Our Side of the World by Ulan

Rain (M)

Erestor gets caught out in the rain and he is not amused. Fortunately, Glorfindel is always ready to appease him.

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Rain was pouring heavily in the northern vale of Imladris, and Glorfindel, its captain, at least thought himself fortunate to be safely indoors. This was, of course, until he rounded a corner walking down one of the hallways, and was promptly and unceremoniously bumped into by someone who seemed to have come from the direction of the gardens. The Elf who was suddenly in his arms was dripping wet.

"Easy there. Are you all ri--" Glorfindel blinked, recognising who it was he was holding. "Goodness. Erestor?"

Sure enough, it was the usually neat and poised chief counsellor, caught running and muttering mid-curse. The Elf in question swept aside the wet hair that had stuck to his face from the rain and looked up at the captain, narrowing his eyes at him. "Hello, Glorfindel," he said in a clipped tone.

Glorfindel was not able to suppress his snort of amusement at the cold greeting. "Hello, darling," he greeted his husband with more warmth. "Enjoying the first rain of the season, I see."

At this, Erestor released another round of expletives. At least, they sounded as such; Glorfindel was not too sure, as the language also sounded like some form of Dwarvish.

"I was out at the farther end of the orchard when the rain suddenly poured," explained Erestor. "Literally poured. There was no slow creeping, no drizzle; it poured down as if the heavens and its heavy load cracked open right above me." Glorfindel bit back a grin at the picture. It was lost on his companion, however, as the Elf scowled at the open side of the hallway from which he had come and, cupping the side of his mouth with one hand, yelled up in the direction of the higher floors, voice full and rising despite the downpour. "Elrond! A little more finesse next time, eh? You are out of practice and it shows!"

Glorfindel laughed this time and pulled Erestor's hand from his mouth. "Don't make a ruckus, love. You'll end up scaring the ladies of the House again," he said in between chuckles. Erestor can be pretty harsh when irritated, and over the years, Glorfindel had found himself in several occasions when he had to rescue poor, hapless souls who were caught by his husband's short temper. One would not have expected it, so calm did he appear at work and in council, but marrying this Elf apparently brought with it its own new set of responsibilities. It was a good thing Elrond had warned Glorfindel beforehand.

With Erestor thus pulled back from an impending tantrum - Erestor would, of course, deny it if he ever found out about such accusations - a dark eyebrow rose as the counsellor's attention was now shifted to Glorfindel. He eyed the captain sharply, and Glorfindel was suddenly nervous. "Do not think I did not notice that you were quick to wrap your arms around me before you even recognised who it was who bumped you. Are you always like this?"

Glorfindel felt his shoulders tense. "Um..."

"If that is your first instinct, no wonder I still have Elves to chase off even after you have begun to wear my ring."

At first Glorfindel was afraid that they were about to fight. After all, Erestor in a foul mood never boded well for anybody, least of all his own husband, regardless if anyone was truly at fault. Knowing his place for when such times come, an apology was already forming on Glorfindel's tongue, but fortunately, Erestor eased on the glaring and simply scowled down at himself, distracted by his dripping state.

Without hint or warning, the chief counsellor pulled at his now heavy outer robes, which seemed to be made of a material that heavily absorbed water. Glorfindel was suddenly alert - this time, for a wholly different reason.

He watched fascinated as his husband pulled at the ties and shrugged off the dark robes, revealing a thinner, light grey set underneath. They would not have looked so obscene on a normal day, as they covered Erestor adequately even without the thicker one he wore on top of them. Today, however, they were soaked through and stuck to the chief counsellor's lean form, leaving little to the imagination.

Glorfindel's eyes slowly raked down that willowy body, familiar to him but still so tempting. With an appreciative eye, he looked at those broad shoulders, the lean arms, those well-formed pectorals from which the two nubs of Erestor's nipples stood out from the thin fabric. Glorfindel unconsciously licked his lips as his eyes continued down that shapely back and delectable backside, and further on to those long, long legs.

Blue eyes followed Erestor as he stalked over to the archways leading back out to the garden. There was a little bit of roof above and past the threshold for there to be a small stretch of grass that was guarded from the rain. Glorfindel watched as Erestor squeezed out at least some of the water from his robes, letting it drip to the grass. The dark-haired counsellor then briefly closed his eyes and seemed to take a calming breath, stretching out his long, smooth neck in the process, sensual by accident simply due to his innate grace. He proceeded to reveal more of that tempting white skin as he swept his long, black mass of hair from his face and neck, letting it fall over one shoulder, and Glorfindel, utterly taken, could not help but sigh. It was at this point when Erestor turned his head and caught him looking.

"What?" Erestor asked with a slight look of confusion, and just an edge of his earlier irritation.

Glorfindel licked his lips again, and did not even think to hide the desire in his eyes. Only Erestor could work him up this way, doing nothing but squeezing water out of his clothes and hair. "You are so oddly sexy like this," he said, a deep growl settling in his voice. "All sharp edges out, hot-headed and with a mouth that can outcurse a Dwarf or a drunken Dúnedain. You can pour your frustration out on me after all; I likely would not mind as long as you stay like this just a little while longer."

Erestor was just about to open his mouth, his face about to frown further in confusion at the sudden shift in mood, when his wrist was suddenly caught and he was pulled not a little harshly a few steps back to the marble-floored hallway. Glorfindel quickly checked their surroundings before he dragged Erestor to a nearby alcove.

"Glorfindel, what in Arda do you think y--mmph!" Erestor jumped as he was trapped between a cold wall and a hot, hard body, his mouth suddenly covered in a heated kiss. He arched up and shut his eyes in a shocked moan as deft fingers pulled and squeezed his nipples, nails scratching the sensitive tips through wet fabric, still stiff from the rain and the cool air.

"You seem to have had a bad morning, Counsellor," breathed Glorfindel against a now panting mouth. He licked at those parted lips, tongue curling as it caught the tip of another tongue. "Let me make it better for you, hmm?"

Distracting his husband with another kiss, Glorfindel proceeded to pull at the ties of that thin inner robe. Once the body he so loved and admired was revealed, he then sank down to his knees, to the shock, and later delight, of the darker haired Elf above him.

Needless to stay, they were in that alcove for a while, and Erestor found he no longer minded the heavy rains. They were, after all, useful in drowning out the sounds of what they were doing, which could not have been mistaken for anything else than what it was, and the resulting moans that would otherwise have to be suppressed had Glorfindel caught him on a quieter sunny day.

Hair (G)

Glorfindel helps Erestor get ready for a feast.

For AnnaShirou, who gave the prompt, and who always leaves such sweet and supportive comments in my stories. ♥

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Erestor knocked on his neighbour's heavy wooden door, and waited patiently in front of it as he listened for the familiar sound of movement beyond the solid oak. He needed not wait long, as light-footed steps gradually approached, and the door was opened to reveal a handsome face and a gentle smile.

"Erestor," greeted Glorfindel as he pulled the door to open wider. It revealed him wearing a beautiful set of robes as blue as the summer skies. It suited him well, bringing out the brilliant hue of his eyes. There were already braids in his hair, styled in a way that was fitting for the occasion that they were about to attend.

Erestor smiled at him. "Hello, Glorfindel. I hope I did not come too early."

"Nay, you have perfect timing. I have just finished with my own preparations, and was about to sit and wait for you when you knocked on my door."

He beckoned Erestor to come in, which the other graciously accepted with a nod before stepping inside. Glorfindel led and seated Erestor at the dressing table, a well-crafted piece that Glorfindel made himself. He had always been good with his hands, be it with a sword, with woodwork, and even this now, the very reason Erestor had come.

"What would you like?" asked Glorfindel as their eyes met in the mirror.

Erestor smiled at him and shrugged. "Please decide for me," he told the other. "I trust your judgment, for you have always looked so put together."

Glorfindel's grin was lopsided as he regarded Erestor. "I actually worried, you know. Do I do things so elaborately that Celebrían noticed and suggested we do this?"

"Worry not, my friend," said Erestor, amused. "I believe it is more a judgment upon me and the lazy way I fix my hair, which, to our lady, seems almost an affront." He chuckled as he added, "I blame her Vanyarin blood."

"We beg your pardon, oh serious Noldo," said an amused Glorfindel. "'Tis not our fault we appreciate beauty. Besides, not everyone has as many talents as you, that you do not have time for fair things and prefer the darkness and soot of your forges."

Erestor smiled and shook his head. It was a common game between them, joking about such things, for it was not long after their acquaintance that they spoke about their long lives. Erestor had been delighted to find out that Glorfindel was purely Vanyarin, for this detail was never written in their books, and coming from Turgon's host, many have come to regard Glorfindel as one of mixed blood, as most of their people were. To Erestor's reckoning, no other in Middle-Earth could claim a similar heritage as Glorfindel, for as it was, few of the Vanyar crossed over to Middle-Earth save during the Great War, and the few who had had already sailed and returned to Aman long ago. That Glorfindel was here had fascinated Erestor immensely.

They were not true, of course, the pure stereotypes about their races, and bloodlines were nothing more than an interesting detail about a person. Glorfindel was as good with his hands as any Noldorin master that Erestor knew, and had a singing voice as sweet as a Sindarin minstrel's. Still, some things about him were traditionally, delightfully Vanyarin, one of which was this - presenting one's self as a thing of beauty on special occasions, for which he and Celebrían shared a common delight.

With Erestor's blessing thus given, skillful fingers ran lightly through his hair from crown to the back of his head, combing back thick, black hair from his face. Pleasant tingles ran up Erestor's arms and he shivered at the touch, and he checked himself quickly at the tall mirror, fearing suddenly that he would blush.

Oh, he wanted Glorfindel, and nothing reminded him more of how much than times like this. It was his dearly kept secret, one almost as old as Imladris itself, for it was shortly after the beginning of the Third Age that they knew peace enough for him to think about such frivolous, indulgent things.

Yet even before this, they had been great friends in Lindon, for they found that they shared many common interests, and Glorfindel was exactly the kind of colleague that Erestor liked to work with - intelligent, diplomatic, generous, and able. He was easy to admire, for it was difficult to find anything that Glorfindel did poorly, or even anything he would refuse to do, especially for a friend. That Erestor found Glorfindel attractive was another surprise, for never had he been one to be preoccupied with such things, even in his youth. It was a novel experience, being around someone for whom he held such an opinion, and for many years Erestor kept close to Glorfindel, just enjoying his presence and pleasant company.

Erestor felt careful hands beginning to braid his hair, and he subtly took a deep breath, endeavouring to keep calm in spite of their proximity. He risked a glance up to Glorfindel's face and found him seemingly focussed and concentrated on his task. It was endearing, and really, it was difficult not to admire him like this. Glorfindel had a naturally smiling face, but serious was also a good look on him, and it never failed to cause a frisson of heat to course through Erestor. He knew he would blush if he stared long enough.

Blue eyes lifted momentarily and caught Erestor's gaze in the mirror. The movement of those fingers did not stop even as Glorfindel smiled warmly as they made eye contact, which he broke shortly after to pay attention once again to his work.

Erestor could not help but smile in return, though Glorfindel was no longer looking. Truly, Glorfindel was an easy person to love. He was always like this - open, affectionate, and he never embarrassed Erestor even though he must have caught him looking at inopportune moments hundreds of times in the past. Erestor wondered if the golden haired captain was like this with everyone, for he doubted that the other had any shortage of admirers. The silly thing had likely broken many hearts if that was so, for behaving thus made it so easy for one to hope.

And here, Erestor sighed. He reminded himself to be careful, which was something that was becoming less and less easy to do. But it would not do, not when they had something as good as their relationship now. He dared not risk it. Erestor had few friends he trusted as much as he did Glorfindel, and no other's company pleased him as much. To lose him would be unthinkable.

"What are you thinking so deeply about?" he heard an amused voice say. Erestor lifted his eyes up at the mirror again and saw Glorfindel with a friendly grin.

"What interest is it of yours what I think about, Captain?" he asked primly, with a proud lift of his chin.

"If I could pay for all the thoughts that go through your head, I would offer all the gold I earn here in Arda," Glorfindel cheerfully proclaimed.

Erestor raised an eyebrow at this, but before he could speak, Glorfindel's hands were upon his shoulders, pulling him to sit straight. At first, Erestor thought that they were done, for already his hair looked good enough for one of Celebrían's formal events. Glorfindel, however, merely walked around and crouched to Erestor's right, taking a lock of hair from beneath the rest and pulling it past the other's shoulder. This, he began to braid again.

"So," said Glorfindel, his eyes on the black lock of hair in his hands. "What were you thinking about?"

Erestor, in turn, watched him, for it was a good opportunity as any. "You are really interested?" he asked, amused.

Glorfindel met his gaze. "Of course."

"I was thinking..." Erestor sighed. "I was thinking of the worth of things. High rewards and high risks, and seeking change when things are already good."

"Why would you seek change when things are already good?"

Erestor watched as Glorfindel tied the end of the thin braid with a ribbon, watching not a little wistfully as the captain took one end between his lips to keep it taut and out of the way. The things he did tested Erestor in the oddest of moments.

"Perhaps sometimes good is not good enough," he said, maybe a little dazedly, for Glorfindel had parted his lips and a pink tongue darted out briefly to wet them as he tied and tucked the end of that ribbon neatly in Erestor's hair.

Glorfindel looked at him again, this time a little longer than he previously had. For a moment, Erestor feared that he had crossed a line, revealed too much. He did not fool himself into thinking that Glorfindel was completely oblivious of his regard, but given that neither of them had made any move nor said anything, Erestor had begun to believe that Glorfindel felt safe enough with him to let things be.

Before he could say anything, however - to take it back, apologise, he did not know - Glorfindel stood and walked to stand behind Erestor again. Those large hands settled on his shoulders. "What do you think?" he asked with a smile.

Erestor breathed easier, for Glorfindel's smile was warm as it had always been. He looked at himself in the mirror. Glorfindel styled his hair almost similarly as his own. Hair was pulled loosely from the crown and the sides of Erestor's head, braided skillfully and tucked and twisted against the rest that flowed straight down his back. He rarely wore his hair down like this, but he had to admit it was not an unpleasant change. "It looks lovely," he said pleasantly. "Celebrían shall be pleased."

Glorfindel laughed. "Good. That is the goal, after all, isn't it?"

"That, and maybe other things," said Erestor with a grin. "If others find out that this was your handiwork, I would not want for admirers for the entirety of the evening."

Glorfindel did not respond immediately, and merely toyed with the single thin braid that fell down Erestor's right shoulder. "I did not know you wanted for them at all," he said slowly.

Erestor looked up at him, curious, as the other's mood suddenly seemed odd and subdued. "Well, no, I do not," he said carefully. "It was just a joke."

A poor one, it seemed, judging by the way Glorfindel was not meeting his eyes. He continued to touch the braid, though his other hand was just as distracting. It held on to Erestor's other shoulder, squeezing a little, his thumb pressing firmly on a muscle on his back.

"I'm afraid this style will not do, Counsellor," Glorfindel said suddenly. "Would you mind if I change it a little?"

Erestor looked up, surprised. "Why?"

This time, Glorfindel did meet his gaze. Erestor was struck by what now looked like resigned sadness in those eyes, so unexpected and sudden given the lightness between them just a moment earlier. Glorfindel sighed and walked in front of Erestor again, crouching down so they were level with one another. His eyes strayed to that braid, which he took once again in his hand, his touch almost a caress.

"This," he said, nodding at the braid. "It is not meant to catch admirers. It does the opposite, actually."

Utter confusion, then shock, then a flicker of hope that Erestor sought to quickly quell - these flowed through him swift and almost violent, that Erestor thought himself fortunate that he was seated. "What...?" He could not continue the question.

