But I'll worship true
Dec. 30th, 2018 02:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nathair_nimheI was like 'let's write a short scene from this AU I have in mind'. Sadly AU doesn't work without a ton of explanation and notes.
Rating: Teen
Words: Around 1100
Pairing: Gildor/Maedhros (also consider FëanorianOT8 & FëanorianOT8/Gildor in the background)
Content Warning: AU, slight hint of NSFW tentacle sex, Fëanorian!Gildor, body horror?/monster bodies
Summary: Maglor and Gildor visit Maedhros
EDIT 07/10/19: I just recalled that Urloth wrote an awesome Fëanorian!Gildor (son of Celegorm) which is probably where all my Fëanorian!Gildors come from.
“Is something on your mind?”
The sound of Maglor's voice made Gildor stop in his tracks.
Maglor lowered himself until he was eye to eye with him, the snake heads that made up the lower part of his body all rising up from the ground to look at him too.
“Has something happened while you were away? Something you didn't tell me about?” Maglor gently prodded, caressing Gildor's cheek with fingers longer than an elf should have had.
Gildor leant into the touch, even though it was cold. “No...I was just thinking that it's a pity we can't see Maedhros's face any longer. Even towards the end of the First Age, on the rare occasions when he smiled, it was like a new sun was born every time.”
“Indeed.” Maglor half-closed his cat eyes for a moment, as if peering at the memory. “But we are working to bring back that joy, for all of our brothers.”
Gildor nodded. He wasn't sure what Maglor and Maedhros and their father were doing exactly, but he knew it involved bringing down the Valar and he knew that his brothers and father were powerful enough to do it.
“Let's go, Nelyo must be waiting for us, right?”
“Do you want me to carry you?” Maglor asked.
Gildor smirked, and adjusted his grip on the leather pouch he carried on his shoulder. “I might be pensive but not to the point that I can't walk on my own two feet.”
He started walking again, and Maglor followed. The snakes lowered themselves back on the ground but didn't exactly slither. The fish fins sprouting out of Maglor's backbone fluctuated in a mesmerising dance, a myriad shimmering colours made even brighter by the contrast with the blue of the scales on the snake heads and of the scales that crept up Maglor's neck. They looked almost like wings, except they weren't fit for flight. Gildor's best guess was that Maglor did move thanks to them, somehow. They made Maglor even more beautiful, at any rate, even now that most people would have seen him only as a monster.
The change had happened after they recovered the Silmarils, but Gildor couldn't have explained how or why. He wasn't with Maglor at the time, and Maglor only remembered his own sensations. It could have been the power of the Silmarils, nurtured by Fëanor's anger and despair. It could have been their desire for a different outcome. It could have been an unforeseen, twisted outcome of the Doom. After all, the cursed Valar themselves didn't know all ends, and had been making plenty of missteps along the way.
Whatever the how and why, Maglor, Maedhros and Fëanor were not elves any longer and were one with a Silmaril each.
Maedhros soon came into view, past the mist that always shrouded him. For a long time Gildor had been convinced that Maedhros was only hidden somewhere inside the jungle, that he didn't wish to be seen.
The truth was that Maedhros was the whole impassable tangle of branches, leaves and roots. Or, the jungle was part of him, at least.
“Are you sure you don't want to come with me?” Maglor asked when they close enough to touch their brother.
“You know I can't understand what he says.”
“Maedhros would be happy to have you anyway.”
Gildor handed Maglor the tungana he had been carrying for him. “I'll wait here.”
Maglor gave him a half-hug with his free arm before being swallowed by the-wall-of-sentient-plants-that-were-Maedhros.
Gildor took a deep breath and sat down next to a clump of roots that shifted to make a comfortable seat for him. He relaxed, knowing that he was safer there than anywhere else.
Once, when a band of orcs from Angmar had been careless enough to travel all the way to the very northern tip of the Blue Mountains and skirted Maedhros's rest, Maedhros reared up, revealing a huge maw with rows and rows of fangs-and-thorns that swallowed all the orcs in one go.
Maglor said that Maedhros could have travelled across the land, if he had wanted to, but didn't because his strength was in his roots and keeping them where they were was best for him.
A pair of roots rose on either side of him and wrapped around chest.
Gildor smiled and laid his hands on the roots, hugging them back. “Nelyo. You know I'm tired don't you?”
There was a rustle of leaves.
“I don't mind being tired, I would go to the end of the world for you and Cáno and father. It's...having to hide who I really am that still gets to me, sometimes.”
“The Valar were so self-righteously upset that we were ready to kill to leave their Aman, but I would do anything to be finally, finally free to be your brother, to be Father's son, without having to fear the consequences. I want to be Jewel-Son and not have to rely on fake names and allegiances.”
