Kellan Brodie

Summer Showers NC-17

2009-02-15T15:10:34Z

Title: Summer Showers
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: lioness
Characters: Legolas/Gildor
Rating: NC-17
Warning: mpreg
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.
Word Count: 5,610
Summary: Gildor returns to Mirkwood and is given an unpleasant surprise.
Author Note: Written for the My Slashy Valentine exchange. The request was for Legolas mpreg with angst and a rainshower. I tried my best (since I don’t usually write mpreg) to write all the elements in, and I hope my giftee enjoys what I’ve done!

***

Legolas paced the length of his chamber again and again. He crossed his arms over his chest as he made one sharp turn after another, his wheat-blond hair flipping about his shoulders with the force of his stride and the abrupt changes in direction. His mind swirled, the thoughts a jumbled mass of confusion with venomous barbs of fear that pricked at him, tore at the fabric of his sanity each time he returned to the terrible truth.

He halted, the cessation of his movement even more jarring than the frantic turns had been. Closing his eyes, he turned to face his full-length mirror once again. He knew that the reflective surface would reveal what he had already suspected to be true, and he hesitated before finally opening his eyes, his cerulean gaze instantly drawn to the slight rounding of his belly, a bulge that had not been caused by idleness or overindulgence of the berry tarts the kitchens had made all throughout the early summer months.

He was pregnant.

By the Valar, he couldn't understand how it was possible, how his body was even capable of bearing a child, much less birthing one. It explained a few occurrences of the past months; he had felt strangely ill as he woke in the morning, his usual training schedule left him exhausted and ravenously hungry, and for the strangest combinations of food. Unfolding his arms, he let his hands stray to the convex portion of his abdomen.

How was he going to tell Gildor?

Dear Gods, how was he to tell the Noldo?

He felt the thought snag on those poisonous thorns in his mind, spreading fear and doubt through him, turning his heart to a treacherous organ as it pounded beneath his ribcage. Gildor had been his lover for years, and though they had not spoken of marriage, it was clear that what they had was committed. Exclusive. Gildor had to be the father of his child. He had accepted the advances of no others since their relationship had become more serious three summers back.

What would Gildor think upon his return to Greenwood? When he had left before the spring thaw, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. Legolas knew their time apart was drawing to a close; Gildor always returned to him around this time in the summer, wanderlust satisfied and duties performed. What would the golden-haired Noldo say? How would he respond to this drastic shift? Commitment was one thing, but they had entered their relationship with the understanding that they could not bear children and did not particularly wish to do so.

Fear twisted his gut into knots, and he took a few steps back, sitting on the edge of his bed with his abdomen cradled in his hands. He was a proud Elf, a seasoned warrior and Prince to his people. If Gildor wished to break from him because of this pregnancy, this strange miracle granted by the Valar, then he would birth their child and raise it as his heir.

His heart sank as his mind relentlessly circled around the possibility of Gildor's rejection, the consequences of unwittingly providing the Noldo with a child he might not even want. Rising from his bed, he dressed for the day, carefully selecting his clothing to hide the bulge of his belly. No one needed to know just yet. The last thing he wanted was the impressive rumor mill to bring word of his condition to Gildor before he had a chance to speak to his lover himself.

Pulling his hair back into a simple knot at the base of his neck, Legolas left his chambers and navigated the labyrinth of corridors and stairways to the library. It had been too long since he spent some time with Saelbeth, and the kind-hearted councilor never failed to lift his spirits.

Anything to tame the tempest of his thoughts.

***

Gildor hummed to himself as he crossed the bridge that marked the last league between him and his lover. His lips curved into a smile, his spirit soaring, the closer he came. The season had come and gone, spent fetching secrets for Elrond from the east, and now... now he would have his summer-long respite. "Legolas," he said, a laugh bubbling up. The mere thought of his love made his heart lighter.

The inner patrol, warned of his approach by the outer patrol, met him on the other side of the bridge.

"Lord Gildor!"

Gildor raised his hand in greeting. "Cand!"

"It's been a while," Cand said, falling into step beside Gildor.

"Only a season." Gildor looked up at the deep green trees that he knew spoke of the forest's secrets to their master. "Only a season."

Cand ushered Gildor past, the main gates of Thranduil's halls opening. "A lot can change in a season, my friend."

The ominous words caused Gildor's hair to stand up on the back of his neck, but he laughed it off. "As much as can change in a day!" he hollered back, stepping into the dim corridors of the underground halls that sheltered the Wood Elves. He was greeted by several Elves on his way from the mouth of the halls to the Royal Corridor, and his humming resumed. He was eager to see Legolas again. Their reunion for the winter had been brief, as Elrond had called him back before the spring thaw, and he always had that slight insecurity when he was away longer than a season.

Legolas was sought after, his favors desired by many, and Gildor knew that absence sometimes did not make the heart grow fonder. A cold bed was motivation enough for many to seek means to warm it.

With these thoughts in mind, he raised his hand to knock a warning to Legolas' door before he let himself inside. "Legolas?" he called, the door shutting with a quiet click behind him.

Legolas' head snapped up from the pages of the book he had been reading, and he quickly set the text aside. The joy of hearing Gildor's voice after so long was quickly tempered by the weight of the knowledge he held, the burden of uncertainty. Standing from his chair, he rearranged his tunic and took a deep breath before meeting his lover just as Gildor appeared through the door of the antechamber. He couldn't help smiling at the sight of the blond Noldo, and he hastened to bring their lips together, selfishly desiring a kiss before he shared the news he had kept secret from all others.

Gildor moaned softly, wrapping his arms around Legolas' waist to bring them closer together. He quickly took control of the kiss, deepening it, possessing Legolas' mouth with eager desire. "I've missed you," he panted when the kiss ended.

"As I have you," Legolas breathed against Gildor's lips, savouring the feeling of the arms that held him. He wondered if his distended stomach could be felt by his lover, and the worries that arose in his mind made him cherish their closeness all the more. With a final kiss, he drew back, steadying his breath before speaking again. "Gildor, I... I have something I need to tell you."

The worry Gildor heard in Legolas' voice made him frown. "Something I don't want to hear from the sound of your voice."

Legolas swallowed thickly, but his resolve did not waver. "I'm pregnant, Gildor."

Gildor blinked several times, and then laughed. "Very amusing, Legolas."

"This is not a joke, Gildor," Legolas insisted, and his face held a serious, grave expression that made him look uncannily like his father. He had expected the disbelief, and he pulled one of Gildor's hands between them, slipping it under his tunic to rest against the protrusion of his belly. "I'm pregnant. I don't know how... but I am."

Gildor yanked his hand back, wide eyes gazing at Legolas' middle. "Impossible!"

"I thought so as well." Legolas tried to remain calm, knowing his own panic would only make matters worse. "There is no record of a male carrying a child in all of Elven history. I... I suppose I am blessed by the Valar. *We* are blessed."

"Blessed?" Gildor frowned. "*Blessed*?"

Legolas flinched at the combination of Gildor's tone and expression. "I know you did not exactly want children, and you never would have expected to have the opportunity with me, but," he paused, "it is our child. Yours and mine."

"If I had desired children, Legolas, I would have wed a female. I've no life for rearing a child!" Gildor began to pace, his narrowed eyes on Legolas. "A pregnant male... do you know how *wrong* that is? How *strange*?"

His heart aching at the words, Legolas tightened his jaw and crossed his arms protectively over his chest. He did not have a response for Gildor, so he remained silent, watching his lover pace. He had feared such a reaction, but he had prepared himself mentally for the possibility. That did not make it any less painful, but at least his planning had not been in vain.

Gildor pressed his lips together briefly, but it didn't stop the words from leaving his mouth. "And it's mine? You're certain?" He held up a hand, shaking his head. "No. I know it's mine. You would never be unfaithful. That... was unworthy of me."

The wounded look in Legolas' eyes sharpened with anger. "It was," he agreed. "The child is yours. Whether or not you want it seems to be another matter entirely. If something so wrong and strange, so inconvenient to you, has no place in your life... then I am sure you will not miss me in the end." He finally tore his gaze away from Gildor, passing the pacing Elf to take a seat in the alcove near his window. The sky was becoming cloudy, the wind bringing a certain haze that foretold of rain.

"Don't be foolish." Gildor stopped his pacing, ending three steps from the door. He crossed his arms and focused his gaze on Legolas. "Your father would never allow me to abandon you or the child," he pointed out.

Something within Legolas grew frail and broke. His head snapped from the window to Gildor, cerulean eyes blazing. "If the only thing keeping you here is the wrath of my father, then I think you should leave my chambers." He rose from his seat, and, from his bearing and expression, there was no mistaking that it was the Prince of Mirkwood who stood before Gildor, regal and fell. "I will speak to Galion and arrange for more appropriate accommodations. Far be it from me to chain down an endless wanderer."

Gildor became silent, eyes staring steadily at Legolas before he gave a curt nod. "Very well, my lord." He bowed lowly, and then turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. The door shut with a finality behind him, and Gildor did not glance backwards once as he made his way to the barracks.

The silence and emptiness of the room was almost palpable to Legolas' senses, and he stood still for many moments before the truth of the situation sank in. He left his chambers in a rush, all but running through the corridors to the hidden, interior courtyard near his father's private audience room, heedless of the eyes that questioned him as he ran past.

***

Gildor sprawled across the bed in his newly assigned room. His first week back in Mirkwood was already a dismal disappointment. The storm that had rolled in the day he arrived still raged outside the halls, the quiet plink plink of dripping water a constant background noise. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. Legolas was being unreasonable, it was as simple as that. What had Legolas expected him to do when confronted with such insane news? A father? Him? Hardly! He was never in one place long enough for such roots, and he certainly didn't want to begin now!

