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keilissTitle: Secret Garden
Epilogue
Characters: Erestor/Elladan, Gildor, others
Rating: pg-13
Artist and Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
red_lasbelin
Timeline: early/mid Third Age
Summary: A chain of mysterious events lead Erestor and Elladan to Mirkwood in search of answers. There they and Gildor face deadly danger that has nothing to do with orcs or giant spiders. (With more than a passing nod to Chris Carter's incomparable X-Files.)
Epilogue
“And she didn’t say anything else?”
They were squashed together in a narrow bed in a guest room on the cliff side of the house. It was the kind of room reserved for unexpected and not very important single guests and all it had to recommend it was its convenience to a little used back staircase. The door was locked, the shutters closed, and dust motes danced in the bars of sunlight that slanted through the narrow slats onto the bed.
Erestor lay on his side, head propped on a hand. His hair fell across Elladan’s chest, a stray sunbeam catching the rainbow hues sparkling in the rich blackness. Elladan was idly rubbing his arm while they talked.
“That was it,” Erestor said. “She heard me through, thanked me for the warning for your grandfather, said I’d have to find the means to safeguard those toads in the future, and was pleased we’d managed to find Gildor but thought it a pity he hadn’t been scared off the sauce by his near death experience. I asked her what she knew of Laegon or the mysterious Madame or Mirkwood’s plans for expansion, but she said if I was meant to find the answers, I would; apparently the truth is out there, if one knows where to look.”
“When Mother acts obscure, she’s worse than Grandmother,” Elladan agreed. “Do you think she knows more? She didn’t seem surprised by any of this.”
“I don’t know,” Erestor admitted. “She had a strange life growing up, I think she knows a lot about things most people have never heard of. She did say we’d be best off following Gildor’s example and trying to stay out of it, in fact she told me directly that I wasn’t to involve you in anything more of this…”
“I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” Elladan purred, running his hand along Erestor’s flank, the touch butterfly light and enticing. “Don’t you think I’m old enough to make my own decisions, Ery?”
“Stop that, we need to talk. Yes, you’re old enough. You were born old.”
Elladan laughed and returned to running his fingers through Erestor’s long hair. “Your hair’s gorgeous, do I tell you that enough? Especially in the sun. All right, what do we know?”
“You tell me enough, but once more won’t hurt. What do we know? Well, we know Thranduil’s son is a dangerous lunatic…”
“Even with one arm.”
“You shouldn’t sound so smug about that. Yes, even with one arm. And whatever he’s involved in, they’ll rebuild what was destroyed in the fire.”
“Gildor said the dye was highly flammable and when I checked I found he knew what he was talking about. So that would mean the supply they had there is gone, right?”
“It should be, those buildings were among the first to burn. We can hope anyhow. We need to guard the toads and the dye in future so they can’t get any more to make their disgusting drug. “
“And Mother will make sure Grandfather doesn’t meet with Thranduil – I can’t believe they were planning to drug Grandfather, make him kill Grandmother, take her ring, come here, drug Mother, get her to take Father’s ring… Are we sure this wasn’t Gildor’s imagination running away with him rather than joining up the pieces of things he overheard?”
“I don’t think so, Dan,” Erestor said, sliding down slowly to lie with his head on Elladan’s shoulder, hand resting in the centre of his chest. Dan felt solid against him, reality in an unreal world. “It makes sense. I’ve done a little research into the dye and the kind of drug that might be distilled from it and yes, it would be a powerful hypnotic and if it was enhanced in some way I can see that being possible – though it was never tested so we can’t know if it’d work. But it feels right, and he had no reason to make it up. He was sober, too.”
Elladan conceded with a nod, his hand still on Erestor’s hair. “We don’t know how widespread the flowers are, or those pods.”
“Or how many of those different species we saw in the secret garden have been seeded in places like Mithlond or even here.”
“I think we’d know if there were pods here. I didn’t have time to look too hard at the rest, though there was a creeper that tried to kill me. I’d know that one if I saw it again.”
“You know, that sounds exactly like the kind of thing Gildor will say after a few drinks.”
“I’m getting to understand that,” Elladan said dryly, shifting to get the fit between their bodies right.
“The worst is we can’t prove any of it. The flowers are gone, the secret garden is gone, the whole thing sounds like some kind of a wild fantasy. Your own mother says to let it be, that stirring up a hornet’s nest means we’ll just get stung ourselves.”
“She’s scared, isn’t she?” Dan said quietly, stroking Erestor’s hair.
