Bound, and waiting. by Haeron

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Chapter 3

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Part Three

Imladris, Third Age, Dusk

 

Upon their bed, upon Glorfindel’s lap sat Erestor that night, pushing his hands into the softness of Glorfindel’s fragranced hair, bending to bite his lower lip; a show of an urge, of a want. Glorfindel was smiling lazily, his own hands splayed and holding Erestor about the waist. He opened his mouth a little more for Erestor’s access, but his invitation went unanswered. With an achingly (and barely) chaste kiss to the fullness of Glorfindel’s lips, Erestor pulled away.

 

The room was dim with candlelight, but such as it always was though the sun had not yet dipped to her slumber. Glorfindel could not abide the dark since his stay in Mandos, and the nights still as yet held much terror for him. But the candlelight loved him; stars to his sun. The flames danced on their wicks and cast their little shadows on the walls, everything moved with a mellow energy, the room seemed full with it. Glorfindel’s lashes cast butterfly shadows on his cheeks as he bowed his head, letting Erestor press small kisses the his hairline, to his brow, to the skin under his eye.

 

Erestor was garbed in the silken night garments Glorfindel favoured so much, of deepest blue and red to set against his dark hair and eyes, and their feel upon his skin was second only to Glorfindel’s own touch. It was a sensory bliss, one that could only come on quiet nights like this, when all of Imladris was abed and safe, hidden in a valley.

 

How familiar that seems...

 

Glorfindel whispered his name, and Erestor smiled, pulling away once again lest he lose himself and his original curiosity go unsated another minute longer.

 

He touched Glorfindel’s collar. It was still warm.

 

And he had never taken it off since his arrival in Imladris, not to Erestor’s knowledge, and they had been bound for many a century... But when he dipped, albeit shallowly so as not to stir the pain, into memories of Gondolin, he could remember seeing Glorfindel’s bare neck. He remembered touching it.

 

He remembered Glorfindel had not worn it when he died.

 

Erestor wondered in his head, and perhaps too loudly for Glorfindel gave a merry laugh, one of his own and one meant entirely privately for the both of them; it was not a laugh to bring others to laughter, as so often was heard in the Hall of Fire. Erestor touched the dimple in Glorfindel’s left cheek and bowed to kiss it.

 

He’s himself with me. He’s Glorfindel.

 

Though sometimes the Balrog-slayer came to his bed...

 

Erestor shivered with delight.

 

‘And you will wonder until the end of all days if I do not tell you, won’t you?’ Glorfindel said and returned Erestor to himself. When Erestor nodded, Glorfindel grew somewhat sombre and took a breath that might have been to fortify himself. A tingle of dread crept up Erestor’s spine, he had never since liked spying such looks of fright in Glorfindel’s eyes, no matter how swift their appearance. He took Erestor’s hands and Erestor held them fast, dark as his were pale; the colour of russet. Erestor brushed his thumbs over the roughness of Glorfindel’s skin, and when Glorfindel met his eyes they were like liquid gold, warm, and asking something of him he had already long given.

 

Erestor smiled. He inclined his head a little.

 

Something went unspoken between them, and Glorfindel relaxed somewhat. He watched the candles on the shelves for a time, he watched them on the desk and the nightside table. Erestor saw their reflection in his eyes. He could have looked for a thousand years.

 

He could have waited for a thousand more.

 

Wait for me.

 

Glorfindel’s voice broke his half-reverie. It was like honey, and just as sweet as it was deep.

 

‘This collar was forged for me in Gondolin, long before we met. I was little more than a child barely past majority when I received it. It is...’ Glorfindel pondered a moment, chasing a word that evaded his tongue. ‘It is a reminder of my duty. Protection, service. That’s why it’s a collar, not a necklace or some such, and that is why it’s mine.’