Damn Legolas!

He sat up and began to pace, agitated and unable to sit still.

A child... of all things the Valar could have given him in return for the hellish days of his life, they give him a *child*! How dare they? How dare they ruin the most joyous thing in his life by seeding Legolas!

A sharp knock sounded at the door, followed by the familiar voice of Saelbeth. "Lord Gildor?"

Gildor growled and stalked over to the door, yanking it open. "What?" The slap of the councillor's palm connected sharply with his cheek before he could stop it, snapping his neck to the opposite side.

"You had better be thankful it is *me* here instead of King Thranduil," Saelbeth spat angrily at the blond Noldo.

Gildor covered his burning cheek with his hand, staring in disbelief at Saelbeth. "Did you just strike me?"

"Not *nearly* as hard as you deserve," Saelbeth confirmed, pushing Gildor back into the room and following him inside. The door safely shut behind him, he glared at Gildor, incensed beyond the point of fearing the Elf, who was over twice his age. "Legolas has refused all company, except his father's and mine, for the last week. Do you have any idea the pain you are causing him, or do you simply not care?"

"He causes his own pain." Gildor rubbed at his face. "How would you expect me to react, Saelbeth? Not only do I come home to a pregnancy I did not consent to, but to a male lover who is *bearing* that pregnancy!"

"I would expect shock, naturally, but outright rejection? Everyone in this realm had all but considered you Legolas' chosen, Gildor! You might be upset about Legolas bearing you a child you did not expect, but how do you think Legolas feels? Did you even bother to ask him? He's frightened out of his wits! No one knows what will happen in another seven months. We don't even know if it is possible to deliver the child through surgery without endangering Legolas himself!" Saelbeth's face grew reddened with resentment. "He was hoping to at least face his fate with you at his side, but instead you have cast him away like some sullied whore from Laketown!"

Gildor slammed his hand against the door. "He is the Prince of Mirkwood! I have *never* treated him as less!" His heart began to pound a frightening rhythm, the idea of Legolas dying, being taken from the world he walked, unbearable.

"You all but called him an abomination. I'd say that's a great deal less," Saelbeth pointed out harshly. Gildor stood silent in the room, his eyes averted, and the silent confirmation was enough to make Saelbeth seethe. "You have treated him like spider fodder, Gildor. The only reason Thranduil doesn't kill you with his own two hands is that Legolas has forbidden him to seek you out. He loves you, and you are being a complete ass. He didn't ask for this to happen either, you realise, and, unlike you, he cannot run from the situation."

"What is it you would like for me to do?" Gildor asked, his voice tight.

"Make up your mind," Saelbeth demanded. "Either accept Legolas and his child or reject them and leave the realm before Thranduil hunts you down. One way or the other, we will not announce the pregnancy to the realm until you have made your decision." Turning, he began to open the door, showing himself out.

Gildor grasped Saelbeth's arm, stopping his friend before he could leave. "Will you give Legolas a message for me?"

Saelbeth's eyes narrowed. "One you can't deliver yourself?"

"Saelbeth."

With a sigh, Saelbeth relented. "Speak your message," he said tersely.

Gildor wet his lips. "Tell him to meet me in our courtyard in two days. I will have made a decision by that time, and I will speak it only to him."

"Your courtyard in two days. I will tell him," Saelbeth promised. With only the barest incline of his head, he left the room, making for King Thranduil's chambers, where they had kept Legolas the last week to save him the discomforts of unwanted visitors and scrutinizing gazes.

***

Legolas wasn't sure why he followed the directions that Gildor had given him through Saelbeth. He didn't want to see Gildor, didn't want to hear the scathing words from his lover's tongue that would signal the true ending of their relationship. The stress of the situation had exhausted him, but even his dreams were troubled, and it seemed that true rest was simply beyond him in the wake of Gildor's reaction.

His father had been his greatest comfort, one who did not turn away when he needed understanding. Thranduil had held him close while he wept, had whispered reassurances to him when he shared his fears. His father would see him through the pregnancy, would care for him if Gildor would not, and that thought had warmed his heart and calmed his tears so he could sleep. If he lost his life during the birthing of his child, his son or daughter would have a home with Thranduil. In the end, that was all that truly mattered.

Legolas didn't flinch as the first drop of rain hit the bare skin of his arm. It was warm in the private courtyard, the usual sweltering heat of the forest tempered by the incoming storm, which followed the conclusion of the last by only a few hours. It was a gentler storm, the rain falling without much wind, and he did not mind when the large droplets began to saturate his sleeveless tunic and the loose length of his blond hair.

Gildor stood in the doorway, watching Legolas turn his face up to the light shower. His lover was breathtaking, golden-hued and slender. Gildor's eyes slowly moved down the length of Legolas' profile, from the honey-colored hair to the slight upturn of the proud nose. From the bowed lips to the strong arms, hands hardened by bow and waist softened by child. He stared at the slight protrusion of the child that grew within Legolas, his head tilted at the fluttering in his own stomach, and a smile gradually turned the corners of his lips.

Quite frankly, with the afternoon light shining through the diamond-like drops of rain, Legolas was the most beautiful sight Gildor had seen in his long years. Suddenly, Gildor knew his answer to the unspoken ultimatum Legolas had issued through Saelbeth.

"Legolas."

His brow twitching at the sound of his name, Legolas consciously kept his eyes closed a bit longer. "Gildor," he whispered in greeting, lowering his head and turning it toward the Noldo before opening his eyes. A small, sad smile managed to curve his lips, but he found he couldn't hold Gildor's gaze for long and turned to look at the summer flowers of the courtyard. "Father said he hopes the child has *his* eyes, like the ones he gave me. I told him I disagree... that I hope it has your eyes instead, that soft grey with an inner light. Perhaps the silvery hair of my mother." If he wept, the tears were lost in the drizzle of rain that fell over his face.

Gildor took several steps into the courtyard. "Misty eyes with your wheat-coloured hair, Legolas." He chuckled softly. "Perhaps a little girl who will trail after you, begging to be taught the bow while I insist she be a lady and learn the court manners befitting a princess."

The words seemed a harsh contrast to the ones Gildor had spoken over a week prior, and Legolas fought the instinct to sob his sadness to the rain. He lifted his hands, unsure whether the slight tremble he saw was from the movement of his fingers or the blurr of the moisture in his eyes. He cradled his belly with both hands. "But you won't be here to teach her proper manners, will you? She'll have to learn them from Thranduil... who will spoil her rotten before she is even a decade old."

"I don't possess the manners to teach her," Gildor said with a small laugh. "I've the court etiquette of a dog, or have you forgotten my initial arrival in Mirkwood?"

Legolas could not help but laugh, though the sound came out somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "You barged into a private, formal dinner, smelling of horse and battle, and all but spat on my father's boots, demanding why no one had told you there were giant spiders between here and Lórien."

Gildor shook his head. "It was necessary information, don't you think?"

"Something you would have known if you had the forethought to ask behind the name of the forest," Legolas managed to tease, finally glancing up at Gildor through the dripping strands of his hair.

Slowly, Gildor closed the space between them, hovering near Legolas' side. "I have been a foolish, stupid Elf."

A spark of hope lit Legolas' eyes, and he nodded his agreement. "You have."

"Have I been so foolish that it cannot be forgiven?"

"You... wish to make amends?" Legolas questioned softly.

Gildor ducked his head, letting out a long breath. "Is it possible to make amends for the needless hurt I have caused you?"

Legolas swallowed and exhaled, nodding his head. "I want you to stay with me. I don't want to be alone throughout this unexplainable twist in our relationship. I... want our child to know you... to love you as a father."

"I never planned to be a father." Gildor hesitantly reached out, his hand cupping the swell of Legolas' abdomen. A smile tugged at his lips. "But some of my greatest adventures weren't planned."

Covering Gildor's hand with his own, Legolas looked into the grey eyes of his lover. "Please stay. Take this adventure with me. Harsh words can be forgiven... and your absence would be felt by us all."

Gildor used his other hand to pull Legolas against him, keeping their entwined hands on the rounded belly. "I would be honored, my prince," he whispered. The rain was cool on his skin, wetting them both thoroughly, and he chuckled. "Your father will be displeased with me for keeping you out in the rain..."

"Not when he sees what we're doing," Legolas insisted, a smile finally curving his lips. He lifted his hand to cup Gildor's face, brushing aside the golden strands of hair and pulling the Elf's lips to his own in a forgiving caress.

After a moment, Gildor lifted his lips. "And what, my prince, are we going to be doing in the courtyard... in the rain... that your father wouldn't be displeased with?"

"Making amends."

Gildor laughed. "I think I would like that." He covered his lover's mouth, teasing along the seam of Legolas' lips, and then delved into the warmth he'd missed for months. His arms tightened around Legolas, pulled the slighter Elf flush against his body, and Gildor took his time reacquainting himself with every crevice of Legolas' mouth.

Legolas emitted a small moan at the thorough kiss, his arms automatically lifting and wrapping around Gildor's neck so their bodies rested as close as possible. Though he was submissive, he was not passive, and his tongue slid along Gildor's, inviting his lover deeper. He wanted to feel that acceptance from Gildor, the claiming possession that would communicate that Gildor wanted him, wanted their child.

