Timing Is Everything

Timing Is Everything

Posted: March 31, 2006
Title: Timing is Everything
Author: Elohir Mornedhel
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Glorfindel
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Alas I own them not. They belong to the Tolkein estate and respective copyright holders.
Timeline: none
Warnings: slash m/m, graphic depiction of homoerotic acts between consenting male adults.
Beta: Patricia - Thank you :D
Summary: Glorfindel learns love is found where he least expects it.
Author's Notes: This is the first multi-part piece that I've completed.

*****

Prologue

Everything was gray and cloaked with mist. As he passed through the main hall, he could see the columns forming out of the fog. It was here that he waited, where they all waited. Every elf that had ever died by fatal wound or grief-stricken heart came here... to the Halls of Waiting.

And so it was for Glorfindel, Captain of the House of the Golden Flower as well. At any other time, these columns and enshrouding mist gave the comfort of numbness, of forgetfulness, but this time, they did not. Glorfindel had been summoned before the lord of these halls, Námo, the Doomsman of the Valar.

"Come forth, Glorfindel," the deep voice spoke from the shadows at the opposite end of the hall.

He obeyed the command, moving to stand before the solemn Vala. He bowed his head and dropped to one knee in deference to the being before him. All the while, curiosity burned within him. However, if there was one thing Glorfindel had learned in his many trials, from the crossing of the ice to his final battle with the Balrog, it was to wait. All would be revealed in due time

"Rise, Lord Glorfindel," Námo commanded. Once the Elda had risen, he continued. "You came to my halls surrounded in flame and shadow."

"Yes, My Lord."

"You have been here many centuries yet the... peacefulness of my realm does not surround you. Why is that, Glorfindel?"

"I do not know, My Lord," Glorfindel answered.

"It is because you do not wish to be at peace, son of Gondolin. Inside your heart, the pain of your losses still burns you. Even in these halls, you cannot bear to be near flames. What am I to do about that?"

"I do not know, My Lord," Glorfindel answered again.

"It is time," Námo said, rising to his feet. He motioned to someone in the back of the hall. "This I decree, Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower, son of Gondolin. You will be returned to Arda. There your peace shall be found. Use this chance wisely."

"But," Glorfindel protested, "You cannot send me back."

"I cannot?" Námo raised one dark eyebrow.

"I do not deserve it, My Lord," Glorfindel cried. "I failed my house, failed my city...failed my people!"

"There are those within my halls who will never again see the fields of Arda let alone the white shores. Long ago, they repented their mistakes and forgave themselves for their errors. You, Glorfindel, have not. This you must learn and it cannot be done here. I am returning you. It is a second chance, Glorfindel, and I am not giving you any choice."

Námo nodded to his cousin. The other Vala placed his hand on Glorfindel's shoulder even as the warrior would protest further. He drew the elf from Mandos' great hall and towards the rivers surrounding this realm. Only in them could the journey be made.

"But I am not worthy," Glorfindel repeated. "I am not."

"Námo is wise. Trust in his judgment," Ulmö encouraged as he drew Glorfindel into the water. "In fire you passed into his realm, in water shall you leave it."

He drew Glorfindel beneath the waves. After a brief struggle born of fear rather than any real danger, the elf passed into unconsciousness. Ulmö carried him back into the realm of the living, to Arda.

*****

Chapter 1

"He is so beautiful," a voice whispered.

"Oh yes... bright like the Sun," came another voice.

"Do you not have duties to attend to?" Erestor said sharply from behind the two pages huddled by one of the windows. So absorbed in their chatter, they had not heard him come up behind them. They jumped and turned around. Guiltily, they bowed their heads before the disapproving look of Lord Erestor.

"We are sorry, my Lord," the first said, tugging on his companion's arm as they backed down the hall.

"We will return to them right away," the other answered.

"See that you do," Erestor said sharply. "Do not let me catch you dawdling like this again."

"Oh no, my Lord," they said in unison before turning to scurry down the hall.

"Erestor," Elrond asked in an amused voice, "Must you scare the staff like that?"

"Only when they are not attending to their responsibilities as they should," Erestor turned to his Lord. He looked out the window at the object of the pages' obsession and was not surprised to see Lord Glorfindel passing a moment on a garden bench. Though he sat there in what appeared to be peacefulness, Erestor could tell he was anything but at peace.

"He is beautiful," Elrond commented. "I can see why they would stare."

