Posted: July 2004
Title: The Sweetness Follows
Author: Talullah
Type: FCS
Characters: Erestor/Môrlach (OMC); Glorfindel/Erestor
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Despite the title this piece is a bit dark. At a certain point emotional abuse is described.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They're JRR Tolkien heirs' and God knows who else. No disrespect intended. "Sweetness Follows" is the title of an REM song. Citations are credited in the end.
Author's Notes: Once again I've made the Elves a bit gossipy and homosexuality tolerated with a frown. This is entirely AU, of course. The Winter Solstice tradition mentioned is my invention. Both Glorfindel and Erestor are relatively young at the beginning of this fic, i.e., slightly less than 180 years old. This whole fic sprung around the scene where Glorfindel misses his father, hence the title. At a certain moment Tori Amos' "Honey" was at the back of my mind, exuding Glorfindel and Môrlach/Erestor was inspired by "Caught a lite sneeze" in a very dark day. The last sex scene is a small homage to "Tiny dancer", by B. Taupin.

Big thanks to Patricia for providing the plot line to place Erestor in Gondolin, for the Elvish names and for enlightenment on some other aspects. Writing the repercussions of her plot line into the Erestor I had was fascinating and terribly hard. Thanks hon. :-)

If I dared to write again and on such a pairing was in good part due to Mirasaui's support and patience while I explored jumbled thoughts on writing and creativity and doubted if I should go on. This fic is for her.

And at last but certainly not least, thank you Eni, sweet, generous Eni, critic Eni. Your betaing contributed to make this fic so much better and forced me to reflect on many details that had slipped from my fingers unnoticed. *hugs Eni*. Any remaining mistakes are solely mine.

Summary: Erestor has trouble accepting love.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1

Gondolin, 124 First Age

Glorfindel had been away for two weeks, training in the hills with the younger members of his House, when a boy brought him a sealed parchment. The boy had come in full gallop and was covered in dust. He dared not look in Glorfindel's eyes, and was quickly dismissed. He almost ran to tend to his exhausted horse.

The message was very succinct: Saelrusc, his father's oldest councillor and friend, begged him to return immediately, offering no explanation. This was most unusual and Glorfindel's first thoughts were for his father. He ran to the improvised paddock and mounted his horse. He would be able to reach Gondolin before the last sunlight died in the skies if he left immediately.

He left with few words to his companions. Surely the city was safe, otherwise the boy would have told him something or the letter would ask for all of them to come, so this had to be about his father. He refused to allow his mind to form clear images or words, but his heart was heavy.

The road seemed endless, but he finally arrived at the doors of his House. They were open and many people were crossing them, both ways. As he proceeded into the hall, he saw Saelrusc at the base of the main stairs, talking to a servant. Glorfindel ran to him. Saelrusc hugged him so tightly it hurt and said, "Pen-neth, it is good that you came today."

As he parted from the embrace, Glorfindel noticed Saelrusc's eyes were swollen and red. "What is happening, Saelrusc?"

"Pen-neth, I have something to tell you." In all the years Glorfindel had known Saelrusc, he had never seen him avoid a direct answer.

"It is my father, is it not? What happened to him? Is he hurt?" As the questions jumped from Glorfindel's lips, Saelrusc's expression grew dimmer.

"Pen-neth, you know your father has missed your mother very much."

"Where is he? Don't tell me it has started! He is not leaving us for Mandos!"

"He has been leaving us for many years now, you know that." Saelrusc suddenly looked old, defeated. "Pen-neth, he has joined your mother."

"NO!" Glorfindel pushed Saelrusc back and ran up the stairs into his father's rooms. The servants looked startled as he rushed in and stepped aside swiftly. His father lay in the bed. All curtains were shut and the only light came from two small candles on the bedside tables. His father looked pale, almost translucent. Someone shut the door silently, leaving him alone with his father's body.

He fell on his knees at the side of the bed. This was not his father; it was a stranger he had never met. Where was that kind smile, so sad in the last years, but always present? Those hands were so still; his father's hands were never still. They were always building, teaching, comforting, loving. And that dull hair; when had his father's hair become so dull? Why had he not noticed? He could see now grey strands at his temple, mingling with the black.

Glorfindel wanted to touch that grotesque caricature laying on the bed but repulsion stopped him. He could not bring himself to believe that was his father and so he fled the room.

