Flowers After Spring by ohboromir

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Flowers After Spring

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“The earth is always brightest after the spring rain, do you not agree, Master Erestor?”

Glorfindel’s pleasant tone dragged Erestor out of his musings. He had stepped away from Turgon’s party for a moment of fresh air, away from the jaunty Noldorin tunes and dancing that were still so unfamiliar to him. Erestor had spent his youth in Nevrast, in one of the many Sindarin settlements, and though he had quickly learned the tongue of these Noldor, their ways were still relatively unknown to him.

That did not mean he did not like them, though. These Noldor were intelligent and enthusiastic and … well, certain ones in particular were very handsome. Glorfindel had been his companion on many long evenings. His company was refreshing, his conversation engaging, and his manners charming. It was hard to believe sometimes that he was not officially a prince of the Noldor.

And he was not the only one to think that way. Glorfindel’s conquests were well known - half the princes of the Noldor, even Lord Turgon, allegedly - and all the rumours spoke highly of him. Erestor hated hearing them. He had no right to be jealous. They were only friends, no matter how many times they slept together. Erestor crushed his jealousy to dust and smiled.

“Indeed. I cannot wait for the flowers to bloom in earnest.” he agreed, accepting the glass of strong spirit he was offered. “Beautiful.”

“Mhm, myself, or the flowers, my friend?”

Erestor laughed. “Do not flatter yourself, Glorfindel. By Sindarin standards you are merely average. There are forty elves in my village that could beat you in any beauty contest.” He leaned against the outer wall of the keep, grey eyes turning away from the horizon to study Glorfindel.

“You wound me.” Glorfindel’s laugh was as clear as bells. Erestor snorted, taking a gulp of his drink. This was perhaps his fourth or fifth - he hadn’t been paying too much attention, enjoying the party.

 

“I wonder, then, Erestor, if your people are really all so beautiful, why are you still not married? I have heard your mother talk when she visits. She suspects anyone who spends more than an hour in your company is your secret fiancé.”

“None have caught my interest.” he said, “I enjoy a little fun here and there, as much as any other, but marriage seems quite unappealing. To tie myself to one person, when we have all eternity in front of us? How dull.”

Something dark flashed in Glorfindel’s eyes, his grip on his glass tightening, stance shifting. Erestor knew what that look suggested. He took another sip of his drink to steady himself. No need to rush into anything. He adjusted his own posture, loosening the collar of his tunic.

“You like to have fun, Master Erestor.”

Erestor’s heart rate spiked. “I do.”

“Perhaps…” The corner of Glorfindel’s lips turned up in a smile. This was one of his favoured games; to pretend he had to charm Erestor into bed, even if Erestor would have stripped right here if he had suggested it. “Perhaps you would like to have some fun with me.”

“Ah, Lord Glorfindel, I thought you would never ask.”

Erestor down the last of his drink in one go, abandoning the glass on the windowsill as he grasped Glorfindel by the front of his shirt, pulling him down into a kiss. He chased the taste of whiskey on his lips, delving into his mouth, bold. If he was representing all Sindar, he would make sure Glorfindel never looked at them the same way.

As he pulled back, Glorfindel laughed softly against his lips, large hands circling Erestor’s hips. He’d forever deny how safe that made him feel.

“Perhaps we should move somewhere more private.”

 

The journey back to Glorfindel’s rooms was a blur. Erestor wasn't ashamed to admit that he knew the journey with his eyes closed.

The next thing he was really remembered was Glorfindel pulling him down onto his lap, those large, warm hands pushing under his shirt. Erestor quickly shrugged the whole thing off. A calloused thumb rolled over his nipple and Erestor whined softly, leaning down for a clumsy kiss.

"You are wearing far too many clothes." he complained, as he struggled with the buttons on Glorfindel’s shirt. It did not help the burning heat in his groin. Unclothed, he was magnificent. No matter how many times Erestor saw him like this, he was always struck by how perfect Glorfindel was. There was not a single flaw in him that Erestor did not adore.

