Resurrection 20

Resurrection

Part 20

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

Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel run away from their feelings and hide in their lovers.

*****

Erestor entered the chambers he shared with Gildor to find his lover lying on his back across the foot of the bed, and Gwathel asleep on the rug in the sun. The wolf lifted her head, her tail thumping as Erestor entered and approached her. He bent over and rubbed his companion’s head, then turned to look at Gildor.

The warrior’s bare feet dangled just above the floor and his hands were stretched over his head. His breeches rode low on his hips and were unlaced so that Erestor could see a pale, almost imperceptible dusting of fair hair just above the opening. Gildor was shirtless and his pale skin was stretched taut over his lean muscles. Erestor’s gaze focused on the way the warrior’s stomach sunk in beneath his ribs. He gazed at Gildor’s flaxen hair, which was the color of the pale winter sun and hung unbound from his head, falling straight as an arrow toward the floor.

Erestor often admired Gildor’s physical presence. His lover was a handsome specimen; built lean and strong, with long limbs and a narrow waist. His pale blue eyes sparkled when his soft lips curved into a smile. Gildor had the most charming smile; it was the kind of smile that could coax a leg of lamb from a starving man, the kind that could woo the guarded heart of one who had been lonely for far too long.

At first glance, Erestor thought his lover was asleep, but then he caught the gentle curving of the warrior’s lips.

“Negotiations over?” Gildor murmured, his eyes still closed.

“For now,” Erestor answered, removing his robe and shoes, and then mounting the bed, straddling his lover’s hips.

Gildor opened his eyes, his wolfish grin fading when he saw the look in Erestor’s eyes. Reaching up, he softly touched his lover’s cheek. “What is the matter, my love? I see such sorrow in your eyes.”

Erestor tried to smile despite the pain he felt. This was the last thing he wanted, to feel so torn. Gildor deserved all of his heart, not just a portion set aside while the larger part pined after another.

“I am worried about what may come,” he said softly, opting to discuss his fears rather than the source of his sorrow. “If war comes, you will be in danger. I could not bear it if anything happened to you.”

Gildor smiled warmly, caressing his lover’s face. “I have lived through one great war and many battles. You need not worry about me, my love, I know how to stay alive.”

“But I do worry about you! Every time you leave Imladris, I wonder if I will see you again.” Erestor drew a deep breath. “I cannot lose you, Gildor.”

Gildor drew Erestor down into his arms. “You will not, Erestor. I swear it.”

“Can you not leave the army? Can you not do something else?”

“Such as? I have never done anything but this. I know nothing else; it is who I am.”

“You are more than a soldier,” Erestor whispered. “You are kind and gentle, creative and skilled in woodcraft…”

“Can a warrior not be those things as well?”

Erestor’s hands began slowly stroking his lover’s skin, his long fingers gently tracing the curves of muscle in Gildor’s chest. “Yes,” he answered with a whisper.

“I fight to protect what I love,” Gildor murmured into Erestor’s hair. “I take no joy in killing things.”

“I know.” Erestor lifted his head and gazed into Gildor’s eyes. “I love you,” he murmured.

Gildor smiled. “And I love you, Erestor.” He slipped one hand behind Erestor’s neck and drew his lover into a kiss. It was long and deep, filled with a desperate, aching want. Something still haunted his lover; he could feel it. In the back of his mind, he knew what that something was; but this felt so good, Erestor felt so good, that he pushed that nagging truth away and lost himself in the passion that was between them.

He rolled over, pressing Erestor into the bed and pulling his lover’s hands over his head. “My Erestor,” he murmured huskily, nipping at the soft flesh that lay beneath the collar of Erestor’s soft, white shirt. “You are wearing too many garments.”

Erestor moaned at the sensation of soft lips and a warm tongue suckling his flesh and drawing the blood just beneath the surface. “’Tis lucky for you I have a preference for high collared shirts, seeing as how you like to leave my neck and my chest covered in love bites,” he whispered.

“Indeed. It would be a scandal that would keep tongues wagging in Imladris for weeks.” Gildor chuckled as he moved his mouth from his lover’s neck to his ear.

“You adore scandal, Gildor,” Erestor sighed as he turned his head, a soft gasp escaping him as Gildor’s lips found the point of his ear.

“What I adore is you,” Gildor answered, then sucked the point of Erestor’s ear into his mouth.

“Sweet Elbereth,” Erestor moaned, arching his back and bending his knees, raising them high on his lover’s hips. Gildor’s touch never failed to leave him aching for more.

“And you adore this, don’t you my love? You adore the way I touch you, as if you are mine and mine alone.”

“I do,” Erestor whispered.

