By Dawn's Light

Posted: April 2003
Type: FCS
Author: Kharessa Bloodrose
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating: R
Summary: Glorfindel and Erestor adjust to the new level their relationship has moved to.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or settings, nor am I making any profit from the writing and sharing of this work.
Warnings: Romance, some angst
Author's Notes: If you feel that praise is in order, please direct your thanks to Angelou, Nellas, and Ze who encouraged me to continue this. If you think it's crap, please direct your complaints to me. Creative criticism and feedback is also always welcome.
Sequel to "Tricks Of Memory"

*****

He blinked awake, and immediately knew he was not in his own room. Morning sunlight did not stream in to assail his eyes through his own west facing windows, and the ceiling he was accustomed to looking up at was cream rather than robin's egg blue. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see slender bedposts ending in delicately carved rosewood mushroom caps. Embroidered peonies decorated the border of his pillow, and Erestor muzzily reflected that in private Glorfindel had rather fanciful tastes.

He knew that Glorfindel was gone without looking, but he looked nevertheless. A few golden strands of hair lay on the pillow beside him, and Erestor stared at them contemplatively. He had heard the warrior rise before the dawn, had feigned sleep as he had carefully extricated himself from the tangle of white linen sheets and thin peach coverlet. He had watched as Glorfindel hastily brushed and re-braided his hair, efficiently dressed himself in the simple greens and grays of the Imladris fighters. There had been no clank of metal or jingle of buckles as Glorfindel belted on his sword, strapped his dagger to his thigh, finished arming himself with quiver and bow. Of course he had to lead the patrol this morning as on any other, regardless of the strange presence of a chief advisor in his bed.

Erestor sighed and turned, reaching for the bedside table without looking. He had heard the scratch of quill on paper, had felt the movement of the air as Glorfindel had left the note for him. He did not take the time to speculate on what words Glorfindel might have so hastily written, but brought the parchment immediately before his sleep hazy eyes.

-I'll be here after the midday meal- Unsigned, written in Glorfindel's clearly legible yet unremarkable hand. Erestor's lips tightened. Apparently the warrior thought that he had nothing better to do than lie in bed all day waiting for his return. Perhaps he should leave an explanatory note along those lines for Elrond.

-My Dearest Elrond,- Erestor mentally composed. –I regret that I will be unable to render my services to you as Lord Glorfindel urgently requires my services in his bedchamber this day. I will resume my duties tomorrow. Very Truly Yours, Erestor- His lips quirked sardonically as he considered Elrond's reaction to such a note, and with another sigh he heaved himself out of bed.

His clothes had been picked up, folded, and placed on the peach and green cushioned seat of a nearby rocking chair. It had seemed perfectly reasonable to come to Glorfindel's rooms in nothing but his night clothes, but now he found himself disgusted with his lack of forethought. He dressed quickly, and standing before the full length mirror he used Glorfindel's brush to untangle his hair. He felt like a thief as he rummaged through the warrior's top dresser drawer, and in his search found nothing suitable for holding his customary ceremonial plaits. With a sigh he helped himself to a few narrow strips of dark ribbon and settled on a quick, functional design that had nothing in its favor beyond keeping his dark locks out of his face. A quick perusal of his reflection told him that this did nothing to enhance his image of respectability; he looked as if he were sneaking back from a late night tryst. Which, of course, he was.

His eyes drifted to the wardrobe, also fancifully carved with mushrooms and flowers, and then he smirked in amusement. Anything of Glorfindel's would be too large for him, and even if he scavenged something unrecognizable from the darkest depths of the closet it would still be obvious to anyone who looked that he was wandering about with unkempt hair in clothes not his own. He would simply have to be careful in sneaking back to his own room to dress, and he was confident that he was elf enough to do that.

With this steadying thought he straightened the sheets and coverlet, doing little more than pulling out the worst wrinkles. He resolutely did not think about why he also folded the terse, unsigned note and slid it into his night shirt pocket before slipping out the door.

*****

There had been news of trouble in the lands beyond Imladris' western border, but as of yet the valley was still quiet. The elvish fighters under Glorfindel's command did not ride in companies as did human soldiers, and some of them did not ride at all. In groups of twos and threes they moved swiftly, silently, unseen along trails that only they could discern, taking paths that would be impossible for a lesser race to follow. Their eyes and ears missed nothing, and Glorfindel was proud to be leading those whom he deemed to be among the greatest warriors of the elven nations. A creature of shadow invading Imladris' peace would be pierced by an arrow before seeing his killer, would pass into death before feeling the pain. Only a group invading in force would ever meet with melee combat, and Imladris had been blessedly free of such great evil for long years.

The morning hours past swiftly, and Glorfindel did not find himself irritable and distracted as he had been in the past. Though the rain had not resumed after dawn had broken, the sky drifted ambivalently between blue and gray. It seemed to him that the heavens reflected his mood quite well, caught on the giddy cusp of some electrical enlightenment. His nerves sang with it, and he accepted that as he accepted the inevitability of both storms and sunshine.