 

Erestor was reeling in the gentle shock when Glorfindel took his hands to place upon his neck again. Has he carried this burden for so long? Erestor wondered to himself, feeling the line of the metal, soft against his fingers for all its metallic hardness. Has he been driven so since he was a child? Erestor could say nothing, Glorfindel smiled sadly.

 

‘It was not such a bad life, I was born of Princes,’

 

‘You were still a child,’

 

‘We needed to grow quickly in Gondolin, you know that, love,’

 

Erestor nodded, aye, he did.

 

The birds were carolling outside, the strange songs that came in the unlight of dusk and neither before nor after. The light turned amber; the sun was setting on the valley.

 

‘When I was reborn, I had it again. But by then I already had a new collar.’ Glorfindel said, with no trace of mirth or lightness. There was a steel in his voice, and Erestor perchance thought he heard a lilt of something that might have been guilt.

 

He didn’t understand the words, and Glorfindel saw it plain on his face. He smiled and Erestor smiled back, a little churlishly, knowing full well Glorfindel would be celebrating an inward victory for having confounded the mighty counsellor at last. ‘You have two?’ Erestor asked, deeming honest unknowingness to be the better course of action, even if it was a tactic he employed only ever rarely. Usually, his mandate was to confuse if confused, fire with fire, and all that.

 

Glorfindel nodded his solemn answer, and reached up. He was undoing it, the collar, and Erestor felt as though his heart had leapt suddenly to his mouth. Glorfindel’s face was a picture of resignation and his hands worked behind his head, occasionally Erestor would hear a delicate metallic sound - the sound of a latch unfastening, and as sweet as the clicks and ticks were to his ear, he knew not whether he should be about to witness what he was about to witness! It seemed so holy a thing, so private a thing... Erestor could not be sure that he should not look away. Perhaps Glorfindel heard his thoughts again then, for their eyes met and fiercely. Neither said a word.

 

And Erestor reminded himself, with a wave of love, that they were one soul, that they had been for such a long time. Had the grief of two Ages spent sundered not been enough to prove that?

 

Wait for me.

 

Erestor watched as Glorfindel took the collar off, it was beautiful in his hands, a masterwork of clean gold and shaped to perfection.

 

But what had lain under it was decidedly harder to look at.

 

By the light of a dozen dozen candles Erestor saw it, Glorfindel’s collar under his collar just as he had said; a scarred collar from the Balrog’s whip, where it had choked him atop Cirith Thoronath. There was a thin red line around Glorfindel’s neck that looked as raw as if it were fresh. Erestor gasped, in mingled awe and fear and had, by the whim of some unknowable and sudden instinct, almost reached out to touch it when he caught himself short.

 

Glorfindel shook his head.

 

He took Erestor’s small hands again.

 

And put them on his neck.

 

He traced the line of the scar with a gentle fingertip, he brushed the jagged edges of it with his thumbs; Erestor touched and felt the unsmoothness of the skin beneath his fingers. He sighed, hotly, and saw Glorfindel had closed his eyes in something akin to pleasure. Erestor continued his delicate manual exploration, turning Glorfindel’s head slightly to better see more, and there it was - a complete red ring of scarring, messy and unseemly, and almost aflame it looked. Erestor could not take his eyes from it.

 

It was beautiful, in its own way.

 

‘I’ll never forget,’ Glorfindel said in a low rumble. He could have been speaking of a thousand things, all as valid as the next, but Erestor understood something in his voice, and understood that somehow Glorfindel had meant all and none of them. Such was the burden, such was its completeness, its absoluteness.

 

Protection, service.

 

Wait for me.

 

Erestor wished it had been simple happiness instead. A child’s wish and just as light with a hope that would never soar, he wished it, as he had wished it a thousand times before and would wish it a thousand times again. Their eyes met then; brown and gold, and some sorrow, a sadness, passed between them as it always did when sharing memories of Gondolin or the Fall...

 

But there was a swell of pride, too, and Erestor beamed before be bowed to kiss Glorfindel full on the lips.

