Spider Winslow

spiderwinslow thevampirecreole

Elladan woke from his nap feeling oddly cold and stiff. He barely even remembered falling asleep yet the dark of the room told him he obviously had and night had fallen during his slumber.

Rolling onto his side he moved to kiss Louis only to stop short. The face looking back at him was definitely not that of his husband. Instead Spider’s lamp lit yellow eyes gazed up at him.

Turning away, he went in search of a mirror, a cold fear in his chest at what he would see.  Stopping in front of the mirror, he nearly cried out as he saw his face.  Or, Riordan’s face staring at him from frightened purple eyes.

spiderwinslow thevampirecreole

Elladan woke from his nap feeling oddly cold and stiff. He barely even remembered falling asleep yet the dark of the room told him he obviously had and night had fallen during his slumber.

Rolling onto his side he moved to kiss Louis only to stop short. The face looking back at him was definitely not that of his husband. Instead Spider’s lamp lit yellow eyes gazed up at him.

Turning away, he went in search of a mirror, a cold fear in his chest at what he would see.  Stopping in front of the mirror, he nearly cried out as he saw his face.  Or, Riordan’s face staring at him from frightened purple eyes.

spiderwinslow thevampirecreole

Elladan woke from his nap feeling oddly cold and stiff. He barely even remembered falling asleep yet the dark of the room told him he obviously had and night had fallen during his slumber.

Rolling onto his side he moved to kiss Louis only to stop short. The face looking back at him was definitely not that of his husband. Instead Spider’s lamp lit yellow eyes gazed up at him.

For a brief moment he looked into the eyes of the man who was his captor and the murderer of his family.  The idea of taking the blade in his hand and opening the throat before him was appealing.  He could almost imagine it in his mind.  The sound of Spider choking on his own blood.  The way the water around them would color with blood.  It didn’t even matter to him that he would not survive beyond the moment.  He could have his revenge.

He took Spider’s chin into his soapy hand and tilted the head back.  He had never shaven another.  Elves did not shave, and he had had no reason to shave a man.  Still, he brought the blade to Spider’s chin and began to experiment in gently removing the course hair from his skin.

"Riordan…"  He said quietly as he worked, tasting the word.  He reached for more of the lather and once again spread it over the line of Spider’s jaw.  "I think it is a fine name…  Riordan."

"I know you could..." he whispered, meeting his eyes. "You could open my throat, seeking your death in the heat of justice for those lost souls." He licked his lips. "Your thoughts are open to me, child...I know what horror you'd like to impart on me. But I also know you won't do it." He smiled, turning his face so the elf could continue. He was completely at ease in his domain, the elf amusing but no real threat. Even if he were to open his throat, the likelihood of his death would be slight, he imagined. Frankly, he was more interested in the stormy eyes of the creature before him than worried about his own well-being.

"You may of course ask me anything, my Riordan." He smiled with lidded eyes as he voiced thoughts that had been in his own head. "I am respected," he commented quietly after a moment. "But unlike my brethren who frolic in the blood of their enemies around bonfires like heathens," he smiled, "I have developed a finer taste." He leaned forward, the blade slicing his skin as he moved past it, though the ancient creature didn't seem to notice. It was healed as the second drop of blood fell.

"Unlike your people, you were not ready to face death, even knowing you will continue, in the ways the eldar do." He smiled. "Even facing the death of your tribe, you fought and growled and snarled at the beast itself, to remain on this plain filled with all the sensory pleasures and pains of the world. That you would turn away from the paradise of death, that amuses me--intrigues me; for I have never seen an eldar whose eyes burn with hate, and rage, but they go to death willingly after battle, like your kin. But the kind of fury in your eyes," he smiled. "it is that which has brought you to my company." He ran his fingers over his own jaw, feeling the work his captive had done.

"Very good. You did well." He did not take the blade away from him as he took his hand and drew him closer until he was between his knees. He picked up a bottle of fine scented soap and began to slowly wash the dirt from the elf's shoulders and neck, his large hands gentle and inquisitive as he cleaned the scents of his previous life from him. The elf had been well-cared for, tall as to be expected for his age, though on the skinny side. He had no build to suggest he was a fighter, and eyes that were far too open to have ever seen true cruelty before this evening. Still, there was something about him that proved illusive to the old bat, which he promised himself he'd explore later

The slender elf kept himself still, his slight form pressed up against one wall of the hot pool.  Purple eyes watched the huge man as he undressed, taking in the hard and powerful muscles.  He had bathed with other males before, but never had he seen such a display of power simplified down to corded muscle under hard flesh.

Realizing he was staring at the large man, he shifted his eyes away as he licked his lips nervously.  He had little knowledge of desire or lust having lived an elflings sheltered life, yet something about looking at Spider and the way he displayed his nudity with such ease made the young elf feel awkward and uneasy.

