21 August 2010 @ 12:12 am
Title: Interrogation
Fandom: Lord of the Rings/The Silmarillion
Characters: Mandos, Glorfindel
Words: ~970
Warnings: Vague mention of rape.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Mandos interrogates Glorfindel after he has died in Middle-earth for the third time.
Disclaimer: Belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Prompt: waxplay via [info]kink_bingo {my card}
Author Notes: Part of a short series of fics that focuses on Glorfindel's lust for Legolas. It's almost the same idea as Gift of the Hidden Hero except Glorfindel isn't a vampire-like creature here.

The tall and terrible Valar sat on his high throne, and with a look of utter disgust in his golden eyes, he regarded the golden-haired elf standing before him. The elf bowed his head in shame.

“Thrice you’ve lived in Middle-earth,” The Valar Mandos spoke, “and thrice you’ve come into my Halls. The first was after your deeds of fighting a Balrog, turning you into some hero amongst your kind. The second time you would refused to tell me of the manner of how you died, but try as I might to urge you to finally enter Valinor you begged and begged to return to Middle-earth when you even knew your time there had come to its end.

“And now here you are again. I have witnessed your third death; I know what brought you back here. You were reckless; you led yourself to your death! Do you truly think I would keep sending you back to Middle-earth? No elf has given me this trouble! None have begged to return to Middle-earth even once!”

The elf still had not spoken, his head bowed, curtained by his wavy golden hair.

“Hold out your arms!”

Glorfindel obliged silently. He had done this enough times to know what to do without further instructions; he stepped forward and placed his arms on an altar made of black marble.

Mandos stood from his throne and plucked one candle from the wall. He came over to the elf, who looked utterly defeated though in his eyes a madness could be seen wallowing deep in his soul.

The Valar of the Halls stood beside the elf and tipped the candle till drops of hot wax fell on the exposed arms. Glorfindel winced as the hot liquid dribbled down his white skin; a feeling of something burning hot spun inside his stomach.

“The manner of your second death is still unknown to me,” Mandos said. He let a few more of the golden candle wax trickle down. “But at this moment it matters not to me. What I wish to know is: what is it that attaches you to Middle-earth?”

Glorfindel struggled to keep his mouth shut, but the candle wax had affected him far deeper than his own skin. “An elf…I...fell in love.”

“That I have seen,” Mandos said coldly. “You have developed an obsession with one who will never return your love. That is rare among the elves, but it surprises me not. It is one of the vulnerabilities that accompanies an elf who returns to Middle-earth. You lost your connections with the other elves around you. You no longer feel their emotions; your entire existence became satisfying your own desires even at the expense of others. And so you took an elf against his will, and he would have come to my Halls had the true holder of his heart not saved him!”

Several globs of wax struck his hand, and Glorfindel cried loudly in pain. A hole seemed to burn right through him. He watched in horror as the wax turned red and trailed down the length of his arm. He expected the change in wax’s color came from his own blood, but there was not a single wound in the palm of his hands. And as he studied the trails of wax, some of the liquid turned white right before his eyes. The burning pain shot throughout him, focusing on areas that were not even touched by the wax.

“You feel this?” Mandos said. “This is the pain that filled the prince when you stole him as your own.”

“I was gentle with him!” Glorfindel insisted, fighting to breathe while his body was aflame.

“Being gentle did not stop him from belonging to another,” Mandos said.

“I was gentle! I loved him!” More wax spilled onto his hands and arms, and Glorfindel shot his head back, shrieking in the agony, but Mandos did not take the candle away. His own eyes watched the wax with disinterest.

“Your mind is no longer fit for an elf! Never have I seen one with such selfishness, an complete inability to feel another’s emotions! You’ve become too attached to the world, so much so you’ve become greedy and selfish for only your own needs and never another’s! I would keep you in these Halls forever, for you are not fit to ever enter fair Valinor!”

“No! Please, I must see him again!” Glorfindel begged, his resolve finally broken. “It matters not who he chooses! He’s too young to understand! I will make him see! I can shower him with gifts, give him the comfortable life that the other can never possibly dream!”

Mandos’ nostrils flared; a shadow came over him then. The flame of the candle danced wildly and even more spilled onto the once great elf. “Speaking like a Man maddened by his own lust! Your obsession has possessed you! It disgusts me to even speak with you!

“However, you will get your wish. On Middle-earth you will return, and forever you will remain there. You will return as a ghost, unseen by all. You can never touch the elf, and he will never know you are near. But you will see him again, as you had begged me.” A cold smile stretched his terrible face.

And Glorfindel, once great and heroic among elves, driven to madness by his earthy attachments, fully realized what Mandos’ words meant. He screamed and begged, thrashing against his bonds of dried wax, long hardened on the alter by now. But his words fell on deaf ears, for Mandos had abandoned him. Before the darkness overcame him completely, Glorfindel saw himself for the final time. His hands and arms were covered in wax as red as the blood from the murders and thefts that he had committed.