"They are not the only ones," Erestor grumbled. "He simply has to walk into a room and all eyes seem drawn to him. The soldiers all jump to do his bidding without question. The maids swoon and the ellyn (pl. m. elves) practically throw themselves at him."

"If I were not already happily married," Elrond chuckled, "I would throw myself at him, too. Alas, Celebrían would have my head."

"Both of them," Erestor added cheekily.

"Most assuredly," Elrond laughed.

"He is not happy," Erestor said softly. "I do not know how I know, for he wears a smile readily enough, but I know he is not."

"It has only been two centuries since he arrived here, Erestor," Elrond said as they walked down the hallway towards the library. "It may take longer to adjust once one has returned from the Halls of Waiting."

"It seems our staff have an equally difficult time adjusting to his presence," Erestor said wryly. "They look upon him as if he were a Vala come to live among us. To them, he is a hero, set high on a pedestal... and those are the ones that have SOME respect for him."

"Are you implying others do not?" Elrond asked, holding the door for his chief advisor.

"It was disgusting really," Erestor muttered. "The other day, I entered the library only to overhear a most...inappropriate conversation between Lindir and one of the visiting Lothlorien elves. "

"Continue," Elrond encouraged as they sat down at their respective desks. "I take it the topic of conversation was Glorfindel?"

"Not so much him as a part of him," Erestor said, blushing softly as he remembered the particularly detailed description of Glorfindel's anatomy. He blushed further as Elrond's eyebrows shot to his hairline.

"Tell me they were not," he said.

"Yes, they were...in great detail," Erestor said in a hushed tone. "They made him out to be as a bull being considered for breeding. Once Lindir began describing Glorfindel's.... prowess in the bedchamber, I left."

"Why did it upset you so, meldir (m. friend)?" Elrond asked.

"Because, Elrond, those things should be kept private out of respect for the other, if not out of love for them," Erestor said firmly. Though he had lived nearly as long as Lord Glorfindel, Erestor kept his private life exactly that, private. He did not discuss his lovers with any other person. He respected them too much, cherished the comfort and pleasure they had given him too much to tarnish it with such indiscretions.

"The one who finally earns your heart will be a lucky elf, Erestor," Elrond smiled. "I have heard some of the rumors and stories circulating about Glorfindel. They are quite...explicit."

"Exactly. He does not need that kind of notoriety. What he needs, Elrond, is someone who wants him and not just his body, as glorious as it is," Erestor said. "He needs someone who does not look at him as a prize to be won or a trophy to be bandied about among the entire house."

"Then why do you not court him?" Elrond asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes at Erestor. "You have obviously given it quite a bit of thought."

"Have you bothered to LOOK at the type of people Glorfindel shows interest in?" Erestor asked dryly, laying down the quill he had been using to write as he spoke with Elrond. Erestor was a master at multi-tasking.

"Not really," Elrond said as he studied his companion. Erestor was quite lovely. His hair fell about his shoulders and hips in inky black waves. Elrond knew from experience that it was softer than silk. He also knew that Erestor's skin, a lovely pale peach, was that shade all over. Yet, his eyes were his most striking feature. Intelligent, insightful and wise; Erestor's green eyes pierced your very soul when he chose to focus his entire, considerable attention on you. They were eyes one could drown in.

The councilor had been a warrior many centuries ago but did not have the bulky build of a career soldier. Instead he was lean and lithe, his frame slender but firm. He maintained his quick reflexes with daily exercise as well as his prowess in combat. Most saw him as only a councilor, a scribe and scholar. They did not know him to be the accomplished fighter that he was. It was one of Erestor's best-kept secrets.

"They are all blond, Elrond, blond and strongly built. Even Lindir has more weight on his bones than I do, though he no longer carries a sword either. Male or female, not one of them is dark like me," Erestor said. "No, Glorfindel would not be interested in one such as I me."

"Are you so sure, meldir (m. friend)?" Elrond smiled.

"Positive," Erestor answered firmly. "Besides, I have no desire to make a fool of myself when he turns me down flat. In addition, every time we have spoken, it was as if he could not get away fast enough. His words were clipped and without any...warmth or congeniality. I do not think Lord Glorfindel likes me, not one little bit. I would disrespect his wishes by pursuing him in any such manner."

"But Erestor... " Elrond began.

"Please, Elrond, let us drop the subject. Nothing will ever happen between Lord Glorfindel and me."

