Courage, Honesty and Strength by Esteliel

Glorfindel angrily recoiled when Celegorm relaxed beneath him, laughing at him with his lips twisted into an arrogant sneer.

"So it is like that, is it?" he drawled, and Glorfindel jumped back, hating how lately, his body seemed to continuously betray him. This was the very reason he had eschewed sparring with his own people, even braved the company of the over-proud and much disliked son of Fëanor, distant cousins though they were... Even his infamous arrogance had seemed easier to bear than the look on Forokal's face, whom he had thought his friend and beloved. Yet now Forokal thought him a brute and a monster.

Glorfindel scowled at the memory. It was not as if he had wanted to hurt him. He did not know what had come over him all of a sudden when they had tussled, laughing, kissing, that something had stirred inside him when Forokal for a moment lay helplessly beneath him. He had tightened his hands around his friend's wrists then - hard enough to leave bruises before the playful mood had vanished and Forokal had pushed him off with a look so cold it had destroyed what was left of the dark desires he had felt.

To feel that same kind of sick arousal when he had Celegorm beneath him, whom he loathed - he did not want him, he could not want him, and he did not know what had changed that his body suddenly shamed him with such horrifying lusts.

"It is not like anything," Glorfindel said coldly, and Celegorm sniggered.

"That, little cousin, is not nothing," he pointed out with a look towards Glorfindel's groin. "But if you ask me nicely, I could lead you to someone who knows more about such a thing and would only be too happy to explain - if you can bring yourself to ask me for it."

Glorfindel scowled again. "If you think I believe you, you are mistaken! I will not be made a mockery of by your brothers!"

"Ah, but the question is whether you can truly afford not to believe me?" Celegorm stretched out on the grass with a smirk, and Glorfindel furiously turned to leave - only to turn back again after one step, his eyes grim with angry resolve.

"Damn you! Please!" he ground out, ready to jump at the maddening son of Fëanor once more should he dare to mock him now, but Celegorm stood with another grin then and nodded towards where a few of the family's horses stood tied to the fence.

"Come on then - if you dare!"

Glorfindel wrapped his legs around the barrel-chested charger's powerful body, thundering in heedless gallop over the plains after Celegorm - much like he must be wont to do when joining Oromë for the hunt.

The reckless abandon of the wild chase made him for a moment even forget what had happened, and his puzzlement at where they were going. He whooped in wild joy at the horse's strength and speed, uncaring what Celegorm might think of him, yet at last they slowed and Glorfindel realized that instead of bringing him to his father's household, as he had almost feared, the large mansion they slowly moved towards now was well-known to him.

"Surprised, little cousin?" Glorfindel glowered at the smug amusement in Celegorm's voice when they left their horses in the all too familiar courtyard.

"If this is one of your trickeries..."

"You will do what?" Celegorm asked with a superior look. "Fear not - I am more interested in his reaction than in your insecurities. In any case, there he is. Someone you can learn a lot from, I am certain."

Glorfindel stopped and gaped at who was before them, sitting on a stone bench in the courtyard with his head bowed over a lute, the brightness of Laurelin dancing on his golden hair.

"Greetings, cousin," Celegorm said and bowed mockingly. "I bring you a pupil. Tell me, do you think it might be the precious Vanyarin blood that renders all of you so special in your proclivities? Mayhap I should ask uncle Finarfin what he thinks of that thesis."

"Welcome, Glorfindel. I pray you will pay him no heed." Glorfindel gaped, wide-eyed at the implication of what he was seeing when Finrod stood with a smile.

"Leave him alone, Celegorm," Finrod then continued. "We both know you will tell my father no such thing. You enjoy it too much to have such hidden knowledge. Though I have told you before that I will not be shamed by you, not for this."

"Kind, wise, patient, loved Finrod," Celegorm murmured and made the words sound almost a slur rather than praise. "Who would have thought it of you? Certainly not I, nor any of those who sing your praise in Tirion, hoping their sons or daughters might catch your eye, for you are so calm, so honest, kind and caring... You are whom everyone wants as their son-in-law, as their spouse, but what would they say if they knew of the true desires of their heart?"

Finrod smiled, eyes calm and filled with warmth despite Celegorm's words. "I am who I am, cousin," he said patiently. "You used to think me a bore when we were young, but I did not care. It still does not matter what you think of my desires. I am the way Eru made me, and I am happy. I like who I am, Celegorm!"

