Star of the sea 2/16; Crush the pedals on the floor.

Author: Azzy
Email: az.ombie[at]
Title: Star of the sea (Playing the liar)
AN: I like a bad ass Glorfindel, so shoot me *laughs*, he won’t continue to be this haughty throughout the entire story tho’. And tell me if I am the only one that really wants to kick Tuor that fucking spineless jerk in the nads! Oh man, I need a life when I can get that annoyed with characters I think up. – urgh.
WIP: 2/19
Fandom: LoTr/silm
Betaed by: Lisbet
Rating: R
Disclaimer: none of these characters are mine, sad but true.
Summary: Ecthelion finally finds out what is nagging Tuor, and the reason for his very strange behaviour. And Glorfindel beams in his fifteen minutes fame.
Warnings: Mpreg eventually.
Pairings; Tuor/Ecthelion Ecthelion/Glorfindel (for ‘Playing the liar’ other and more pairings to come)

In illusion comfort lie
The safest way is straight and narrow
No confusion no surprise.

Sisters of Mercy – Alice

Chapter 2 – Crush the pedals on the floor.

Ecthelion was already regretting that he agreed to come to the feast. Ithildin looked awfully smug, elbowing him when they had gotten a drink. “What about that blond elf in the blue robe over by the window?” he whispered.

Ecthelion looked, and groaned, “I know him, and you can forget it!” Ithildin looked over the crowd and Ecthelion grabbed the collar of his robe. “Don’t even get started, Ithildin!”

“I am just trying to help,” Ithildin whispered back

“Then don’t,” Ecthelion said with a hiss hidden behind a smile.

“As you wish,” Ithildin sighed as he disappeared into the crowd of elves. Ecthelion spotted Tuor right away, he was talking to one of Turgon’s advisors, when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Spinning around, he looked right into the face of the dark elf. “Master Maeglin,” Ecthelion said with a polite smile.

“Lord Ecthelion,” the dark elf said with a toneless voice. “I was asked to bring you this.” He handed him a drink.

“Thank you ever so much, Master Maeglin,” the young lord said, feeling really uncomfortable under Maeglin’s gaze. “I need some fresh air,” he said quickly, excusing himself as he fled from the eerie elf. He could almost feel the relief physically as he inhaled the cold frost air. He slowly sipped the drink Maeglin had brought, which by the way had surprised him more than anything. He was already trying to make up an excuse to leave so suddenly, but all his excuses ended up lame, and he just didn’t know how to escape this party quickly.

“Ecthelion?” a voice said behind him.

The young lord smiled, he didn’t need to look to know whom this voice belonged to. “Tuor,” he whispered as he turned and looked directly at the man. “So good of you to find time in your apparently busy schedule for me.”

Tuor just stood there and shuffled his feet. “I thought you might want a drink, my lord,” he said, holding out a glass to the elf.

The young elf lord took the glass, and placed the old drink on the balcony rail. He wanted to grab this man and shake him till his neck rattled, he wanted to scream and yell, why are you avoiding me? Why are you acting this humble? What is wrong?!, but he just took a sip of his drink and smiled. “Thank you,” he said softly, looking over at the man who seemed to cling to the railing. Ecthelion turned his head and observed him. There was definably something wrong. “Are you not well, my lord?” he said taking a step towards Tuor.

“No, I am not well,” the man said as he looked up. Seeing the young elf’s worried green eyes looking back at him he could have screamed, and within a second he had covered the distance between them and locked their lips in a crushing kiss.

Ecthelion pushed Tuor away with a hysterical move. “What is wrong with you?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” Tuor whispered back.

Ecthelion caressed the man’s cheek with a slender hand. “Maybe you should rest, before you do anymore dangerous and foolish acts.”

“I am sorry,” Tuor mumbled and suddenly fled back into the party, leaving Ecthelion on the balcony.

The elf lord picked up his glass again and took a sip. At least he solved a part of the puzzle, and Tuor was indeed acting most strange. What could have brought on this? The man seemed detached, frightened and certainly most confused. He looked out on the gardens when he felt someone settle next to him, and from the smell of lavender, he could tell it had to be Glorfindel.

“My, my, my Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said in a hushed voice, dripping with acid. “I never thought you went for the rugged mortals.”