*****

Chapter 2

Glorfindel sighed as he stared out over the valley. One leg dangled over the edge of the balcony while the other supported the weight of his left arm. He leaned his head back against the stone with another sigh. The sun had just begun to set and its light gilded his bare skin, making the gold of his hair flare like the flames of a fire as it tumbled over his shoulder and down his chest. His feet were bare and his leggings only half-laced. In his disarray, he made an incredibly tempting sight.

He knew this was all they wanted, his broad shoulders, massive chest and muscled arms. They wanted the long sun-gold hair and sapphire eyes. They sought the taut muscles and the strong legs. Their main goal, however, was the note-worthy shaft resting between his legs and his ability to use it well. They did not yearn for Glorfindel, not one of them.

No one left his bed unsatisfied. No one save Glorfindel, that is. He wanted more, but knew he did not deserve it. Therefore, he took lovers, shared his body as he was unable to share his heart. He took precautions, too, never a brunette, never one with piercing eyes or pale flawless skin. He would not let such a being be his downfall a second time, but oh, how the Valar tempted him.

One walked the halls that was everything Glorfindel desired. This one came just that close to Glorfindel's six and a half foot height. His eyes caught and held the Balrog Slayer fast, spinning deep, drowning in them. His body made Glorfindel's fingers itch to touch, to caress, and to draw moans of pleasure from his full lips. He wanted to feel that lithe body writhing beneath him, over him, surrounding him as he thrust deep inside him.

As much as Glorfindel wanted him, he denied himself all but one thing. He could not refuse himself the sheer pleasure of watching Lord Erestor in the mornings and evenings. He could not resist seeing the fluid motions of that perfect body as it moved, practicing the art of hand to hand combat in the dawn and dusk hours. Though he remained hidden, he watched every movement, every gesture those long slender hands made, every motion of those legs, legs that Glorfindel ached to have wrapped around his waist.

Yet it was those eyes, those eyes and that lilting husky voice that brought to mind dark sultry nights filled with passion. He could not stand to hear that voice for more than a few moments. It made his body burn just to hear it, to feel it caressing his ears. Yes, Glorfindel was lost once more, lost in a dark beauty that held his broken heart. Lost to one he could never and would never allow himself to have.

Glorfindel chuckled wryly as his body stirred, coming to full hardness in moments with just the mere thought of Erestor. His appetites had not changed from one life to the next. They were strong, energetic and nigh insatiable. However, Lindir had gone to prepare for the evening meal and so Glorfindel was left to fend for himself. So be it; he should bathe before going down to join Elrond and the others for dinner anyway.

Padding silently into his bath chamber, unbraiding his hair as he went, Glorfindel shucked his midnight blue leggings easily. Tossing them aside, he filled the large round marble tub and quickly sank beneath its surface. It was the only way to get his hair completely wet all at once and he relished the floating sensation.

After washing his hair, he leaned back against the curved edge of the tub, closing his eyes and stretching one strong arm along the rim. His other hand moved slowly over his chest, teasing first one nipple and then the other into hard points. All the while, images of Erestor danced through his mind. He imagined slowly stripping the Councilor, baring that beautiful body to his hungry gaze. He pictured how he would lick and kiss every inch of his smooth skin until Erestor begged him to stop, implored him to do more. Slowly Glorfindel's hand slid down to wrap around his impressive length, stroking leisurely as he imagined claiming the chief Advisor. Would Erestor be wanton or passive? Would he demand or submit? Glorfindel pictured him as one who would give as much as receive. His hand moved faster and faster on his shaft, the pleasure building as he pictured his cock buried deep inside Erestor's sweet derriere. He would be tight; somehow, Glorfindel knew that.

Suddenly the golden warrior arched, his body jerking in pleasure as he peaked, his mind showing him images of Erestor crying out in ecstasy. His breath came in short pants and his hand continued to move as he slowly milked himself dry. Collapsing back into the water, he lazily reached for soap and a cloth to clean himself with. Dreaming was as close as he would ever get to claiming Erestor; only in his mind's eye.

Glorfindel walked into the Hall of Fire a mere half hour later. His hair pulled back once again in warrior braids and his black leggings, cream colored shirt and cerulean tunic impeccably arranged; he caught the attention of everyone in the room. A small sigh escaped him. Why did they always make him feel as if he were up for auction or some such thing? He was just Glorfindel, just a soldier in Lord Elrond's house. There was nothing special about him. Well, unless you counted the folly that cost him his city and then his life.

He noted that Lindir had chosen to sit with the other minstrels that night and found he was not overly bothered by the fact. The harpist had become a bit...possessive of late. Glorfindel knew they would have to part ways soon. He just hoped it would be an amicable separation. With a sigh, he took his seat to Elrond's right.