Later, Saelrusc found him in the far end of the gardens, leaning on a tree. It was late in the night and Glorfindel had not dined. Saelrusc still saw the little elfling clinging to his robes in a distant, happier place, begging for one more tickling session. Glorfindel was the son of his dearest friend and Saelrusc could not help but to think of him as his own.

"Pen-neth, come inside. Please." Saelrusc petted Glorfindel's hair slowly.

After a long pause Glorfindel asked, "Is it true, Sael?"

Saelrusc knelt slowly next to Glorfindel and held him. "Aye," was his only answer. Glorfindel leaned on his shoulder and sighed. He felt hollow; his mind exhausted from racing through so many conflicting thoughts, his heart numb, his blood cold.

His father was dead? An inconceivable thought. How could that be? But he knew how: his father had been holding on to life, a mere shadow of himself for his son's and his House's sake. From the very day his mother had passed away, his father had started wilting before their eyes.

Now that he had lost another, Glorfindel felt nothing; not even guilt for his coldness.

Saelrusc broke the silence. "This place reminds me of your old home. Do you remember how your father used to spend hours in the garden playing with you under the sun?" He knew he was being cruel, but it was necessary. Glorfindel needed to cry, to scream, to suffer. Shutting the pain out would not do him any good.

His blow had been effective. Glorfindel tried to answer but no words left his mouth. As pain and acceptance finally ripped through him, he clasped Saelrusc's clothes and cried. He sobbed like a child as the full understanding of his loss hit him. Faellaer had been more than a caring father and the head of his House; he had been Glorfindel's closest friend, the most constant presence in his life; his beacon.

~~~~~~

On the next day, the leaders of the other houses and many other friends came to salute him and extend their condolences. He knew most of them fairly well, for they had met on several occasions, formal and informal. Some were his friends. Others were close to his father and he could see the undisguised grief in their faces. He felt lonelier than ever. They all seemed strange to him. Strangers. Or was he the stranger?

At night, the poignant feeling of loss hit him again as he entered his father's rooms, now empty, looking for a familiar presence. He sat at his mother's dresser and opened the top drawer. Her brush was still there. He could see his father repeating the same gestures every night for the last decade. Drawing the brush near to his face, inhaling the scent long gone, caressing the few strands of blonde hair left there. Traces of an interrupted life. Now they were together. Maybe it was better this way, but their absence was a spear driven into his side.

~~~~~~

A week later Glorfindel wandered through the halls, musing. Since the funerary rites, he had not returned to his usual responsibilities and had not moved to assume his father's. He was moving through life as if in a waking dream, but had the vague notion he was being spared in his grief.

He decided it was time to dive into the main course of life. Glorfindel knew what lay ahead of him – it was his duty to lead his father's House, the House of the Golden Flower. He was to be a military leader and a caretaker for those who had trusted Faellaer. Glorfindel had every intention of making his father proud and his House prosper.

The following day, there would be the customary weekly meeting, in which the details of the running of the House were settled and sometimes larger decisions were taken. Glorfindel intended to be there and to take his rightful place. He had a hard time reconciling sleep, but the next morning he was ready and sharp. His father had prepared him throughout his life to be a leader, but he intended to approach this meeting humbly. He realized many of the older councillors, who still called him pen-neth, could be offended by an energetic stance; and in any event, he did not feel especially vigorous or forceful.

As the meeting went on, the insidious suspicion that his councillors were doing their best to drive decisions away from his hands started to form. Glorfindel did not pay it much attention, though. Many of these persons had known him as a child and certainly were trying to shelter and aid him in this difficult time.

During the following week he felt a little superfluous, but he attributed it to this concerted effort designed to spare him. In the next meeting the same attitude prevailed. Glorfindel tried to make a few suggestions, always considering his relative youth and inexperience when voicing them, but they were all kindly but firmly rebuked, leaving him little choice but to approve others' suggestions.

As this pattern went on, Glorfindel felt more and more detached from his House. He was being denied the responsibilities that were rightfully his and had no idea of how to recover them. He quickly reassumed his previous military duties. No one would deny him those, but he started spending more time away. It was humiliating to feel he was in the way in his own House. He had survived Alqualondë, though, being too young, he had not fought, and the Helcaraxë, but was not thought competent enough to pronounce himself on the smallest matters.