A tendril rose up to his lips. Gildor kissed it and closed his eyes when the tendril slithered up his cheek, sending a tingling sensation down his whole right side.
Maglor was singing, somewhere deeper in the jungle, and plucking his tungana with his long power-laced fingers. It wasn't hard to imagine that he could have broken the world the Valar had sung into being, or at least bend the reality of that world to his will.
Maglor could draw strength from any body of water and from their father, who sailed the air carrying the light that people still foolishly called the Star of Hope.
After a time, Gildor realised that Maedhros was pulling him closer. When he reopened his eyes, there was no sky over him and several other roots and stems and tendrils had risen up around him.
“Nelyo, I haven't forgotten that you always loved me...but I won't mind if you want to show it.”
No sooner had he said that that the roots were on him and peeling his clothing away with the tenderness and expertise of a big brother and lover. Maglor stopped singing. The idea that Maglor too was going to be fucked by Maedhros at the same time made Gildor instantly hard. His cock sprang up the moment his braies were pulled down. A tendril wrapped around it, covering his whole length, and then tiny leaves started tickling his slit in a way that had him moaning loud enough to wake the dead.
At least, he didn't have to worry about being heard here. He didn't have to worry when he started gasping 'love you, brother' over and over.
*
Sooo, notes
a) I think the prophecy that the Silmarils would find their place (or whatever the exact phrasing is) in the earth sky and water has a lot of potential (specifically a lot of potental for things to turn against the Valar)
b) I love weird monsters and I'm 10000% okay with Fëanorians as weird monsters ready to kick everybody else's ass. If you mix this with a) above you get of course a monster of air(+bonus fire), a monster of water and a monster of earth
c) I can't decide if Maedhros is just the forest or if the forest is just like a train for him and he's still sort of human looking (maybe a really huge giant)
d) Fëanorian!Gildor was born from the fact that there are no named Fëanorian followers in the Silm + it's totally plausible for Fëanor to have had some 'illegitimate' kids (with all the issues that would cause). I also generally like the idea of named-character-everybody-thinks-is-good being an undercover resentful kinslayer (one of my oldest - unposted - fics features this Gildor). Gildor means 'Star-King'. Now, Quenya tends to use 'elen' for 'star' rather than ngillë, so his name in Quenya would probably be Elentár, which is the masculine of Elentári, i.e. Varda's title. Tl;dr his name is kinda blasphemous. His other Quenya name here is of course Mírion
e) My actual intent here was to write a ton of the raunchiest tentacle/monster cock/weird consensual smut out there but that would take too long
Rating: Teen
Words: Around 1100
Pairing: Gildor/Maedhros (also consider FëanorianOT8 & FëanorianOT8/Gildor in the background)
Content Warning: AU, slight hint of NSFW tentacle sex, Fëanorian!Gildor, body horror?/monster bodies
Summary: Maglor and Gildor visit Maedhros
EDIT 07/10/19: I just recalled that Urloth wrote an awesome Fëanorian!Gildor (son of Celegorm) which is probably where all my Fëanorian!Gildors come from.
“Is something on your mind?”
The sound of Maglor's voice made Gildor stop in his tracks.
Maglor lowered himself until he was eye to eye with him, the snake heads that made up the lower part of his body all rising up from the ground to look at him too.
“Has something happened while you were away? Something you didn't tell me about?” Maglor gently prodded, caressing Gildor's cheek with fingers longer than an elf should have had.
Gildor leant into the touch, even though it was cold. “No...I was just thinking that it's a pity we can't see Maedhros's face any longer. Even towards the end of the First Age, on the rare occasions when he smiled, it was like a new sun was born every time.”
“Indeed.” Maglor half-closed his cat eyes for a moment, as if peering at the memory. “But we are working to bring back that joy, for all of our brothers.”
Gildor nodded. He wasn't sure what Maglor and Maedhros and their father were doing exactly, but he knew it involved bringing down the Valar and he knew that his brothers and father were powerful enough to do it.
“Let's go, Nelyo must be waiting for us, right?”
“Do you want me to carry you?” Maglor asked.
Gildor smirked, and adjusted his grip on the leather pouch he carried on his shoulder. “I might be pensive but not to the point that I can't walk on my own two feet.”
He started walking again, and Maglor followed. The snakes lowered themselves back on the ground but didn't exactly slither. The fish fins sprouting out of Maglor's backbone fluctuated in a mesmerising dance, a myriad shimmering colours made even brighter by the contrast with the blue of the scales on the snake heads and of the scales that crept up Maglor's neck. They looked almost like wings, except they weren't fit for flight. Gildor's best guess was that Maglor did move thanks to them, somehow. They made Maglor even more beautiful, at any rate, even now that most people would have seen him only as a monster.