Ecthelion took a deep shuddering breath. “I don’t,” he whispered, praying to the Valar that his voice didn’t tremble too much. But as he raised the glass to take another sip, because his mouth had suddenly gone dry, he noticed his hand shook, and chiding himself, he knew that Glorfindel also saw this.

“Oh well, pretty one, this is not the place for this discussion, I shall visit you in some days.” Glorfindel picked up Ecthelion’s ice cold trembling hand and kissed it gently. “Until then, enjoy the party, lord Ecthelion.”

Once Glorfindel had left, Ecthelion let out a breath he had not known he had been holding. “By the Valar… No!… Oh no,” he whispered. Resting his forehead in his palm, he stood like that forever trying to gather up the nerve to go back into the party.

Days went by and Ecthelion saw nothing of Glorfindel. The young elf lord knew that the lord of the golden flower would love this; he would absolutely glow if he knew of his sleepless nights, and his tears when no one was watching. This night he was standing in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea, waiting for Ithildin to get home. His twin was attending a games match, and probably getting very drunk in the process; how he envied Ithildin’s easy going social life.

Leaving the kitchen, Ecthelion was carrying his cup and munching on a piece of bread, when his eye caught something that would have caused him to drop his cup, had he not held on to it for dear life. “Glorfindel,” he croaked, looking wide-eyed at the slender shadow by the patio doors.

“Good evening, dear Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said softly without turning around. “I never thought you for a comfort eater, but then again it seems like I don’t know you as well as I thought.”

Ecthelion swallowed hard and with great effort set down his cup on the dining table. “What do you want from me, Glorfindel?”

Glorfindel broke out into mirthless laughter. “Let us see…” he turned around and smiled in a predatory way at the frightened elf on the other side of the large oak dining table. “I could give my rather unusual information to the king, and then both you and your vile little lover toy would no longer be here, you know that.” Ecthelion nodded slowly, and Glorfindel clapped his hands enthusiastically. “Good! But you see, my dilemma is, that I really don’t care what happens to that horrid little mortal man, but you, my dear beautiful Ecthelion, I wouldn’t like to be the one to take you outside the mountains to an uncertain fait, or maybe not that uncertain. It would involve death for sure.” Glorfindel took two steps towards Ecthelion and the young elf stepped three steps backward. “I am not a cruel elf, Ecthelion. Nothing would give me more joy than to see you remain here in Gondolin.”

“Ho…How?” Ecthelion stuttered, hating the way his voice sounded.

“Give me what I want, my precious,” Glorfindel smirked, pushing a golden lock of slightly curled hair out of his face.

Ecthelion paled. “I cannot give you anything. Ithildin holds all the means.”

“I don’t want anything that Ithildin possesses, and do you really think me that greedy? Or stupid? You cannot buy my silence with money.” The golden elf walked closer, and Ecthelion kept stumbling backward, until Glorfindel picked up pace, and Ecthelion tripped on his robe, landing on his behind, but before he had a chance to get up, Glorfindel was hovering above him. “What I want, is you,” the blond elf said in a husky tone.

“Wh…what?” the raven haired elf gasped, seeing Glorfindel smirk. A bright flame of rage flared inside him, and he fisted his hands, slamming them down into the wooden floor. Looking up at the gloating elf, he screamed at the top of his lungs, “Are you insane? Never in my life would I agree to such an arrangement!”

“Really?” Glorfindel said, trying to maintain his superior smile.

“You are mad, Glorfindel,” Ecthelion shook his head in disbelief. While trying to hold his robe closed with one hand, he pointed at his tormentor with the other. “Get out of my house!”

“If you wish, my dear Ecthelion,” Glorfindel said softly. “I give you a week, then I will take my information to the king. I am sure he is most interested in knowing that his beloved lord of the fountain is kissing his daughter’s fiancé.” And with that remark Glorfindel left Ecthelion on the floor in the dark living room.

“Fiancé?” he whispered to himself. No, it had to be a clever lie, and Tuor would never do something like that! Or?… Could this be the reason why the young man had not come to his balcony for a month in a row? Confused, humiliated and angry, Ecthelion rose from the floor and ran on bare feet to his rooms and locked the door.

