Resurrection 8

Resurrection

Part 8

Posted: October 6, 2006
Title: Resurrection
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Erestor throws a party fit for a king and finds himself in an unexpected position. Glorfindel finds himself facing an unexpected request.

*****

The evening was going perfectly. Lindir’s minstrels broke for dinner, and the Noldo joined Elrond’s dinner party where he was introduced to Gil-galad. Erestor smiled proudly as Lindir bowed and accepted the compliments that the high king and Elrond bestowed upon him for his musical talents, then the minstrel took his place beside Erestor at the table. Lindir had grown so much since their arrival in Imladris, and every day Erestor was prouder to call him friend.

Galdor sat near the head of the table, next to Gil-galad and Gildor. Erestor noted that both Gildor and Glorfindel displayed restraint in the presence of the high king, and for the first time in a long time, they had a practically dignified meal.

As the staff began to clear the table, the party adjourned to the Hall of Fire, where Lindir rejoined his minstrels and prepared to play. Elrond and Gil-galad retired to Elrond’s personal study, where they would have a private conference - this left Glorfindel, Gildor, and himself to entertain their other guest of honor, Galdor. After several goblets of wine and much humorous conversation, Galdor reached across and placed his hand upon Erestor’s.

“When might I have a tour of your library, Erestor?” he asked quietly.

Erestor smiled and blushed a little. “I suppose now is a good a time as any,” he answered. He placed his goblet upon the table and stood, saying, “If you will excuse us.”

Glorfindel and Gildor watched with amused surprise as Erestor took Galdor by the hand and led him away from the Hall of Fire.

“Well, well,” Gildor remarked. “Now there is something I did not expect to see.” Glorfindel looked at Gildor with a quizzical expression. Gildor motioned somewhat drunkenly toward the door. “Erestor, being so bold… especially with Galdor. We both know what an imp that Sinda can be.”

Glorfindel furrowed his brow. “Perhaps I should accompany them. I fear Erestor has had too much drink.”

Gildor tugged the Elda back into his chair. “Nay, my friend. Allow our librarian a little fun. Galdor will not take it any further than Erestor wishes him to; we both know this.”

Glorfindel reluctantly nodded. “Aye, he did promise to be on good behavior.”

Gildor lifted his goblet in a toast. “And we both know him to be an honorable elf… not to mention good in bed.” He winked.

Glorfindel found that prospect to be an uncomfortable one, though there was no promise of exclusivity between him and Erestor. He tried to pay attention to Gildor as they chatted and listened to Lindir perform, but it was growing increasingly difficult the longer Erestor and Galdor were absent. Eventually, Gildor grew distracted by a handsome young Noldo who was part of Gil-galad’s guard, and he wandered off in the direction of more attentive company, but not before chastising Glorfindel for potentially ruining all of Erestor’s fun.

Finally, Glorfindel could take it no more, and he made for the library to seek out Erestor and Galdor. He entered and looked around the dimly lit space, but did not find the pair in the office or the shelves. Foregoing a lantern, he walked toward the back, where trade records were kept; that was when he first heard the sound of a soft moan. He closed his eyes and gathered his courage, and then he peered around the tall bookshelf. There they were, his former lover, Galdor, and his best friend, Erestor.

They stood face-to-face, so close their bodies were touching. Erestor’s hands were on Galdor’s shoulders, and Galdor’s fingertips were slowly, reverently exploring Erestor’s face. The Sinda’s fair hair gleamed in the starlight that filtered through the high windows, and the light of the lantern on the table warmed Erestor’s skin. Erestor’s eyes were closed, his lips parted, and Glorfindel watched, his stomach knotted, as Galdor leaned in and gently kissed him. He saw a tear trace down Erestor’s face and he began to intervene when he heard Galdor whisper, “No one deserves such a thing; I know better than most how cruel the offspring of Fëanor can be. I am honored that you shared this with me, despite knowing me for so short a time.”

“What did they do to you?” Erestor asked.

“They murdered my family before my eyes,” Galdor answered, “and then they left me for dead upon the seashore.”

“I have told no one else,” Erestor murmured. “I have been so ashamed.”

“Of what, my beauty?” Galdor asked softly. “Of giving all of yourself and asking nothing in return, even when you were used so cruelly?”

“I am ashamed of not having the strength to leave him.”

“You were in love, that is nothing to be ashamed of.”

Glorfindel watched as Galdor enfolded Erestor in his arms.

“Oh, my beautiful, dark, mysterious Erestor. Weep, my friend, weep in my arms and let your tears wash away all the pain.”

Glorfindel looked away, ashamed of his jealousy though unable to quash it. On the table next to them was a drawing of the fall of Ost-in-Edhil, and a book containing the history of the city. Glorfindel had always known that Galdor had a unique, empathic ability; the Sinda could see into the hearts of all he met and he always knew exactly what to do and say to bring comfort. He should not be surprised, for Galdor had done the same for him, feeling his confusion upon his awakening and helping to ground his spirit inside his body, albeit through unusual means.

