Resurrection 26

Resurrection

Part 26

Posted: December 29, 2006
Title: Resurrection
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Glorfindel and Lindir seek comfort in the familiar; Thranduil sees his future.

*****

Glorfindel stood on the wide front porch of the Last Homely House as Anor set. His eyes scanned the courtyard and the hills beyond; there was no sign of Thranduil or Lindir.

Erestor stood behind him, with Gildor at his side, noting the worry in Glorfindel’s posture. “I am sure everything is fine. Thranduil is capable enough should they run afoul.”

“Shall I go look for them?” Gildor asked, one eyebrow raising as Erestor shot him a reproachful glance.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Erestor grumbled. “You are in no shape to…”

Glorfindel turned. “I will go. They have been gone too long.” He paused, placing his hand upon Gildor’s shoulder. “I am going to change into garments more appropriate for riding, then I will leave. Make my apologies to Lord Elrond for missing the meal.”

Gildor nodded and watched his friend walk into the house.

“Wait!” Erestor called.

Glorfindel turned and saw Thranduil walking into the courtyard with Lindir upon his back. He jogged down the stairs as Thranduil sat Lindir upon the ground. He could tell with one look that Lindir was in pain. “Where have you been? I was just going out to look for you.”

“’Tis my fault,” Thranduil said. “I wanted to see what was on the other side of the hills and Lindir was too gracious to spoil my plan.”

“That is a bold-faced lie, Thranduil Oropherion,” Lindir chided. “It is my fault. I know my limits and I ignored them; I did not tell the prince that I could not walk so far – he did not know…”

“Are you all right, sparrow?” Glorfindel asked softly.

“’Tis nothing that a warm bath will not cure,” he answered, his eyes widening in surprise as Glorfindel scooped him up in his arms.

“I will massage your leg, just for good measure,” he said as he climbed the stairs toward the house with Thranduil in tow.

“I truly am sorry,” Thranduil said quietly as he followed.

“There is nothing for you to be sorry for, my liege,” Glorfindel replied. “Thank you for seeing him home safely.”

Thranduil stopped at the door and watched Glorfindel carry Lindir up the stairs.

“How far did you go?” Erestor asked, also watching his friend carry the minstrel.

“To the bottom of the stair that leads to the Bruinen.”

“And you carried him all the way home on your back?” Gildor asked in surprise.

“I could not leave him there alone, and there was no one in sight.”

Gildor clapped the prince on the back. “I think you need a warm bath and a massage just as badly as Lindir does, my prince.”

Thranduil smiled begrudgingly. “Aye, I am sure I smell less than regal.”

Erestor sighed. “Perhaps it is best for you rest this evening, my lord. I will have some food sent to you in your quarters, if you desire.”

Thranduil nodded. “My thanks, Erestor. I am quite weary now.”

“I will also send one of the healers. They are quite skilled in working soreness out of one’s muscles.”

Thranduil nodded and walked up the stairs toward his guest chamber.

Erestor turned to make for the kitchens when he saw Gildor looking at him with a less than pleased expression. “What?”

“Do not treat me as if I were a piece of crystal or some addled fool, Erestor.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I offered to go look for Lindir and the prince, and you treated me as if I were an elfling.”

“I was merely worried about…”

“I know what you were doing, and it is high time you stop. You cannot keep me wrapped in linen and safely ensconced inside this house. I will return to my duties and resume my life as it was before the war.”

“I . . . I just want you to be careful. I came so close to losing you . . . I…”

Gildor stepped forward and took Erestor’s face in his hands. “I know you do what you do out of love, but you simply must stop, Erestor. I am not fragile, and I cannot be cautious and safe for you. I cannot be anyone other than who I am…”

Erestor pressed their foreheads together. “I know. Forgive me, my love.”

Gildor smiled and nuzzled his lover’s lips. “Forgiven, this time…” He winked.

* * * *

Lindir sat on the side of his bed as Glorfindel removed his shoes. “I am sorry I worried you,” he murmured.