Lifting his hands, Gildor cupped Legolas' face, tilting their heads in order to deepen the kiss, accept the invitation offered. The rain fell down, a soft pattering on the leaves and grass around them, and Gildor lingered in the kiss until they were both breathless. He pulled back, licking at rain-slicked lips, and smiled. "We will have a child." Gildor's hand returned to Legolas' belly. "Our child."

The words rushed through Legolas like a wave of summer heat, and he smiled as he panted up at his lover. "Ours." Relief and happiness shined from his eyes, and it seemed a weight was lifted from his shoulders. "Take me, Gildor... Please? I have missed the feel of you... missed you so much these last months."

Gildor raised an eyebrow. "Here?" He shook his head, his wet hair slapping against his face. "In the rain? With no oil?"

"You came to apologise and didn't bring oil?" Legolas chuckled. "How out of the ordinary for you."

A faint smirk curved Gildor's lips. "I have salve..."

"Close enough," Legolas insisted, drawing Gildor down for another kiss, his hands beginning to unfasten the ties of the Noldo's shirt and leggings.

Gildor moaned, his own hands fumbling with Legolas' clothing. "Impatient, aren't you?" he teased.

"I thought you were going to leave," Legolas said softly, "and having already been apart from you for months, I want you close again." The last of the ties holding the front of Gildor's shirt finally gave, and he parted the fabric with an appreciative sigh. The Noldo's torso was not without the signs of battle, just as his own bore scars from years defending Mirkwood from the darkness that plagued the forest. All the imperfections, however, were what Legolas adored about the other Elf, and he ran his hands down the expanse of tanned skin, from collar bones to the damp edge of Gildor's trousers, and then back up. He pushed the fabric down Gildor's arms, pulling until the moisture-adhered fabric abandoned the Elf's skin, falling to a pile in the green of the grass below their feet.

"Close?" Gildor pulled Legolas' tunic over his head, tossing the fabric to the ground with a wet plop. "Are we not close enough now?" He ran his hands along the wet planes of Legolas' back, fingers gliding along his lover's spine before dipping below the soaked leather of the Wood Elf's breeches. "Or do you want closer?" he murmured, dipping his head in order to suck at the pounding pulse in Legolas' throat.

"Closer," Legolas gasped, pulling apart the fabric of Gildor's trousers and unceremoniously slipping his hand inside. Despite his haste, he was incredibly gentle, his strong hand stroking up and down the length of his lover's sex.

Gildor threw his head back, crying out to the cloudy sky as his face was kissed by the rain. The calloused hand teased him, drew him deeper into the haze of lust he felt. "Not... close enough," he panted. He withdrew from Legolas' grip and bore him to the ground, kissing sweet lips while his hands removed the clothing that barred them from one another.

The ground was soft beneath Legolas' back, the rain-moistened grass like a cushion of vibrant green that contrasted with the golden color of his wet hair. The slick feel of Gildor settling between his legs, their nude torsos pressed against one another, was glorious, the weight of his lover comforting, and the brush of their lengths arousing. Lifting his legs, he angled his hips up, groaning at the shift of weight to his groin and the swell of his abdomen. "We... haven't done this... since you... somehow seeded me," Legolas laughed breathlessly between kisses, his hands travelling along arms and shoulders.

Gildor panted against Legolas' lips, rain running down his back, between his buttocks, and he moved steadily against his lover. "It was a... memorable... parting," he said, licking at raindrops pooling at the hollow of Legolas' throat. "The memory of your cries... kept me warm during the... cold nights."

"I thought of it... often as I touched myself..." Legolas admitted with a moan. "Please, don't make me... wait much longer."

"Waited too long already." Gildor snatched up the salve from his discarded trousers. Within moments, he groaned, his slick fingers sliding into the tightness of Legolas' body. "So beautiful..."

Legolas let out a soft cry, his eyes opening for a moment to take in the sight of Gildor settled between his legs. He had to blink several times, the rain hitting his lashes and seeping down into his eyes, but the single look was enough to pull another moan from him. He pushed down against the intrusion, his body adjusting swiftly thanks to his own habits while Gildor was away. "Valar, I have missed you!"

Gildor leaned over while his fingers moved in and out. "As I have missed you." He drew Legolas' sex between his lips, suckling upon the tip as his fingers stroked the gland hidden along his lover's passage. It was glorious to have Legolas beneath him once more, the taste and feel of Legolas overwhelming his rational mind. He wanted to be buried inside his golden archer, and his impatience showed in the swift movements of hands and mouth.

"Ai!" Legolas cried out softly, his head thrown back against the grass. The coolness of the rain was a stark contrast to the heat of Gildor's mouth, and he instinctively thrust into the warmth while the rain beaded down his bare skin, caressing every inch of him as if it was an extension of Gildor's erotic will. "Please, Gildor... join us."

Drawing off of Legolas, Gildor smiled down at his lover. "You beg so beautifully." He smeared the ointment over his shaft and positioned himself at the opening to Legolas'. Gildor paused, trembling with restrained need, and ordered, "Look at me, Legolas..."

Obeying the command, Legolas lifted his head and opened his eyes, meeting his lover's stunning grey gaze, which was darkened like the rain-laden clouds above their heads.

With their eyes locked together, Gildor slowly breached Legolas' body, his breath caught in his throat. As he made that first, slow thrust, he caressed Legolas' distended stomach with his hand. "You are both... mine... Legolas. No other... *ever*."

Legolas moaned, the intimacy of their joining compounded by the look in his lover's eyes and the possessive words spoken. It was exactly what he had silently wished for, to be claimed along with their child. "No other," he panted, his legs locking around Gildor's hips when the Elf rested completely inside him. "I want... no other. Just you."

"Just us," Gildor breathed just before taking Legolas' mouth in a sweeping kiss. The rhythm he set was slow, deeply personal. His hips moved in the perfect cadence, thrusting with the beat of their hearts mingled with the sound of distant thunder. It was the perfect reconciliation, the ideal reunion, and his hand never left the curve of Legolas' stomach as he rocked in and out.

That single touch to Legolas' belly seemed to heighten all his senses, and he moaned into Gildor's mouth again and again. He could feel the perfect glide of their bodies, could feel the wet brush of Gildor's hair against his face and shoulders, and every drop of water that fell from Gildor's skin to his own was like a jolt of lightening through his hypersensitive system. His doubts and fears regarding Gildor's love of him were scattered to the wind as they moved in tandem, perfectly matched and passionate in their slow intimacy.

Gildor's rhythm began to falter, his breath shuddering against Legolas' lips. His hand finally slid from his lover's belly and wrapped around the eager length pressing against him. "Together," he whispered, stroking Legolas firmly. "Want to... feel us... fly together."

"Together," Legolas echoed, his voice soon lost in a series of moans. All too soon, his length began to swell in Gildor's grasp, and he keened as a peel of thunder joined the pounding in his ears. He bowed against the soft earth, sweat and seed joining with the rain as his release swept through him like a great wave from the sea that he had not yet seen.

As Legolas' body convulsed around him, Gildor's shuddered, and he buried himself to the hilt as he spent himself inside his lover. His shout joined Legolas', offered up to the forest and the stormy sky. His back bowed sharply for a prolonged moment, and then he collapsed against Legolas. He peppered weak kisses over wet skin, a sated smile plastered on his flushed face.

His breath slowly returning to normal along with his heartbeat, Legolas lifted tired arms to encircle Gildor's shoulders. It took some effort to lift his head, but it was more than worth it when he opened his eyes to see such a beautiful expression on his lover's face. "Please stay..."

Gildor brushed back wet strands of spun gold from Legolas' face. "Of course I will stay. I will not abandon you or our child."

Legolas kissed his lover, soft and grateful. "I want you to be here when I... have to give birth. I am afraid, Gildor," he murmured. It was uncommon for Legolas to admit his fears, but he was afraid of the process that would be devised for his unprecedented birthing.

"I would not miss that moment for all the mithril in your father's treasury." Gildor smiled, kissing his way down Legolas' chest.

His spirit soothed by the words and the obvious affection with which they were spoken, Legolas slowly propped himself up onto one of his elbows, his other hand combing loosely through the wet strands of Gildor's hair.

Gildor drew his tongue over the tight flesh of Legolas' belly, his eyes turned upward as his hands cupped the proof of their mating. He pressed feather-light kisses to the swell, smiling up at his lover, his love and excitement there to be seen in the grey depths of his eyes. It was a new adventure, one they would experience together, and at the end of it, they would be a family.

"Our family," he whispered to his child, his eyes holding Legolas' as the rain gradually stopped.

The End

Wow, she lives

2008-11-16T23:01:40Z

Life has finally let up.

I hope to continue my dark Glorfindel series as well as work on the other tables. With the holidays, this will be easier. I've missed writing and now I have the opportunity. I won't waste it. :D

To help kick me in the butt, I've decided to join the secret santa fic swap. That should be an interesting endeavor. Wish me luck. I think I'll need it.

Debts

2007-06-08T15:40:26Z

Title: Debts
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: Unbeta'd at present
Characters: Glorfindel
Prompt: Torture, 50_darkfics
Word Count: 509
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.
Author Note: You can find my table here. All stories in the table relate to this one, they are merely out of order at present.

---

The grey eyes watched the golden-haired Elf as he walked from the bed to the balcony and back again. They followed Glorfindel as he then walked from the bed to the wardrobe. They kept careful, obsessive track of every movement Glorfindel made, no matter how mundane. The owner of the eyes was certain that the Elf would eventually shed the act of innocence.

His jaw clenched as Glorfindel bent to inhale the scent from a vase of wildflowers someone had left behind in the room. The look of absolute bliss on Glorfindel's face as he lifted his head from the colourful bouquet made Elrond's blood boil. Just watching the Elf was pure torture.