"Such things mean something among the Vanyar," said Glorfindel. "We wear our hair for others to see, for others to read."

Erestor dared to ask, after a moment's pause. "What does mine say, then?"

Glorfindel sighed sadly. "It says," he began slowly, but the sentence was broken again by another deep sigh. "It says, 'My heart is held by another; I must not be approached, save in friendship.'"

He looked up at Erestor, who was looking at him wide-eyed, and his laugh was humourless when he said, "Presumptuous of me, I know. Let me remove it."

He lifted his other hand to pull at the ribbon. Erestor, waking from his stupor, quickly caught those fingers and kept them still, holding tight.

"Wait," he said weakly. "Don't. I want it to stay."

He caught a fleeting sadness in Glorfindel's eyes before they fell closed, and Erestor thought the hand beneath his trembled. When Glorfindel looked at him again, his face was guarded. "Never have I doubted this, save now when you mentioned it," he said. "Now, I cannot remove it from my mind. Erestor, keep this only if what it says is true. Nay; keep it only if you are meant for me and no other, for I would not have you wear the style of my people when you are not mine."

And just like that, despite the hot sting of shock behind his eyes, causing them to water, Erestor could not help but laugh. It was ridiculous that Glorfindel would even suggest another, for ever had Erestor been his and no other's, not even before they met.

He was lost for words, however, for too much joy allowed little in terms of speech. And so his lips sought to communicate in another way, and he kissed Glorfindel, long and hard and possessively, for pent-up desire of many years was difficult to rein. Anyway, Glorfindel did not seem to mind. Warm hands cradled Erestor's face so tenderly, and that mouth from which Erestor had heard utter such kind and sweet words for him (happily, he remembered them now in a different light) now opened under his in welcome. It tasted sweeter than anything Erestor knew, and he deepened the kiss, hands straying, for now he was allowed to touch.

His fingers met with a curious thing, however, and he broke the kiss with the soft, sweet sound of lips parting as something occurred to him. "The braid," he said, pulling now a similar golden braid from Glorfindel's beautiful hair. "You said it means... But you have always worn one, for as long as I have known you."

"That sounds about right," said Glorfindel. His smile was bright. "I have worn my hair like this since the day we met."

Work (PG13)

Elrond thought his advisers were acting strange.

Read Work (PG13)

Elrond was suspicious the moment they let him in.

"My Lord. How may I help you?" asked Erestor, his chief counsellor, who answered the door. Elrond thought he looked about the same as always, but...

"Do you usually lock your door in the middle of the day?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Oh. Of course not. Did you lock the door when you came in, Glorfindel?" This question Erestor directed to the other person in the room, his office mate and captain of the Imladhrim guard, Glorfindel. The Elf-lord in question was at his desk, perusing a scroll with grave focus.

"Hm?" asked the captain, lifting his gaze momentarily at the two of them. "Not to my reckoning, no, but I must have, haven't I, if you found it locked."

Now Elrond was even more intrigued; Glorfindel - or really, just one of these two councillors, who were usually at one another's throats and would loathe to display any weaknesses to the other - calmly admitting his mistake? Thangorodrim must be rising out from the Sea as they speak.

Another surprise: Erestor did not jump at the opportunity to mock, as he was wont to do with Glorfindel. Instead, he turned back to Elrond. "What brings you here, Elrond?" he asked again.

"Review this before I sign it, please." Elrond handed Erestor a scroll - the latest draft of an agreement with Thranduil. "I shall wait for it, if you do not mind. I believe it has been delayed for quite a while and I am anxious to see the contract closed and signed."

"Certainly," said his chief counsellor. Elrond watched him return to his desk.

It was a good opportunity as any to covertly observe the two councillors, in the guise of browsing through the shelves on one side of the room. He could not shake the feeling of... not necessarily misgiving, only that something was... different.

To his surprise, the first tell was Erestor. It did not take long until the councillor's free hand moved. It kept straying, albeit subtly, to the hair that fell on the sides of his face, as though he itched to fix it, but kept deciding against it.

This alone was suspicious, for Erestor was never one to fidget, but soon it was Glorfindel who gave himself away. His eyes strayed to Erestor before he dropped them again to the document before him.

Aah, thought Elrond, amused. Well, then.

"How goes that transfer for Saelbeth, Erestor?" he asked, breaking the silence.

The said Elf-lord looked up. "My lord?"

"You gave him such a hard time, the poor thing," said Elrond, smiling now as he approached Erestor's desk. "It truly was not his fault he caught Counsellor Esgarion's eye. We all know the good counsellor has his mind set on finding a mate - 'sometime in this Age,' I remember him saying."

"Yes," Erestor said slowly, eyes narrowing. "I remember it, too."

"It is a shame, but of course I see your point, Erestor, although perhaps I would not put it quite so passionately as you did at the time. I personally see no issues with holding such affections for a colleague after all, but certainly to share an office with a lover could compromise productivity. Not to mention, it would give the maids too much to talk about, and I rather value my peace."

A pause. "Right."

"Ah, but it is spring time," continued Elrond. "I cannot fault anyone, really, for it is the season for it. It is even a welcome respite from what you two put me through this past year." The lord of the valley smiled at his two most trusted councillors, both of whom sat still and quiet at their respective desks. "Aiya, you two fought so much, so glad am I that things are quiet between you nowadays. I am pleased that you are getting along well."

Erestor was beginning to look quite uncomfortable, and his eyes flew across the scroll as if he wanted the job done as soon as possible. As for Glorfindel, whatever he was working on must be pressing indeed, so intently did he give it such attention.

Well, business is business, and they really ought to have known better, senior officers that they were. He pitied them, really, but Elrond went on to say: "The new barracks are almost complete, Glorfindel. You must be looking forward to it, being with your own staff soon. This set-up must have been inconvenient for you, after all. I thank you for your patience."

Glorfindel looked up again and appeared almost taken aback. Funny, thought Elrond, as on those first weeks of sharing space with Erestor, the captain could not pass a day without lamenting the slow progress of the barracks' construction. Now, however, he glanced briefly at Erestor before answering Elrond. "You are welcome, my lord. And I look forward to the move, of course."

"Good, good," nodded Elrond. "You should be out of here by the end of the week. You will expedite his moving out, won't you, Erestor? I think that is best for all concerned."

"Yes, my lord," said the solemn adviser, who Elrond knew understood perfectly.

"Excellent. You are done, then?" Elrond nodded at the scroll he asked Erestor to review, which the chief counsellor handed over back to him. "Thank you. A pleasant day to you, my friends."

 

---

 

Erestor closed the door after Elrond.

"He gets much done, that one," he sighed. He tensed immediately as strong arms snaked around his waist and a hot breath brushed against the sensitive skin of his neck. He attempted to turn, but this only brought his face closer to that of the Elf behind him. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Just continuing where we left off earlier." Open-mouthed kisses were pressed and peppered along Erestor's skin, and he was pulled closer so his back was pressed against a hard chest.

He struggled against those arms. "We cannot, Glorfindel! Not after that when-- Elrond knows!"

"That was rather embarrassing, I admit, but he also just as good as gave his approval - on the condition, of course, that we do not compromise our work. Nor share offices, apparently."

"That is not-- I do not think I am comfortable with Elrond thinking that way about-- about us."

"Even if it is true?"

Hands began to stray, caressing up Erestor's torso, fingers spreading across and around his neck, pulling his head back for more kisses to his neck and shoulder, even up to the back of his ears. Erestor's eyes fell closed at a gasp as those lips found a tender spot, and he could not help the moan that escaped him when he felt a tongue run firmly across his skin.

Still.

"Especially," he insisted, though it, like his struggling, was half-hearted at best, "because it is not true."

"Valar, you are such a liar."

Without warning, Glorfindel turned him sharply and pressed him back against the door. The movement was not quiet, as in the next move he also had Erestor's wrists up and pinned to the wood, his knuckles and rings of office hitting the hard surface.

"Glorfindel!"

"Erestor, come on." Glorfindel's mouth hovered so close to Erestor's, it was maddening, and it did not help at all that the captain had their fingers now entwined. "This has gone on for far too long. You cannot just end it now - not when it has barely begun, and not when I have been wanting this for months!"

That heated mouth finally closed down upon his own, lips soft still from those first frenzied kisses they shared before Elrond knocked on their door. Erestor could not even remember how it happened, only that they fought again after weeks of tense silence. Before he knew it, Glorfindel was upon him, as forceful and demanding as he was being now.

Erestor found a break somewhere in the third - or was it fifth? - kiss. Though slightly dazed, he narrowed his eyes at the taller Elf. "Wait. Months?"

Glorfindel shrugged, still pinning him to the door. "Maybe fourteen now, give or take."

"Is that not only shortly after you... but then why only now, and why in Arda did you give me such a hard time!"

Glorfindel huffed out an exasperated sigh. He pressed his forehead against Erestor's brows, bringing their hands down and wrapping the counsellor's arms around his own waist.

"Because you were arrogant," he said. He kissed away whatever insult was conveyed by his words, lips softly closing around Erestor's. "You judged me for my fame before we were even introduced and treated me harshly though I did not understand why. It was unfair..." a kiss, soft and seductive, "immature..." another kiss, "and terribly heartless of you. Mandos, you were so annoying, I had no choice but to retaliate and defend myself.

"Oh, but Erestor, this - sharing a room with you, seeing you even when I try not to think about you, your scent straying even there where I attempt to work..." Those lips swept down again to engage Erestor's in a heated kiss. "Valar, I cannot take it. Please, could you just, for a moment, stop being so damned difficult, and just look at me." A long, lingering kiss. "Acknowledge this. Please."

"I--" Erestor swallowed through his own shock, for certainly Glorfindel cannot be saying what Erestor thought he was saying. Those arms tightened around him though, that the words were out even before he could think twice about them. "I thought it was just me," he confessed, turning away, "I did not want you to think that I... I sought to hide, for when I saw you that first time, I-I..."

"I know," said Glorfindel, sighing as though in relief, for finally it was said between them. He claimed yet another kiss. "You blind, insufferable Elf, I know. I felt you, too."

 

---

 

Outside, Elrond was already a good distance from the door when he heard that first 'thud'. It sounded as if something hit the wood; he heard muffled hissing and then... silence.

The Half-Elven lord heaved an exasperated sigh, having a good idea of what is going on behind that door. He regretted there were things he had to fix - public opinion and proper decorum among senior officers were, after all, of grave import - but such things were easily taken care of.

As for everything else? Valar, it was about damn time. He had about enough of old Elves acting like children, especially when it was clear to anyone who cared to notice that it was nothing more than pride getting in the way of souls meeting. The lack of offices for military officers might have been true enough, but the current set-up was not without his tweaking. After all, with more than a dozen councillors in his staff, what were the odds that those two, with their endless bickering, would room together?

Elrond fondly shook his head as he continued on his way. Idiots, the both of them.

Companion (G)

Erestor is set to sail with Elrond, but Glorfindel must stay with the twins.

Read Companion (G)

The Havens were nearly the same as many there remembered: the salty smell of the Sea, the ever-present call of gulls, the gentle breeze tirelessly blowing. All around them waves crashed against the walls of the humble port, once magnificent and great, now old and fading in the light of the afternoon Sun, like all of the other Elven realms.

In the middle of that busy port, near where the horses stood, Elrond Half-Elven was saying goodbye to his sons, their arms around one another in a tight embrace. A good distance behind them, allowing them their moment out of hearing range, stood their guardians, ever patient in their watch.

"Things with him are always bittersweet," said one - Erestor, Elrond's chief counsellor and oldest friend. "He sails and looks forward to seeing Celebrían, yet he leaves his children here. Not one sails with him."

"You will be with him," said the other - Glorfindel, who stood beside him. "He sails with family still, as you are the closest thing to a brother to him ever since Elros' passing. He considers you thus, I know."

"Or the closest thing to a father, as he so likes to jest," said Erestor in self-deprecating humour. "Aah, but finally he shall also meet your little Eärendil - only not so little now, not in a few millennia. There will be many happy reunions for Elrond. I hope they prove distracting well enough."

As it seemed that their charges would tarry a while, and as all around them people were still saying their farewells - Galadriel and Celeborn locked in an embrace on one side, even the brave Halflings standing in a circle a little further off in the distance - the two advisers turned to the Sea.

It seemed like a long time passed before either of them spoke again. The Sea was calm; its ebb and flow came in time with their breathing. It was good, for quiet moments were never uncomfortable between them, long companions that they were.

Glorfindel was the first to break the silence. "It will be a while."

"Aye," acknowledged Erestor beside him.

"Do you think it will span an age?"

"I hope not. I shall miss you."

And here, Glorfindel smiled. He was grateful for the words, for never had his heart been at peace ever since it was said that Elrond would sail, yet his sons would stay. Erestor ever went where Elrond willed, as he always had, but Glorfindel must stay with the twins, bound as he was to the line of Eärendil.

Even old as they were, with their "infinite wisdom" - as the Halflings often say - it still held true that one could easily take for granted what has always been there, and realise its worth only after it is later taken away. Even for one as old as he, Glorfindel was not without his foolish thoughts, one of which was that Erestor would always be beside him 'til it all ends.

It was never something they blatantly declared, nor was it ever planned. Yet somehow in the ages that passed, they grew accustomed to one another, each the other's constant through the changing times. Though it all began with a shared responsibility and love for their lord, it had not taken long until Glorfindel and Erestor forged their own friendship away from their lords and the courts in which they served.

Whether this grew to something more, Glorfindel could not, for certain, tell. He had always thought it did, and thought that something would happen to prove this in time. Never did he imagine that his story with Erestor would ever include a parting like this, literally now a world apart since the Sundering.

With his heart thus troubled, perhaps he was not fully conscious when he asked: "Erestor, will you wait for me?"

In his peripheral view, he knew Erestor looked at him. But his own mind was filled with troubling thoughts, so much so that he did not even have the faculties to worry about how Erestor could take such words. For some reason, thoughts of Erestor meeting him in the shores of Aman came unbidden. What if Erestor does not come alone? What if another would stand by him, having taken Glorfindel's place, for it was never said between them that one held exclusive claim over the other? A thousand years was a long time to wait.

They never talked about it, but here in Middle-Earth, they knew somehow that they were first in each other's minds, first to be sought after any long partings, be it after Glorfindel had ridden off to battle or after Erestor's longer stays in Lothlórien or the Green Wood. They drew comfort this way, seeking each other out, but despite what the rumours say, it was never anything other than long walks and long conversations, the occasional games of chess, and maybe silly drinking games when they retired together after having shared the company of other residents of the Valley.

If anyone were to ask him, Glorfindel would not be able to adequately explain how it was that evenings spent with nothing but stories, a bottle of wine, and the two of them in Erestor's balcony under the cool moonlight - as they tended to do most nights - could ever rival the company of bards and minstrels in the Hall of Fire, or even nights spent with potential lovers who would only be all too willing if Glorfindel were to seek them.

It was therefore with an unprecedented degree of relief that he smiled when Erestor replied: "I will wait for you, Glorfindel."

His place thus secured, Glorfindel's heart lightened - not fully, but enough. "When I come, may I stay at your place?" he asked with a grin, which Erestor returned with a modest shrug.

"I could build you your own room, if you wish."

And again, a risk, for it seemed Glorfindel kept taking them today: "I hope that won't be necessary."

It was Erestor who smiled then, gentle and kind, and Glorfindel was struck by how long he would be without that smile. The ache in his chest grew until it was pushing up his throat and he thought he would choke.

Too soon, they were calling them, all those who would sail. Erestor turned to look at the ship that would bear him away from Glorfindel, and Glorfindel thought he never saw his friend more beautiful than he was then. Turned away from him and facing the setting Sun, his hair swaying around him in the Sea breeze, he looked suddenly, unjustly lonely. Glorfindel wondered if Erestor's thoughts were similar to his own, counting the many seasons that shall pass without his constant companion by his side.