The rest of their clothes were quickly shed, replaced by hungry hands and hungrier mouths. There was no pretext of sentimentality and that was how Erestor liked it. It helped keep the strange, almost painful longing he felt when he saw Glorfindel at bay. One day, he knew he would have to face that feeling. But not now.

Two slick fingers pressed against his entrance, a silent question. In answer, Erestor pushed back against them - he enjoyed letting Glorfindel have this control, but that didn't mean he let him get away with this teasing.

"So good for me, sweet Erestor."

Those words made Erestor even more lightheaded, his hand pumping his own cock clumsy and over eager. Glorfindel added another finger, then another, punctuating each with more sweet words and taunting kisses, wringing such a cacophony of noises from Erestor that anyone who could hear them would have thought he had two partners, not one.

"You have to tell me what you want. Use your words. I know you can, my clever bird."

Erestor mumbled an incoherent reply, grinding down against Glorfindel’s bare crotch.

 

"Say it. Tell me how much you want to ride my cock. Tell me how badly you need me."

Erestor's flushed deepened to crimson, and he gasped: "Please, Glorfindel. I need your cock. Please, fuck me. Let me ride your cock. Glorfindel. Please."

Erestor suspected he would have given in no matter what he said, considering how hard he was, but to see the lust flash in his eyes was worth it. Carefully, Glorfindel helped Erestor raise his hips and angle himself, and then slowly sink down on his cock.

"Ah, fuck, Erestor..." Glorfindel closed his eyes as Erestor took him to the hilt. "You're so good. Every time. Fuck, you are perfect."

Erestor's cock jumped at those words, a sense of smug pride rising in his chest. He could reduce Glorfindel to babbling just as much as Glorfindel could him.

Without any need for encouragement, he started to fuck himself on Glorfindel’s cock, riding him with the wild desire that had been burning inside him.

"That's it, Erestor, Valar, you are such a desperate little thing." Glorfindel goaded him on, nails digging into Erestor's thigh. "I wonder how many others have thought of you like this, when they see you looking all sweet and proper in your robes." He slid his hand up his thigh to Erestor's cock, curling around it and pumping in time with Erestor's movement. "My wild little Sinda. Not so proper now, are you? Come for me. Let me see you undone." And he expertly brushed the pad of his thumb over the tip of Erestor's cock, just how he knew he liked.

Erestor wailed as he came, slamming himself down on Glorfindel’s lap, and his reward was Glorfindel’s guttural moan as he spilled inside him too, the pair of them joined for that brief moment in their ecstasy.

"Good boy." Glorfindel praised, breathless but amused, as he lounged back in the seat, his clean hand running through Erestor's undone braid.

 

As the world slowly reformed around them, Erestor flopped forward, lying against Glorfindel’s chest, and not caring for the sticky mess between them. They could clean that up later. After their next round.

"And you always claim you don't like riding." he teased. Erestor laughed weakly.

"Are you comparing yourself to my horse, Glorfindel? Come now, that is unkind. Horses are far more charming."

Glorfindel’s reply was a biting kiss, and they continued that way until morning.

-

The marshes of Nevrast stretched out before them, wide rolling hills thick with fog. Erestor pulled his riding coat tighter around him. He did not like riding. It made him anxious, and frankly, he was sure this horse had it out for him. But he also knew it was a great honour to be invited on one of Lord’s Turgon’s hunting trip, and he would not refuse. At least he had Glorfindel for company. It could be worse.

“Stay by my side, Master Erestor. I will look after you.” Glorfindel rode up beside him, as they waited for Turgon to lead the hunt.

“Lord Glorfindel, I do not need a chaperone. I am not a child.” But the gesture was sweet enough that he was willing to tolerate the teasing that came with it. “Very well. But I would wager I know the land better than you, my noble friend. It is my home, is it not?”