It wasn't fair.

Glorfindel wasn't supposed to be the one here. Last night, life in Lindon had briefly seemed to shine brighter when he'd thought he'd been granted what he sought. But, no. He'd been left with this.

He watched Glorfindel stand and glance around the room. The bright blue eyes landed on Elrond, who had been lurking in the shadows near the door. Instantly, Glorfindel's body tensed and the joy Elrond had seen before in his face evaporated. That visible shift in mood annoyed Elrond even more.

Elrond stepped forward, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, and took in the shabby clothing Glorfindel wore. "Have you no pride in your appearance?" he snapped.

"I wear what I've been given," Glorfindel replied smoothly.

"I will have appropriate clothing delivered," Elrond said as he walked to the balcony and looked out over the courtyard below. Glorfindel stood at attention, like the ideal warrior, and remained quiet. Even the silence irked the Half-elf. "You are in my debt, Glorfindel."

Wisely, Glorfindel didn't argue this point.

"You are here by my power. You remain here because I allow it." Elrond turned to face Glorfindel. "You're here because you took Elros' second chance from him so you could selfishly have your own."

Now there was a reaction on the beautiful, noble face. It was anger. Elrond recognized the pinched features well.

"I am here because the Valar chose for me to be here," Glorfindel replied, tightness seeping into his voice. "You may have given them the pathway, but they made the choice for you."

Elrond's hands clenched. "You're here because you are a sly and narcissistic Elf who couldn't realise his time has passed and no one wanted him back."

The barb struck as Elrond had hoped. Glorfindel's mouth snapped shut and his cheeks were stained pink.

"Now, I will go to the High King and explain that the Valar have so kindly returned one of the champions of Gondolin to us. We will find a position for you here, and I will have clothes brought up." Elrond stepped a little closer. "But remember, Glorfindel, that you are not my friend, and I did not bring you back by choice. You owe me your life."

Glorfindel's jaw twitched. "I owe you nothing, Elrond," he said in a low, dangerous voice.

Elrond smiled, and it was a cold, almost frightening expression. "We'll see."

End

A Savage Beast

2007-06-06T14:27:35Z

Title: A Savage Beast
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: Unbeta'd at present
Characters: Glorfindel
Prompt: Feral, 50_darkfics
Word Count: 441
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.
Author Note: You can find my table here. All stories in the table relate to this one, they are merely out of order at present.

---

He was covered in blood and other unsavoury things. His hair was matted, stained red, and his face was ashen. Around him were at least a dozen bodies of Men. At least, from counting the number of torsos -- that was the only way to know.

There was no way to know how many Orcs now laid dead.

His chest heaved from all his activity, and blood dripped steadily from his sword to the ground.

All he smelled was blood.

All he saw was awash in crimson.

A noise behind him.

Glorfindel swung around to see Elladan, and in the young Elf's arms was his mother. Celebrían was just as pale as Glorfindel, but her eyes were wide and glassy while his were narrowed and burning with hatred. Elladan said nothing. He merely mounted his horse, carefully balancing Celebrían in his lap, and rode off, leaving Glorfindel behind in the massacre.

He watched them ride off, his hand tightening painfully on the sword's hilt, until the dam broke within him and he screamed. It was a long, ragged sound, and he spun around and buried his blade in the chest of the nearest corpse.

Staggering backward, Glorfindel felt the heat of tears on his cheeks, the tightness of a sob in his chest. He looked around at the carnage, all created by his own hand, and he screamed again.

Blood.

Nothing but blood. Tainted and evil, chaste and pure. So much blood on his hands!

Glorfindel fell to his knees, head bent, and wept. It was a never-ending nightmare. This life he'd woken to centuries and centuries ago. Always too late, never good enough, and through all his pain and torment, he'd let what made him good and virtuous rot. He'd lost himself to this sea of hatred, and Glorfindel wasn't certain he could ever return to what he had been.

To the Elf Ecthelion had called friend.
He was nothing more than a savage beast.

An animal to be caged and beaten and starved.

Glorfindel couldn't escape his very being! Oh, how he'd tried... how he had tried to swallow his rage and just endure.

Now... now Celebrían had been...

Glorfindel took a deep, shuddering breath, and stood up. He yanked his sword from the corpse and called for Asfaloth. The white horse trotted up to him, nuzzled his face with worry, and Glorfindel pulled himself onto Asfaloth's back. He was tired.

He should have escorted Celebrían as she'd requested he do.

He should have convinced her to remain in Imladris until he could have taken her.

He should have done so many, many things.

Valar, what would happen now?

End

Suffocating Shadows

2006-10-16T20:04:22Z

Title: Suffocating Shadows
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: Alcie
Characters: Glorfindel, Celebrían
Prompt: Darkness, 50_darkfics
Word Count: 415
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.
Author Note: You can find my table here. All stories in the table relate to this one, they are merely out of order at present.

---

Glorfindel slammed the door to his chambers, his breath short and his eyes blazing.

Damn the Peredhel! Damn him to the fires of Morgoth and to the Void with any threat Elrond held over him. If death was what was meant for him, a second time, then he would meet it with his held high. He would not crawl on his knees and beg Elrond to keep him around like a dog meant to be kicked again and again because its master was merely bored.

A knock, light and soft, crept beyond the pounding of blood in his ears.

"Come!" he shouted as he slammed his fist into the cold, rough stone of his chamber wall.

Celebrían entered, closing the door quietly behind her. She leaned against the rich oak, her white dress and silver hair made brighter by the darkly-stained wood. "Glorfindel, I do not tend to agree with how my lord treats you, but I have to say I am equally disappointed in what you have done."

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before turning to face her. His eyes were still dark, roiling tempests of anger and humiliation warring for supremacy. "I did what I had to."

It was Celebrían's turn to frown, for her eyes to grow serious. "You have damaged Elladan. Turned him into something neither his father nor I can recognize. That was not something you had to do."

"I taught him something very important," Glorfindel snapped.

She nodded once, very slowly. "I see. You have also taught me something very important then: I cannot trust you with my children. You have made Elladan into a confused and brutal adult... I fear now what you may have done to Elrohir."

Elrohir was such a sensitive and quiet Elf, and Glorfindel could see in her gaze just what she thought had made him such. Bile rose in his throat at the mere idea of molesting the solemn-eyed son of his captor. For a brief, encompassing moment, he stepped outside himself and saw this tangled and bloody web that bound all of them together in this perpetual waltz of sorrow. He shook his head, knowing that -- at last -- he could see it all.

He saw, as she left him in the darkness of his misery, just what he had begun all those centuries ago. The far-reaching destruction of each of his actions that led to this empty room full of suffocating shadows and laughing skeletons.

The End

Diamonds and Rust

2006-08-25T04:57:13Z

Title: Diamonds and Rust
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: Alcie
Characters: Maedhros/Fingon
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.
Author Note: AU since we know Maedhros and Fingon were never in New York. :) This was inspired by Joan Baez's "Diamonds and Rust", which is where the title of the story comes from, obviously. I hope you all enjoy it!

---

Winter had come early in New York.

How many years had passed? Eru, how many more would? If he had known this is what life would have been like, he never would have come back. Even with endless Ages of experience, with life and death understood, he was still in a one bedroom, ninth floor walk-up whose radiator didn't work, and only managed a yellowish liquid that was supposed to pass for water out of his taps.

Sitting in his lone, worn chair, Fingon looked out of his dirty, frosted window, staring at the snow and the traffic. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to relax. Work had been long, and he'd found he wasn't a people person. He hated working at the diner, serving coffee and mopping up piss in the men's room. What had possessed him to abandon Aman for this?

He knew.

He knew what.

Didn't make it any easier to swallow when he had been alone for almost a century.

Had a hundred years actually flown by? Yes, but ten years ago he'd caught a glimpse of the copperhead, ducking into a cab in DC. On a night much like this one, with the snow falling and the moon pregnant in the sky...

Fingon was pulled from his reverie as the phone rang, sharp and shrill. It danced down his spine and made him shiver. He unfolded his aching joints and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, cousin."

His whole body froze as his heart lurched. "I didn't expect you to call."

The voice over the line was rough, perhaps a little tired, but it chuckled with true amusement. "Of course you didn't. Not sure why you would."

Fingon closed his eyes. Because I always hoped you would. "Where are you?"

"Near. How long's it been?"

"A decade, more or less."

"Ah, yes," he said fondly in return. "My begetting day. You bought me cufflinks, I think."

Fingon sat on his cold floor, unable to continue standing and the phone wouldn't reach his chair. "Yeah. Cufflinks."

"Didn't I get you something?" There was a long exhale. "You up for a visit, cousin?"

"When?"

"You busy now?"

"No."

"Meet me by the fountain in the Square? Half an hour?"

Fingon nodded, even if Maedhros couldn't see it. "Yes. Half an hour."

"See you then." And the line went dead.

He sat there, staring at the grimy wall while the phone beeped harshly in his lap. The Elf saw a much different time, when a rugged redhead had captured his heart and taken it with him. Led him from home and family to a world so far removed from what they remembered.

Looking back, it seemed almost a happy, haphazard circumstance, how he had come to love and hold his own cousin. It had also been a sad inevitability that he would never truly keep Maedhros' attentions for too many years at a time. Maedhros burned with wanderlust, but Fingon had only wanted to find home and happiness. More than what could be stolen in some seedy rest stop bathroom stall with hardly any lube or space.