He thought about black hair and eyes that could be stern, mocking, sarcastic, warm, vulnerable, and filled with passion. He didn't taste lunch, though he did take his place at the table, cheerfully nodding along with whatever it was that Elladan and Elrohir were merrily babbling about. Elrond was in a better frame of mind for having the Mirkwood business behind him, and he found it easy to ignore Celebrian's curious looks. Erestor was not at the table, having made some excuse for his absence, and Glorfindel could easily picture him reclining in his bed or sitting at his table.

He was disappointed, however, when the meal was through and he found his chambers empty. There were long, black hairs in his brush and no note on the table. The bed had been haphazardly made, and Glorfindel cast it a dull look before striding over to jerk off the sheets. For a brief moment he considered calling the maid, and then mechanically set about doing the job himself. He did not notice the odd look the servant woman in the hall gave him when he passed her on the way back from the linen closet, nor did he hear the click of the door when he was half way through re-making his bed.

"I borrowed some of your ribbons." Glorfindel looked around, eyes wide. Erestor stood by the dresser, holding several black ribbons.

"I thought you'd be here after lunch." He took the offered strips of black silk and frowned slightly at the jumble his dresser drawer had been left in.

"I do have work to do here. Besides waiting for you to return from patrol."

"I didn't mean it that way." Glorfindel's jaw tightened as he swiftly re-organized. "I think your combs are probably behind the head board."

"Probably. It didn't occur to me to look there."

There was nothing further to fiddle with in the drawer, and with a sigh Glorfindel closed it. Erestor stood near him looking utterly impervious. For the first time he noticed that the advisor was slightly taller than he was, though his build was more slender. He wore the formal robes of forest green and burgundy that denoted his position as Elrond's counselor, and Glorfindel noticed something else about Erestor that he never had before. He was intimidating, standing straight and proud in his office vestments, eyes shuttered and head held high.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Erestor glanced away. He moved soundlessly to the half made bed and swiftly finished pulling the coverlet over the twin pillows. Finishing up he turned and sat, eyes wide with a strange species of amused yet disinterested inquiry. As if he was prepared to be entertained by Glorfindel, though he did not expect to be terribly interested in anything the blonde warrior might have to say. Glorfindel felt anger rising within him, and he crossed to stand before Erestor.

"I don't take lovers lightly, Erestor." He ground out, and the advisor raised an eyebrow.

"Am I your lover?"

"I thought you were." A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he refused to break eye contact.

"I asked you a question last night. You need to think of a better answer." The words were uncompromising, and for a moment Glorfindel was at a loss. Few words had been spoken the previous night, and he remembered even fewer of them. Then memory returned.

"You want to know why."

"Aye." Erestor was the one to break their gaze, his eyes shifting to the soft tapestry rug at his feet. "I don't object to being your friend and lover. I don't object if…" For a moment he paused, as if feeling for the words. "If, perhaps, you'd like to become more than that. But I'll know where I stand in this as in all things, Glorfindel."

"Do you want to be more than that to me?" Glorfindel said softly, dropping to his knees to look directly into Erestor's face. Color flushed the Noldor elf's cheeks, but he did not avoid returning the warrior's gaze, and Glorfindel knew that he would not speak. With a harsh sigh, Glorfindel swept a hand through his blonde hair, mussing his careful braids.

"Why…" He paused, thinking. "Because I couldn't get you out of my mind. Since the day the ambassadors from Lothlorien were here. All I was thinking about was the rain, and then you were there, and to me it was as if you never left. So I acted upon that. That's all the why there is."

Erestor rose to his feet. His hand ghosted lightly over the silk of blonde braids as he spoke. "I have work to do."

"Will you come back?" Glorfindel strove to keep any pleading note out of the question; it came out flat, expressionless. Erestor paused, considering.

"Yes."

*****
The chief advisor of Imladris returned to the seneschal's rooms cocooned in his robes of office. His feet were soundless in the corridor, his gait smooth and steady, betraying nothing of nerves or hesitation. He might have been himself the Lord of Imladris by the set of his head, and the purposefulness of his stride. The only thing out of place was his hair, which was slightly damp and unbraided, combed back from his face but otherwise unrestrained. When he reached the door to the warrior's chambers he did not knock before letting himself in.

"I wasn't expecting you so early." Glorfindel commented mildly. "I was going to look for you in the library."

A tray of candied apricots rested on the bedside table, and Erestor smiled. "With those? I do not wish to sound ungrateful, but truthfully, sticky sweets and parchment do not go well together."

"I thought they went together very well." Glorfindel responded, and Erestor inclined his head, conceding the point. Again he seated himself on the edge of the bed. When Glorfindel joined him he did not move away, but instead shifted to settle an arm about his waist.

"You asked me if I wanted you." He said simply, and Glorfindel smiled.

"However did you become a diplomat with such a straight forward manner?"

"Days spent practicing the art of double tongues lead to evenings of assertiveness. Help me with my robes."