“Come now, Erestor, we all know you hardly strayed further than the edge of your village if you could help it.”

Erestor laughed; it was true, he was not the adventurous type. He was as easily lost in these wilds as anyone else.

Turgon’s horn blew, and the hunters gathered, and then they were streaming out through the gates, out into the wide marshes of Erestor’s homeland.

Encircled by mountains, Nevrast was a vast expanse of marshland, tall grass swaying in the wind, patches of drier ground and forest scattered over the landscape. Erestor's village was three days' ride east, nearer to Lake Linaewen, but the party headed north, where the swamps gave way to open plains, where deer and other game came to feast.

Erestor stayed close to Glorfindel, as the pack split into small groups, and eventually it was the two of them and Ecthelion picking their way through a patch of forest, Glorfindel taking point and Ecthelion bringing up the rear. The branches hung over them like the arches of Vinyamar, decorated in drapes of moss and vines. It had slowed them considerably, but at least they were out of the rain for a while. Erestor sighed and shifted in his saddle. This was why he hated riding; most of the time it was dull and soggy and messy. Though he did have a nice view of Glorfindel’s hair, the waves of Valinorean gold tumbling down his back. Glorfindel almost never wore it up - at most, Erestor had seen the front sections adorned and braided for special occasions. Erestor didn’t know how he coped; his own hair constantly got in his way.

Erestor’s mind drifted. Glorfindel’s hair was like silk over his skin, brushing against him when he leaned over Erestor, smooth and soft and…

He did not see the snake in the path. The horse, that damned creature, did. It reared and a startled Erestor instinctively tugged on the reins as he fell, fortunate enough to land safely in a pile of leaves. The horse charged forward, frightening Glorfindel’s horse, and the golden lord was not as lucky. Glorfindel yelped, sent flying back into the ditches behind them, the thud followed by a shout of pain. Erestor picked himself up and hurried over, scrambling over the slick undergrowth.

“Glorfindel!”

 

“Easy, Erestor. I am alright.” He was very clearly not. Erestor eyed the swelling of his knee. It looked painful, even under Glorfindel’s clothes.

“You aren’t. Let me see. I can help.” Erestor insisted, helping Glorfindel sit up and shuffle back against a tree. Ecthelion appeared over the edge of the ditch.

“The horses ran off,” he said, throwing his cloak down to them. “I can’t take both of you back with me - Glorfindel, don't even try to walk on that leg, you’ll make it worse, and Turukáno will be furious.”

“But - “

“No.” Erestor interrupted, “He’s right, Glorfindel. I’ll stay with you.” It was the least he could do. “Lord Ecthelion will get help. It’ll be faster if he goes alone.”

Ecthelion did not stay to listen to Glorfindel’s arguments, the sound of hooves fading into the distance. Erestor sighed and adjusted the cloak across Glorfindel’s lap.

“I am sorry. I should have been paying more attention.”

"No, no, Erestor, it is not. It was an accident." Glorfindel refused all his protests and Erestor eventually gave up, leaning back against the rough bark of the trunk.

But the peaceful silence that had fallen between them did not last long. Erestor had always had sharp eyes - his mother had named him for it, as a child - and he did not miss the restless fidgeting, the noble brow furrowed, the beads of sweat. He turned back to kneel beside his companion.

"Let me at least have a look at it. I am no healer, but you are very much not fine, Glorfindel."

 

Glorfindel grit his teeth, yet nodded, pulling back the cloak he had been using as a blanket. Erestor grimaced. The swelling was worse. Hopelessly out of depth, he cut away the fabric with Glorfindel’s hunting knife, the skin beneath just as bruised and red as he had expected. What was it that Naneth always used for swelling?

He scanned the undergrowth around them. The bright yellow flowers were in stark contrast to the damp earth, and he plucked two, before deciding to pick a third just in case. He did not remember how much his mother used to use - but he untied Glorfindel’s leather bracer to use as a bowl, crushed the plants with his fist, and then, with a rock and a little water from his flask, began grinding it into a paste.