This was the hardest part of his day. In the Hall of Fire, he sat to one side of the Lord of Imladris, but on the other sat Lord Erestor. This placed the elf directly across the table from Glorfindel. He worked hard to maintain a nonchalant attitude but it was not easy. Erestor's beauty kept drawing his eye and he had to remind himself not to stare openly.

The Councilor was clad in deep burgundy this night. He had chosen to pull back only the top portion of his hair into a simple braid. Instead of his formal robes, he wore tunic and leggings, revealing his slender frame and inadvertently making Glorfindel's mouth water. It was going to be a VERY long meal.

"Good evening, Lord Glorfindel," Elrond said with a smile. "How are you this evening?"

"I am well, Lord Elrond," he answered quietly.

"That is good to hear. Erestor and I were going over your quarterly reports earlier today."

"Was there anything amiss?" Glorfindel looked from one to the other. Then he wracked his brain trying to remember every detail he had noted in his paperwork. Unfortunately, his mind was more interested in noting every detail of Erestor's appearance instead.

"No, My Lord," Erestor answered, his voice a sweet whisper in Glorfindel's ear. The Balrog Slayer fought hard to contain a shiver of pleasure. "They were precise, as always. I merely questioned the period for training the new recruits."

"I reviewed each trainee myself, Lord Erestor," Glorfindel answered tightly. "The time period given is a rough average. It would require some of them to train harder in areas where they are weakest. In all honesty, our soldiers are strong in sword work but would benefit significantly from greater instruction in archery. I would prefer they slay the orcs at a distance than having to be up close with the filthy creatures."

"I'd rather they not have to fight them at all," Elrond muttered as he watched the exchange between his two closest friends. There was a fire in Glorfindel's eyes as he stared at Erestor, yes, but Elrond did not think it stemmed from dislike. On the contrary, he thought it was quite the opposite.

"I agree most whole heartedly, Elrond," Erestor said as he tore his eyes away from the deep sapphire gaze burning across the table from him. He cursed silently as he felt a flush heat his cheeks. Glorfindel's gaze was so intense, so...intimate. It made you feel as if you were the only elf in the world.

"Perhaps we should discuss the issue further then?" Elrond asked, looking from one to the other.

Glorfindel tried to control the expressions on his face. Yet, he felt as if his desires were plain for the entire hall to see. He had relished the flush of color on Erestor's cheeks, wondered if it went all the way down his delectable body.

"I think that would be wise," he said softly, trying to distract himself.

"Yes," Erestor answered, "Perhaps we can draft an agreement to present to either Lothlórien or Greenwood."

The Councilor felt as if his body were on fire. Glorfindel's gaze...the heat in his eyes, set his body humming. It almost made Erestor self-conscious. He could not hold those sapphire eyes more than a few moments before another blush tinged his cheeks. Glorfindel made him ache, made him want something he could not have. Each night, he dreamed of the golden haired warrior. Dreams of making love to the sun kissed ellon (m. elf), of mutual desire and of intoxicating pleasure. Each morning, Erestor woke up aching, frustrated and in need of a cold bath.

Glorfindel was the reason he had not taken a lover in years. He would not use another to slake his lust for the warrior. However, his noble intentions, and his fear of rejection, were wearing thin. His work was beginning to suffer and that was something Erestor could not tolerate. He would have to do something about his situation and soon.

The strains of music floated through the air. Erestor turned his head to see Lindir sitting at his harp. Blue eyes bore into green and the musician did not look amused. For a moment, Erestor was confused. Then he turned back around and saw Glorfindel's eyes on him.

Everyone knew Lindir was Glorfindel's lover. The musician had made sure of that, staking his claim boldly and without discretion. Was it not Lindir Erestor had overheard extolling Glorfindel's dimensions and prowess? Lindir usually sat next to Glorfindel at evening meals. Why had he not taken his usual seat this night? Had the two, perhaps, argued earlier in the day? Erestor's eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated the significance of these facts.

Haunting music filled the Hall of Fire, silencing all conversation. There was no doubt that Lindir was an extremely talented musician. His music flowed with emotion and intensity. He used that now, filling the strains with the things he was feeling at that moment. All was clear to him and he felt the fool. Yet, he could not blame either of them. Glorfindel, with his fierce passion and Erestor with his gentle humility, they were well suited to each other. Oh, Lindir was hurt but he knew, deep inside, that he could never have claimed anything other than Glorfindel's body. Nevertheless, he had wished for more. All this he poured into his music and resolutely vowed to see the two together and happy.