"Assertiveness, eh?" Glorfindel arched an eyebrow as he pulled Erestor to his feet and guided the heavy green and burgundy material over the taller elf's head. The result was a slightly mussed chief advisor standing before him in white under shirt and black breeches. Glorfindel pushed the dark locks back from his golden face, and started to toss the ceremonial garment onto the chair. Erestor pursed his lips, catching it mid flight.

"They're for tomorrow. I'll not sneak through the halls like a maid who's overslept on the morning after a late night tryst again." He strode to the wardrobe and neatly hung the robe along side one of Glorfindel's tunics. The warrior watched in amusement, coming to stand behind him as Erestor began quickly and efficiently undoing the pearl buttons of his shirt.

"Did you over sleep this morning?" He asked softly, hands encircling Erestor's waist and then sliding up to replace the advisor's hands at the whitely gleaming closures.

"A little, maybe." He leaned back against Glorfindel's chest, feeling the soft, warm susurrus of breath against his neck and ear. "I was surprised to sleep so well in a strange bed."

"My bed is not so strange."

Erestor glanced back over his shoulder at the peony sewn pillow cases and said nothing. Glorfindel followed his eyes as he finished pulling the crisp, clean white shirt from the advisor's shoulders.

"Are you critiquing my décor?"

"Not at all." The shirt joined the robe, and Glorfindel raised a questioning eyebrow as his fingers ghosted down Erestor's chest and stomach, stopping at the waist band of his breeches.

"These too, I assume?" The warrior asked, hand flat against Erestor's lower abdomen. There was a slight catch in Erestor's breath as he answered.

"Yes, but it helps to remove the boots first."

"Mmmhmm." Glorfindel murmured, kissing the side of Erestor's neck. Damp black hair clung to his cheek. The Noldor elf smelled of the scented soap he had used to wash his hair mixed with the faint fragrance of bath oils. He shivered in Glorfindel's grasp and turned to face him inside the circle of his muscular arms. Their lips met briefly, and Glorfindel smiled against the warm curve of Erestor's mouth as he felt him relax fully into the embrace. With real regret he released him, pushed him down gently into the nearby rocking chair.

It did not surprise him that the chief advisor had tucked his trouser legs into his boots as neatly and evenly as if he had been dressing for work. Genuflecting before him, Glorfindel could not help but shudder at the weight of those dark eyes, lambent by firelight, watching him as he loosened the laces, gripped back of heel and calf, pulled. Erestor's hands rested lightly on the arms of the rocking chair; his posture was one of relaxation and his expression one of sensual consideration. Glorfindel wondered how he must look to him, kneeling, performing the duties of a servant but without a servant's matter-of-fact impersonality.

White socks beneath black boots – again, no surprise. Glorfindel pulled them off, bowed his head, kissed the sole of one satin smooth foot. Erestor allowed these ministrations for a few moments, his eyes wide as he watched. Golden hair draped the top of his foot, tickling as the warrior gently kissed and lightly licked as if his flesh were a sweet confection delicious as the candied fruit on the bedside table. With a shiver he finally pulled away, rose, pulled Glorfindel to his feet.

"Bed." He said simply, and Glorfindel nodded, allowed himself to be pulled towards the expanse of peach cotton and fresh white linens. His own clothing was easier to remove than Erestor's, and by the time they reached the bed there was a trail of haphazardly dropped garments behind them.

"I want you tonight." Erestor said, pushing him down on the bed, and Glorfindel growled low in appreciative response. Heat flared in the dark elf's eyes as he swiftly unbuttoned and removed his breeches, letting them drop beside Glorfindel's leggings.

Their love making was less timid than on the previous night, though their pace was slower. Erestor had little difficulty in learning to pleasure the body so similar to his own. It gave him a sense of mastery to hear the warrior's moans, gasps, soft cries and growls as he made slow and sensual love to him, taking his time in discovering what would turn Glorfindel liquid and utterly malleable under his hands. It was not the frightening exhilaration of trust that he had felt under Glorfindel's dominance, but something equally arousing, heady, beyond description.

Afterwards they lay twined together beneath the blankets. Erestor held the blonde warrior tightly, tasting the salt tang of his essence at the back of his throat, feeling the after shocks of passion spent within the warrior firing erratic signals through his body. He had not thought to remove Glorfindel's braids before they made love, and now he did so, gently running his fingers through locks of hair now falling in sunlight spirals.

"How many more days have you of morning patrol?" He asked quietly, and Glorfindel shifted in his arms.

"Three."

"Mmmm." Erestor nuzzled in the silken tresses, his breath tickling Glorfindel's ear. "I would like to see you by dawn light instead of watching you dress in the dark."

"You watched?" Glorfindel glanced up, nearly jarring Erestor's chin. The dark elf scowled mockingly and Glorfindel grinned.

"Aye, I watched, and listened to you write your note, though I did not feel up to lighting the lamp to read it at such a Valar forsaken hour."

"Ah, in such high regard are my missives received." The warrior sighed, and then grew still, considering the words Erestor had spoken. "You will be here, then, four days hence?"

"If you want me to be."

*****

Part 3

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