He had found something to distract him; though it was not always easy to pass unnoticed because of his golden hair, he walked everyday through the market and had started to blend in well. In the midst of all that agitation and colour he felt alive, but still apart, isolated.

It was in one of these walks that he first saw Erestor. He stood out from the crowd like a fire in the darkness. Glorfindel could see that nobody else noticed that remarkable elf, and it amazed him, until he realized why: he was as detached from his surroundings as himself. An air of abandonment about him made him almost invisible to others, but not to Glorfindel, who felt equally invisible.

Glorfindel watched the mysterious elf for a while, as he progressed through the market. He knew many people in Gondolin; most of them, in fact. This elf could not be new in the city, but Glorfindel was sure that he had never seen him.

They would meet, he decided. He made a discreet inquiry with one of the vendors and came to learn that the elf was a member of the House of the Fountain, of Ecthelion's staff. Apparently, this elf took a stroll in the market in the early morning every day, but rarely bought anything. When he did, normally it was writing material. He always wore dark clothes and spoke to very few people.

Glorfindel had maintained a friendly, close relationship with Ecthelion until his father's death. Ecthelion was the youngest of the house leaders; they shared many interests and frequently met to spar or ride.

A courtesy visit had been due for sometime, so the next morning Glorfindel went to Ecthelion's House. This was not very common; their meetings were normally informal and outdoors.

Echtelion received him in his office, a large room with broad windows and bookshelves up to the ceiling. Glorfindel had never been there and let his eyes wander. The room seemed to be a cross between a library and a communal office.

Ecthelion stepped from behind his desk and came to him, enfolding him in a tight hug.

"How are you, meldir?" His tone showed concern and affection. Ecthelion had lost his parents long ago and sympathised deeply with his friend.

"I am as you see me. And you, meldir? Working hard, I see…"

"Well, yes. I am sorry for receiving you here, but I am waiting for some last papers to sign. As soon as they arrive we will go into the gardens for a stroll and a good talk."

As Ecthelion spoke, two elves entered the room. One of them was the elf from the market. They nodded politely towards Glorfindel and presented the papers to Ecthelion before leaving silently.

Glorfindel stood idly, waiting for Ecthelion to finish his work. He could not help but notice the differences between himself and his friend. Ecthelion was a House leader, not a mere seneschal or a prow figure. His staff depended on him; they came to him for decision and counsel. His large desk was filled with papers in that kind of disorganized order his father had always had, not empty as his own.

When Ecthelion finished, he led Glorfindel into the gardens. After a few moments of mindless chat, Glorfindel could not help being blunt. "Who was the younger elf in your study just now?"

"Oh, how rude of me. I should have introduced you. His name is Erestor. He is one of my best councillors."

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow. "Really? He looked young, not much older than me. Of course it is always hard to tell with our people, but…"

"No, you are right. He is, I believe, only slightly older than you, but I do trust his judgement. He is very devoted to his work and has deep political intuition. And why are you curious about him, may I ask?"

"Oh, I just had the feeling I had never seen him before." Glorfindel hated the small lie, but somehow it was awkward telling his friend the real reason for his visit.

Ecthelion smirked. "There is good reason for your oblivion. Erestor has a remarkable ability to make himself forgotten. Very useful at times, I should say. Also, he lives as a recluse. Come, let us go inside. I want you to meet him."

As they walked back, Glorfindel once more wondered why this sudden curiosity about this Erestor had arisen.

Ecthelion lead him back to the same room. Erestor was there, working alone. Ecthelion promptly introduced him to Glorfindel. Erestor greeted him formally and prepared to leave, but Ecthelion asked him to stay longer.

"Erestor is a pearl; I cannot imagine what it would be like running this House without him," Ecthelion complimented in a light tone. "However he is quite shy and does not have many friends. Or maybe that is his tongue's doing." Ecthelion smiled and it was clear he teased, but Glorfindel noticed an obvious frown forming on Erestor's face. Ecthelion noticed it too. "I did not mean it that way, Erestor. You know how much I appreciate you, and if your tongue is feared it is because it is always truthful. Come, sit by me. Glorfindel is a dear friend and I want you both to become friends also".

Glorfindel was surprised. For Ecthelion to praise him so highly twice, Erestor must truly be an important member of his House. Ecthelion never spoke unless it was from his heart. On the other hand, Erestor was intriguing; during the rest of the time of Glorfindel's visit he never uttered a word, but never seemed distracted. What hid beneath all that reserve?

