination, and hatred of the foul beasts that 'dared' to hurt their mother so, shining like beacons of wrath from their blazing eyes.
Elrohir struck out first, knife slashing low, aimed for his brother's belly, but was easily blocked by the short knife the other sported. Elladan swung his sword in an arc towards his brother's neck, using the momentum of his pivot to block his brother's attack, to push himself into a more powerful swing.
Elrohir leaned back hands laid flat upon the ground, and brought his legs up, bringing his knowledge of tactics into play, knowing his brother could not help but continue the swing. So he brought his feet up and kicked out against Elladan's mid-section.
Elladan huffed and lost his balance for only a second before centering himself once more and pulling back as Elrohir righted himself. They continued with the dance around each other, probing for any sign of weakness or an opening they could advantage from.
They had been fighting for hours and had yet to find a winner. Both were covered in sweat, chilling their bodies as it dried in the breeze. Ragged breathing from their exertions burst from their chests. They had engaged in several severe battles that ended with them locked in a contest of strength, which Elladan won. Elrohir was normally superior in his tactician's mind.
The sun was just lowering beneath the mountains when they finally called an end to their daily game, both lowering their weapons and sheathing them. They stumbled over to their baggage and pulled out a canteen of water to share. Then plopped themselves upon the ground and fell down, one atop the other.
They always cuddled close after an intense workout together. This was their way of saying, even though you won, or I won, or it was a draw, there are no hard feelings, and I still love you.
So Elrohir curled himself around his twin, and laid his head in the crook between Elladan's shoulder and neck, nose against his brother's skin, breathing in his scent for comfort. Elladan wrapped an arm around his twin and sighed, pressing a chaste kiss upon his twin's mop of dark hair.
Their father disapproved of everything they did; he gave them stern looks when they joked and teased with friends. He glared when they raged with their frustrations; he gave firm lectures when they ran off to slake their blood lusts upon the disfigured beasts that had purged the warmth and love from their mother's heart.
And the look in his eyes when they snuggled together or showed affection for each other was one of hatred and disgust. They knew what he thought, what most of Imladris thought...
The world thought they were more than brothers, they were closer than they should be, than what was proper. They knew most of Imladris thought they loved and relied upon the other too much... and the world be damned, but that was true.
They also knew that they all thought they were lovers, and sought pleasure from each other. But that wasn't true. Their lusts blazed for the pain and torture of the twisted hideous forms of their distant cousins, and it shone only for that. Their hearts and souls could handle no more than that and so it was enough, though daily they broke anew and the other needed to put them back together.
They also knew that one day, they would not succeed... one day they would wake up, broken and helpless to their grief and none would be able to heal what was left of their sanity... They knew that one day... they would die.
-End-
Type: FPGen
Author: Edward Uwnhai Silverfang (EddieUwnhaiyahoo.com)
Rating: R
Characters: Elladan, Elrohir
Warning: mentions of incest, angst
Disclaimer: Characters and setting do not belong to me, but the plot does!
Beta: LadyHawksShadow
Summary: Elladan and Elrohir think upon their situations.
Notes: I'm joining this to a series of fic's all written listening to a song, this one was 'Dragula' by Rob Zombie. This doesn't necessarily mean the story carries a similar essence to the song or some other such, it just means I was listening to it and it inspired me to write this story.
They met there, every day at the same time, and never with the same mood. It was a large pit dug out in the fields, the bottom was completely even and worn till smooth and compact, three feet bellow the shallowest edge. Trees surrounded all sides of the depression, and the Bruinen River was but a few miles off to south.
His opponent was dressed like he usually was, dark boots that traveled the length of his calves, coal brown leather incased trim thighs and accentuated the round globes of his butt and slim hips. He wore no shirt; the olive coloring of his skin seemed to attract the sunlight which glittered off his sweaty abdominal's, worked firm through hard labor and hours of work and training.
His sable hair was pulled back in a thick-corded rope, bringing out the angles of his cheekbones and his noble nose, thin pale lips, and bright silver eyes that watched with the intensity of a hunter ready to strike out upon its prey.
Elladan was identical to his twin in all but the color of his clothing, their build, and their weapons of choice. Elrohir, a touch more lithe than his brother, carried two long knives, and a smaller pair, one tucked away in each boot. Elladan carried a broad sword in his right hand, and a small knife in his left.
The two brothers circled each other the intensity of their devotion to their quest of extermination, and hatred of the foul beasts that 'dared' to hurt their mother so, shining like beacons of wrath from their blazing eyes.
Elrohir struck out first, knife slashing low, aimed for his brother's belly, but was easily blocked by the short knife the other sported. Elladan swung his sword in an arc towards his brother's neck, using the momentum of his pivot to block his brother's attack, to push himself into a more powerful swing.
Elrohir leaned back hands laid flat upon the ground, and brought his legs up, bringing his knowledge of tactics into play, knowing his brother could not help but continue the swing. So he brought his feet up and kicked out against Elladan's mid-section.
Elladan huffed and lost his balance for only a second before centering himself once more and pulling back as Elrohir righted himself. They continued with the dance around each other, probing for any sign of weakness or an opening they could advantage from.
They had been fighting for hours and had yet to find a winner. Both were covered in sweat, chilling their bodies as it dried in the breeze. Ragged breathing from their exertions burst from their chests. They had engaged in several severe battles that ended with them locked in a contest of strength, which Elladan won. Elrohir was normally superior in his tactician's mind.
The sun was just lowering beneath the mountains when they finally called an end to their daily game, both lowering their weapons and sheathing them. They stumbled over to their baggage and pulled out a canteen of water to share. Then plopped themselves upon the ground and fell down, one atop the other.
They always cuddled close after an intense workout together. This was their way of saying, even though you won, or I won, or it was a draw, there are no hard feelings, and I still love you.
So Elrohir curled himself around his twin, and laid his head in the crook between Elladan's shoulder and neck, nose against his brother's skin, breathing in his scent for comfort. Elladan wrapped an arm around his twin and sighed, pressing a chaste kiss upon his twin's mop of dark hair.
Their father disapproved of everything they did; he gave them stern looks when they joked and teased with friends. He glared when they raged with their frustrations; he gave firm lectures when they ran off to slake their blood lusts upon the disfigured beasts that had purged the warmth and love from their mother's heart.
And the look in his eyes when they snuggled together or showed affection for each other was one of hatred and disgust. They knew what he thought, what most of Imladris thought...
The world thought they were more than brothers, they were closer than they should be, than what was proper. They knew most of Imladris thought they loved and relied upon the other too much... and the world be damned, but that was true.
They also knew that they all thought they were lovers, and sought pleasure from each other. But that wasn't true. Their lusts blazed for the pain and torture of the twisted hideous forms of their distant cousins, and it shone only for that. Their hearts and souls could handle no more than that and so it was enough, though daily they broke anew and the other needed to put them back together.
They also knew that one day, they would not succeed... one day they would wake up, broken and helpless to their grief and none would be able to heal what was left of their sanity... They knew that one day... they would die.
-End-