"I am… Trying to understand, my lord." he said quietly.  "I have asked why you did not deal with me as you had the others, and you have answered me that you desired the company of another."

He brought his eyes around to meet with Spider’s bright yellow gaze, his chin lifting a little.  “Though I admit I do not understand why you would desire the company of an elf when you clearly care nothing for the lives of the eldar, I am thankful that I was not killed or sent into whatever slavery you have placed the young and the elleth into.”

He drew up his legs and wrapped his arms around them before settling his chin on bony knees, those eyes still on Spider as if he were yet searching for an answer that made sense.  He watched as the large body sank into the pool of water, the way the hair across the broad span of chest curled or matted as it became wet, and once more there came an unknown uncertainty to him. 

He looked up from his study of Spider’s chest to meet the lamp like gaze once more, the question of his name hanging in the air between them.  His name, the last elven thing he would own, was given to him by his sweet mother.  His father had told him many times as he grew that his mother had known from the moment he was begot that he was different from his warrior brother.  Sweet yet hardheaded and defiant.  His elven name reflected that he supposed.

"My lord Spider, you may call me what you will."  He offered a rare smile, though it was sad and spoke of his acceptance of loss.  "It seems to me that you have kept me for company, much like men keep dogs or cats as pets.  And like a dog or a cat, it is the master’s right to name them.  Is it not?"

Spider smiled, beckoning for him to come closer. "Oh how much I enjoy such polite defiance hidden behind such a smile..." He chuckled, stretching his arms out behind him as he watched his new acquisition.

"I suppose I should call you something elven, perhaps befitting of such sweet stubbornness in the presence of a lord. Against a higher crown...In the SIndarin, Ri-Or-dan. " He smiled languidly.

"I think it suites you." The door opened then and several vampires entered, carrying a pitcher of cool water and a basin, another a sturdy wooden box. They left soft soft towels before leaving soundlessly.

Spider thanked them as they walked away, leaning back to open the box.

"Come, my little Riordan," he crooned, placing a small bowl on the side of the bath. He poured several bottles into the bowl until its contents frothed thick and white. 

He removed his tunic, tossing it aside as the elf spoke of his mother. "You'll find I'm not without my mercies, child." His voice was soft, almost apologetic, though there would never be any apologies. The great warlord walked toward the bath, his eyes as calm as his hands were meticulously slow in removing his boots and leather breeches. He stood then to his full height, unashamed of his nakedness as he pulled a cord on the eall , ringing a bell somewhere far off.

He was a large man, as tall as an elf with broad muscled shoulders. His skin was dark, like one touched by the suns of exotic locales, though he had never laid eyes upon daylight. Unlike the elves, his chest was marked with dark curls of hair that flowed down into a stream that traversed his sculpted stomach ending at the darker delta below.

Saying nothing, he stepped into the bath, humming in pleasure as the water enveloped his battled-hardened muscles. There was a shimmer of dried blood and dirt in the water as he relaxed against the side of the tub, closing his eyes. He spoke softly after a time, though he remained blissfully relaxed.

Elladan smiled a little as he once more took Louis’ cold hand into his own. He shook the hand firmly, his eyes locked with Louis’ for that moment. “It was nice to meet you as well, Louis.” He licked his lips uncertain of how friendly normal people were toward new acquaintances. Choosing to treat his new neighbor as he would have treated anyone else in need, he smiled again and released the other man’s hand. “If the landlord does not get your heat up and running tomorrow, let me know. I would not have a problem letting you come up and steal a hot shower.”

He motioned to the upper level with a kind of shrug, “It is only me up there, so you would not be bothering anyone at all.” He nodded to Louis, his eyes honest and kind. “I would want someone to help me out if I found myself without heat or a warm shower. And we are going to be neighbors. I would like to think I might knock on your door if I needed help with something.”

El nodded a little and gathered up his things to head back into his own apartment. He worried a little that this Louis might find him strange or off-putting for having offered up his own bathroom so freely, but the truth was he was not used to being alone. Louis seemed nice, quiet, and maybe even a touch lonely. They were going to be neighbors who lived nearly in the same home anyway, why should he not extend some kindness to the other male?

He sat down on the couch and drew bare feet up onto the cushion. Settling his chin on his knees he stared at the wall for a time. There was something else about Louis that made him feel a touch awkward, but he could not quite place his finger on it. Perhaps it was simply that he wanted the other to like him. He openly admitted in his own mind that it would be nice to find a friend only a door away.

Or, he thought to himself, it could be that he is attractive and you are finding more and more men claiming your interest these days.

"Goodnight, Elladan. I'll see you around." He gave him a smile as he disappeared back inside his apartment. When he closed the door, he realized his heart was beating faster and he scolded himself.