With a resigned sigh, Erestor smiled up at Glorfindel. He then turned away from him and began his walk toward the ships.

"Erestor, wait!"

Before he realised what he was doing, Glorfindel had taken Erestor's hand, pulling him so he would turn to face him. He then caught that slender figure in his embrace, his free hand coming up to caress one pale cheek, before he was leaning in for that first kiss.

To say that he never thought about kissing Erestor would be a lie. Such thoughts, however, for a long time, he had only considered as indulgent fantasies, fanciful imaginings that bit him on a whim. His mind never lingered on such things, for worse than not being able to kiss Erestor would be the thought of offending him or causing disrespect. Glorfindel never thought to take liberties with Erestor, save now when it seemed as if this chance would be his last for years uncounted.

Yet the moment their lips touched, Glorfindel immediately regretted not being braver sooner. Erestor's arms were around his neck and those lips were the sweetest thing the reborn lord had ever tasted. Beginning soft and tentative, soon centuries of familiarity kicked in, and somehow Glorfindel knew how to deepen their kiss, to close his lips around Erestor's and taste him on his tongue over and over in a way he knew the other would enjoy. He held the sides of that face tenderly, fingers brushing neck and hair, tilting it so he could kiss him more, inscribe it all in his memory, for there shall not be another one of this in who knew how many centuries.

When they parted, both were out of breath. But they did not stray far, so that after only catching a glimpse of that dazed look in Erestor's eyes, that adorable blush, Glorfindel could so easily steal a kiss - which he did. "In case..." he said when their lips parted again, still out of breath. "In case I did not make it clear enough."

Erestor laughed, his breath warm and tingling against Glorfindel's lips. "Unnecessary," he said with a wide smile, "but not unwanted."

Glorfindel would have been content to stand there with him until Eru himself stood before them declaring the end of Arda, but alas, it was only the ships again - the captain's shrill whistle - that broke the moment and caused Erestor to step away again.

Valar, how could he go? Glorfindel watched, suddenly cold without that soothing presence in his arms, as Erestor left him. He had to rein himself to keep from calling him back again. Yet he knew what duties meant, and Erestor cannot stay any more than Glorfindel could go. Such was their way, and it appeared that not even earth-shattering kisses nor a soldier's broken heart could ever change that.

All too soon, they were lifting the ramps, pulling in the wood planks that connected the ships to the port. Glorfindel stood there, unmoving. His heart was in that ship; they were raising its anchors, and it was about to leave.

"Come, my friend," said a voice behind him as a hand settled on his shoulder. Glorfindel turned; it was Elladan. "It does not make it easier watching them leave."

And they really did leave, thought Glorfindel, the realisation now sinking in. The ship was leaving and Erestor would no longer come home to Imladris. He had said his goodbyes to the valley, with Glorfindel even by his side when he did, and just now, he had said his goodbyes to Glorfindel.

He had not realised he was crying until they heard a commotion from one of the ships and Glorfindel turned to look, only to find his vision blurred. He therefore recognised them a little later than everyone else, but sure enough there was Elrond and Erestor in a... well, scuffle was the only word for it, really.

"It is Valinor! What do you expect would happen to me there?"

It was Elrond certainly enough, and he was pulling a shocked-looking Erestor behind him by the wrist. Somehow, the Half-Elven lord had the ramp brought down again on the port, and they were crossing it back to stone grounds.

"Glorfindel!" yelled his former lord, loudly above the gulls and the waves and the blood rushing through Glorfindel's ears. "Take him! I don't need him anymore!"

He then pushed Erestor none too gently into Glorfindel's chest and waiting arms. For someone so poised and well-respected back in Imladris, Elrond now ran back to the ship as though he no longer cared about decorum. Well, it was no secret that their lord looked forward to seeing his wife again, but this certainly proved it. Faster than they could all realise what had happened, the ship began to sail once more, as though it had not just ejected one of its passengers.

Erestor's eyes were wide still in disbelief as he watched his ship sail without him. "That ungrateful brat!"

Glorfindel laughed, and maybe also cried a little. He was also not so sure if he just imagined Bilbo laughing somewhere in that ship, or whether Círdan truly hid a smile as he stood at the edge of the port, calling the winds back into those sails.

But none of it mattered, not to Glorfindel, because Erestor was in his arms, and the new age suddenly seemed brighter.

Barter (PG13)

Erestor wants those rare tarts made of fruits from the South, but Glorfindel already claimed the last of them.

Read Barter (PG13)

"Terribly sorry, m'lord," said the kindly elleth in her thick accent, a Silvan Elf from old Ossiriand. "We have made the last of the tarts, and so many have asked for them that they are gone nearly 'soon as they're made. We do not get many things from the South, mind, and fruits grow so sweet there, don't they? Must be some magic in those lands, eh? Like in Lórien."

"Or just a different climate," Erestor said before he could stop himself. Had Elrond been there beside him, he knew his lord would have given him a disapproving glare, probably elbowed him to boot. Still, he was not in the best of moods, having been delayed too long at work. He had been looking forward to those tarts, which would have been his reward after a long day.

Fortunately, the quip was lost on the girl, who still looked up at him with sympathy.

"I know you like them, Lord Erestor, and I am sorry they are gone," she said. All of a sudden, however, her face brightened. "Oh, but you are friends with Lord Glorfindel, yes? He took the last of 'em. Took to the gardens, he did, so if you go now, he could still have some left."

Erestor supposed that was the most promising thing he could get from the kitchens. He excused himself from the elleth and thanked her for her time. She waved him off excitedly and gestured again to the direction of the gardens.

He found Glorfindel immediately, sitting under a tree. He painted a handsome picture to be sure, thought Erestor, if one were so inclined to such things. They were not quite friends, but perhaps a little more than mere colleagues. Theirs was a relationship that was... challenging to define. He would trust Glorfindel with his life, and though he would not admit it out loud even by threat of death, he was always relieved whenever he would learn that something of import was delegated to Glorfindel. The captain was able and competent, a pleasure to have at work and, if Erestor had observed him right, a true friend to many Elves. With Erestor, however...

Well, he supposed he was being unfair. They were friends, of a sort. They have known each other for a while now and have stood together with their lord during the worst of times. Certainly they could be better friends, thought Erestor, if only Glorfindel would act like a decent Elf whenever he was with him.

Or in another way of putting it: on the spectrum where friendship would be, given the way Glorfindel behaved with him, Erestor was not sure if they were less or more.

Glorfindel saw Erestor the moment he appeared under the doorway. A look of curiosity and a touch of delight lit up the reborn lord's face as he realised that the other was moving to approach him. He smiled in greeting. "Why, if it isn't my favourite Elf," he said as Erestor stopped a few paces from him. "Is there anything I can help you with, Master Erestor, or have you merely come to join me and brighten my day?"

Erestor sighed, steeling himself for what would surely be a trying encounter. "Lord Glorfindel," he said, nodding his head in greeting. "The lady in the kitchens said you have taken the last of the southern tarts. I was wondering if you would care to share any, if you still have them."

"Ah," said the captain, his eyes now falling to a plate on his far side. "I am afraid I have only one left. You should have come earlier."

Erestor sighed; indeed, he wished he had been faster. Still, one was left, and not all was lost. "If that is all that remains, then it will do. May I have it?"

At first Glorfindel was only too ready give it. Certainly, it was only a tart, and good though it may be, he had already eaten a few, and he knew Erestor enjoyed them much more than he did.

The moment that thought sank in, however, Glorfindel quickly changed his mind. His grin was filled with mischief as he looked back up at Erestor.

"What will you give in exchange for it?" he asked instead.

The chief counsellor folded his arms, immediately on the defence. "I had not expected that I needed to bribe you."

Glorfindel laughed. "I am glad you think so well of me, but alas, I am opportunistic just like any other creature of greed, and this is quite a valuable thing. Never had one like it in... almost a century now, was it not, since last we received traders from so far south?" They both knew it well; Erestor knew Glorfindel was only doing it to rile him. That cheeky grin was clue enough. "So I ask again, Counsellor: what would you give for it?"

A sigh. "That depends. What would you ask?"

"I did say I hoped you would brighten my day. Something entertaining perhaps?" Glorfindel paused in thought. His expression then quickly turned playful. "It is yours if you could take it from me using nothing but your mouth."

As expected, a dark eyebrow rose. Used to Glorfindel's bold manner of flirting, however - Valar, they have done this as far back as their years in the courts of Lindon, after all - unimpressed, Erestor only said, "Interesting. I am surprised you did not just ask for a kiss again outright."

Glorfindel smiled. "Ah. Tried that before, I am afraid, but it always seems to fail." It was baffling how one Elf could be so stubborn, thought Glorfindel. "Now, contrary to what you may think of me, my actions are not uncalculated, and I do learn my lessons. I figured that such a predictable challenge would have bored you and ridden me of your pleasant company, but what I suggested instead would have been new and odd enough to have you at least intrigued."

He nodded proudly at the fact that Erestor was still there in front of him, to which the adviser conceded with a shrug. Then, as an afterthought, Glorfindel said: "That is, unless you are saying that you would acquiesce to a kiss this time, in which case I change my terms."

Despite himself, Erestor's lips twitched in amusement at this Elf's bold candour. "Nay, my lord. You have made your bid and that is what I am considering."

Feigning great exasperation, Glorfindel rolled his eyes. But he had expected that answer. "Fair enough," he sighed. "So, what is your answer then? Decide quickly, please, for as time passes I am craving the taste of this exotic sweet again. I just might retract my offer."

He waved his hands at the tart as though it was for sale, so reminiscent of those pushy gypsy merchants that Erestor had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.

"You do realise that had I been any one of the more junior members of Elrond's staff, this sort of behaviour would have been unacceptable."

"Fortunately for us, I am not interested in any of our younger scribes, nor are you in any way my junior."

"That is yet to be determined," said Erestor. Long though they have known one another, they never quite reached a depth in conversation that would shed light to their far distant past, much less their true ages. Both considered it a shame, although for different reasons.

"Much as I am interested in your history, dear Erestor, that is a promising conversation that we must set at a later date. More pressing matters are at hand, after all."

Erestor sighed, thinking fast. He really wanted that tart.

"Very well," he said after a while. "I cannot think of anything else to exchange, and I do not have all day. I accept your terms."

He moved to sit beside Glorfindel on the grass, legs together and bent at the knees to one side underneath his robes. He smirked at the captain's look of surprise. "You think I would not? It is, as you said, a rare commodity, and I am rather fond of it. Ah, but if you were kinder and more honourable, you could just give it to me and I shall accept your charity."

That got the captain's attention. "Oh no, you are not getting out of it now," he said quickly. "You are ready? Just give me a moment."

Glorfindel took the tart, and it was Erestor's turn to be shocked as the golden-haired one placed the sweet between his lips and teeth. Half of it poked out toward Erestor, to which Glorfindel made a gesture of encouragement and welcome.

"Glorfindel, that is quite unfair!"

Glorfindel removed the tart just in time to laugh at Erestor's reaction. "Is it? The terms are to take it from me, was it not? Last time I checked, my mouth is still very much a part of me."

"You are a despicable cheat. Should you forward a request to set up a business, I will be sure to disapprove it," came the venomous reply, but again, Glorfindel merely laughed.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, love. Come on now, I will not bite... or I could, but no worries. I'll make sure you enjoy it." The cheeky thing even had the audacity to wink.

Erestor gave him a withering glare, but Glorfindel just smiled at him and placed the tart back between his teeth.

For a moment, Erestor seriously considered leaving this insufferable imp to his games. So much trouble - was it even worth it?

An eyebrow rose in challenge at him, however, and all of a sudden, it was not just about the tart.

Glorfindel stiffened, surprised, when a hand slid up his chest when he was not even expecting any contact at all. Whether or not Erestor noticed his reaction, Glorfindel could not tell, for the adviser's other hand had moved to rest against the tree just beside his head. Erestor then began to lean in - oh, so slowly.

He hovered above Glorfindel now, casting the other in his shadow. His lips parted, partially, revealing only a glimpse of white teeth. Glorfindel's breath quickened at the heat that suddenly seemed to descend between them, but again Erestor was unfazed. His eyes were focused on Glorfindel's lips - the tart between them, rather - and the captain only had a moment to admire those thick black lashes before the hand on his chest lifted to tilt his chin up. Their gazes met briefly, and he thought he saw amusement in those dark eyes before they lowered once again to his mouth. Erestor moved again just a tiny bit closer.

Valar, it was so much like a prelude to a kiss that Glorfindel's fingers curled and buried themselves on the grass, anticipating something that was not even likely to come. Without hint or warning, Erestor's lips was upon his - no, around that tart, but bold enough to brush briefly against his own, as though he did not even care enough to avoid them. Glorfindel's lips tingled where they touched that he almost bit down accidentally on the tart, but Erestor's thumb brushed lightly against his chin, reminding him to let go.

And just like that, he was gone. The chill air of dusk was a shock to Glorfindel's senses as it replaced that intoxicating warmth. He blinked himself back to conscious thought and looked up at Erestor, who smirked before popping his prize inside his mouth.

"A pleasure doing business with you, Captain," he said and delicately licked at a finger. The brief glimpse of a tongue had Glorfindel licking his still tingling lips, but before he could say anything - or pull Erestor on his lap, Valar, he did not know - the chief counsellor had already stood and was walking back to the house.

Thus Glorfindel was left there, confused and helplessly aroused, as he watched the bane of his private life walking away, testing him further with a view of graceful movements and a most delectable backside. He sighed, head falling back with a satisfying sound against the tree trunk. Yet... he could not help but grin. There were butterflies in his stomach and he felt light-headed.

Another failed kiss, he thought. Definitely the farthest he had ever been, though. Surely, it was progress?

Reunion (G)

Partings are never easy, and we each cope in our own way.

To msgeekstyle, as a thank you for giving the lovely prompt. 

Read Reunion (G)

Dear Glorfindel,

You were right; Aman is a strange land.

Yes, I know you did not say it like that. Your phrasing was longer and more diplomatic than mine. I never understood that, your preference for benevolent phrasing even though no one else would hear you.

Well... I suppose I do know. You were always the kinder one.

Erestor

 

---

 

Dear Glorfindel,

It is silly, I know. The last letter is in my drawer still, and you remain in Middle-Earth.

I do not really know what I am doing.

 

---

 

Dear Glorfindel,

Do you remember that conversation we had sometime ago, about the kind of place in which we said we wished to dwell? I said it first, that I have always wanted to live in a structure that I built completely with my own hands. In turn, you said you have always pictured a cottage for yourself. Your ideas you then generously shared with me - for what else could I build on my own, you said, but a small structure such as a cottage?

Today, I have completed what I said I would one day achieve. I do not claim it is perfect, but is adequate for my needs. I have paid tribute to your role as the proponent of this idea by building that reading nook you mentioned you wanted, by the southern window, as was your preference. You are, of course, free to come whenever you wish.

Erestor

 

---

 

Dear Glorfindel,

I thought I was ready to sail. 
Winter can grow bitter even here. Strange, that. By my observation, the winters grow colder with each year that passes.

 

---

 

Dear Glorfindel,

The truth is most days are difficult. I live apart from the rest, although I did notice that many of the Noldor seem to share the same sentiment. Too long have we lived in Middle-Earth, I suppose, that it takes a while to settle here in Aman. It is indeed beautiful, but at the risk of sounding foolish and ungrateful, sometimes I find offense in the clear skies, or even the fresh winds that smell ever of the Sea.

