weird fic. please tell me if I'm insane.
Jan. 1st, 2004 10:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
meretriculathis fic is not yet really slash, but it requires the basic premise that a: Glorfindel and Erestor were previously in a semi-serious relationship, b: Glorfindel is suffering from some as-yet-unidentified form of mental illness, and c: Melpomaen is Glorfindel's doctor.
that said, onto the REALLY weird shite.
Good Morning
Melpomaen took a deep breath and opened the door of his most unpredictable patient’s room. "Good morning, Glorfindel."
The blond elf looked up at him in complete confusion. "Who are you? Where am I? Is Erestor all right? Did I hurt him?"
Melpomaen smiled half-heartedly. He hated telling Glorfindel this. He told him every morning and it never got easier. "I am Melpomaen. You are in the Golden Wood. Erestor is perfectly fine, but he is not here. He sailed for the Undying Lands some fifty years ago, Glorfindel."
Glorfindel’s face crumpled slightly. "He... left? Why?"
Melpomaen looked down. "He... um... well, he wanted to see the Lady Celebrian and... well... Lord Elrond gave him permission and... well..." He shut his eyes. "Glorfindel, he left you when you started having fits, and there was nothing holding him to Middle Earth anymore."
The blond stared at Melpomaen in hurt bewilderment. "But I love him."
"Yes, I know." This time Melpomaen’s smile was tinged with bitterness. "I know very well, Glorfindel."
*
"Good morning, Glorfindel."
"Is Erestor all right?"
"Yes."
"Who are you?"
"I am Melpomaen, your healer."
"Where is Erestor?"
"He is gone, Glorfindel."
*
"Good morning, Glorfindel."
"Erestor?"
"I am not Erestor, Glorfindel. I’m sorry."
*
"Good morning, Glorfindel."
"Who... have we met?"
Melpomaen sighed in relief. Sometimes, Glorfindel remembered. Not very often, but sometimes. "Yes. I am your healer, Glorfindel."
"How many times have you introduced yourself to me?" he asked with a wryly amused expression.
Melpomaen shrugged. "Almost every morning since you were brought here, the better part of a century ago."
"Must get awfully dull for you."
The dark-haired healer shook his head. "No, not really. Better than some of my other patients, I think. I have one who does nothing but gibber at me whenever I enter his room. I have to force-feed him half the time."
Glorfindel smiled, turning his age-old charm on his world-weary physician. "I could gibber if it would make you feel more at home."
Melpomaen laughed, half in surprise. "No, thank you, I get quite enough in the normal course of things."
"Entirely certain? It’s no trouble, really." The blond began to make faces.
Melpomaen wondered, as he chuckled at Glorfindel’s antics, if he didn’t hate it even more when his patient was back to almost his normal self than when he was a ranting lunatic clawing the walls. While he was a raving madman he was predictable, incapable of disappointing, but when he was charming and sweet and friendly, there was no way of knowing if he would still be the old Glorfindel the next day, or a psychopath who needed to be restrained from harming himself or anyone else.
Suddenly, Glorfindel’s wrist-chains rattled, and Melpomaen looked up swiftly. Glorfindel was staring at them in sudden sobriety. "How long have I been here?" he asked softly.
"Seventy-three years," Melpomaen replied sadly.
"Remind me when I reach a hundred. I should like to have a party."
Melpomaen choked on a half-laugh, half-sob. He got up, then abruptly sank to the ground on his knees beside his patient, head bowed.
He felt a gentle touch on his hair, and glanced up through his lashes. "Elrond once told me that nothing hurts a healer more than a patient he cannot heal," Glorfindel said kindly. "You heal not bodies, but minds, little one. Don’t let our pain torture you. Go out and laugh, and dance, and seduce a pretty girl. Just because we cannot should not prevent you."
Melpomaen looked up at him, then got to his feet. "I wanted more than anything to make you better," he said unhappily. "More than anything, I wanted to fix whatever was wrong with you. But I don’t know how."
Glorfindel shook his head. "I think I remember, a little. You’ve always cared for me, even when I was little more than a mad dog itching to bite. And for that I thank you. If anyone could cure the mad, my little healer, I think it would be you."
if you could drop me a comment and let me know whether i should continue this, i'd appreciate it! I haven't quite decided its fate as of yet.
that said, onto the REALLY weird shite.