Fingon had to give Maedhros credit, though. His cousin had tried. Spent several years in an apartment, holding down a job, and making love in a bed and having dinner parties with colleagues.

But it had ended, just as Fingon had known it would.

He pulled himself up, replacing the receiver on the cradle, and proceeded to dress. Fingon arrived at the fountain with ten minutes to spare, but he wasn't early. Standing a dozen feet away, brown leaves falling, his copper hair dusted with ice, was Maedhros. He was tall and proud still, unbent and well-dressed. Fingon felt a moment of shame for his own shabby attire, but it was his best.

A far cry from days when he wore silk and mithril, gold and emeralds, wore a sword at his side and rode a black charger into battle.

Maedhros held out his hand without saying a word, and he took it. In silence they walked from the Square and toward a nearby hotel. When Maedhros had said near, he hadn't been lying. It warmed Fingon to think that his cousin had come here for him, chosen a hotel so close to his apartment. Their breath came in great clouds of white as they paused to look at each other before entering the hotel lobby, mounting the stairs towards the second floor.

Fingon wasn't certain how it had happened. Clothes had been shed, bodies relearned, hands exploring spots once adored. He arched under the cascade of copper, gazed up into blue-grey orbs that were dark with desire. His body was worshipped, his cries and gasps captures and devoured. When the two moved as one, Fingon's eyes filled with sad longing as he gripped Maedhros' surging back, holding tight.

Too quickly the passion came to its end, and Fingon continued to hold onto Maedhros' hand, savouring the bitter duality of sated pleasure and aching muscles.

"You missed me, then?" he asked with a wistful smile.

"I don’t know what you're talking about," Maedhros replied, turning to press kisses to the long, pale column of Fingon's throat.

Fingon purred, tilting his head back. "Nostalgia?"

"I never get nostalgic, Fingon. You know that." Teeth nipped at tender flesh, caused new bruises to blossom.

The younger Elf's eyes focused on the ceiling, sorrow flooding ever fibre of his being. "If it wasn't because you missed me, and it wasn't nostalgia, then why are you here?"

"Because I want to be." Maedhros was always good with vagueness. Clever with words. And Fingon clung to that vague statement, took it to mean more than it probably did.

Because he needed to.

He needed to believe Maedhros had called, had come, because the copper-haired Elf loved him.

Swimming in his own memories, in all the vividness of their past and all nights such as this one, Fingon turned his face toward Maedhros'. He kissed him, teeth and tongue, pressing his body to Maedhros' again. Needy, hands gripping with more force, he tugged and panted, quietly begged.

He loved this legend, this glorious, fiery Elf so like his father, and Fingon was swept along the tide of memory and lust. If Maedhros was offering him anything, anything, Fingon knew he would snatch it. It didn't matter he'd already paid the greatest price, the loss of his beautiful home among the Valar, and if the ultimate price would be his very soul, then...

Fingon gasped as Maedhros entered him a second time that night, wrapped his legs tightly and gave himself up.

Price be damned.

End

Endless Servitude

2006-08-25T03:51:29Z

Title: Endless Servitude
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: Alcie
Characters: Glorfindel, Elrond, Gil-galad
Prompt: Slave, 50_darkfics
Word Count: 715
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.
Author Note: You can find my table here. All stories in the table relate to this one, they are merely out of order at present.

---

"I'll go with Oropher's group," Glorfindel announced, eyes glittering darkly in the dim lights of the tent.

Elrond clenched his jaw, wanting to remind Glorfindel that it wasn't for him to decide whose campaign he went with. However, Gil-galad nodded solemnly.

"A wise decision. He is a headstrong Elf and refuses to march with us. With a warrior of your prowess, Oropher's host might increase their chances at surviving. Perhaps you can help." He turned to Elrond. "What do you think?"

The Half-elf smiled coldly. "Whatever my King desires."

Gil-galad looked back at Glorfindel. "Very well." The High King excused himself from the Herald's tent, leaving lord and warrior together. Elrond glared, seethed, and Glorfindel returned the poisonous gaze impassively.

"It should please you, my lord," Glorfindel finally said as he crossed his arms. "You may very well be rid of me by sunset tomorrow."

"It is not your place to decide that." Elrond was just as tall as the blond, and he stood only inches from him now. "You betrayed me--"

"I did no such thing! It was your lack of experience that betrayed you, Peredhel." Glorfindel's eyes grew shadowed. "I grow weary of your bellyaching, your constant guilt for something I had no control over."

Elrond's fists were balled at his sides, a murderous glint to his grey eyes. "You are here, Glorfindel. You returned when I called for another. I called loudly. I made my desires clear. You betrayed me when you returned and not him."

Glorfindel laughed. "Can't even say his name, Elrond? Come now. You were but a child. Daring things you shouldn't have. Playing with magics best left alone. Instead, your selfish wishes resurrected something best left dead!"

"Yet I did not, and now you are mine, Glorfindel. You do not decide when you leave, when you die. I do." Elrond's voice was quiet, dangerously low. "A pathetic warrior who did not save his city and only saved the refugees by accident--"

Sapphire eyes flashed and Glorfindel stepped forward. "You had best stop there, Elrond," he warned. "I've about had enough of your insults. Your venom."

"What will you do, Glorfindel? Hmm?" the Half-elf asked.

Glorfindel knew what Elrond was trying to do. He was goading him. He wanted to see a reaction, to know the power and sway he possessed. Glorfindel tried not to give in, but the insults... the pushing... if Elrond wasn't careful...

"You are nothing but a has-been. Whose time was spent and you dared to exploit an opportunity when it appeared. Weak. Brought to your knees, first by death and now by me." Elrond chuckled bitterly. "Unless the rumours of Ecthelion are true?"

Now Glorfindel's face was in Elrond's. "Do not say his name. Don't taunt me any further this night, Elrond." There was the line, drawn in the proverbial sand. Glorfindel was a kinslayer, having bloodied the shores of Aman when he rebelled with Feanor. That light, the power he had returned with -- power even Galadriel feared at times -- it shone bright, a fire in his blue, blue eyes. "You wanted a reaction?" he asked slowly. "Here it is. I will march with Oropher tomorrow. I will fight alongside his son. I will defeat the foe. And when that is done, when Sauron is defeated, my debt to you is paid." He lifted his chin. "I am done, Elrond. I've suffered your abuse long enough."

Elrond moved around Glorfindel to the tent flap. "You are mine, Glorfindel." He stared at him for a long time, the night sky glowing crimson behind him. "You are a coward. It's something I've been sure of since you woke that night. I saw the fear in your eyes. You don't want to go back to Mandos. You will fight. You will survive. But you'll never have suffered enough, and you will never be done paying your penance."

Then he was gone, walking toward the High King's tent.

Glorfindel trembled with fury.

He drew his sword, screamed, and pierced his cot. Panting, he glowered, eyes filmed with tears of absolute frustration. How long was he to pay his penance? Since death he'd been paying.

Despite Elrond's parting words, Glorfindel knew. After this assault on Mordor, everything would change. This... this game had been played by Elrond's rules long enough.

It was time to take control.

End

White Rose

2006-08-22T05:35:49Z

Title: White Rose
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: Alcie
Characters: Glorfindel, Elrond, Celebrían
Prompt: Love, 50_darkfics
Word Count: 1400
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.
Author Note: You can find my table here. All stories in the table relate to this one, they are merely out of order at present.

---

Glorfindel entered the chamber without knocking. Inside, the Lady prepared her bags, carefully choosing what she would take and what she would leave behind. His jaw was clenched and he came to stand very close behind her.

"All joy cannot be gone."

Celebrían looked up from her packing, her eyes dull and bottomless, full of ever-present pain. "Of course it can be. There is nothing that binds me here. What joys I found were taken from me that day."

"And you turn your back on husband, children, friends?" he asked her accusingly.

She smiled beautifully, the expression full of sad serenity. "Even deep loves of the heart, Glorfindel."

For the first time in many, many years, his eyes shimmered. She was what kept him sane. She was the one who loved him. Who else in all of Imladris loved him without conditions or expectations? She defended him, even protected him at times, and now, this shining woman... this ideal he had known for so many centuries... she would not be here come nightfall.

"Please," he said with a thick voice. "Please don't do this."

Her cool hand -- they were always cool now, like all heat and passion had been drained from her -- rested on his cheek. "I have to. This isn't doing me, or anyone else, any favours. All it does is prolong the inevitable. Glorfindel, there are times you must let go."

He did something then he had never allowed himself to do. Glorfindel wrapped his arms around Elrond's wife and held her tightly to his body. He buried his face in her fragrant hair and allowed memory to assail him.

The Elf woman was sprawled out on the green grass that was found surrounding the house. The valley was lush, and she was idly reading, her feet bare, her white dress spotted with the stains of the grass. She looked up from her book to see him staring. He knew who she was and glanced away quickly.

"Glorfindel!" she called, beckoning, and he joined her in that vale, surrounded by roses and daisies.

Her arms slipped around him, holding him close to her, humming softly. "All pains pass. Even this one will. In time, we will meet again. I know we will."

"Who will be here to duel with Elrond when I am backed into a corner, my lady?" he asked her into her silver hair. "Who will rescue me from the darkness of imprisonment? Who will understand..."

Celebrían smiled, kissing his temple. "There will be others, if you allow there to be."

He nodded, pulling away from her, hands lingering on her waist. "You know I'll never do that."

She brushed away locks of his golden hair, her face dark and troubled. "I know, golden one. I know."

When his duties permitted, he watched her. The Lady of the Golden Wood's daughter was a wild spirit, one that would not be tamed by marriage or motherhood. Celebrían would spend hours dancing in the rain, running through the halls laughing, or tossing a berry at her husband's severe countenance.