Erestor thought about it, relaxing under Elladan’s rhythmical touch, trying to read past Celebrían’s bland expression as they walked together towards the Hall of Fire, pretending to discuss plans for the harvest festival. “I think she’s uneasy,” he said at last. “I think she knows things she’d rather not talk about. Your father’s a good, decent man, but far too trusting. I think she’s trying to protect her family as best she can. Scared? Not so sure about that. Your mother isn’t someone who scares easily.”
Dan nodded. “That’s probably it, yes.”
“Right now we need to think of a way to find out what’s going on over there and who else is involved.” Erestor moved abruptly so he was lying sprawled over Elladan, arms crossed on his chest, chin resting on his wrists. Elladan gave a half protest, something about his weight, but lay still. Their eyes were almost level.
“Mithlond. Those flowers are all over Mithlond,” he said, idly rubbing Erestor’s shoulders. “And that’s where Gildor disappeared from. And – there’s something really wrong there, Ery. I’m sure Galdor has something to do with it. Do you think there’s any chance Círdan would believe any of this?”
Erestor considered, then shook his head. “It sounds too far fetched. And he’s old fashioned, he would never believe elves could work against other elves.”
“What? He was around for two kinslayings.”
“Yes, but this is different. No Oath, no hot blood, no Silmarils. Cold blooded plotting. He’d never believe it of elves, he’s too straight.”
“I suppose. There’s one final thing.”
“What else? Erestor stretched then pressed himself against Elladan, relishing the feel of warm skin and hard muscle. “It’s getting late, I need to sit in on your father’s meeting with the Goldsmiths’ Guild.”
“Your life is so exciting,” Elladan laughed, rolling them over fast so that Erestor lay under him in a tangle of hair, trying to catch his breath, laughing as well. “Seriously - one last minute seriously? We need to find out who Madame is. Gildor said that’s very important. He said there were people who worked directly for her, not Laegon, and that they were foreign to Mirkwood. Find out who she is, and we’ll know what we’re really dealing with.”
“Can you stop talking now, Dan?” Erestor asked, moving lazily against him. “I’m running out of time.”
A fire crackled merrily in the grate in the old stone room. Scarlet drapes were drawn against the night. A small round table bore a vase of leaves and twigs, a bottle of extremely good wine, two Gondorian crystal glasses, and a small platter of snacks. Finger food they called it, the things eaten casually with a glass of wine.
“More wine, my lady?” Círdan asked, his hand on the bottle.
The woman across the table nodded, the tiny emeralds in her intricately coifed black hair twinkling in the candlelight. “It is most good. From the south, yes?” Her voice was high and clear with a strong but not unpleasant accent, her slanting eyes a green to match the emeralds. She held the glass out in a small, delicate hand, and Círdan filled it.
“A toast,” he suggested, filling his own. “To Prince Laegon’s health, perhaps?”
Her laughter tinkled unkindly. “Burns will heal, arm will not grow. My precious one took it quite off before – before the bad thing happened.”
He hoped she was not about to cry again. She had been in floods of tears when she told him the fate of those nightmare-inducing pods she referred to as her ‘babies’. “Even so, he is important to the reworking of our plan,” she continued. “We will be reworking it, yes? They are most insistent. There must be no retreat.”
She sipped her wine and looked at him seductively over the glass. The look made no impact, Círdan would have her later anyhow, it was part of their agreement. She would lie naked on the couch, her long legs drawn up and spread for his inspection, and when he had sucked and fingered her to his satisfaction and she was keening with need, she would turn over onto her hands and knees for him to plunge into wet heat and ride her senseless as befitted the bitch she was. But first, business.
“It was a good plan. Entice Celeborn to a meeting with Thranduil, drug him, then hypnotise him into taking Nenya from that wife of his. Then having him administer the drug to the daughter, making her retrieve Vilya. I was a little unclear about the next step though. Laegon would never have agreed to those rings going anywhere but Mirkwood, which would not have suited our purposes.”
She tossed her head casually. “Oh, Laegon. So blind with hatred, it is easy to turn his thoughts. No, the rings would have been brought here for safekeeping during the war with Lórien, of course. One of my own servants would have protected them. He could not find fault with that. If he had, he would have died for it. And once here…”
“Once here, Telerin dominance would have been restored with ease, things would be as they were for all those years before the Noldor came out of the West bringing nothing but trouble and arrogance.”
“Yes, yes, as you say.” She selected a cube of cheese impaled with an olive, inspected it, sniffed it, then slid it languidly into her mouth. “And it will still be done, only we find a new way to reach my lord’s no-good, Noldor-loving nephew, yes?”
“Well, first things first. Do we have any of the hypnotic left?”
“No. You will get more.”