Quietly he left the library, feeling conflicted and jealous that Erestor had not trusted him with this information. Music still drifted down the hallway from the Hall of Fire, and he took a goblet of wine from a server’s tray and stepped outside for some fresh air.

* * * *

Lindir watched the golden elf lord for a while from inside the Last Homely House. Glorfindel, always his friend and lately the object of many a fantasy, sat alone on the steps of the Last Homely House while elves laughed and danced inside. He took note of the empty glass beside the Elda, and quickly took another from a passing server before stepping outside.

Without a word, Lindir sat down beside Glorfindel and handed him the goblet, then he looked up at the stars above. Glorfindel murmured his thanks then looked at the minstrel, who seemed content to sit there in silence and gaze upon the stars.

“Will you not ask me why I am out here alone?” he queried.

“I imagine you will tell me, if you wish to.”

“Have you ever wanted someone’s trust badly, only not to receive it?”

Lindir frowned and thought about it for awhile, then answered, “No, but I have wanted to give my trust to one who will not ask for it.”

Glorfindel turned his head and looked at Lindir. “Who?”

Lindir swallowed. “I shall tell you, if you tell me.”

“Erestor.”

Lindir nodded. “Aye, I thought as much. Do not mistake me, my lord; I love Erestor as a true and dear friend, but he is one difficult elf to get to know.”

Glorfindel snorted. “You speak true, Lindir. Now for your answer.”

Lindir closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then he answered, “You.”

Glorfindel leaned away from Lindir. “Me?”

“Aye, you.” He sighed. “For months I have tried to work up the courage to ask you a very important question. Yet each time I have had the opportunity, I have failed to find that courage.”

“What question?”

“Promise me that no matter what I say, you will always be my friend, and you will not make fun of me.”

“Of course, Lindir, you know I am your friend, and I would never ridicule you.”

“As you know, I am of age now…”

Glorfindel smiled, thinking the minstrel was about to ask him advice as to how to woo some ellon or elleth. “Aye, I remember your majority celebration.”

“I find that there is something I want, yet it is something I have never known…”

Glorfindel placed his arm around the minstrel’s shoulders. “Ah yes, my friend. I remember the feeling well, though it was long ago.”

Lindir leaned into the welcoming embrace and placed his head upon Glorfindel’s shoulder. “I . . . I wish…”

“Say it, Lindir,” Glorfindel murmured.

“I wish you to be my first.”

Glorfindel’s eyes widened. This was not what he expected; he had no clue or hint that Lindir ever saw him that way. “Lindir . . . I . . . I am honored…”

Lindir tried to pull away. “Yet, you cannot. I knew that would be your answer, I should have heeded my brain and ignored my heart.” He struggled against Glorfindel’s strong, yet gentle grip on his shoulders. “Valar, I am so humiliated. Please, let me go.”

“Stop, Lindir. Stop trying to run away and look at me.”

“I cannot, please…”

“Lindir…”

“Please, let me go, please…”

Glorfindel turned to face the minstrel and grasped his chin. He looked into Lindir’s shimmering, pale blue eyes, so open, so beautiful, and so wounded. “You have to give me a moment, my sparrow,” he murmured. “I was not prepared for such a request.” He watched Lindir’s lower lip tremble as the Noldo bravely fought back his tears. “No, no, sparrow,” he whispered. “Do not weep, not over the likes of me.” He took Lindir’s face in his hands and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs. “I would be honored, my songbird, to show you the ways of love.” He covered Lindir’s mouth with his own before the minstrel could protest.

Lindir moaned softly into the kiss, then opened his mouth, inviting the elf lord’s tongue inside. He was afire, burning all over, fighting not to throw himself on the Elda right there on the steps. Another needful moan escaped him as Glorfindel accepted the invitation, the warrior’s tongue sliding inside his mouth as Lindir felt strong arms enfold him. He wrapped his arms around Glorfindel’s shoulders, arching into the embrace as one hand slid into the Elda’s hair and the other moved to the small of his back.

Glorfindel was surprised by the voracity of his response to Lindir’s request, and found he quite enjoyed holding the slender Noldo in his arms. It would not be the first time he initiated one into the ways of love, though it would be the first time he did so with one so dear to him. He slowly pulled away, yet lingered near Lindir’s sweet mouth. “Come, sparrow, this is no place to first know pleasure.”

Lindir took Glorfindel’s face in his hands. “There is none I trust more than you to show me the way,” he whispered. “Thank you…”

“Do not thank me yet, my songbird,” Glorfindel answered, a wry grin curving his lips. “I may yet disappoint you.”

Lindir laughed softly. “Nay, not you, my beautiful warrior. You have never disappointed me.”

Glorfindel rose from the steps and extended his hand, helping Lindir rise then leading him to his bedchamber.

*****

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