Resurrection 36

Resurrection

Part 36

Posted: January 26, 2007
Title: Resurrection
Author: Larien Elengasse

Summary: Erestor and Glorfindel are joined; Thranduil’s party travels east.

*****

A soft breeze blew in through the windows of Glorfindel’s chamber, setting the soft draperies to fluttering. He could hear the sea and its enduring call, beckoning to him and all those of his kind. One day, he would heed that call, but not this night. This night a new life began; this night he would hold Erestor in his arms and make love to him.

For just a moment, his heart froze and he panicked. What if Erestor changed his mind? What if he could not bring himself to let Gildor leave? What would he do if that were the case? A soft knock fell upon his door and he answered it, trembling fingers closing on the handle and turning it.

Erestor had been crying, and that was understandable; he had loved Gildor. He reached out and drew the councilor into his arms as he closed the door. He guided Erestor into the room, softly stroking his hair and placing gentle kisses upon his head. “Is all left well between you?” he asked quietly.

“Aye. Gildor is an amazing elf, Glorfindel.”

“That he is; he single-handedly saved my life at least twice in Mordor.”

“And for that, I will be forever grateful to him.” He looked into Glorfindel’s eyes. “This night is for us, my lion. Let us start our new lives by putting our old lives behind us.”

“Agreed,” Glorfindel murmured as he took Erestor’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply.

Soft moans echoed between them as they rediscovered one another. No more stolen, guilty moments; this night and each night thereafter, they would make long, passionate leisurely love to one another.

As the kiss lengthened, their passion for one another rose. Erestor could not get Glorfindel naked fast enough, nor could the warrior navigate the complicated clasps on Erestor’s robes quickly enough.

“For the love of the Valar, why do you have to have so many cursed clasps!” Glorfindel half-grumbled as he fumbled with the intricate metal closures.

“And why do you have to wear so many layers!” Erestor growled playfully, batting Glorfindel’s hands away so he could jerk the warrior’s tunic off his shoulders. “To Mordor with your undershirt!” he ripped the thin cloth off the warrior’s torso. He jerked at the laces on Glorfindel’s breeches as his lover struggled out of his boots.

As the robe finally slipped free from Erestor’s shoulders, Glorfindel exclaimed, “Pants? You are wearing pants under that monstrosity?”

Erestor paused and looked down, his arousal clearly straining against his velvet leggings. “At least mine are not laced from crotch to navel!” He finally jerked the leather pants past Glorfindel’s hips. He kicked off his shoes and the leggings as Glorfindel pulled them free, then he laughed as the warrior lifted him and carried him to the bed.

“Ai!” he shouted as he was tossed to the soft mattress and the Elda fell upon him with enthusiasm. “Oh, oh . . . oh Valar…” he breathed as Glorfindel’s hand slid, fingers splayed wide, down his stomach and between his legs. He arched his back, gripping the warrior’s back as he thrust into his hand. “Sweet Elbereth, yes!”

“There is not one tiny place that I am not going to touch, kiss, suck and bite this eve, my lusty raven.”

“Mmm… promises, promises,” Erestor moaned, fisting Glorfindel’s hair and hauling the warrior’s mouth to his own.

“Gods, if I do not have you now, right now, I am going to go mad,” Glorfindel growled.

“Then take me, my lion,” Erestor purred. “Claim me and mark me as your own.” He gasped as Glorfindel flipped him to his stomach and spread his legs with his knees. He wadded the bedcovers in his fists as he arched his back, flexing his hips and grinding his arousal against the soft silk sheets.

He closed his eyes and listened to Glorfindel preparing himself, then he gasped and bucked against the warrior’s hand as his beloved’s fingers slid inside him. “Oh, yes,” he purred, “that feels so good, so good…” He cried out as the Elda found his mark, half in pain, and half in rapture. His body bowed and he pulled his knees underneath him. “For nearly an age, I have dreamed of this,” he murmured. “Take me, please.”

Glorfindel pushed inside Erestor, gripping his shoulders as he was seated deep inside his beloved’s body. “Sweet Eru,” he breathed, his mind swimming, his unguarded thoughts swirling in his brain and reaching out for Erestor’s. “This is where I belong,” he whispered. “You are my soul’s mate.”

Erestor drew a ragged gasp, from both the breaching and the sensations that flooded his body and his mind. He could hear Glorfindel’s voice, his thoughts, he could feel what Glorfindel felt, and it was overwhelming. So much love, so much passion and desire . . . it was all so vivid, so clear, as if he had been swimming in a fog for nigh on an age. “Oh gods, oh dear gods,” Erestor whispered. “I love you so much, so much…”

He felt Glorfindel’s warm breath on his ear. “You need not say it, my love,” the Elda’s deep voice murmured. “I can feel it.”