Ecthelion had guests for lunch and invited Glorfindel to join them, but he declined. It was still hard to bear the company of a large crowd and Ecthelion was probably conducting some negotiations. The presence of the head of another House, even a useless one such as himself, would not be comfortable for host or guests.

As he was leaving, Ecthelion called him to one side. "I know you are going through a hard time." Glorfindel nodded. "Erestor is grieving too, a grief of another kind. Surely you have noticed he is very sombre."

"Yes, yet he intrigues me and you do praise him so. May I enquire as to the reason for this sadness?" Glorfindel knew he had just breached one of the first rules of politeness and cringed inwardly, but there, the question was out.

Ecthelion smiled at his frown and put a hand on his shoulder. "I thought I had seen some interest there. He does need friends. He is very hurt, but it is not my place to tell you why."

"I am sorry, Ecthelion, I did not mean to put you in such a delicate position. I do not know what came over me." Glorfindel offered his apologies sincerely, but was still curious.

"Think nothing of it, meldir." Ecthelion's smile was frank as always. Glorfindel started to remember why they had been so close before his life went dark.

A simple "Thank you," was enough for both of them.

~~~~~~~

A few days later, Glorfindel met Erestor in the market. Once more, the advisor greeted him formally and was preparing to leave when Glorfindel invited him for dinner at his House. Erestor looked astonished. "Thank you, Lord Glorfindel. Your invitation is very kind but you need not concern yourself with me, despite Lord Ecthelion's words."

"I did not invite you out of pity or out of some sense of obligation. Any friend of Ecthelion's is mine too, especially one he thinks of so highly." Glorfindel paused and studied Erestor's reaction.

Erestor was left with little choice. "Very well. I thank you, and accept."

~~~~~~~

Glorfindel felt slightly anxious about the idea of dining with Erestor. He was the first person he had invited to his House in non-official circumstances after his father's death and he was not sure what the reactions would be. Besides, Erestor was so quiet. It could have been a very awkward evening, but Erestor surprised him. He was perfectly amiable all evening and engaged in a long conversation with Saelrusc and other elder members of his House, mainly on political issues and House management. Erestor listened more than he spoke and asked many questions, some of which Glorfindel suspected he already knew the answers. He could have said Erestor was the perfect guest. Actually, Glorfindel was the silent one. It was hard not to observe, as Erestor gained the elders' consideration so elegantly, whilst revealing so little of himself.

Later, when Glorfindel accompanied Erestor to the hall, he could not help but comment upon it. "I thought you never spoke," he tried to joke.

"Any other behaviour would have been an insult to you and to your House. Besides, it can be a pleasure talking with the older and wiser. I bid you good night." And he left with that laconic remark, leaving Glorfindel to wonder about his sudden change of tone.

~~~~~~~

Their meetings, formal and informal became more frequent. Gradually Erestor came to trust Glorfindel and appreciate his presence. Glorfindel was one who could stand his silences comfortably. They were very different in their interests, but not in their principles, and that became the foundation for a strong friendship.

They often went riding in the late afternoon. Many times they stopped and sat on the grass talking about books, politics, art and daily little nothings. Sometimes Erestor slept while Glorfindel drew. He was an excellent landscapist but, to his regret, not very good at portraits. He longed to be able to capture his friend's expression in his sleep. Erestor then looked peaceful, almost happy, free of the usual gloom. "What could have made Erestor this sad?" he mused. Erestor had become an excellent friend and he could see perfectly why he held Ecthelion's admiration and esteem.

Nevertheless, Erestor was very hard to understand. Most of their mutual friends and acquaintances thought he was straightforward; a stern being with a dry, perhaps quirky sense of humour, rarely shown.

Glorfindel saw much more in Erestor, and what he saw made him want to know more. He noticed his friend had a sharp tongue – everybody noticed that, but not that he used it sparingly. But he also noticed that Erestor never laughed at something cruel, and that he never humiliated others through laughter. It reminded him of his father's words, "Nothing shows a man's character more than what he laughs at."

As they became closer, his bafflement increased. Erestor had a side to him that most people disregarded easily, though it was the best part of him. He was kind and spent many hours aiding others, never expecting to be thanked, and he rarely was indeed. It almost seemed he took pride in his invisibility.

Occasionally he wondered how Erestor might feel about being judged so quickly and never reappraised. Hurt, trapped, perhaps, and always alone. Yet it seemed to be a voluntary condition and Erestor did not seem to mind it most of the time. He never once tried to justify himself or indulge in self-pity. Whenever one of those supposedly judicious remarks came, he shrugged. Occasionally, when the person had no real right to complain, he uttered one cold, "Have I ever wronged you?" and left it at that.

Glorfindel came to resent those comments; he was hurt by the way Erestor's motives and actions were misread. Erestor's laconic style and his isolation were the fruit of shyness and a certain sadness, never hauteur. Could that be so hard to see? He wanted to offer his solidarity, but most times his friend pushed him away. Once or twice he did confess he was hurt, though through cryptic humorous remarks. That was his way.