Three days had gone by, and by now Ecthelion was a nervous wreck. He battled with himself what to do with this situation, he had tried to tell himself that Glorfindel would never go to the king, but deep inside him he knew that the blond elf would. He had bruised his ego once, and an elf like the lord of the golden flower would not stand for that for long. He had stopped waiting out on the cold balcony at night, lost hope in his beloved to cross the garden ever again. But nevertheless, he kept the drapes open, just in case.

He had not heard anyone approaching when three knocks rapped on the glass of the balcony doors. Ecthelion almost fell off the sofa where he had been lying slumbering. Sitting straight up, he stared at the window, blinking in disbelief waiting for the image to disappear as were it a leftover of his dream. But as the man knocked softly on the glass again, the elf was sure that it was indeed Tuor who had come to see him. He stood up and slowly opened the balcony door; normally they would embrace and kiss, but not tonight. Ecthelion stepped back, watching as his beloved stepped into the room. “I didn’t think you would come back,” he said oddly flat.

“You stopped waiting for me,” Tuor whispered, sitting down on the sofa, wringing his hands nervously.

“No, I never stopped waiting my love,” Ecthelion said softly, sitting down in a chair next to the sofa.

The silence was crushing, and when Ecthelion finally felt like he was about to go insane, Tuor whispered, “This is my last visit.”

So Glorfindel told me the truth, Ecthelion thought, paling. “I had gathered that much,” he mumbled, feeling those treacherous tears well up in his eyes again. He bit his lip to hold them back. How could Tuor just stop loving him? Just like that! He didn’t understand, maybe the man had never loved him as much as Ecthelion had loved him.

“I asked for Lady Idril’s hand in marriage,” the young man whispered, still looking at his own hands in his lap.

One thing was Glorfindel telling him there bad tidings, but to hear it from Tuor’s mouth was quite different, and in the end Ecthelion gave up struggling with his tears, and let them flow down his cheeks. “I am happy for you,” he croaked.

“Liar,” Tuor said softly with a sad little smile on his lips.

“Why did you bother to come all this way in the middle of the night to tell me this? You could have told me at the party at the castle,” Ecthelion said with a surprisingly even voice.

“Because I have been unjust to you,” Tuor said, and for the first time he looked up at the elf, and leaned over to wipe the tears from the soft cheeks, but Ecthelion batted his hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” he hissed on the brink of hysteria, wiping his tears himself with his sleeve.

“Forgive me,” Tuor whispered. Seeing Ecthelion’s tears was surprising to Tuor; he had not suspected he would mean that much to the beautiful elf. “I should leave,” he mumbled and moved to stand, when Ecthelion laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Will you tell me why?” the dark haired elf said, blinking tears from his eyelashes, frowning in annoyance over his own fragility. Tuor shook his head, and moved away from the elf’s hand. “You won’t even tell me why you are marrying the kings daughter?”

The man took a deep breath. “I know what you are thinking, but I ‘do’ love you Ecthelion, I always have and I always will.”

“Don’t tell me such sweet lies, Tuor, it does not become you,” Ecthelion sneered.

“Idril is really a warm, loving and beautiful elf,” Tuor whispered, “and I don’t remember when I started to feel something for her.” He walked around the sofa and leaned against the balcony door frame. “I love you both; it is driving me insane that I have to choose.” Ecthelion didn’t say anything, he just turned in his seat and watched the tormented man at the glass doors. “Sons, Ecthelion.. Lady Idril can grant me that, you cannot.”

“Sons,” Ecthelion whispered and raked a hand through his hair.

“Yes, sons. I am mortal. And my time here is short compared to yours; my only way of staying immortal is to have offspring,” Tuor said in a flat voice.

The elf took a deep breath and stood up, walking slowly to where Tuor was standing and wrapped his arms around the man. “Someday I will forgive you, but it is not today.”

“Thank you,” Tuor whispered.

“Now go back to your wife-to-be and take good care of her,” the elf whispered, planting a soft kiss in the man’s neck.

Tuor opened his mouth to speak, but no words seemed to fit the situation, and so he left. Ecthelion stood on the balcony and watched the man run across the gardens and heard the hinges of the wrought iron door screech. He wished he would cry, curse, destroy and scream. But he was nailed to the spot, completely unable to move as he felt his entire world crash down around him.



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