 

My unbent flower, my warrior Prince.

 

Glorfindel took the kiss and magnified it tenfold, suddenly and quickly with a deftness that made Erestor laugh with a rising anticipation, he pushed his raven lover down onto the bed on the flat of his back. The collar went unheeded; Glorfindel came to him bare.

 

Though not quite.

 

Erestor’s hands went straight for the laces of Glorfindel’s shirt about the neck, he pulled at them indiscriminately until something shifted - his arousal was growing and providing too heady a distraction as Glorfindel positioned himself atop him with a dominance that always and ever made Erestor quake with want. A want to dominated, by him, a want to be his and utterly... And when the shirt came undone, it was discarded as quickly as it had been that morning upon the training field. They both recalled the memory, and a smile passed between them before they came together in a new kiss.

 

Glorfindel’s scar caught the candlelight.

 

He pushed Erestor’s legs apart to settle himself between them and Erestor pushed up; another instinct he could not withhold. Glorfindel whispered something low into his ear, breaking the kiss, and pushed down on Erestor’s groin, pushing his hips flat to the bed. Erestor moaned, wanted more, but Glorfindel removed his hand. ‘Wait,’ Glorfindel whispered, and smiled into their fresh kiss. Erestor did as he was bid, pushing again his hands into Glorfindel’s hair and delighting in its softness between his fingers. He gave Glorfindel the kiss he had denied him previous, and with a moan of satisfaction Glorfindel paused in his efforts to disrobe Erestor as he pushed his tongue into a willing mouth.

 

The urge to push up with his hips again was almost unbearable for Erestor, now with Glorfindel delving deep in his mouth. Long, lazy kisses they shared; each one more tempting than the last, and Erestor whimpered as he writhed somewhat unsated on the bed. The want of friction was growing insatiable. Glorfindel understood, driven by a similar and sudden lust, and returned to his previous efforts. With a tug and a gentle request for Erestor to lift his hips, Glorfindel pulled down the silken nightpants Erestor had donned for his pleasure; aesthetic and otherwise. Erestor felt a flush of chill on the bareness of his legs, but only for a moment before Glorfindel had covered him with himself again.

 

And Glorfindel’s hand, for all too brief a moment, ghosted over Erestor’s waiting cock before coming to rest on his hip.

 

Erestor let out a disappointed moan which Glorfindel kissed and turned to playful frustration. Settled atop and beneath one another, they fell into an easy rhythm that, despite its long familiarity, sparked always new delights in the deep places of Erestor’s stomach, where lust leapt and made the blood drunk. Smiles turned to expressions of concentrated passion, Erestor lay in his silken robe, undone and splayed around him; a swathe of royal purple beneath his body. Glorfindel lowered himself, kissing the delicate collarbones, the lines of a throat. He bit at Erestor’s shoulder, and Erestor held Glorfindel’s golden head to him.

 

Wait for me, he almost whispered it.

 

But then he felt it, a tap of something on his lips. Erestor opened his eyes and saw Glorfindel looking up to him, half dizzy with passion it seemed, and his two forefingers he held just above Erestor’s lips. Understanding, Erestor took the offered hand and prised a third finger to join the two offered to him. He saw another wicked smile turn Glorfindel’s lips before he closed his eyes and took Glorfindel’s fingers into his mouth.

 

They tasted of salt and skin and of the nothing and everything therein contained, but Erestor delighted not so much in their taste but rather what his actions with them did to the golden sun-god resting his head upon his chest and with a lazy spare hand teasing Erestor’s nipple to hardness. Erestor heard a moan as he pushed his tongue up the length of Glorfindel’s fingers, sucking on them, wetting them as best his could; Glorfindel’s lascivious exploration of his chest was making him antsy again for more kisses, more friction, for the fingers he lavished to push inside of him. It was a thought to stir the blood, and Glorfindel mayhap heard the quiver in Erestor’s exhalation, for he withdrew his fingers.