It is silly, I know, to miss the smell of smoke, of the cedar we burned at the great hearth back in the Homely House. I remember we used to frequent the Hall of Fire, and I miss it. I even miss that strange ale you keep getting from Bree. You were always so easily pleased, one would not think you were of high birth at all. Still, I just kept going along with what you wished - bad alcohol and all.

It feels like so much of me is left there still. I find I miss all these things. I miss even you.

 

---

 

Dear Glorfindel,

I do not think I have ever told you this - and why would I, when you would only think me odd - but I thought you always brought with you the comforting scent of smoke. Ah, you see why I cannot tell you; it sounds morbid even in writing. Few know how poorly you fair in the cold, but I can always trust that you could be found in front of flames, be it back in the Hall of Fire, on patrols when you can afford it (and so you smell most strongly of smoke every time I greet you after long partings), or even by your ever-burning hearth. But unfortunately, as far as you and fires go, the first that would come to people's minds would still be that story with you and the Balrog.

To this, however, I take offense. No creature of Melkor ought to claim exclusivity to such things, for whatever his will had been, fire eventually did become a thing of beauty in the end. I like to think that this is how we win against them, by finding beauty and joy in even the Arda he marred. My memories of flames are not without evil; I have seen far too many wars and kingdoms falling to forget what destruction it can wreak. But on the other hand, my most peaceful memories were also in front of fires: my mother singing her lullabies, Celebrían holding the twins for the first time, you and I playing chess by fire light.

So well did I treasure those nights with you that I did not even mind when you beat me more than half the time. How can I feel bitter in loss, after all, when my consolation was you smiling with open pride, with your hair shining brightest in the golden light?

 

---

 

Dear Glorfindel,

There were times back in Middle-Earth when I wondered if you thought the same of me as I thought of you.

I wish you had given me clues.

 

---

 

I think I have loved you for a long time now, only I never gave it a name. I wonder if you ever knew. Or perhaps you did know, and still you

Some days are worse than others. I wonder more often than not if coming here was a mistake.

Sometimes I still think of you fondly. Most days, however, I wish I could just forget. This way, I would not waste my time wondering if the fault was yours, or whether (as I am now beginning to believe) it is mine.

 

---

 

Dear Glorfindel,

It has been a while.

I heard that ships are coming today. In those first few seasons upon our landing, I could not help but listen to news of ships coming. I suppose I had hoped then that you would change your mind. But the years passed, and while each ship bore familiar faces, none of them were ever yours. I soon grew tired of hoping.

Well. I say I grew tired, but then I began writing you letters. We truly become quite the fools when it is the heart that asserts itself and makes itself known.

I do not hold it against you, of course. I had no claim to you, and your duty was ever with the Peredhel. While I like to think you did return some of my regard, the truth remains that neither of us said nor did anything. We let time pass walking side by side, but at a crucial crossroad, we did choose to part all the same.

I suppose it is best that I remember this, for I feel I shall see you soon. While some things became clear to me writing to you all this time, I cannot hope you have done the same, and so you must be the same as you have always been.

 

---

 

Erestor,

I was told that this is the correct house.

I do not live far from here. How come I have not seen you? Let us meet.

Yours,
Glorfindel

 

---

 

Erestor,

You would think I was writing to an empty house, so often have I written to you with no reply, but I saw smoke when I passed by earlier and I knew you were home. I also know this is your house - that is, unless somebody had been eavesdropping all those years ago and stole all my ideas.

Yours,
Glorfindel

 

---

 

Dearest Erestor,

With all whom I have reunited with here in Valinor, it is a wonder that I am yet to see the one I missed the most.

Did you know, so mad have I become due to your silence that I even asked around if you somehow got married in my absence? I have begun to think the worst of things, and even began to believe that there is another beside you now, for why else would you hide from me?

Of course, they told me that your were not bound and that you live alone. Then, is it that your heart had grown cold to me, and you wish to see me no more? I had hoped that nothing has changed, but perhaps such things can happen even here in fair Valinor.

But mercy, I beg you. Speak to me and let me see you. If you think to spare me from the pain of hearing what news you bring, then I tell you that your silence hurts me infinitely more.

Desperately yours,
Glorfindel

 

---

 

Dear Glorfindel,

How silly of you to assume that I knew your heart and mind when it comes to this. How you even came to have such faith and certainty, and how you thought that we would "continue where we were heading before in Imladris" upon our reunion, I do not know. I suppose this just means that even in things like optimism, you are still the better one of us, and you saw things between us while I had been the blind fool.

Well, no matter. I do not know the point of this letter. I do not even know if I write this for you to read. But you have read the others, and I hope that at least

 

Dearest Erestor,

While I thoroughly enjoyed and was comforted by your letters (most of them anyway), I am afraid you have developed a bad habit. Have you always written them this late at night?

Please come to bed. It is cold without you, and I have been so for far too long.

Love,
Glorfindel

P. S.
By the way, what you wrote in those letters - it is not about the fire, you know. I only craved its warmth, for I imagined it is what it must be like to have you in my arms.

Jealousy (G)

They say he and Erestor were old friends from back in Nargothrond. Well, good for them; that still does not mean that Glorfindel had to like Gildor.

Read Jealousy (G)

He was told that they were old friends from Nargothrond. The closest of friends, Lindir even said, and with great emphasis, as though he meant for Glorfindel to glean more in this statement than what had just been said.

Lindir had been a tad insufferable lately with all the elbowing and the pointing and the commenting about how "wonderfully talented Gildor is and does he not look good beside Erestor, Glorfindel?" Truth be told, nowadays, all Glorfindel wanted to do every time he heard Gildor's name was to take up his sword and politely request the next available soldier to spar with him.

Yes, Gildor was awfully talented with the lute, and yes, perhaps he might just be the most skillful singer this side of the Sundering Sea. Glorfindel had been surprised about the enthusiastic welcome with which the wandering company was met when they arrived in Imladris, until he heard that they were mostly musicians and storytellers. Such things were indeed usually met with great joy. The greater surprise to Glorfindel, however, was to learn that their leader, Gildor Inglorion, and the Chief Counsellor Erestor were long-time friends, fellow lords in old Nargothrond, an acquaintance deep and comfortable enough for favours to be demanded.

The first time Glorfindel heard Gildor sing, therefore, was when he was half of a duet, the other half of which was Erestor, whom the old bard pulled out of the crowd for the impromptu performance. Erestor naturally fought him at first, but with naught but a whispered word in the chief counsellor's ear, Gildor had Erestor begrudgingly seated beside himself.

Glorfindel had initially been distracted by that exchange. He thought his face grew hot and there was an odd tingling at the roots of his hair as he watched Gildor whispering in Erestor's ear. He knew not what secret message Gildor had said, for he himself could not think of any secrets he knew of Erestor that could be used as leverage to gain such favours.

But all notions of curiosity flew out the window the moment he heard Erestor sing. He had a deep, melodic voice that made Glorfindel's chest swell, made him want to move closer and sit himself at his friend's feet, listening with delight and letting that sweet voice carry him to a sea of peace. For having witnessed something so rare - the stoic chief counsellor making merry and singing with the bards was not something they saw everyday - Glorfindel almost forgave Gildor for his impertinence and his complete monopoly of Erestor ever since his arrival.

After all, it was... just maybe this that was the reason why Glorfindel gradually grew to dislike Gildor. His habit of talking with Erestor and dragging him to private corners of the gardens, even inadvertently taking Glorfindel's usual seat in the dining table in his enthusiasm to continue a story he had been telling Erestor prior to the meal time bell - it was all becoming... inconvenient, especially for an Elf of habit such as Glorfindel. Gildor disrupted a steady schedule of meal times shared together, of drinks and chess games that were never formally agreed upon yet happened quite regularly anyway, nearly every evening.

Glorfindel had come to regard Erestor as his closest friend in his new life in Middle-Earth. The counsellor was delightful company, knowledgeable both of the new world as well as the old ways, and so served as the most needed bridge for Glorfindel to find his footing in his new life. He even knew how to speak the language of Valinor and indulged Glorfindel in private, conversing with him in his dearly missed Quenya. He had also guessed his old name, and it became Glorfindel's surprising and secret delight to hear it, though he never introduced himself as such anymore, had not for a very long time. It was enough that Erestor knew.

Erestor was comforting company, though these days, he was not as available as he used to be. That was all it was, really.

"Glorfindel, my good captain," said Lindir beside him before nudging his arm. Glorfindel ended up seated beside him that evening, as he was late in coming at the dinner table and his seat was, as usual, already occupied. "If I could interrupt your sulking for a moment, might I have that beautiful piece of pie that you are cruelly ignoring in favour of stabbing our esteemed guest with your eyes?"

Having grown tired of Lindir's teasing, Glorfindel pushed the plate toward the Sinda without a word. It was not that he felt suddenly self-conscious after Lindir's comment, but he just did a quick check and made sure to school his face in an expression of indifference.

Perhaps that was fortunate, as it was when he shifted his eyes back to the other table that he caught Erestor looking at him. When their eyes met, the counsellor smiled at him and raised his hand in a subtle wave before his attention was taken again by someone from his table. Oddly enough, when Erestor was no longer looking, it was Gildor who then turned to Glorfindel - and winked at him, before placing an arm around Erestor's shoulder.

Valar, what in the world did that even mean? He was insufferable.

Glorfindel heard a snicker somewhere beside him. He turned to Lindir. "What?" he finally asked him.

"Glorfindel, you are such a child. You miss him. Why not just join them? Or do more, actually, if you ever felt like it." Lindir's eyes were on the other table, spying on whatever it was that they were doing.

"I do not know what you are talking about," the captain quickly denied. "Besides I... it is good for them, is it not? Catching up, I mean. Did you not say they were good friends?"

Lindir suddenly had a pained look on his face. "I did not tell you that so you would stay away." He beckoned Glorfindel closer, and then lowered his voice as he said, "I hear they were almost more than friends in Nargothrond. You know what they say about the wisdom of Lord Finrod and how he was such a forward-thinker. Such things were rare in the First Age, yes, but if it could happen, it would be in Nargothrond, don't you think?"

Lindir sat back and looked at Glorfindel expectantly. Glorfindel, not wishing to voice the thought that entered his mind at Lindir's claim, just stared at him blankly. Lindir sighed. "Courtship, Glorfindel. They were courting."

"But--" He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "They are both males."

In a span of a moment, nearly but a blink of an eye, Lindir looked confused, annoyed, and dismayed in rapid succession. He also looked like he wanted to say something, but he just sighed dramatically and said, "You are an idiot."

Needless to say, Glorfindel stopped speaking to Lindir that evening.

 

---

 

"He ought to leave him alone every now and then," he told Elrond one day. From the Half-Elf's window, he could see Gildor and Erestor in the gardens, deep in conversation. "Erestor must be tired with so much of his time spent in the company of another."

"Was it not that you two used to spend every evening together until the wee hours of the morning?" came the calm response from his lord's desk. It did not even seem as if Elrond stopped writing. "If Erestor begrudged the company of a..." Elrond looked at Glorfindel briefly, before looking back down at his desk, "close friend who demands his time - which he does not - I believe I ought to reprimand you first, in that case. Only then would I move on to Gildor."

"That is different," protested Glorfindel. "I asked only for his free time. I would have gladly allowed it if he told me he was busy or wished to rest." Well, perhaps not too gladly, but... "I also do not drag him about the way Gildor does. It is rude to impose one's self so much on another, but Erestor is too polite to say so."

"He and Gildor are good friends," retorted Elrond. "I do not think he considers Gildor's presence to be too much of an imposition."

"Gildor monopolises his time these days. Erestor must hardly get any work done. He usually does not like that."

"Oh? This is news to me, as I do not see any difference in the reports he sends me." Elrond stopped writing and smiled up at Glorfindel. He looked far too amused given the topic of conversation. "Glorfindel, interesting as all these may be, I am truly too busy for the jealous complaints of my captain. If you have a problem, please discuss it with Erestor."

"I am not jealous," he quickly said. "Why does everybody think this? I am not interested in Erestor that way."

"Oh?" said his lord, feigning shock. "Why, this is news to me once again. Are you certain?"

 

---

 

Elrond was a fool.

Elrond, and Lindir, and the serving maid who caught him looking at Erestor at luncheon and proceeded to serve him an extra bowl of custard with what he now understood as pity in her eyes, and even Galadir, his second-in-command, who told him he would gladly have his back if he ever cared to call a duel with anyone in the valley--

Fools, all of them!

He disliked Gildor, yes, but that did not mean that it was all due to Erestor. Glorfindel had never thought it right to look at another ellon that way, not with how Gondolin had been, but Erestor... well, if it was true that Erestor did, then... well, it should still not be with Gildor. For one, Gildor was loud and obnoxious, more suited for taverns among Men and Dwarves. Erestor deserved better things. If anything, Glorfindel admired Erestor for even tolerating the bard's company, for the chief counsellor was elegant and more suited for quiet evenings and slow walks under Ithil's light. And the way he always--

"Ah, excuse me!"

The sudden crash brought an end to Glorfindel's thoughts. What he had instead was an armful of another Elf, whom Glorfindel had crashed into when he sharply turned the corner. He was only able to briefly appreciate the feeling of smooth hair between his fingers and the faint scent of tea and jasmines before the other was jumping out of his grasp.

"Glorfindel? What are you doing, thundering about the hallway?"

Glorfindel stared at the other Elf in shock. "Erestor?" Valar, what... "I was not..."

Oh, he could not speak. How could he? Erestor looked... different today, and Glorfindel could not help but stare. He supposed he had always found Erestor's features striking - handsome in the conventional sense, yes, but also more, the kind that became even more attractive as time passed - and now he even looked more so. Erestor's hair, which he usually kept in a single, practical braid behind his back, now fell in a shining, soft-looking cascade down his back, and spilling a little over one shoulder from the crash. There were a few braids in there, looped elegantly together from near his ears to the back of his head - purely ornamental, for strands of hair still softly framed his face, a few locks even falling over one of his eyes.

Apart from the hair, Erestor also wore a different set of robes. It was in black and gold, colours that were not far from Erestor's usual, but not as thick, nor so full of layers. It covered him from the high neck down to his slippered feet, but also hugged him in places where... somehow Glorfindel felt warm still at the sight of him thus clothed. The sleeves fell at the back of his hand, accenting those long fingers, but loose enough to give a glimpse of pale wrists. The cut also brought attention to his wide shoulders, his defined chest and flat abdomen, the slim, slight curve of his waist, to which Glorfindel's eyes were inexplicably drawn. Eventually, he did draw his gaze away enough to even appreciate how the robe fell straight to Erestor's feet, made his height seem more pronounced, even if he still stood half a head shorter than Glorfindel.

Finally, his gaze lifted and he did meet Erestor's eyes again. The other had a dark eyebrow raised.

"I was not thundering," Glorfindel finished weakly.

"You could have fooled me." Despite the chiding tone, there was some amusement there, so Glorfindel knew he was in no trouble.

"You look different," he said. He thought he might as well mention it, given how much it was distracting him. Because it is so out of the ordinary, he thought to add in his head.

Erestor promptly winced. "Yes, I know. I--" He looked down at himself, suddenly almost... shy? One hand played with the edge of his sleeve. "I feel a bit ridiculous, honestly. I have seen far too many ages to be doing something so childish."

"What is childish?"

Erestor looked up at him and sighed. "Dressing up?" he admitted. "It has been a while for me." His voice even came out hesitant, and Glorfindel could not help the smile that came to his lips.

"Oh, my friend. We all have the right to do so every once in a while," he said kindly. "Besides, it suits you. May I ask for the occasion, though?"

If anything, Erestor looked even more embarrassed, and there was an endeari--wholly alien blush on his sharp cheekbones. "You see, it is..." He rubbed the back of his neck, a self-conscious gesture, and he took so long in considering his words that Glorfindel thought he would not bother explaining it at all in the end. Eventually, however, Erestor did sigh, and said, "It is Gildor."