Círdan leaned back in his chair. “That might be easier said than done. If there’s nothing left of the store in Mirkwood, then the only place the raw ingredient can be found is Rivendell, and I suspect that will be less easy to get to than it might have been before. Elrond’s brat and that crow Erestor will make sure of it.”
“They not know enough,” she said positively. “Maybe a little about flowers, but not the rest.”
“Maybe not, but I suspect Gildor would have picked up some information at least in the time you were holding him. Why your people didn’t take him and leave him in the heart of the forest to find his way through the spiders I have no idea.”
She shook her head. “No, no. They say he not to be made dead. Not he, not the witch. Not yet. Will be too much questions Over There.”
He grimaced but nodded. “They have a sentimental streak, more like. But very well, we won’t kill any Finwëan royalty, just clip their claws. Drink will silence Lalwen’a son, and once bereft of the ring, the woman will weaken. After that, in the vagaries of war all things are possible.”
She smiled and despite her beauty it was not a pleasant sight. Lifting her glass she raised slanting eyebrows at him. “We drink toast to it?”
Cirdan looked down at her and nodded, his smile matching her own. “Indeed, a toast might be in order,” he said, touching his glass to hers. “To the success of our plans, the confusion of our enemies and the resurrection of the Telerin nation.”
“Morgoth take dwarf and Noldor,” she said more pragmatically, draining her glass. “Break Menegroth, kill my beloved. We not forget. We will tame new pretties. Make new plan. Soon I have my revenge, and all you have lost is yours again. To the future.”
“To the future,” he agreed, and drank deep. “And now, Madame,” he continued, finishing his wine and rising, “there are other appetites we share that need slaking. On the floor before the fire this time, I think.”
She rose and crossed the room to the fireplace, shedding clothing casually as she went. “We are planting a new secret garden, did I say? I tell you all about it while you do good things for me. Tell you how things will be when we make the future our own.”
Epilogue
Characters: Erestor/Elladan, Gildor, others
Rating: pg-13
Artist and Beta:
red_lasbelin Timeline: early/mid Third Age
Summary: A chain of mysterious events lead Erestor and Elladan to Mirkwood in search of answers. There they and Gildor face deadly danger that has nothing to do with orcs or giant spiders. (With more than a passing nod to Chris Carter's incomparable X-Files.)
“And she didn’t say anything else?”
They were squashed together in a narrow bed in a guest room on the cliff side of the house. It was the kind of room reserved for unexpected and not very important single guests and all it had to recommend it was its convenience to a little used back staircase. The door was locked, the shutters closed, and dust motes danced in the bars of sunlight that slanted through the narrow slats onto the bed.
Erestor lay on his side, head propped on a hand. His hair fell across Elladan’s chest, a stray sunbeam catching the rainbow hues sparkling in the rich blackness. Elladan was idly rubbing his arm while they talked.
“That was it,” Erestor said. “She heard me through, thanked me for the warning for your grandfather, said I’d have to find the means to safeguard those toads in the future, and was pleased we’d managed to find Gildor but thought it a pity he hadn’t been scared off the sauce by his near death experience. I asked her what she knew of Laegon or the mysterious Madame or Mirkwood’s plans for expansion, but she said if I was meant to find the answers, I would; apparently the truth is out there, if one knows where to look.”
“When Mother acts obscure, she’s worse than Grandmother,” Elladan agreed. “Do you think she knows more? She didn’t seem surprised by any of this.”
“I don’t know,” Erestor admitted. “She had a strange life growing up, I think she knows a lot about things most people have never heard of. She did say we’d be best off following Gildor’s example and trying to stay out of it, in fact she told me directly that I wasn’t to involve you in anything more of this…”
“I think I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” Elladan purred, running his hand along Erestor’s flank, the touch butterfly light and enticing. “Don’t you think I’m old enough to make my own decisions, Ery?”
“Stop that, we need to talk. Yes, you’re old enough. You were born old.”
Elladan laughed and returned to running his fingers through Erestor’s long hair. “Your hair’s gorgeous, do I tell you that enough? Especially in the sun. All right, what do we know?”
“You tell me enough, but once more won’t hurt. What do we know? Well, we know Thranduil’s son is a dangerous lunatic…”
“Even with one arm.”
“You shouldn’t sound so smug about that. Yes, even with one arm. And whatever he’s involved in, they’ll rebuild what was destroyed in the fire.”
“Gildor said the dye was highly flammable and when I checked I found he knew what he was talking about. So that would mean the supply they had there is gone, right?”