Glorfindel looked at Finrod, feeling strangely out of his depth while the two cousins stared at each other. At last Celegorm shook his head and laughed it off. "Careful, you might be in for more than you think. Young Glorfindel thinks himself quite the warrior."

"Warrior enough to have you beneath me not too long ago!" Glorfindel pointed out, bristling at his laughter.

"And would you not like to have fair Finrod beneath you?" Celegorm murmured and sniggered when that rendered Glorfindel speechless. "Enjoy your lessons," he said with another mocking bow and turned towards the horses, but then stopped to give Glorfindel an inscrutable look. "Did you like him?" he asked, pointing towards the gray stallion Glorfindel had ridden. "Then he is yours," he added at Glorfindel's nod, paying no heed to the look of surprise on the youth's face as he vaulted onto his own horse's back, riding off without a further word.

Glorfindel turned to look at Finrod, lost for words, but his cousin only laughed and shook his head, putting the lute aside.

"Utterly incomprehensible, all of them," Finrod said, a fleeting smile of mixed annoyance and admiration on his lips. "Yet there are many who would beg for a horse of his stock, if they thought he might relent. 'Tis a great gift."

"I know." Glorfindel stroked the powerfully muscled neck in admiration, the stallion's eyes rolling, nostrils quivering from the excitement of the wild ride, though he remained obediently at his new master's side.

"Come - will you walk with me?" Finrod then asked, offering a hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Glorfindel took it, forcing himself to stand straight and proud even though he felt as uncertain as never before.

“Finrod the beloved,” Glorfindel mused, looking at the fair prince who lay breathless and disheveled beneath him, and who laughed softly at this epithet he had been given.

“'Tis why Celegorm hates me, I think – can you imagine Celegorm the beloved?”

Glorfindel snorted in surprised hilarity. “Celegorm the prickly, mayhap... Though I should not think so of him; he was indeed strangely generous.”

“And I do love my cousins, all of them,” Finrod murmured, “strange and exhausting though they often are. He did bring you to me, after all...”

His eyes were soft with surrender as he looked up at Glorfindel, so that the youth felt a rush of hot desire once again at this trust, the taste of Finrod's submission as invigorating as the spiced mead served in his father's halls.

“You are surprising!” Glorfindel whispered, lowering his head to nuzzle the silken hair. “Surprising, and lovely...”

“And you have pleased me well.” Finrod turned his head to brush his lips against Glorfindel's so that they both sighed, his eyes filled with warm contentment and a deeper amusement beneath. “Indeed, I think this has pleased us both very well – do you think I should thank Celegorm?”

“I have not released you yet,” Glorfindel pointed out, tightening his hands around Finrod's wrist, his heart beating faster when he thought of the bruises he had left on the perfect canvas of Finrod's sun-gold skin. “For now, had you not better do what I tell you?”

“Or you shall do... what? Punish me?” There was a teasing light in Finrod's eyes, but there was no missing the hunger in his voice.

“Oh, you are just as impossible as your cousins,” Glorfindel said, though his fingers shook slightly where he still held Finrod's wrists in his grasp. “Lovely... but impossible. I might, you know!”

“Yes... you might indeed,” Finrod murmured and swallowed, yet his eyes still gleamed with lazy pleasure. “You might indeed do anything you wish... my Lord.”

“Now you are just teasing me!” Glorfindel complained, his voice trembling. “Will I truly have to make you surrender once more? I shall not be gentle this time.”

“Do not be, my Lord,” Finrod breathed, his cornflower eyes dark as the night sky as he surrendered in truth, baring the pale expanse of his throat to the youth's lips and teeth with the sensual contentment of a cat basking in the sun, and Glorfindel thought he understood then.

"I like who I am, too!" he whispered. "If it can be like this... I like this!"

"Your poor friend does not - but that does not mean that you are at fault. It might not be for him, but clearly, it is for you - and for me. And there are others, Glorfindel... 'Tis not as strange as you might think." Even when flushed with pleasure, there was wisdom and kindness in Finrod's speech, so that Glorfindel relaxed against him for a moment in gratefulness, and love.

"Finrod the wise," he then teased gently, though he held the words close to his heart and would cherish them for many ages yet to come. "Shall we see whether I can make you forget all speech? For I think what I love most is the way you moan my name..."