 

And sat up. With his other hand he spread Erestor’s legs again and with his other he sought Erestor’s groin. Glorfindel did not smile; his face was hazed with something else, his lips parted, his eyes heavy, and always now Erestor’s eyes darted to the ring around his neck. He descended on Erestor for more kisses as his wet fingers teased his opening, circling the rim, pushing only a little, and the kisses were sweet, flitting and chaste things. The nudging pleasure was teasingly delicious, but Erestor had a greater want of more. It only took one fevered please from him to inspire Glorfindel.

 

With his free hand he cradled Erestor’s face, he pushed his fingers inside of Erestor just as he pushed his tongue inside his mouth.

 

Erestor gave a muffled moan, and surrendered himself utterly.

 

He clutched at the pillow beneath his head as Glorfindel worked him slow with his fingers, pulling out and pushing in, slow at first but growing fast, growing frantic to match their hearts. And as Glorfindel grew more intent in his task, their kisses fell to distraction until they were but simply exchanging breath, hot and fast and sweet, exchanging air, breathing in the breaths of the other. Erestor whispered deeper and Glorfindel smiled. And acquiesced.

 

The pace slowed then as Glorfindel reached, with every push, for the spot that would drive Erestor to near madness. Glorfindel’s fingers were rough and coarsely textured as all were that had held swords for as long as he, but never did Glorfindel fall to brutality in his movements. He was always kind, always full of passion, never violence. Erestor’s moans began to come louder, his plies for more wavered more and turned to moans themselves. A drape of Glorfindel’s hair that was not bound up fell beside his face, Erestor tangled his fingers up into it, and pulled him down so that they rested brow to brow.

 

Glorfindel was biting his lip when Erestor felt a twinge of early orgasm.

 

He gave a carnal shiver and whispered his nearness. Glorfindel stopped his ministrations, gradually; it would not do to finish things so soon, the both of them knew. When Glorfindel pulled his fingers from Erestor, they both sighed, and smiled, breathing as though sorely tired after an afternoon’s run (not that Erestor would know that fatigue, having shirked his exercise for long years now). Erestor felt the achingly good tenderness that comes after such, and his hands began to travel down the smoothness of his own body, to sate that wet desire anew.

 

But Glorfindel caught them before they had even dipped below his naval.

 

Erestor opened the eyes, whimpered a little.

 

Glorfindel kissed him.

 

‘Oil,’ he whispered, and feeling Erestor’s wanting mouth under his brushed his tongue against Erestor’s. Erestor would have pulled him down into the kiss and knew Glorfindel had half a mind to give in, but he had a stronger urge, evidently. ‘Erestor,’ he said again and his voice was a low rasp. ‘Erestor, the oil, let me have you, I need to... I...’

 

They kissed again. For a moment something other than lust came over them, a residue of the sadness that had just been, a blaze of something in the heart that bound them together. It flared like the sun and forged them closer; soul to soul, heart and heart. And when they parted, Glorfindel brushed their noses together. Erestor smiled, watching him sit up, and sat up himself with some effort.

 

As he leant over to rummage in the draw of the nightstand, he gave Glorfindel a glance, and saw it met.

 

‘Take your hair down,’ he said.

 

Glorfindel did. He reached up to take the pins from his hair, and a cascade of golden splendour came down around his shoulders, lightly curling and as thick as any hair Erestor had ever seen before, and radiant against the bronze of his skin. Producing the small vial, Erestor tossed it to Glorfindel who caught it deftly, and smiled his thanks.

