Manipulation

Posted: April 2003
Type: FCS
Author: Kharessa Bloodrose
Characters: Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating: PG-13 maybe a very light R
Summary: Glorfindel finally gets somewhere, and NO ONE has sex. /snicker
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or settings, and I am making no profit from the writing and sharing of this story.
Warnings: Romance, angst
Author's Notes: Thanks to Morgana, Angilou, Elizabeth, Aradiria, Alex, Tessie, and Heather for feedback and commentary.
Sequel to "Fear And Jealousy"

*****

The afternoon conference had gone slowly, painfully slowly. There was precious little left to discuss, only a few small details to be ironed out before Elralinde would be returning to Mirkwood. For the sake of courtesy Elrond would ask her to remain for another week, and for the same reason she would accept.

She had worn her hair loose again, falling in a blue black flood over green clad shoulders. Her eyes had drifted to Glorfindel through out the afternoon, meeting his and then flickering shyly away, dancing glances that made Erestor's head pound and teeth grind. The looks she had been giving him on the balcony the previous night had not been shy; they had been open, but also calculating. He had been able to read what was on her mind from twenty paces, and had no doubt that Glorfindel had not needed an interpreter to understand her, either. Elralinde played it close in the council chamber, but it seemed she was much more up front in her personal interests.

Another week. A week of watching her body sway receptively towards Glorfindel's, seemingly unconsciously, whenever he drew close. A week of watching his eyes follow her form, of watching them study and consider each other. A week of watching his lover dance with her in the drawing room, for form's sake of course, hand ghosting over her tulip stalk waist. He could always ask her to dance first, but the idea left him cold, furious, inchoate with emotion.

By contrast he had worn his own hair tightly braided, un-ornamented, severely traditional. It had not lessened his beauty, but had granted him a cold loveliness that had not been his aim at all. He looked distant, untouchable, moon-like. Erestor had glared at his face in the mirror that morning, wished for a battle scar, a little less fullness to his lips, a jaw that was more square, eyes that were less like fathomless pools under a full moon. He was the moon to Elralinde's velvet night, but it was a comparison that he did not want drawn. It was a comparison he did not even want to think about.

Celebrian had brought in wine and a tray of pastries some time after the noon meal, and he had watched Elralinde daintily holding the crumbly sweet, decorously handling it without scattering crumbs on her robe or leaving half of the flakes stuck to her lips. He managed likewise, whereas Glorfindel was in a mess with his, as usual. He imagined himself leaning forward, telling her that the warrior did best with pastries when he was licking them off of someone else's fingers. That would undoubtedly raise a few eyebrows, perhaps even cause Glorfindel to redirect his vision away from the vixen who was leaning so closely to him, ostensibly to look at a map, that her breast was almost brushing his arm.

*****
He could not help feeling a wave of guilt as he watched Erestor struggling to remove his braids, and finally Glorfindel went to him, silently offering his help. The adviser's hands slid to his lap as Glorfindel untied the somber black ribbons and carefully ran his fingers through the silken black hair. He loved the waves and ripples in it, not quite long enough to be straightened by its own weight as Elralinde's was. She was lovely, but she was not his Erestor.

Erestor's face was cold, expressionless, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on his own reflection in the mirror. Glorfindel touched his cheek gently, cupped his chin and tilted his head upward to meet his eyes. Had he ever done anything this cruel to someone he loved before? He didn't think so. Even so, his decision was made. He'd made it when he'd seen the foreign beauty escorted into the main hall, seen the way she looked at him, and the way Erestor's eyes had immediately narrowed.

-I mean to have all of you, Erestor.- He thought, still carding his fingers through waves of shining blackness. –Not just the small bits that you're willing to dole out.-

"You borrowed my ribbons, melethron nin." Inwardly he winced at the doubting, hurt expression that briefly flashed in Erestor's eyes.

"Was that alright?"

"Of course." He smiled, ran his fingertips along Erestor's cheekbone. "Though I like your silver clasp best of all."

"It seemed inappropriate today."

"Mmm." Glorfindel said noncommittally, and Erestor licked his lips, glanced back at the mirror. Now his hair fell in twin sheaves at either side of his fair face, and he impatiently swept it back, tucking it behind his ears. Glorfindel immediately pulled it loose once more, and was rewarded with a scowl.

"Do you want me to look like a she elf for you?"

"No, I want you to look like you." His brows drew together in an expression of puzzlement that felt patently false, but apparently looked realistic enough to Erestor. "Why do you ask that?"

"'Tis nothing." Erestor replied tightly, and Glorfindel's heart ached at the brief, barely seen expression of hurt and betrayal that crossed the dark elf's face.

"Let me love you, meleth nin?" He whispered, and Erestor nodded, stood and turned immediately into Glorfindel's embrace.

*****

Erestor had seated himself next to Glorfindel in the drawing room. Elralinde sat across from them, shapely legs crossed in a manner that might have been thought seductive if it were not for the long, flowing skirt that rendered the pose sweetly innocent. Her eyes were wide with interest as she listened to Glorfindel speak, and she involved herself in the conversation with not only her voice, but also with the movement of her hands and body, the expressions that flitted easily across her face. Celebrian laughed in response to something she said, and Erestor smiled tightly. By the faint blush on Glorfindel's face it had been complementary towards him; Erestor had not been listening closely enough to know for sure.