Glorfindel absolutely adored her.

They held hands, bowed their heads and shared thoughts, specific thoughts. Eyes blazed silver, saw not the room, but what the other offered. It was a parting gift, something they had never done, and Celebrían was the one to draw away first. Her blue eyes shone bright with tears, the blue-silver made ever deeper by them.

"I love you, too. My confidante. My friend. My ally." She kissed him again, a brush of lips, but it was all innocent and chaste. Never had there been passion between them, and neither wanted that. What they had need from each other had been understanding, and they had found it.

"You will be missed. The Bruinen will weep for the loss of your laughter. The willows will tremble with their sorrow. The very grass will never be quite as green," he replied in a low, quiet voice. "My days will be less because you will no longer be a part of them."

Late at night, by the fire in her bower, he would sit and watch her rock and knit. They would speak of the past. Of choices made. Of regrets remembered. And always, when they would talk and she would favour him with a glance, he could see such deep mysteries in her eyes. Faith in what was not seen, not said.

Firelight dancing on fair features, she would sing, calming his tattered and abused spirit. She offered him respite, something he almost never had in Imladris. Her gentleness tempered Elrond's ire. Her quietness tempered Glorfindel's fire. And her mildness would soothe the worst of trespasses between Elf and Half-elf.

She was Glorfindel's champion as surely as he had once been Gondolin's.

The rains poured outside his windows.

As he had said, the days were muted and drab without the light of Imladris' white rose to flit from damp hall to damp hall. He lay on his side on his bed, staring out at the sheets of water that fell. All duties had been put aside this day to mourn the sailing of Elrond's wife.

His door opened without a knock and Elrond strode in.

"Enjoying the dreary day?" Elrond demanded coldly.

"Oh yes, my lord. Rain always brings out the best in me," he replied without standing, or even turning around to face the Half-elf.

Elrond scoffed. "She wasn't even your wife."

"No, she was yours. So tell me why you are here goading me instead of pining for her." Glorfindel turned tired eyes to Elrond. "Did she mean more to your lowly servant than she did to her husband?"

The Half-elf glared at him. "She told me to give you something. I promised I would. If I had my way--"

"I know what you would have if the world revolved around your whims," Glorfindel said, sitting up. "What is it she had to give me through you instead of when she and I last spoke?"

Elrond tossed the package to the bed. "I haven't a clue." He stood there, waiting. Glorfindel know Elrond's curiosity had him, and he slowly -- very, very slowly -- unwrapped the box.

When he opened the rosewood box, his eyes stung as he gazed down at its contents. Nestled on golden velvet was a rose. The opal petals open wide as if begging for more sunlight, its stem and leaves carved from jade. A white rose from the Silver Queen of Imladris.

"Why did she give you that?" Elrond asked, his harsh tone breaking into the warm love that had blossomed in Glorfindel's breast. The voice froze that love, froze the tears, and Glorfindel looked up at Elrond with an impassive face.

"Why white roses?" Glorfindel asked her one day as they walked the gardens. All white roses!

Celebrían cut one from a nearby bush and presented it to Glorfindel. "They means innocence. Purity. They represent the anticipation of happiness. Unity." She met his eyes. "I planted these bushes in this courtyard the day I met you. Remember this was all grass and yellow roses? I had them move the yellow bushes and daisies, and I had them plant bush after bush of white roses for you."

Glorfindel tilted his head curiously. "For me?"

"One day, oh glorified yet tormented hero, you will find happiness and unity. You will rediscover your innocence. You already possess loyalty, even to those who would cause you anguish, and you revere all around you even if most do not know it." She laughed then, tucking the rose into his tunic. "So I give you a garden of hope. Hope for happiness and peace, love-of-my-heart." Then her gaze grew serious. "And, should I ever... go away... you can look at them... you can look at the white roses... and think of me.

"I love you, Glorfindel, not as a lover or a mate, but as so much more than a mere friend. But sometimes... sometimes you must let go... and when we are forced to part, you can have me here, in this garden." She kissed him then, softly on the mouth, then stepped back, blushing. "Ghost of a rose for you, my friend."

"Because she loved me," was his response.

Elrond stared at him with disbelief, then turned on his heel and left the room in silence.

Glorfindel looked down at the rose again. "And because she loves me still."

End

Knowledge

2006-08-18T18:04:18Z

Title: Knowledge
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: Alcie
Characters: Glorfindel, Elrond, Erestor
Prompt: Blood, 50_darkfics
Word Count: 532
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.
Author Note: I initially forgot to say this -- the line Glorfindel speaks near the end is actually a bastardized line from Kindred. I couldn't remember the line exactly, but that doesn't matter. I like what's there.

---

He'd been following Glorfindel for a month now. Through meetings and practice sessions and boring nights by the library fire while he read. It was enough to drive Erestor mad. Still, Elrond had ordered him to do it after Glorfindel had returned from Thranduil's kingdom, and Erestor had never told Elrond no.

Today was interesting, though. Erestor had tracked Glorfindel through the woods surrounding Imladris. Glorfindel had assembled five of his best warriors and simply... left without a word to Elrond or himself. So, as Elrond had instructed, Erestor followed.

I am not cut out for this, he thought to himself as he climbed a tree. A statesman, that's what I am, not a spy. He situated himself on one of the branches and looked down on the small glade below.

Glorfindel stood in the centre of the five Elves. He had no weapons, but his muscles were taut, prepared to spring.

It happened faster than Erestor's eyes could follow, really. First one Elf raised his bow, then the other four did, and--

He's insane! was the only thought resounding in Erestor's head as he watched Glorfindel deflect arrows or snatch them from the air. As fast as the Elves could draw and fire, Glorfindel evaded being hit. He moved with agility and grace; Erestor couldn't help but watch him with wonder and a little envy.

Then the exercise was complete, all arrows spent and Glorfindel standing in the middle of the circle with one arrow still in his hand. He breathed heavily, his golden skin shining lightly with sweat from his exertion, but there wasn't a mark on him. Not even a tear in his tunic. Erestor shook his head and let out a long, silent breath of relief.

Still... the Elf was obviously insane.

Suddenly, there was blinding, burning pain in his thigh. Erestor looked down to see an arrow through the thickest part of his upper leg -- shattering bone as it passed -- and he turned wide, frightened eyes to Glorfindel. He had thrown the arrow with enough speed and strength to not only pierce his flesh, but drive the arrow through!

It didn't take long for Erestor's head to swim, for his vision to darken, and he cursed the blue eyes that contained smug amusement as he fell from his branch.

---

Glorfindel strolled into Elrond's inner office without allowing his presence to be announced. His tunic and hands were covered with blood, and in one of those crimson-smeared hands was an arrow. He tossed it onto Elrond's desk, uncaring of the parchments now blessed with Erestor's blood.

"Keep your inept spies away from me." His eyes narrowed as he glared down at the Half-Elf. "They simply aren't old enough to know the bad things I can do to them."

Elrond glanced at the arrow, his face remaining calm. "You would not dare cause anyone in this realm harm."

Glorfindel turned, heading toward the door. He spared Elrond one backward glance. "You may wish to consult your Chief Councillor before you make that wager. You'll have to wait until he regains consciousness, though. I'm afraid he passed out from the blood loss."

And he shut the door, satisfied with Elrond's pale, shocked expression.

End

One Day

2006-08-17T18:13:32Z

Title: One Day
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: Alcie
Characters: Glorfindel/Thranduil
Prompt: Branded/Branding
Word Count: 527
Rating: R
Author's Notes: For both 50kinkyways and 50_darkfics.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.

---

He shed his clothing, watching the young King spread out on the bed. Glorfindel's lips curved into a something akin to a smile, but Thranduil thought it was more of a grimace. Was this such a chore for the warrior? Thrandiul frowned, sitting up on his knees. His own golden hair swept his buttocks, and before he realized it, Glorfindel was behind him, hand twisted into the tresses.

"This game of seduction has gone on long enough, don't you think, Thranduil?" he hissed against the pointed ear. "I suppose it wasn't too terrible; you are young yet and will improve your skills."

The fingers of Glorfindel's free hand traced the cleft of Thranduil's backside, and the King stilled. His whole body stiffened. "No--I thought--" but his protest was silenced when Glorfindel's mouth latched onto his throat. With his mouth open wide, he bit into the warm skin, sucking as he did so. Thranduil sunk back against Glorfindel with a loud groan, suddenly willing to do whatever the reborn Elf wanted.

"You thought I would be yours tonight?" Glorfindel breathed, chuckling as his fingers quested. His tongue swept over the blossoming mark. "No, I don't think so, Thranduil. I've branded you tonight, and in the years to come, you'll remember this night and regret."

His fingers touched, stroked, moved, and Thranduil's mind was filled with the fog of arousal. That was all that mattered: not future regret, not present apprehension. Only the need he felt building.

Candle flames were snuffed, then slickness, hardness, grunting in the darkness.

A fog of lust.

---

He lit the oil lamp, the wick low, and looked over at Glorfindel. The Elf slept, and Thranduil's blue eyes took the moment to look over the body that had ravaged him the previous night. He tilted his head, gaze curious, as he focused on an old scar on Glorfindel's left breast.

The skin shiny, like a burn...

Thranduil reached out to touch it, the symbol in the centre so familiar to him...

Glorfindel's eyes filled with awareness and he grasped Thranduil's wrist before his fingers could touch him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," he warned in a low voice. "My scars are none of your concern."

