Resurrection 17

Resurrection

Part 17

Posted: November 17, 2006
Title: Resurrection
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Gildor and Erestor travel a new path.

*****

Erestor opened the door to his chambers to find Gwathel standing in the doorway, wagging her tail. As Gildor followed him into the room, Erestor heard Gwathel whine plaintively, then he noticed her empty water bowl near the entrance to his bathing chamber; he looked at Gildor apologetically.

“I am afraid I need to take her outside for a moment.”

Gildor smiled. “No worries, Erestor. I can be patient, for a short while anyway.” He winked at his friend.

Erestor smiled and leaned over, pressing a brief but warm kiss upon the warrior’s lips. “I shall return,” he murmured, and then he departed the bedchamber with his companion.

Gildor turned down the bed and cracked open one of the large doors leading to Erestor’s private balcony, just enough to let a fresh breeze into the room. He then entered the bathing chamber and began taking down his simple braids, placing the glass beads on the shelf above the sink. Picking up Erestor’s hairbrush, he drew it through his locks in long strokes until his hair fell around his shoulders and shined, then he removed his clothing and lay upon the bed. After a short while, he heard the sound of Gwathel’s nails clicking on the wooden floor of the hallway, and he rolled to his side and faced the door.

As Erestor opened the door and let Gwathel into his chamber, he stopped dead in the doorway. His friend lay naked upon his bed, his head propped up on one hand, his other hand draped over his hip. Just the sight of it caused a stirring in his core; he had imagined Gildor would be beautiful naked, but this was beyond his expectations. The warrior had a fine archer’s body, long and lean, with alabaster skin stretched taut over chiseled muscles. He had long limbs and a long torso, narrow hips, and a rippled abdomen.

Gwathel trotted over to the bed, and sensing that she would not be sleeping there that night, she propped her chin on the edge and looked at Gildor as she wagged her tail. Gildor reached out, affectionately stroking her head and murmuring, “good girl,” in his deep, husky voice.

“Lay down, Gwathel,” Erestor said distractedly, pointing at the rug as his gaze wandered Gildor’s form. His companion complied, walking over to the rug and groaning quietly as she lay down, propping her head upon her front paws.

He began working the clasps on his robe as he approached the bed slowly. He felt as if he should say something, but words failed him. ‘You are beautiful,’ seemed so inadequate. Besides, beautiful was something that most elves were, Gildor was something else in addition – it was more a spirit of wildness that the warrior possessed than any sort of refined beauty.

The robe slipped from his shoulders and he removed his shoes, then he mounted the bed, clad only in his undergarment. Gildor rolled to his back and reached out, gently clasping Erestor’s arms and pulling him down so that he lay between the warrior’s legs. He closed his eyes as Gildor caressed his face and slowly removed his braids.

“I want to put my hands in your hair,” the warrior murmured. “I want to know what it feels like sliding over my skin.”

Erestor drew a deep, hitching breath. The warmth of Gildor’s flesh was accentuated by the gentle, cool breeze that filtered in through the window, causing the soft, pale curtains to slowly billow. Outside, he heard owls hooting and crickets softly calling. Inside, he could only hear the sound of their combined breaths and feel the slow, steady thudding of Gildor’s heart against his chest.

“Elbereth, look at you,” Gildor murmured as the last of Erestor’s braids came free and he combed his fingers through his friend’s raven locks. “Never in all of my days have I seen one so beautifully vulnerable. I wondered if I would ever see past that mask you so often wear. Only once have I in all the years we have known one another, and that was the night Lindir was wounded. This . . . this occasion is so much more wonderful.” A tear slowly tracked down Erestor’s cheek and Gildor drew his friend’s face to his lips. “Why tears, my treasure?” he murmured.

“I . . . I do not know,” Erestor mumbled.

“If you change your mind, I will leave, and we will not be the worse for it,” Gildor said softly.

“No, no . . . I do not want you to leave. I have not changed my mind.”

“Then why do you weep?” Gildor kissed a tear from Erestor’s cheek.

“It is all so overwhelming, so unexpected,” Erestor whispered.

Gildor smiled. “Aye, unexpected indeed, but do you not think that it is what we do not expect that brings us the most joy?”

Erestor opened his eyes and smiled as he took Gildor’s face in his hands. “Yes, and this does bring me joy.” He pressed his lips to Gildor’s and kissed him deeply.

Erestor moaned plaintively as Gildor’s strong, battle-toughened hands roamed his back, delving into the curve before sliding over his buttocks. His lover’s fingers deftly worked the laces on his undergarment, and he felt it slip free. With a shift of his hips, Gildor brought their burgeoning lengths into contact with one another, and Erestor groaned, kissing Gildor harder.

As they broke their kiss, Erestor breathed, “Gods, I want you; I want you so much.”