“No harm done. I am relieved that you are home safe,” Glorfindel answered. “Do you need help disrobing?”

“No. I can do it myself,” Lindir replied, rising from the bed and hobbling into his bathing chamber.

“Can you get into the bath by yourself?”

“Yes.”

Glorfindel sat in a chair and listened as Lindir bathed, then he rose and retrieved a sleeping robe for him, and turned down the bed. Reaching inside the door, he hung the gown upon a peg. “Here is something to sleep in,” he said quietly.

“Thank you,” Lindir answered.

He gathered some towels and a phial of massage oil, then removed his formal robe and draped it upon the back of a tall chair. Lindir emerged from the bath, dressed in the robe, and limped to the bed, climbing in and sighing as he stretched out on his back.

Glorfindel placed towels beneath Lindir’s leg then poured a small amount of oil into his hands.

“Will I ever be as I was?” Lindir asked quietly, his gaze focused on the canopy of his bed.

“I cannot answer that, sparrow,” Glorfindel murmured as he began slowly, gently working the muscles in Lindir’s leg. “I think you should speak with Lord Elrond. There may be more he can do.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Lindir answered in almost a whisper as his eyelids began to flutter. “That feels good,” he murmured.

Glorfindel slowly worked the muscles, starting at Lindir’s ankle, gently squeezing and running his hands up the minstrel’s calf, past his knee, finally reaching his thigh. This used to be a sensual experience for them both; Glorfindel tried to forget that and focus on simply making his sparrow feel better.

Once reaching the apex of his thigh, he worked his way back down to Lindir’s foot, and then repeated this process until the minstrel’s skin was flushed and warm to the touch and any hint of discomfort had faded from Lindir’s face. The sleeping gown Lindir wore was made of a light material, and the affect his touch had on the minstrel was becoming evident from beneath the thin gown.

His own body was responding in kind; he could feel the growing heat in his core and his length was beginning to stir inside his breeches. He paused, his thumbs working small circles on the inside and outside of Lindir’s thigh. Lindir’s eyes were closed, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling with an increasing rhythm. He knew his sparrow so well, he knew every nuance of the Noldo’s body, how it moved, how it responded to him; no one knew Lindir like he did.

“What do you want me to do, sparrow?” he murmured. “You have but to ask it of me.”

A tear slipped from Lindir’s eye and he whispered. “I want you to love me more than anyone in the world. I want you to love me, alone.”

The aching, gnawing pain that had been present since he and Erestor had come together in the woods flared bright inside him. How could he love and want Lindir so much, while aching for Erestor so badly?

Lindir’s eyes opened and he looked at Glorfindel. His warrior did not need to say a word – Lindir could read his thoughts on his face. He reached up slowly, his long fingers closing on the collar of Glorfindel’s undershirt. “But since I cannot have what I truly want, I will take your touch instead.” He pulled the warrior down and kissed him.

Glorfindel’s body immediately responded to Lindir as if it had a mind of its own. He lowered himself to the bed, taking care not to rest his weight upon his lover’s sore leg, kicking off his shoes as he took Lindir’s face in his hands. They kissed slowly, their hands rediscovering one another, their bodies falling back into the familiar dance of lovemaking.

* * * *

Thranduil sat by the fire, dressed in a pair of sleeping pants, his skin flushed and softly glistening from the massage he had just received. He held a letter from his mother in his hand; in it, she relayed the good news that she and his father had chosen a perfect mate for him. It was the custom in his land that the parents should choose the mate; only his father had broken with that tradition, taking his mother of his own accord shortly after their arrival in the great wood. The courtship would be long, the ceremony auspicious, and it was expected that he would provide an heir. It was his duty, he knew that, and he imagined he would end up like his father, having a wife and lying with ellyn when the mood struck him.

He had hoped that he and Lindir might make a good match, despite knowing that it was expected that he have children. It was also clear to him now that whatever was between Lindir and Glorfindel was not over.

He sighed and laid the letter down, his gaze focusing on the stars in the sky and his mind wandering to a fair minstrel.

*****

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