“It should be, those buildings were among the first to burn. We can hope anyhow. We need to guard the toads and the dye in future so they can’t get any more to make their disgusting drug. “
“And Mother will make sure Grandfather doesn’t meet with Thranduil – I can’t believe they were planning to drug Grandfather, make him kill Grandmother, take her ring, come here, drug Mother, get her to take Father’s ring… Are we sure this wasn’t Gildor’s imagination running away with him rather than joining up the pieces of things he overheard?”
“I don’t think so, Dan,” Erestor said, sliding down slowly to lie with his head on Elladan’s shoulder, hand resting in the centre of his chest. Dan felt solid against him, reality in an unreal world. “It makes sense. I’ve done a little research into the dye and the kind of drug that might be distilled from it and yes, it would be a powerful hypnotic and if it was enhanced in some way I can see that being possible – though it was never tested so we can’t know if it’d work. But it feels right, and he had no reason to make it up. He was sober, too.”
Elladan conceded with a nod, his hand still on Erestor’s hair. “We don’t know how widespread the flowers are, or those pods.”
“Or how many of those different species we saw in the secret garden have been seeded in places like Mithlond or even here.”
“I think we’d know if there were pods here. I didn’t have time to look too hard at the rest, though there was a creeper that tried to kill me. I’d know that one if I saw it again.”
“You know, that sounds exactly like the kind of thing Gildor will say after a few drinks.”
“I’m getting to understand that,” Elladan said dryly, shifting to get the fit between their bodies right.
“The worst is we can’t prove any of it. The flowers are gone, the secret garden is gone, the whole thing sounds like some kind of a wild fantasy. Your own mother says to let it be, that stirring up a hornet’s nest means we’ll just get stung ourselves.”
“She’s scared, isn’t she?” Dan said quietly, stroking Erestor’s hair.
Erestor thought about it, relaxing under Elladan’s rhythmical touch, trying to read past Celebrían’s bland expression as they walked together towards the Hall of Fire, pretending to discuss plans for the harvest festival. “I think she’s uneasy,” he said at last. “I think she knows things she’d rather not talk about. Your father’s a good, decent man, but far too trusting. I think she’s trying to protect her family as best she can. Scared? Not so sure about that. Your mother isn’t someone who scares easily.”
Dan nodded. “That’s probably it, yes.”
“Right now we need to think of a way to find out what’s going on over there and who else is involved.” Erestor moved abruptly so he was lying sprawled over Elladan, arms crossed on his chest, chin resting on his wrists. Elladan gave a half protest, something about his weight, but lay still. Their eyes were almost level.
“Mithlond. Those flowers are all over Mithlond,” he said, idly rubbing Erestor’s shoulders. “And that’s where Gildor disappeared from. And – there’s something really wrong there, Ery. I’m sure Galdor has something to do with it. Do you think there’s any chance Círdan would believe any of this?”
Erestor considered, then shook his head. “It sounds too far fetched. And he’s old fashioned, he would never believe elves could work against other elves.”
“What? He was around for two kinslayings.”
“Yes, but this is different. No Oath, no hot blood, no Silmarils. Cold blooded plotting. He’d never believe it of elves, he’s too straight.”
“I suppose. There’s one final thing.”
“What else? Erestor stretched then pressed himself against Elladan, relishing the feel of warm skin and hard muscle. “It’s getting late, I need to sit in on your father’s meeting with the Goldsmiths’ Guild.”
“Your life is so exciting,” Elladan laughed, rolling them over fast so that Erestor lay under him in a tangle of hair, trying to catch his breath, laughing as well. “Seriously - one last minute seriously? We need to find out who Madame is. Gildor said that’s very important. He said there were people who worked directly for her, not Laegon, and that they were foreign to Mirkwood. Find out who she is, and we’ll know what we’re really dealing with.”
“Can you stop talking now, Dan?” Erestor asked, moving lazily against him. “I’m running out of time.”
A fire crackled merrily in the grate in the old stone room. Scarlet drapes were drawn against the night. A small round table bore a vase of leaves and twigs, a bottle of extremely good wine, two Gondorian crystal glasses, and a small platter of snacks. Finger food they called it, the things eaten casually with a glass of wine.
“More wine, my lady?” Círdan asked, his hand on the bottle.
The woman across the table nodded, the tiny emeralds in her intricately coifed black hair twinkling in the candlelight. “It is most good. From the south, yes?” Her voice was high and clear with a strong but not unpleasant accent, her slanting eyes a green to match the emeralds. She held the glass out in a small, delicate hand, and Círdan filled it.
“A toast,” he suggested, filling his own. “To Prince Laegon’s health, perhaps?”