And just like that, the smile dropped instantly from Glorfindel's face, and he wished to listen no more. There was a sudden rush of heat and wind in his face and ears, and all he could think about was Lindir's words. "Courting" - was that what he called it? It must be true, then, however little it made sense in his head.

Glorfindel just stared at Erestor. He looked... wonderful, really. Breath-taking, if Glorfindel wished to be more apt. Even exquisite. For Erestor to be inspired enough to present himself in beauty beyond what he usually exuded anyway every day - Glorfindel could no longer deny the longing in his veins... and the bitterness and anger that coursed along with it.

"Glorfindel? Are you all right?"

"He is lucky," was what Glorfindel intended to say - something, at least, that would be a compliment for Erestor. Instead, he heard himself saying, "What do you see in him?"

Erestor's look of surprise must surely be mirrored on Glorfindel's face. "Pardon?"

Glorfindel, though, only found himself continuing to say, "He must have his good qualities, I am sure, but any person with eyes would know that you do not suit." Valar, it felt like floodgates opening. "He wanders and shall be gone again, while you love the walls and security of this house in the valley. You deserve someone who would stay by your side. He is loud and makes you drink, even though you never enjoyed such things unless there is good conversation or a worthy challenge to your mind, such as a game of strategy or some similar thing. The only thing he ever did right was to make you sing, but then such things are not worth it if you do not find much joy in them."

Valar, stop. He needed to stop. How does one stop this?

"What in Arda are you talking about?" Erestor looked confused for a moment, and then looked as though something dawned on him. "Oh, Glorfindel. Have you been listening to those rumours? They are not true, and I only meant that this was Gildor's idea and his handiwork." The counsellor gestured vaguely at his hair and the rest of himself. "I did not mean to say I did it for him."

"Oh," said Glorfindel, suddenly deflating. He had his mind set on Gildor. "Then, why...?"

"He somehow talked me into this... thing and told me to..." Erestor hesitated and even looked almost embarrassed again. The expression was mixed with irritation though this time. "No, never mind. Let me find that fool of a bard so I can tell him this was a bad idea."

"What do you mean?" asked Glorfindel even as Erestor turned to walk away.

Erestor turned back to look at him over his shoulder. Glorfindel could not help but notice the way his hair swayed with the movement. "Gildor is insisting that I should put myself out of my misery and just make my... love confession, or whatever he called it. Get it over with, he said. And then he proceeded to do... all this."

Whatever relief - for it had been relief, he could no longer deny it - Glorfindel felt at Erestor's denial of any romantic connection with Gildor quickly died in the face of this new revelation. 'Love confession?' he thought, distressed. There was yet another sinking feeling in his chest. 'There is another? Valar, how many Elves must one contend with?'

"I did not know you were in love. You never mentioned it." He tried to smile as he said it. It was proving difficult.

Fortunately, Erestor did not seem to notice his struggle, for he turned to face Glorfindel fully again, expressing his own distress. "Of course I would not mention it! It is silly and childish and there is no hope for it. He does not even-- I do not even know why I went along with--" Erestor cut himself off and just sighed harshly. "Please, Glorfindel. Let me go. The longer this foolishness extends, the harder the surface to which I wish to shove Gildor's head."

Erestor turned to stalk away again, his robes billowing in the breeze that streamed through the open hallway. Again, that subtle hint of jasmine - from his hair, Glorfindel realised - wafted past, and Glorfindel could not help but speak again.

"For what it is worth," he called out, making Erestor stop again in his tracks, turning around. "I think it is shame. You look lovely, Erestor. It is not that you do not look good on most days, but you have also obviously put an effort on it today, and this is the best I have seen you since our meeting. Fortunate is the one who could inspire you to be the way you are now. Whatever comes of it, I hope it would not be the last that I see you like this. It would be nice, you know? From time to time."

Erestor looked at him for such a long time that Glorfindel had to duck his head. Well, he supposed there were better ways to reveal one's self to an admired other - certainly not right after one has learned of the other's love toward someone else.

"I shall keep that in mind," he heard Erestor say before the sound of footsteps reached his ears again.

Glorfindel looked up and watched him go, silently letting out a wistful sigh. Erestor looked good even from behind, his hair flowing down like softest silk, and the shape of him, from shoulder to hip to--

Erestor suddenly stopped mid-stride, and for a moment Glorfindel tensed, thinking he had been caught looking. But Erestor only seemed distracted when he turned.

"Glorfindel," he said. "If you are not doing anything tonight, I would like to seek your company for the evening."

"You know I am usually free in the evenings, Erestor," Glorfindel said. "I usually spend them with you, after all. Why such formality?"

Erestor's eyes briefly lifted, which Glorfindel recognised as his way of gathering patience when faced with someone particularly slow. He was almost offended, except he truly was confused.

"Never mind that. Please come to my rooms. I will have dinner ready. I know it is earlier than when we usually meet, but..." Erestor trailed off, and just took a deep breath. "Just please come."

He turned away again and began walking.

"Wait!" Glorfindel waited until Erestor had turned back to him. Again. "What about your confession?" he asked.

Erestor regarded Glorfindel with a partly exasperated expression. He looked displeased, and he folded his arms in front of him. "Cannot wait for tonight, Laurefindil?"

For some reason, the old name caused Glorfindel to blush. "What?"

"If you are done ruining my plans, please excuse me while I hyperventilate in the gardens."

"What?"

"I have a wandering bard to slay, I said."

Despite himself, a huff of surprised laughter escaped Glorfindel. "You did not even bother making those two things rhyme."

Erestor sighed. "Glorfindel. This has been a most stressful encounter, for while I had my mind set on telling Gildor what a fool he is, I still somehow find myself trudging along on his ridiculous suggestion. Now, if you do not mind, I shall take my leave, so that I have some hope of being presentable for my engagement this evening."

Glorfindel wanted to tell him he looked presentable just as he was now, that he had always been wonderful, even before all this. Oddly, he also wanted to apologise, for it was now only slowly beginning to dawn on him what it all meant - Lindir's hints (and white lies, for he might even just be the source of that rumour in the first place), everyone else's behaviour, even Gildor pulling Erestor every time Glorfindel approached and taunting him with those looks. Aiya, he had been a fool.

Oh, but then - dinner. In Erestor's rooms, with him looking the way he did. And if Glorfindel understood this exchange right, Erestor did this for no other than...

He never knew excitement like this. For a moment, he also knew a hint of fear, for although he had some inkling of his own inclinations long ago, he never thought he could find happiness in it, or even hoped to find someone who would be the same. He was no longer in Gondolin, though, and there was indeed someone, and he was wonderful, and beautiful, and intelligent, the one person Glorfindel had been drawn to from the moment he stepped foot once again in Middle-Earth.

He was also the same person who was now marring his handsome face with a pained expression as he waited for Glorfindel.

Humbled, touched, and not a little too happy because of it all, Glorfindel could not keep the smile from his face even as Erestor scowled at him. Knowing when the other was at his limit, the captain quickly gathered himself. He was only barely able to keep the laughter from his voice as he bowed and said, "Farewell then, fair Erestor. I look forward to this evening."

For a moment, Erestor looked like he was about to hit him, or throw something at his head. Good thing the hallways were clear of potential projectiles; Erestor could really be high-strung sometimes. Still, he was... endearing.

Erestor left without a word.

Glorfindel watched him until he disappeared at the other end of the hall, his heart thundering in his chest. Not without his own nerves, he then took off to the opposite end at a run. He had an evening meeting to prepare for, after all.

Pain (G)

Erestor is overworked. Glorfindel tries to help.

Read Pain (G)

"Are you all right?"

Erestor looks up from his work and sees Glorfindel staring up at him from the desk across his own.

Glorfindel is one of Imladris' more frequent visitors. He almost lives there half the time, but Gil-galad relied on him yet for much of the work in the army that everyone regards Glorfindel still as a resident of Lindon. Erestor finds him to be an amiable sort of Elf, pleasant and thoughtful despite his status and accomplishments. It was no issue to him, therefore, when Elrond asked if he could share his office with the new captain for whenever he has to stay in the valley.

"I am fine," Erestor tells him, waving off his concern. "Just a headache."

Glorfindel frowns and regards him thoughtfully. "I thought so. You do not look well, if you would pardon me saying so. Why don't you rest for the day?"

Erestor shakes his head. "I am afraid I cannot. I need to finish this scroll before the messengers leave for Lindon tomorrow, else it shall be another fortnight before it reaches the King." Truth be told, Erestor wants nothing more than to be done with the task and lie down. It is promising to be a particularly bad day, but he supposes it cannot be helped. Things in the valley have been busy of late. Establishing new realms are always so, and with the sieges still so recent, logistics and security are always fighting for priority.

He notices the light dim in their small, shared room, and he heard along with it a swift, rustling sound. He looks up in time to see Glorfindel pulling the curtains over a good part of their office window.

"How is that?" he asks, looking back at Erestor.

There is just enough Sun light now to read the text off the parchment on Erestor's desk, but the strain in his eyes has indeed eased a little. He blinks at the thoughtful gesture. "Aye, that is better. Thank you," he says with a small, grateful nod. "You did not have to, though."

"It's all right. You should have said something earlier."

Glorfindel returns to his desk, and for a while, things are quiet again, the room filled only with the occasional scratching of quill on parchment. While on most days, such a thing would be a comfort to Erestor, it is proving troublesome that afternoon, as the relative silence is putting more focus on the throbbing in his temples and behind his eyes.

He tries to work the best he can. The matter truly is urgent and not something he can delegate to the junior councillors, and Elrond has enough on his plate. Erestor now realises he really ought to have taken Elrond's advice and slept more often than he did. It cannot be helped now, though; he shall rest when the work is done.

He starts as he hears something being placed on top of his desk. He squints up - it is difficult now to shift his gaze from one thing to another - and there is Glorfindel again, a small, clear bottle in front of him.

"Peppermint oil," says the blond Elf-lord, his brows furrowed in a small frown. "You are looking pale now. I use it for sore muscles, but it should work for tension headaches, too."

"Ah." Erestor wonders how awful he must look if Glorfindel is bothering himself with him twice now within the same afternoon. He takes the bottle and examines it distractedly. "Thank you," he sighs, and he does his best to meet Glorfindel's eyes. "I apologise if I am bothering you. Really, I am fine."

"I must beg your pardon again, Counsellor, but you do not look it." Glorfindel nods at the bottle. "Please use as much as you need. It should work best if you massage it in."

"I am not very good at such things, I'm afraid," says Erestor in kind. "Anyway, it is peppermint; it should still work even if I just rub it on my head, would it not?"

"I suppose," is the slow response. "Though in your condition..." Glorfindel regards him for a moment, a thin line still between his brows, marring that otherwise handsome face. He truly is fair even for a Vanya, thinks Erestor. He has always thought so, ever since their first meeting.

He blinks when a look of resolve settles on Glorfindel's face, and starts again when the captain makes a move to walk behind Erestor's desk.

"What are you doing?" he asks even as strong hands settle on his shoulders and pull him back. His head and back are pulled to lean against Glorfindel now, a body warm and steady behind Erestor's chair.

"Helping you feel better. You are working on something important, are you not? We should make sure you last the rest of the day."

"Evening," he corrects him. "I do not think this will be done before the dinner bell." He jumps as two thumbs press on the stiff muscles on his shoulders, just at the base of his nape. "But you really do not have to do this," he quickly adds.

"It's fine." Glorfindel reaches over to take the bottle from Erestor's hand. The sharp scent of peppermint reaches Erestor's nose shortly after that and he breathes in deeply, an unconscious thing, as his tired body seems to take what comfort it can get. "Besides, I will not be able to work with you fidgeting about and looking as though you will be ill at any moment." Though he speaks, he does so slowly, and Erestor just notices the quiet quality of Glorfindel's voice. He seems to speak carefully so as not to bother Erestor. "It is unusual, though. Does this happen to you often?"

Another gentle pull and then warm fingers press between Erestor's brows. His eyes fall closed almost immediately, and despite earlier misgivings, he cannot help but melt back against Glorfindel and those firmly pressing fingers. "Not often. It is only that I have not slept in... over a month now, I think."

"A month?" Those calming touches stop as quickly as they began. Erestor opens his eyes to wide blue eyes staring down at him. "Do you always sleep so little?"

"Nay, I sleep enough. Recently, however, I cannot squeeze in more than an occasional nap. It is just that so much has happened and we have not yet fully recovered. We are stretched thin and much of what we lack are essential things - food, plants we use for healing and treating the wounded, shelter." He heaves a heavy sigh. "We may have defeated Annatar for now, but we have lost much in that first battle, for we relied heavily on the fields of Ost-in-Edhil. Lindon and Eregion shared resources and capitalised on different industries, each specialising on specific things. We found we yielded more that way, you see. But now we must recreate what we had in Eregion here in Imladris, and with so many refugees, we cannot afford any delays."

"I see," comes Glorfindel's soft reply. To Erestor's relief, those fingers begin moving again, slow drags from the dip near the bridge of his nose and up, tracing the shape of his brows before pressing at his temples. Glorfindel's touch is warm, reminding Erestor of Elrond's healing hands, and he relaxes further at the expert touches. "I remember the King mentioned you used to head the council on trade and industry back at the main palace. I take it these things are still your problem now?"

"That job has not changed, despite the change in assignment," Erestor smiles ruefully at the thought. "If anything, it is now that my work is needed most."

"That is undeniable." Glorfindel makes slow, firm rotations now focussed at Erestor's temples. "Rest for now, then, and rid yourself of this headache so you may soon return to your work. I wish I could say I can help you with it, but ever have I been in the military while another took care of other concerns. I cannot help you with what you are doing, but I know of the aches of the body enough to heal them. Let me help in the way I can."

Erestor opens his eyes sleepily at this. He had hoped to reassure Glorfindel again and tell him that there truly is no need for him to feel as though he has to help, but he also cannot deny that what the Elf-lord is doing now relieves Erestor immensely. The more Glorfindel continues, the better Erestor feels, and he finds himself less and less inclined to refuse such a generous offer. And so, despite his more conservative judgment, Erestor closes his eyes again and leans back, letting Glorfindel chase his stress away.

With his unspoken permission thus given, it seems Glorfindel grows more confident as he dives fully into his task. Fingers comb under Erestor's hair and press firmly on his scalp, easing tension there that he does not even know he had. Glorfindel spends some time in that area, alternating between massages to the skull and long, slow pulls on his hair that Erestor feels deep in their roots. He moves down to the hairline, to the back of Erestor's neck, thumbs pressing up and down its length. Erestor's breath hitches as those thumbs press on his stiff shoulders again, over his robe, kneading the muscle and easing the knots.

By now, the oil has begun to seep into Erestor's skin, coating him in a calming mix of coolness and heat. The scent of peppermint is strong around them that it feels as though an invisible mist has descended upon them. He breathes it in, letting it comfort him from inside and out.

"This is making me sleepy," he says. It comes out groggy, but he thinks that is to be expected.

"I was about to suggest that you sleep a while," says Glorfindel as he dots a path of firm pressure down the upper half of Erestor's spine. "You will feel much better faster, and there is a good chance you shall wake up feeling completely better. Besides, if you allow me to do this properly, I think falling asleep is inevitable."

"Even if you were to stop now, odds are I still will fall asleep."

Glorfindel chuckles. "It seems like you are resigned to it, then. That is good; I thought I would have had to fight you for it. Come." He pats Erestor's shoulder. "You may as well lie down. It will be easier for me to reach your wrist that way."

"My wrist?" Erestor is distracted enough by that statement that it allows Glorfindel to pull him up to stand. He then finds himself being led to the long couch on one side of the room. "Wait, Glorfindel. I have inconvenienced you enough; you need not do this. I am fine taking a nap on my desk."