The change had happened after they recovered the Silmarils, but Gildor couldn't have explained how or why. He wasn't with Maglor at the time, and Maglor only remembered his own sensations. It could have been the power of the Silmarils, nurtured by Fëanor's anger and despair. It could have been their desire for a different outcome. It could have been an unforeseen, twisted outcome of the Doom. After all, the cursed Valar themselves didn't know all ends, and had been making plenty of missteps along the way.
Whatever the how and why, Maglor, Maedhros and Fëanor were not elves any longer and were one with a Silmaril each.
Maedhros soon came into view, past the mist that always shrouded him. For a long time Gildor had been convinced that Maedhros was only hidden somewhere inside the jungle, that he didn't wish to be seen.
The truth was that Maedhros was the whole impassable tangle of branches, leaves and roots. Or, the jungle was part of him, at least.
“Are you sure you don't want to come with me?” Maglor asked when they close enough to touch their brother.
“You know I can't understand what he says.”
“Maedhros would be happy to have you anyway.”
Gildor handed Maglor the tungana he had been carrying for him. “I'll wait here.”
Maglor gave him a half-hug with his free arm before being swallowed by the-wall-of-sentient-plants-that-were-Maedhros.
Gildor took a deep breath and sat down next to a clump of roots that shifted to make a comfortable seat for him. He relaxed, knowing that he was safer there than anywhere else.
Once, when a band of orcs from Angmar had been careless enough to travel all the way to the very northern tip of the Blue Mountains and skirted Maedhros's rest, Maedhros reared up, revealing a huge maw with rows and rows of fangs-and-thorns that swallowed all the orcs in one go.
Maglor said that Maedhros could have travelled across the land, if he had wanted to, but didn't because his strength was in his roots and keeping them where they were was best for him.
A pair of roots rose on either side of him and wrapped around chest.
Gildor smiled and laid his hands on the roots, hugging them back. “Nelyo. You know I'm tired don't you?”
There was a rustle of leaves.
“I don't mind being tired, I would go to the end of the world for you and Cáno and father. It's...having to hide who I really am that still gets to me, sometimes.”
“The Valar were so self-righteously upset that we were ready to kill to leave their Aman, but I would do anything to be finally, finally free to be your brother, to be Father's son, without having to fear the consequences. I want to be Jewel-Son and not have to rely on fake names and allegiances.”
A tendril rose up to his lips. Gildor kissed it and closed his eyes when the tendril slithered up his cheek, sending a tingling sensation down his whole right side.
Maglor was singing, somewhere deeper in the jungle, and plucking his tungana with his long power-laced fingers. It wasn't hard to imagine that he could have broken the world the Valar had sung into being, or at least bend the reality of that world to his will.
Maglor could draw strength from any body of water and from their father, who sailed the air carrying the light that people still foolishly called the Star of Hope.
After a time, Gildor realised that Maedhros was pulling him closer. When he reopened his eyes, there was no sky over him and several other roots and stems and tendrils had risen up around him.
“Nelyo, I haven't forgotten that you always loved me...but I won't mind if you want to show it.”
No sooner had he said that that the roots were on him and peeling his clothing away with the tenderness and expertise of a big brother and lover. Maglor stopped singing. The idea that Maglor too was going to be fucked by Maedhros at the same time made Gildor instantly hard. His cock sprang up the moment his braies were pulled down. A tendril wrapped around it, covering his whole length, and then tiny leaves started tickling his slit in a way that had him moaning loud enough to wake the dead.
At least, he didn't have to worry about being heard here. He didn't have to worry when he started gasping 'love you, brother' over and over.
*
Sooo, notes
a) I think the prophecy that the Silmarils would find their place (or whatever the exact phrasing is) in the earth sky and water has a lot of potential (specifically a lot of potental for things to turn against the Valar)
b) I love weird monsters and I'm 10000% okay with Fëanorians as weird monsters ready to kick everybody else's ass. If you mix this with a) above you get of course a monster of air(+bonus fire), a monster of water and a monster of earth
c) I can't decide if Maedhros is just the forest or if the forest is just like a train for him and he's still sort of human looking (maybe a really huge giant)
d) Fëanorian!Gildor was born from the fact that there are no named Fëanorian followers in the Silm + it's totally plausible for Fëanor to have had some 'illegitimate' kids (with all the issues that would cause). I also generally like the idea of named-character-everybody-thinks-is-good being an undercover resentful kinslayer (one of my oldest - unposted - fics features this Gildor). Gildor means 'Star-King'. Now, Quenya tends to use 'elen' for 'star' rather than ngillë, so his name in Quenya would probably be Elentár, which is the masculine of Elentári, i.e. Varda's title. Tl;dr his name is kinda blasphemous. His other Quenya name here is of course Mírion
e) My actual intent here was to write a ton of the raunchiest tentacle/monster cock/weird consensual smut out there but that would take too long
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