“You are mine, Erestor. Do try not to forget that,” Gildor murmured. Before Erestor could respond, he grasped his lover’s jaw and turned his head, covering Erestor’s mouth with his own in a deep kiss.

* * * *

Lindir was folding the cloth he used to clean his lyre when Glorfindel entered. One look at his lover told him something was wrong. “Did something happen?” he asked softly, his face formed by a look of genuine concern.

“Talk of unpleasant, yet inevitable things,” Glorfindel answered, slipping off his boots and leaving them by the door. He held out his hand and his lover crossed the room, taking it and following him to a chair that sat near the doors that led out to the veranda. Lindir had the curtains pulled apart and the doors open, letting in the cool, crisp air. Glorfindel sat in the chair and pulled his lover into his lap. He looked up into Lindir’s sweet face, gazing into his wide, blue eyes. He closed his eyes as Lindir’s long fingers caressed his cheek, then his lover bent down and placed soft kisses upon his face.

“I hate to see you so worried, my love,” Lindir whispered. “Yet, I know you must have cause.” He paused, his thumbs smoothing Glorfindel’s brow, gently working the furrow until it relaxed. “We could leave Middle-earth,” he murmured. “I have never seen Aman, but I have heard tales of its beauty from my lord and lady when I lived with them.”

“I cannot leave, not without having fulfilled my duty,” Glorfindel whispered.

“What if Lord Elrond wishes to leave? Will you have fulfilled your duty then?”

“Aye.” Glorfindel opened his eyes. “But that decision must be up to him, Lindir. No one must lead him to it. He has many important things yet to do.”

Lindir nodded and lowered his eyes. “Forgive me, it is just that I worry about you so.”

Glorfindel caressed his lover’s face. “There are no Balrogs left in Middle-earth, and I have faced and defeated everything else,” he said with a gentle smile.

Lindir smiled despite his concern and laughed softly. “Aye, that you have, my love.” He began slowly unbuttoning Glorfindel’s tunic. Peeling it apart, his fingers traced nearly imperceptible scars; they formed a map of all the battles in which the warrior had ever taken part. One was darker, more visible than the rest; it was the scar left by the whip of the Balrog. “So much pain,” he said softly, watching his lover’s face as Glorfindel closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He rubbed the long, jagged scar with his palm, listening to the soft moan that escaped his lover’s lips, watching as his flesh slowly flushed and his body awoke. He leaned down and canted his head to whisper in Glorfindel’s ear. “You love this don’t you?”

“Yes,” Glorfindel murmured huskily as his lover awakened his desire.

“I have never quite understood why, but then I do not have to understand to give you what you want.”

“You know what it is that I want?” Glorfindel replied huskily.

Lindir smiled. “Aye, my warrior. I do know what you want.” He shifted upon Glorfindel’s lap so that his back was turned to his lover. Continuing to rub the scar upon the warrior’s side, he leaned back against his lover’s chest and arched his back. “This is what you want,” he answered. “And it belongs to you.”

Glorfindel wrapped his arms around Lindir’s waist and buried his face in the minstrel’s hair. “You are wicked, sparrow,” he murmured, sliding one hand between Lindir’s legs. His lover responded with a plaintive moan and began to undulate against him.

“You have made me so,” Lindir responded in a breathless whisper.

“We haven’t much time before we are expected downstairs.”

Lindir smiled and moaned as Glorfindel massaged his rapidly swelling length. “Then you shall have to take me quickly.”

“Your wish is my command, my songbird,” Glorfindel growled, rising from the chair and taking Lindir with him.

* * * *

Erestor cried out, gripping Gildor’s hips in his hands as his lover drove deep inside him. He panted, arching his back and letting his head fall back upon Gildor’s shoulder. His lover’s strong arms held him surely, and he melted into their protective embrace, his legs trembling from having borne his weight in such an awkward position.

Gildor buried his face in Erestor’s raven hair, his own body beginning to tremble from the strain of their now combined weight. His hand slowly slid along his dark lover’s slick length, spreading his spent seed along the silky column of flesh. His own desire abated, he reveled in the warmth of ecstasy, of the feeling of his lover’s body, and the sound of Erestor’s slow, deep breathing. His free hand continued to slowly caress pebbled nipples, sliding through the sweat that beaded on Erestor’s chest. “Mine,” he murmured, and Erestor answered, “Yes.”

Slowly, Gildor lowered their bodies to the bed and held his lover close, trying to stay inside him. Erestor purred like a cat – gods how he loved that sound, it caused gooseflesh to rise all over his body. “Satisfied?” he whispered, nuzzling Erestor’s ear.

“Most satisfied,” Erestor replied, a sleepy smile curving his lips. “I love you, Gildor.”

Gildor took a deep breath and pulled his lover closer. “And I love you, Erestor.”

*****

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