"You mean the kind of naps that are not restful, led to the stiff muscles on your shoulders and brought you to the condition you are in now?" Glorfindel sits Erestor on the couch and leaves him momentarily to pull the chair from Erestor's desk, which he then places beside the couch. "Lie down, Erestor."

Erestor feels his face heat at the words and he protests again, even as Glorfindel sits on the chair in front of him. "Really, Glorfindel. You have done more than enough. I can just sleep here."

"Do not protest too much, Counsellor, lest you grow stiff again and then we are back to where we started. Look, this is all that I will do." Glorfindel takes some of the oil in his hands again and rubs them in. He then reaches over and takes one of Erestor's hands, and proceeds to rub his thumbs along the wrist. "Trust me, it helps. I actually like this part best, but it also never fails to put me to sleep."

Erestor catches the hitch in his breath as Glorfindel rubs the oil in, the massage a little lighter this time that it almost tickles, just a little bit. He bites the inside of his lip to keep from making any sound, though he must be blushing to the roots of his hair by now. He hears Glorfindel chuckle.

"Erestor, lie down. Stop thinking too much and sleep." He does not seem to trust Erestor to move himself, for he stops and pushes him down, arranging one of the throw pillows under his head. "I will wake you if the dinner bell does not. The sooner you sleep, the more time you shall have for rest."

Finally, Erestor sighs and surrenders for the second time. What an oddly bull-headed Elf, he thinks to himself even as he curls on his side, giving Glorfindel access to his hands. Glorfindel had already begun massaging down the center of Erestor's palm.

"You know..." he murmurs as the drowsy mist of sleep begins to descend on him again. "When you first came to Lindon, I did not expect you to be so friendly."

"Friendly?"

"Hmm. You were surprisingly pleasant, given who you are, and now you even offer something like this to a colleague so readily. It is a bit much to expect from a former lord; I wouldn't even think you had it in you. But..." He covers his mouth as he yawns, and closes his eyes as Glorfindel takes his hand and gives it the same treatment as the other. "I am... glad you insisted. It feels good, what you are doing."

"Thank you, and you are welcome," he hears Glorfindel say. "I was only worried, so it actually comes as a relief to me that you let me help."

"Let you?" Erestor chuckles sleepily. "I don't remember being given a choice in the matter." He sighs and settles deeper into his pillow, already half-asleep. "But it truly is... quite kind of you."

 

---

 

Erestor falls asleep soon after that.

Unbeknownst to the sleeping Elf, Glorfindel sits there a while longer, though the massage had stopped, seeing as the one benefiting from it is already asleep. Glorfindel leans forward with both elbows on his knees, chin resting on one hand as he observes Erestor's sleeping face. The stubborn thing, he even has his eyes closed; he is exhausted enough to require healing sleep.

Friendly, he called him. And kind. Glorfindel smiles, shaking his head.

"Did you really think I would do this for just anybody?" He says it fondly, though not without also a great deal of exasperation. He reaches out and brushes the hair away from Erestor's face, fingers lingering a moment, just a brief caress. He sighs. "What a ridiculously clueless creature."

---

Chapter End Notes

I think I now headcanon Glorfindel and Erestor sharing offices in Imladris' early years, when it's not yet all big and pretty. It's sweet and convenient for stories. 

Know (E/Adult)

To know one's beloved in a more intimate way is a natural desire.

Read Know (E/Adult)

Glorfindel checks the knot, adjusting the cloth unnecessarily just for an excuse to touch him. "Are you comfortable?"

"Aye. It is just..." Erestor touches the blindfold around his head, carefully feeling along its edges with his fingertips. "It takes a while to get used to this."

Glorfindel settles his hands on his lover's shoulders, lightly squeezing. "I am sorry," he says gently, "and thank you for agreeing to it."

Pale hands lower, revealing a smile as Erestor turns his head, as though pulled by Glorfindel's voice behind him. "How can I refuse when you asked so nicely?" He chuckles. "You were even so adorable when I asked you what you wanted and you told me this - my oddly shy captain, coming in with such a bold request."

Glorfindel cannot help the doting smile that spreads across his face, though he also ducks his head briefly in embarrassment. He shifts on the bed and crawls around Erestor to settle in front of him. He surveys his work.

No matter how long he has known Erestor - the many years of working together, of centuries serving in the same court, of seeing him in times of peace and times of war, him in his politician's robes or even through the ash and grime of Dagorlad - despite having known him through a wide range of climates and experiences, never was there a moment when he failed to take Glorfindel's breath away.

Seated in the middle of Glorfindel's bed, black hair against black bedroom robes loosely tied - a stark contrast to his usual austere style - and with that blindfold covering his eyes and somehow giving focus, too, on those reddening, slightly parted lips, Erestor paints a picture straight out of Glorfindel's fantasies. His legs are bent with both feet on either side of him, a pose that lets him accommodate Glorfindel in the 'v' between those tempting, white thighs. Glorfindel cannot keep his hands from straying to touch them even had he wanted to.

It does not take much for Erestor to seduce him. Most of the time, he does not even know it when he does, but long had Glorfindel known what it is like to keep his hands behind himself, fingers closed in a tight fist as he watched Erestor move across the ballroom or the rooms they use for council. Those were the days when they were but colleagues and brothers-in-arms. Long did he watch himself, keep his hands from straying or his eyes to linger over long, that it is only later that he learned that it takes a while to set aside years of love and lust denied.

The blindfold - Glorfindel will not admit it to Erestor, for even though he said it was just for play, something lovers do, it also serves another purpose. Erestor often laughs whenever Glorfindel tells him that he finds him intimidating. How can someone like the renowned Balrog-slayer, the sole Elda to return from the West and serve as emissary to the Valar, be intimidated by anyone, much less by an old, nameless counsellor?

Erestor does not seem to understand, not fully. Glorfindel is all those things they say - a warrior, a former lord, and even indeed perhaps a celebrated hero, albeit he will admit this last one reluctantly - but at the same time, he is also just another person walking in Arda. Elves - all of Eru's children - each see things in their own way, find qualities to admire in others, fall in love. That is the crux of it, really: whatever ways one describes Glorfindel, when he faces Erestor, he is also just another Elf - one very much in love.

It is a whole new experience that he finds still difficult to describe. Having walked millennia alone, he is one of those rare ones to find love later in life, and so at times he feels his wisdom fails him when it comes to it now. Now that they are lovers, so many things that Glorfindel only endured and pushed to the back of his mind during the long years of their acquaintance came rushing to the fore, but at the same time, so new do all things seem that many of what he desires feel forbidden still. Besides, he knows Erestor to be intelligent, discerning and often even critical. He sees through others as most good politicians do, and he is more cunning than Glorfindel, sharper in many ways. Glorfindel is no fool and he rose to the ranks, too, by the skills of his hand and mind, yet not a year of knowing Erestor and already he knew that the counsellor is of a different calibre. So many of the qualities that Glorfindel admires in others, he found in Erestor, and to see it all in one Elf - one striking, beautiful Elf - was an astounding discovery. His heart raced each time Erestor revealed something about himself that is close to Glorfindel's heart.

When he finally won him, it had felt like the desire that remained asleep in him suddenly awakened, and now aims to compensate for all the lost years. But all those years of keeping to himself took their toll, and even when they make love, the feeling of Erestor's eyes watching him makes him self-conscious. Glorfindel fears him in an inexplicable way, fears his disapproval, fears the day that the sweetness of new romance breaks and Erestor shall refuse him, tell him he crossed a line.

Wisdom tells Glorfindel that such things are only in his mind. The tempest of new love, after all, can settle as the Sea calms after a storm, and like it, it can remain beautiful still, and survive through time.

He knows all these, but whenever Erestor's eyes settle on him, he feels the weight of them. Despite this, Glorfindel desires him greatly, for he finds him more beautiful than words can say and he wishes to know him intimately in ways he sometimes cannot bring himself to ask. To know him well as a lover, to wile a day away in bed reaching unknown heights - he wants all these with a desire that grows every day.

In the end, it took this - Erestor promising to give whatever Glorfindel wanted, if he would all but ask - to somehow ease his fears and give him this one opportunity. And, of course, there is the blindfold, which lets Glorfindel hide.

"Glorfindel?"

Erestor's voice is quiet, even hesitant, and it effectively pulls Glorfindel out of his own mind. Ah, what is he doing? Poor Erestor is waiting patiently for him, but Glorfindel must have taken too long, and it must be uncomfortable to be so left in darkness.

"I am here," he says, reaching out. He takes Erestor's hand and squeezes in reassurance. As he caresses one soft cheek with his other hand, he feels Erestor sigh and relax under his touch. Glorfindel's skin tingles at the feel of moist heat passing and he stares at him openly, taking in that picture of willing surrender before he leans in, unable to keep himself from finally tasting.

Oh, he loves kissing Erestor. The counsellor's lips are sweet, so soft and tempting that even their fateful first kiss, though it started sweetly, eventually led to a frenzy that had Glorfindel pressing Erestor against the wall of a dark alcove, crushing lips and pulling hair, biting him and rutting against him even as the songs from the nearby Hall of Fire mingled with their panting breaths and pleasured moans. His love for the dark-haired counsellor had always been coloured with a haze of lust, and every kiss thereafter was no less passionate. Even now, Glorfindel soon finds himself coaxing Erestor's lips to open, fingers burying themselves in thick, black hair as he dips his tongue in that honeyed mouth.

Fortunately for Glorfindel, Erestor seems to love being kissed this way. His hands soon find Glorfindel's shoulders, clutching tightly. He leans forward and opens himself beautifully to those devouring kisses, moaning his approval, his legs twisting to the front and spreading wider as he brings their bodies closer. Glorfindel guides those legs around himself without breaking their kiss, and he wraps his arms around Erestor's waist to pull him flush against him. Twin moans of pleasure escape them as their groins press together through their clothes, and Glorfindel's hand is immediately on the ties of Erestor's robe, the other arm wrapped around him still, keeping him close.

Erestor's robe falls open, revealing him completely bare beneath it, just as the kiss naturally comes to an end. The pleasure of it must have lingered though, as Erestor takes his bottom lip between his teeth and moans still in Glorfindel's arms, head tilted back as he arches up, rubbing his arousal against his lover. Glorfindel lets him, panting now as he watches him with an awed gaze; Erestor is beautiful drowned in desire, and when he becomes like this, Glorfindel can never deny him. The scent of him aroused is heady and drives up Glorfindel's own desire, and he runs a thumb up along that pale throat, his touch possessive, before he runs a tongue up to trace where his finger had been.

Erestor gasps and jumps, and his moan is somehow louder that it makes Glorfindel shift and look up at him. The colour is high on Erestor's face and the rest of him is beginning to flush pink.

"Th-The blindfold," he says between short, panting breaths. "I think somehow it... feels a little more intense."

"Aah," Glorfindel whispers low and smiles against that warm skin. He leans in to kiss along Erestor's neck again and delights at the way his lover shudders in his arms. "That is good, is it not?"

Wishing to test things further, he leans forward, pushing Erestor back, supporting him with his arms as he trails kisses down the smooth whiteness of his chest. As he reaches his first destination, he pauses for only a moment, listening to Erestor's quickening breaths. He feels Erestor's fingers curling on the material of his robes, clutching tightly at his shoulders, and he looks up at him, gaze turning heated as he sees how Erestor waits with open-mouthed anticipation. He then tips his head down and kisses the skin beneath his lips, before he then opens his mouth to run his tongue against a pink nipple.

Erestor gasps and jumps beautifully in reaction. Glorfindel wraps his lips around that blushing nub, sucks it in his mouth and feels its harden under his tongue as Erestor's nails bury themselves in his skin. He lays Erestor fully on the bed, keeping his mouth on him even as he sheds his own robe, letting bare skins touch. He then pins Erestor by the wrist, and lets him arch up to him as he flickers his tongue back and forth against that sensitive bud.

"Glorfindel!" Erestor sounds breathless as he squirms and moans beneath him. He arches up again when Glorfindel moves his mouth to the other nipple, giving it the same attention as his fingers squeeze and play at the one his lips abandoned. The sound of Erestor's pleasure is heady and shoots straight to Glorfindel's cock; he feels himself hardening further with every moan, every hitch in his lover's breath. Erestor is particularly sensitive here and Glorfindel enjoys teasing him this way, loves the feel of that pebbled nub against his tongue, each flick making Erestor cry out every time. He sucks hard before pulling back, fingers catching that reddened nub as he plays him now with both hands, and he watches Erestor throw his head back, his mouth open in pleasure even as he squirms and cries out beneath Glorfindel.

"Is that good?" Glorfindel asks, voice now deep with arousal. Erestor's pleasure is intoxicating.

"Oh," comes the gasped reply, "yes." Somehow, the sight of Erestor arching up in bed, mouth parted, pale skin a stark contrast to the black of the blindfold, his hair, even the robe that falls open down his arms - they seduce him as surely as if Erestor had been touching him. "Oh, please," says Erestor again. "Please, Glorfindel."

His heart racing in his chest, Glorfindel rises up to hover above him. Straddling him now, he bends down to take those lips again, swallowing the helpless moan that escapes as Glorfindel continues to tease and play with him even as they kiss. He kisses Erestor wetly and deeply, for he can never kiss him with less than a crippling amount of desire.

He feels more than sees Erestor's hands moving. They seem restless, running down Glorfindel's sides, scratching as they go. They stray to Erestor's thighs, rubbing up and down, and Glorfindel groans at the thought of them being there at all. He knows what Erestor wants, but he lets him battle against touching himself for a little while longer as he dips back down and deepens their kiss, biting lips and pulling, teasing him further. Just as Erestor loses the battle with himself, one hand reaching down to that leaking hardness between his legs, Glorfindel catches him in a strong grip.

Erestor whimpers and breaks their kiss. "Please," he whispers, lips now trembling beneath Glorfindel's. "Please. Touch me now, I cannot--"

Glorfindel stops him with another kiss and feels Erestor's moan reverberate in his mouth. He marvels at this reaction, for it has not been that long yet since they began and Erestor is already like this. He caresses a blushing cheek, and he brushes his lips lightly against Erestor's ear as he whispers, "Hush. Do not go too fast, love. You promised me this, did you not? I do not wish for it to end so soon."

"Oh, but you--" Erestor takes Glorfindel's face in both hands and kisses him, hard and deep and desperate. "Please. Please, never has it been like this."

Glorfindel's smiles even as he kisses him in return. "You taste good, especially when you become like this." He pulls back and looks at his lover, hands sliding down Erestor's arms, threading their fingers together. "You look beautiful, Erestor."

He takes one of Erestor's hands, plays with the trembling fingers even as he continues to look up at his panting lover. He then turns his gaze down to the hand he holds and he smiles. Erestor, ever the model scholar, is also most sensitive here. Glorfindel therefore takes great delight in pulling that hand to him, thumb pressing at the centre of the palm, and he feels himself shiver at Erestor's quiet moan when he runs the tip of his tongue on the skin of his lover's wrist. He teases him with licks and kisses and tiny nips, trails the same down to his palm and to the longest finger. He sucks at the tip of it before taking it all in his mouth.

Erestor's panting breaths are loud in the silence of the room. "You-- are terrible." His voice has grown velvet deep, one Glorfindel feels coiling hot and low in his groin. "A terrible, terrible tease."

Glorfindel smiles even as he pulls away with a gentle suckling sound, before proceeding to blow a cool stream of air from finger up to Erestor wrist. The catch in Erestor's breath is rewarding. "You are the one letting me do this now," he says, gazing up at that face again, though he speaks still close to Erestor's stimulated wrist. "Am I allowed more?"