“My mother always used this when I was hurt. It should help a little.”

Glorfindel looked up at him. Erestor would never forget that look. Behind the haze of pain, there was something so moving in those blue eyes. Perhaps it was the light of the fabled Trees, perhaps it was Glorfindel’s own noble nature, but it made Erestor’s heart rise in his throat. He could deny himself no longer; he was in love with Glorfindel.

“Thank you, my friend.” Glorfindel rasped, and Erestor pushed his feelings aside. What they had already was almost perfect. Romance would ruin it.

“Don’t be a fool. Anything for you.”

Sitting back down, he let Glorfindel rest his head on his shoulder. How he wished he could comb his fingers through that hair, how he wished he could hold Glorfindel in his arms and soothe those pains with tender kisses. But Glorfindel did not want that. He was not a shy elf. If he had seen Erestor in that way, he would have said so. And so, the night passed. Rescue came, and Glorfindel was borne away to see the healers, and life resumed, as if Erestor had not been shaken to his very bones.

-

For the most part, life continued as it always had. Winter grew over the world, as the Shadow and the Enemy advanced, as more dreadful battles were waged. But in Vinyamar, Erestor’s battle remained private. He still always accepted when Glorfindel offered his company, but the ache in his heart grew all consuming. He needed advice. Some space away from the object of his desires.

His goodbyes were brief - he would be gone a season, perhaps two, and what was that to elven kind? A trip to his village, to visit his parents. No one found it strange.

What was strange was the Vinyamar he returned to.

Empty. Desolate. Dust had settled in the bones of the city, though there was little left for it to cling to. Only that which could not be carried, and in the hall, a helm and set of mail, the shield marked by a swan's wing. Erestor left that alone. It had a dark air to it that he did not like.

He searched the whole city. Not a single note, no letter, no mislaid document. Nothing to say where they had gone. Glorfindel’s rooms, once familiar, now were alien and cold. A new feeling settled over him - like grief, but unrealised, tainted with foreboding. He knew then that if he saw Glorfindel - or anyone from this city again - it would not be for a long time, even in elven reckoning.

And he was right.

Time waged on, as did the war. Erestor avoided most of it, moving to Doriath when Nevrast became more dangerous, to Sirion when Doriath was no more. There, he heard the tale. The Hidden City. Murder. Betrayal. The massacre of Gondolin's warriors.

Glorfindel. Bright, shining Lord Glorfindel of the Golden Flower, who helped his people out of danger as his friends died around him. Brave Lord Glorfindel, who bested the balrog on a cliff's edge. Broken Lord Glorfindel, whose body was retrieved by Thorondor, and lay in a cairn covered in bright flora.

Erestor's heartbroken that day. He did not weep. Tears were too simple. The war had always been real, always dangerous, but now for the first time, it felt hopeless. What world could there be afterwards if elves like Glorfindel were lost? What would there be for him, but loneliness and grief? He had lost his parents, his village, Doriath - now the one elf he had ever dared to love.

But the grief would not overcome him. He may have been only a scholar, a common elf, but he was as resilient as an elf lord of legend.

The future would not be kind to him. Sirion would fall soon. He would make his home in Lindon, and there, he would forge a great friendship with Gil-Galad and his herald, Elrond of the line of Lúthien. He would renew his acquaintance with Celeborn of Doriath and Galadriel, who had much wisdom to share with him.

But the Shadow devoured that life too. Eregion fell. The Rings were tainted and hidden. Gil-Galad was lost.

Still, Erestor remained.

-

Imladris had been a good home to him. Lord Elrond was kind and wise, always willing to listen to Erestor’s advice, and his position here was one of status and responsibility. He had friends, comfort, and work to keep him busy. For the most part, it kept his mind off the past, off of war and ruin and devastation.