Good Morning
Melpomaen took a deep breath and opened the door of his most unpredictable patient’s room. "Good morning, Glorfindel."
The blond elf looked up at him in complete confusion. "Who are you? Where am I? Is Erestor all right? Did I hurt him?"
Melpomaen smiled half-heartedly. He hated telling Glorfindel this. He told him every morning and it never got easier. "I am Melpomaen. You are in the Golden Wood. Erestor is perfectly fine, but he is not here. He sailed for the Undying Lands some fifty years ago, Glorfindel."
Glorfindel’s face crumpled slightly. "He... left? Why?"
Melpomaen looked down. "He... um... well, he wanted to see the Lady Celebrian and... well... Lord Elrond gave him permission and... well..." He shut his eyes. "Glorfindel, he left you when you started having fits, and there was nothing holding him to Middle Earth anymore."
The blond stared at Melpomaen in hurt bewilderment. "But I love him."
"Yes, I know." This time Melpomaen’s smile was tinged with bitterness. "I know very well, Glorfindel."
*
"Good morning, Glorfindel."
"Is Erestor all right?"
"Yes."
"Who are you?"
"I am Melpomaen, your healer."
"Where is Erestor?"
"He is gone, Glorfindel."
*
"Good morning, Glorfindel."
"Erestor?"
"I am not Erestor, Glorfindel. I’m sorry."
*
"Good morning, Glorfindel."
"Who... have we met?"
Melpomaen sighed in relief. Sometimes, Glorfindel remembered. Not very often, but sometimes. "Yes. I am your healer, Glorfindel."
"How many times have you introduced yourself to me?" he asked with a wryly amused expression.
Melpomaen shrugged. "Almost every morning since you were brought here, the better part of a century ago."
"Must get awfully dull for you."
The dark-haired healer shook his head. "No, not really. Better than some of my other patients, I think. I have one who does nothing but gibber at me whenever I enter his room. I have to force-feed him half the time."
Glorfindel smiled, turning his age-old charm on his world-weary physician. "I could gibber if it would make you feel more at home."
Melpomaen laughed, half in surprise. "No, thank you, I get quite enough in the normal course of things."
"Entirely certain? It’s no trouble, really." The blond began to make faces.
Melpomaen wondered, as he chuckled at Glorfindel’s antics, if he didn’t hate it even more when his patient was back to almost his normal self than when he was a ranting lunatic clawing the walls. While he was a raving madman he was predictable, incapable of disappointing, but when he was charming and sweet and friendly, there was no way of knowing if he would still be the old Glorfindel the next day, or a psychopath who needed to be restrained from harming himself or anyone else.
Suddenly, Glorfindel’s wrist-chains rattled, and Melpomaen looked up swiftly. Glorfindel was staring at them in sudden sobriety. "How long have I been here?" he asked softly.
"Seventy-three years," Melpomaen replied sadly.
"Remind me when I reach a hundred. I should like to have a party."
Melpomaen choked on a half-laugh, half-sob. He got up, then abruptly sank to the ground on his knees beside his patient, head bowed.
He felt a gentle touch on his hair, and glanced up through his lashes. "Elrond once told me that nothing hurts a healer more than a patient he cannot heal," Glorfindel said kindly. "You heal not bodies, but minds, little one. Don’t let our pain torture you. Go out and laugh, and dance, and seduce a pretty girl. Just because we cannot should not prevent you."
Melpomaen looked up at him, then got to his feet. "I wanted more than anything to make you better," he said unhappily. "More than anything, I wanted to fix whatever was wrong with you. But I don’t know how."
Glorfindel shook his head. "I think I remember, a little. You’ve always cared for me, even when I was little more than a mad dog itching to bite. And for that I thank you. If anyone could cure the mad, my little healer, I think it would be you."
if you could drop me a comment and let me know whether i should continue this, i'd appreciate it! I haven't quite decided its fate as of yet.
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no subject
Date: 2004-01-02 03:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-01-03 04:49 pm (UTC)THIS HAD BETTER HAVE A HAPPY ENDING! ;P
Sylvie xxx