"'See you around?' God, that sounded desperate. Get a grip on yourself, Louis," he sighed. "The last thing that boy needs in his life is you" He headed into his bedroom and closed the door, rubbing his hands together. He removed his jacket and changed into a pair of sweats and his heaviest sweatshirt, curling up into bed with his laptop. Gaston jumped up onto the bed and took his place in his lap. He looked down at him with a sad smile, rubbing his ears.

"Thank you, mon petit. I appreciate the warmth." He leaned down to kiss his head, sighing softly. Gaston made a calming noise and he shook his head.

"Non, cher. He's way out of my league. Boy like that, he comes from money and breeding. He's probably on the phone with some pretty elf socialite right now, talking about what exotic vacations they'll go on..." He sighed. "That one was made for the sun." He suddenly felt very tired, and never bothered to open his computer. Instead he lay back under the blankets and tried to think of anything else but the all consuming cold, but all he could think about was the elf's face. Finally he fell asleep close to when the sun rose, the cat curled up against his chest.

Spider rode out before his bannermen, his great black warg leading the frenzied pace of the hoard as the black mass processed toward the keep. His eyes were on the great iron gate that lay before them, but his thoughts were far back behind him, ensnared by a pair of violet eyes.

He smiled as he heard the cheers from within the gate as the scouts spotted them. “Lord Spider’s returned!” “All hail the heir to the flame!” The howling of the beasts rose as they entered the outer wall of the bastion, their fiendish screams filling the air as their victors came home. Spider lifted a long elven sword over his head, silencing the hundreds amassed before him.

"Your master has once again rent the stars from the sky and cast them into the dirt where they belong. Tonight we feast on their holy blood!" There was a roar of cheers as two orcs dragged the leader of the warrior elves before him. Lifting him onto his feet, Spider tore into his neck with his brutal fangs, draining him easily and spraying those closest with arterial blood, before tossing his body aside for the hungry orcs to do with what they wanted.

The cheering and frightening songs of his men followed him as he made his way to the raised dais on the far end of the courtyard. He handed one of his servants his cloak as he took a seat in the black thorny throne above the throng, wiping the blood from his face. He raised a glass of blood laden wine to the masses as they erected and lit a massive bonfire in the courtyard. Their terrible cries and chants rose into the dark as embers fell upon them all like confetti at a parade, drowning out the pained cries of those that had not had the fortune to find the end of a blade in the night’s earlier battle. And above them the dark young lord toasted their victory over the elven menace.

When he had tired of the blood and ferocious dance of his orcs as they reveled around the fire, the vampire silently made his escape. He slipped into the shadows that danced on the soot-lined walls, disappearing down into the depths of the keep, where the sounds and smells of the carnage above did not reach. It was not before long he found himself deep within the belly of the castle, his boots making little noise as he came to a stop before a particular cell in the dungeon. His face held no emotion as he looked down on the defeated form of the thin elf whose violet eyes so intrigued him.

"Come my elf." He said calmly, his voice slow and melodic in its strange accent. His eyes did not leave him, even as he unlocked the door with his mind.

Sitting there in silence he cried no tears, even as his heart broke for those around him.  He would not cry like some elfling.  If this was to be the way his life ended, he would meet it bravely.  He would look it in the eyes with his chin raised as proudly as he could hold it.

Footsteps sounded in the hall outside, the fall of the step far more firm and graceful than the comings and goings of the orcs.  He looked up as the huge man appeared, his gold eyes gleaming as he looked at the elf from a face that wore no emotion under bloody streaks of red like warpaint.  Yet his voice seemed almost gentle as he spoke, calling him ‘my elf’.  He brought a kind of cold

"But you will call me Master Spider, as I will not tolerate elvish in these walls, nor would I seek to cause you pain by speaking my true name in the black speech." His voice was relaxed, at ease in the afterglow of his victory over the young man's people. He shielded him in the shadow of his arm around him as they walked across one of the open walkways overlooking the carnage of the party below, though the sounds and scents reverberated through the blackened stone corridor.

"Why though...why is a harder question to answer." He smiled to himself as he led him up into the tower where his chambers lay. "You see, my elf, we all have masters...masters which tell us what we should do, and whom we trust to have our best interest at heart. My master says, remove the threat of the elves from path of progress, and I trust him, and I obey, for his vision of a prosperous middle earth is my vision as well." He squeezed his shoulder as he opened the great wooden door to his rooms, lit only by low burning candles in the iron chandeliers slung low throughout the vast luxury of his rooms.