The day that changed it all, he was sitting on the library balcony. His assistant, a fresh-faced young scribe, noticed it first. She clutched her bundle of papers to her chest as she leaned over the balcony. A party riding through the gates on horseback, Elrond hurrying down the steps to meet them.

“He must have known they were coming, Councillor. He hardly looks startled.” Always so perceptive. She would make an excellent scholar one day.

 

When Erestor followed her gaze, his heart stopped. Three Ages could not change his memory of that face, the face that had haunted him since that cold night in the forests of Nevrast. Even if it had, no one who had ever seen it could forget that hair. Glistening in the morning sun, brighter than the dawn. Glorfindel.

“Councillor?” His assistant laid a small hand on his arm, “Are you alright? You’ve gone quite pale. Perhaps you should sit down.”

Erestor remembered how to breathe. “Yes, yes, thank you. You should go and make sure rooms are made up for our new guests.” He watched her hurry away, relieved to be alone. If he had not been so certain that the Valar would never give him such a kind dream, he would not have believed this to be real. His heart clenched; joy tainted by the memory of grief. Would he now have to bear his secret heartbreak in the presence of the breaker?

No. He couldn’t deal with this today. Without waiting for his poor assistant to return, he hurried back to his room and locked the door.

But this self-imposed exile barely lasted the day. The sun had only just begun her descent when Erestor changed his mind. The desperate desire of his younger self to see Glorfindel won out.

It was easy to figure out where Glorfindel would be. The whole valley was talking about their new arrival. A few words with one of the elves in charge of hospitality, and Erestor was striding up the stairs like a warrior riding out to battle.

I only need to see him. To be sure it is him. But he already was.

No feelings. I want to know if we are still friends. As if he could hide how just the thought of him made his heart riot.

His hands were shaking as he reached to knock on the door. He took a moment, two, three, to steady himself. I am Chief Councillor of Imladris. I will not be defeated by a centuries old crush.

He knocked. A familiar voice called for him to come in. He did, letting the door shut behind him.

"Lord Glorfindel. All of the faces I expected to see today, yours was the last."

Glorfindel turned to look at him. His eyes were wide, lips parted in a way that drew Erestor's eyes to them, his hands frozen as if he had been the one who was looking at a ghost.

"Erestor! When I heard Elrond say your name, I thought… hoped… Valar, I have missed you!"

Erestor stared at him, throat dry. Glorfindel took a step towards him. The air was heavy. Erestor felt words spill out of his mouth, but all he could hear was his blood in his ears.

"I know it has been a long time, and our friendship was… unconventional. But when I saw you riding in this morning, I hoped we might begin again, proper friends, this time."

A pale eyebrow arched and Glorfindel did not move any closer.

"Proper friends?"

"Yes."

"Was friendship all it was to you, Councillor Erestor?"

Erestor swallowed. "That is what it was to you."

The air lightened. Glorfindel laughed. Erestor frowned, but before he could speak, Glorfindel closed the space between them and pushed him back against the wall. His lips tasted of sea and sweat, but it was the most divine taste Erestor could ever have imagined. Glorfindel’s hands were on his hips again, enfolding him, treasuring him. Their relieved tears mingled on Erestor's face, and as Glorfindel pulled away, Erestor held him in place by his shirt.

"Glorfindel, I-."

"No, let me speak." Glorfindel insisted, "If I do not tell you now, I will lose my nerve, and we will spend another hundred years dancing around each other. I love you, Erestor. I have loved you since that night you tended my wound in Nevrast. Longer, but I did not know it then. Parting from you when I went to Gondolin was one of the greatest sorrows of my life. I regret that I never had the courage to tell you, that I assumed you would prefer to remain friends only. But now, now that I see you again - " he rambled.

"Glorfindel, I love you." Erestor interrupted. "I have loved you all my life."

And then they were laughing, crying, a joy that burst up like the flowers in spring. The longest winter of their lives was over. The spring was here again and this time, they would not be parted. There would be more trials, more despair, more evil to bear arms against, but this time, they would face it together.