Her laughter tinkled unkindly. “Burns will heal, arm will not grow. My precious one took it quite off before – before the bad thing happened.”
He hoped she was not about to cry again. She had been in floods of tears when she told him the fate of those nightmare-inducing pods she referred to as her ‘babies’. “Even so, he is important to the reworking of our plan,” she continued. “We will be reworking it, yes? They are most insistent. There must be no retreat.”
She sipped her wine and looked at him seductively over the glass. The look made no impact, Círdan would have her later anyhow, it was part of their agreement. She would lie naked on the couch, her long legs drawn up and spread for his inspection, and when he had sucked and fingered her to his satisfaction and she was keening with need, she would turn over onto her hands and knees for him to plunge into wet heat and ride her senseless as befitted the bitch she was. But first, business.
“It was a good plan. Entice Celeborn to a meeting with Thranduil, drug him, then hypnotise him into taking Nenya from that wife of his. Then having him administer the drug to the daughter, making her retrieve Vilya. I was a little unclear about the next step though. Laegon would never have agreed to those rings going anywhere but Mirkwood, which would not have suited our purposes.”
She tossed her head casually. “Oh, Laegon. So blind with hatred, it is easy to turn his thoughts. No, the rings would have been brought here for safekeeping during the war with Lórien, of course. One of my own servants would have protected them. He could not find fault with that. If he had, he would have died for it. And once here…”
“Once here, Telerin dominance would have been restored with ease, things would be as they were for all those years before the Noldor came out of the West bringing nothing but trouble and arrogance.”
“Yes, yes, as you say.” She selected a cube of cheese impaled with an olive, inspected it, sniffed it, then slid it languidly into her mouth. “And it will still be done, only we find a new way to reach my lord’s no-good, Noldor-loving nephew, yes?”
“Well, first things first. Do we have any of the hypnotic left?”
“No. You will get more.”
Círdan leaned back in his chair. “That might be easier said than done. If there’s nothing left of the store in Mirkwood, then the only place the raw ingredient can be found is Rivendell, and I suspect that will be less easy to get to than it might have been before. Elrond’s brat and that crow Erestor will make sure of it.”
“They not know enough,” she said positively. “Maybe a little about flowers, but not the rest.”
“Maybe not, but I suspect Gildor would have picked up some information at least in the time you were holding him. Why your people didn’t take him and leave him in the heart of the forest to find his way through the spiders I have no idea.”
She shook her head. “No, no. They say he not to be made dead. Not he, not the witch. Not yet. Will be too much questions Over There.”
He grimaced but nodded. “They have a sentimental streak, more like. But very well, we won’t kill any Finwëan royalty, just clip their claws. Drink will silence Lalwen’a son, and once bereft of the ring, the woman will weaken. After that, in the vagaries of war all things are possible.”
She smiled and despite her beauty it was not a pleasant sight. Lifting her glass she raised slanting eyebrows at him. “We drink toast to it?”
Cirdan looked down at her and nodded, his smile matching her own. “Indeed, a toast might be in order,” he said, touching his glass to hers. “To the success of our plans, the confusion of our enemies and the resurrection of the Telerin nation.”
“Morgoth take dwarf and Noldor,” she said more pragmatically, draining her glass. “Break Menegroth, kill my beloved. We not forget. We will tame new pretties. Make new plan. Soon I have my revenge, and all you have lost is yours again. To the future.”
“To the future,” he agreed, and drank deep. “And now, Madame,” he continued, finishing his wine and rising, “there are other appetites we share that need slaking. On the floor before the fire this time, I think.”
She rose and crossed the room to the fireplace, shedding clothing casually as she went. “We are planting a new secret garden, did I say? I tell you all about it while you do good things for me. Tell you how things will be when we make the future our own.”
no subject
Date: 2012-03-23 01:46 (UTC)*points accusingly and grins*
You answered questions all right...but gads did you create new ones!!! So, Celeborn's uncle is called lord by Madame. Lol, I'm sitting here thinking about the family tree. Elmos sired Celeborn's father and uncle, so... OMG, you knew this would drive me batty! Then there is the whole question of who is really calling the shots! You had me thinking it was Madame, but it isn't. LOL, this was evil.
This is an outstanding story and you are damned talented at keeping the suspense going.
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2012-03-23 03:07 (UTC)Madame M is a bit casual with words, she should correctly have called Celeborn her late, lamented lord's great-nephew, of course, but somehow I could not hear her saying it. Not trying to mislead there.
Who is really calling the shots? Well -- there are people who think they are, of course, and then there are the people behind the people :D Maybe Celebrian knows, I'm still not sure!
