He had abruptly surfaced from reverie just before dawn with a strangled gasp, to find himself entangled in his sheets with the viscous sign of his just spent seed splattered onto his taut stomach, even as the remnants of a dark dream faded quickly beyond recall.
Not since the turbulent last few months preceeding his majority, had Erestor experienced such conflicting emotions and to awaken thus, after so many centuries, left him deeply disturbed. Those feelings of unease continued to escalate as he cleaned himself up with a grimace, before donning his robes of office and nearly slamming the door of his quarters on his way out.
It had been that mounting sense of panic that had so darkened his miem and hastened his steps as long-buried memories began to insistently jab at his tightly woven membrane of self control, like so many pinpricks refusing to lay flat and ignored any longer.
Erestor had not been aware of encountering any servants in the halls and as he crossed the vestibule leading to his study, he was barely aware that his assistant, Melpomaen, had risen from his desk, words of greeting trailing into silence as the young elf looked at him with wide eyes. Erestor snarled something to the effect that he was not to be disturbed, before entering his study and forcefully shutting the door behind him. Leaving the utterly stunned Melpomaen to slowly sink back into his chair.
Although barely over five centuries of age, Melpomaen had earned his high ranking position as Erestor's assistant because of his brilliant organizational skills, prodigious memory and meticulous work ethic. His timid disposition had endeared him to all the residents of the Last Homely House, even the notoriously reserved elf he worked for. The dark advisor had always treated him with courtesy, actually going so far as to occassionally gift him with a rare, unguarded smile. Melpomaen, for his part, held Erestor in something akin to hero-worship. So to see his Lord behave in such an uncharacteristic manner, shook the gentle elf to his very core and when he resumed his work, it was with a trembling heart.
Erestor sagged against the locked door of his study. He knew he had frightened Melpomaen and realized that he would have to set the young elf's mind at ease at some point. He had always had a soft spot for the shy assistant, who reminded Erestor of himself at that age. Or rather, how he would have been if only...
Suddently, a flurry of isolated memories burst forth from the pinprick holes in his mind and Erestor's hands flew to the sides of his head, as if by that futile act he could contain their escape. He staggered to one of the wingback chairs set before the unlit hearth where he finally collapsed, unable to stem the painfull flashes of recollection.
// " There is something amiss with him. Whoever heard of an elf with hair and eyes the color of blackest night!... Tis not right, I tell you." His Ada yelling accussingly at his Naneth.//
// " Orc spawn! orc spawn! Erestor is an orc spawn..." Other elflings taunting him in sing-song voices.//
// " So this is the young elf I have heard so much about!. It seems the Valar have bestowed such unique coloring upon you, to compliment your uniquely brilliant mind." King Turgon, kindly laying a hand on Erestor's shoulder in full view of the court, thus giving his seal of acceptance to the very grateful young elf.//
// " His speed and reflexes are uncanny. Were he not so inclined towards scholarly pursuits, he would make an excellent warrior." Ecthelion, one of the two great captains of Gondolin, speaking to Erestor's Ada, who was looking at him with pride for the first time in his young life.//
// " I would like you to consider a diplomatic post in service to our King. You will reach your majority soon and would be a most welcome addition to the palace." Lord Goltharon, chief advisor to King Turgon, speaking to a stunned and honored Erestor.//
// " Nay! Daro! Daro!" A strangled shout, arms flaying wildly, eyes full fo terror.//
The agonizing flashes of memory began to coalesce, as the membrane shrouding his buried past rent at last. Slumped in the chair in his study, Erestor remembered....
TBC...