~~~~~~~

As they grew closer, Erestor dared to probe Glorfindel as to the reasons for his obvious detachment from his House and his responsibilities, apart from the military. He was not sure on how to approach such a difficult subject without seeming reproachful or presuming too much intimacy, but he worried about Glorfindel. It was obvious that he was not pleased with the state of matters.

One day, while Glorfindel sketched, Erestor finally came around to it. "Glorfindel, I was wondering about the functioning of your House. You must have an exceptional system of organisation."

"What do you mean?" The tension in Glorfindel's voice was obvious and Erestor vacillated, but then decided that he should finish what he had started.

"Well, you do have much more free time than Ecthelion, for instance."

Glorfindel stopped sketching abruptly and dropped his work. He rose from the dry grass and started pacing back and forth.

"Meldir, something troubles you."

"Yes, yes, yes!" Glorfindel was of a sunny nature and Erestor knew how difficult it was to enrage him. He could not tell if the harsh tone was meant for him or for whatever it was that kept him from fulfilling his duties.

After a few minutes, Glorfindel slumped down and sighed, bowing his head. "I… this is very difficult for me. Humiliating." He sighed again.

Erestor squeezed his shoulder. "Never mind me. You do not have to tell me anything."

"No, I need to talk to someone." Glorfindel was the living image of misery. Erestor rubbed his back and waited.

Finally Glorfindel blurted, "Well, it bothers me that I am not doing my job, as you have so delicately pointed out. I am their leader in name only. I am treated as an impertinent child in council and I have little authority in most matters. This is not what my father would have wanted for his son. If he can watch Vairë's tapestries, he must surely be disappointed. But I do not know how to reclaim my responsibilities without offending the ones who strove so hard to spare me in my darkest hour."

Erestor felt sorry for his friend, but he could offer him no easy way out. He smiled kindly and patted Glorfindel's knee "You must go slowly, meldir."

~~~~~~~

Some time later, Glorfindel was talking with Saelrusc after dinner. He was trying to follow Erestor's advice and let his old friend know that he had grown up and was healing and that it was time to take on his responsibilities. As he mentioned Ecthelion as an example, Saelrusc said, "I noticed you have become quite close to his councillor, Erestor."

"Yes, you could say so, though Erestor does not reveal much of himself." Glorfindel's curiosity was piqued. "Do you know him? I mean, besides that dinner."

"Yes, I do. As you know, I spent some time in Fëanor's court as an emissary and my wife has some relatives there, so I had heard of Erestor and briefly met him before he came here."

"Oh, is that so?" Saelrusc could be quite the talkative type if properly encouraged and Glorfindel burned to learn more about his friend and his mysterious past.

"Yes, yes. He was a very gifted youngster at Fëanor's court, though already a bit isolated. I hold him in high regard, despite his personal choices."

"Personal choices? What do you mean?"

"Well, he lived for sometime with Môrlach, the son of my wife's cousin."

"What do you mean? Why should he live with this Môrlach, or why should it be strange? Were they not kin?"

Saelrusc looked embarrassed. "Well, their relationship was of a special nature."

Glorfindel looked quizzical.

"Well, umm, er… they shared a bed…"

Glorfindel's silence encouraged Saelrusc's taste for detail and thus he came to learn some of the circumstances of this affair and its ending with Môrlach's death. The reports were conflicting and most of the information came from Môrlach's accounts, for Erestor had remained silent on these matters, keeping his dignity.

"So, you mean he is bonded; he is bonded by marriage to this Môrlach?" Glorfindel concluded.

"I do not know if the same laws apply. I know a few such lovers and they do behave as if married, but the Valar gave us no clear ruling of such unions. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason, mere curiosity. After all, he is a friend and a troubled one."

"You've been asking an awful lot of questions about this nér, if I might say so."

"Well, you have answered an awful lot of them and with great knowledge, apparently." Glorfindel's tone was polite, as if to smooth the harsh content of his answer, but no mistake was made in its interpretation. He immediately regretted aiming such a disrespectful comment at such a venerable, dear old friend.

Saelrusc nodded silently and moved to leave, but Glorfindel stopped him. "I apologise. I do not know what came over me. Please forgive me, Sael. Erestor is a dear friend."

Glorfindel looked contrite and Saelrusc smiled indulgently. "Pen-neth, you are too impulsive."