I've really enjoyed your comments and am so happy you've enjoyed the fic. Thanks for the kind words and for coming along for the ride.
*hugs you*
no subject
Date: 2012-03-23 06:52 (UTC)*on regaining consciousness* And Cirdan. Oh Cirdan! Maybe beards aren't good for elves' brains in the long run.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-23 08:28 (UTC)Well, the truth may be out there (loved how you got that in, btw) but poor Elladan and Erestor clearly have a long way to go before they find it. I do hope you'll be writing more.
*hugs*
no subject
Date: 2012-03-23 17:15 (UTC)So soon? *sad*
I am commenting while reading, not leaving it all till I finish. So, you get a reaction directly after I finish whatever paragraph that "needs" commenting on :-)
Well, that's..... some strange pillow talk I'd say, between Elladan and Erestor. Strange--> the topic....
You'd except a normal "how was your day"/ "did you hear/ know..." gossip.
This, however... LOL
Well, well, well....
So, Cirdan is a (THE) lunatic. Or, one of them...
The Lady is still unknown, yet somehow answers to him, via... proxy? ;-) Maybe answers to him is not the right state of things between them. More like seems to be fully knowledgeable of his goals, as he is of hers.
Her accent, is a repeating motif. I am very curious about its origin.
Gildor knew, but he roamed too many places to even start think about it. He's thought when he heard her accent, was a major telling sign, yet, revealed nothing.
And there's a clue, yet, as obscure as if it was not there at all:
"...find a new way to reach my lord’s no-good, Noldor-loving nephew..."
Who's the lord, and who's the nephew?
Is it Galdor? Was he under hypnosis of that drug?
So, Madame lost a beloved one in Doriath. But she cannot be Melian. Somehow, it doesn't ring right.
No, I am not a happy camper at this moment. Not at all. :-)
But you knew that, right? I still I expect a new post next week.
Call it book II, but this story feels like chapter one of this whole plot....
It is even more pressing (to have the full story) then Burning Bright II...*Yes, of course I remember....* :-P
Amazing, this story was wonderful, I was scared, disgusted, laughed, and even call Thranuil "ASS"... Me... LOL
Thank you for it.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-23 17:22 (UTC)I fell for the wording somehow, but I don't want to change the original post.
Melian? emotional about the "babies"?
Oh well, strange things have happened....
And I guess I won't have my next-week post, am I?
Oh well,... :-)
I'll (try to) survive :-)
no subject
Date: 2012-03-23 22:43 (UTC)I have enjoyed the story and I think you have set the scene for a sequel with Cirdan being above suspicion and the other elves thinking they know most of it but actually knowing far less.
Celebrian seems to know more than she should, and what happened to Gildor? He might be off the drink now but how is he dealing with everything that happened?
I am glad you did not do another revolting plant munching on an elf scene - I have told every one I have met in the past few days about the killer plant story. Mostly they just look incredulous and laugh, asking how a plant could eat anyone, while also expressing a fascination for the technicalities of exactly how the plants kill the elves. Obviously they have never seen Day of the Triffids OR read your story!!!
Looking forward to the next story leading on from this - I bet you are writing one or planning to :D
Hugs Binky xxxx
no subject
Date: 2012-03-24 04:09 (UTC)I love that you worked the actual X-files line in there. That was well done and this does what that show really did - opened up more questions than concluding. Things can just go on and on really at the end of an episode. I love this ending which is not really an ending at all. So good!
I thoroughly enjoyed this. Thanks, for writing such interesting and creative stuff!
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Date: 2012-03-24 19:20 (UTC)Where to begin...I told you in my drive-by comment that I adored Elladan and Erestor, and that goes double after the second reading. Their chemistry is just amazing - the banter is great, but the sense of real affection that underlies the catty remarks and the sensuality is what brings them to life, at least for me. This Erestor is different but he is still *Erestor* - still wry and witty and unflaggingly practical. Your Elladan is wonderful, and I think he is defined by the moment in which he realized they could not just leave Laegon to his fate. Dan is a rogue of sorts, yes, but he is still a prince. *g* I would dearly love to see more of their adventures. I wouldn't mind a bit more of this Gildor, too. He seems to have quite a history just waiting to be mined. ;)
The plot and substance of the story, to be honest, rather freaked me out. **blushes** You brought the hidden evil place at the heart of Mirkwood to life, and it gave me the serious heebies - it was like watching a movie that you can't turn away from, but have to watch through your fingers. It is really hard to read through your fingers. :P
For some reason your opening OC broke my heart, too. I so badly wanted him to reach that door and escape, but I knew he wouldn't. The pseudo-ending...WOW! There is a whole other novel to be written there. **looks both hopeful and terrified** Cirdan and Melian shook me up, too. I kept thinking 'OMGOMGOMG Madame is related to Dan!' **snort** And Cirdan is always such an avuncular figure for me - to see him as a scheming manipulator tilted my Tolkien axis.