He feels Erestor's fingers brush the skin of his neck even as he attempts to catch his breath. "Glorfindel, you already have me at the brink," he says. "I am begging you to take more."

Glorfindel groans at the wanton response. Unable to deny them both any longer, he lifts up and swiftly moves to the hardness lying stiff on Erestor's abdomen, and licks it up from base to tip.

Erestor surges up in reaction, for without his sight, he knew not what Glorfindel planned to do. Glorfindel is ready and catches him though, and presses him back down on the bed as he swallows him as far down as his throat allows. Erestor's scream of pleasure is hoarse and cracked and Glorfindel loves it, and wanting more, he wraps his hand around the base to make up for what he cannot reach with his mouth. He pulls his head back slowly, keeps a gentle, teasing suction as he goes; he lingers at the tip, sucking at the head before running his tongue along the slit, drinking in the moisture there. The taste of him goes straight to Glorfindel's own cock and he moans with his mouthful, the sound mirrored by Erestor's own groaning pleasure as Glorfindel takes him in deep again, bobs his head up and down as he worships him with hand and mouth, Erestor's cries of approval ringing sweetly in his ears.

He keeps at this for a while until Erestor's breathing clues him to an impending end, after which Glorfindel begins to slow and pull back. Erestor whines in protest, but Glorfindel heeds him not, taking his kisses instead to Erestor's hips and thighs. He licks around and along his lover's sacs, sucks one side in his mouth just to hear Erestor's delighted moan and get those legs wrapping around him. But even as he attempts to control Erestor and keep him from tipping over, Glorfindel feels his own head grow cloudy with the thick mist of his own arousal. Here is where Erestor's scent is strongest, and Glorfindel bites more at Erestor's thighs this time, for he cannot keep himself from doing so, as he reaches down to press a hand in his own cock to alleviate some of the pressure there. Pleasuring Erestor never fails to arouse him in kind and he finds himself growing delirious with wanting.

He kisses down those long legs, pressing loving kisses on knees and calves, kisses the top of Erestor's feet as his thumbs press on the sensitive underside. Many more kisses he bestows as he kneads feet and ankles and calves, moving up again and spreading Erestor's thighs further as he settles in between them. He is back to kissing Erestor's neck and he nips at an ear, at the edge of the blindfold, before saying, "Turn around, Erestor."

Erestor's groan is swallowed in a kiss, but he moves obediently as Glorfindel guides him to lay on his front. He buries his face on a pillow with a low, muffled moan, and Glorfindel licks his lips watching the subtle thrusts Erestor makes against the bed. He must be so close, any more of that and it shall all end. Glorfindel gets back to straddling him and presses down on Erestor's lower back, pressing him hard against the bed, stopping those minute thrusts. Erestor's cry is now mixed with a hint of sobs, and he calls Glorfindel's name again. "Please, please, please," he begs, struggling against that heavy hold. His fingers are clutched so tightly on the pillows.

Glorfindel bends down to whisper in those ears, his full weight almost pressing down along his lover's body. "I can take whatever I want, is that not right?" he says as a reminder. Erestor whimpers his agreement, earning himself a kiss at the back of his ear.

Glorfindel carefully gathers Erestor's dark hair, carding his fingers through and enjoying the feel of that soft mass, before setting it aside to reveal the smooth expanse of Erestor's back. He lets his touch grow heavier here, pressing his thumbs against muscles that have grown tense not only from their play, but also beyond it, from Erestor's work in the valley and the stress of his office. Erestor moans his approval to this, melting further into the mattress, even as he gasps at the kisses that Glorfindel peppers down his back along with the massage. Indulging him for a few moments, Glorfindel eventually presses fingers down a trail along Erestor's spine, down to the small of his back, ending with a strong squeeze to that beautifully full backside.

Glorfindel looks up at Erestor even as he kneads those soft cheeks. Erestor has grown quiet, but Glorfindel recognises his tense anticipation at the way his head is tilted as though listening for what Glorfindel is about to do, the way he licks his lips and the way his mouth falls open as Glorfindel presses a thumb at the pink, puckered opening.

He can feel his own cock throbbing at the sight. It seems his body, like Erestor, expects what they usually do past this point, conditioned as he was to know that gloriously tight heat once he has Erestor in this position. But today is different, and he desires something he has wanted to do even during the first time they laid together. He eyes that opening intently, his mouth watering at the sight of that seemingly innocent pink, and he thinks of the times he had made that colour turn a seductive red after pumping it relentlessly with his fingers and his cock. Ever has he wondered what it would taste like, and looking at it now, he cannot help the groan that escapes him as he spreads those cheeks wider, revealing more of it to his hungry gaze.

He hears Erestor begin to hesitantly call his name, but it gets cut with a cry as Glorfindel dives down to run his tongue flush against that tempting pink. The taste is more than he ever imagined and his loud groan joins that of Erestor's as he drives his tongue into that now moist heat, delving into that new but long desired secret.

Somehow it is not unlike kissing, the movements that are required in this, only this would undeniably be regarded as more obscene. Oh, but it eases an ache in Glorfindel that he has long harboured in the many years of lusting after Erestor, that desire to know him fully and in the most intimate of ways. Nothing about Erestor must ever be kept a secret from him, and he groans deep in his throat as he drives his tongue deep, in and out and fucking him in this most desired way. Erestor gasps and lets out those shocked, stilted cries somewhere above Glorfindel, but he goes on, bestowing those dirty, needy kisses even as he pushes Erestor back and forth against the bed, knowing to stimulate even the cock trapped against the mattress, Erestor's cries guiding his movements. He pulls back to find Erestor already wet and slick with his own spit and he groans at the sight, seduced by the thought of what he has done. He bends down to lick him up again, driven mad by it all, before he holds Erestor down and keeps him still, cries of protest unheeded as strong arms tangle with those beautiful thighs. With Erestor thus trapped, Glorfindel dives back down for more of that sweet, forbidden musk.

Erestor's sobs are undeniable now, and even through the haze of lust, Glorfindel looks up at him. Erestor has one hand over his mouth, muffling his cries, and though the look of shock is present still, so is his face still red with a high flush. The sounds that do escape from that trembling hand sound far from displeased. If anything, Glorfindel knows he shall not be forgiven if he stops now; Erestor moves now along with him, taking his tongue in, rutting against the bed in whatever minute way Glorfindel's strong grip allows. Wishing to push him higher, Glorfindel rises, and with one hand pressed down against Erestor's lower back, he sucked two fingers in his mouth to wet them before driving them deep inside him, straight to where he knows Erestor's pleasure will be unbearable.

"Glorfindel!"

Erestor sounds now like nothing Glorfindel has ever heard, a loud mix of sobs and cries and groans in time with his thrusting fingers. He near screams every time Glorfindel's fingers push inside him, brushing and pressing against that hidden bundle of nerves, and he moans helplessly as teeth sink in on one fleshy cheek of his backside. Glorfindel pulls out, spreads him wide with thumbs on either side of those cheeks, runs his tongue along that blushing hole once again before plunging his fingers back in. Erestor all but screams.

"Glorfindel!" he cries. "Stop, I beg you, or I will-- I am close, oh please , take me now--"

Glorfindel's hands shake as he prepares himself, taking a moment to coat his cock in oil before putting just enough on Erestor. He almost does not need it, so wet and pliant has he become, but Erestor cries out as fingers plunge inside him again.

"Valar, enough! I beg you, please, Glorfindel, take me!"

Glorfindel wastes no more time as he sinks his cock into that deliciously tight heat. He groans loudly as Erestor all but swallows him in, and he drowns deeper into delirium at the unbearable pleasure of being able to fill him so completely. He pulls Erestor by the hip so he is on his knees, his backside raised even as the long expanse of his back slopes down to where he had his shoulders and head still on the bed, his face flushed a deep red beneath the blindfold. The sight of him so sprawled goes straight to Glorfindel's cock, and he takes him hard, pulling out and plunging in with a loud, slapping sound, shifting his aim so each thrust has Erestor crying out his name.

Valar, he is already so close. Blood pumps through his head and cock, loud and hot as it courses through his veins. His fingers dig into the skin of Erestor's hip and he knows there will be bruises, but he cannot ease his hold. If anything, the very thought of marking that pale, perfect skin makes Glorfindel fuck him harder, hard enough that Erestor's legs fail him, making Glorfindel falter in his rhythm. He growls at the interruption and pulls Erestor up so he is kneeling, his back flushed against Glorfindel's chest with his head leaning back on a muscled shoulder, crying out with his cock red and stiff and glistening at the tip as the move takes Glorfindel deeper inside him. Glorfindel bites at a blushing ear as he growls, "Lean back if you cannot take it."

He then begins his thrusts anew, letting Erestor's wordless cries guide him as the new position gives him better aim. He hits Erestor right each time, judging by the groans that come from deep in Erestor's throat, the way he melts completely in Glorfindel's arms, mouth falling open, his breathing harsh.

"Glorfindel, Glorfindel, Glorfindel-- oh!" Erestor starts as Glorfindel reaches around and plays with his nipples, fast flickers back and forth in time with his quick thrusts. His head falls back against Glorfindel's shoulder in surrender, bonelessly taking everything that he is being given. Glorfindel recognises the signs of Erestor's orgasm moments before it comes, and he lets it build with hard, steady thrusts. He reaches over to take Erestor's cock in his hand, his other hand caressing up that heated torso, up along that seductive stretch of neck. He reaches for Erestor's open mouth and plunges two fingers there.

Erestor shatters beautifully in his arms, pulling Glorfindel to his own orgasm as his lover arches up and tightens around his cock. Glorfindel continues to pump inside him, filling him at the back and in his mouth as his hand flies up and down Erestor's cock, growing slick with come as he lets him ride down the peak of pleasure. Erestor sinks further back against him that he is almost seated on Glorfindel's lap. Drowning and dizzy in the afterglow, pleasure coursing through him still as he remains buried inside Erestor, Glorfindel turns the other's head so they could kiss, moaning into the heated slide of tongues and bruised lips.

Both are panting when time came for them to part. With his lust sated for the time being, Glorfindel is filled with an overwhelming warmth, one that has him kissing Erestor everywhere he can reach. It makes Erestor smile, and he stretches out to receive another kiss on his lips.

"Feeling better now?" he asks. His voice comes out a little hoarse still that it has Glorfindel caressing his throat in concern, before the words reach his clouded mind and he pulls back.

"What?" he asks, uncertain.

Erestor catches him and gives him a tender kiss, somehow finding Glorfindel despite his unseeing state. Glorfindel quickly loses himself in that kiss and his arms tighten around the warm body of his beloved.

"Many times have I felt that you held me with passion quelled," whispers Erestor against his lips, "but something trembles beneath the surface, and I feel it keenly when you look at me. I have wondered what it was that you wanted so much to ask." He kisses Glorfindel again, though the other's lips have stopped moving in shock as he listens intently at the words. "You think I do not see? You look as though you want to tell me something when we are together like this, but though I waited, you did not say anything. You did not feel secure with me, at least not before this."

"I want you so much," Glorfindel says finally. "You are the only one I ever wanted, and I do not know if there should be a limit. I love you, and sometimes it overwhelms me that it becomes difficult to hide."

"Do not hide it. Glorfindel, you cannot love me more than I wish you to. Believe me when I say that I want more than what you are perhaps even capable of giving. You think you are the only one? I am also in love." Erestor's head tilts down and he huffs out a soft laugh. "You would think I was a quarter my age, if only you knew what I have thought about most days since I met you. Imagine my relief that you return my regard, for otherwise it will just be terribly embarrassing. I love you, so much so that sometimes I disgust myself."

"Be quiet. You can never be disgusting." This time, it is Glorfindel who kisses him. He reaches up to remove the blindfold and Erestor breathes a relieved sigh, sinking back against him even as they deepen their kiss. "Thank you, Erestor," he whispers against those sweet, soft lips. "For giving me this, and for being so patient with me."

Erestor opens his eyes and Glorfindel finds them slightly red and watery. There is none of the old sharpness there, and he is struck by how tender Erestor's gaze now seems. Has he always looked at Glorfindel this way?

Glorfindel is soon distracted though as Erestor shifts in his arms. His breath hitches as Erestor tightens around him, and he feels himself harden fully from being there halfway after those heated kisses.

"Enough of that. We are not done yet, are we?" Erestor moves in a way that makes him groan, and soon he has Erestor pushed down to lie on the bed again. Glorfindel wraps those legs around himself as he sinks back in, making Erestor gasp and moan.

"No," he growls into Erestor's skin. "I believe I was promised an entire day, and I have a few other things to ask." He begins a series of shallow thrusts, his eyes trained at the way Erestor arches up and cries out beneath him. "Am I still allowed?"

Erestor opens his eyes and again, there is that softness there, mixed with the watery mist of arousal. He pulls Glorfindel down and kisses him. "Yes," he says breathlessly. "Always, Glorfindel. You need not even ask."

Enemies (E/Adult)

The thing about Erestor is that it is difficult to decide whether one wants him dead or pushed against a wall with his robes hiked up above and around his thighs.

To Lana, who requested an enemies-to-lovers story.

Read Enemies (E/Adult)

Eru Iluvatar, if it is true that everything is in accordance to his grand design, must have a peculiar sense of humour.

Glorfindel cannot help but think this as he stares at what has to be the most beautiful sight of his life. Coming toward him is long black hair flowing straight down, framing perfect pale skin that runs temptingly down a long neck, red lips, slightly flushed cheeks, and those usually clear green eyes now clouded still with traces of sleep. Glorfindel watches the way the grey silk tunic moves and wraps around that slender body as it settles on the seat in front of him.

The very sight of this creature inspires songs and poetry in Glorfindel's mind - not to mention dark, wicked thoughts he would never admit to even under threat of torture. Everything about the Elf pulls one to stare and indeed, there Glorfindel sits, dumb and helpless, unable to resist that call.

"Captain," sweetly said in that deep, honey-smooth voice. "If you have something to say to me, please do so instead of staring like a loon. Or did you intend for me to gouge those pretty blue eyes with my butter knife?"

Oh, but for it to be him - what was Eru thinking, creating such a creature?

Years of practice is all that Glorfindel has in his own defense, enough so he could say back: "It is a beautiful morning, Counsellor. Do not ruin it any more than your dour presence has already done."

Erestor only spares Glorfindel a withering glance before he shifts his disdain to the bowl of oatmeal he now has in front of him. What displeases him so, Glorfindel can only surmise, for he picked the item himself instead of the other things spread on the table for them to break their fast.

Truly, Glorfindel thinks as he watches Erestor scowl at his food, Melkor must have had the time of his life, composing the music for creatures of evil like Counsellor Erestor.

 

---

 

Until now, Glorfindel cannot decide whether Erestor disliked him instantly at the moment of their meeting, or whether Erestor truly has no ability to be in favour of anyone.

Glorfindel has known Elves like him in his considerably long life, people in positions at the middle ground, and who are therefore under constant strain from both the residents of a city and from the lords that govern it. Always needed, always facing some crisis or another, always under the public eye - it is no wonder they were quick of temper and sharp of tongue, for nothing ruins one's day worse than the perceived ineptitude of a subordinate under less pressure than one's self, and nothing gets a job done quicker than issuing commands in a tone that summons fear.

Ah, but Erestor - this one has turned tyranny into an art form, one he extends beyond the Elves under his direct supervision.

"We are behind on those maps and I do not understand why." Erestor has been on this tirade for the entire morning, one about patrols and obsolete maps and who knows what else, for certainly Glorfindel cannot always follow him in these meetings. "We are expecting rains to come soon and often now; I cannot believe how badly the dry season was wasted. Forgive me, Captain - did you want to study the landscape in the rain, while the Bruinen threatens to flood over the hillsides?"