He did not know what possessed him to do what he did next. Elrond rose, approached the harpsichord at Celebrian's urging, and something in Erestor clenched, tensed, snapped. Elralinde's expression was coyly questioning as the first notes filled the drawing room, and Erestor casually stretched out his arm, rested his hand easily and firmly on Glorfindel's thigh just barely above his knee. He said nothing, smiled blandly as he squeezed lightly, enjoying the tight feeling of shocked flex beneath his hand, the brief widening of Elralinde's eyes, the faint color rising in Celebrian's cheeks. Only Elrond, whose back was turned, had missed this, and he was sure it would not be long before the Lord of Imladris was filled in.

Glorfindel did not move his hand, did not move away when Erestor shifted position slightly to sit closer to the golden warrior. He didn't dare to dart a look from the corner of his eye to gauge his reaction, didn't dare to make this seem anything but a gesture made by one who was sure of its reception. Celebrian, ever the perfect hostess, had picked up the thread of conversation and moved on with it, her eyes studiously avoiding the general area of Glorfindel's lap. Elralinde arched her eyebrows, cast Glorfindel one last speculative glance before turning her attention to the Lady of Imladris.

Erestor's heart was pounding, the conversation around him drowned out by the rush of blood in his ears. Now he dared to look at Glorfindel, saw the casually accepting expression on the blonde's face. His Glorfindel.

*****

"What was that all about?" Glorfindel asked as he shrugged out of his doublet. Erestor caught it before it could hit the floor, turned to hang it neatly back in the wardrobe.

"I cannot bear the way that you look at her." He answered. His cheeks were bright with color when he faced Glorfindel once more. "I will not pretend that you mean nothing to me, stand back in silence, while you treat me so."

"While I treat you so." Glorfindel repeated, stepping closer to the trembling elf before him. "Why does it bother you, Erestor?"

He could see the confusion in Erestor's eyes, the fear and hurt.

"I told you, Glorfindel…" He whispered, and the warrior gripped his chin firmly, held him in place.

"Told me what?"

" I love you." The words were barely audible. His eyes were downcast, sooty lashes touching the high curve of his perfect cheekbones. Glorfindel pulled him close, and Erestor clung to him, face buried in Glorfindel's chest.

"I don't want to ever be without you." He mumbled into the warrior's thin shirt, and Glorfindel soothingly stroked his hair.

"You never will be, melethen." He kissed Erestor's temple gently. "I was only being courteous to her, flirting, being friendly. I meant nothing by it."

"You looked at her the way you look at me." Erestor would not meet his eyes. "Is that what you truly want? A female with dark hair and dark eyes? Do I remind you of such?"

"If that is what I wanted, I would not be here with you." Glorfindel said seriously, and was shocked to see tears streaking Erestor's face when he again lifted the dark elf's chin. "I am so sorry, lirimaer. I do love you."

Erestor nodded, and when their lips met Glorfindel tasted sweetness and salt, a déjà vu of flavor that filled him with tenderness rather than lust. Though normally Erestor would have disapproved, he made no objection when Glorfindel lifted him and carried him to the bed.

*****

The hour was late, but Elralinde was still awake, standing by the window overlooking the gardens. Erestor was asleep, nestled into the jumble of sheets and blankets, exhausted by lovemaking. Glorfindel had meant only to visit the kitchen for a glass of water, but the sight of the elf maid at the window caused his steps to slow. He supposed he did owe her an apology, and he was not one to put matters off.

She did not turn to face him when he joined her at the casement, but only cast him a sideways glance.

"I am sorry, Elralinde, if I gave you the impression that I was… available. It appears that I did give that impression to Erestor."

"No apology is necessary, my lord." She answered smoothly. "I will be visiting Lothlorien on business also; perhaps I will find something in blonde and pretty while I am there."

Glorfindel winced, but made no reply to the barbed comment. He deserved it, after all, and had no desire to end his night in a verbal sparring match with the Mirkwood ambassador. He began to take his leave, but Elralinde stopped him, turned to fix him briefly with her gaze.

"Imladris is a veritable paradise, but would I be wrong to say that all is not as it should be in your garden of delights?"

"I would say that you would be presumptuous to say such a thing." His tone was stiff, expression stony, and Elralinde snickered softly.

"Aye, indeed, had I not already become involved in your business, and through no effort or intentional meddling of my own."

Glorfindel said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow and waited. She nodded as if he had asked her to continue, a sly smile turning her fair face darkly mysterious.

"You were right to make that one fight; he would have held you at arm's length forever had you not given him reason to be otherwise."

"What would you know about it?"

Her expression grew sardonic; this time it was her turn to refuse to answer.

"Be ready. He's not going to be happy with either you or himself tomorrow." She stepped away from the window and offered Glorfindel a mocking bow. "That one thinks too much, and you, I fear, do not think nearly enough."

And with that she walked away, leaving Glorfindel to stand alone and mystified by the open window.

*****

Part 8

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