A masterfully written, completely engrossing, deeply disturbing tale that I hope to see continue. Even if I do have to read through my fingers. *g*
**loves much**
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Date: 2012-03-29 20:38 (UTC)Thank you so much for taking on the evil plants and elf eating pods - it's been great to have you along for the ride :
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Date: 2012-03-29 20:51 (UTC)I loved playing with the X-Files references and also trying to fit the mood of the series (right down to all the unanswered questions at the end, LOL) Poor Erestor has a few Scully moment - it's his own fault for being essentially logical :D There'll definitely be more - I want to find out what happens next!
*hugs*
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Date: 2012-03-29 21:20 (UTC)Burning Bright 2
Secret Garden, the next stage, or
the rest of the fic I wrote for Slashy Valentine, because there's a whole lot I need to add to that.
Input welcome *g*
Oh yes, Melian, with a serious grudge against Noldor in general. It's the same picture of Melian I wrote in Footsteps in Time --- she was a strange creature, fitted right in with elf-eating pods somehow :D And --- I get the impression she's taking instruction from elsewhere as well.
I was worried what you'd think of Mirkwood - and Thranduil, LOL. You've been more than generous about that, specially about poor old Thranduil (who I think is rather like Elrond - decent, well-meaning, not aware of the dark things brewing around them because those are things they would never do....)
No post next week, but there will be more because I really want to see where it goes next and to get some answers and to see if Gildor is really sleeping with...... Whatever :) :) Thank you for all your support, I've loved your comments.
*hugs!*
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Date: 2012-03-29 21:30 (UTC)Oh yes, I have a tiny intro for the next part, but you'll be annoyed to learn the pods seem to be back :) I want to find out more about what Celebrian knows, and Gildor, and also see a bit more of Gildor because I rather like him if/when he's sober :D And of course the plants can eat elves - they don't exactly eat them, but they do clamp onto them and sort of - dissolve them. It's a bit like gastric acid or something along those lines, just slough the flesh away and suck out the nutrients.
Okay, stopping now *giggles* You raised it.
Thanks so much for sticking with this despite evil plants and elf-eating pods, love. I really appreciate it and am glad you enjoyed it enough to want a sequel :)
*hugs*
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Date: 2012-03-30 04:50 (UTC)Secret Garden, the next stage, or
the rest of the fic I wrote for Slashy Valentine, because there's a whole lot I need to add to that.
Input welcome *g*
The way I see it by order of updates:
1. Secret Garden - because it's the one that feels less complete then the others. (As I mentioned in my comment, it feels like the brief prologue to the full story)
2. The Night the Sea Came In - Because I assume it's shorter (the additions) then #3
3. Burning Bright 2 - all the way to the end, but that might be huge. You once mentioned it's a novel size? Anyway, it deserves to see the light of the day, because it was excellent.
My two cents, and it's not the order of "my best personal favorite"
Melian, "Footsteps in Time" - Never heard of that one before, I think.
Would you mind posting the link to it?
According to the way it felt while I read the last chapter of "Secret Garden", I assumed she was answering to "her lord". Now that was a mistake on my part, but it still can be that she's not the final highest boss on it all.
But then, who would be?
I could go on speculating, but it'll be too long.
From a personal point of view, I find it hard to see Melian as she's drawn here. My view of her, is of a being dreamy enough and enchanting (in a good-fantasy-princess style) to make nightingales sing for her, and an Elf lord lose his mind and heart to her.
So, seeing her as this un-balanced craze creature.... That was why I never assumed the "Lady" was Melian.
Mirkwood-Thranduil/ Elrond:
No too comparable, in my view because:
Thranduil seems to be too full of himself, maybe a sign to deep inner insecurity....), while Elrond feels more like... simply a clueless lord.
But yes, both present a less-then-desired picture.... LOL
Looking forward to your next post, :-)
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Date: 2012-04-01 16:29 (UTC)*hugs*
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Date: 2012-04-06 00:33 (UTC)Hmm. The list. Burning Bright will take longest. I have about 40k rough and it's about half way through book 2 [:(] I have a major structural problem with it which I need to resolve (a case of muse wanting me to do something I can't find a single logical excuse for) I have a whole lot of ideas and know the basic outline anyhow. I think I need to clear the smaller things out the way before I go back in there.