Erestor reprimands like a bitter old scholar whose students were foisted on him as payment for years of debt. How he became this way, Glorfindel can only hope to guess, but it tests him even on better days.

"Cartography is a skill, Erestor, and hardly something one wakes up and decides to do," says Glorfindel, trying and perhaps failing from keeping his own annoyance from seeping through his voice. "The delay is in your scholars deeming the reports inadequate, which should not have been a surprise as they were done by warriors who know not what they are doing. Why not send one of your assistants in the field with us instead of having them complain about something we are not even competent to do?"

"Our cartographer lies among the ruins of Eregion and we have few who would do better than the soldiers," says Erestor, ever cold and tactless. "All you shall be doing is giving yourselves another set of headaches. Scholars of lore out in the wilderness? Are you an idiot?" Erestor shifts his gaze from perusing the scroll Glorfindel earlier provided and up to meet Glorfindel's eyes. "That last part was rhetorical, in case you missed it."

Glorfindel has to grit his teeth to keep from retorting, for they were now at the point in the conversation where everything goes downhill. He has learned to recognise the signs over the years and, as always, he finds himself taking the higher road and being the one to prevent things from getting any worse.

He exits the room, politely excusing himself more for the pressures of his upbringing than for any pleasantness he thinks Erestor might deserve. Had Glorfindel been the type who would look at such things, he would probably wonder more about Erestor and whatever it is that gives him the gall to speak with Glorfindel in such a manner. He supposes that it is true that Erestor had also been a lord at some point, hence the title, but a lord of what and for how long, Glorfindel does not know. There is nothing about Erestor that allows one to delve deeper into his story and background, for too busy would one be with being offended and keeping oneself from throttling the chief counsellor by the neck.

 

---

 

The thing about Erestor is that it is difficult to decide whether one wants him dead or pushed against a wall with his robes hiked up above and around his thighs.

It is not vanity, Glorfindel decides, as he finds himself once again in Erestor's office. The counsellor is standing over his desk as he scans through Glorfindel's new request, allowing Glorfindel some time to observe him in peace.

It does not seem as though Erestor spends extra hours in his day primping and grooming himself any more than any other Elf. He wears his hair much like the other counsellors do, and his robes are rather standard that Glorfindel would not be surprised if Erestor picked them all out from the seamstresses' ready designs.

No, Erestor would not have the time nor interest for superficial things. Nevertheless, his hair seems the softest that Glorfindel has ever seen, and the robes he wears fall perfectly around his body like second skin. He is naturally tall and slender, and when he moves, he does so thoughtlessly, yet always he appears smooth and elegant, hardly walking but gliding down the halls, and every blink in Glorfindel's direction feels like pure seduction.

But when Erestor opens his mouth, it is like hearing the drums of Thangorodrim all over again.

"This amount is ludicrous," Erestor exclaims, as Glorfindel knew he would. "I do not care if the calculations took you all night; we simply do not have the resources you demand. We are a mere settlement still, Captain, not some kingdom with gold around its encircling mountains." Glorfindel flinches at the thinly veiled barb, especially when he was just entertaining ill memories of the past, but Erestor does not even look at him anymore. "Redo the calculations and give me a number I can actually work with."

"I do hope you realise that settling any lower would affect the results you yourself has set," says Glorfindel. "I can revise the proposal, but I do not want to hear any complaints like the ones you made on the maps."

This, of course, earns Glorfindel a glare. "Is it too much to hope that one so wise and experienced could address a problem so simple as a minor shortage?"

"If you want miracles, then I suggest praying at the temples of the Ainur. Meanwhile, I shall be busy stretching what resources you throw so reluctantly to the same army that ensures you can even go to bed in peace at night!"

Life in Imladris, and really even as far back as life in Lindon, could have been more peaceful and pleasant had he not been saddled with being the other end of Elrond's inner circle - which, nowadays, is really just composed of Glorfindel and Erestor. Glorfindel dreads each time he runs an idea through Elrond, only for the Lord of the Valley to pass the idea along to Erestor for his opinion. Most especially, he dreads this most when the idea reaches Elrond just after Glorfindel bypassed Erestor.

"I think this is workable," says Elrond of the same proposal Erestor had just spent the entire afternoon bringing down when it was just between him and Glorfindel. "If we push ourselves a little, and maybe ask Gil-galad for aid, the returns would be more than worth it. You do not think so, Erestor?"

Erestor outwardly looks as put together as he always does, standing in the middle of Elrond's office. Glorfindel, however, has observed him long enough to recognise the tension on his shoulders and the tightness around his mouth.

"It is a gamble, and should it fail, it is wasteful and would seem foolish at the end of the day." Erestor turns his head and smiles pleasantly at Glorfindel. "But if you are so optimistic of success, my lord, then of course it can be done. In any case, we are stable enough that we can afford to stumble and fall on our faces every once in a while."

What Glorfindel hates the most about Erestor is that he is, more often than not, right about most things. It is therefore discouraging when he is so opposed to something, but Glorfindel also knows him to be naturally tight about releasing Imladris' reserves, and so Glorfindel stands by his own proposal this time around. Erestor overseeing the resources of the valley is an obstacle for everyone, but perhaps a miser in such a position is a necessary evil for every kingdom.

They leave Elrond's office together, which, of course, brings them to a whole new different battlefield once again.

Erestor turns to Glorfindel the moment they are out of hearing range. "If you will only bring to Elrond the same thing to which I have already objected, then perhaps next time you should bring everything else to him directly, so as not to waste my time."

Glorfindel sighs, exhausted by it all. "Erestor, for the love of the Valar. If you make everything difficult, I might do just that."

That Glorfindel even runs everything by Erestor should be a wonder in its own. Really, it is too inconvenient, having to work together while Glorfindel wrestles with this terrible infatuation. Glorfindel is not even so sure anymore if he truly believes things ought to be coordinated so much with Erestor for the smooth running of the valley, or whether these things are just excuses to torture himself with each cruel, bittersweet encounter.

 

---

 

The downside to having a colleague so educated with languages is that one could face an opponent who never runs out of verbal projectiles. Glorfindel never worked much with Dwarves, but Erestor has cursed him often enough that he feels himself prepared to brawl with the Naugrim any time he feels cheated in a drinking game.

The worst part of it all, Glorfindel thinks, is that Erestor is like this with everybody. He cannot even claim being treated special - a thought which, Glorfindel was horrified to realise, points to some twisted, bordering masochistic form of jealousy.

"Ugh, please. Somebody just stop him, I cannot take it anymore."

Lindir is one of Erestor's frequent victims. Pretty much anyone with a senior position has been a victim of the chief counsellor, and more and more has Glorfindel sat with such Elves, helping them drink their woes away.

"Artists should never be pressured, but he never listens! Why do we even need new songs? We have more than enough. It would take a new minstrel three cycles to even learn all the songs in our records. I do not understand!"

Definitely, no one understands. Glorfindel is beginning to think that Erestor is just a mad, old dictator who likely served and trained under Fëanor's crazier sons. For some reason, however, Glorfindel does not say this out loud, even though his own mind is never quiet about his opinion on Erestor. Then again, perhaps it is just as well, given that said opinion plays on a wide landscape, ranging from murderous intent to grudging respect to burning lust to, on his better moods and more frequently in recent days, something disturbingly more tender that he does not yet care to name.

"I do not know how you do it, Glorfindel," continues Lindir as he nurses his mug of ale. "There is no one in my troupe who has not yet burst out in tears in front of Erestor. He really is a piece of work, but you seem to work fine with him everyday."

Glorfindel supposes that there lies the difference. While everyone else stays clear of Erestor, it is as though Glorfindel cannot help but keep himself in the other Elf's line of sight.

"If it makes you feel any better, he has effectively pushed me to drinking to excess, even though I have spent a literal lifetime abstaining," he tells Lindir, which makes the minstrel laugh.

"Indeed, I have seen you more frequently in these halls of late." Lindir sighs dramatically and lets his head fall on his arm against the table. "It is such a shame. Someone like him... he could have so many vying for his affections, but he makes it difficult, doesn't he, when one does not even know if he is even capable of such things?" Lindir laughs again. "Can you imagine it, Erestor as a lover?"

The awful thing is that Glorfindel can very well imagine it - has imagined it, in fact, many times on many nights, even during council in the presence of the High King, in the dining hall, through windows and across rooms, or really just about any time he sees Erestor. It is a dangerous flame that grows each and every day, and Glorfindel has long resigned himself to a day when it shall engulf him completely.

"Likely, one should just go to bed in full armour," is all he says, lifting his own mug until he can see the bottom.

"Which is such a sad state of affairs," giggles Lindir.

Glorfindel cannot help but agree.

 

---

 

And so really, it is the height of all foolishness to end up like this, drunk both in wine and the sight and scent of Erestor so close, his voice ringing still in Glorfindel's ears. But maybe it is also inevitable. Erestor provokes every strong emotion in him, some of which Glorfindel never even thought can exist, for certainly never in his old life had he ever encountered someone who vexes him so like Imladris' chief counsellor.

"Ngh." Erestor's voice is rough and even still has a touch of his usual irritation. "Bastard, that hurt. I swear to Namo, Glorfindel, if we are going to do this, the least you can do is--"

"Valar, shut up," hisses Glorfindel, pushing Erestor down further with his weight. "Shut up or I shall gag you with my belt, tie you to your desk and leave you like this for your assistants to see."

Like this, of course, is Erestor with his chest and shoulders bare with his robes twisted around his arms, bent over his own desk with Glorfindel behind him, pinning his hands to his back.

Glorfindel does not know what to blame or who to thank, or even whether he should be worried for himself, for certainly he has never heard of any Elf who found their mates the way he did Erestor. But he can no longer deny how much he wants to hold him, how much it hurt to be yelled at when all he ever wanted from Erestor is some semblance of affection - a look of kindness, words of love, some acknowledgement for what has been burning between them since Círdan introduced them at the Havens.

He knows he can no longer stop, not when they have gone this far. He now knows the taste of those lips, the sweetness of that smooth skin against his tongue, the sound of Erestor's voice when he is taken by surprise by a touch against a sensitive spot. Thankfully, Erestor does not ask him to stop. He is even quiet enough and relatively behaved, that Glorfindel is able to let him go long enough to turn him on his back, and have him lie more comfortably on his desk.

Glorfindel prepares him carefully with lips and tongue and fingers and the oil Erestor uses to light his lamps. Glorfindel takes his time, even when Erestor curses and later begs him to just get on with it, even when he can feel himself burning with the desire to take as he watches Erestor writhing around his fingers. He only relents when he has deemed Erestor ready, so that when he thrusts in, there is only relief, relief for them both, for although it has ever been Erestor's way to inflict pain whether consciously or not, Glorfindel has long resolved to answer his harshness with what tenderness he still has in his heart to give.

Then again, perhaps it is not all so benevolent. He is spiteful about how he knows Erestor must have noticed Glorfindel's regard, how Glorfindel is almost sure that the same regard is returned, only Erestor is too old and stubborn to change his ways for a love that comes late in a life he has already settled with. He wonders if it hurt Erestor just as much to deny what is surely fate, an inevitability for the both of them. But Erestor is far too good at pretending that he probably even convinced himself that he no longer needs this, living life long enough without someone like Glorfindel at his side. This is what angers Glorfindel most of all, so much so that every time he hits him right, every time Erestor arches up and moans Glorfindel's name as he endures a deep thrust, Glorfindel counts all these as points toward victory, ones he shall keep in his arsenal for when Erestor denies them again.

 

---

 

How they ended up in Glorfindel's bed is a hazy memory, and all Glorfindel prays for upon waking is that he hopes they at least were wearing clothes when they made their way down the halls.

The morning light feels harsh even through the narrow slits of Glorfindel's curtains. He turns to his side to avoid it, and promptly faces what has to be the single most heartbreaking sight of his life to date.

Erestor sleeping in his bed is about as cruel as things can get. Here is an illusion of peace, for many times Glorfindel had dreamt of moments exactly just like this one. Yet a dream it likely would still feel, one that will end not with Glorfindel waking, but with Erestor's, who would surely have an infinite number of things to say about what Glorfindel has done.

And so there Glorfindel lies, making the most out of yet a narrow window of opportunity, observing Erestor in the morning light. He truly is the most beautiful thing Glorfindel has ever seen, and he loves him deeply, this creature who sleeps with his eyes so deceptively soft and vividly green like young leaves upon the trees. Glorfindel can stare at him for years.

Alas, his window closes just as it always does. Erestor wakes slowly, his eyes clearing from the haze of sleep, and immediately Glorfindel feels his own heart hardening, preparing for the same rejection and denial as he has always endured. Sure enough, Erestor blinks up at the canopy of Glorfindel's bed, and must have recognised it not, for his brows immediately furrow in displeasure.

So beautiful and so painful - a true masterpiece, if the evil one were to ever claim such a thing.

"You... are a twisted child of Morgoth," Glorfindel hears himself say.

Dark eyebrows scrunch further down as Erestor turns to him, blinking back the last clouds of sleep. His voice is slightly hoarse when he says, "You have up to the count of three, Captain, to take that back before I cut off your tongue and feed it to the goats."

Glorfindel kisses him, hard and forceful and desperate, for this soon he really is not ready for anything Erestor cares to say.

"I wish you were kinder," he says after the end of that kiss, as he buries his face in Erestor's neck, taking what comfort he can get. "I wish Eru made our hearts more obedient, more concerned with self-preservation, and less inclined to love someone who hurts the way you do. Do you have any idea what it is like to look at you, to see the most beautiful thing I have ever known, only for you to hurl mud on my face every time I am at my barest, most vulnerable state?"

Glorfindel feels Erestor grow tense in his arms. He shuts his eyes and burrows himself deeper in Erestor's skin.

"Are you still drunk?" Erestor asks.

"Probably. Erestor..." Glorfindel forces himself up on his elbows, looking down at Erestor even as the other returns his look with a steady gaze. "I hope you do not expect me to apologise. I feel no remorse for what happened, and happily I shall do so again, once I have adequately recovered."

Erestor frowns up at him, and how badly must he have twisted Glorfindel in his own likeness, for all Glorfindel can think about in that moment is how Erestor is not glaring at him as harshly as he expected.

"I must have heard you wrong, as you seem to expect that I would let you do this again," says Erestor.

Glorfindel nearly barks out a mad laugh. As if they can still turn back!

He lifts himself on his knees so he could loom over Erestor and take his face between his hands. He delights in the slight widening of those eyes, at the hitch in Erestor's breath. He runs a thumb lightly across those red, slightly parted lips, watches them open further with little coaxing from Glorfindel. Blood runs hotly in his veins at the sight.

"Then you did hear me wrong, Lord Counsellor, because I did not - as I did not do so last night - ask for your permission."

Erestor, Glorfindel thinks, is a sack of problems all wrapped up in Eru's most beautiful song. He is sharp edges and hurtful words, and Glorfindel is not looking forward to what must surely be an eternity of heartbreaks with this Elf by his side. Yet, neither can he anymore think about a life without all this, of seeing Erestor with his hair behind him like a cloak of dread and darkness as he stalks his way down the halls, or with it unbound and spilled decadently upon Glorfindel's sheets.

And anyway, Glorfindel discovers that when kissed, Erestor turns limp and quiet, and when complimented, he averts his eyes and flushes an endearing pink. Erestor's skin, too, colours beautifully under passionate kisses, and the marks of teeth on his shoulders, his hips, his inner thighs, arouse the most sinful thoughts in Glorfindel's mind.

Whoever among the Valar ever thought to compose the music of love, Glorfindel might never know. For all he knew, they all must have sung it together and pulled it to their own wills, so twisted and convoluted does it seem, beautiful and horrible and wonderful, beyond everything Glorfindel has ever hoped to having, and beyond anything he thought he could endure.