"But..." Thranduil again looked at the brand again, then it struck him. Where he had seen it before. "That is Lord Elrond's seal!" he cried with honest horror. Had he just bedded the Lord of Imladris' lover?

As if reading the thought, Glorfindel scoffed and stood, yanking on his breeches. "He is no lover to me. Neither is he friend."

"What is he then?" Thranduil whispered, all his youth in his eyes at that moment.

Glorfindel tossed him another one of those dark grins, lacing his tunic quickly. "He is my lord and master. One day, that will make sense to you."

"I want it to make sense now!"

"The impatience of youth." Glorfindel picked up his boots and opened the chamber door, his eyes dark with painful memories. "Everything has to be known or had immediately. It's partly why last night ended as quickly as it did," he said before closing the door, the barb filled with venom and cruel amusement.

The End

kellanbrodie @ 2006-08-16T14:26:00

2006-08-16T18:29:13Z

I was going to try and write something for the Kinky Ways challenge... but... man. My head is having some serious problems with trying to get Elves to do kinky things. Like shaving. wtf? It was suggested to me that Thranduil and Glorfindel shave Elrond's dog.

*giggles*

I said it would be fun, but not kinky, which was the focus.

Weakness

2006-08-14T23:15:00Z

Title: Weakness
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: Alcie
Characters: Glorfindel, Elladan
Prompt: Masterpiece, 50_darkfics
Word Count: 423
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Warning here for BDSMish themes. It's not really sexual in nature, but, warning anyway.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.

---

The oil lamps caused the shadows to jump, to close around the young Peredhel. He shivered, sweat stinging his back, his arms and legs aching from the strain of holding a position for too long.

But Elladan was determined to master this exercise.

He hissed when his tutor's hand moved from the cleft of his buttocks along the mutilated skin of his back to grip the back of Elladan's neck. Hot breath ghosted his ear, a voice of nightmares and fantasies whispering to him.

"Have you had enough?" Glorfindel asked softly.

Elladan swallowed visibly, his hands clenching around the chains that bound him to the ceiling. "Whatever my lord wishes," he rasped, his eyes remaining closed.

Glorfindel chuckled, his hand tightening. "Your body trembles. Tell me why."

"I am sorry--"

"Do not apologize!" Glorfindel stepped away and the crop fell harshly on the already abused back. "It's weakness, Elladan, and the heir to Imladris shouldn't be weak. He shouldn't apologize, he shouldn't tremble, and he shouldn't stare at his father's confidante with lust."

He felt his cheeks burn. He hadn't known Glorfindel had seen him looking at Erestor like that.

"Tell me why your body is trembling," Glorfindel repeated, punctuating the word 'trembling' with another strike of the crop.

Elladan's breath was ragged, his eyes burning. "Because I am weak."

"Why are you weak?" Again, each word was said with a whipping.

"Because I have the blood of Man in my veins."

"And how will you overcome that?"

"Harden my spirit, deaden my heart."

Though Elladan couldn't see, Glorfindel's full lips curved into a pleased, dark smile. His eyes, shadowed and troubled, looked over the pattern of bruises, welts, and shallow cuts his last hour with his captor's eldest son had resulted in.

"Yes. Harden your spirit. Deaden your heart. Just like your father." Glorfindel pressed his clothed chest to Elladan's back. The young Half-elf tensed, tried to arch away, but his bonds prevented it. Glorfindel rested his hands on Elladan's hips, smiling ferally. "You are my masterpiece, Elladan. Agile. Cunning. Beautiful. Do not disappoint me by falling prey to the pull of the heart. If you want to slake your needs then take him, but discard him quickly."

Elladan relaxed, his whole body thrumming, aware of Glorfindel in a new sense. "And if I want to slake my needs with you? Take you and discard you?" he breathed.

Glorfindel laughed, a sharp, sinister edge to it. "Oh, precious boy," he said thickly. "I give myself to none, and I rule all."

End

Will You Ever Learn

2006-08-12T07:09:41Z

Title: Will You Ever Learn
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: Alcie
Characters: Glorfindel, Elrond
Prompt: Nails, 50_darkfics
Word Count: 462
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.

---

He stalked through the halls of the Last Homely House, his blue eyes dark, his fair face shadowed. Yet again he was called before his master, and the Elf had grown weary of these weekly summons. It seemed that, no matter how many years passed, no matter how many deeds he performed, no matter how well he raised Elrond's sons, the Master of Imladris would never forgive him.

Would never let him go.

Glorfindel slid into the meeting room as Elrond and Erestor concluded some bit of business. His jaw clenched to see the Chief Councilor collect his papers and flee the room. How dare Erestor behave as if he were some kind of mon--

"You."

His eyes left the retreating form, his chin lifting almost in defiance as Elrond took a few steps toward him.

"My Lord," he said in a tight voice.

Elrond's own gaze was as cold as the winter skies outside. "Rúmil tells me you have been spending too much time with his brother."

Of course. Glorfindel's lips curved into a darkly amused smirk. "Does he? And has he asked Orophin's opinion on the matter or did he come tell you I was defiling his baby brother?"

"You sicken me," the Peredhel snarled.

"Then send me away," was the immediate response, just as angry.

Now it was Elrond's turn to smile darkly. "You would like that too much, Glorfindel. No. You belong here." A step closer. "You belong to me."

"Are we done?"

"Stay away from Orophin," his Lord commanded, returning to his desk.

"I will not. What I do when off duty is my business, Elrond. Not yours," Glorfindel said with more defiance in his words than he had dared for centuries. But he was tired of this game, this mockery of friendship outside closed doors. He hated Elrond for binding him here, and Elrond hated him for having taken away what was most precious to him. "If you do not want me to spend... time with Orophin, send me away."

Elrond watched him with those emotionless, pitiless eyes, but Glorfindel did not blink. He would not be flogged for something he had not done. This constant sense of quiet crucifixion nails slowly and methodically driven into his wrists, through what was left his heart, was wearing him thin.

"No. You will stay away from Orophin or I will have you imprisoned."

There was a battle of wills. Eyes never wavering, but finally, as always, Glorfindel looked away. Once Elrond had followed through on such a threat. Once was enough.

Three months without sunlight left an impression.

"As you will, my Lord," he spat out before turning on his heel and slamming through the door.

One more nail.

He would be forever hanging from his cross.

End

Loss of Blame

2006-08-10T15:44:04Z

A little note -- this is for the 7 Deadly Sins challenge, but they only update their thing once a week. The inspiration hit for this and I am not going to waste it. So, I am posting it here preemptively and will post it to the appropriate community when I get the all clear from them. :)

Title: Loss of Blame
Author: Kellan Brodie
Fandom: JRR Tolkien
Beta: Alcie
Characters: Maedhros, Fingon
Prompt: Wrath
Word Count: 330
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, but they are fun to play with.

---

"You must stop this!" the Elf cried as he slammed his hand down on the table. "You, out of the seven of you, should understand that someone has to draw the line."

Maedhros' grey eyes remained unreadable and fixed on his cousin. "If this is anyone's fault, Findekáno, I think it yours."

Fingon's eyes narrowed, seeing nothing but a stranger before him. "The wrath of the Valar will fall on the House of Finwë, Nelyafinwë, and it will be your head it cleaves. End this bloody war your father has waged. Elves should not die by the hand of Elves."

"Ever the diplomat; however, I must disagree," Maedhros replied evenly, his face still expressionless -- if showing a little boredom. "The Noldor did not have to follow my father, and neither did you and your family. You could have remained cowering in Aman."

Fingon's jaw clenched as his eyes flashed with anger. "We followed because he spoke all the right words!"

"And now I speak them."

"No!" Fingon bellowed. "No, you say *nothing*. Only draw arms and charge into homes and demand what you think is yours."

"The Silmarilli were my father's, stolen, and we will have what is rightfully ours!" Maedhros snapped, his own gaze growing heated as his tone became sharp.

Fingon leaned over the table, coming closer to his cousin's face. "Again I say nay, cousin. The Silmarilli belong to none. They hold the last of what Ungoliant killed. They belong to Eä, no one else. Your father wanted nothing but revenge. Twisted everyone around him to pursue it. And now you do the same!"

Maedhros smiled slowly. Dangerously. And he rose from his seat, towering over Fingon by a hand's length. "Oh, dearest, most beloved cousin, if that is what you truly believe, then you should have pierced my breast with your blade when I begged you."

Feanor's heir turned on his heel and marched from the room, leaving his cousin to stare after him in disbelief.