 

Erestor lay back upon his back, nested in silks and cotton and all the lavishness of their marital bed. He watched, feeling his hummingbird heart but a centimetre beneath his skin, Glorfindel unbuttoning his trousers, unbuckling the belt and casting it aside to land with a thud alongside his shirt; somewhere, anywhere. Pulling his trousers open a little more, Glorfindel freed his own erection from its confines. Erestor felt an gutting ache to see it; his grandeur. Their eyes met for the briefest moment when he let out something of a guttural half-groan that was all his bubbling anticipation. Erestor watched Glorfindel unstopper the vial, and pour an amount of the oil onto the palm of his hand. It dripped onto the duvet, but Erestor hadn’t a care. There, by the light of the candles and his own glow, Glorfindel looked as a figure from a cathedral centrepiece; heavenly and entirely good.

 

Hopefully not entirely, Erestor thought to himself, watching Glorfindel take himself in hand.

 

Erestor propped up a leg, watching his heart and soul taking his own pleasure, coating himself liberally; oil fell in drops, from his cock, his hand, and Erestor constrained a great desire to grasp Glorfindel by the gold of his hair and pull him to him, inside of him. But a greater part of him counselled for patience, and Erestor heeded it.

 

There wasn’t, after all, reason enough to interrupt Glorfindel’s pleasure.

 

His face was a picture of blossoming ecstasy.

 

When Erestor called his name like the chiming of a bell he came to himself with something of a sheepish smile. It only endeared him all the more to his raven lover. Erestor beckoned with a hand, and Glorfindel wiped his on the bedsheets before assuming his prior position above Erestor. Their erections came together then before Glorfindel positioned himself, and a jolt of fresh anticipation mixed with that ever-present anxiety shot up Erestor’s spine. And as Glorfindel came to kiss him, he felt a nudge.

 

Holding Glorfindel’s face to his, Erestor pushed. Glorfindel slid into him, with a low, blissful moan that made Erestor smile; but only the ceiling saw. Glorfindel buried his face the in crook of Erestor’s neck as he began his movement, quickly, to lessen Erestor’s initial pain. And as hurried and lustful and red-hot as their foreplay had been, their lovemaking slowed to a delicious dance.

 

Erestor always liked it slow.

 

He always liked it deep.

 

Glorfindel’s size was considerable, but the discomfort passed as quickly as it ever did; they knew one another’s bodies well, and Erestor trusted himself completely to Glorfindel. Their bodies had long since become companions, and became as one in the night by the light of the candles, moving as one, breathing as one. Only Erestor’s grasping hands; one in Glorfindel’s hair, the other clutching at his back, gave indication of their being separate entities. Everything was warm, Erestor felt full. He ached, but with a wispy voice bade Glorfindel take him deeper.

 

‘Love,’ Glorfindel whispered into his neck, and Erestor felt his hands about his waist tighten.

 

He felt Glorfindel’s cock push into him, deeper, deeper with every slow thrust that came like a crashing of a foamy wave upon a virgin shore. He filled him up, filled his tightness and Erestor worked him the best he could, pushing his lithe body up to meet Glorfindel’s. Their skin was hot when it touched, and Glorfindel craved for it again. ‘Pull yourself around me,’ he breathed, and Erestor understood. He wrapped his legs tight around Glorfindel’s body, and pulled them closer.

 

They were as one, and Erestor’s moans with every buck of Glorfindel’s hips came with a smile of ecstasy.

 

Wait for me, wait for me, the words spun in Erestor’s head.

 

Two Ages of Arda...

 

Deliriously slow and dizzy was their pace, but as their arousals grew, so too came with it speed. Erestor felt the shift in tempo and dug his nails into Glorfindel’s shoulders. Here it was when he lay indeed with the Balrog-slayer, the warrior of legend, here, when he fucked like a God in Valinor...

 

Glorfindel exertions of pleasure grew louder, too, though never near enough to rival Erestor’s; his moans of pleasure were of the breath and all its air, ragged, sweating, shaking. But now, with an end in sight, Glorfindel pushed himself harder and harder and harder into Erestor. And Erestor took him as deeply as he might, spreading his legs further, and as he did so Glorfindel lifted himself a little, rising from Erestor’s neck to help spread his legs with the flat of his hands. Erestor threw back his head onto the pillow; the feeling of Glorfindel stretching him...