Slowly, Glorfindel began to move within him. He felt what Glorfindel felt; the bond between them growing stronger each second they made love. This was his home, this place that defied the physical world, this place where their hearts and souls joined. This was not what they told you when they spoke of bonding, but he knew with unwavering certainty that that was exactly what was happening.

“Always, I am yours always,” he whispered as his beloved’s turgid length delved inside him and opened him wide.

“Always, I will live for you,” Glorfindel replied.

The intensity of their joining was too much for it to last much longer. Erestor cried out, his lover’s strong hand milking his seed from his length, as Glorfindel’s essence flooded his body.

They collapsed upon the bed and Erestor drew Glorfindel’s arms close around him. He still held the Elda inside him and he blinked lazily. His body tingled all over and each small movement of a finger or a toe caused another wave of bliss to flood his limbs.

“I love you, Erestor,” Glorfindel whispered huskily.

“I love you, Glorfindel,” Erestor replied, a broad smile curving his lips.

* * * *

They had traveled far from the Havens and had now reached the pass between the Misty and the White mountains. In another five days, they would reach Thranduil’s home north of the Forest Road.

Gildor had become an unofficial escort to Legolas, and over the weeks of their journey had found himself quite taken by the young prince. Legolas was but forty years old and he definitely possessed a youthful exuberance and curiosity; however, there was something perplexingly mature about the prince that Gildor could not quite understand. At times, the interaction between them was as one would expect: Gildor was a mentor in some regard, as Glorfindel had been to Thranduil, but at other times Gildor would feel strangely naïve and inexperienced in Legolas’ presence. It was as if the young prince had some insight into the nature of life to which no one else was privy.

Anor was setting in the west as they made camp near Fangorn Forest. Gildor placed his pack near the bole of a large tree and closed his eyes, listening to the murmuring of the trees. He felt Legolas’ hand slip inside his own and he smiled.

“Will I learn to understand them one day?” the prince asked.

“Aye, my prince, you will, and you will find that they are our friends.”

“I love trees,” Legolas said quietly. “I like to climb into their arms and let them cradle me like a babe. My father still climbs trees, he says they bring him comfort.”

Gildor grinned. He wondered how Thranduil would feel about the picture Legolas painted of him. “Your father is most wise.”

“My father is in love, with Lindir,” the prince replied without preamble.

Gildor blinked and looked down at Legolas. “How come you by this knowledge?”

“I see the way he looks at him, the way he smiles when Lindir is near. He never looked that way at my mother, but my grandmother did look that way at my grandfather. My grandmother loved grandfather so much that she will fade now. It is why she sailed to Aman.” Legolas cocked his head. “Have you ever looked at anyone like that?”

Gildor knew what Legolas spoke of; indeed, he had seen it himself. His surprise was not in that Thranduil loved Lindir; his surprise was in the prince’s recognition of that love. “Does it disturb you, that your father looks at Lindir that way? Or that your grandmother will fade?”

“No,” Legolas answered. “I want my father to be happy. He cared about my mother, this I know, but I do not think he ever felt the way about her that he feels about Lindir. And as for my grandmother, when she dies, then she and my grandfather will be reunited in Mandos’ Halls.” He looked thoughtfully at Gildor. “You have not answered my question.”

As usual, the common trick of deflecting a child’s curiosity with another question did not work with the prince. He thought about it, and then answered, “No. I have loved another, this is true. But I have never felt that sort of love that makes one’s heart skip or their breath grow short.”

“You will, one day,” the prince answered with a knowing smile. “Will you sit beside me while we break our fast?”

“Of course. Lead on, my prince.”

* * * *

Lindir placed his pack beside Thranduil’s own. Each night they lay in their respective bedrolls, close enough that they could reach out and touch one another. Each night, they fell asleep gazing into the other’s eyes and holding hands, waiting for the night when they might finally make love in seclusion. Lindir had been careful around Legolas; he worried what the prince’s reaction might be to another suitor to his father’s heart so soon after his mother’s departure. Thankfully, Legolas seemed more than preoccupied with Gildor, and true to form, Gildor was being an excellent sport about it. He smiled as he felt Thranduil’s hand upon his wrist, and he looked up into the king’s eyes.

“Come,” Thranduil whispered. “Follow me.”

Lindir obliged with a smile.

*****

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