End

50 Smutlets

2006-08-07T09:44:17Z

Oropher/Celeborn

001. Day	002. Night	003. Love	004. Lust	005. Rough
006. Gentle	007. Beach	008. School	009. Cemetery	010. Woods
011. Bathroom	012. Bedroom	013. Kitchen	014. Submissive	015. Flying
016. Magic	017. Costumes	018. Paddle	019. Restraints	020. Leather
021. Banana	022. Whipped Cream	023. Oral	024. Voyeurism	025. Erotica
026. On Camera	027. Sight	028. Sound	029. Touch	030. Taste
031. Feel	032. Fingers	033. Lips	034. Biting	035. Phone
036. Computer	037. Fantasy	038. Shower	039. Washing	040. Swimming
041. Spanking	042. Music	043. Toys	044. In Drag	045. Thigh Highs
046. Massage Oil	047. Silk Sheets	048. Chocolate	049. Candles	050. Writer's Choice

25 Fluffy Fics

2006-08-07T09:29:02Z

Maedhros/Fingon

1.	Picnic	2.	Hobbies	3.	Sport	4.	Dancing	5.	Holiday
6.	Candles	7.	Breakfast	8.	Dinner	9.	Blankets	10.	Bath
11.	Massage	12.	Hurt	13.	Nightmare	14.	Home	15.	Birthday
16.	Puppy/kitten	17.	Jealousy	18.	Gift	19.	Flowers	20.	Protection
21.	Sunset	22.	Parting	23.	Reunion	24.	Writer’s choice	25.	Writer’s Choice

Slash Me Twice

2006-08-07T08:51:56Z

Celeborn/Orophin

001.	Shadow.	002.	Light.	003.	Truth.	004.	Lie.	005.	Dare.
006.	Solid.	007.	Liquid.	008.	Danger.	009.	Sharp.	010.	Blurred.
011.	Free.	012.	Bound.	013.	Magic.	014.	Time.	015.	Spirit.
016.	Chance.	017.	House.	018.	Street.	019.	City.	020.	Country.
021.	Cage.	022.	Arena.	023.	Rainbow.	024.	Wind.	025.	I.
026.	You.	027.	We.	028.	Innocence.	029.	Guilt.	030.	Spark.
031.	Flame.	032.	Past.	033.	Present.	034.	Future.	035.	Pause.
036.	Progress.	037.	Flavor.	038.	Aroma.	039.	Fabric.	040.	Dance.
041.	Clean.	042.	Dirty.	043.	Candle.	044.	Fantasy.	045.	Reality.
046.	Oval.	047.	Whole.	048.	Incomplete/Partial.	049.	Coffee.	050.	Animal.
051.	High.	052.	Low.	053.	Trolley.	054.	Tower.	055.	Carriage.
056.	Silver.	057.	Butterfly.	058.	Mask.	059.	Sculpture.	060.	Freak.
061.	Normal.	062.	Meeting.	063.	Masterpiece.	064.	Ghost.	065.	Match.
066.	Penny.	067.	Mouse.	068.	Revenge.	069.	Forgive.	070.	Science.
071.	Kink.	072.	Safe.	073.	Strip.	074.	Flower.	075.	Famous.
076.	Anonymous.	077.	Poison.	078.	Cure.	079.	Moonlight.	080.	Sunbeam.
081.	Blood.	082.	Metal.	083.	Love.	084.	Hate.	085.	Indifference.
086.	Sphinx.	087.	Phoenix.	088.	Magazine.	089.	Ball.	090.	String.
091.	Plane.	092.	Milk.	093.	Voice.	094.	Lick.	095.	Need.
096.	Sand.	097.	Ice cream.	098.	Mail/email.	099.	Map.	100.	Game.

Slash 100

2006-08-07T08:50:29Z

Thranduil/Glorfindel

001.	Beginnings.	002.	Middles.	003.	Ends.	004.	Firsts.	005.	Lasts.
006.	Hours.	007.	Days.	008.	Weeks.	009.	Months.	010.	Years.
011.	Friends.	012.	Enemies.	013.	Lovers.	014.	Strangers.	015.	Classmates.
016.	Family.	017.	Parents.	018.	Children.	019.	Him.	020.	Her.
021.	Birth.	022.	Death.	023.	Life.	024.	Choices.	025.	Accident.
026.	Smell.	027.	Sound.	028.	Touch.	029.	Taste.	030.	Sight.
031.	Sunrise.	032.	Sunset.	033.	Too Much.	034.	Not Enough.	035.	Mask.
036.	Breakfast.	037.	Lunch.	038.	Dinner.	039.	Food.	040.	Drink.
041.	Rain.	042.	Snow.	043.	Lightning.	044.	Thunder.	045.	Storm.
046.	Winter.	047.	Summer.	048.	Spring.	049.	Fall.	050.	Vacation.
051.	Humor.	052.	Angst.	053.	Fluff.	054.	And.	055.	If.
056.	Birthday.	057.	Christmas.	058.	Thanksgiving.	059.	Halloween.	060.	New Year.
061.	Broken.	062.	Shattered.	063.	Hurt.	064.	Agony.	065.	Healing.
066.	Anger.	067.	Love.	068.	Loss.	069.	Jealousy.	070.	Denial.
071.	Sex.	072.	Kink.	073.	Threesome.	074.	Seduction.	075.	Party.
076.	Secrets	077.	Betrayal	078.	Discovery	079.	Confession	080.	Redemption
081.	School	082.	Work	083.	Home	084.	High	085.	Low
086.	Circle.	087.	Heart.	088.	Lost.	089.	Found.	090.	Missing.
091.	Epiphany.	092.	Dream.	093.	Break-up.	094.	Make-up.	095.	Lies.
096.	Writer‘s Choice.	097.	Writer‘s Choice.	098.	Writer‘s Choice.	099.	Writer‘s Choice.	100.	Writer‘s Choice.

Fanfic 100

2006-08-07T08:48:06Z

Thranduil/Glorfindel

001.	Beginnings.	002.	Middles.	003.	Ends.	004.	Insides.	005.	Outsides.
006.	Hours.	007.	Days.	008.	Weeks.	009.	Months.	010.	Years.
011.	Red.	012.	Orange.	013.	Yellow.	014.	Green.	015.	Blue.
016.	Purple.	017.	Brown.	018.	Black.	019.	White.	020.	Colourless.
021.	Friends.	022.	Enemies.	023.	Lovers.	024.	Family.	025.	Strangers.
026.	Teammates.	027.	Parents.	028.	Children.	029.	Birth.	030.	Death.
031.	Sunrise.	032.	Sunset.	033.	Too Much.	034.	Not Enough.	035.	Sixth Sense.
036.	Smell.	037.	Sound.	038.	Touch.	039.	Taste.	040.	Sight.
041.	Shapes.	042.	Triangle.	043.	Square.	044.	Circle.	045.	Moon.
046.	Star.	047.	Heart.	048.	Diamond.	049.	Club.	050.	Spade.
051.	Water.	052.	Fire.	053.	Earth.	054.	Air.	055.	Spirit.
056.	Breakfast.	057.	Lunch.	058.	Dinner.	059.	Food.	060.	Drink.
061.	Winter.	062.	Spring.	063.	Summer.	064.	Fall.	065.	Passing.
066.	Rain.	067.	Snow.	068.	Lightening.	069.	Thunder.	070.	Storm.
071.	Broken.	072.	Fixed.	073.	Light.	074.	Dark.	075.	Shade.
076.	Who?	077.	What?	078.	Where?	079.	When?	080.	Why?
081.	How?	082.	If.	083.	And.	084.	He.	085.	She.
086.	Choices.	087.	Life.	088.	School.	089.	Work.	090.	Home.
091.	Birthday.	092.	Christmas.	093.	Thanksgiving.	094.	Independence.	095.	New Year.
096.	Writer‘s Choice.	097.	Writer‘s Choice.	098.	Writer‘s Choice.	099.	Writer‘s Choice.	100.	Writer‘s Choice.

7 Deadly Sins

2006-08-07T08:44:45Z

Maedhros/Fingon

1.	Greed.	2.	Gluttony.	3.	Wrath.
4.	Sloth.	5.	Envy.	6.	Lust.
		7.	Pride.

</cut>

50 Dark Fics

2006-08-07T08:43:23Z

Glorfindel

Because it's 50 Darkfics, I have removed the fifty I have no interest in writing and have renumbered where appropriate.

001.	Ravished.	002.	Dark Path.	003.	Darkness.	004.	Blood.	005.	Unforgiving.
006.	Hate.	007.	Rope.	008.	Branded.	009.	Torture.	010.	Forsaken.
011.	Need.	012.	Bound.	013.	Nails.	014.	Love.	015.	Angry.
016.	Forced.	017.	Fear.	018.	Conquer.	019.	Slave.	020.	Master.
021.	Brutal .	022.	Ghost.	023.	Unholy.	024.	Power.	025.	Destiny.
026.	Tears.	027.	Masterpiece.	028.	Shadow.	029.	Guilt.	030.	Chains.
031.	Flame.	032.	Past.	033.	Feral.	034.	Broken.	035.	Oath.
036.	Never.	037.	Rain.	038.	Outcast.	039.	Pain.	040.	Sorrow.
041.	Fixation.	042.	Voice.	043.	Candle.	044.	Hunger.	045.	Lust.
046.	Unbound.	047.	Destruction.	048.	Leather.	049.	Razor.	050.	Madness.

50 Kinky Ways table

2006-08-07T04:08:12Z

Thranduil/Glorfindel

1.	Rituals	2.	Cross-Dressing	3.	Spanking	4.	Biting	5.	Oil
6.	Restraints	7.	Non-Con	8.	Leather	9.	Ice	10.	Candle Wax
11.	Medical play	12.	Fear Play	13.	Blood Play	14.	Breath Play	15.	Food Play
16.	Vibrators	17.	Anal Plugs	18.	Whips/Paddles	19.	Handcuffs	20.	Standing in Corner
21.	Spreader Bars	22.	Blindfold	23.	Phone / Voice Sex	24.	Dildos	25.	Orgy
26.	Serving	27.	Tattooing	28.	Dominant	29.	Submissive	30.	Exhibitionist
31.	Voyeur	32.	Branding	33.	Age Play	34.	Cock Rings	35.	Ball Gags
36.	Wanking	37.	Shaving	38.	Clamps	39.	Collars	40.	Virgins
41.	Locked up	42.	More-some	43.	Outdoor sex	44.	Piercing	45.	Role Play
46.	Writer's Choice	47.	Writer's Choice	48.	Writer's Choice	49.	Writer's Choice	50.	Writer's Choice