Secret Garden - well I did warn it gave more than a passing nod to the X-Flles, and of course there were always more questions than answers at the end of any conspiracy theory episode *g* So yes, there's more, in fact there's as much as I'd care to write at this point because I can't see all the way down the road to the end.
The Balar fic (which is much easier than saying The Night the Sea Came In) ---- when I wrote it I was very aware of writing the middle, because it was all I had time for. I know how it has to begin and I know what needs to be explored after they reach Mithlond, because threads would have to be tied off. It's just writing it....
Melian from Footsteps, after Thingol's death, is not a nice person, but then in Footsteps she's more an elemental force of nature than anything else --- she's Maia, not Elf, and I saw and heard her as 'other' - - someone they don't quite understand and with motivations that are a mystery, nothing in the least dreamy or fantasy princess about her. She doesn't have a big part but she took on a life of her own from the first line. I can see her as Not Nice at all after everything that happened to Doriath. Here's the link: http://www.silmarillionwritersguild.org/archive/home/viewstory.php?sid=278
I did touch on Burning Bright in my B2MeM writing --- I did a piece about Lindir from his young brother's POV, and I also took the scene where he played the harp for Badger and wrote it from his POV instead of Erestor's - I've wondered how that would be since I wrote it. I need to start posting these things while the incentive to tidy them up is still with me.
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Date: 2012-04-06 00:37 (UTC)I am Truly Unique *crawls with embarrassment* Anyhow ---- reposting.
I felt so bad about the OC, I knew he was going to die before I even wrote the first line, but the further I got the more I wished there was a way to make sense of him escaping. Sadly, there wan't *g*.
That the 'bad guys' were Cirdan and Melian (and others vaguely alluded to as Them) was all I was sure of when I started writing, and that Legolas couldn't be in it because of his LotR legacy, which was how he acquired a really nasty big brother (who was also meant to die at the end, but Dan refused to leave him and run for safety)The horror aspect fascinated me in that I couldn't believe I was writing it, LOL! It just - came. No idea from where. I started out with the idea it needed to be something that might have happened in the X-Files and just took off from there.
Erestor and Dan were great to write. The idea intimidated me, but they developed their own dynamic very fast. Erestor is a bit different here, yes, he had to adjust to fit with Dan - they're equals despite the huge age gap, and the balance needed to be right to bring that out. I'd been worried they'd end up like just another version of E/G, with Dan sounding like Glorfindel, just with a different name, so I was really pleased that Dan proved too strong an individual to allow that.
I hadn't planned to write anything from his POV but it was necessary and anyhow he insisted, and I'm glad I did because I got a much better sense of him than I would have seeing him purely through Erestor's eyes. If I hadn't, I don't think I'd have understood his actions at the end ---- but no, he couldn't leave someone to die an awful death like that, it's not in his nature.
I was worried, not about the story in itself (for once in my life) but that they wouldn't work for you, and that was the acid test. I am more happy than I can say that you liked their chemistry and that Dan was readable ..... there is nothing worse than watching someone write 'your' elf badly. I'm thrilled to know you'd like to see more (they'll make me write more, they want to solve mysteries, Gildor wants a life, etc) Thank you so much for the review, sweetie.
*loves muchly*
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Date: 2012-04-06 00:47 (UTC)Anyhoo --- I saw you looking suspiciously at Cirdan. Wanted to say 'shhhhhh', LOL. He was just so perfect! I mean, who would suspect Cirdan? I've never seen him presented as a villain anywhere outside of pretty AU RP/ No idea how Melian got in there, she just arrived (and who am I to argue with a not totally stable Maia?)
I wanted the \feel' of the X-Files, thanks so much for your comments on that. Getting the tag line in was so much fun, made me really happy, lol! And yes, it can just go on indefinitely really, one thing leading to the next. In its way it's a cool way to write, because not everything needs to make sense first time round and there's time to figure the next stage out (I always suspected that's what they did with the show --- just keep writing and see where it ended up)
Thank you for following this and for all the encouragement and reviews, I'm very happy you enjoyed my first real attempt at this genre. *hugs you*
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Date: 2012-04-06 01:07 (UTC)Thank you for all the encouragement *hugs*
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Date: 2012-04-06 04:34 (UTC)My advise?
Don't even bother to try... You'll lose the fight AND be frustrated for the wasted time you fought *wink*
The muse has the upper hand every time, isn't it?
Babar fic= good clear nick name.
Yea, wow... You have a lot of tiding up/ completing to do.
Well, you have my moral support, if that's any help :-)
Thanks for the link, will read it later :-)