*****

Chapter 3

Elrond stared up at Ithil, floating pale and beautiful, in the night sky. He looked for his father's star. Always, when he was troubled or doubtful, he searched for that beloved star.

"What troubles you, my love?" Celebrian asked as she wrapped her arms around her husband.

"Erestor and Glorfindel," he said honestly. He never lied to his wife, not only was it not in his nature to do so, but it was pointless. She was, after all, the daughter of Galadriel.

"They are well suited," she answered, resting her head against his shoulder. "Yet they are...resistant."

"I see you have thought on this, meleth (love)," he chuckled.

"Most definitely," she smiled. "Glorfindel always seems so sad, Elrond, sad and alone. But when he looks at Erestor there is such fire in his eyes."

"In Erestor's there is...gentle love," Elrond mused. "He sees Glorfindel, not the Balrog Slayer, not a Hero of the First Age, just Glorfindel. Just this afternoon he was telling me what he thought Glorfindel needed in a lover."

"He needs one who wants the fëa (spirit) inside that incredible body," Celebrían agreed as she pulled her husband back into their chambers.

"Incredible, hmm?" Elrond raised his eyebrow as he looked at his wife.

"I thought that might get your attention," she chuckled softly. "There is only one body in all of Arda I want, melethen (my love), and inside it rests your fëa (spirit), gûr-e-gûren (heart of my heart)."

"Ah, so you attempt to make me jealous; is that it?" he growled. Rushing forward, he scooped his wife up into his arms and carried her to their chambers. "If it is my body you want, meleth (love), then it is my body you shall have."

"How perfectly wicked of you," she purred.

~~~

Erestor strolled quietly through the gardens. The night was his favorite time. Everything was quiet. He could hear himself think and he had much to consider. The way Glorfindel had watched him during dinner for one and the way it had made him feel for two. His desire for the warrior was getting a bit out of hand.

After his conversation with Elrond that afternoon, he had caught himself daydreaming. It was not a good thing. He was clearly not the golden elf's type with his dark hair and lithe build. If he approached the warrior, he would be turned down, if not laughed at. It was a most uncomfortable thought.

Walking with his head down and his mind spinning with his thoughts, Erestor was unaware of his surroundings. Unaware, that is, until he bumped into a solid figure. Strong arms caught him as he stumbled. His hands shot forward to grip muscular forearms. He gasped as he was easily held on his feet, against a broad warm chest. Gasping, his head shot up and he stared into Glorfindel's face.

"Erestor," the golden warrior whispered.

"G...good evening, Lord Glorfindel," he whispered back. His body trembled from head to toe as heat flooded through him.

"Do you often watch the ground when you are walking?" Glorfindel asked. Erestor flushed.

"No, not usually," he breathed. "I...was a bit lost in thought."

"And what thought consumes you so?" Glorfindel asked.

"You," came Erestor's breathless answer. Immediately the councilor covered his mouth. He couldn't believe he had just said that.

"Me?"

"I...must go," Erestor said, struggling to pull himself free of the seneschal's grip. "Please release me."

"No," Glorfindel answered. "Why do you think of me, Erestor?"

"Glorfindel let me go. I mean it."

"Erestor... " Glorfindel warned. Before he could say any more, the councilor twisted his body and hip tossed the Balrog Slayer. He paused only a moment to consider the temerity of his act but then hurried away. He HAD asked Glorfindel to release him.

Rushing back to his rooms, he quickly locked the door behind him. What in the world had possessed him to answer as he had? Sitting on his bed, he covered his face with his hands. He could not draw back his words now and it would make dealing with Glorfindel a bit...awkward. He was a fool to say such a thing. What would the seneschal think of him? He knew what he would think. Glorfindel would assume he was like all the others, only interested in the his body and what he could do with it. However, that wasn't the ONLY thing Erestor wanted. He knew it now. He wanted Glorfindel's heart, his love.

"I am beyond a fool," he whispered. "He could never be interested in one such as I."

~~~

Glorfindel stared up at the night sky. For a moment, he was stunned. Then he felt something welling from deep within him. A strange sensation rolled up from his stomach into his chest and out his mouth. He laughed. Not a forced laugh, nor a wry laugh, but rather a full honest belly laugh. It rang through the valley, a deep bell-like sound not heard in thousands of years, for Glorfindel had found no reason to laugh in all that time.