"And good masters, as you will too discover, always reward those who are loyal and obedient to them." He closed the door, casting out the sound and smoke from the world outside. Slowly he approached him, reaching out to touch the angle of his jaw, lifting his chin to look into his bruised face. "Magnificent..." He said to himself as he admired him, smiling like a well-fed cat. "Do you know what prize there is to be desired, when one has all the riches of the world at his fingertips?" He released him, turning to open the door to his bath, pour in steam from the room. He looked back at the young elf.

"You are right in one respect," he said seriously, pushing the elfling's hair behind his ear with gentle fingers, his touch lingering against his ears as he observed him. "Your name does not matter. In fact, it never will again...Not for the rest of your life." His yellow eyes flickered up at the whimpering female beyond.

"But there are far more things I could do with you, my elf." He watched as he stopped fighting, unnerved in some small way by the power in his voice as he demanded he spare his mother.

Standing up to his full height again, he started down at him for a moment, his face still as he came to a decision.

"As you wish." He said softly. "They will not have her." In the matter of two great strides, he crossed the clearing and drew his sword, piercing the woman through the throat, killing her almost instantly.

As the orcs were coming forward, their hands and eyes cruel, she let out a scream; a warning for them to stay away even as she tried to push the not yet grown ellon to run.

He stood behind his mother, eyes frightened and yet defiant.  He wanted to fight, to protect his naneth from the foul orcs.  Drawing his sword the young elf charged and began to fight with the orcs.  It was a fight that was over quickly and as he heard his mother screaming he began to fight all the harder.  “Let her go!  Unhand my naneth!”

There came a voice then, cruel and menacing, and the hands on him went still even as they pinned his thin arms behind his back in a painfully awkward angle.

Tamuril was struggling under the cruelty of several orcs, her son lost to her under the pile of more of the creatures.  She looked up at the creature, her eyes angry and unhappy.  She had to try.  On her knees she looked up at the beast, “Please.  Please don’t hurt him!  Let my son go!  Please!” 

"If not for market, she'd fetch a fine price among my men..." The orc laughed, slowly sliding the sleeve of her dress down over her shoulder as one of the others held her.

"Don't." Spider's voice was firm, and softly spoken, even as it thundered through the ears of those assembled in the clearing. The air was thick with the scent of burning bodies as the orcs began to burn the village, but the massive vampire paid none of it any mind. His yellow eyes were transfixed on the struggling youth who had not given up trying to save his dying family, even as he spat blood into the dirt beneath his captors' heels. There was something about his young face--so pure and fair as most young elves, but touched with a hardness, and ferocity that caught his attention as if he was for a moment entranced.

Walking over to where they held him down in the dirt, he kicked away the child's sword, crouching down low before him, his black cloak fanning out on the ground around him as he reached out to take the elf by the chin, lifting his bruised face to look into his own.

"And what do they call you, elfling that would fancy himself the savior of his kind?" His hand was strong, fingers sliding down along his pale throat to feel his racing pulse. The touch was strange for such large rough hands, as gentle as a lover's caress, though at any moment, a mere flick of his fingers would break the boy's spine in two.

His father and elder brother were both dressing quickly, their eyes hard and serious; the eyes of warriors ready to do battle.  At his question those eyes swung to him, and he knew in that instant that he would not be allowed to fight and he began to protest.

"Lonneg," his father’s voice was kind, gentle even.  "Take your naneth and hide away from the fighting.  You are a poet, not a fighter.  Stay with your naneth.  If things get bad I want the both of you to run.  Do you understand?"

""Yes adar."  He nodded before turning to his naneth.  His mother was frightened, he could feel it in her.  Even so she said a quiet good bye to his father before turning to him.  "Come lonneg nin.  We must hurry."

The elves never stood a chance. By the time the warlord dismounted, the dirt paths of the village were muddied with blood, the clanging of swords and buzzing of arrows through the air far quieter than the screaming lamentations of those that had yet to die. Thlingrelfern barked out orders as he saw several orcs cornering children and several women near the southern wall of the village, reminding them they were to be kept alive. The man had a business to run, after all. He heard the scream of one of his commanders on the other end of the street and stalked over, his long legs taking easy strides to go to his comrade's aid, if only to stick a knife in his neck to end his pitiable cries. It was there he found K'vor in combat with two elves, related from the look of them. The other one was injured, bleeding from the side as he continued to fight. Upon seeing the mountain of a man that was Thlingrelfern, he was for a moment distracted, and it was all it took for a single swing of the orc's club to end him. The younger elf screamed in horror, and Spider wasted no time in walking forward to pierce him through the back, silencing the annoying noise finally. "They were guarding something. Spread out and find it." He said to several of the orcs that had followed him. He strode through the elves' small home, turning over furniture boredly as he searched for anything of value. These weren't the rich elves of Mirkwood or Rivendell. Peasants, really, and they disgusted him. He threw open the back door of the house as he heard a scream, a dangerous smile on his face as he found a woman standing before her son as his men surrounded them.