 

He wasn’t going to last.

 

Their lovemaking continued in such a fashion, but for how long Erestor could never say; it seemed to last the full width of the night and yet take up only the briefest heartbeat. Time flows strangely for Elves. Glorfindel gave a shaking groan. Erestor opened his eyes.

 

Glorfindel had his head tilted, sat up, his hands pushing apart Erestor’s legs as his body thrust between them. A sweat dappled his brow making him seem a thing of wax, and his eyes were closed with the exertion. His back would be sweating too, Erestor knew, glistening, shining, because of their lovemaking...

 

Erestor felt another shudder.

 

It was ending.

 

He clutched at the covers under his hand and called Glorfindel’s name in a whimper, he called it again, bade him not stop, bade him fuck me harder, fuck me... but even as Erestor was saying it Glorfindel pulled his cock from him in one long, slow movement that made him shiver as much as it confused him. Blinded by a haze of lust awash now with confusion, Erestor blinked up at Glorfindel.

 

And though Glorfindel had to most wicked expression on his face; there was no smile to match.

 

‘You wish to finish,’ he said, it wasn’t a question.

 

Erestor nodded, trying to push his hips back onto the hardness of Glorfindel’s length, but he held it again in his own hand, stroking idly his impressive member. The scar around his neck drew Erestor’s eye; he looked from his face, to neck, to torso, to cock. Glorfindel stroked himself, brushing a thumb over the tip and sighing at his own touch.

 

It made Erestor want to weep.

 

It made him want to help.

 

It made him want to come.

 

‘Beg, beg for me,’ Glorfindel whispered.

 

Erestor’s eyes went wide, he saw the devious smirk just turning the corner’s of Glorfindel’s mouth, and smiled himself though it was far more helpless. ‘Please,’ he whispered - knowing it would do no good. Glorfindel would tell him what he wanted.

 

Erestor felt a sudden desire to do ought he asked, to do anything...

 

‘More, beg me,’

 

Glorfindel pressed the tip of his cock to Erestor’s opening, and elicited a whimper.

 

‘Please, Glorfindel, I need... I need you to...’

 

‘Yes,’

 

The words wouldn’t come, Erestor had no head for words at such a time. His body was rife with a low throb of incompletion when it yet hung in the balance, his own stiff member ached awfully for release but he knew his hands would be taken from him were he to reach out and satisfy himself. The thought gave him a trill of excitement.

 

But that’s not what either of us want.

 

Erestor knew what he wanted.

 

He only had to hope it pleased Glorfindel, too.

 

He smiled as he looked into golden eyes, to the face masked with pleasure, the lips held just barely apart, wanting for a kiss...

 

‘Glorfindel, Glorfindel I need... I need you to be in me, I need to finish with you in me, I need you, all of you, I...’

 

Glorfindel’s cock breeched him, just a little, before it pulled out again. Erestor moaned helplessly, his hands rested on his body, useless, his fingers sought his nipples; but there was only one satisfaction he wanted. He forced himself to open his eyes and keep them open, he pushed up his hips, he held Glorfindel’s gaze, he looked half-lidded up to him, and sighed.

 

‘I need to feel you come inside me, I..., I need to feel you finish deep in me, I need to feel your seed running down my thigh, Glorfindel, fuck me, please... please- ah!’

 

Glorfindel murmured something too quick for Erestor’s ears to catch, he pushed himself hot and hard into Erestor again, a long, deep thrust that made the both of them moan.

 

With a blazing smile Erestor felt his orgasm envelop him like so much icy water, he felt himself topple over the precipice of true, complete ecstasy and Glorfindel came toppling too. He clutched at Glorfindel’s shoulders, digging his nails deep as he felt his sun-god spend himself, and gasped his own completion.