Not a single person in all of Imladris, save perhaps Elrond, would have dared such a thing. If anything, their treatment of him over the centuries had been reverent. This night Erestor had tossed him on his ass. Something broke within him and he continued to laugh, his arms thrown out to his side and his hair spilling about him in the grass.

Joy welled within him and it made him pause. Taking a calming breath, he let his mind mull over the event. In all their dealings, Erestor had been nothing but polite and respectful. He had not fawned over Glorfindel. Thinking back, he realized that Erestor treated everyone that way, lord, lady or household staff. He was kind to everyone.

Jumping to his feet, he walked back to his chambers, still chuckling. Stripping off his tunic, he turned only to find Lindir sitting on the bed. The minstrel sat with his hands neatly folded in his lap. He looked calm and serene.

"You have grass in your hair, My Lord," he said, his voice lilting through the room.

"Do I?" Glorfindel smiled as he reached up and pulled some blades from his golden locks. "So I do."

"There is something I wish to discuss with you," Lindir said as he rose from the bed.

"Does it have something to do with the reason you did not sit next to me at dinner?" Glorfindel asked, a stone settling in his stomach. He always hated break ups, no matter the reason.

"In a manner, yes," Lindir answered as he walked over and helped Glorfindel remove his clothing. He drew his lover over to the bed. "But it can wait for the moment."

Glorfindel looked at him. Lindir was acting strangely. Their usual liaisons were fevered, passionate and fast. Tonight, the harpist seemed...languid, resigned almost, but to what Glorfindel couldn't say.

He allowed himself to be pushed back onto the bed and the rest of his clothing removed. A low moan escaped his lips as Lindir's mouth moved over his chest. The musician was quite skilled in bringing the fire of passion to his blood and he did not resist now.

Glorfindel's body arched as Lindir's lips settled over one nipple. He buried his fingers in the white locks and held the eager mouth to his chest.

"You wear too much clothing," he growled as he shifted beneath the elf.

"Perhaps you'd care to remove it," Lindir purred, his breath brushing over wet skin.

"Perhaps I prefer to watch you do it," Glorfindel answered.

"As you wish, My Lord." Lindir smiled as he stepped away from the bed. Slowly he removed his tunic, giving teasing glimpses of his body. He tossed the pale blue fabric into a corner, not caring where it landed. Turning around, he shook his head; letting white locks caress his back and brush teasingly over his legging clad behind.

"You enjoy this, don't you?" Glorfindel questioned as he changed his position, stretching out on his massive bed to watch Lindir.

"Enjoy what, My Lord?"

"You enjoy teasing me, making me wait," Glorfindel smiled.

"Yes," Lindir answered, "I do. I like knowing you want me. I like knowing the effect I have on you."

"So what is it that makes this time different from all the rest?" Glorfindel questioned.

Lindir paused in the unlacing of his leggings. Facing the door, he could hide the tears glistening in his eyes. Were he to turn around, Glorfindel would notice them in an instant. The warrior was incredibly observant. Thankfully, he had full control of his voice and was able to keep it from trembling.

"That is something we can discuss afterwards," he purred. "Right now, I wish to have you inside me."

Slowly he finished opening his leggings and bent over to draw them down his legs. He felt his hair slide over his back and curtain his face. Glorfindel now had an unobstructed view of his backside.

"Come here, Lindir," Glorfindel commanded gruffly. Once the musician was in arms reach, he snagged his wrist and pulled him on top of him. Lindir dropped his mouth to his neck when Glorfindel tried to look into his eyes. He gripped his shoulders and slowly lifted him. There was something...not right about this. He saw tears glistening in pale blue eyes.

He groaned when Lindir's slender fingers wrapped around him, guiding him to where the musician wanted him most. Before he could even blink, the ellon (m. elf) sat down fully on top of him. A cry of pain burst through those full lips. Immediately Glorfindel gripped his hips, preventing any further movement.

"Lindir?" he questioned softly, feeling the trembling in the body above him. He knew it was not from pleasure. He was too big to take the harpist without extensive preparation. "Why?"

"I could not wait," he sobbed softly, his body burning and his arousal gone.

"Ah, pen vain (beautiful one)," Glorfindel whispered as he rubbed the smooth skin of Lindir's back. "You knew it would hurt, but there were tears in your eyes even before that."

"Goodbyes always hurt," Lindir hiccupped.