“As I want you, my jewel,” Gildor murmured huskily into Erestor’s ear. “I want to take you, I want to feel you beneath me, I want to feel you inside.”

Erestor moaned as Gildor rolled him to his back. His lover’s smoky voice, his strong, rough hands, the way he spoke to him so possessively – it was all so familiar; it was like home. “Yes,” he whispered. “Take me, ride me, leave me spent.”

Gildor pulled Erestor’s wrists over his head and held them tight in one hand; his lover’s free hand slid between his legs, callused fingers stroking his length before delving deeper. As he felt Gildor’s fingertips circle his entrance his body tightened and he whispered, “Wait . . . wait!” Opening his eyes, he looked into Gildor’s own. What he saw there was genuine love and concern, not cool possessiveness.

“I . . . I cannot…”

Gildor’s soft lips caressed his cheek. “I would not harm you, Erestor. Surely you know this.”

“I do.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Gildor asked, almost afraid of the answer he would get.

“No! No, please…” Erestor pulled his wrists free and wrapped his arms around his lover. “I . . . I need to tell you something.”

Gildor raised an eyebrow. “Now?”

“Yes, now, before we go any further.”

Gildor rolled to the side and propped himself up on one elbow, trying earnestly to ignore the pulsing ache in his loins. “Tell me.”

Erestor swallowed the lump in his throat and focused his gaze on the ceiling. “The last time I allowed someone to…” He cleared his throat and began again. “The last time I gave myself in that way, he . . . he hurt me, badly.” He felt Gildor’s hand upon his chest and felt his friend slide closer. “I have not been able to give myself in that way since.”

Gildor knew that Erestor had been with both Glorfindel and Galdor since he came to Imladris, and he knew that neither of them would ever do something like that to Erestor. “Tell me all of it, my friend. You need to let it go.”

“I . . . I am so ashamed…”

Erestor felt Gildor gently grasp his jaw and turn his head so that their gazes met. “Listen to me, the one who hurt you is the one who should be ashamed, not you. You bear no blame.”

“How do you know? You do not know what happened.”

“Did you ask him to hurt you?”

“No.”

“Then you do not bear the blame.”

“I could have fought back, I could have refused.”

“Who was it, Erestor?”

“I . . . I cannot tell.”

“Why? Is he here?”

“No, he is dead.”

The truth landed on Gildor like a ton of stone. Erestor had been with the House of the Mírdain; he had extraordinary skill, which meant he had a superior tutor. He grieved Celebrimbor’s death, as all Mírdain did, but he seemed to feel the grief more acutely. How he had not figured this out sooner was beyond him, but now he knew.

“Celebrimbor.”

Erestor looked at Gildor with wide eyes.

“Celebrimbor was your lover.”

Erestor nodded as tears began to fall.

“Oh, my dear Erestor,” Gildor murmured as he drew Erestor into his arms. “Gods, you have carried this alone all this time.” He remembered the day they rescued Erestor. “Sweet Eru, you saw him. You saw what they did to him.”

Erestor began to weep openly and Gildor held him close. “Weep, my friend. There are things in life that deserve many tears. Surely, the horrible experiences you have been through rank high among them.”

“I loved him,” Erestor mumbled through his tears. “I loved him even after what he did to me.”

“That was not him, Erestor. I have seen the work Morgoth, and believe me, Sauron was an apt pupil. Annatar had Celebrimbor all twisted inside, until he could not remember who he was or what he had loved before. When he did that to you, he was not himself, that I know for certain. The elf you loved was who he had been, who he still was under all that twisted lust for power. You need suffer no shame, my friend. You loved him well, and that is never a thing to be ashamed of.”

Erestor’s tears subsided and he drew back and looked into Gildor’s kind eyes. He sniffled. “I suppose this is not what you expected when you came here,” he said quietly.

Gildor smiled and chuckled. “No, not exactly. But I am glad I am here nonetheless.” He caressed Erestor’s face. “I still want you, Erestor, that has not changed. But if you do not feel the same, or…”

“I cannot believe it,” Erestor murmured. “How can you want me after what I have told you?”

Gildor smiled. “Because I know you, Erestor. One event does not make up an elf’s life; even so, it was not your fault. If you are too uncomfortable with this…”

Erestor caressed Gildor’s face. ‘Do not make the same mistake, Erestor,’ he chided himself. ‘Do not drive him away too.’

“No, I want you still. I want you to stay.” He moved closer. “I do not want to be afraid anymore. I want you to take me, to possess me, to make me yours.”

Gildor ran his hand into Erestor’s hair. “I will not hurt you.”

“I know, I trust you.”

Gildor smiled sensually and nuzzled Erestor’s mouth. “I will possess you, and in return, you shall have all of me.”

He rolled over Erestor, pressing him into the bed once again.

*****

previous | Chapter Index | next

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to: Larien Elengasse