~~~~~~~

Glorfindel had never questioned deeply the nature of his interest in Erestor. It seemed fairly obvious to him. Erestor was an interesting person, a brilliant advisor; someone misunderstood by many and kind, in a very understated way. He was a good friend and a very close one, one of the few who did not treat him as a child.

Now, in light of this new information, he mused on this hidden world in which two males shared love, the same carnal love that was supposed to belong only to married couples. He had known all along that such people existed, and among the nissi too, but they were so discreet they barely drew attention to themselves.

Glorfindel knew, of course, how the physical union of two males could take place. He had never given it any thought, but now he tried to imagine how it had been for Erestor. Was he taken or did he take? Did he like it? He must have. Somehow, when Glorfindel tried to envisage Erestor with someone, his own body and face appeared instead. He found himself aroused and ashamed by these thoughts, for they were a betrayal of sorts to their friendship and if Erestor was bonded, it was a condemnable act to lust after him so. And besides, he was, at least in name, the head of one of the twelve Houses of Gondolin. He had the duty of procreate, had he not? And why would he desire a nér and a friend?

Still, Saelrusc's words echoed in his mind; if Erestor had been joined in body to another, who could say, really, what his status was? Even if he was truly married, if such a word applied, there was still some hope. Had not Finwë, his grandfather, been released from his bond to Miriel and taken Indis as his wife? But that had been so that Finwë could have more children, and the consequences had been tragic.

"Why am I thinking of that?" he questioned himself. Erestor probably was sad because his lover had died. He would not want another to replace him even if he could. But then, why all that distancing from everyone else? No, Glorfindel reminded Ecthelion's words, Erestor had been hurt and not by death, but by another kind of loss. Besides, though Saelrusc knew little, his words left him with an unpleasant impression of this Môrlach.

He could not ask Erestor any of this directly. It would hurt his feelings and he would certainly withdraw the trust he had placed in Glorfindel. The last thing Glorfindel wished for was to lose Erestor's friendship.

Glorfindel felt strange in Erestor's presence. Distracting thoughts crossed his mind constantly. He made an effort to behave normally, but ended up being taciturn. Luckily Erestor appreciated silence.

His sexual fantasies concerning his friend had become pervasive in his life. He had to concentrate hard to avoid being aroused during his normal activities and reserve these thoughts for the late night and the privacy of his rooms.

Glorfindel started exploring his body during these fantasies. Most of the times he pictured himself taking Erestor, moving deep inside him. Was it similar to the warmth of his hand? Would he see pleasure in Erestor's eyes? He wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt. Where had this desire come from?

Sometimes he tried to imagine being taken. His exploring then became obscene to himself, but decency did not stop him. He wanted to understand what it was like, how pleasure could be given and accepted in that way. If at first it felt repulsive, it quickly became fascinating.

It was not as uncomfortable as he had expected, but it felt odd. It was pleasurable but not as much as some of his other activities; it was more the thrill of doing something so unorthodox. He realized his fingers were far slimmer than an average erection. "How could pain and discomfort be avoided then?" he wondered.

Strangely, when he was with Erestor his thoughts were far less explicit, and he was thankful for that. At those times, he wished for nothing more than to be able to hold Erestor and kiss him. To lay at his side in the grass, but closer. Hear him breathing, feel his heart beating. To somehow erase that sadness with his lips, tenderly, chastely.

Glorfindel was discovering a part of him he ignored, a darker side perhaps. He no longer felt like a boy and wanted to lift the veil that covered the world before his eyes. He wanted to do it with his dearest friend, no matter the price. He was in love.

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