"Ai, melui nín (my sweet)," Glorfindel whispered as he lifted him free. "They do. However, this should never hurt. It should always be filled with pleasure."

Gently, he carried Lindir into the bathroom. Drawing a tub full of water with one hand, he carefully held the musician with the other. He would rather suffer a thousand deaths than hurt even one of his lovers. It cut him to the quick that he had hurt Lindir, as unwitting as it may have been.

He eased them both into the water. Gently he washed the harpist's hair. Then slowly he cleansed his body, massaging the muscles of his chest and thighs. Leisurely he raised the passion in Lindir's blood until the harpist was writhing in his lap, his whimpers ones of desire instead of pain.

Glorfindel continued to pleasure him, drawing moan after moan from between Lindir's lips. He flooded his body with sensation until he couldn't tell which way was up. Then and only then, did Glorfindel prepare him, gently stretching him. He would not hurt Lindir again.

Once he was satisfied, he easily lifted Lindir above him, positioning the minstrel above his aching arousal. Gently he entered his body, watching for any sign of discomfort, though he knew there would not be any.

In the hours that followed, Glorfindel thoroughly pleasured Lindir. From bath to bed, he rang cry after cry from between kiss-swollen lips. Gently and reverently, he brought him to peak, letting him slide over with steady thrusts. Only after Lindir lay almost completely exhausted on top of him, did Glorfindel allow himself release.