 

***

 

Glorfindel lay on the bed, filled with lazy contentedness. His sleep had come on quickly after their finishing and cleaning up, and to bed they fell again with tangled limbs, smiles and kisses of a sweet sort. And they had been halfway through a whispered conversation when slumber took him for its own. Erestor smiled, a little taken aback.

 

‘Glorfindel?’ he whispered.

 

The candles had almost burned low, but the hours had grown so late that they were early again. There was already a fuzzy light behind the curtains; not quite daylight nor even dawn, but the dark of the night was truly passed.

 

‘Love?’ Glorfindel answered, but didn’t open his eyes.

 

Erestor laughed and bent to kiss his golden brow. Glorfindel smiled, reaching with a hand to stroke the dark of Erestor’s hair, unknowing how he was being watched as attentively as he might have been in the Halls of Healing. Erestor hadn’t the tug of sleep within his own breast yet, and might have whiled away an entire lifetime watching Glorfindel snooze.

 

He had fallen asleep after their first night together too, in Gondolin it had been in the rose garden that belonged to Glorfindel’s family. Yellow roses; the scent of perfume, wet soil and something good and wholesome in the air. They had made love for the first time that night, and Erestor remembered Glorfindel falling asleep too, in the middle of his grandmother’s rose garden. It had confounded him then, too, but the memory tickled him fondly. Of course, they had both been so much younger. Glorfindel’s face hadn’t the lines it had now, hadn’t the hardness around the eyes.

 

He hadn’t the scar.

 

Absently, Erestor reached out to stroke Glorfindel’s neck, but Glorfindel opened an eye and took Erestor’s hands on his own. At first, Erestor had thought it Glorfindel’s kind way of saying nay, do not touch, but then Glorfindel brought Erestor’s small hands to his mouth, and pressed kisses to the knuckles.

 

It was a thank you, but one wholly unnecessary.

 

‘You need not thank me for merely not finding your neck repulsive, Glorfindel, on the contrary I-’

 

But Glorfindel was shaking his head, or as much as one can shake their head when laying upon a pillow. His hair splayed over the pillow; Erestor was forever pulling long, golden strands from the bedcovers. ‘It is a thank you for understanding what my life is. A warrior’s life, whether I wish it so or not. You have suffered most from it, have you not?’

 

Erestor smiled.

 

‘It is you, a part of you, and I love you.’ he said, softly, truthfully. ‘And I love all parts of you,’ he added, a little more wryly.

 

Glorfindel raised a brow, quirked a smile.

 

‘All parts?’

 

‘Some parts especially,’

 

Glorfindel laughed then, his private laugh again; it was bright still but tinged with want of sleep. He could not keep his eyes open, the Golden Lord, and exhaled heavily as he closed them again.

 

‘You waited,’ was all he said.

 

‘We both did,’ Erestor whispered, ‘We both did,’.

 

And when it seemed Glorfindel might open his eyes again he stroked back the golden hair from the golden brow.

 

‘Sleep, flower.’

 

Glorfindel smiled, small and true.

 

Erestor reached to stroke Glorfindel’s cheek with the back of his hand, a hand that Glorfindel momentarily touched with his own. A response without word, a nod to his abundant tactility. And then Erestor lay himself down beside him in the cotton of their bed. He watched Glorfindel’s face as he fell to sleep; and there was peace there. The candles were pooling in wax, the air had grown chilled. Morning would arrive soon enough, but perhaps they would shun to greet it.

 

It made Erestor smile to think of, watching Glorfindel breathe in and out, in and out; such a simple motion but one of such copious comfort. He was alive. He was here, and Erestor was not about to say that the trials of Gondolin, the Fall, the two long Ages of separation were worth it, but...

 

Just then, Glorfindel pulled Erestor close, hooking an arm about his waist and pulling him near until his chin rested just atop Erestor’s head. He felt a butterfly kiss upon his temple.

 

Erestor smiled into the warmth of Glorfindel’s chest, inhaling all that he was.

 

Hell.

 

Maybe it was worth it.