Wrapped protectively around Lindir, he found sleep. He knew this had been Lindir's goodbye. He could only hope the minstrel would find someone to love him, as Glorfindel could not.

~~~

As the sun kissed Glorfindel's back, Lindir slipped from his bed. He dressed in silence, staring at the golden warrior, bathed in Anór's light. Despite all his good intentions to see the seneschal happy, he knew he could not remain in Imladris to watch it happen. He leaned over Glorfindel and kissed his cheek. A single tear slipped down his face to land on one high perfect cheekbone.

"Namárië (Quenyan - Farewell), melethen (my love)," he whispered softly. " No baid lín galen a glor (May your ways be green and golden)."

*****

Chapter 4

Slowly Glorfindel stretched in his bed. Each individual muscle pulled like a cat slowly waking from a night's sleep. He knew Lindir would not be by his side. It saddened him but he accepted it.

"I wish only the best for you, pen dithen (little one)," Glorfindel whispered. "May you find one who will love you, soul deep, as I cannot."

He closed his eyes for a brief moment and then got out of bed. Today he would speak to Elrond about Erestor. If anyone knew the Councilor's heart, it was he. Perhaps Glorfindel could glean some insight as to how to proceed with the quiet elf.

Glorfindel headed straight for Elrond's office. He knew Erestor wouldn't be there until 9am sharp. The Councilor would spend a few morning hours preparing reports and inventories. This left Glorfindel a small window of opportunity and he was not one to pass it up.

The door was closed. Generally, this meant Elrond did not wish to be interrupted. Glorfindel hesitated for a moment. He respected his lord very much, but at this moment, it warred with the desires of his heart. He NEEDED to speak to Elrond. In seconds, he was knocking on the door almost impatiently.

"Come in."

Glorfindel practically burst through the door. Elrond was sitting at his desk, his fingers steepled as he stared out the window. Obviously, the son of Eärendil was lost in thought. The golden elf paused before moving to stand in front of Elrond's desk.

"Do not stand on formality, Glorfindel. Sit," Elrond said as he turned gray eyes on his seneschal. "What has you in such a state so early in the morning?"

"I...met Erestor in the gardens last night," Glorfindel began. "I...he...we..."

"You are normally not at a loss for words, 'Fin," Elrond said, his concern showing through his voice. "Is something wrong with you? With Erestor?"

"Elrond, he threw me on my ass." Glorfindel began to chuckle and then that full belly laugh, taking Elrond aback with its appearance. Stormy eyes widened in shock. Glorfindel never laughed, never.

"You have come to complain?" Elrond began. "Glorfindel, I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation for Erestor's actions."

"No, no... " Glorfindel continued to laugh. "I completely deserved it. He told me to let go of his arm and I did not. I do not blame him for that. In fact, I thank him, THANK him, Elrond."

Elrond rose from his desk and came around to Glorfindel's side. He studied his friend, staring deep into his sparkling sapphire eyes. Light burned brightly within the Balrog Slayer, and he fairly glowed with it. Bright as the sun he was and joy filled the room.

"He tossed on my ass!" Glorfindel roared, "Laid me out with not a qualm. He did not tremble, he did not hesitate, and he just threw me!"

"Glorfindel, you are acting most strangely," Elrond said warily, trying to feel his forehead.

"Don't you see, Elrond?" Glorfindel said, shooting to his feet and grabbing the peredhel by the shoulders. "Don't you SEE? He did not treat me like a god on a pedestal. He did not fear angering the Balrog Slayer. He saw me as Glorfindel, just GLORFINDEL!"

A light clicked on for Elrond and he understood. A slow smile slid across his fair features. Erestor had done exactly what Glorfindel needed. He had seen him not as a hero of legend, but as an elf, an ordinary elf that needed to be thrown on his ass. It had done something to the seneschal. This light within him, it was so very bright and there was love, deep love. Elrond smiled then and guided Glorfindel back into his seat.

"What is it you wish of me, meldir (friend)?" Elrond asked gladly. Too long had Glorfindel's light been dimmed, far too long.

"I need to know how to court him," Glorfindel said, catching a full bottom lip between his teeth in his worry. "I need to know what he likes, what he doesn't like. How do I make him like me, Elrond?"

"Like you?" Elrond asked.

"Yes...I know he doesn't care for me. He...barely speaks to me at all. When he does, he is nice enough...as he is with everyone. However, Elrond, I need. I need to be more to him," Glorfindel looked lost and... scared. "He is...by the Valar, he is so beautiful, everything I desire in an ellon (m. elf). I swore...I swore I wouldn't give in to my desires again... wouldn't endanger those I love with my bad judgment. I was a fool the first time. But..."

"Glorfindel, what ARE you talking about?" Elrond demanded, suddenly confused by the other elf's words. He watched the shadows cloud those blue eyes.

"Maeglin."

"What about him?" Elrond demanded.

"He was...he was my lover. The night... " Tears slowly slid down Glorfindel's face as he suddenly became immersed in one of his many nightmares. "The night Gondolin fell, I was not at the gates as was my habit. I was in his arms and he slipped away to betray all that I loved. He was...so beautiful, so mysterious. His eyes were the first thing about him that caught my attention, so striking and dark. He was enchanting and I loved him deeply."

"And Erestor?" Elrond asked. "What about him?"

"Oh, Elrond, he was burned into my mind the moment I saw him. His eyes, green and ethereal, haunt my dreams. I ache for him. I even stooped to spying on him exercise in the morning just so I could feast my eyes upon his beauty. I told myself to stay away, that I did not deserve to love and be loved because I had failed in my duty to Gondolin. I had failed my people by not seeing the darkness in Maeglin's heart."

"You were not responsible for Maeglin," Elrond said firmly. "His choices were his own. You must forgive yourself, Glorfindel."

"I slept by his side every night and knew nothing of his evil," Glorfindel said, slumping in the chair. "I tried to make up for it. I did my best to protect my people. I gave my life for them and still it was not enough. I can never take back my mistake."

"GLORFINDEL!!" Elrond roared drawing the golden elf out of his memory. He waited until those blue eyes were focused on him. "YOU are not to blame for the fall. Maeglin was. Maeglin and Melkor. You did all you could to protect your people and your city. You made the ULTIMATE sacrifice. It is because of YOU that I exist. You saved my father. Do not let darkness take everything from you. Self-doubt and guilt are not yours. You fought and gave all. Now the Valar have given you a second chance, do not throw it away because of a past you cannot change."

Glorfindel stared into Elrond's eyes. He looked deep, seeking to find the true thoughts of his dearest friend. All he found was love, love and trust. He broke then, falling into his friend's arms to mourn the loss of all that he had held dear and the love that took it from him. He let go of the pain he had carried from his death into his new life. He set free the wings of his heart and cleansed it with purifying tears. And in doing so, he was truly reborn. His fëa (spirit) sprang forth bright and clear, dazzling as the sun in the sky.

"How do I win him, Elrond?" he asked on a half sob, changed from grief to joy, "How do I win Erestor's love?"

"I believe, melethen (my love), you already have it," came a soft voice from behind them. Glorfindel spun around, shocked that he had not heard the door open. Erestor stood framed by the archway, tears glistening in his eyes. Yet, there was a smile on his face. Without thinking twice, Glorfindel rushed forward and gathered Erestor in his arms. With barely a pause, he swooped down and captured the councilor's mouth in a kiss, carrying all he felt inside and it was returned a hundredfold.

*****

THE END

Go to the sequel to this story: Patience is a Virtue

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Elohir Mornedhel